#i think i need to throw this in the washing machine for a week or so so that this idea loses its shape

[octuscle]

Chronivac Internship

Ian was thinkin’. As good as he could, anyway. “I mean, I wasn’t always this fuckin’ big,” he thought. Or at least he figured so. Couldn’t remember ever bein’ as puny as that guy over there in the workshop. Sure, Ian knew where babies came from. He knew he came outta his mom once. And she was smaller than him. So yeah, he musta been smaller too. Made sense.

He also knew how dudes sometimes groaned when he fucked ’em. ’Cause his dick was fuckin’ massive. But still smaller than him, obviously. And if he could barely get his dick in someone, he sure as hell couldn’t fit in there himself. Even Ian got that much. He wasn’t exactly the brightest bulb in the box...

“Sir? You alright, sir?” Christopher was gettin’ nervous. He’d only gotten this internship ’cause of his dad — said a real job in industry was better than some office gig in consulting. Christopher’s thing was numbers. Dude was studyin’ business math and psych or whatever. He had no fuckin’ clue what he was doin’ here. Thought he’d be doin’ some Controlling or Accounting shit. But instead, he was standin’ in this damn workshop watchin’ this fuckin’ giant try to think. Badly.

“You’re small,” Ian said. “I’m Ian.” Christopher forced a smile. “You can’t work like that,” Ian said, starin’ at the kid in his suit. With a nod, he told him to follow. There had to be some old work clothes lyin’ around from an ex-apprentice or somethin’. Stuff that didn’t fit anymore. Happened a lot at Chronivac Manufacturing Inc. You came in all scrawny. Ended up a beast. Least that’s what happened to most of the guys in production.

Chris sighed as he stood in front of what was clearly his locker now. The air reeked of sweat. And even though Ian couldn’t have squeezed half his chest into that shirt, it looked like a fuckin’ tent on Chris. Gonna be a hell of a six weeks.

“So I was like: ‘Throw another 45 pounds on.’ And the dude at the gym was like: ‘You serious?’” Ian was lovin’ it. After a week, Chris was finally askin’ about the important shit. Lifting heavy, pickin’ the right protein shakes, how often to change your jockstrap. The first days had been a drag. The kid kept askin’ what Ian’s job was, what machines did what, what he was supposed to do here. Fuck if Ian knew.

He showed up, shot the shit with the boys, hit the company gym during breaks… Now and then he had to “report” to one of the suit guys. And “reporting” usually meant Ian strippin’ in some exec’s office, flexin’ his muscles… and stickin’ his dick into some hole. Happened two, three times a day.

Chris had to report yesterday too. Ian could swear they’d been gettin’ along a lot better since. Sure, Chris was still a skinny little thing. But kinda cute, in a nerdy way. Maybe Ian’d have to report to him one day.

Chris needed Ian’s help. Ian was clearly the brains between the two. Chris had gotten this email from his uni — long as fuck, full of big-ass words. All he got was, he had to write some kind of report. Internship report or somethin’. What the fuck did he know about writin’ reports?

Ian didn’t know shit either. Chris had “reported” again to a suit two days ago. Since then, no more shirts for him at work. Ian said it was the rule. Said everyone had shit like that. He himself wasn’t allowed to wash his shirt. Which made sense. After the next “report,” the damn thing would just be dirty again anyway. Usually, the suit finished on Ian’s shirt when they were done. Why? No clue. Probably another one of those weird-ass company rules.

Ian asked Chris if he even needed to write that internship report for his uni. Maybe he should just join Chronivac full time. Most interns did. “Nah,” said Chris. His old man had a construction company. He didn’t really wanna work there, not at first. Used to have other plans — nerd stuff, probably. Couldn’t remember. But now? He was gonna join the firm as a foreman. Rebar crew. Pretty badass, actually. Ian figured he’d miss the little guy. He asked if Chris wanted one last “report.” Chris grinned and popped open his fly as they headed toward the showers.

Christopher’s dad and the CFO of Chronivac Manufacturing Inc. were college buddies. The internship was a win-win. CMI always needed test subjects. And Chris’s dad needed a son who’d man up and take over the business. Chris wouldn’t be “reportin’” to him, obviously. But there were plenty of guys at the firm who wouldn’t mind a little report from Chris now and then.

Inspiration for the pics from @rowdy317

[amoressb]

───── HIS FIRST AND LAST 西村 力 N. RK

ꪆৎ ⋆˚࿔ hes not what they say he is, he just needed to find the one…and it’s you ｡｡ classmate!riki x reader .

FLUFF & wc. 1100 + ; kissing, skinship ｡｡

───── ARCHiVE

nishimura riki didn’t ask for the reputation he had. it followed him, clung to him like an old cologne he couldn’t wash off, no matter how much he wanted to.

they called him a playboy, a heartbreaker, a guy who got bored too easily. sure maybe the last one was true. he’d been with girls before—not many, but enough for people to talk. enough for them to think he was the type who collected hearts just to throw them away, but riki had never cheated. never lied. never promised something he didn’t mean. he just…never felt anything. not the way he was supposed to.

admiration? yes. interest? sure. but love? not once.

it wasn’t like he was trying to hurt anyone. he simply didn’t care enough to keep trying. after a few days..maybe a week, he’d wake up and realize the excitement was gone and that was it. maybe something was wrong with him. maybe he was broken, or maybe he just wasn’t capable of falling in love.

at least, that’s what he thought.

until y/n.

the first time riki saw you, it was like something in him shifted. it happened on a regular tuesday, just before lunch. he was walking with his friends, half listening to their conversation about weekend plans, when his eyes landed on you. you were standing by the vending machine, alone, shifting your weight from one foot to the other as you decided between a snack or a drink.

you weren’t giggling with your friends like other girls usually were. you weren’t looking around for attention or checking your reflection in your phone screen. you were just…existing and for some reason, riki couldn’t look away.

“dude, are you even listening?” once of his friends nudged him. he barely heard them. “she’s not your type,” another friend said when they followed his gaze. riki blinked, snapping out of his trance. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“she’s quiet. keeps to herself. probably wouldn’t even give you the time of day.”

that’s should’ve been enough to make him walk away…but it wasn’t. because for the first time, riki actually wanted to try. but you weren’t easy to impress. you had heard the whispers about him, the stories that spread through the halls like wildfire and you weren’t interested.

“i know your game, nishimura,” you told him flatly when he first tried talking to you. riki stared at you, baffled. “what game?” you crossed your arms, unimpressed. “you lose interest fast. you’re here now, but in a week? you’ll move on.”

he opened his mouth to argue but…you weren’t wrong. that’s was how it had always been but not this time because you weren’t just another girl. you were it.

so, riki did something he had never done before.

he tried.

not the effortless, half interested kind of trying. the real kind.

he started showing up where you were—never in an annoying way, but enough for you to notice. he sat across from you in the library, sketching in his notebook while you read. but he wasn’t just sketching random shapes or designs—he was sketching you. the way your hair fell over your shoulders when you were focused. the way you tucked a strand behind your ear absentmindedly. the way your lips parted slightly when you were lost in thought.

he never showed you, not yet. he wasn’t sure if you’d even care. but sketching you felt like the closest he could get to capturing the way he saw you—beautiful in a way no one else seemed to notice.

he left your favorite snacks on your desk in the morning, never saying they were from him, but you always knew. when it rained, he showed up outside with an extra umbrella.

when you looked stressed, he slid you a small folded note:

smile. you’re too pretty to be frowning all the time.

you never said anything about them, but you never threw them away, either.

little by little, you started letting him in. not completely—you were still wary, still guarded. but sometimes, when you thought he wasn’t looking, you smiled, and that was enough to keep him going.

one evening, as you walked home together—a routine you two had silently fallen into—you finally spoke.

“i don’t get you.” riki looked at you, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “what’s there to get?” you kicked a pebble down the sidewalk. “you’re not supposed to be like this.”

“like what?”

“…real.”

his footsteps slowed. you stopped too, facing him, your dark eyes searching his. “i am real,” he said softly. “i don’t know why it took me this long, but y/n… it’s you. it’s only ever been you.”

you swallowed hard, looking away. “i’m scared.” he nodded, understanding. “i know.”

“i don’t want to be just another girl to you.”

“you’re not.”

you hesitated, shifting on your feet. “how do i know?”

this time, riki didn’t rush to answer. he reached out slowly, brushing his fingers against yours. it was the lightest touch, barely there, but you flinched slightly—like you weren’t used to being touched so gently, so deliberately.

“because i’ve never done this before,” he murmured. you looked at him, unsure. “done what?”

“chased after someone.” his fingers curled around yours, holding them between both of his hands. “waited. tried.” he let out a soft chuckle. “i don’t even know what i’m doing y/n, but all i know is that it has to be with you.”

you let out a shaky breath, and riki could feel the hesitation in your body, the way you weren’t sure whether to pull away or hold on.

so he gave you time. he let you decide and after a long moment, you squeezed his hands back. that was all the permission he needed.

he took a step closer, letting go of your hands only to cup your face gently, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks. you were looking up at him, wide eyed, lips slightly parted in uncertainty.

“you still scared?” he asked softly. you hesitated, then nodded. “a little.”

his heart ached at that—at how guarded you still were, at how much you had to convince yourself to trust him, but that was okay. because riki had never been patient for anyone before.

but for you? he had all the time in the world.

slowly, he leaned down, giving you enough time to pull away if you wanted to, but you didn’t. and when your lips finally met, it wasn’t rushed. it wasn’t just some fleeting moment. it was soft..careful.

like he was telling you, without words, that this time was different. that you were different. when you kissed him back, your fingers clutching the front of his hoodie like you were scared he’d disappear, he knew. you finally believed him. riki had never loved anyone before, but you?

you were the first.

and you would be the last.

⋆｡°✩ @miukidoll @liwinly @sugarikiz @hyukabean

this was a request hope i delivered and you enjoyed !!

[syluses]

panty-thieving caleb

do we need to discuss this? caleb truly does this. nobody’s undergarments safe from this man. does homeboy feel guilty? yes. will he do it again? u can bet ur ass on it

It’s… fine.

I mean, you’re gone for a few days, your little hunter’s gig requiring your presence elsewhere, and the apartment is quiet- almost uncomfortably quiet- for a short while; he has some room to wriggle. Be bad. He could throw a house party in your absence and you would never know. He’s good at keeping secrets, and he’s a masterclass in those pitiful puppy dog eyes that catch you for hook, line, and sinker. If he said he didn’t, then you’d believe him, ‘cause you’re a good girl.

(His good girl. Whether or not you’re aware of that has no effect on its truth.)

It’s not like the walls have eyes, that you’re watching, when he leans against the washing machine, his own dirty clothes swirling in a heap behind the clear window, and spots your hamper propped behind the door, a glint of interest in his eye- shameful as it may come.

You’re far from stupid. But you are naive, down to a fault- and Caleb thinks, flipping the lid of it and stooping over to rifle through your laundry, that it’s for the better.

It’s just marginally easier on his conscience if you’re unaware of what he’s about to do.

Look- to clear the air, he isn’t proud of it, alright? But fuck if he doesn’t need it. You’ve left him high and dry one too many times to count, and he doesn’t blame you for that, pipsqueak, he gets that your relationship had established boundaries from early on- too early to really even remember- and that you couldn’t begin to understand the depths of what he feels for you. He gets that. It’s only festering in the forefront of his brain on most days, squeezing in his chest in a way that reads longing just as much as it does guilt.

The knowing doesn’t stop him though, or the disgrace.

Might even drive him a little bit further, if he’s being honest.

He digs out a frilly pink article, pointedly ignoring all other clothes save for the few oversized shirts of his you must’ve snagged earlier this week- regarding them with a passive but somewhat smug smile- and pulls it taut between his fingers, marvelling a little at the intricate gusset.

Fuck.

And you know, the remnant of his guilt fades the longer he stares. Perverted or not, his imagination runs at a mile a minute and there’s a certain thrill he obtains in envisaging you wearing it. So, so beautiful, he’s sure, and how could you not be? A pretty nymphet strewn in blushing pink. He barely has the self restraint to pass up on finding the matching bra, but it’s a near thing.

He doesn’t think he really cares about how horrified you’d be, how much faith you’d lose in him- your precious Caleb- not as his cock stirs in his briefs and he pictures you wearing the underwear, sticking your ass out for him on full display. He’d touch it and grope it and guide you down onto his aching length- but not before getting your pretty pussy (well, he’s never seen it before, no, but he’s willing to bet his whole piggy bank that it’s as gorgeous as the rest of you) all primed and ready for him.

He’d worship you. Really, he’s just waiting on your green light.

In his dreams he kneels on the ground before you and laps at your folds ‘til you’re screaming and pulling his hair- but he doesn’t let up until he knows for sure you’ve nothing left to give him. When you’re wholly satisfied, then, and only then, does he hike his pants down his thighs and sink into your sopping heat.

The smell of you— “mmnh.”

Oh pretty girl, nothin’ compares.

Caleb lets out a little groan as he fists your dirty panties tight and thrusts it in his face, inhaling your scent- faded detergent mixed with an undeniably feminine musk- in lungfuls. He thumbs over the fabric with appreciation and gives it an oddly chaste kiss before getting to swift work on his growing problem.

This won’t happen again. He promises. If you were around for it, you’d hear him spew out his apologies and proffer out his little finger for a pinky swear. He never breaks a pinky swear, too. It’s sacrilegious in your household.

He’s half tempted to wrap your pretty panties around his cock and rub it that way, but he quickly thinks better of it, surprisingly clear-headed in his conviction to keep it untainted. Your underwear having been thrown in your dirty hamper or not- Caleb doesn’t want to mar them with his own release if he comes hard into the lacy folds of it- and no doubt he would. He respects you a little too much to tarnish your precious belonging, and while he knows his actions are disparaging in and of themselves, this is a front he’ll remain staunch on: your undies are valuable, not some material to use for jerking off before curtly disposing of.

He’ll be careful, he’ll be good to them. Okay?

Evidently, that respect he has for you isn’t quite enough to stop him from nabbing your dirty laundry and huffing it in like paint— but it’s the little things that count, right? The thought.

A rasping whine punches out from his chest, his eyes clamped shut as he strokes himself with long, slim fingers, desperately wishing them to be yours instead. Yours would be softer, more uncertain and unexperienced as they trail over his dick but fuck they’d feel so good, he knows this like he’s never known anything before. Just pines for it to become reality.

Of course, he’d start with something smaller to ease you in; he wants it to be romantic, your first time, full of sloppy, but meaningful kisses as confession and hands cupping your face as he vows to keep you happy forever.

But what he gets up to- you’d be so mad if you knew— He wants to save himself from the mortifying prospect of you ever unearthing his sordid inner world, but it’s a little too late to backtrack. He can’t reverse what he feels for you, in any case.

Shit. It sounds so bad- the dregs of his rationale rebuking him somewhere in the back of his head- but thinking about you frustrated just gets him riled up even more. ‘Cause you’re so cute like that... Furrowed brow and flushed cheeks, lips that pout and arms that cross over your breast and unwittingly press them up and present them to him before you either frown or inevitably turn your back on him.

He could die in peace to your catty moans and whines. And then he’d revive himself just to pull a few more out of you.

Hey, look, pipsqueak, he knows he’s a big meaniehead sometimes, but—

Pre dribbles from the tip and he smears it down the long column of his cock, sucking in a shaky breath as the washing machine drums out a steady tune. He could fuck you on it. It’d probably feel so good that way. Or he could drag you to the couch and eat you out for hours on end until his knees bruise on the carpet and you constrict your thighs around his head. Sounds like a dream. Like his dreams.

—but he just loves you so damn much.

And can you really fault him if he gets a little worked up over how you behave? I mean, yeah, he’s supposed to be your ‘gege’ and all, but c’mon... He’s still a man at the end of the day. You’re kind of setting a high bar for him, don’t you think? He’s only human. He’s fallen victim to love, and if you were experiencing even half of what he’s been for seeming eons now, then you’d understand it too.

It flourishes in his belly fast- the want to taste and take and consummate with you- pleasure reaching its peak as he keenly pumps his fist. He knows this is screwed up, he knows, but it feels so good and he just—

“Oh, ungh- pipsqueak-!” with a few sputtering gasps, he ruts his hips into his hand one more time before everything existing inside him erupts. He hurtles himself at the washing machine as it thumps, hugging your panties to his nose like it’s the one thing keeping him rooted in place right now and from buckling to the floor, dousing himself in the scent of you as his eyes flutter back. When he comes, he wants it to be to the essence of you and nothing else.

White gushes over the backs of his fingers; he rides himself through it, broad chest heaving as he talks himself down from his own high.

His inner dialogue is starker now as he settles and the desire searing his critical thinking abates. It’ll never happen again, he’s adamant on that. Because he’s more or less just betrayed your trust, to put it lightly, and it’s not right.

Guilt warms his heart to an unpleasant degree.

I-It’s fine.

When he’s done, he’s not quite comfortable with himself and the knowledge of what he’s just done- see? he’s not a completely depraved bastard, haha. He tucks himself in the waistband of his sweats with an almost rueful glance towards your hamper, grinding his jaw as post-nut clarity sinks its teeth into him— and pockets your panties.

It’ll make a nice triad to the other two he’s got stowed in his dresser.

You don’t need to know about any of this, though- you shouldn’t. Caleb’s the one who’ll shoulder this for the both of you. And if you come asking, he’ll just tell you the washer’s been eating up his laundry, too. No biggie.

It’s fine. What you don’t know can’t hurt you.

[klipkillakai]

Connie and bae getting into an argument about his friendship with his ex Sasha and she walks out mid argument because he was tryna defend their friendship. She leaves and doesn’t show up until like two weeks later because she knows he’s crazy about her and she wants to test his loyalty (basically seeing if he would come look for her or not) I’ll leave the rest up to you

inner peace 🎋

“i keep telling you about that bitch connie” you spit while throwing clothes in the washing machine with a harshness as your fuming with anger, your not a jealous person.. never, you respect boundaries and you think it’s reasonable for your man to have friends within the opposite sex, within certain bounds, but sasha.. sasha clearly likes him, the way she finds any way to touch him, the way she brightens her voice when talking to him, the way she looks at you when he’s not paying attention, and the way you know she’s had the pleasure of being all over you man’s dick at some point..

you hear connie’s heavy footsteps walk down the hall, knowing he’s looking for you—

“you say that every time she comes over mama, i keep trynna tell you we just friends”

you roll your eyes “please connie.. she be all over you, “oh connie you so funny” “connie remember when we was together and we did this” “connie remember the time i did a split on it” you say pissed as hell can’t believing she actually say that..

you hear a sigh “she’s just joking, you know that—

you look up “don’t tell me what i fucking know connie, cs your really starting to piss me off” you push pass him and start walking towards the living room

“bro you need to relax alright, your acting like a bitch right now..”

you stop walking and you turn around to face him, “i’m acting like a what?”

he smacks his teeth “man you heard me”

you just stare at him, feeling the anger of all those times, you watched her flirt with him and he seemingly flirting back, the small touches.. the whispers and the stank looks caught up to you in that one moment until now, does he even want you? why is he fighting so hard for her? does he have that same loyalty when it comes to you? i guess we gon find out..

“fuck you connie” you spit out with a potent venom, you make a show of climbing up the stairs and ripping open the hall closet to grab your suitcase and duffel bag

connie’s heart sinks knowing he fucked up, he quickly runs up the stairs and follows you, he sees you packing up your stuff and his heart stutters

“where you going?” you don’t say anything, shoving all your clothes in your bag, opening the drawer and discreetly grabbing your passport and stack he had left in there and you shove it your duffel..

“you must not want this like you claim” you say calmly “your willing to call me a bitch over your ex who i say clearly makes ME uncomfortable” “where is your loyalty to me connie? why aren’t you defending ME?” you say and stare up at him with unshed tears in your eyes.. so guess what.. i’m going away and i’m gonna let you think about where your loyalty lies..

connies mouth slightly agape, not knowing what to say, he never thought this what happen, he never thought you would leave him like this, “imma fix this jus don’t leave” he starts stuttering out, he watches you grab all your bags and walking down the stairs “baby- FUCK please don’t leave” he says rubbing a hand down his head, at this point panicking over the thought of not seeing you again..

you don’t care, you’ve had enough and you need him to see, you slip on your crocs by the door and you walk outside, connie closely following, you throw all your shit in your car and you get in quicker than connie can catch you and you lock it so can’t get in, he banging on the door, pleading for you to not leave—

“please baby don’t” “don’t fucking do this y/n”

“GET OUT THE FUCKING CAR” he starts pulling on the door—

you start the car and you pull out, as connie starts following, trying to run with the car, but you speed off not giving a fuck..

connie stands in the middle of the road, yelling profanities, loosing his shit, he walks back in the house, and punches the wall, leaving a hole..

the first night you spend at your friends house, crying telling her what happened as you head you phone buzzing constantly, flooding for texts from connie and his friends, you didn’t care tho, you decided you was gon book a trip to costa rica, you have the money and you just want to get away..

a week has passed and connie wakes up, with a massive headache, he’s drunken and cried himself to sleep more than he wants to admit, he misses you, his baby, he misses waking up next to you and getting food with you, he misses your mind, your laughter, the peace you give him, and your gone

he’s reflected this passed week and he realizes his relationship with sasha is inappropriate, and it was confirmed when he called to cut her off, she called you all types of bitches and insecure and he realizes he been the biggest fucking idiot, and how much grace you’ve given him.. now he doesn’t know where you are, you blocked him and your friends refuse to tell him where you are, he stands up from the bed and decides to shower, he knows he should clean up the room but.. he needs to clean himself first,

—music floods the house soon after, and connie is shirtless fixing the hole in the wall, fixing the drywall with a white paste, he gets a ding cutting his music off for a second and he looks at his phone hoping it’s you, it’s eren and he reads the texts “this yo girl?”

connie’s brows furrow and watches the friends only story and sees you on a beach somewhere, just glowing, eyes looking brighter than he’s seen in awhile, your humming along to some song in spanish and it your with a group of people, someone says something in the background and you let out a soft giggle before the video ends..

connie feels his heart sink, not because you’ve done anything bad or anything like that, but he’s sees your thriving, you look better, you’ve gained a little weight, you look well rested and that makes him look like a shit person, had he been that draining? was his relationship with sasha stressing you out that much? why didn’t he listen to you? why didn’t he believe you?

he slams his phone down, climbing up the stairs abandoning, his project, just wanting to roll up that point and sleep—

-two weeks later-

you sigh as you walk off the plane, neck pillow around your neck and headphones over your ears, you can still feel the sway of the water all over your body, you can still feel the warmth of the sun and you can still taste the sweetness of the fruit on your tongue, you unblocked connie on the plane and watched all the texts pop up on your phone, you’ve forgiven him at this point and now you think about him, you miss him, you miss his smile, his jokes, him dancing around the house.. his dick, everything..and your glad to be back home..

connie hasn’t seen you in three weeks and at this point he’s lost a bit of hope, the only peace he finds is when he wakes up early and heads to the gym, he hasn’t been much of a gym rat, he has been here in there but he’s started taking it more seriously, to distract himself, he drops the weight finishing his set, he gets a notification from his phone and sees its from ring, thinking it’s a package or something he almost clicks out but then he realizes it says door unlocked and his heart skips a beat, he grabs his bag and water and almost runs out the gym, he gets in his car and speeds off, hoping it’s you, hoping your finally home—

you walk inside and set your bags down, looking around “connie?” you yell, looking throughout the house and quickly realizing he’s not home, you walk downstairs and open the fridge grabbing a coconut water and sipping on it as you tap on your phone, you had gotten a fresh set of a acrylics before you came home and you love them so much..

30 mins pass and your listening to music as you cook some sausages in the pan, your stomach grumbling with hunger, you hear the door unlock and you slightly jump, heart skipping a beat.. you put down the spatula and quietly walk towards the foyer, hearing keys jiggling and shoes being kicked off..

you stand there, his back turned alway from you, a duffel on his shoulder and flowers in his hand and he finally turns towards you and your quickly met with a look of shock that morphs into a soft smile

“hi” you whisper, he slowly walks towards you “hi” he whispers back..

you run towards him and jump on him, legs wrapping around his waist and arms wrapping around his neck, he drops everything in his hand and wraps his arms tightly around you, he presses kisses all over your head and cheeks, whispering “im so sorry” and “i love you so much” “please don’t leave me again” you press a kiss to his lips and he walks further in living room and sits on the couch with you in his lap..

“how was your trip?” he whispers, staring at you like a hawk, trying to capture your face, in a way he never forgets anything about you again..

“peaceful” you whisper and softly wipe the tear slowly gliding down his cheek, you squeeze his arms and notices there firmer and stronger than usual and he jus smiles “i’ve been at the gym” you smile amused and nod “i like it” he softly grabs your cheek and kisses you..

you both know that you’ve changed and that your relationship will be different than before, but for the better, you guys are stronger than before and that gives you the peace you both have been looking for, inner peace..

——————————————————————————

|a/n|

chile i don’t think i’ve ever written angst before, i definitely think i could do a little better but, i didnt want it to be too depressing fr, but lmk if you want a part two for some smut 🤭, also sorry girl for taking so long to reply, school be kicking my ass fr!! but guysss send me more requests this was sooo fun!! i know for me that i want to see very specific things in fics or like smut, and the best way to make that possible is when you inbox the writer, so inbox me fr!!! i don’t bite 🩷

[b3ach-bunn7]

THINGS TO DO

You have chores you need to get done. Touya and your daughter won’t leave you alone. 

noquirk!au, domestic, fluff

inspired by @moodyvoid :P

——————————————————————

“How are you doing that?”

You look up at Touya from where you’re cross-legged on the floor. He’s only wearing black boxers and his robe, your daughter’s pudgy legs around his neck as she fiddles with his hair. Mizuki’s not reached the age that she can talk yet, but Touya assures you the gurgles she makes is actually conversation. You’ve walked in on him enough times, bent over her crib conversing with her, that you have no choice but to believe it. She grabs a handful of his hair and tugs. He winces, hand reaching up to untangle it from her grasp.

“Doing what?”

You’re currently sitting in front of the dryer while Touya leans on the washing machine. You’ve put off the laundry far too long, and the pile of clothes in front of you is a testament to that. The washing machine shakes beneath Touya and you curse the second load you’ll have to deal with later. 

“The folding thing. Takes me ten minutes to do that shit and it never comes out looking like that.” 

“Practise. And patience you don’t have.” 

Touya scoffs. “I so have patience.” 

You laugh at that. “You so don’t! Don’t you remember when you tried to make cookies last week? You ended up eating them raw because you couldn't wait for them to chill in the fridge.”

Touya rolls his eyes and kicks the shirt in your hand away with his foot. You tut, smacking it out your way.

“That’s different. I was hungry.”

“Fatty.”

“Hey! Not in front of Zuki.” He leans his head forward so he can reach up to grab her. He plops down on the floor in front of you and places her in his lap.

“Okay. Time to learn how to do laundry.”

You snort a laugh. “She can’t even talk, babe. How’s she gonna fold laundry?”

“No time like the present.” 

She giggles as Touya places the pile of socks you’d been leaving until last in her lap. Her hands grab random pairs and Touya nods.

“That’s my girl. Look, this one and this one. Roll it like this.” He demonstrates with one hand, the other holding onto her waist so she doesn’t fall.

“Wow. She’s really getting it.” You drawl. Touya throws a sock at your head.

“None of that talk. Only encouragement. Just think about it, if we train her from now she’ll grow up to be a machine.” 

You sigh heavily, moving another stack of folded shirts away to make some more room. “You really want our daughter to be a machine when she’s older?”

Touya ponders it for a moment. You watch as Zuki sticks her fist in her mouth. “Maybe not. I’m not seeing much potential.” 

You lean forward, moving her fist away from her face. 

“Open, baby.” You say, quickly checking around her gums. “You think she’ll start teething soon? She’s that age, no?” 

Touya hums. “I don’t know. She has been biting stuff more often though.” He drops his hand into her lap and she grabs his finger, sticking it into her mouth.

Your finger is covered in spit and you wince. “Ew.” You wipe your finger on Touya's leg. “Baby drool.” 

“Ugh, don’t rub it on me.” 

“Your finger’s literally inside her mouth.” 

“That’s different.” 

Touya watches you fold the next pile of clothes, and then the next. It finishes quicker with him there, telling you about work, you telling him about Mitzuki. He gives you his hand so you can get up and you groan, placing them into the laundry baskets so you can put it all away. You feel yourself ageing despite the fact you’re both young, and you huff, annoyedz

“I hate being an adult. Let’s hire a maid.” You grumble. You stretch, wincing at the crack your back makes.

“No.”

“Yeah, well I’m the one that has to do all the chores all not you, so I should decide.”

Touya gapes. “Fuck off with that. I offered to help you, you said no!”

You turn your back on him and walk out the laundry rooms basket on your hip. “Shut up.”

It’s true, in all honesty. You feel too bad to make Touya do any chores. You still have a couple weeks left of maternity leave, and while you’d been at home caring for the baby,  he’d been picking up extra shifts. You see the exhaustion that grips at his bones, the bags under his eyes. He insists on helping around the house whenever he’s home, but you refuse to let him do it. You’d rather he spent time with his daughter, relaxed a little. Touya, however, takes the ‘no help’ rule to mean ‘follow me around the house like a lost puppy’ instead. He does so now, Mizuki back around his shoulders. He hums a song you don’t recognise under his breath, fingers tapping against her legs. They follow you to each of your bedrooms, watching as you fill drawers with socks and shirts and incredibly small onesies. You kick one of Mizuki’s toys out your way. 

“You think she’ll start talking properly soon?” You ask suddenly, looking at Mizuki as she babbles.

Touya shrugs. “Beats me. When are kids even meant to start talking?”

“I don’t know.” You bite your lip anxiously, discarding the now empty laundry basket to the corner of the room. You walk over to Touya and grab Mizuki, holding her at arms length.

“You don’t think shes behind, do you? Like- Should she be talking? Or walking? She can’t even stand up without our help, and-”

“Baby.” 

Touya grabs Mizuki.

“Chill. It’ll be fine. Shoto didn’t start talking until he was like, four.” He says, scruffing up your hair with one hand. You huff, reaching up and holding his hand in ur own. You rest your face on it, eyes shutting as his finger soothes against your cheek.

“You’re sure?”

“Positive. Don’t worry, baby. You’re the best mum around.”

You roll your eyes. You tap Mitzuki on the nose.

“I don’t think she agrees. She’s so obsessed with you.” You grumble.

Touya grins lifting her up so he can kiss her on the forehead. “Daddy’s girl.” 

You sigh dramatically. “I used to be Daddy’s girl.” 

“Ew, that’s fucking weird.” Touya frowns as you giggle, reaching up to kiss him quickly. 

The three of you move to the kitchen, and you stand in the middle, hands on your hips. Touya places Mitzuki in the middle of the counter and mimics your stance. “Okay. I’m gonna make dinner. What are we feeling?”

His arms drop. “Uh. Food?”

“Ha ha. So funny.”

Touya sticks his tongue out at you. “Zuki thinks I’m funny. Right, sweetheart?” He tickles under her chin and she giggle. He looks back up at you, eyes shining. “See.” 

God, he’s so cute when he’s with her. Touya had been quite monotone when you met him. Never emotionless, but he never really seemed to care about much. You started dating and he opened up much more to you, and by the time you two were married, he was an open book. You knew everything there was to know about him. But this, the way he seems to light up whenever he’s with Mitzuki. It wasn’t like anything you’d seen before, a part of him you knew existed. You’re sure that Touya was always meant to be a dad, had to be with his good he was with her. 

And you knew he was scared. He’d whispered to you in the nights you were trying, warned you what his father was like. That he was scared that he would be like that. And you whispered back that you knew he never would, that Touya would be the best father to whoever the two of you ended up with. That night had ended very well.

You smile softly. “At least somebody does.”

You shuffle over to the fridge, eyes scanning over the leftovers and ingredients begging to be used. You huff. “God, I’m going to have to cook, aren’t I?”

“You don’t have to. We can get takeaway.” Touya grins.

“No. We have to be responsible adults.” You speak over Touya’s incessant booing.

“Come on. I want pizza.” 

“I want to use up all the food in our fridge.” 

“You’re so boring.”

“One of us has to be. Now go, get out so I can cook.” 

Touyas eyebrows furrow. “Uhm, why? I’ll be lonely.”

You start pulling out pans from the cupboards and vegetables from the fridge. “We’ve literally been together all day.”

“I’m your husband. You have to let me annoy you.”

“Go sit and watch TV, or something. Football. Isn’t that what men do?” 

He groans again, reaching over to grab at your waist, dropping down to his knees. “Why. Why won’t my wife let me love her.” 

You run a hand through his hair. “I do let you love me. You’re roots are coming in, by the way.” You tug his hair a little bit and he makes a sound deep in his chest.

“Mhm, just like that, baby.”

“Touya. You’re such a freak.”

“For you, yeah.” He looks to the side, squinting at his reflection in the mirror.

“Are they really coming in? Will you dye them for me?” 

You nod. “I always do, don’t I?”

“Love you.”

“Love you more. Now get up and out. You’ve abandoned our daughter on the kitchen counter.”

Touya mumbles something under his breath, sighing heavily as he gets up to his feet. “Come on, Zuki. We’re not wanted here.”

You click the kettle on. “You need to rest, you’ve been working so much. No point standing in here with- Touya!”

“What?”

“Don’t hold our child like that!”

Touya’s head tilits. He has the nerve to act casual as if he hasn’t got your daughter under one arm like she’s a fucking football. 

“What?”

“Hold her properly!”

“Why? She loves it.” He turns to the side and she peeks her head round to grin at you, hands grabbing at the air.

You smile despite yourself, shooing them both away. “Get out before you give me a heart attack.” 

You decide on making soba, something quick and easy you know you both like. You utilise the veg in your fridge you’re sure is going bad soon, dumping the expired leftovers in the trash. You come out the kitchen half an hour later. Touya’s feet are propped up on the coffee table, some old Disney movie playing on the TV. Mitzuki is laying across his chest, his hand rubbing up and down her back slowly.

“Is she asleep?” You ask, sitting down on the couch next to him.

He hums quietly. “Nearly. Is it okay if she naps right now?”

You nod. You shuffle down on the couch, until your legs hang off the edge and your head rests on Touya’s shoulder. You wrap you arm around his.

“Yeah. She’ll be more of a hassle if we wake her up, anyway.” Touya huffs a laugh. 

“Why are you watching Tangled?” You mumble.

“It’s a good movie.” 

“Weirdo.”

“Shut up.” 

“I made soba, by the way. We can eat whenever.” 

“Fuck yeah.” Touya kisses the top of your head. “Thanks, baby.”

“I’m so happy your favourite meal is like, the easiest thing to make.” 

“I’m easy to please.”

You reach a hand forward and touch the hairs on Mitzuki’s head. They were the same colour as yours. You think that might be the only thing she took from you, because when she blinks at you lazily, you could recognise those bright blue eyes anywhere, the tilt of her nose. 

“She’s so beautiful.” You murmur.

“Takes after her mother.”

You sigh. “No. You’re a liar. She looks exactly like you.”

You don’t need to see him to know Touya’s got a shit-eating grin on his face. “You think?”

“Shut up. It’s not fair. I lugged her around for nine months, she should take after me a little.”

Touya runs a hand up and down your back. “Don’t worry, baby. The next one will look like you.”

You sit up, eyeing Touya. “Next one?”

Touya kisses the tip of your nose. “I want three minimum. How do you feel about that?”

“I feel like I agree. But let’s chill out, it’s not even been a year yet.” 

“Fine. I guess.”

“You guess. Shut it and turn the TV up.”

“You hear that Mitzuki? Hear how your mother speaks to me?”

“She’s asleep and also she’s a baby.”

Touya shakes his head. “You don’t get us.” 

——————————————————————

domestic Touya I yearn for you like a wife who’s husbands been at war and my only memory is your photo in my purse 😔

me personally the Todoroki family lore is the saddest like it actually makes me wanna cry and sob.. so I will only ever write them happy idgaf

a knee ways I hope u enjoyed :P this is shorter than what I normally write but I just had to write it.. also not me being so consistent

[amnxp]

Once yours, always yours

Pairing: Bucky barnes x Reader

Warnings: none just a bit spicy towards the end

Summary: you help Bucky get ready for an upcoming Gala to attend.

Word count: 1.0k

A/N: im going to have an absolut fucking field day when the Thunderbolts movie drops and politician Bucky makes a debut guys omg

"Baby".

“Hmmm“

You feel two arms snake around your waist and a head resting on your right shoulder as you stand in front of the stove.

“Why are you up so early, Buck?” you ask, turning off the stove and setting the food aside. You turn around in his arms until you're face to face with him, your hands naturally finding their place—one resting at the back of his neck, the other cradling his cheek. His rough stubble scratches lightly against your fingers.

He smiles at you before placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, his lips lingering there as he speaks.

“I have that gala today, remember? Gotta get ready, doll.” “Since when were you so eager for galas? I thought you hated them.”

“I’m not eager. Blame it on Wilson. He’s been on my ass all week—‘Be on time, Buck,’ ‘Let Y/N pick out your suit; your taste is horrible, Buck,’ ‘You need to smile there, Buck.’”,he mimics in Sam‘s voice. You let out a soft chuckle.

“I do pick out the best suits, though. Have you seen that one article?” You reach for your phone, quickly pulling it up. “Top 3 Best Dressed Politicians of All Time—and you’re at number two. I mean, really, I deserve some recognition for being an unpaid stylist.”

You put your phone down and grin up at him.

“You’re not unpaid, baby. I pay you in plenty of ways that don’t require money.” He tilts his head playfully. “Oh, also, if you put your arm in my damn washing machine one more time, Buck, I will throw you and the arm both out," you say, smile still prominent.

"I'm sorry, baby. It's just that the machine really gets into all the crevices and all the little bits and shit," he replies. Shaking your head, you kiss him once more before turning around to grab two plates, plating the food.

After about 30 minutes, the two of you finish eating, and you rush him off, much against his sweet will, to the bathroom to get cleaned up for the gala. “And you’re absolutely sure you don’t wanna come with me, baby?” he asks, striding out of the bathroom, a towel hanging dangerously low on his hips as his body glistens with water droplets from him coming out of the shower, and his hair freshly slicked back.

“I think you forget that you’re sort of famous now, Buck. Showing up at a gala with a girlfriend out of absolutely nowhere will have all your fans rioting, going insane… and it could even tank your performance on upcoming elections.” He groans, rolling his eyes before heading to the bedroom to change.

————

Your eyes are glued to your phone as you hear a low and frustrated; “Goddamn it,”.

Your eyes flick to the open bedroom door, watching as he struggles to make his tie look presentable. Before he even gets the chance to ask for help, you’re already making your way toward him.

“You look handsome, baby.”

His eyes meet yours through the mirror as he smiles at you before he turns to stalk over to you near the door. His hands cradle your face, his lips capturing yours in a soft kiss. Your arms wind around his waist as the two of you sway side to side in place.

“You sure you don’t need me to stay? I can, whatever you need me for.” You laugh at his desperation.

“No, baby. I don’t need you to stay. I actually do need you to go. You need to make some acquaintances—you’re not exactly the most loved man out there with all the other Politicians.”

You rest your chin on his collarbone, looking up at him.

He sighs and pulls away, turning back toward the mirror. You give him about two minutes of fumbling with his tie before stepping between him and the mirror, taking over. As you lace the two sides of the tie into a neat bow, his phone starts ringing.

“It’s Sam,” he mutters.

“I think you need to go, Buck.”

He sighs as his phone goes silent again. Not even 30 seconds later, it rings once more. His eyes stay trained on you as they flick between both your eyes and your lips. Before he can turn around to grab his phone, you pull him toward you by his tie, pressing your lips to his in a rough yet loving kiss.

His hands are on you instantly, gripping you tightly as he pushes you backward into the mirror. Your hands press against his chest, pushing him back just enough for a breath.

“You really need to go now, Buck. I can hear Sam basically turning into the Hulk outside.”

“I really don’t want to leave.”

“I know.”

You smile as you walk past him toward the front door.

[shortbcofkoffee]

CW: Implied/Referenced SA

It's raining tonight. Dick can't drown out the pitter patter of water hitting his window at full force. He can't drown out the wind. He can't drown out the sound of his own heartbeat. He couldn't drown out the feeling of hands balancing on his abdomen. He couldn't drown out the weight on his waist or the muffled words of unwanted affection.

But he was alone in his apartment. Away from everyone. His family, his friends. He didn't know if that was a good thing or not. So he just stared at his wall, forcefully controlling his breath and heartbeat. He'd be okay when the rain stopped. He always would be. He wasn't even outside, he was being irrational. He was okay. Yes. He was.

His phone ringing drew him out of his thoughts. He fumbled it out of his pocket and stared at the caller ID. Tim was calling. For what, Dick didn't know, Tim was supposed to be benched right now, it'd only been two weeks since he almost died of the Clench. Dick cringed, as if he needed something else to feel shitty about right now. Either way, he picked up.

"Hey, Dick," Tim greeted. "I, uh, I need some help. Nothing serious, I swear, I just um... kinda messed up?"

Dick looked up at his celing, bare and white. Nothing serious. "What happened?"

"So, I was drinking some Monster, and-"

"Drinking Monster?!" Dick shot up. "Tim! You can't drink things with caffeine when you're on antibiotics, are you trying to kill yourself?!"

Was that what he meant by nothing serious? Tim tended to downplay his own well-being. It was very possible he was actively dying and didn't want Dick to freak out, which didn't work because Dick was properly freaking out.

"Wha- No," Tim groaned. "I called you because I thought you'd have the least extreme reaction. Just listen. So I was drinking some Monster and spilled some on my bed, and if Alfie finds out, he's totally gonna freak. Luckily, he's being Agent A right now, and B is on patrol, so I was wondering if you could teach me how to do laundry? I've never done it myself before..."

"Damn straight Alfred would freak, Tim's that's insanely dangerous," Dick scolded.

"Whatever. Are you gonna help or not?"

Dick sighed. "Yes. But only because learning to do your laundry is an important life skill, I still expect you to tell Alfie about this."

Tim groaned. "Fiiiiine. But if I crash or something cause I'm not getting any energy, it's your fault."

"Get energy from healthy sleeping and eating."

"Oh, buzz off. I already put my sheets in the washing machine, what do I do next?"

"Are they white or no?"

"White."

Dick hummed. "Find the bleach. Then throw like a splash of it in the washer."

He listens to Tim search around the laundry room and silently apologizes to Alfred in advance in case Tim spills something. He hears the movement of liquid and a splash.

"Kay, what then?" Tim asks.

"Find the detergent and fill the cap, then toss that in there too. Alfred might have a specific one for linens."

Dick should really do his own laundry. He meant to do it earlier, but it started to rain. This was a stupid reason to not do something, it was just a natural weather phenomenon. And he was a vigilante. He could handle rain. He huffed and pulled himself off the couch. At least it was all in one place, the hamper in his room. He tucked his phone between his cheek and shoulder as he picked it up and took it to his laundry room.

"Dick, how do I start it?"

"Uh, I think Alfie's is automatic. Just press the power button and it'll start itself."

Dick's machine wsn't like that, it was a bit older. He had to click a few more buttons before it started. On the other line, he heard the washing machine shake to life.

"I did it," Tim said. Dick could almost hear the proud smile in his voice.

"Good job, Timmy," Dick smiled. "Was that all you needed?"

Tim made a thoughtful noise. "I mean, I guess. But let's do something else, let's watch a movie! I'm not even allowed into the cave yet, so I've got nothing to do."

So he was just bored. "Yeah, sure. What movie? That way I can show you how to use the dryer without you having to call me back."

"Let's watch... uh, Anastasia. You love Anastasia."

"I do."

"Hold on, lemme change to video call," Tim said.

When his picture came up, his face was illuminated only by the light of his phone as he navigated the dark halls to the home theater. Dick walked to his own living room and opened the movie. Tim relaxed on one of the couches and started the movie too. About an hour later, Dick's laundry finished. Tim was half asleep from what Dick could see, eye's struggling to stay open, clearly not even processing the movie anymore. Which was good because he didn't sleep often. It'd be another two-ish hours before Bruce finished patrol, and it might not be till morning until anyone finds him at all. It was usually cold in the theater, and if Tim caught a cold while he was still recovering, under Dick's watch, he would never forgive himself.

"Tim," Dick said, trying to rouse him from his sleep.

"Hm?" Tim barely stirred.

"Get up, you gotta get your laundry. C'mon, Timmy."

Tim groaned. "I'm up. I was never asleep."

Dick chuckled. "Sure, bud. But now I gotta teach you to use the dryer."

Tim pushed himself off the couch, a little uncoordinated in his state. Dick went to his laundry room and moved his clothes from the washer to dryer. Tim did the same.

"Alright, Timmy. Turn the dial to 60 minutes and throw a dryer sheet in there. I think Alfie clears the lint collector every time he uses it, but you should probably check."

Tim mumbled tired understanding and Dick heard the dryer start.

"Thank's Dickie," he yawned.

"Anytime, baby bird. You know where to get new sheets? You sound tired."

Tim yawned again. "'M not. I can wait for this to finish. We gotta finish the movie."

If Tim went back to the theater, he'd fall asleep there. It didn't matter that they were already in Act 3 of the movie; he'd be out before the credits. Dick sighed.

"Alright. But grab a blanket before you go back so you don't get cold."

Tim nodded, Dick thinks. He can't really tell because Tim's head went out of frame when he picked up his phone. He grabbed a wool blanket from the linen closet and wandered back to the theater. Just like Dick thought, he was out within minutes of unpausing the movie. He looked so peaceful, Dick wasn't used to seeing him like that. When the movie ended, Dick turned off his tv and went to his room. He was admittedly much more tired now. He set Tim up on his bedside table, listening as the next movie started to autoplay. Eventually Dick felt himself drift off too.

It became a sort of tradition. No matter who was doing what, when it rained they watched a movie until at least one of them fell asleep. Dick was thankful for it. He figured out what was going on about the fourth or fifth time Tim called him in the middle of the night. He didn't know whether or not to be mortified that somehow Tim knew, or happy Tim wanted to distract him.

He settled on just being thankful. He was thankful for Tim, and he loved him. It made things easier, he didn't dread rainy days much anymore. Sometimes he found himself getting excited at the idea of watching movies with Tim.

Sometimes Bruce watched with them, which was nice. Rarely ever Alfred. Never Jason. When Damian entered their lives Dick invited him a few times, which he was never taken up on. Which was fine. It was nice with just him and Tim, something they had just for each other.

They were halfway through The Land Before Time movies when Bruce died. Tim didn't call him when it rained a week after the funeral. Dick didn't know if he expected him to.

Dick hadn't heard from Tim, hadn't seen him in longer. The last time they saw each other, they'd argued, then Tim disappeared. Dick didn't even know he left Gotham until the fifth day he was gone. He didn't have time to be worried, though. Not when he was taking care of Damian, not when he was Batman. But he missed Tim. So much.

It was storming tonight. Too hard for Dick to go out, especially with Damian, who's doorframe Dick was leaning on right now.

"Hey, Dami," he greeted.

Damian looked up from his schoolwork with a frown. "What?"

"You wanna watch a movie? Since we're not going out tonight."

Damian scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Just because Drake ran off in his fit of insanity doesn't mean you can expect me to fill in every hole he left. Your tradition means very little to me when there are more productive things to do. Like training. Or patrol."

Dick stood up straight and crossed his arms. "You can just say no, you don't have to be mean. And I told you, the weather's no good for patrol tonight. But I'm gonna go watch a movie and you're free to join at any time."

He walked away with a huff. It didn't really matter what movie he picked once he got there, honestly, he was just going to end up tuning it out and lost in his thoughts. He didn't know where Tim was, he didn't know how much longer he could do this. He shouldn't have argued with Tim, he should've tried to help him. Maybe have Tim show him this "evidence" so he could let the kid down gently. Grief did weird things to people, and Tim was doing a lot of grieving.

His dad, Bruce, his friends. Too many people had died in his life in such a short amount of time, and he finally broke. And Dick let their last conversation devolve into an argument.

He missed Tim. The movie was drowning out the distant sound of rain, but Dick knew it was there. Pitter pattering on the roof and flooding down the downspout. Tim would've drowned it out with stupid commentary about the characters and plot. Dick couldn't help it. His mind wandered to the rain.

It's been a month since Bruce came back. Nine since they'd watched a movie together. Dick decidedly hates it. Tim is rarely at the manor. He only contacts Dick when it's nessacary. Dick doesn't even bother watching movies alone anymore. It's not the same.

It's pouring in Bludhaven when Tim calls. Dick almost lets it ring through, but Tim only calls for emergencies. He wouldn't call if it wasn't important.

"Hey, Dick," Tim greeted. "So, uh... I need some help with something."

Dick turned over in his bed. "With what?"

"Well, Bernard is working late tonight-" Bernard. Tim's boyfriend that Dick only met once. Were they living together now? What did that have to do with Dick? "-but he usually makes me dinner, and I don't wanna order takeout again. I was wondering if you could help me make something?"

Dick paused. "Is that all?"

"You don't have to if you're busy, I get it."

Dick sat up. "No, no, it's fine. I'm just a little surprised." You don't call me just to call me. Not anymore. "What do you have in your fridge?"

He hears the sound of a solid door and glasses clinking. "I, um... there's salmon. And some broccoli."

"Alright, let's make some baked salmon then. That's pretty easy."

Tim huffs. "Yeah, well, there's a reason Bernard does most of the cooking. I could burn down our kitchen making a PB&J."

"It's like two ingredients and spices, you can't mess it up."

Dick walks to his own kitchen as he talks Tim through what to do. He pulled out a TV dinner for himself. He didn't even realize how late it was, so he should probably eat dinner now. By the time Tim got the salmon in the oven, Dick was on his couch, eating his chicken pot-pie and reheated baked beans. Dick actually finds himself relaxed, a little happy.

"Um, Dick," Tim asks carefully, "do you wanna watch a movie?"

Obviously, it was the next step in their routine. Dick should've expected the question because this situation was so familiar. But the tradition was dead, it had been for a long time. Dick'c voice shook as he spoke.

"Yeah. Yeah, we should."

[reiderwriter]

NSFW Prompt Requests - I’m in dyer need of 127 or 150 if you’d be so kind?🥵

A/N: I feel like I say "I got a bit carried away" in every single one of these authors notes, but this one I think I really did...

Word Count: 3k

#127: "I can taste myself on you."

#150: "Stop clenching, baby, you're already tight enough as it is."

Summary: You're hot for teacher. So is every other girl on campus. Your Professor, however, is absolutely oblivious until you spell it out for him...

Warnings: Professor x Student, age gap, oral (M receiving), face-fucking, no birth control/ condoms, creampie, male whimpering and moaning mentioned a lot, PinV sex, both of them are Switches idc idc 18+ MINORS DNI

Check out my other stuff on my masterlist!

You had been in his class for around three weeks when you decided you couldn’t take it anymore. If you were going to keep up your GPA and progress in your grad programme, you were going to have to either drop the class with Professor Reid, or persuade him to put you out of your misery. 

You’d been intrigued by the course to start with, of course, which is why you’d picked up the criminology elective when it wasn’t a required class. But it was only available this semester as he was only Guest Lecturing while on leave from his job at the BAU, and getting that kind of insight from an actual industry professional rather than an academic really couldn’t hurt, right? You’d thought that until you’d seen him. 

Expecting some older man with a stuffy tone and a disdain for modern technology, you’d been roughly awoken when he walked into the lecture hall on the first day and you found yourself hanging on to his every word as he read through your syllabus. You were spot on with the technophobia, but for everything else, you were blissfully incorrect. He was, quite possibly, the hottest man you’d ever seen in your life. You weren’t secretive about your thing for older men, joking all the time about your “daddy kink,” but you’d never had a thing for one of your actual professors before, and it was driving you insane. 

It didn’t help that the word had travelled around the entirety of your campus as well, with multiple girls turning up to audit the class after the first week. You’d been green with envy since you’d seen them mooning over the man, and you’d felt disgusted with yourself almost instantly. He was your professor, he was damn good at his job, but he was so deliciously tempting that you couldn’t find it within yourself to actually pay attention in his classes. You knew it was only a matter of time until the man, who you realised was obviously blind to how attractive he was to a bunch of twenty-somethings with a penchant for danger and a willingness to try all kinds of new things, would catch on to how many of his students were openly lusting for him.

You hoped that you had learned enough in his classes on behaviour that you could accurately hide your feelings and thoughts, however sinful and objectively obvious they were. Your hopes were crushed on that fateful day three weeks into the semester. 

You’d woken up on the wrong side of the bed already. Your alarm hadn’t gone off, your clothes were all still wet inside the washing machine in your apartment meaning you had to throw on a short skirt and pray you didn't flash anyone, and your roommate hadn’t closed the fridge properly the night before, so the milk you wanted to use in your morning coffee had spoilt. After dragging yourself into class, the last thing you’d wanted to see was twice as many students auditing the class as the previous week. 

To give it to the man’s obliviousness, he hadn’t noticed until about two thirds of the way into the class, when he asked a student why they weren’t taking notes.  He’d seemed confused. You were almost furious that he didn’t know what effect he was having on you, on every girl in the vicinity, but, more importantly, you. Unable to help yourself, you let out a scoff that gained his attention. 

“Is there something wrong with the class materials Miss…” he trailed off, waiting for you to supply your name to him. 

“Oh, no, uh, Y/N. My name is Y/N, there’s nothing wrong, sir. I’m sorry.” His lips twitched as you replied, but he went on with his class, as you sunk into your chair in shame. You were going to have to drop the class now. He must hate you, or think you were stupid, or think that you hated him, and your thoughts were spiralling so out of control that you hadn’t noticed the class had ended, and he was calling up at you from the lecturing desk. 

“Miss Y/N, are you okay?” He asked, and his goddamned eyes were filled with such concern you hated that every part of your body was screaming with desire for him. Unable to respond, he tried again. 

“If you have the time, would you like to come talk to me in my office? I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listener.” You should’ve said no, just based on the ridiculous scenes filling your mind, but you didn’t hesitate to nod your approval. You picked up your bags and made your way down the steps to where he was waiting with all of his stuff near the front door. He opened the door for you, and you felt your heart race as you awkwardly slid by him in the doorway. He had to be a fucking gentleman, too, right? 

You followed him as he made his way to his office, staying silent the entire way. He looked like he wanted to make small talk but didn’t know how, choosing instead to just mirror your silence. When you reached his office, he apologised for the mess and showed you inside, letting you take a seat on the couch whilst he put all his things away. The room was littered with books of all sizes, and you noticed that the titles didn’t seem to have one common subject linking them all, or even, in fact, seem to be written in the same language. You spotted a beaten up copy of War and Peace on his desk next to an obviously used coffee mug, and some paper files that looked to be the reading from that morning’s class. 

“Sorry, I didn’t exactly plan on having guests, uh, make yourself comfortable?” He asked it as a question, and loosened his tie as he said it. You stared at the small patch of skin on his neck, your eyes lingering just a moment too long before you remembered you were in a room with an actual FBI Profiler, and that if your thoughts were any louder, he’d handcuff you himself. As tempting as that was, you really didn’t want your Professor knowing about all the ways you’d imagined him fucking you. 

“Professor Reid, I’m sorry, I have to leave, and- and I think I have to drop out of the class.” You stood up suddenly, and he stood up too from his place at his desk, shocked at your sudden anxious outburst. 

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, is there something wrong? Did I make you uncomfortable?” he asked taking a step closer to you, but you took a step back again, accidentally pressing your back against one of his many bookcases in your haste to avoid him. 

“Yes! I mean no, it’s not your fault that I’m uncomfortable. I’m not uncomfortable, really!” He had the look of a kicked puppy on his face now, and you realised this man would be the death of you. You weren’t even sure what it was about him that entranced you enough to stay and continue the conversation.

“I can’t focus in your classes, Professor,” you sighed out, letting your eyes drop with the embarrassing confession. 

“That’s perfectly fine, many people struggle to pay attention in college classes. Is there anything I can do in my lectures to accommodate to your needs?” Your eyebrows screwed up in frustration with his obvious professional kindness. 

“No, Professor, I’m sorry, unless you stop looking like that there’s nothing you can do.” You ran a stressed hand through your hair as you begged your mouth to shut and stay shut. 

“...What?” The confused tone in his voice let you know that he had no clue at all what you meant by your words, but he didn’t go further. You chanced a glance up at his face, and were met with a small blush rising to his cheeks, as you watched the words process in his brain. 

“Professor, every single person in that class that is attracted to men would kill to do absolutely sinful things to you. You’re like the campus’s collective wet dream right now. You had to know that, right?” You sigh out, finally putting the man out of his misery.

“Oh. No. No, no, I didn’t. Know that, I mean, I didn’t…Is that why there are so many people auditing the class? They want to…. Do that with me?” 

“Fuck you, Professor. They want to fuck you. You can say it, we’re both adults.” You resigned yourself to the fact that this conversation was probably going to haunt every waking hour for the rest of your life, and just let it happen, pushing through the cringe to help him come to certain realisations. 

“And that’s why you want to drop the class?” he asked finally, looking back up at you. 

“Yes.” 

“Because you want to…fuck me?” 

Your mouth dropped open at his words, as you desperately tried to back track, but all that came out was hot air and blubbering sounds as you felt your brain short circuit like his had just moments before. 

“I mean… I guess,” you finally stuttered out, your fight or flight instinct begging you to just run, but something deeper, something carnal planting you in position and making movement in that moment impossible. 

“Oh…. right.” He nodded at you, his lips spread in a thin smile as he nodded at you awkwardly. You stood there together in silence for a minute, but it became clear soon that the logical part of your brain was no longer in control of your mouth. 

“Can I?” you asked, almost startled at your own boldness. 

“Excuse me?” he said, his voice raising higher in tone at the incredulity of your statement. 

“Can I fuck you? If I do, maybe I’ll be able to, you know, pay more attention in class. Get it out of my system, you know.” Growing emboldened by your own words, you took another hesitant step towards him, reaching your hand up to gently touch his arm. His jaw clenched at the contact, but he didn’t move away, didn’t suggest you stop right there and forget this conversation ever happened. 

“Please, Professor Reid. Please fuck me,” you trailed the hand up his arm and back down his chest as he stood there just watching you beg for him. You discarded your bag on the chair, and keeping your eyes focused on his, trailed both of your hands down to his belt, slowly enough that he could push you away at anytime. 

“Do you know what you’re doing, Miss Y/N?” He asked quietly, and you smiled, finally happy to get a reaction from him. The smile had dropped from his lips and there was something suddenly dark in his tone that had you clenching around nothing. 

“Yes, Professor,” you said, letting your hands start working on his belt, undoing it agonisingly slowly as you watched him control his breaths. When you finally had it undone, you finally looked up at him again, and gave him a smile as innocent as you could muster. 

“You have my permission,” he whispered into your ears as he gently put a hand on your head and pushed you down to your knees, perching himself on the edge of the desk. You wasted no time then, desperate to live out each and every single one of your fantasies with him. Reaching into his pants, you found him already hard and pulsing, and you released his cock from its confines quickly. Spitting into your hand, you gave him a few quick strokes as you watched him grow even bigger under your touch. 

Letting out some sinful breathy moans, you looked up at him, head thrown back and eyes screwed shut as you finally reached your tongue out to lick at the tip of his cock. He twitched at the contact, and you felt the warmth pooling between your legs as you watched his each and every reaction. Finally wrapping your lips around him, you decided to put him out of his misery, sinking down on his dick an inch at a time until he was hitting the back of your throat. He was delightfully vocal the whole time, moaning and whimpering so much that you almost pulled off him completely and begged him to fuck you raw. But the taste of his cock was intoxicating and you wanted more and more of him. After a few minutes of your agonisingly slow pace, you felt his hips beginning to buck up to match your pace as he began to face-fuck you. He grabbed a handful of hair, and you did your best to relax your throat, stabilising yourself by placing one hand on his thigh and sinking deeper into your open hips on the floor. 

His eyes were still screwed close, but he was moaning out your name now, with a few expletives thrown in too, having done a complete 180 from the few minutes earlier when he’d hesitated to even say the F word in conversation. You felt he was getting close when he started thrusting deeper, sloppier in his movements and more breathy in his moans. He suddenly pulled out of your mouth and lifted you to your feet, bringing you face to face with him. 

“We didn’t… we didn’t say where I would, um…” he tried to say but you pushed up onto your toes and pressed a hot kiss to his mouth, your tongues quickly twinning as he returned it in kind. You stood there, lips locked and breathless in that space for quite some time, neither of you caring about the lack of oxygen you were getting. Finally, using the hand that was still fisted in your hair he pulled you away from his lips, and you whimpered pathetically at the loss of contact. 

“I can taste myself on you,” he panted into your neck as he held you close, the words sending a shiver down your spine and forcing another moan out of your mouth. The pain from his tight grip in your hair only heightened your pleasure as he moved his lips back to your exposed neck and continued his ministrations. 

“Please, professor….” you begged again, desperate for his attention. “Please fuck me.” 

Without removing his lips from your neck, he quickly moved the two of you back to the couch you’d been sitting on before, guiding you into his lap, his cock still hard and free from his pants. Your skirt spread open, and your hard landing meant you could feel all of him pressed against you. You thanked the gods for your suddenly well-timed laundry efforts as he grabbed the base of his cock and started teasing you through your panties. You were sure they were soaked through as you sat in his lap, grinding down on his perfect cock, his mouth still pressed into your neck. 

“Fuck me, please fuck me,” you moaned, and he complied, finally hooking a finger under the seam of your panties and moving them to the side as he pushed up into you with another throaty moan. 

“Yes, thank you. Thank you Professor, thank you.” You moaned out in bliss as you sank further and further down on him, pushing further than any man had been. before. 

“Stop clenching, baby, you’re already tight enough as it is,” he ground his teeth in a hiss, and you moaned at his words, the pervertedness of them shooting straight to your core. 

“Can’t…help myself. You feel so good, sir.” He started moving then, holding your waist as he started lazily thrusting upwards. After having your mouth wrapped around him, he knew that too much too soon would mean that this wouldn’t last long, and you had begged him nicely, so he wanted this to feel as good for you as it did for him. Gripping one of your hips tightly in one hand, he let the other fall under your skirt, and started pressing into your clit. You threw back your head at the contact and started riding him, matching each of his upward thrusts with a downward thrust of your own, letting his thumb gain speed as it followed you up and down. 

“Fuck, professor, thank you…I’m gonna cum, fuck, thank you so much,” you stuttered out as you could feel your orgasm rip through you, collapsing into his arms as he thrust quicker into you now. 

“Y/N, where… where should I….” His voice trailed off, and after a few seconds regaining your sanity after your climax, you finally answered the question he’d been desperately trying to answer.

“Inside… Inside me, Professor Reid, it’s okay…” he whimpered at that, at each thrust he pushed into you, his head falling to the crook in your neck and your hands stroking the hair at the base of his neck as you clenched around him again, finally pulling the desire out of him. He came noisily, even with his face buried in you, moaning so delightfully you knew the sound would be your new distraction for the next three weeks. 

When he finally regained his composure, he let his hands drop from your waist, his head rolled back on the couch, and you fell with him, wrapping yourself around him as if  you never wanted this coupling to end. You stayed there, head resting on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, and drifted to sleep. 

You awoke an hour later, but there was no sign of the Professor. He’d cleaned you up somehow, because there was no unpleasant feeling between your legs, and he’d wrapped a blanket around you as you slept, making sure you were comfortable. Collecting your things and making to leave, you almost convinced yourself that it had all been another fantasy, and that you were becoming seriously delusional about the man. As you approached the door, however, you spotted a small note taped to the handle, and quickly pulled it into your hands. 

Miss Y/N, 

Thank you for visiting me today. I hope you decide to stay in the class, I certainly could learn a thing or two from you. 

- Spencer Reid. 

P.S. You’re lucky I’m an MIT Graduate with a job in the FBI. There’s a security camera in my office. 

[a-killer-obsession]

Hiii !! Can I request Killer + somnophilia for the event that you're doing? And also wanted to say that I loooove your writing 💗💗 I hope you have a great day!

Combining a couple of requests that I think work well together!

Panty Raid

Prompt: Masturbation + Somnophilia

Additional Tags: afab reader, no reader pronouns used, panty kink, killer is a perver, dub-con, potentially read as non-con but it works out in the end, fingering, p in v sex, cum in panties

WC: 2.4k

Event Masterlist

Killer's obsession with your undergarments started in a totally innocent manner. A lost bet over a bad hand of cards had him doing your laundry for a month, a bet you never would have made with half the crew, knowing how perverted most of them could be. You thought Killer was more mature than that, but you should have known better than to tempt a grown man when it had been so many weeks since the last island, and most of the crew was in desperate need of a sexual outlet. The first few loads of laundry were done with little fuss, your dirty clothes disappearing from your room and reappearing the next day in neatly folded piles on your bed, freshly washed and dried. Killer had even ironed some of your items, the ones that tended to wrinkle in the wash. It was an extra step you appreciated, but it didn't surprise you; Killer had always been one for details.

It wasn't until the third load of laundry that Killer's more depraved thoughts began to win out. He knew you wore lacey panties, he'd seen them plenty of times before during sparring and in brisk winds, you were someone who was unashamed of your body, like most of the Kid Pirates, and you couldn't care less who saw your panties. The first time he'd seen your dirty panties in your laundry, he'd been quick to throw them in the machine. The second time, he hesitated, looking over his shoulder for prying eyes before holding them up to look at delicate garment better, imagining how they looked on you. He'd spent the next several hours with a half hard cock, much to his own shame. But the third time, that was when something really switched in his brain.

He looked over his shoulder to check he was alone before holding up the panties. They were a pale blue, the crotch still slightly damp, only recently removed. You hadn't even thought about Killer seeing them when you threw them in the laundry basket after touching yourself, not at all considering that they would still be a little damp when he found them. He ran his thumb over the damp spot, feeling the slick discharge still sitting on the fabric, his dick twitching as he realised what he was looking at. Without a second thought he brought the fabric to his face, pushing his mask up a little to press the panties to his nose, stifling a groan as he smelt your sweet arousal still on them. He shoved the panties in his pocket and hurried to load the rest of your laundry into the machine, switching it on and fleeing to his bedroom before the bulge in his pants became obvious to anyone.

As soon as the door was shut and locked he was unfastening his pants, tearing off his mask and throwing it to the floor as he collapsed on his back on the bed, bouncing a little as he landed. He pulled your panties from his pocket as he started to fist himself, bringing the panties to his face and taking deep inhales of your scent, letting himself groan out loud now that he was in private. Precum leaked from his cock, and he gathered it with his fingertips, and spreading it down his shaft to use as lubricant as his pumped his cock hard and fast, imagining you were sitting on his face so he could smell your sweet scent straight from the source.

Needing more stimulation, he shifted your panties to his cock, wrapping the fabric around his shaft and rubbing it up and down, his precum soaking into the fabric and making the satin slippery. His other hand travelled up, running under his shirt and tugging at his sensitive nipples. His hips bucked, fucking up into his hand, enjoying the texture of your panties against his erection. His other hand travelled down again, tracing over his stomach and running over his thighs, the coil in his abdomen pulling tight. He grabbed his balls and fondled them, putting himself over the edge, moaning your name as he spilled out over his fist and ruined your pretty panties with his cum.

Post nut clarity hit him like a truck as he looked down at your ruined garment still wrapped around his cock, accidentally torn from the pressure he'd put it under, and he flopped back against the bed with a guilt ridden groan. Later he would tell you the machine had chewed the pair up so he'd thrown them out, deciding it was less suspicious to be up front about it rather than wait for you to realise the panties were missing, and you would accept his excuse without question.

The next washing load he was more careful with your panties, making sure to not tear them as he fucked himself with the fabric before cleaning them and returning them with the rest of your laundry, no hint at all that he'd done anything untoward with them. He felt dirty, but it'd become an addiction, and he found himself smelling each pair he encountered, pocketing whichever was the most fragrant. Sometimes he even pocketed two at a time - one to smell, and one to fuck. Every time he finished he felt disgusted with himself, but he couldn't help seeking that rush again, knowing full well he was doing something wrong. It only served to turn him on more, especially when he'd cum over your panties, only to see you wearing the same pair a few days later when you sparred on the deck.

It was a particularly sweltering day on the Victoria Punk, with scalding temperatures as the ship travelled towards a hot summer island. With no cool wind to bring down your temperature, you'd retreated to your room as soon as your chores were done, stripping down to your underwear and promptly falling asleep on top of your bedding, spread out like a sweaty starfish. At this point, Killer never knocked before entering your room, he came and went often as he grabbed and returned your laundry. You had a wordless agreement, and usually you weren't even in there, since he usually came during the middle of the day while everyone was doing chores. He was surprised to find you in your room today, as he entered with an armful of ironed and folded clothing, even more surprised to find you face down in nothing but a pair of navy panties.

Killer felt all of his blood rush directly to his cock, putting down your pile of clothing carefully on your dresser. He knew for a fact that you were a heavy sleeper; much like Kid, you could probably sleep through a buster call if it came to it, and you'd absolutely slept through entire naval battles in the past. He knew he should turn around and leave, but his cock simply wouldn't let him, and he was feeling so pent up that he couldn't bring himself to deny his throbbing erection. Slowly, trying to be as quiet as possible, he unzipped his jeans, lowering them just enough to free his erection. He bit down on his lip as he wrapped his hand around his cock, pumping it slowly as he admired your round ass and thick thighs, laying so deliciously on your bed, so close he could touch you if he wanted. He shouldn't though, he shouldn't touch you. Oh fuck he wanted to touch you.

His hand moved like it had a mind of his own, hesitantly breezing over your thigh. He held his breath as he waited for you to react, releasing the breath when you didn't even twitch and letting his palm rest fully against your skin. He stroked your bare thigh tenderly, precum leaking from his cock as his hand slid towards the inner side and ran close to your centre, his thumb breezing over the lace trim that ran over the round of your ass. His hand moved to your ass cheek, giving an experimental grope, fingertips sliding under the hem of the panties and playing with the fabric.

Feeling bold, his hand slid further down. Your legs were already spread so beautifully for him because of the heat, so it was easy for him to trace his hand down under the fabric, brushing over your folds. You shuffled in your sleep slightly, but made no sign that you were waking, so he pushed his luck further. He couldn't contain his moan as his fingers slid between your folds and found you wet, slick coating his fingertips. He gathered as much of it as he could, switching hands so he could spread your juices over his shaft to use as lubricant, mixing it with his precum as he pumped himself slowly. His thumb ran over the outside of your panties, pressing the fabric into your folds as he pushed against your clit. You made a soft moan in your sleep and his cock twitched in response, feeling how your panties got slicker as your arousal began to soak through the thin fabric.

His fingers slipped underneath again, and this time he couldn't help but take it further. At this point if you woke up there was no saving himself, no excuse could cover his ass with the way he was jerking off and touching you. He was already breaking the boundaries of what was right and wrong, so he decided to go all in. His finger slid inside you easily, making you whine in your sleep as he pumped you slowly, trying not to wake you. His second finger slipped in just as easily, begging to stretch you out. The idea that he was inside you without your knowing was making his cock weep as he fisted himself, biting back moans as your gummy walls fluttered around his digits. He pulled them out carefully, sliding his fingers under his mask and whining as they entered his mouth, sucking your slick from his fingers and tasting your sweet arousal coating his tongue. He entirely removed his pants and shoes and slowly slid onto the bed, trying not to shift you as the mattress moved under his weight. He knelt between your legs, groaning to himself as he pressed his cock against the grove of your ass, shivering at the feel of your smooth panties against his hard shaft.

He slipped his cock under your panties, rubbing his cock between your folds, soaking his shaft with your arousal and feeling the head of his cock butting against your panties with each short thrust. You made soft moans in your sleep, your legs spreading a little further. He was sure you would wake up soon, so he took one final risk, pulling your panties to the side and lining himself up with your entrance. The thick tip of his cock slid in easily, and he made shallow thrusts as his hands came to rest either side of your waist, biting his lip hard enough to break skin as he struggled to not just push all the way in and fuck you silly. Slowly he slid further in, trying his best to keep his sounds muffled as your pussy sucked him in, but as his base met your ass he couldn't help himself, making a deep groan that was the final straw that broke the camel's back. Killer froze as you started to wake, your face nuzzling against the pillow as you laid it on its side, eyes fluttering open and blinking at him as you saw him hovering over you with the one eye that could see him.

“Kil?” You asked sleepily, not quite awake enough to register what was happening. Killer was balls deep in your cunt, and said nothing as he struggled to find an excuse for his actions. Your hips rolled on their own as your body registered your fullness, making a confused, breathy moan as you realised he was inside you. “K-Kil… fuck.”

You rolled your hips more purposely, fuck he felt so big inside you, filling you so well, and he whined under his mask as you started fucking yourself on his cock. “Ohhhh fuck,” you groaned. You were just as pent up as he was, and his cock felt so fucking good inside you. You should have been mad, but Killer was fucking hot, and you felt unbelievably turned on that he'd taken advantage of you. “Fuck me, please.” you whined.

Killer didn't hesitate for a moment, pulling his cock almost all the way out before slamming it back in and knocking the air out of you. You clawed at the pillow as he grabbed your hips and made harsh, fast movements, grunting and cursing under his breath at each thrust, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Killer growled as he used your body, grabbing handfuls of your ass and using them as anchor points as he fucked you mercilessly. It didn't take long for his rough treatment to pull your coil tight, your orgasm bubbling over as your cunt squeezed him tight, soaking your panties and making him throw back his head and groan as he got close. He pulled out, pulling your panties back over his shaft and grinding against your cunt, and you felt the hot flood of fluid as he came against your pussy, making your panties sticky with it as he pulled away and snapped the fabric back into place. He collapsed against your back, his helmet nice and cold against your bare skin as he panted, his hands apologetically running up the sides of your torso and touching you tenderly.

“Sorry,” he said softly, stricken with guilt, “I didn't… I didn't mean to. You were just so fucking sexy I couldn't help it. Do you hate me?”

“Killer, baby,” you sighed, “if you wanted to fuck me, you should have just asked.”

“Huh?!” He startled, “you would have let me?”

“Absolutely, are you kidding me?” You laughed, “have you seen yourself? Use me like a fucking cocksleeve whenever you want. You're fucking lucky I'm into you though, or you'd be fucking dead right now.”

“Sorry…” he apologised again, “can I make it up to you?”

“You're doing my laundry for a year,” you huffed.

“DEAL!” Killer replied, perhaps a little too quickly.

Like my stuff? Consider buying me a ko-fi

Taglist: @daydreamer-in-training @chairmanraph @florcxo @luvnisstuff @nocturnalrorobin @fanaticsnail

[katsukiizmoon]

bodyguard or bestfriend! katsuki who practically lives in your personal space, he's only "looking out for you" and "making sure you're okay" he definitely isn't dependent on feeling your warmth against him, he definitely doesn't get antsy when you're not near him, not at all

Second time writing this, tumblr ate it the first time 🥴 but no because I bet he leaves his shit there and then forgets.i have so many thoughts on this

Katsuki has practically raided every square inch of his apartment. He’s checked every basket, drawer, nook and cranny of the place— and he’s found four pair of boxers. Total.

There’s no way.

A frustrated groan leaves his lips when he notices missing sweatpants. His face twists into a scowl while he shoves the last of his dirty laundry into the washing machine. He snatches the detergent and tosses it in, pressing the button and turning on his heel.

He storms out of his apartment and shoves his keys into the door, locking it. And you know something’s off the moment he arrives. He huffs and puffs like he’s going to blow your house down. All the while, you sit perched on the couch with a basket of laundry and a no-brain-needed show on.

“I’m goin’ fucking insane.” Katsuki grits, carmine eyes peering into your ceiling.

You hum and toss a pair of panties into a nearby basket. A sigh leaves him as his chest sinks beneath the black tank top.

“You always are— but why now?” You raise a brow at his glare, resisting a snicker.

Your fingers lay purchase on a pair of his sweats. Effortlessly, you begin to fold and separate the rest of the laundry. Another pair of his sweats are in your hands as you pause to look at him.

“Searched the damn place top to bottom,” a sigh “- can’t find my shit. Got four pair of boxers. I’m losing it.” He grunts with an exasperated groan.

Katsuki peels his gaze from the ceiling to meet your own. You begin to chortle and snort.

The pair of sweatpants in your hands meet his face with a dull thud. Without thinking, katsuki yanks the offending fabric away and growls.

“Oí, asswipe-“ The second pair meets his face before he can finish and it takes all of three seconds for it to register.

“.. why d’you got my shit?” He takes a deep breath, just like his therapist told him to, trying not to jump to conclusions.

“You always leave your shit here— I’ve got an entire drawer. You’ve even got a toothbrush and face razor in my bathroom.” You challenge, holding up a pair of boxers you’ve just found in the basket.

Katsuki blinks. He has been over a lot. But it’s only because you can’t take care of yourself— you’d die! The blonde runs through memories of cup ramen and expired snacks in your fridge and pantry. His eyes roll.

“Well, I need my shit, brat.” He chooses to say instead.

You glance at the TV to see two of the girls arguing over what food to have at a party. Typical, there’s always that one bitch who wants fruit at a candy land themed party.

“Go for it, it’ll end up back here anyways-“ you chortle and toss a pair of clean boxers his way “-you’re over five days a week.”

Ruby orbs narrow, brows furrowing as he takes playful offense to your statement. A grin plasters across his face and he leans in.

“Wouldn’t have to if a certain shithead could take care of herself, now would i?” Katsuki taunts and assumes victory. He looks proud of himself.

Your brows shoot to your hairline and you laugh wildly. The task at hand half forgotten, fingers reaching into the basket to grab a random article of clothing and throw it at his head.

“Oh please, you come here for back rubs and head scratches.” The teasing tone of your voice has his eyes rolling. Hard.

Katsuki looks down at the fallen fabric and snorts. Big hands put the pink, scallop trim panties in the basket to your right while he formulates a good answer.

You’re not completely wrong.. but you can’t know that.

“Nah I c’mere cause’ you’ll get a scurvy if I don’t.” He lies, grabbing a towel to fold.

Banter continues on and off through the night. He talks shit on the show you’re watching but gets invested anyways. Like always. A plate of steaming curry is served for dinner and afterwards you show him to the stash of his items stored away in your bedroom.

He grumbles and flushes a peachy tone, throwing most of the items in his bag. He leaves two or three pairs, though.

You get lectured again on groceries even though he’s the one that cooks. And, now? There’s a grocery list on your fridge that says “k: bringing order on Monday” in not too-pretty handwriting.

Katsuki finds himself basking in the warmth of your hands later. Pretty fingers rub his taut muscles and tug at the roots of his hair. Nails drag up and down, up and down his shoulder and back casually. He’s out like a light in minutes.

He wakes up and chooses to ignore that he’s already left another set of clothing in your laundry basket.

[realcube]

ASKING THEM TO CHOOSE A BATHING SUIT FOR YOU

characters ♡ (all aged up) midoriya, todoroki, kirishima & kaminari

request for ♡ anon

tws ♡ implied sexual content - minors dni!

IZUKU MIDORIYA

♡ so flustered by the request

♡ no matter the circumstances

♡ like y'all could be going out for a couple weeks or you could be married for ten years with children, homie still doesn't know how to act

♡ and he is so apprehensive to ask why you want him to pick it out for you because on one hand he's curious about the implications and wants to explore that further but the LAST thing he wants is too ask too many questions for you to then turn around and be like "you know what, nevermind. i'll just buy it myself."

♡ so he will try to get information out of you covertly

♡ "well i think you'd look great in anything.. maybe something floral. unless you are dressing for a specfic occasion?????? 🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨"

♡ "you know i like the red one you have. you should wear that if i get to see you in it 🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨"

♡ "oh you like the orange one? ... orange like the colours of pro hero dynamight ? 🤨🤨🤨🤨"

♡ he somehow manages to spiral and come to the conclusion you are having an affair

♡ but then he remembers he's with the most faithful partner in the world and moves on

♡ he also so believes that this is like.. a relationship milestone

♡ like "omg we are dressing each other now ow 🤪"

♡ if it turns out y'all are going to the beach or pool or something he will ask you to choose his bathing suit too

♡ but yeah he just thinks its so sweet you let him choose what you wear and he gets a strange (temporary) power trip from it

♡ whenever you get changed next he'll silently be praying you let him pick your outfit for you

♡ the power trip doesn't last long though because when he actually has to pick the outfit he is lowkey kinda nervous especially if you are gonna wear it out in public

♡ he is so afraid of making the 'wrong' choice

♡ like he doesn't want to be held responsible if you go out in a ugly fit and people give you funny looks

♡ overthinks asf

♡ it takes him like 10 minutes of pinterest surfing and coordinating to decide and eventually he goes with the same bathing suit you wear almost every time

♡ if you guys are staying indoors though, he is too respectful to say it aloud so he simply blabbers on for ages in hopes you get the hint

♡ "uh well i mean me personally i just don't see the point of going to all the effort to put on a whole new bathing suit after taking your clothes off if it's just going to get wet anyway i mean it's just a waste of washing machine power, pro hero wash doesn't risk his life everyday for people to just throw things in the laundry when they don't need to , right —"

♡ there's more

♡ like he goes on for ages but you pick up what he trying to say after two sentences

♡ and you give the man what he wants 🤷‍♀️

SHOTO TODOROKI

♡ so confused

♡ like he is genuinely baffled; he just doesn't understand why you would want him to choose for you and why, out of all the outfits you wear, it's your swimwear you want him to pick

♡ he is going to ask a million questions before he even tries and i wear he's not doing it to be difficult or defiant , he is just so incredibly curious and WANTS to know what thought process led you to entrusting him with your ootd

♡ you explain that it's just a cute thing you wanted to try, so you could see what colours and designs he prefers on you

♡ he still doesn't fully get it because he's made it inexplicably clear by now that he loves the way you look in virtually anything — you could have rolled up to your wedding in crocs and he would've still been completely enamoured. in fact he'd fall for you even harder for making practical footwear choices.

♡ (not that he's a fan of holes in shoes , he thinks it defeats the purpose. but he'd find something positive about them if you were to wear them)

♡ but after being with you for so long and being a pro hero in an evolving society , he has learned to be open-minded and entertains your idea

♡ he is naturally quite stylish , so it likely goes into your wardrobe and picks something very understated and minimalistic

♡ anything you own that happens to all be one colour; a boring colour too like beige, grey or off-white

♡ even if it happens to be a skimpy piece he truly pays no mind to it, he's more focussed on the design and colour (or lack thereof)

♡ so likely he'll end up handing you a two-piece that is essentially just two pieces of thread on a hanger , and of course you will think there are implications behind that and start eyeing him 👀

♡ but having been married to him for x years, you recognise the blank expression he wears when there is not a thought in his head and you quickly realise that he wasn't suggesting anything by handing you such a provocative outfit

♡ he just likes the colour and fabric lol

♡ "it will really bring out your eyes"

♡ (doesn't know what that means; heard someone say it on tv once and now it's his go-to fashion compliment) (what he really means is "fashion fashion style bags purse clothes purse")

♡ it's only when you actually put it on and show him when he realises what he has done lmao

♡ standing there and staring at you like 🙂 "cute. where's the rest of it?"

♡ it looked a lot bigger when he was holding it and he didn't take into consideration how it stretches

♡ tries to subtly get you to change without admitting its revealing

♡ "very pretty. but i heard jean shorts are in season, why not try those?"

♡ "oh— is that a loose thread? hmph. i think you'll have to throw bathing suit away since it's ruined."

♡ "it's nice but i doesn't bring out your eyes like i originally thought. more so your chin."

♡ tbh he does not want to even admit to himself he has a problem with you wearing revealing clothes because there is no rational reason as to why he should have an issue with it but he just does and it hurts his brain

♡ even if other guys are checking you out that shouldn't matter bc he knows you're loyal and would never cheat so WHY does the thought make him want to freeze an entire city ???

♡ anyway you can tell just by looking at him that he's conflicted and fighting internal battles so you put him out of his misery by just changing into a different one

♡ (after that chin comment tho , he did NOT deserve your compassion 😞)

♡ once he has successfully styled you into a cute outfit he feels so proud of himself lk??

♡ also he still has a hard time understanding why you wanted him to pick your bathing suit 'just because' so in his head he rationalises that dressing each other is just something all long-term couples do and you guys have reached a relationship milestone

♡ similar to izuku except todoroki takes it WAY more seriously

♡ like randomly when he is getting ready, he'll ask you to pick the tie he is going to wear or even his shirt

♡ and if he is getting ready in the morning and you're not awake yet , he will literally make you help him plan his outfit the night before

♡ even for super formal pro hero related events where he is likely being styled by professionals, he will ask you to choose his cufflinks or belt or something like that

♡ just so he has a piece of you on him at all times ( besides his wedding band ofc 🤪)

♡ and yeah this isn't a temporary thing either. unless you ask him to stop, he will be asking you for your input on his clothing for the forseeable future

♡ he'll even start asking other people ( who he knows are married ) stuff like "what did your wife choose on your outfit?" or "oh nice watch, did your husband pick it out for you?" and he gets weird looks every time

EIJIRO KIRISHIMA

♡ he's probably the most normal about it

♡ like he doesn't see it as any sort of test so he isn't nervous or confused

♡ and he is able to aknowledge that it is only an outfit for one day so even if it isn't his best work, at least he tried ??

♡ but yeah he thinks it's sooo cute that you want him to pick your bath suit , makes him feel like he's putting his own mark on you (in a wholesome way) and he finally gets to dress you in his favourite colour

♡ RED!!!

♡ if you don't have any red swimwear he will fr go out and buy you some because that is all he wants to see you in lol and he would LOVE to match with you

♡ red bikini + red truncks combo question mark

♡ if you don't own any red or you don't want to match with him , he'll probably choose a top and bottom from two different sets and pair them together and think he is some sort of style icon for pairing neon pink and sage green but in reality it such a crime against fashion

♡ but you wear it anyway just to see the big dumb smile of his face when you walk out wearing his "creation"

♡ oh and be warned that after you let him style you once he is going to be obsessed with giving his input on your outfits for at least the next six months or until you tell him to stop

♡ it'll be like "kiri, i'm gonna wear this white blouse to the dinner tomororw. does it look better with these black trousers or this brown skirt?"

♡ you'll show him the two options and he'll STILL reply, "hm, have you considered jorts ?"

DENKI KAMINARI

♡ wants to be nonchalant about it sooo bad but is internally screaming dancing and doing backflips

♡ like he is THIS close to blowing a fuse when you ask him

♡ and like you've been married to him for this long so you knew it would drive him crazy and that is exactly what you wanted mwahaha

♡ yeah he tries to play this off casually like a cool , reserved guy who couldn't care less

♡ but we both know that is NOT who he is , in fact that is the furtherest thing away from what he is in this moment

♡ "i- i get to choose?" he stammers, pointing at himself before he clears his throat. plastering a confident grin on his face, "yeah, duh. i'm your husband of course i'm going to choose what bathing suit you wear."

♡ pro hero chargebolt recently saved a politican from a very life threatening fajita incident so naturally your household has come into a lot of money and thus had a pool built in your back garden so he assumed you wanted to take it for a test run

♡ you've both been so busy with work that the pool has been finished for over a week and neither of you have tried it out yet

♡ so he saunters over to the warbrode and shoves his arm in and rummages around

♡ less like he is sifting through clothes; more like he is pulling out a prize from that mystery bag filled with random treasures at the carnival

♡ after a couple seconds of searching, his face lights up as though he has found the perfect outfit for you

♡ he pulls out his arm; lo and behold he has his hand in the air with his fist wrapped around... nothing

♡ literally nothing

♡ he still looks at the air where a bathing suit SHOULD be with wide eyes and an impossible grin, "this would look great on you !! you've not worn it in so long. try it on!!"

♡ he throws it towards you and of course you 'catch it' despite there being nothing there because you are plenty familiar with his antics and have learned by now exactly how to deal with them

♡ you 'hold it' in your hands and nod along, "yes! i forgot about this old thing. i'll go put it on right now." you muse, walking out and towards the bathroom, "i'm sure the dads at the beach will love this one."

♡ denki nods confidently, chuffed with how awesome and fly he is .. until he caught that last part

♡ "(Y/N) WAIT !!!"

[belit0]

Obsessed with the High School Uchihas! I love the way you write them!

I could definitely see someone thinking Obito is the “safe” choice bc while he’s Uchiha he’s a little goofy, but can also be nice and soft (especially compared to Izuna and Shisui who are terrorizing the girls lmao sleeping with you then leaving ghosting them) but Wrong! So wrong. Obito won’t let reader go (especially after rin) reader belongs to him now, they can’t escape him, or the other Uchiha. I can see Izuna and Shisui pressuring reader into not leaving or even hinting to Obito that they would because it would ruin him. They’re like “you’re not leaving him, and if you try we’ll find you and drag you back”

Not to mention he just wouldn’t except it “we broke up? Remeber?” Obi: “I know you were mad and I gave you some space to calm down but can you stop being mean now?” He just ignores it completely

Dark Obito is my favorite type of Obito, by far. More high school au!!!!!!

The hallway was quiet, lights low, most students already gone. She hadn’t expected to see him.

But there he was.

Leaning near her locker, arms crossed, school blazer undone, tie half-loosened like he'd waited for hours. Messy hair. Unreadable eyes.

The hallway was dead silent. Fluorescents buzzing low. Everyone else was gone. She didn’t expect to see him.

But there he was.

Leaning on the lockers like he lived there. School blazer open, shirt half-untucked, red tie hanging loose around his neck like a noose he hadn’t decided to pull tight yet. His hair was a mess. His eyes were worse.

She froze mid-step, hand still hovering near the lock.

-What do you want?-

Obito tilted his head. That lazy tilt. That I'm-not-mad-just-done-playing expression he wore when he stopped pretending to be normal.

-You've been acting weird.- His voice was soft. Too soft. -Kinda figured you’d be over your little protest by now.-

-I’m not—this isn’t a protest. I told you, I’m done.—

-Yeah, I heard that part,- he interrupted, still calm. -Doesn’t mean it counts. I didn’t say yes.-

Her stomach dropped.

-That’s not how this works, Obito. I don’t need your permission to walk away.-

He pushed off the locker, took a step. No sudden moves. Nothing loud. Just steady, slow, like he was approaching a cornered animal.

-I know you're upset,- he said. -I messed up. I get that. I’m not pretending I didn’t. But you don’t throw shit away just ‘cause it got hard.-

-You scared me,- she said. Voice shaking. -You still do.-

He stopped. Blinked. Like the words didn’t compute.

Then came the smile. Thin. Crooked.

-Scared... Don’t say that like it means anything, baby. You know I’d never hurt you. You’re mine. You picked me, remember? That’s not something you get to unsign just ‘cause you’re feeling dramatic one week.-

His hand brushed her wrist. Barely there.

She flinched.

He didn’t pull back.

-You belong with me. To me. So quit this before it turns into something it doesn’t need to be. Let’s go. I’ll walk you home.-

His grip closed around her wrist. Firm. Not violent. But firm like gravity. Like it was already decided.

And the worst part?

He said it like it was sweet.

//

The courtyard felt like it should’ve been safe. People always lingered there. Groups behind hedges. Someone smoking. Laughter tucked in corners. Noise. Movement.

Not today.

Today it emptied.

Fast.

She didn’t even hear them approach. That was the terrifying part.

Shisui and Izuna didn’t walk—they glided. Like the air bent around them. They weren’t close enough to touch, but it still felt like her personal space had already been stolen.

Expensive cologne. Cigarettes. Arrogance. It hit like a scent you couldn’t wash off.

-You’ve been keeping low,- Shisui said, casual as hell, like this was a run-in at the vending machines. -Everything good, princess? You sick or just ghosting?-

Izuna didn’t speak. He just stared. Head tilted slightly. Mouth a flat line.

She didn’t answer.

Smart.

Shisui leaned back against the wall, easy, grin playing at the edge of his mouth like he wasn’t already building a trap in his head. -Obito’s been all fucked up about you. Lost, actually. And it’s not a good look on him. Makes people talk.-

-We’ve been watching him,- Izuna finally spoke, voice low and bored. -And you.-

Her chest tightened. Leaving wasn't even an option. She knew that. Instinct said stay still. Keep breathing.

Shisui nodded like they were discussing the weather. -We’re not pissed. Just disappointed. You had something good. Real. And you threw it. That’s... dangerous.-

Izuna’s voice barely carried. -For you.-

-Very dangerous,- Shisui echoed, that grin never shifting. -See, people hear things. And nobody here’s gonna cry if you say something. They'll laugh. Call it delusional. Jealous. You really think anyone breaks up with an Uchiha and walks away clean?-

Izuna’s gaze didn’t waver. -You’d be the school joke by lunch. Screaming for attention. Another clingy mess.-

-But that’s not what we want,- Shisui said gently, brushing imaginary dust off her shoulder. -We like you. Obito’s been... saner. Since you showed up.-

-Stopped breaking shit for no reason,- Izuna added. -Stopped putting people in the hospital. For a while.-

Shisui chuckled under his breath. -You’re a good influence. Be a shame if he lost that. You keep him calm. Balanced.-

-Sane,- Izuna said again. The repetition wasn’t accidental.

Her heart thundered.

And then it got quiet. The kind of quiet that stretched too long. Made the world feel like it was holding its breath.

Izuna’s stare sharpened. -So think hard before doing something dumb. There’s no going back from it.-

-This isn’t a threat,- Shisui smiled, voice full of poison wrapped in honey. -It’s just a heads-up. Between friends.-

Then they turned and left. No urgency. No warning.

Just two shadows peeling off the walls and fading back into the world like they’d never been there.

And she was left in the courtyard.

Wide open.

Nowhere felt safe.

Not anymore.

[synthetickitsune]

Minghao (SVT) | Washing your hoodie comfort | 0.6k | gn!reader

Minghao’s wearing the fond smile that’s reserved only for the people closest to him. Mostly you. You know it without looking at him. And you won’t look at him, even though that smile is a sight you’ll never tire of. It’s a masterpiece honestly, the epitome of love you think. Yet you don’t turn his way, not even when you feel his finger poking at your cheek softly.

“I already apologized,” he whispers, his voice dripping in that damn smile, in that adoration of his that only ever belonged to you, “Even though there was nothing to apologize for.”

He’s right - logically you know it. But you’re feeling irrational and emotional. Not really upset, but you think if you were a different kind of person, you might’ve been. Anyway, it’s not about whether he apologized or not. 

“I really wanted to wear that hoodie, Hao,” you grumble quietly, curling further into yourself. His hand cups your knee. By now you think his lips will be gently curled into an amused smile. He moves closer and you don’t put the distance back between you. “It’s really comfy.”

“I know, darling,” he acknowledges, “But you already wore it so much this week that it needed washing.”

He’s right of course, you know it. Honestly it’s a little embarrassing that you didn’t immediately add it to the laundry and that he had to be the one to throw it into the washing machine just before you shut the door. He started the cycle before you could protest. Hence why you’re sulking like a child who had their blanket taken away.

“Still… Just once more…” you murmur, trailing off. There’s really nothing more to say. 

“That’s never how it goes.” He says it kindly, without judgment. And again, you know he’s right. He knows you too well for your and his own good. “Are you really upset?”

You think about it. You know you’re not, and you think he knows it too. Even if you were, him genuinely checking on you would probably make you not be anymore. So you shake your head. He hums, fond, loving. Minghao told you once before that he likes the quiet and simple life with you. That he likes he doesn’t have to worry about you being upset with him for every small thing. Not that you believe that would be possible with a man like him. And that he likes the small quiet bickering that sometimes occurs, as if just to add a little spice to the relationship - a neat sprinkle of cinnamon on a whipped cream on top of your favorite hot chocolate.

You haven’t noticed how close he moved, haven’t noticed when his arms enveloped you and pulled you into his body, but here you are now. Still curled into a ball, but now Hao’s curled around you too, your calves bent over his thighs, your ear right above his soothing heartbeat. It makes you think. It’s always so calm. Whenever you’ve listened to his heartbeat, it was so even, so steady. There are times when it races under your fingertips, his chest as sweaty as your palm, but those are not times when his heartbeat is on your mind.

“Better?” he asks, softly, like he doesn’t want to startle you awake from whatever daydream you drifted off to.

You nod with a small noise. You nuzzle closer. He smells like the fresh laundry he hung just before you put in the next load and your subsequent sulking session. You hide from him further. His lips press against the top of your head before he rests his chin there. He envelops you so completely you can easily imagine this is all there is to the world - just his warmth, his nice scent, and the safety he provides. Comfort personified.

[samkerrworshipper]

i will wait for you | leah williamson x reader & barcelona team x reader

INCOMPLETE SPOILER !!!!!!!

i’m so sorry i’ve been inactive this weekend i’ve been trying my v harfest to catch up on my course work ☠️

haven’t written anything or even had a chance to look at my reqs so thought i’d bless y’all with a little draft that i can’t even manage to complete so enjoy a little spoiler of a req that i got x

it’s just pure pain, angst and probably going to end in smut but we’ll see 👀

You knew that this time when you went down it was different. All you’d been doing was sprinting up the sideline, your eyes focused solely on Alexia as she shot the ball a few feet in front of you. It was a good pass, a good line that had you heading straight for goal, hopefully it would secure your first in the Champions League final against Wolfsburg. It took a mere split second before you collapsed on the ground in complete agony. The umpire's whistle had blown almost immediately, your teammates huddling around you to give you some privacy whilst the medic made their way over to you, everyone trying to figure out what had happened. You were writhing against the pitch, screaming in pain that no one knew the source of. All you could do was sob and reach for your ankle as the medics tried their hardest to assess you and get you loaded onto a stretcher.

You were in unfathomable pain, resulting in the team's medics making the executive decision to pump you full of pain meds before they wheeled you off to the x-ray machines. You were a sobbing mess, the realisation kicking in that you were in so much pain and the realisation that your Champions League dream was over.

The x-rays confirmed your suspicions and you watched from the medical room as your team secured three goals against your opponents and when the whistle finally blew, they all became Champions. You watched as they all fell to their knees on the pitch, they were back to back champions, you were bedridden.

Instead of being out partying with the rest of the girls, you were put on the first flight back to Barcelona, you were in Bilbao, so they loaded you directly onto a medical helicopter and flew straight back to Barcelona. You passed out on the ride their, with the mix of disappointment and drugs mixing in your system to send you into a discomforting slumber.

When you woke up you were in a hospital in Barcelona. A series of doctors outlining to you the severity of your injury and what the coming weeks looked like for you. You tried your hardest to listen to their drawl, but it all went in one ear and came out the other. After they were done you insisted on being discharged, even with their warning words about the fact that it would be best if you stayed for another day or so, just before someone returned to take you back to your apartment and look after you whilst you were on such intense pain meds. You ignored their pleas, insisting that you go home by yourself, you didn’t want nor need their pity.

You got yourself home, in an uber, high off of the pain meds that were the only thing keeping you on your feet. You’d never liked crutches, found them extremely awkward and hard to use. You’d never believed that statement more than right now, as you attempted to crutch your way up the stairs of your apartment so you could make it to your bed. You were woozy on your feet, the drugs you were on making you sway as you tried your very hardest to focus on the step in front of you.

It took everything you had to make it to your bed, the pain, the tears, the pure need you had in your soul to just do it by yourself. You’d never felt more alone in your life, your team was too busy celebrating, your family was too busy doing other things to even think about you. By the time you made it to your bed you were completely spent, throwing yourself down into the sheets and falling into a deep sleep.

You awoke a horrific amount of times during the night, trembles of pain washing across your body directly from your ankle. It was gut wrenching pain, but you’d left your pain meds downstairs and you hardly trusted yourself on crutches during the day, let alone in the middle of the night. So you stayed in your bed, writhing in pain all throughout the night, willing for the sun to arise so you could finally get access to the medication you need so heavily. You knew there were people you could call, even if your teammates were in a different part of Spain. You knew that they would do anything to make you feel better, but you just couldn’t manage it, the guilt of taking away from their win was too much for you to bear.

When the sun finally did rise you tried your hardest to push yourself out of your bed and onto your crutches, but your legs felt like jelly. So instead of doing the rash thing and calling somebody, you pushed yourself down onto the floorboards of your room and started the gruelling process of pushing yourself against the floorboards and towards your stairs.

If crutches managed to hurt your ankle, then scooting yourself against the floors of your house was gruelling, a true struggle. Getting down your stairs was a nightmare, every single bump or nudge against the boot your ankle had been secured in was agony. The clunky thing was no help, it weighed down your ankle and made it a far bigger target for lodging itself on the edge of a stair.

Eventually, with tears flowing freely down your face you made it down the stairs and scooted yourself into the kitchen of your house, where you’d left the medications given to you by your doctors the day before. You reached up to your kitchen bench, clawing whatever you could reach for off of the ledge and brushing them down onto the floor beside you. It took all of your energy to get the medications down on the floor next to you, so you were relieved when you saw that you’d managed to scoop up the oxycodone pills from above you, which you knew would be enough to dull some of the pain you were feeling. You dry swallowed three pills, popping them into your mouth and forcing them down.

You looked across at the staircase in your apartment, your eyes were slowly becoming hooded and you knew you weren’t going to be able to make it back up the stairs, plus your apartment floor wasn’t that uncomfy right now?

You couldn’t help but slump against your kitchen bench, sleep and pain overwhelming you as you passed out on the floor of your kitchen.

“Y/n/n, babygirl, wake up for me.”

It was the feeling of a hand shaking against your face that brought you back to the world. In your drug induced haze it took a few seconds for your eyes to focus on the person responsible for your awakening.

“Ale, what are you doing here?”

You pushed her hand away from you, feeling a little bit vulnerable in your current position as she looked down at you from her position standing above you. Alexia was frowning down at you, and just as you’d finished taking her in you began to realise a lot of your team was piled into your apartment, you couldn’t make out everyone though.

“Bebita, we haven’t heard from you since the game, we’ve all been worried sick, you haven’t been answering anybody’s calls or texts.”

I tried my best to work up whatever courage and dignity I had, which was hard considering I was dressed in an oversized Barcelona champions shirt and whatever shorts the hospital must have been able to find to put me in.

“I’m fine, you can all leave, go back to celebrating.”

They all looked some form of hungover, they should be out partying, celebrating the win, instead they’d congregated in your house, which was honestly making you feel so much worse.

“I won’t have that tone pequeño, you clearly aren’t fine, if you were you wouldn’t be passed out on your kitchen floor after ghosting everybody for the last two days. I know you are in pain, but that does not warrant you pushing everybody out.”

Alexia’s voice was harsh, the voice she reserved for when she was making orders on the pitch, a voice that would normally have you quivering under her, but the mixture of the pain and embarrassment you were feeling was enough fuel for your drugged up state to use.

“Joder! I’m fine, go party, go celebrate, Estoy Bien, Déjame en paz.”

Your tone wouldn’t go over well, you knew that but the confidence from your statement was apparently fuel for you to stand yourself up from the ground on your own. You felt the shooting pain going up your leg almost immediately, as you struggled to balance with only one functioning foot. Alexia knitted her brows together, clenching her jaw as you watched her try to keep her composure, you never pushed a hungover Alexia, it never had a good result.

“I understand that you are in pain and that you don’t want to acknowledge. You need help though, and we have all come to give it, so please just let us.”

I looked at Alexia, she was standing a foot away from me, pure anguish and concern on her face.

“I’m fine, leave me alone, I know you all have celebrations to get back to, so please, go.”

I took a step on my injured foot, a big mistake that had me groaning in pain and Alexia’s arms coming up to my sides to stop me from going any further.

“Bebita, you are a part of that winning team, you deserve to be out celebrating with us, you clearly aren’t fine and we are all here to support you through that, however you need.”

You shook Alexia off of you, trying your very hardest to balance on a foot that wasn’t working,

“Vete a la mierda. Leave, get out of my house.”

You were getting annoyed and aggressive fast and quickly, something that your teammates seemed to pick up on.

“Leahhas called me, probably a 100 times, she’s worried sick about you, you can’t push everybody out forever, just because you are injured does not make you unlovable.”

Alexia’s words echoed against the walls of my house, her voice having risen to meet mine.

“Get out of my house, right now, before I call the police.”

Alexia exhaled deeply, she shooed the rest of the women that had piled themselves into my house out, leaving just you and her. You leant back against your kitchen bench, needing the assistance to keep you on your two feet, the pressure on your ankle becoming too much for you to be able to handle.

“You need help, I don’t care whether or not you know it but you do, we found you passed out on your kitchen floor and if that isn’t a big enough indicator then I don’t know what is. You can push us all out till the cows come home but it’s not achieving anything. You're going to let me take you up the stairs and back to bed, I’ll set you up with your meds and ice packs, I don’t care how much you hate it but I am going to be here for you whether or not you want me to be here.”

You glared at Alexia, your jaw set as a stone as the older women that had quickly become your adoptive older sister at Barca looked at you pointedly. There was no room for argument in her voice, like a drill sergeant.

Alexia walked towards you, taking you in her arms and letting your silent tears drip onto her shirt as she lifted you up, removing the pressure from your foot and carrying you up your stairs and to your bedroom. You cried silently into her, annoyed by the loss of your dignity so openly in front of your teammates. She helped to tuck you into your bed, elevating your ankle onto a pillow and very gently easing it out of the boot it was strapped into. The doctor’s had wrapped it up in bandages to keep it secure, so you were able to remove it from the boot to ice it. Alexia pressed an ice pack to your ankle, before procuring your meds and a drink bottle out of nowhere and leaving them on your bedside.

“Anything else you need?”

You glared straight out at the wall in front of you, lying back in your bed and refusing to look at Alexia.

“Leave.”

Alexia tried her hardest over the next week to get you to let her in. You pushed her out. You refused to leave bed besides going to the bathroom, which was not just detrimental to your physical health but also your mental health. You weren’t on your phone at all, refused to even look at it because you didn’t want to see any of the pity that was being thrown your way. Alexia tried her hardest, she came into your room at 7am every morning, prepped with breakfast that you never ate and your meds that were the only thing keeping you pain free at the moment. She tried her hardest to get you out of bed to go to your recovery appointments, but you refused to leave. Alexia was at her wits end. You needed surgery but a part of your surgery prep was that you needed to do some kind of recovery, that you needed to be strong enough to withstand that kind of toll on your body. You were depressed, something that was detrimental to your wellbeing going into surgery, if you asked the Catalan, you needed a kick up the ass, but nothing was working. Eventually, after day seven, you’d become mobile enough that she didn’t have any excuse to stay in your house anymore, you’d been very vocal about that so she’d left, apprehensively, unsure about what more she could do for you.

“Alexia, I’ve told you to fuck off.”

The sound of somebody's shoes scuffing against your doormat downstairs and your front door closing behind you was enough to make you unhappy. After seven gruelling days you’d finally gotten rid of Alexia, but now she was back and it was making you stir crazy. You could just make out the sound of her bare feet trudging up the stairs, nearing your bedroom door and opening it up.

“Leave me alone.”

You buried your head further into your pillows, pillows that were now beginning to smell a little bit too much like your. You pulled your head as physically close to the pillows as you could, twisting your body as far as you could without dislodging your ankle from its spot elevated on your bed.

“I’m not Alexia, if that helps?”

Your head shot out of your pillow and for a split second you wondered if the oxy delirium was getting to you. Alexia had been weaning you off the hard drugs, giving you less each day and replacing it with ibuprofen, which had the reverse effect on you, making you more delusional than you had been on the full strength drugs, you had more energy now though then you had a few days ago, so you could have just blamed it on you being more awake and present.

“Leah?”

You’d been avoiding your phone for a number of reasons, but number one on the list had been your girlfriend. For some reason, she was always the last person you wanted to talk to when you got injured, it made you feel guilty, ungrateful, especially considering she’d just missed out on playing you in the final this year.

“Hey baby girl.”

She looked exhausted, like she’d just gotten off a plane and it made you feel bad. Leah had spent a lot of time in your home in Barcelona, international breaks, time off, injury time, every time was enjoyable, but this time felt different.

“W-What are you doing here?”

Leah made her way further into your room, walking over to your shades and opening them a little bit, allowing more light then the very little amount that was peaking through the bottom of your shades.

“Alexia called, she said that you were in bad shape, that you needed someone and that someone had to be me. So I got on the first flight I could. She said that what you’d done was serious, full ankle ligament tears, all four of them and that you were struggling, so I got here as soon as I could.”

You let your bottom lip worry in between your teeth, as you watched Leah make her way around your room, picking up the loose articles of clothing that were on your floor, memories of Alexia fighting with you to get changed ran through your mind, a daily battle that always ended with you crying and screaming at her. Leah flung it all into your laundry basket, a little task that she always gave herself, always scared that one of us would trip and fall on a piece of clothing in the middle of the night, that fear now having escalated with crutches being brought into the picture.

“I’m fine, I would have called if I needed you, you're supposed to be with the team, they need you now more than I do.”

Leah turned back around to you, shedding her hoodie and slinging it into the laundry basket before addressing your sentence.

“Would you have? Because you didn’t and you seemed to be struggling pretty hard, Alexia called me, balling her eyes out because she was so scared that you were going to never leave bed. The girls need me, but you need me more right now, whether you know it or not, so I’m here, whatever you need, I’m here, for as long as you need.”

Leah sat herself down on the opposite edge of my bed, the one that was cold and empty. You looked at her anxiously, trying to decide whether or not you could fall into her right now, if she would catch you.

“I’m fine.”

[yuzurins]

# to tell you the truth

23 — concern

smau masterlist ∗ previous chapter ∗ next chapter

tw: not proofread + ky$ joke

“y/n, can you go refill the water?” the assistant coach calls to you.

“yes, one second!” you reply, hurriedly rushing to the water fountain as soon as you finish your previous task. 

it’s been a week since you started as the manager of your school’s football team, but every practice feels like an eternity. at least it was a fun learning experience, despite the constant running around.

the coach finally calls the team in for a huddle, marking the end of practice. a sigh of relief subconsciously slips your mouth; you wish you could be more dramatic about your exhaustion, if only you didn’t sign up voluntarily.

the assistant coach notices however, and walks over to pat your shoulder. “sometimes i think the staff have it worse than the players.”

you smile at her. “i’m beginning to understand why no one was willing to be manager.”

she laughs, but pats your back a little harder this time. “yeah, but you’re not leaving anytime soon. right, y/n?”

an awkward laugh leaves your mouth as you begin to rethink your decisions.

“right?” she repeats, furrowing her brows.

“right!”

“now that’s more like it!” she grins. “i know it’s been extra tiring today, so i’ll you off early.”

you blink. no way this was true—

“after you take all the jerseys to the laundry room. thank you!”

you groan (extra) loudly as you trudge over to the dirty bin of jerseys.

“8, 11, 15, huh, where’s 10?” you mumble while fishing the jerseys out and into the washing machine.

it probably just fell out on the way here. you weren’t really paying attention anyways.

but a wave of anxiety hits you halfway to the field as you remember who wore jersey #10.

itoshi rin. the bane of your existence.

reluctantly, you continue retracing your steps, staying extra cautious in case rin was still around to notice you dropped his jersey.

except the light wind and smell of grass reach you before you retrieve the jersey. in the middle of the field, you notice a tall figure adorning the missing jersey, and of course, you recognized them at a glance.

what is he doing? he shouldn’t even be here now right. isn’t he tired?

a flurry of emotions run through your head. was it surprise? frustration? concern?

whatever the case, you needed the jersey back to go home. it doesn’t matter if he wanted to stay until dawn—you were going to rip that jersey off him if you had to.

“itoshi!” you call out with your hands around your mouth. “don’t you think that’s enough?”

rin glances at you ever so slightly. he looks you up and down, before going back to practice. 

did he just ignore you?

“hello?” you shout louder this time, “i know you can hear me!”

“what do you want,” he responds, rolling his eyes. “can you leave me alone?”

“what i want is your stupid jersey,” you swiftly pick up a towel on a bench nearby and wave it at him. “i can’t leave if i don’t finish this.”

he grunts. “well you aren’t getting it anytime soon, so just leave. i doubt the assistant coach would care if there’s one missing.”

you purse your lips and walk closer to him. “i don’t care. take your jersey off, it won’t feel right if i leave without it.”

but before you could finish your sentence, rin’s already running across the field, dribbling the ball faster than you can comprehend.

the fucking audacity this guy has.

guess he doesn’t know you could run, too. you didn’t join track in primary for nothing. still holding the towel, you sprint after rin, to which he responds by speeding up.

the two of you end up running 5 laps around the field until rin finally slows down.

after catching your breath, you question him. “why are you still here? practice ended ages ago.”

“can’t you just,” he pants, “mind your own business? don’t you just need this—damn jersey?”

you scoff, furrowing your brows as you hold yourself back from throwing the towel at him. “don’t let it get to your head, itoshi. it’s an obligation as the manager to care for every member on the team.”

still hunched over with his hands on his knees, rin glares at you, his gaze colder than ice. “yeah, then you shouldn’t have joined if you can’t handle it. must be hard saying no to whatever your boyfriend says–”

the towel hits rin’s right cheek before he can finish his sentence. you would’ve been fine if rin was only shit-talking you to your face, but once he brought up isagi, the last of your patience had finally let out. you didn’t even remember the reason you came here in the first place.

“wow,” rin laughs out of spite. “did i hit a nerve there?” 

“isagi is NOT my boyfriend.“ you mutter. “and i joined because i wanted to. there must be something wrong with your head if you can’t understand something as simple as that.”

“fine, now can you just get out of my face?” rin sighs before turning around to resume his routine of endless drills.

you frown at not being able to have the last word, but turn away in anger as you storm off to the club room. 

you’re done trying to get through to rin. all of this could’ve been done and over if he had just taken off his jersey and changed into another shirt. if he can’t perform even the smallest act of human decency, than he isn’t worth your time.

the orange from the setting sun peaks through the hallway window, reminding you just how long you’ve stayed after school today. weren’t you supposed to leave early today, anyways?

after cleaning up and finishing all your work for the day, you reluctantly go back to check on rin. you’ve stayed longer than expected, and the sun has fully set now. all the other students who stayed back for clubs have left, leaving just you in the empty hallway. 

you can’t help but feel frustrated that you still care for rin even after all your terrible interactions with him. 

you want to hate him, but you can’t. you want to ignore him, but you just can’t.

an unexpected silence looms as you approach the corner before the football field. you stop in place in an attempt to listen more closely in case any sounds happen to slip your mind. 

but still, nothing at all.

your heart drops, and you sprint to the field. the only explanation behind the eerie silence is that rin stopped practising, but you knew that that wasn’t the case.

frantically, you scan the field as you try to locate rin. the sound of your heart thumping fills the air, sounding loud enough to be an earthquake. after what feels like minutes, you finally locate a lump of blue towards the net. 

“rin!” you exclaim, the adrenaline causing you to overlook the usage of his given name.

trying your best to stay calm, you check his pulse immediately and sigh in relief when it’s still beating. carefully, you do your best to pick him up and drag him over to the bench on the side of the field. you take your jacket off and place it around him as you run back into the school to find the school nurse. 

as you sprint down that same hallway, you thank your past self for taking that first aid class for fun during freshmen year. 

your hand hastily grips the door to the nurse’s office. “miss—are you still—here?” 

the nurse, with her jacket and purse, jumps in surprise from the other side of the room. “my, y/n, you scared me! why are you still at school?”

the fatigue from your sprint finally catches up with you, and you pant as you barely manage to get your words out. “rin’s passed out in the field—he’s unconscious, he—needs help!” 

quickly processing your words, the nurse drops her stuff and runs out. you turn around to follow her, but she puts a hand on your shoulder. 

“y/n, you’re out of breath. i know how stressful this was, and i thank you for responding so earnestly. but i’ve got it now, so you sit down and take a break.” 

the nurse smiles, telling you more before you can reject her advice.

“everything will be fine, i promise. now just breathe, and drink some water, would you?”

you nod, seemingly mesmerised by her reassurance. your legs finally give out, and you fall to the floor.

note: hi its been a long time pls don't mind if my writing sucks u get the point

pairing ∗ itoshi rin x f!reader

synopsis — all you wanted was a peaceful and productive uni life, but despite your pleas, your plans start crumbling when the star of the football team, itoshi rin, begins to beat you in every aspect possible. as you confront the inevitable, what happens when you uncover secrets behind an unforgettable event from the past?

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[nxrvqna]

pantystealer!choso thinks he’s slick, and for some time he is. it had all began when he found your dirty laundry mixed with his. he wasn’t complaining. he especially wasn’t complaining when he found it was a pair of light pink lace panties amongst his shirts and trousers. he brought a hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose, a light blush dusting his cheeks. he paused for a second before picking it up, turning around to call you before the dark spot on your panties caught his eye, causing him to let out a guttural groan.

choso complains to you about how the basement washing machines must be eating all the clothes, how apparently his clothes have been going missing. planting the seed of doubt made it so much easier for him to perv around. you’re not home? perfect, choso will rummage through drawers, searching for your undergarments. you need to wash a load? choso is the perfect roommate, insisting on taking your clothes downstairs to wash, and does it oh, so diligently. when you’re only a room away and he tugs his cock in the dead of night with your underwear wrapped around him, he does so with a heavy heart, unable to free himself from his depraved habit.

it’s only a few weeks later when you two are eating together for the first time in weeks, does he realise his scheme has been foiled. you sit beside him, knees touching, when you excuse yourself to grab something. choso, being the degenerate he is, can't help but let his eyes travel up your legs to underneath your skirt, where he is greeted by your bare pussy, glistening under the light of the living room. he has no time to compose himself, letting out a strangled gasp. you look down at him with a saccharine smile. "sorry cho, did i not mention how i've ran out of underwear?"

and that is how he finds himself quivering and trembling under you, his hands trying to dictate the pace of your riding. his attempt to seize control contradicts the short moans and gasps you're pulling out from him. the way his ruddy tip gives your cervix a sweet kiss every so often has him keening. "cho- choso, i can't believe you went through all that effort, to- to hide how dirty you really are." you moan above him.

his dark tufts of hair littering his pubic bone scratch deliciously against your centre of nerves, causing you to squeeze and clench around him. "i-i'm sorry, i jus-." he chokes out as you tug on his raven locks. you place pecks along his delicate cheekbones, lipgloss leaving shiny marks. he feels you tighten around him and throws his head into the crook of your neck, big arms snaking around the circle of your waist to let him thrust up into you.

you let out a whine and tug your bottom lip between your pearly teeth. "don't stop, baby, right there!" egged on by your words, choso continues his ministrations, until he finds you milking him for all he's worth, cunt clenching like a vice as you spill all over his thighs, making a mess. he follows suit, spurting out white ribbons of hot cum, before slumping forward against you.

you run your hands through his hair, smoothing and caressing him. you laugh, the noise melodious in the sex- filled air. "you're taking me shopping tomorrow for some underwear. you can pick out a few pieces as well." choso looks up at your grin, a deep blush rushing to his face. his head falls on your chest, finding purchase between the valley of your breasts.