#if i try and shower without eating or drinking enough first

[danieyells]

Okay i ate lunch which means i can shower for real now--

[mechsangel]

dating , ft. itoshi sae

i. acts cold, but he's so whipped

sae isn't the type to shower you with compliments, but he shows his love in subtle actions

remembers everything—your favorite drink, the way you like your ramen, even the fact that you always lose your socks

if you get cold, he'll throw his jacket at you without a word. if you try to thank him, he just shrugs. "don't be dumb. you'll get sick."

if you tell him you love him, his response is always a quiet “i know”. but on rare occasions, when he's really soft, he'll murmur back, “love you too.”

ii. he's not big on PDA—except when he's jealous

sea doesn't like public affection—no hand-holding, no kissing in front of others. but the second someone flirts with you?

he'll casually wrap an arm around your waist, and say in his usual deadpan voice, “they're taken. try harder next time.”

if someone really doesn't get the hint, he'll stare them down until they leave

iii. he shows love through small gestures

sends you texts like “eat.” or “don't stay up too late.” instead of actual sweet messages

if you complain, he'll roll his eyes but later send something like “i guess i don't want you collapsing or something.” (his version of: i care about you)

if he sees you're stressed, he'll silently hand you your favorite snack. he won't say anything, just sit beside you until you feel better

iv. he's secretly super soft when it's just you two

when it's just the two of you, his walls come down

will lay his head in your lap after a long day of training and let you play with his hair

if you initiate a hug, he'l grumble at first but will always hold onto you for longer than necessary

the kind of boyfriend who will pull you closer in his sleep but deny it in the morning

v. he's blunt, but he never lies to you

sae doesn't sugarcoat things. if you ask for his opinion, expect brutal honesty.

“that outfit is terrible. i'm not letting you go out like that.”

but if you look good? he won't say it directly, just smirks and stares a little too long before muttering, “hurry up before i change my mind and keep you here.”

vi. he'll always put soccer first, but you're a close second

soccer is his life, and he won't pretend otherwise

if he's away for games, he won't text much, but when he does it's always something unexpectedly sweet

“scored a goal today. thought you'd want to know” (which is basically his way of saying i was thinking about you)

if you ever doubt your relationship, he'll just look at you and say, “i chose to be with you. that should be enough.”

vii. he's unintentionally romantic

would never plan extravagant dates, but somehow, the small things he does feel more intimate

if you fall asleep on the couch, he'll carry you to bed without waking you up

when he's overseas, he always brings you something back—even if it's just a keychain or a snack from another country

“it looked stupid, so i got it for you” (translation: i saw this and thought of you)

viii. he'll never say it, but he needs you

sae is used to being alone, but with you, it's different

he won't ask for affection, but if you pull him into a hug, he'll sigh and melt into it—like he's been waiting for it all day

you're the only person he lets see his vulnerable side

[mugglebornmarvelite]

Husband Material

Paring: TASM!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Summary: It was one of those days where nothing seemed to go right. A proper shit day and all you need is a hug from your boy.

Word Count: Roughly 1.1k words

Warnings: Domestic fluff, reader has a shitty day, one curse word, mild innuendo, slight angst if you squint

Author’s Note: A little drabble for those who need a Peter Parker hug. This was done at 3 in the morning and is barely edited.

Navigation

Divider by: @strangergraphics

It had been one of those days.

From the moment you woke up, everything seemed to go wrong. Work was a disaster. Your boss was unusually demanding and you got bad news from a co-worker. Plus, the heated argument with a family member during lunch had left a bitter taste in your mouth.

That sealed the deal.

It was a fucking horrible day.

By the time you got home, you felt like a storm cloud ready to burst.

It was a complete and utter shit day.

As you unlocked the door, Peter was on a call, gesturing to you with a warm smile and mouthing, “Hey, bug,” before leaning in to press a quick kiss to your temple. It was a small thing, but it helped

You offered him a faint smile, the best you could muster, before muttering something about needing a shower.

The hot water didn’t wash away the bad day like you hoped it would. Instead, it just made you feel even more exhausted.

You got dressed with a deep sigh, trying to summon the energy to face the rest of the evening.

But your sour mood came to pause when you saw Peter. Your Peter.

Peter was on the couch, a mug of tea resting on the coffee table in front of him, his glasses perched low on his nose. His eyebrows were furrowed in an adorable scrunch as his long fingers absently toyed with the corner of the page as he read.

You couldn't decide if you wanted to bury your face in his sweater or have him buried inside you until you couldn't think.

He was wearing his softest sweater, the light blue one you always steal, and a pair of loose sweatpants that hang just right on his hips.

He looks impossibly cozy, his hair slightly messy, and the sight alone makes your heart ache in the best way.

Peter glances up as he hears your footsteps. “Hey, bug,” he says with a smile on his face, his voice warm, making you want to melt into him. “Everything okay?”

You nod, but the corners of your mouth tremble as you step closer. “I just need a hug,” you whisper, your voice small.

Without hesitation, Peter sets the book down, his glasses slipping off his nose and he rests them on top of his book.

“Come here,” he says, his arms already opening for you.

You practically fall into him, burying your face in his chest as his arms wrap securely around you. He’s warm and his sweater is so soft. The faint scent of his cologne and the tea he was drinking enveloping you.

Peter holds you tightly, one hand gently rubbing circles on your back, the other cradling the back of your head.

“You’re okay,” Peter murmured, rubbing slow circles on your back. “I’ve got you.”

You sniffled, clinging to him tighter. “It was such a shit day.”

“I know, bug.” His lips brushed the top of your damp hair. “I could tell the second you walked in. Talk to me about it, or don’t. Whatever you need.”

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, your eyes glassy but thankful. “I just really needed this. You.”

His thumb brushed over your cheek, and he smiled softly, his brown eyes warm. “You’ve got me. Always.”

Peter leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, then another to your nose, before finally capturing your lips in a sweet kiss. You melted into him, letting his love wrap around you.

When he pulled back, he studied you for a moment, brushing a strand of damp hair behind your ear. “How about I make us some hot chocolate? We’ll watch something mindless, eat whatever snacks we have, and just shut the world out for a while.”

You let out a breathy laugh, the first real smile of your day tugging at your lips. “That sounds perfect.”

Peter grinned, stealing one more kiss before standing up. “Stay right there. I’ll take care of everything.”

As you curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket that still smelled faintly of him, you realized that even on the worst days, Peter Parker was the kind of husband material that made everything else bearable.

He's your home.

Peter disappeared into the kitchen and a few minutes later, Peter returned, balancing a tray with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate, a plate of cookies, and a bowl of popcorn. He set it down on the coffee table then plopped down beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“Hot chocolate for my lady,” he said, handing you a mug.

You took it with a grateful smile, the warmth of the ceramic seeping into your palms. “You’re too good to me, you know.”

“Not possible,” Peter said, leaning back and stretching his legs out in front of him. “You deserve all of it. Even on your worst days. You take care of me on shitty days, I'd be stupid not to do the same for my girl.”

You nudged him with your elbow, but he just grinned, pulling you closer. “Now, what are we watching? Rom-com? Thriller? Or do we just marathon bad reality tv until we can’t feel feelings anymore?”

You laughed softly. “Watching reality tv sounds like the exact thing I can handle right now.”

“Perfect,” Peter said, grabbing the remote. “I’ve got the trashiest shows lined up just for this kind of emergency.”

As the first episode of some ridiculous dating show began to play, you leaned against Peter, resting your head on his shoulder. He held you close, his hand tracing patterns on your arm as you both sipped your warm drink.

Halfway through the episode, he pressed his lips against your temple again. “Feeling a little better?” he murmured.

You nodded, looking up at him with a small smile. “Yeah. A lot better, actually.”

Peter’s gaze softened, and he reached up to brush a thumb across your cheek. “Good. Because seeing you upset kills me, bug. You don’t have to handle it all on your own, okay? I’m here.”

“I know,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Lucky for you, you’ll never have to find out,” he teased, his lips turning into a playful smile before he kissed you again, this time slower and deeper.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his voice low and full of affection. “I love you.”

You smile softly. “I love you too, Pete. So much.”

He smiled, kissing the tip of your nose. “Good. Now, let's relax and eat way too many cookies.”

You laughed, snuggling closer to him. And as the ridiculous show unfolded, Peter’s sarcastic commentary made you laugh even harder than you thought you would tonight.

No matter how bad the day had started, being with him made everything feel okay in the end.

Always.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

Tags: @princess-lil-spidey @laaundromat @mgchaser @sparklystarsandstrawberries @bethies-world @rnurse-kole @juliebluehufflepuff @chayceschultz @kdelarenta @alexxavicry @gryffindorsblog

If you'd like to be added to my taglist

Much love x

- Maeve

[womanofwords]

Everybody's Favourite (Part 14)

You started spending weekdays over at the Iceberg Lounge, much to the Batfam's chagrin. Each time, your excuse for leaving rubbed them the wrong way.

"Sorry, meeting investors for the Ice Block! One of them's Japanese, so I have to be there to translate!"

"I'm discussing prices for the ice creams with Papa!"

"Uncle Harvey and I are discussing logos and copyright law for the business!"

"That's it. I'm ending this myself," Damian said. "Nobody steals my sibling and gets away with it."

"Damian, do not try to seek Y/N out," Bruce warned, although his heart broke to say such a thing. "It'll just make things worse."

You were making headlines a lot, too, and not only for being Gotham's wounded dove. As it turned out, you were a legend.

Y/N Wayne Throws 5th Birthday Party For Pothole That Is Five Years Old

Y/N Wayne Found Flying Around Gotham On Hoverboard

Y/N Wayne Caught Commanding Birds; Claims Their Papa Taught Them

"Father, Y/N can't actually command birds, can they?" Damian asked.

"I . . . have no idea," Bruce admitted. "I really have no idea."

Tim's sleep schedule got worse with each headline; every time a new one was released, he would stay up all of the next night cyberstalking you. It only made things worse.

Click. There you were, opening the first Ice Block location. Click. You were visiting the zoo with Oswald, feeding the parrots. Click. You were painting your nails black, white, and gold. Cobblepot colours, you called it.

They also noticed your stuff moving out. It was just some trivial trinkets at first, but then it became bigger and more important stuff. Weirdly enough, nobody ever saw anybody move anything. It just . . . vanished.

One day, you moved out for good. You left a letter on your bed (one of the last pieces of big furniture left behind) for Alfred to read.

Dear former family,

For ten years, I have been in this house with you, eating the same foods at the same table, but with a seat far removed from you all. I have tried to invite you into my life, telling you about trivial school matters and asking you your opinions on clothing choices, but to no avail. I watched my father shut me out of his life, only throwing me cold looks like a prison warden throwing scraps of rotten food at a starving prisoner. It hurt so much to watch you shower everyone but me with love and affection, making it clear who your favourites were and weren't.

I had so many questions to ask you, Bruce, questions I have contented myself with being left unanswered. How did you meet my mother? Why didn't you know about me earlier? If my mother hadn't died, would you ever know I existed? Life at Wayne Manor wouldn't have looked any different without me, except Damian wouldn't have had anybody to torment.

Everything changed when I was taken. It was terrifying at first, but I settled into a routine very quickly. Papa noticed my talents and potential very quickly, and my aunts and uncles took a shine to me very quickly. Finally, I knew what parental love felt like, how it felt to be surrounded by people who actually wanted to know you, rather than people who had to put up with you.

But it wouldn't last. Batman had to come in and ruin it on your behalf, suspiciously after the fourteen-day video we'd made. I could only watch in horror as my family were beaten up by him and his Batkids and I was kidnapped again.

When I was returned to Wayne Manor, you acted different. You went from cold to overly affectionate. It unnerved me. Dick called me 'baby bird', Bruce fed me lies about my papa, and Damian brought up the nauseating fact about me being his blood sibling. The last people I wanted to see were too close for comfort, and the people I did want to see were forced away from me. You really pick your moments, don't you?

Being around you long-term is nothing short of bad luck. I go for a walk with Stephanie and I get a drink thrown at my head and my 'sister' using me as a human shield. I go with you to a gala and become acquainted with your horrifying unpopularity. It is embarrassing to be seen with you.

So I'm leaving. I can't be with family members that only try and build a relationship when they fear a loss of status. By the time you read this, I will be legally adopted into the Cobblepot family. (Adult adoption's a thing, you know.) I will be sending you all restraining orders very shortly, except for Alfred. I hold no ill will towards him. However, if he ever tries relaying messages from you to me, I will cut him off without delay. I will also be tipping off Animal Control about Titus, since no normal ten-year-old should be commanding a vicious animal. If the authorities find out about your vigilante lives, then so be it. You are, as of this moment, not my problem.

I do desire that we become better strangers than family.

(Not) yours,

Y/N Cobblepot.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14 <- You are finished

Taglist: @tinybrie, @enchantingarcadecreation, @hopingtoclearmedschool, @sh4rk-k1d, @prorpy, @angelicbear, @sulleha, @sirenetheblogger, @omgfangirlland, @heather-hutchcroft, @wannaflyaway, @jaybunsblog, @sugarrush-blush, @redkarmakai, @asillysimp, @type-ink, @jellyedkazoo, @lonely-nerd-sodaholic

OK, folks, that's it! You're at the end of the line with this fanfic; I have posted the very last part. Thank you for the nourishment (likes and reblogs) and the encouragement (comments)! I will be back soon with a new multi-part story, and I'll let you pick which one comes on first.

[erwinsvow]

i think, in the end, it's the dependability that really does night shift reader in.

it's so easy to fall into the trap of having a crush on your attending, just like in the cheesy medical romance shows that are your secret guilty pleasure. and honestly, jack abbot makes everything seem like a movie. you guess that you don't really, or maybe have never known, what it feels like to be chased. to be pursued.

not that whatever is going on between you and your superior is, in fact, chasing or pursuing. it's more like a dabble into that category, teetering on the edge of a black hole that you have explored from the safety and comfort of your bed more than once. in the early hours of the morning, when the entire world has awoken and there's children getting on busses and cars honking at each other, you shut the window, pull the curtains, and get into bed. you're averaging maybe six, seven hours of sleep since you changed to the night shift.

and it's a pretty good six or seven hours. except for, of course, the first hour of trying to sleep when your body just knows it's broad daylight outside. you are exhausted—nights are not easy for anyone, especially someone as new to it as you are. and the curtains help some, as does the white noise machine and lavender pillow spray that shen recommended. but none of it is really enough.

it must be that last cup of coffee. you can imagine it in front of you if you close your eyes. five am—two hours to go. yawning, but keeping an open ear for any incoming car accidents that are so common around this time. you really do need that last cup, you all do. sometimes you'll see ellis have half an energy drink instead, but the idea of drinking something cold sounds less appealing than just sucking it up and being tired.

and that's when he comes. when you hear the sound of the can being twisted open, when you see shen make a pit-stop to take a sip. when the nurses are finally taking a seat because it's that lull of the hour, the one that makes you even sleepier because for once, there isn't actually something to do right this second. you have a mug, yellow like your water bottle, that has a special spot in the second cabinet, tucked away so no one accidentally uses it.

(not that anyone would, with the way jack glares at someone who even tries to reach for it when the coffee's done brewing. it's a known fact that you think people are being sweet by not using your mug. they let you be oblivious—it's sweet that you even think caffeine-starved nurses and doctors care about your mug at dawn or midday. they care about getting chewed out by the attending, though.)

and so right on the dot, jack appears with a cup of freshly brewed coffee for you. milk, sugar, extra of both. sweet enough that you keep drinking it and are powered up for the remaining two hours, the drive home, breakfast, shower and finally, your bed. he knows your routine, inquired about it through tired conversations in between patients. you know his too, like the fact that he takes breakfast very seriously and thinks it's akin to a crime that you sometimes go to sleep without eating. you crack a harmless joke—well, you'll just have to come over and feed me if you want me to eat.

the way he looks at you tells you that he's not joking.

and so you lay awake in bed, after that shift and every other, thinking about that cup of coffee. it's so reliable. he is so reliable. every day without fail. you never have to remind him. some days he makes it earlier than others—like he could tell that you didn't get as much sleep or if that trauma earlier took it out of you. you don't have to say it. he just knows. some days it's a little late, like if there's a freak car accident and you're all rushed to the ambulance bay and the adrenaline is enough to ride off of for the next hour or so. you've never had to say it. like clockwork, jack is there with your coffee in your mug right at that time when you feel like you need it.

dependable. that's the word hovering in your mind when you can't sleep at nine in the morning. jack abbot is so dependable. he has his own routine—he drinks a cup maybe an hour or two before he makes one for you. and somehow, your cup is always fresh. you think you're going crazy, trying to put the pieces together. comments and jokes from shen and ellis, the nurses talking under their breath. and yet, the ceaseless buzz of the emergency room drones quiet for thirty seconds each dawn, when you see him walking towards you, the colorful mug not looking so out of place anymore in his hands.

he sets it down on the counter. you smile up at him, say your thank you, like every day. he gives you half a smile back, turning back to go check on his patient right away, not lingering, not giving anyone a reason to say anything.

he doesn't have to. they all know it anyways. and slowly but surely, you've figured it out too. the blare of heart monitors and footsteps and so many people talking comes back all at once. you sit down when you can, drink your coffee while you can.

and at seven-fifteen in the morning, you wait for jack by the exit. there's eyes on you, there always is. you ignore it in favor of not wasting another moment, spending another hour lying wide awake in your bed wondering what it would be like to have jack abbot lying there next to you. when he comes out, he smiles at you—a real one, like he's surprised you waited for him, even though you usually wait every day. like he knows today is different.

"can i take you up on that breakfast today?"

[kuntprodukt]

SPIT TO SEE THE SHINE

Vendetta Leon S. Kennedy x reader |18+ MDNI. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, KIDNAPPING, DUB CON, smut, age gap (reader is in 20s, Leon is 37) female reader, abusive relationship, implied alcoholism, stockholm syndrome, creampie, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, use of ‘daddy’ (not a lot), implied erectile disfunction lmao, victim blaming, fingering, implied physical and sexual violence, forced breeding.

Summary: life gets lonelier after 30s, the realization hits harder Leon and the way to cope with it is to get his hands on alcohol… too bad booze tends to encourage him to not be a good man - ending up with a younger girl in his apartment. Maybe it is a grave mistake, but Leon is just a man and who doesn’t make them? notes: uhm, this may be a lil bit self indulgent, sorry for that :3 I DONT CONDONE THIS BEHAVIOR IN REAL LIFE!!! reblogs, asks and any kind of feedback or interaction are really appreciated! :3

tags: @withonly-sweetheart

Mama has told you not to trust strangers, the concern was referred to the men, but your ears have never held her words for a time longer than a day. Nor did you remember her words when an attractive, older man noticed you and was nice enough to ask you out. That night was supposed to be a little date, giddy and happy jumping into the front seat of his car. That’s the last thing you remember. Eventually, you can not fathom how this happened - the day later your head hurt as you were forced to swallow the hard pill: you got kidnapped by your date.

The first month was insufferable and painful, slowly growing out of your ‘rebellious attitude’ and memorizing his body language like a child in an abusive household. His gaze is everywhere, keeping you locked up in the room when he is not present, a reminder to you that there is no free choice. The food, clothes, and your free time were defined by Leon’s mood and taste which… Liked to swing, creating a mess for you both, not knowing if he was genuinely ashamed of what he had done. You hated him, dreaming about the day when his throat would be sliced, painting your hands with red just to breathe in the air of freedom.

Mama knows best. No, Leon knows best.

Sometimes Leon is mean, without hesitation, sharp words can be thrown at you when he is drunk. Blaming his misery on you. Trying not to be affected by them, not enough to avoid some of them as they cling to your mind - circling as a reminder.

“You deserve this, what did you think a man would want from a woman?”,

“you are better dead”,

“you asked for this”. Did you actually?

Sometimes he is the nicest guy around here. Showering you with tenderness and care, trying to have a normal conversation, but not daring to look into your eyes. Ashamed probably, which was bittersweet and pleasant, but confusing too. Like a couple. You promised yourself to not change the way you feel about him, even if he is sweet. Not like you have a lot of options now.

Certainly, Stockholm syndrome wasn’t going to avoid you, it didn’t take long either. You aren’t special and Leon looked so lonely, returning after work mostly devastated. The expression someone would have had while grieving over something not obtainable. Not even daring to look into your face, ignoring you until his hands do not reach the booze - drinking himself until his mood changes to a handsy one. Physical or sexual. Sometimes both. And Leon is lonely, he told it himself once. Naturally or not, anger has changed to pity, while hate is mixed with something affectionate towards him. You can’t help yourself.

As someone has said - from love to hatred is one step.

So the routine has become clear after a month of staying here, sitting on the floor and watching TV while Leon is behind you. Big brother is watching you - no, Leon is watching you. Drunk or not, monitoring whatever is on the screen is appropriate in his eyes. Not for too long you were concentrating on the blue gleam coming from the screen, illuminating both frames in the living room, now like a natural thing for you both - his fingers end up in your panties to rub your clit in slow and lazy circles. His chest is pressing against your back, focused on your expressions and squirming. His calloused fingertips press harder against your sensitive clit, to hear your voice. Your body is the biggest enemy here - like a Pavlovian dog, reacting to his touch quickly and eagerly. The skin of his fingers is wet and soaked with your slick already, in no time, filling the room with squelching and wet sounds as your moans become harder to keep to yourself. Writhing and trying to shift away, but your body tends to become immobile most of the time - there is no fight or flight, just freeze.

“You look so miserable. It is reassuring, so cute too” In misery, together. His tone is the one someone would use for a dog. Always using that one with you, but you are not a dog. Not like you have any other choices right now, other than taking like a good girl and not lamenting.

If someone would have asked you, Leon is shameless with you, not the one to be shy after a bottle of whiskey, even if he can’t get it up sometimes. His fingers nudge your soaked hole, which aches for his attention. It clenches around nothing, pathetically and you disappointedly whine at the emptiness inside you.

“Come on, open your legs, be a nice girl for Daddy” Leon cooed. His lips brush over your ear, not giving you a chance to do this by yourself - forcing your legs roughly to part wider. “So much better now”

Your hips shift, arching your back as his two fingers intrude into your pussy, curling sweetly inside it to push them at your favorite sweet spot - to enforce more moans at every jolt of pleasure hitting your body. Leon likes that, watching you squirm and open your mouth like a fish desperate for air cause of him. His grip on your jaw is tight, painful even - there are going to be bruises tomorrow and he will be apologizing like a madman.

“Daddy has been so miserable these days too, fucking Redfield is always hassling me.” You don’t know who is that. The sound of his hand fumbling with his belt and the fly of his jeans reach your ears, a loud noise of them falling on the floor. “Can’t even have a vacation, what would you do without me, baby?”

“Ughh…!” you choke on your moans. There is no thought behind your eyes, your entire attention is on your pleasure. Feeling overwhelmed at every thrust of his fingers, writhing in his hold while he is roughly pumping into your drenched hole, an uncomfortable wetness clings to your inner thighs - begging to fuck you already.

“Fuck, I am so sorry, sweetheart, but you are so wet. I can’t. Just the tip, okay? Sorry,” he groans breathlessly, giving hot and quick kisses on the side of your head. Sweet touch. His gaze darkens and his body presses harder against yours, feeling his erection press against your ass. “just… this hole is dripping, and you don’t look like you don’t want it”

You are so close actually, every thrust hitting your sweet spot, curling, and keeping the quick pace of his fingers make you almost drool while focusing on approaching orgasm. Too bad that isn’t on his to-do list. As much as he wants to see you cum, on his fingers or not, - his own pleasure is much more important, especially when his dick is hard. Whiskey dick isn’t so easy to get up these days. His fingers roughly withdraw from your soaked hole with a squelching pop, denying your orgasm. The emptiness returns and your sensitive pussy clenched around nothing again - aching to be filled again.

“So messy,” Leon mutters out, shoving his index and middle fingers in your mouth - forcing you to clean them, your tongue rolls and wraps around them, tasting yourself before he finally pulls them away. “asking for bad things to happen”

You can swear to God this made your clit throb. Wetter than you can ever be, or you are hallucinating, hoping this isn’t the case. Thoughts are quickly brushed aside when his cock is pressed in between your pussy lips, bumping against your aching clit while he rubs himself against your soaked and needy cunt that coats his flesh in your slick, lubing his length in it before he pushed his cock into you - Leon is not really a patient man. Yeah, just the tip, of course. Your velvety walls easily swallow his cock, stretching inch by inch with pleasant pain and letting it slide as he pushed in quick motion until his cock got buried deep inside you. Balls pressed against your flesh, while you can’t help but tightly clench around him, his chest is pressed against your back. Relishing how tight and warm is your pussy, the best and most calming feeling for Leon - to fill you with his cock for his own pleasure. Your hair gets tugged roughly, making your head roll back while Leon starts moving slowly. His cock drags against your walls, pulling out until only a tip remains inside.

“See? Only a tip” Leon mocks you, before slamming back in, bottoming out in one thrust. You whimper and squirm, but his hold on your hair is hard - the only way to keep you under his control. His hips start pounding into you, falling deep into the pleasure connecting your bodies. “Your pussy just feels so good, weren’t you made for this, mmm?”

His movements stutter as his pace slowens when his blue eyes make eye contact with the TV. You didn’t really catch on what was happening until his hand tugged your hair, directing your half-lidded gaze to the point of his interest. The sight of your image on the news, big words on the red background: MISSING PERSON. The former shelf of yourself is staring at you both, smiling brightly - not knowing there is no future for you. The volume is turned off. In this household, it is common knowledge that Leon doesn’t let you watch the news, every time getting agitated and avoiding you even more, when sober, which doesn’t last long after that. The mood swing was quick, every time it was like a loud thunderstorm, his hips make another thrust - cock hits your cervix and forces out a loud moan, involuntarily, when Leon’s cockhead grinds against it.

“This is bullshit, you know?” He hisses into your ear, giving another rough thrust to make you gasp pathetically, as he presses your head against the TV screen. “no one is coming for you. Why? Cause you are forgettable, baby, no one needs you”

“S-stop, Leon” you mumble in between moans and trying to keep yourself aware of what is happening. “T-too much, p-please!”

Your body feels like it is on fire due to the mix of emotions he provokes, your cunt grips his cock tightly while aching for your denied orgasm from before. His hand gives a hard slap on your sensitive clit, making you arch and flinch. Your pussy flutters, gripping him tighter.

“Shhh, I am doing a favor here” he mutters, yanking your head back, forcing you to look at the news while his pounding grew more erratic, intensifying wet and flesh-hitting sounds. His voice is loud in your ears, muffling other sounds, overwhelming as his cock keeps making rough thrusts into you with every word - to punctuate them. “Keeping you here, taking care of useless you that can’t do anything right”

He buries himself deep again, pausing again to relish in the feeling of his cock filling you, while your wet walls engulf him nicely - like a drug, inviting him to stay there and never pull away. Slick drips down your thighs, and his nose brushes behind your ear before nibbling on the soft cartilage. His hand gives another light slap on your pussy, the tightness of your walls almost makes him cum.

“Maybe a baby, what do you think about it, mm?” The idea makes him throb, sliding in and out more erratically. As if he cares about your opinion right now, his fingers tug your hair harder, but his words make you flinch harder. Tears prick behind your eyelids.

“No-no-no. You can’t cum inside, no!” He is not wearing a condom. Bad, too bad. Begging comes out naturally for you now, in between your moans. Fear coats your voice, as the idea sets in quickly - being trapped here cause of an unfortunate kid. “Not the baby! Leon, please! I’ll be good, please!”

“Of course, I can. Shut up. You like this” Leon hisses, keeping your head in a firm hold, so your eyes are set on the old photo. It doesn’t feel right, but you can’t stop yourself from making noises, shifting so Leon would hit a better angle. This somewhat combines with a shame, at every hint of it your mind shoves it away. “You can’t look at yourself, too bad. Dripping even more after my words, like a whore.“

Wanting to cum, focusing more on the pleasure of his dick filling your hole - feels so wrong, but good. Like your body shouldn’t enjoy how Leon’s hips keep pounding into your soaked cunt, hitting the pudgy spot and making you repeat his name like a prayer, but your own mind and body are the biggest enemy, betraying you. His own balls tighten, as a reminder of his so soon approaching orgasm.

“You love me right, baby?” Leon whispers, voice coming out breathy and brushing against your ear shell. His calloused fingers crawl back to your clit, flicking and rubbing it roughly and unsteadily. Trying to keep the feeling of that warm tightness sucking in his cock.

“I love you, Leon, o-oh!” you hum, nibbling on the lower lip and arching, letting more noises when his dick hits your sweet spot so sloppily and messy now, chasing his orgasm. And him circling your clit with his calloused fingertips makes your legs tremble - so close to tripping and falling flat on the floor. This makes your mind fuzzy, shoving away the fear of being pregnant. Leon is nice, right? Nice enough to push you against the cold screen of the TV, it doesn’t have its use anymore. That photo faded with the news, after all. “I love you, love you,”

Your voice comes out shaky and high-pitched now. His eyes are set on your disheveled look, with light traces of tears as you repeat the confession erratically, filling his mind with them. Making this normal, you love him, so he can allow himself to not feel so guilty, right? With a final and rough thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, giving chaste and soft kisses to the back of your head. Your body shudders eventually too, your walls spasm harder around him as the hard feeling of orgasm hits you, pleasant shockwaves dumb every bad thought in the head. His cock throbbed, letting a loud groan and finally spurting ropes of cum into you while keeping messy circles on your sensitive clit, prolonging your orgasm and making you more overwhelmed with every flick. The warm essence fills your hole, Leon pulls out his softening cock with a wet pop, watching how his sperm slowly oozes out from your pussy. His mind is light, the hint of booze keeps guilt from emerging.

Words of love don’t feel like a complete lie now, as pleasant memories overwhelm the bad ones. They become almost an empty spot in the back of your mind, leaving only a foggy feeling of hate and dread. And your brain is weak for the bliss, hammering every moment deep in you - craving for more. Hate won’t bring you out of this, maybe affection will. Your hand grips weakly his wrist, you won’t be able to bear the loneliness after sex tonight.

“Don’t leave me” Your mouth is quicker than your mind, not processing anything right now. Leon breaks out in a weak smile, but his gaze isn’t capable of keeping eye contact right now. Still, he scoops you in his arms without a second thought. Remaining silent, feeling your weak body in his hold he can’t help but pepper chaste kisses on your forehead. Trying to prolong the sweet and guiltless moment for you both.

You should have known better than to accept that date with him.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

It’s so sad how mullet Stan lacks content of him 😭😭I wish there would be more fics of him so that’s why im gently asking you to give us more mullet Stan crumbs, it can be anything, headcanons or fic 😔 I will eat everything you’ll serve

⤿❝ Mullet!Stanley x reader headcanons (sfw & nsfw)⭑

a/n: agree i agree just yeah 10000% ! traumatised guys with mullet, bad habits and abandonment, daddy and mental issues are my weak spot

sfw

ᯓ★ he’s terrified of commitment but more terrified of being alone. he’ll push you away just to see if you’ll stay. he wants to trust you, but he doesn’t trust himself

ᯓ★ when he finally realizes you’re not leaving, he clings hard. like, once he’s in? he’s all in. but the idea of starting a family? he wants it so bad but so scared of it. he doesn’t want to turn into his father. he’s aware of his emotional instability and the last thing he wants is to pass that onto a kid. he doesn’t even trust himself to be a good partner, let alone a parent

ᯓ★ despite everything, still has a soft spot for kids but refuses to admit it. will grumble and complain but the second a little kid looks up at him with big, teary eyes, he’s sighing and handing over the last piece of his candy bar

ᯓ★ he is a literal stray, a stray dog that growls when you first bring him home but now follows you everywhere. you don’t date mullet!Stanley, you accidentally adopt him. this man has no home, no direction, no plan. he crashes on your couch “just for a few days, toots, promise” and then six months later he’s still there, wearing your robe, drinking straight from the juice carton

ᯓ★ acts like he doesn’t care but is secretly the most doting boyfriend. will fix your car, carry your groceries, give you his jacket when you're cold, all without asking. he just does it

ᯓ★ he doesn’t take care of himself. showers once every few days, drinks too much, smokes too much, eats like shit. if you ever cook for him it breaks him, he just stares at the plate because it’s the kindest thing anyone’s ever done to him, “you made this? for me?”

ᯓ★ road trip king. you wanna run away? hop in, sweetheart, we’ll figure it out on the way. the kind of guy who drives with one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh. he’s got half a pack of smokes, a cassette of shitty rock ballads and a mouth full of sweet-talking bullshit

ᯓ★ as i said, he acts like he doesn’t give a fuck but actually gives too many fucks. will pretend he doesn’t care when you get mad at him, but the second you turn away, he’s overthinking. “fuck what did i say? shit, why am i such an asshole?”

ᯓ★ if you tell him you love him, he always hesitates before saying it back. not because he doesn’t feel it, but because he doesn’t think he deserves it

ᯓ★ literally stunned when you take care of him. like, someone is doing something NICE for him??? with no ulterior motive???

ᯓ★ absolutely a ‘leaning’ boyfriend. leans against walls, leans against doorframes, leans against you. big strong arms wrapping around your waist from behind, head dropping onto your shoulder with a sigh

ᯓ★ survives off diner food, gas station snacks, and whatever you make him

ᯓ★ gets nervous when you’re nice to him. he’s been kicked down so many times, he doesn’t know how to handle kindness. the first time you tell him he looks good, he scoffs, says something self-deprecating, but then stares at himself in the mirror later, touching his face trying to see what you even saw in him

ᯓ★ secretly loves being babied. if you push his messy hair back, clean his cuts when he gets into a fight or tuck yourself into his side when he's sitting down, he fucking melts. “psh, ya don’t gotta do all that,” but his ears are bright red

ᯓ★ will steal anything for you. “ya like that necklace, sweetheart? consider it yours.” he’s a walking, talking, petty thief boyfriend who just wants to see you smile

ᯓ★ lets you play with his mullet when he’s feeling lazy. sits between your thighs while you brush it and if you’re gentle enough, he’ll doze off right there, resting his head against your stomach

ᯓ★ loves his car more than he should. will drag you to the garage to show you how he’s fixing up some old junker, but he looks so proud, you can’t even complain. bonus: he makes you sit in it for a “test drive” (he drives too fast just to see you scream and laugh)

ᯓ★ hands always busy. even when you’re just sitting together, his hands are moving, tinkering with something, rubbing circles on your thigh, tapping on table. he's anxious stressed guy

ᯓ★ he falls asleep anywhere instantly. he’s had years of shitty, uncomfortable sleep, so at this point he can knock out in two seconds flat. the first time you see it happen, you’re stunned. “Stan, are you seriously asleep right now—?” he is. sometimes, he falls asleep sitting up, mouth slightly open, arms crossed. if you try to move him, he’ll grunt, shift slightly and keep sleeping

ᯓ★ he’s a sucker for physical affection but doesn’t know how to ask for it. please, just hold him. run your fingers through his hair, rub his back, let him rest his head on your chest or stomach. sometimes, he’ll just stand behind you and wait until you notice and pull him into a hug. he won’t ask, but he needs it

ᯓ★ this man does not know how to handle being desired

nsfw

ᯓ★ he’s big. everywhere. broad chest, thick arms, a cock that barely fits. “c’mon, baby, you can take it. just a little more, there we go.”

ᯓ★ he’s a messy kisser. tongue, teeth, biting, groaning, he devours you. Stanley makes out like he’s trying to fuck you with just his mouth. his hands are always gripping your face, your neck, your hair, he’s desperate

ᯓ★ he loves fucking in places he shouldn’t. against the car, in an alley, in the backseat, behind a bar, on some random motel dresser, doesn’t matter. the risk of getting caught gets him off. zero patience. too horny to wait, too desperate to care where you are

ᯓ★ if you ever scratch his back? he fucking loses it. he wants you clawing at him, gripping his arms, pulling his hair. especially loves it when you bite his shoulder

ᯓ★ fucks like a guy who doesn’t know if he’ll ever get the chance again. so overwhelmed by how good you feel

ᯓ★ he groans and grunts. loud, unashamed. you know exactly how much he’s enjoying it because he never shuts the fuck up. if you try to shut him up, he just moans louder out of spite

ᯓ★ this man talks during sex. a LOT. filthy, filthy, filthy mouth

ᯓ★ but if you try to stifle your moans, oh, he won’t have that. “uh-uh, lemme hear ya, baby. don’t go all shy on me now.”

ᯓ★ he has an oral fixation, always has something in his mouth. a cigarette, a toothpick, his own damn fingers. pussy? oh, he’ll eat for hours if you let him. he’s enjoying it more than you are. his nose is pressed right against your clit, his tongue is buried deep inside you, his big hands are holding your thighs open so you can’t squirm away

ᯓ★ but what he REALLY loves? your fingers. if you put your fingers in his mouth, he’ll groan and suck on them absentmindedly. don't try to pull away, you’re not going anywhere. he’ll grab your wrist, keep your fingers between his lips and just look at you with those dark, needy eyes

ᯓ★ loves when you pull his hair so make sure to always grab and yank his mullet while he’s between your legs and he’ll groan into your pussy like he’s getting off on it

ᯓ★ the kind of man who will fuck you dumb just to make sure you don’t even remember anyone else’s name

ᯓ★ absolute menace with that tongue + so so messy. will spread your legs, settle between them and go to fucking work. licking, sucking, slurping, spitting on your clit, growling against your folds. doesn’t stop until you’re begging. “c’mon, sweetie, one more for me”

ᯓ★ absolutely gets off on how loud you are. doesn’t matter if it’s the middle of the night or the middle of the day, he’ll fuck you so good you’re screaming his name, he prefers it “Stanley” tho, not just Stan

ᯓ★ smokes like a chimney, including during sex. he’s the type to take a long drag of his cigarette while you’re riding him, exhaling the smoke lazily as he watches you bounce on his cock. “fuck, baby, keep goin’. look so pretty takin’ me like that.” then puts it out against the nightstand right before flipping you over and fucking you senseless

ᯓ★ smoking during foreplay too, pulls cigarette out of his mouth and presses it into the ashtray, muttering, “gonna put this out and focus on you, sweetie.”

ᯓ★ if you complain about him smoking too much, he’ll smirk, tilt your chin up, and say something like, “well, maybe if you keep me busy enough, i won’t need to smoke, huh?” such a brat tbh

ᯓ★ grabs whatever’s closest to tie you up. belt? works just fine. an old rag? perfect. (also wants to be tied up too)

ᯓ★ a tipsy Stan gets handsy, real handsy. he’s already got no shame sober, but when he’s had a couple of drinks, he can’t keep his hands to himself, your thighs, your waist, your ass

ᯓ★ praise him in the most filthiest way possible, call him big, tell him he’s stretching you out, tell him you’ve never had anyone fuck you like this. tell him how much you love his cock, how deep he is. he thrives on that shit, loves being told how good he feels. “fuck, baby, keep talkin’ like that and i might not last.” but he also LOVES teasing you. “poor thing, already dumb from my cock?”, “look at you, makin’ a mess all over me. filthy little thing.”

ᯓ★ i 100% believe that mullet!Stanley is a bratty switch who acts tough but turns into a desperate, whiny mess the second you take control. i think it needs its own post but ok

[berrieluv]

<3; aaron johnson x reader (i think i didn't use pronouns but it's mention that the reader has a vagina) summary: you know damn well, you horny friends. kiki says: this fits contains unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), cheating kink, the feel of guilt that it's never enough to make him stop, i think this smut it's very light, just trying to keep you fed while i work in the angst. also english isn't my first language so i apologize for the bad writing.

me and your husband.

For the public, having you involved in the movie Kraven with Aaron after Bullet Train was just a normal occurrence, two actors working together more than once, nothing that hasn't happen before and nothing that won't happen again.

For Aaron, it was just his masterplan working. He craved you near him, he needed you there. He couldn't function properly anymore without you, without your body and the way your legs wrap around his neck.

His blue eyes are long gone by now, so full with lust he can not think of anything else. He already made you cum three times before you had to take a shower and attend a date, and now here you are again, seizing the day like you started it, with his tongue inside your wet cunt.

He kisses your thigh softly, his hand behind your knee, his mouth marking every inch of your skin with kisses, smelling your dripping pussy and looking amused at the wet spot on the beige sheets.

"You bought them for me?" He moans, looking at your lingerie next to him, the one he just took off the moment you walked back from dinner, his face buried between your thighs, you didn't. You bought them because they were pretty and expensive, and you could afford them "You look so pretty" He says.

His wife is sleeping in the next room, if you get close enough to the wall you could hear her sleep, which was weird, an expensive five stars hotel with thin walls, you must think they would be soundproof for the price. Or maybe it was your guilt, your senses sharpened in shame, making sure you never forget he's a married man.

But maybe you weren't better than that, but why should you. He wanted you, he needed you and loved you even more than you found him attractive, which was to say much.

"Fuck..." You moan when Aaron's tongue was inside your pussy. His hand grabbing your underwear and placing it on your thigh again, grabbing your skin and the lingerie along, the other hand over your belly, keeping you grounded.

Aaron licks the sides of your pussy, his tongue gently going through your folds, he teases your sensitive parts, hitting the right places, he knows how to use his tongue, and it feels like it has been wasted all this time.

Your moans grew louder when two of his fingers are inside you without any previous notice, moving them in and out, his tongue sucking on your clit and you feel yourself getting lost in pleasure.

"Is this good?" He asks out of breath, a big smile plastered across his face, almost like he thought he didn't need anything else but the sweet scent of your dripping cunt.

Was it good? It was fantastic.

"Hold for me, princess?" He asks softly, your legs curled up while your hands keep them up grabbing behind your knees.

He touches your ass, his hand traveling all over every part of your body, his lips are all over your sweet wet cunt, eating like a starving man, making sure every single drop of your wetness goes into his mouth.

"I need you..." He moans against your folds "Fuck, I need you so much"

Aaron takes all of your release, drinking it all, when he looks up his chin is all wet and a spark of proudness in his eyes.

He doesn't even look this proud when he's on a press conference.

"Keep holding your legs" He orders, taking off his jeans and boxers "Good girl" He praises with a smile when he walks back to bed.

You remind silence most of the times, your words consumed by your moans and whimpers, you want him so badly.

"Please..." You finally find the way to speak, your breath heavy and your heart beating faster than it should when he starts thrusting into you. His right hand holding himself on the mattress to not lay all of his weight on you.

His left hand massaging your breasts, treating it like it was a stress ball.

"Shit, princess" He moans, his eyes closing even if he tries to fight it, he loves watching you. He loves the look in your eyes and how they roll, going all blank when he starts thrusting faster.

"Oh!" You moan, and he smirks like a bastard, enjoying knowing he's the one making you feel like this "Oh, God! Fuck, fuck, fuck!" You cry, almost chocking in your own pleasure.

"Sh, sh..." He coos "Baby, you're chocking, princess" He chuckles, enjoying your desperation "I'm not even near your throat"

He caresses your cheek with a soft smile, moving slowly down to your throat, applying just the right pressure to make you gasp for air, shutting your moans.

"Don't be so loud..." He demands, it was meant to be teasing, but his voice sounds dominant, his expression is serious and his eyes darkened with lust and need of control "You know Sam is in the next room"

Sam, he doesn't refer as my wife anymore. She stopped being my wife a few months ago, just a few weeks after you became my everything. The air he breathed, not only his wants but his needs.

You feel a warm sensation running through your insides, a loud groan when he lets it out, his cum painting your cunt and dripping down your skin.

"God, I love my little masterpiece" He chuckles, watching your thighs covered by his cunt. "You're tired?"

He asks softly and you nod, his phone starts ringing at the same time you hear his wife walking around their hotel room, you wonder if he hears her.

"Your phone..." You say with your eyes closed when he ignores it and walks to the bathroom.

"Can wait" He says without hesitation.

"What if it's your wife?" You know is her.

"She can wait" Aaron says, it's almost like he doesn't care and a part of you knows he doesn't. "I'll clean you up first, super star"

[nishirikiluv]

Twisted Love

Facing Reality

pairings: yandere!jay x reader

chapter warnings: fear, drugging, kidnapping, threatening, restraints, noncon, choking, slapping, oral (f recieving), fingering, protected sex, multiple orgasms, Jay gets kinda mean at one point, please lmk if I've missed anything (also not proofread so.. if theres mistakes, look past it...)

a/n: took me long enough to post chapter 2... i don't know when i'll post chapter 3 but i'll try not to take as long as i did with this one

taglist: @bbyinthehouse

masterlist | previous | chapter 2 | next

It had been about 2 weeks since you had that first awful dream about Jay. It would've been fine if it was a one time thing. But it wasn't. Every night you'd have the same dream. The details were a little different each time, but for the most part it was the same. It didn't make sense that they were dreams when they felt so real. Luckily, Jay seemed much different at work recently.

He joined your group's project at like he'd told you before, but he was acting so normal? He was the same man that chased you into the elevator, right? Regardless, it's relieving that he hadn't been acting that way anymore. Every interaction was strictly professional and work related, which relieved all the prior tension you had about the whole idea of having him in your group.

It was the end of the final meeting your group had for this project. One of the girls suggested you all go out for dinner together to celebrate. Everyone seemed excited so you felt awkward to decline going with them. Jay had a blank look on his face but still agreed to going. Something felt off, he usually wasn't very expressive but right now it felt different. You brushed it off deciding not to dwell on it too much.

Somehow you ended up in Jay's car on the way to the restaurant. The silence was deafening. You tried to get into someone else's car, or even just uber or walk but he insisted he drive you. He cleared his throat suddenly, making you jump in your seat. "We're here."

The two of you walked into the restaurant together, the rest of your co-workers waved you over. The dinner was nice, it felt relieving to just laugh and eat and drink with people.

Towards the end of the night you excused yourself to take a phone call, Jay's eyes couldn't seem to leave your figure as you walked away.

You finished the call shortly, only to be met by Jay right when you turned around. You were startled when he walked closer to you, backing you against a wall. Feels familiar. "Who was that?" The tone in his voice sent chills down your spine. "I-It was my broth-" He cut you off, not bothering to listen to your reply. He grabbed your face, his hand maneuvering your head, as if inspecting you. "You look like you haven't been sleeping well... is something... bothering you?" Obviously you weren't going to tell him about the dreams. You were so busy trying to think of an excuse that you missed the dark look in his eye. "No I just... stayed up late, working..."

He released his grip on your face, patting your shoulder. "You should be catching up on sleep then since today was our final day working on the project." I nodded in agreement. "Yeah... hopefully I can." He hummed in reply, his hand moving down to gently rub your arm. "Will you need a ride home today?" You had a bad feeling about the way he asked, instantly declining. "No!" You yelled without thinking, making him raise a brow. "No.. sorry, I just- I live close so... it's not necessary." He chuckled at the panic in your voice, "If you say so..."

You arrived home, tossing your purse aside, along with your shoes and coat. You decided a shower was necessary so you gathered your things and headed to the bathroom. For some reason you felt the need to lock the door behind you, even though you live alone.

You stepped into the shower and instantly the warm water relaxed you, easing all the strain in your body.

A sudden thud outside the bathroom door broke you from your calmness. You shut off the water, quickly hopping out of the shower and dressing yourself. You heard the thud again, your hand hovering shakily over the doorknob. Did you really want to go see who or what that was? No. But you had to since it is your apartment. You unlocked the door only to find no one there. You checked every inch of your apartment finding nothing.

You plopped down on your bed with a sigh, holding your head in your hands. Is this was going insane felt like?

A clinking sound came from the kitchen right as you were about to lay down. "Didn't I just check in there..." you mumbled to yourself, getting up and slowly walking back over. Your eyes landed on a glass of water sitting on the counter. That wasn't there before. You walked up to it, lifting and inspecting the glass.

An arm wrapped around your waist, a knife coming up to your throat. You felt your blood run cold when a voice spoke. "Drink it." You trembled in his hold, "I-I don't want to..." He pressed the knife against your neck, the sharp end digging in slightly. Your soft whimper of pain made him sigh. The cut was only deep enough to draw a bit of blood. His intentions were to scare you, not kill you. "I wasn't asking. Drink it." The sharp pain left you in panic and you quickly picked up the glass with shaky hands, gulping it down as fast as you could. After a few seconds he felt your body go limp in his hold.

Your eyes fluttered open and you found yourself in an unfamiliar place. It wasn't the usual dark room with white walls, you were sat in a bed with dim lights illuminating the room. Your arms were tied above your head to the bedframe by red ribbons. This dream is weirder than usual.

You watch the doorknob turn, revealing Jay. "My love, you're awake." He sit's on the edge of the bed next to you, caressing your cheek. He brushes his thumb over your bottom lip as he admires the sight of you. "You look so beautiful like this... tied up... in my bed. Do you like the pretty ribbons I used? I thought they'd look great on you." He traced his fingers over the ribbons tied to your wrists.

"When is this going to stop..." You were saying it more to yourself rather than to him. His face twisted into a sinister smile. "When is what going to stop?" You shifted uncomfortably, refusing to make eye contact with him. "These weird dreams..." His loud laugh echoed in the small room, causing you to jump slightly. "My love, this isn't a dream. How cute of you. It never has been."

"What...? Yes it was... I woke up in my room every time... and went to work..." He ran his hand down your body, letting it rest on your thigh. "That was a gift from me. I was being considerate. I knew how important that project was to you so I let you finish it, love. Now that it's over though, I get to have you."

"Y-You can't be serious-"

"I'm very serious. I would never joke around when it comes to you." He ran his hand up your thigh and it was just then that you noticed. He changed your outfit. Instead of your pajamas he dressed you in a short, all white, babydoll dress. Your eyes began to water and he could tell that if you blinked, tears would fall.

He cooed softly at your frightened state, petting your hair softly. "Don't cry, you can't be sad because you were made for me. I'm supposed to have you." He sounded so deranged, stating it so matter of factly as if that was supposed to ease your anxiousness.

Jay climbed over you, wrapping his hand around your neck and smashing his lips against yours. He squeezed your neck, causing you to gasp so that he could slide his tongue past your lips to taste every inch of your mouth. You made no effort to kiss him back, letting a few small tears slip down your cheeks. He wasn't happy with your non compliance. He pulled away to harshly slap you across the cheek, grabbing back onto your neck after. "Kiss me back before we have a fucking problem, love."

The look on his face was horrifying, it completely distraced you from the sharp sting in your cheek. He forced his lips on yours again and you, of course, kissed him back, fearful of what he might do if you didn't.

He pushed the dress up your thighs so he could squeeze the soft flesh. He parted his lips from yours, a string of saliva connecting your mouths. He burried his face in your neck, deeply inhaling your scent. Jay slid his hands up your body, stopping along the way to squeeze your breasts over the fabric of the dress. You gasped softly when he pulled at the ribbon at the top of the dress, making it come undone so that your cleavage was exposed to him. "Fuck, baby, I've waited so long to have you like this."

All the alarms in your head rung in panic. Your body was still weak from whatever he put in your water earlier but you used the strength you had left to try and kick him away, desperately tugging at the ribbons that kept you tied to the headboard. Jay pinned your legs down with his hands, his fingers digging into your thighs. "Relax. If you don't stop struggling I'll have to hurt you. You don't want that do you?"

You quickly shook your head, a soft sob falling past your lips. He smirked at the sight, letting go of your legs to hike the dress up more. "Good girl." He pulled the top of the dress down under your tits, groaning at the sight of your body. His lips latched onto your nipple, his hand pinching and teasing the other before switching sides to give each one the same treatment. You whined, small tears dripping down your cheeks while you squirmed beneath his touches.

Jay pulled away from your nipple with a 'pop' latching his mouth back onto yours. "Your mouth tastes so good, I can't wait to see how good you taste here..." His finger slid underneath the thin fabric of your lace panties, pushing it to the side. He crawled down between your legs, ignoring your cries and pleas for him to stop.

You were embarassingly wet for someone who didn't want this. He couldn't help but smirk at the sight. "Look's like you want this as much as i do." You rapidly shook your head but nothing was going to stop him now.

He immediately pressed his tongue flat against your cunt, licking in between your folds. He moaned at the taste of you, the vibration sending a jolt through your body. Your whines only encouraged him to keep going. Jay latched his mouth onto your clit, sucking hard while he slipped his index finger into you making you gasp out. He lifted his head, groaning when he felt you clench around his finger. "You're so tight Y/n... can't wait to feel you around my dick"

"No no no no- Jay p-please don't!" He clicked his tongue. "You're saying no..." he slid in a second finger, "but you're gushing around my fingers right now..." you cried out, your head falling back. Jay chuckled leaning his head back in between your legs. "Wanna see you come, baby. Go on, don't be shy."

You gasped and writhed, trying so hard to hold back your orgasm. You didn't want to give him the satisfaction of making you come, you also felt appauled by the fact that your body was so turned on right now. He curled his fingers inside you, hitting the spot that had you squealing and your toes curling. "F-Fuck.." He doubled his efforts, fucking his fingers faster and harder into you. He was so desperate to see you fall apart to his hands. He began sucking on your clit again, making your legs tremble and forming the knot in your stomach. No matter how hard you tried you couldn't have held back this orgasm. You came with a cry, your body shaking while a layer of sweat coated your skin.

The sight of your high was intoxicating to him. He wished he could have it on video to watch at every hour of the day. The way your eyes squeezed shut, your mouth hung open, your chest heaving with every little gasp and moan. He swore he could've come at just the sight alone.

He continued sucking and licking at your folds, making you whimper from overstimulation. When he pulled away you could see the remanings of your arousal on his lips and chin and you felt ashamed of yourself. He, however, was very pleased.

He wasted no time, unbuckling his belt and yanking his pants and boxers down, tossing everything on the floor. He made sure to slip on a condom and before you could fully catch your breath, or even register what he was doing, he plunged his length into you, splitting you in half. A pained moan left your lips as he thrusted relentlessly into you. He pulled your legs over his shoulders to get a better angle.

He could tell you were in pain so he rubbed your swollen clit, quickly turning all that pain into pleasure. You began to wet around him embarassingly fast. "You're disgusting, getting off on being used by the man that kidnapped you." His words ripped a sob from you. The sight of your tears made him groan and twitch inside of you. He picked up the pace, slamming into you so hard that your body moved up on the bed with each thrust.

The room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping, bed creaking, and the wet noises coming from your arousal. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a messy kiss, swallowing all your cries and moans. His lips trailed down to your neck, sucking and biting at your sensitive skin. His fingers tangled into your hair, pulling your head back to give him better access. Jay lifted his head to watch the way your tits bounced as he slammes into you. He moaned at the view, cursing under his breath. He was close. But he didn't want to come yet.

He started to pinch and roll your clit in his fingers, wanting you to come again before he did. The sounds you made brought him so close to the edge and it took everything in him to hold back. He felt you clench around him and he used all his force to slam into just the right spot. "Come. Come on my dick." Your soft pants and gasps quickened as your orgasm approached quickly. Your orgasm ripped through you with an intensity that had your body going limp. Weak cries left your lips as your body convulsed from the white hot pleasure.

He thrusted harshly into your limp body, coming shortly after with your name on his lips. He continued moving inside you until he physically couldn't take it anymore, slipping his softened dick out and laying on his side next to you.

He admired your weak form, the way you'd already knocked out. He caressed your cheek softly, a contrast to his dark and possesive gaze. He pressed a kiss to your lips.

"Sleep well, my love. Tomorrow, all you're going to see is red."

[twistedpink]

Rook Hunt x Shapeshifter!Reader

The hardest thing you’ve ever done in your long, long life is climb the corporate ladder. The idol one, to be precise. Humans just can’t be pleased! It’s proven! With all your visual tweaks, and genre changes, and half-assed performances (that was later - your first couple debuts were flawless), you’re done. Officially, depressingly, quitting. The only thing to do with all the names and character ideas in the back of your head is retire, and focus on the “natural” path. Eating the people you wanted to have love you. In a way, it’s not all that different..

You’ll almost miss the limelight- Certainly not the stalkers and spandex, but definitely the attention. The best place in the modern world to avoid your past identities, believe it or not, is the city! Morphing into someone approachable’s easy game- You smooth out your celebrity cheekbones, let the fat of your chest and thighs redistribute into an average body, and when you’re just about done changing the shape of your teeth, it’s time to meet up with your date!

Humans are easy, a breed of mundane that you’d never find among your own kind- So unguarded in this era of seeing thousands of faces, how are you supposed to pick out things to steal if you don’t have firsthand experience? A mole here, or a scar there, human features definitely outweigh their.. Unfortunate intelligence.

Your date is perfect, as they always are with you. A tall, sunkissed blonde with a strong nose and stronger accent. He’s nothing short of beautiful- So much so you’d offered dropping by your place for some drinks. You wouldn’t mind taking a peek at something a bit more,, personal. He’s gullible enough to agree without further debate. They all are.

You’ve observed him the entire conversation- How his hands are calloused from work in the field, or the way his eyes react dollishly with your every word, not a thought behind those livestock eyes. He looks clean but doesn’t smell it.. He either doesn’t shower enough, or he’s peaked your senses,, You’ve been known for standing to attention with pretty boys.. Your eyes dilate when he speaks. He runs at 62 bpm, his eyes have little specks of gold, and GOD he’s trying to hold your hand! HOLD! HIS! HAND! YOU WILL DIE IF YOU DONT HOLD HIS HAND!

You’re sitting in the same booth, hot coffee sits in front of the both of you- You’re far too distracted to take a drink. You want him, Worse than you’ve ever wanted anything. The bay window’s light bathes him, like an angel.. You’re determined to make him a star. Once you’ve taken his body, of course. He’ll be your pretty muse! Give you motivation for the stage again! Your Rook. It’s torture to not lean into him, you want a bite,, :(

His vacant hand on the table reaches for his mug, and you see it happen like a stone coming at a glass house. It’d be too suspicious to react. You have to let it burn you. With a tink against the table, boiling coffee spills over the edge and onto your empty hand- Mercifully avoiding your date. While he goes to fetch a tissue, (stretching deliciously across the table) the offending wound flashes bright blues and greens in an attempt to colour match.. You really, truly hope you don’t have to explain away anything he might’ve seen. You don’t have the energy for that right now - much less to wipe yourself clean, so you let him do it. You’ve always fancied having a human or two wait on you.

“Ah! Ma puce! A touch off topic, but have you ever followed the lives of celebrities? I’m quite the fanatic, myself.”

Not one to fumble a hunt, you acquiesce. He’s a skilled multi tasker- The best a human can be, at least,,

“I do! I’m a super-fan of a newly retired poster girl for this hyperpop group,, totally gonna’ miss her stuff. Why do you ask?”

“Funny, you really do remind me of her.. In your own way. A fun coincidence, no?”

You consider, briefly, brushing him off- Ditching the project and skipping town,, There’s no point staying if your disguise isn’t perfect. Then again, why are you running in the first place from prey? This is your first human with the intuition to recognize you, even if it’s passing, you need to see how this plays out. You can’t help wondering if you might enjoy being hunted for once, if he’s really so good. The only way of knowing is to jump headfirst!

“So, how’s your schedule next Friday?”

@bju3c0re

[mistyshane30]

You Were Never Mine to Lose (Chapter 8)

Synopsis: A day of shopping and a night of games bring the group closer, filled with laughter, teasing, and playful chaos. But as the night winds down, unspoken tensions linger beneath the surface. 

Word count: 4.7K 

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol consumption, Subtle angst, Lingering tension, Unresolved emotions 

You wake up to a dull, throbbing headache—the kind that comes from drinking alone and overthinking too much. Your mouth is dry, and the first thing you do is reach blindly for the glass of water you left on the coffee table last night—only to find it empty. Great. 

Groaning, you sit up, wincing at the stiffness in your neck. Right. You fell asleep on the couch. Rubbing your temples, you glance at your phone. 

It’s already 1:07 PM.  

You blink at the time, still half-asleep, trying to piece together how you even ended up here. The last thing you remember is Adele playing on repeat, the soft glow of the lamp, and the slow burn of whiskey settling in your chest. 

You unlock your phone, and immediately, a flood of group chat messages fills the screen. 

Coven Group Chat 

Jen: "Shopping at Malibu Country Mart today. Be at the main entrance by 3 PM. Also, slumber party at my villa—7 PM. Don't be late." 

Alice: Ooooh, slumber party at 7PM, let’s gooo! 

Lilia: I’m bringing face masks and wine. This is a serious girls’ night. 

Wanda: Better not back out, Y/N. 

Lilia: If she even sees this message. Bet she’s still asleep. 

Alice: She’s totally still asleep. 

Jen: Sleeping off a wild night, probably. 

Wanda: Or she just drinks her problems away like an emotionally unavailable CEO… 

Lilia: Damn, psychoanalyze her more. 

Agatha: She’s reading all of this right now and deciding whether or not to respond. 

You pause, staring at Agatha’s message. It was sent only a few minutes ago. It’s not teasing like the others—it’s casual, knowing. The way she always seems to read you so easily, even through a screen, sends a flicker of something down your spine. 

With a sigh, you toss your phone aside and sit up, swinging your legs over the edge of the couch. Your body feels heavy, weighed down by the remnants of last night’s emotions. The living room is still dim, the curtains drawn shut, and you don’t miss the sight of the nearly empty whiskey bottle on the coffee table. You shake your head and stand, stretching as you make your way to the bathroom. A long shower helps, the hot water washing away some of the heaviness in your limbs. 

Once you're dry, you head to your closet, picking out something that makes you look far more put together than you feel—a black sleeveless knit turtleneck top, grey wide-leg trousers, and your Gucci Arielle crystal-heel ankle boots. You add your Bvlgari Serpenti sunglasses for an extra touch, though part of you knows you’ll need them to shield your still-sleepy, slightly puffy eyes. A tote bag to complete the look, and you're set. 

Feeling somewhat more like yourself, you move to the kitchen, making yourself a quick meal—the first of the day. As you eat, you absentmindedly scroll through your emails, skimming over a few work updates, though nothing urgent enough to demand your attention. Once that’s done, you switch to social media, scrolling without really processing anything, just filling the time. 

By the time you check the clock, it’s already 2:45 PM. 

Then a familiar chime of your phone breaks your thoughts. Another message from the group chat. 

Jen: Y/N, if you’re still asleep by the time we leave, I swear— 

You huff out a laugh, finally picking up your coffee and settling on the couch with your phone. You take a slow sip, letting the warmth ground you before finally typing a reply. 

You: Calm down, I’m alive. 

The second you hit send, Agatha’s typing bubble appears. It lingers for a few seconds before disappearing. 

You stare at the screen for a moment before shaking your head. You don’t have time to analyze it. 

You sigh, setting your phone down and pushing your plate aside. Grabbing your bag, you slip on your sunglasses and head toward the door, stepping outside. The afternoon sun is warm but not unbearable, and as you make your way toward the main entrance, you take a deep breath, bracing yourself. 

You don’t know what today will bring—just that she’ll be there. And lately, that’s been enough to keep your mind racing. 

As you step up to the van, you notice it’s just Jen, Lilia, Alice, and Wanda waiting. No Agatha. You’re about to ask where she is when a familiar voice speaks up behind you. 

“Did anyone bring a power bank? I forgot to plug mine in this morning.” 

You turn around, and there she is—Agatha, looking effortlessly put together despite the casual occasion. She’s wearing a beige lightweight wool blazer over a crisp white silk blouse, tucked neatly into ankle-length trousers of the same shade. Stiletto-heel sandals complete the look, and her black shades sit perched on her nose, adding to the polished aura. Her hair is styled in a bouncy blowout, making her look every bit the governor she is. 

You blink, then smirk. “Are we going shopping, or are we launching a campaign?” 

Agatha slides her shades down just enough to give you a look. “Says the woman dressed like she’s about to close a million-dollar deal.” 

You scoff, but before you can fire back, Lilia sighs dramatically. “Oh my god, just get in the van. You two can flirt inside.” 

You roll your eyes as Agatha just chuckles, and the group piles into the van. The ride is smooth, the warm Malibu sun casting golden streaks through the windows. There’s easy chatter—Wanda and Alice going over what stores they want to hit first, Jen already debating whether she needs another designer purse, and Lilia talking about trying some overpriced organic smoothie she saw in an influencer’s post. 

Agatha, next to you as always, is scrolling through her phone, but you can tell she’s listening to the conversation, occasionally smirking at their antics. 

It’s barely a five-minute drive before the van pulls up to the Malibu Country Mart. As you all step out, the salty ocean breeze mixes with the faint scent of coffee from a nearby café. The place is buzzing with people—locals and tourists alike, dressed in their effortlessly chic beach town attire. 

Jen claps her hands together. “Alright, where to first?” 

You catch Agatha adjusting her blazer, her rings catching the sunlight as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. It takes you a second too long to look away. 

After browsing through boutiques like L’Agence, James Perse, and Ralph Lauren—trying on clothes for fun but not really buying anything—you and the group make your way through the rest of Malibu Country Mart. Jen picks out some dresses and blouses at Ralph Lauren, Alice finds a few pieces of jewelry she can’t resist, and Lilia stocks up on candles. You just enjoy the walk, letting the easy conversations and occasional teasing fill the afternoon. 

Next, you stop by Malibu Shaman, admiring the eclectic art pieces, then wander through Cielo Home, browsing home decor for inspiration rather than purchase. Malibu Colony Co. is your last stop before a break, where Alice finds another piece of jewelry that catches her eye. 

Hunger starts creeping in, and the group decides on coffee and pastries at Alfred Coffee. But before you can get there, Jen suddenly stops in front of a flower shop called Hecate’s Garden. She steps inside without hesitation, the bell chiming softly as she pushes the door open. "I actually haven’t found a florist for my wedding yet," she muses, running her fingers gently over a bouquet of white peonies. 

The rest of you follow, spreading out to explore the shop. The scent of fresh flowers fills the air, mixed with the faintest trace of essential oils. Agatha lingers near a display of deep purple calla lilies, her fingers trailing absently over the petals. You glance at her for a moment before looking away, busying yourself with a stack of floral arrangement books. 

Jen walks toward the front desk and rings the bell, waiting patiently for the florist. A moment later, the sound of footsteps echoes from the back room, and soon, a woman steps out, wiping her hands on her apron. "Sorry for the wait! I was just finishing up a bouquet in the back," she says. 

You had expected an old woman to own this shop, but you’re surprised to see someone else entirely. Your eyes scan her for a moment—grey cropped tank top, faded jeans, an apron covered in flower stains, chunky boots, and her hair pulled into a messy bun. And that face… it looks familiar. Then it clicks. 

It’s the woman who kept winning at the Water Race back at Pacific Park—Rio Vidal. 

Quickly, you look away and slide your sunglasses on, as if that’ll do anything to hide you. 

Jen doesn’t notice your mini crisis. "Oh, it’s fine! I actually wanted to ask—do you have experience with wedding arrangements?" she asks. 

Rio nods, tilting her head. "I do. Are you a wedding planner, or—?" 

"The bride-to-be," Jen corrects with a smile, then gestures toward the group. "And these are my bridesmaids." 

Rio smiles, scanning the group, but then her gaze lands on you. She leans in slightly, as if to make sure she’s seeing correctly. 

"Y/N!?" 

You have no choice but to awkwardly face her, forcing a smile. "Rio," you say, trying to sound casual, though your cheeks feel like they’re on fire. 

Your friends exchange glances, clearly intrigued. Jen raises an eyebrow. "Wait, you two know each other?" 

Rio grins. "Yeah, we met at Pacific Park a few days ago. Y/N here was very competitive at the Water Race. Oh! And I actually gave her my business card—told her to pass it along in case you needed a florist." 

Jen tilts her head. "Really? Because I never got a business card." 

All eyes shift to you. You clear your throat. "I… forgot to give it to you." 

"Mmmhmm," Wanda hums, smirking. "Or maybe you just wanted to keep her number for yourself." 

You shoot her a glare, not amused. Wanda simply chuckles, clearly enjoying this too much. You, on the other hand, would love nothing more than to sink into the floor. 

The group seems entirely entertained by the revelation—except Agatha. Her expression is unreadable, but there’s something in her eyes that makes you uneasy. 

Thankfully, Rio steers the conversation back to business, chatting with Jen about the wedding. You take the moment to nudge Wanda in the shoulder, still irritated by her teasing. She just laughs under her breath. 

After discussing a few details, Jen thanks Rio, and the group prepares to leave. As you turn to exit, Rio smiles at all of you in a formal farewell, but as her eyes meet yours again, she winks. 

Your friends catch it. They don’t say anything, but their reactions are clear. 

Except for Agatha, whose expression remains cool, unimpressed. 

You force a small smile at Rio before stepping out of the shop, exhaling a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. 

When you finally reach Alfred Coffee and settle into a table, placing your orders, you notice your friends all staring at you. Expectantly. 

You blink. "What?" 

Lilia snorts. "Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you totally just got winked at by the hot florist?" 

Alice smirks. "Yeah, and maybe because you looked like you wanted to sink into the floor the entire time." 

You groan, already regretting sitting down. "Can we not?" 

Wanda leans forward, grinning. "So, are you and Rio a thing now?" 

"No," you answer quickly. "We barely even talked." 

"But you could," Lilia teases. "Like, what if—" 

"There is no what if," you interrupt, shaking your head. "We met at a carnival game. That’s it." 

Alice raises an eyebrow. "And yet, she remembered you. And she winked." 

"Okay, why is the wink such a big deal?" 

Wanda shrugs dramatically. "Because it was a wink. A flirtatious, ‘see you later’ kind of wink." 

You sigh, taking a sip of your coffee instead of responding. The teasing goes on for a while, your friends fully enjoying watching you squirm. All except Agatha, who is busy on her phone, barely acknowledging the conversation. 

At some point, Alice leans forward. "Okay, okay, but back up—how exactly did you and Rio meet?" 

You exhale, knowing there’s no escape. "It was at Pacific Park," you start, setting your cup down. "She was at the Water Race game, and I—" you pause briefly before continuing, "Agatha was with me when we met." 

Lilia’s brow lifts slightly, but no one comments on that part. "And?" 

You clear your throat. "Rio kept winning. Like, every single round. Apparently, no one ever beats her at that game." 

"But you did," Alice points out. 

You nod. "Yeah. Eventually, I won. She came up to congratulate me after, since, according to her, it never happens. We talked a little, and she gave me her business card for Jen. That’s it." 

Lilia grins. "Interesting." 

"Not interesting," you correct. "Just a random carnival game. That’s all." 

The teasing continues, but you choose to ignore most of it. Eventually, the coffee is gone, and the group decides to head back to the resort. As everyone parts ways, Jen reminds everyone about the slumber party at her villa later. You nod, making your way back to your own villa, glad to finally get a moment of peace—though you’re not entirely sure why Agatha’s silence feels louder than all the teasing combined. 

It’s almost 7 p.m. when you make your way to Jen’s villa, the evening air still warm against your skin. You knock on the door, expecting Jen to answer, but instead, it swings open to reveal Agatha. 

She’s standing there in a set of deep purple silk pajamas, the fabric catching the light just enough to make her look effortlessly elegant. Her top is unbuttoned just enough to hint at the curve of her collarbone, and for a brief, fleeting second, you forget why you’re even here. 

Her gaze sweeps over you, slow and deliberate, before her lips curl into a smirk. 

“Well, well,” she drawls, leaning against the doorframe. “Didn’t realize this was that kind of slumber party.” 

You blink, confused for half a second—until you register the teasing glint in her eyes. And then it hits you—your outfit. 

You’re in a maroon silk cami and matching shorts, something you threw on without a second thought. Or at least, that’s what you’re telling yourself now. But standing here under Agatha’s sharp gaze, the air between you suddenly feels different—charged in a way you can’t quite place. 

She tilts her head, her smirk deepening. “Not that I’m complaining. You certainly know how to make an entrance.” 

Your breath catches, just for a second. There’s something about the way she says it—not just teasing, but something else, something lingering beneath her tone. Or maybe you’re imagining it. Maybe you want to be imagining it. 

You recover quickly, masking the brief flicker of nerves with a smirk of your own. “And here I thought you were the one dressing for attention, Mrs. Governor.” 

Her smirk twitches, like she knows exactly what you’re doing. But before she can fire back, you step past her into the villa, pretending your pulse isn’t just slightly offbeat. 

Inside, the others are already settled in the living room. Jen and Lilia are on the floor with face masks on, sipping their drinks, while Wanda and Alice lounge nearby, looking entirely too comfortable. The moment their eyes land on you, they exchange glances, and then— 

“Oh, damn,” Lilia hums, tilting her head. “Someone came dressed to kill.” 

Wanda wiggles her brows. “I know we said slumber party, but I didn’t think we meant lingerie ad.” 

Jen laughs, shaking her head. “I swear, you always have to make things dramatic, don’t you?” 

You roll your eyes, plopping down onto one of the cushions. “Can’t a girl just wear something comfortable?” 

“Comfortable?” Alice repeats. “That’s not comfortable. That’s a statement.” 

As the teasing continues, you catch Agatha sinking onto the couch out of the corner of your eye, her expression unreadable. But when you glance at her fully, she’s already looking away, swirling the drink in her hand like she has better things to focus on. 

Maybe it’s nothing. 

Or maybe it’s something. 

Either way, you shake it off and grab a drink, ready to see what the night has in store. 

You guys order some pizza to eat while chatting, the conversation flowing easily as laughter fills the room. Between bites, you find yourself stealing glances at Agatha every chance you get, catching the way the dim lighting makes her look impossibly softer. She seems relaxed tonight, the usual sharpness in her gaze slightly dulled by the warmth of the atmosphere. 

After eating, Wanda suggests playing Jenga. The first few rounds are fun—competitive banter, exaggerated celebrations when someone successfully pulls out a block, groans when the tower inevitably collapses. But after two rounds, the excitement dies down, and everyone starts losing interest. 

Lilia, ever the instigator, claps her hands together. "Alright, Jenga was a bust. How about Truth or Dare?" 

You let out an incredulous laugh, shaking your head. "Are we seriously playing Truth or Dare? What is this, a high school sleepover?" 

"Oh, come on," Wanda smirks, already reaching for her drink. "We’re all adults here. What’s the worst that could happen?" 

You scoff but ultimately shrug. It’s harmless fun, right? Just a game. And besides, the slight buzz from the drinks makes everything seem a little funnier, a little lighter. 

The game begins with everyone sitting in a circle on the floor, a half-empty pizza box in the middle and glasses of wine or soda scattered around. Jen starts first, picking "Truth." Lilia leans in, smirking. "Alright, Jen—when did you know your fiancé was 'the one'?" 

Jen hums, thinking. "I guess when he stayed up all night helping me prepare for a court case even though he had no clue what he was doing. He just wanted to help." 

Alice clutches her chest dramatically. "Ugh, that's disgustingly sweet." 

The turns continue. Alice chooses "Dare" and is dared to text an ex a vague "I miss you." She groans but does it, then immediately turns her phone off. "Nope. I'm not dealing with that tonight." 

Lilia picks "Truth" and is asked who her last crush was. She sighs. "Some barista at this cute coffee shop near my apartment. We flirted a lot, but I think she was just being nice for tips." 

Agatha goes next. She swirls her wine glass, eyes flicking to you briefly. "Dare." 

Jen, who has been waiting for this moment, leans forward. "I dare you to say something you genuinely admire about Y/N." 

Your head snaps toward Jen. "Excuse me?" 

The group turns to Agatha, waiting. She tilts her head, considering, then meets your eyes. "She’s… determined. Once she sets her mind on something, she sees it through." 

Your stomach flips at her words, and you quickly look away, reaching for your drink to distract yourself. The air feels charged, but before anyone can comment, the game moves on. 

Then it's Wanda's turn. She picks "Dare," and Lilia grins wickedly. "I dare you to send a voice memo confessing your undying love to a random contact." 

Wanda rolls her eyes but takes her phone out, scrolling. "Fine, but if this backfires, I’m haunting all of you." She records the message dramatically. "I have loved you in silence for too long. Every moment without you is agony." She sends it and immediately regrets it. "Oh my God, I sent it to my dentist." 

The room erupts into laughter. 

Then, it's your turn. Wanda grins. "Truth or Dare?" 

You should’ve known she’d be trouble. "Dare." 

"Text Rio. Just a simple 'Hey~'." 

Your face heats instantly. "Are you serious?" 

"Rules are rules," Lilia chimes in, nudging you. 

With an exasperated sigh, you pull out Rio’s business card from your wallet, type in the number, and send the text. "Happy now?" You show them the screen. 

The group cheers, but you glance at Agatha. She’s focused on her drink, spinning the stem of her wine glass between her fingers, her expression unreadable. 

The game continues, with dares getting bolder and truths getting more revealing. Alice, emboldened by the wine, gets dared to send a flirty text to her neighbor and does so with a dramatic flourish. Lilia is forced to prank call her boss and nearly chokes on laughter trying to sound serious. Wanda, still recovering from her dentist confession, picks "Truth" and is asked who her biggest celebrity crush is. "Easy," she smirks. "Charlize Theron." 

Then it's Jen's turn again. She picks "Dare," and Alice grins. "I dare you to take a shot without making a face." 

Jen raises a brow, unfazed, and downs the shot with ease, setting the glass down with a smirk. "You underestimate me." 

Agatha, who has been quietly observing, finally gets another turn. She considers for a moment, then picks "Truth." 

Lilia leans in, her expression mischievous. "Alright, Agatha, be honest—have you ever been interested in someone in this room?" 

Agatha raises a brow, swirling her wine glass lazily. "Interest is a broad term." 

The group groans at her deflection, but Lilia presses on. "Fine, let me rephrase. Have you ever thought about kissing someone in this room?" 

Agatha exhales a soft chuckle, taking a slow sip of her wine before answering, "Maybe." 

More protests erupt, demands for details flying from all directions. But Agatha just smirks, her expression unreadable. You grip your glass a little tighter, pulse quickening. For a second—just a second—you swear her eyes flicker toward you, but it's gone before you can be sure. 

The game moves on, but your mind lingers. 

The game continues with even riskier dares and truths, laughter filling the room as the night deepens. 

Then, it comes back to you. You pick "Dare" again, and Jen lights up mischievously. "Perform a seductive dance for the group." 

You groan, throwing your head back. "Are we really doing this?" 

"Oh, absolutely," Alice smirks. 

Sighing, you stand up, stretching dramatically. The speaker is still playing soft music in the background, but Lilia quickly changes it to something more fitting—sultry, slow. You roll your eyes but go along with it, swaying your hips, running a hand down your body in exaggerated moves. Jen and Lilia pretend to throw money at you, and Wanda is recording, cackling. You steal a glance at Agatha, and— 

She’s watching. Intently. That same amused expression, but her lips are slightly parted, fingers tapping against her wine glass as if in thought. The way her eyes linger sends a shiver down your spine. 

You finish with a twirl and drop back down into your seat. "There. Happy?" 

"Oh, very," Jen teases. 

The night deepens, the dares get wilder, and the truths get riskier. By the time you’re all leaning into each other, laughing over some ridiculous confession from Lilia about making out with a stranger in an elevator, you can’t help but notice Agatha hasn’t picked another dare. 

And she’s barely taken a sip from her wine since that one particular dare was mentioned. 

The game carries on, but your thoughts keep circling back—to Agatha, to the way she looked at you, and to what exactly that meant. 

After the game, you guys decide to watch a movie. You sink into the couch, stretching your legs out comfortably, when Agatha casually takes the seat right beside you. You pretend not to care, keeping your expression neutral, but inside? Yeah, you definitely care. You tell yourself it's just because of the lingering tension from the game, but who are you fooling? You can feel the warmth of her so close, the occasional brush of her arm against yours, and it makes your skin buzz with awareness. 

Jen scrolls through the available movies, listing them out loud. 

“Okay, we’ve got Jennifer’s Body, How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, Legally Blonde... ooh, Gone Girl, and then—The Exorcist?” Jen reads, glancing at the group for reactions. 

“Absolutely not,” Alice says immediately, shaking her head. “I am not watching The Exorcist before bed. I will sleep with the lights on.” 

“Lilia might actually like that one,” Wanda teases. 

Lilia just shrugs. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind. But I know Alice would kill me in my sleep if I made her watch it.” 

“She’s right,” Alice agrees. “Pick something else.” 

“Fine, fine,” Jen says, scrolling again. “What about 10 Things I Hate About You?” 

Wanda and Alice immediately light up. “Yes, yes, yes,” Wanda says, pointing at the screen. 

“Oh, classic. That’s the one,” Alice nods. 

Jen turns to the rest of you. “Votes?” 

“I’m in,” Lilia says easily. 

“Same,” you add. “It’s one of my favorite movies.” 

At that, Agatha gives you a look. A slow, unreadable glance before she tilts her head, brow slightly raised, like she just learned something new about you. You turn to her. 

“What?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at her. 

She just shrugs, smirking slightly. “Nothing.” Then she looks away, clearly amused about something. 

You squint at her for a second before deciding to let it go. Jen, satisfied with the choice, clicks play and turns off the lights to set the mood for a “cinematic experience.” 

As the movie starts, you settle into your seat, sipping your drink. Occasionally, your gaze drifts toward Agatha, watching how she reacts to different scenes. You steal glances at her when she’s not looking, curious. 

Then comes that scene. 

Heath Ledger, standing in the bleachers, belting out Can’t Take My Eyes Off You with a mischievous grin. 

Your grip on your drink tightens slightly. Not because of the scene itself—you’ve seen it a hundred times. But because, in the dim glow of the screen, you catch Agatha watching it with an expression that’s softer than usual, a flicker of amusement in her eyes. And maybe it’s your mind playing tricks on you, but for a brief second, you swear you feel her gaze shift toward you. 

You immediately look back at the screen, pretending to be engrossed in the movie. 

Great. Now I’m imagining things. 

You shake it off, focusing on the film. But then comes the poem scene. Julia Stiles’ Kat stands at the front of the classroom, voice shaking, eyes brimming with emotion as she delivers I hate the way I don’t hate you, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all. 

You shift slightly in your seat. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Agatha blink a little more than usual. Her lips press together like she’s trying to suppress some kind of reaction. 

You don’t know why, but your chest feels tight watching her watch this scene. You tell yourself it’s just because it’s a good movie. That’s all. 

Definitely. That’s all. 

The movie ends, and one by one, everyone starts settling in for the night. The room is filled with quiet murmurs, blankets being adjusted, and the occasional yawn as exhaustion finally catches up. 

You lay down on the floor mattress beside Wanda, letting out a slow exhale as you adjust your pillow. The room is dim, only the soft glow of a lamp in the corner keeping the space from total darkness. Just as you start to get comfortable, Agatha lays down on the other side of you, close enough that you can feel the faintest shift of the mattress beneath her weight. 

You immediately freeze. 

With your back to her, you tell yourself not to think about it—to ignore the way the air shifts, heavier somehow, charged with something unspoken. To pretend the space between you isn’t filled with quiet tension, that your heart isn’t betraying you with every uneven beat. You stay still, breathing slow and steady, feigning indifference. Pretending it doesn’t affect you. Pretending you don’t feel her there. 

Instead, you turn to Wanda and make quiet small talk, anything to distract yourself from the warmth of Agatha’s presence behind you. Wanda hums sleepily in response, her words growing softer with each reply. 

Eventually, her breathing evens out, signaling that she’s drifted off. You should do the same. 

But you don’t move. You refuse to shift, to roll over or adjust, because that would mean acknowledging Agatha is right there. 

So instead, you stay perfectly still, facing Wanda’s side, eyes closed, forcing yourself to sleep—even as the awareness of Agatha lingers in every breath you take. 

Taglist: @6stolenangel9 @charlottelinlin1 @milflovers4 @claramelooo @loveshineslikethesky @kaymariesworld @marcelinaceciliarose @misskassycollins @greyella @theothersideofthescreen @whitelotus00 @agathaallalongg @psychickryptonitebouquet @sweetmidnights @angel-kitten-babygirl-u-choose @filmedbyharkness @brekker157 @rizzlesregal13 @starbucks-06 @aboutcustardcreams @crescendoofstars @neverfindmegone @mommy-mommy-mommy-hi

[mintmatcha]

Inevitable Things : chapter seven

aizawa x reader fic

cw: aizawa x reader, cisfem reader, office AU, no quirks. no porn in the first two chapters, sorry gang :

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

Wednesday starts with a phone call. You're fresh out of the shower when the screen on your phone starts flashing. In a scramble, you knock over almost everything in your tub to grab it in time.

“Hello-- is everything okay?”  You wedge the phone into the crook of your shoulder and pinch the towel with your free hand. 

“Hey, it's ya boy.” Denki's voice crackles with sleep and your panic resides immediately. “Do you wanna ride to work? I’m in your apartment complex.”

“What? Don't you live on campus?”

“Mm, I was staying with a friend. ” The muffled trill of a giggle bounces behind him, high and unfamiliar. “I’ll be over in fifteen-ish. I fly, you buy coffee, ‘kay?”

He hangs up without a real goodbye, the line practically going dead mid-syllable. It is not the strangest call you've ever gotten from Denki, but it’s up there. No matter; you're thankful for the ride this morning. Summer is starting to eat the city alive and you're happy to not have to deal with the stink tube that is the train. You do have to scramble to get ready in time, scooping up clothes from your laundry basket and throwing an outfit together without much thought.

An hour later, Denki's beater rolls up outside your door. You try not to look at the clock as you hurry over to the red monstrosity and kick some cans out of the way to get to your seat. Denki just nods to you as you get in; you ignore how sticky the pleather is. In yesterday’s clothes and a sheen of sweat, Denki is somehow more ruffled than he is every other day-- complete with an obscene amount of  blossoming purple hickies down the side of his neck. 

“Jeez, did you lose a fight or something?”

“Oh, oohhh,” he chuckles, throwing an arm over the back of your chair. He smells like sex-- and not in a good way. It’s sour like an onion. “I let her win.”

You push his arm back and groan. “Ew.”

“Oh, don’t be jealous.”

You point to his radio clock- it’s almost nine already. “Kaminari, drive! We’re going to be so late.”

He starts rolling, one hand barely on the wheel. “Oh, you’re so jealous that I’m getting laid and you aren’t.”

No, you’re annoyed that every man that shows you interest sexually turns out to BE a raging cock instead of GIVING you any. 

“You don’t know that I’m not getting laid.”

“People getting dick don’t make that face.” He leans over and pokes your cheek. “That face, right there. I don’t make that face-”

“Watch the road!”

He almost crashes two more times before you guys pull into the parking lot. 9:02. You’re shaken and a bit nauseated, but Denki’s made you laugh enough that you’ve already forgiven him. 

“We’re so late!” You scurry from the vehicle before he’s shut off the engine.

Kaminari cracks open another silver can of energy drink as he slowly peels himself from the seat. “No, we aren’t. Look! Aizawa just got here too.”

You glance up with the same tact as a deer in headlights. Parked right behind you is a very familiar sports car, your favorite blonde and your least favorite coworker standing right beside it. Both men are staring directly at you with very contrasting expressions: Hizashi excited, Aizawa enraged. The shorter man yanks on his hoodie strings, closing his hood comically tight around his head, and grumbles something to his friend. Hizashi nods enthusiastically. You sometimes forget they are long time friends, but you can see it in the way they subconsciously mimic each other’s movements. Their hair is even tied up in similar ways; Hizashi’s pin straight hair knotted beautifully into a bun, Aizawa’s jammed into a messy, almost bun shape, both sitting on the backs of their necks. It’s definitely a coincidence, but the thought of them doing this intentionally makes you crack a smile.

Aizawa immediately ducks his gaze after that and your stomach twists at the reminder of victory. A giggle bubbles up in your throat, but you manage to swallow it back down; he’s still bothered. Good. They’ve parked right behind you, close enough that none of you can pretend they didn’t see the other, but he’s certainly trying. 

“Hizashi!” you coo loudly, much more ostentatious than you usually are. “How’s my husband?

“Oh, babygirl!” Mic throws his arms wide and blows your way in that airy, graceful way only he can manage. “You look--” His face falls to a grimace as Kaminari steps closer. “Oh, jeez, kid.”

Kaminari doesn’t even try to hide his hickeys. They’re getting darker, you swear.  “Did you get into a fight with a vacuum cleaner?”

The younger man just rubs the back of his neck. “Haha, you know how it is.”

“I do.” Hizashi juts his tongue into his cheek. “But also, I don't. At all. This is excessive.”

 Aizawa scoffs. His head is turned away from you, fixed on a point in the distance. He pulls his little black backpack over his shoulder and trudges towards the door.

“Button your collar before you enter the building or else I’m sending you home.” “You look awful.”

Kaminari blurts out an agreement, then turns back to you two. “What's gotten into his ass lately?”

You shoot him a knowing look. “He’s always like this.”

“No, it's worse lately!”

“I agree,” Hizashi chimes in. “ Shouta's been…”

“A bitch.”

“Kaminari!”

“No, he's right.” The tall man sighs. “I'm not sure what his issue is. He's probably stressed about the conference presentations.”

“Oh. Shit.” The UA Conference and Expo is actually a very big deal, not just for the company, but for the biomedical field in general, which is why it's so surprising that you completely forgot about it. It's part expo hall, part continuing education panel, and part research debuts. Hundreds of people flock to the city to see the newest models and equipment on display, including potential customers. In past years, Hizashi headed the sales floor, Aizawa presented research, and Yagi did everything else. 

This year, everything else falls on you. 

For a while, you were looking forward to the event; despite its prestidge, it’s actually a rather low maintenance trip for you. Shake some hands, share some business cards, apologize for Yagi’s absence and commiserate over missing him. It’s a glorified vacation to the city center--

Despite Aizawa.

 “Is that coming up?” You try to remember the dates.

“Next week!” Hizashi laughs. “Girl, you booked the hotel rooms.”

“I know I just--” Hopefully this cold front lasts into next week; the whole conference will be easier if Aizawa gives you distance. “Time got away from me, I guess.” 

“Happens when you get old.” Kaminari winks at you and you frown back.

“I’m just kidding! You’re so sensitive for your age.”

Hizashi struts over to you, his perfect smile a bit strained as he speaks. “Baby girl, give me a hug.” 

It’s strange, but you throw yourself into his arms anyway and Hizashi squeezes you tight, even lifting you off of your feet a little with the force. He’s dipping in to directly speak into your ear, speaking through his teeth:

“Are you the one who sucked on this guy’s neck?”

You balk. How could anyone think you’re fucking Kaminari? 

��Oh, no, he’s fucking someone in my apartment complex,” you whisper back. 

“Oh, thank god.” Hizashi’s touch relaxes. Shit-- there’s not any trust there, huh? You can’t blame him; you do have a track record. You two break away and you adjust your clothes. Of course, you managed to pick the most wrinkled shirt in your closet. 

“How’s the situation at home?”

Oh, great. You must look homeless.

“Oh, uh, good. I think,” you shrug. “Ordered some new lamps and stuff last night and now my bank account is aching.”

Kaminari looks surprised; you try not to discuss finances in front of the interns. It’s embarrassing, frankly, to be struggling at your big age. 

“You know we’d be happy to help you out however--” Hizashi continues. “There’s still that extra room in our house. Save up some rent money for a bit and live with us.”

“I would never ask you guys to do that.”

Your stomach cramps at the thought of asking anyone for help. You aren’t destitute, but… 

“Sales is always hiring. You’d make a lot more than you currently do.” Hizashi must see the discomfort on your face.  “We’re actually expanding, so if you want to more to Wichita-”

“If you move to Wichita, I’m killing myself.” Kaminari sags with performed misery. “Where even is Wichita?”

“Kaminari, you aren’t even in a permanent position.” The interns rarely transition into full time employees after graduation. “You’ll be gone before I am.”

“Don’t blame me for going to college!”

“I also went to college.”

“What?” Both men seem confused. “For what?”

“Neuroscience.”

“What the fuck at you doing here?” Kaminari gasps. “Go cure cancer or something.”

“Really though, think about the sales position.” Hizashi gets you back on track.  “We have positions that are not in Kansas too.”

“Don’t chase her away!”

“I would never! But a change of scenery might do her well. I love my work wife enough to set her free.”

“Again, Denki. You’re only going to be here for a couple more months.” You start towards the door. “Less time if you don’t cover your hickey!”

The three of you head inside, both you and Hizashi tugging on Denki’s collar to try and hide the bruises. It’s a fool’s errand; there’s a grape sized mark right under his ear, completely unhidable. Hizashi goes his own way after a bit and the two of you head down towards your desk. It’s so much later than usual; hopefully someone else made coffee this morning, or else there’s going to be some grumpy people-

When you turn the corner, there’s no table. No table, no machine, nothing. Only the scuffs on the floor from where the legs once were.  

You turn back around the corner and then come back. No, it’s still not there. Kaminari watches you like you’re going insane.

“Where's the coffee machine?” 

He shrugs at you, not stopping. “I dunno, man. Ask Pinky.”

Ochako looks more flustered than usual, her pink cheeks burned red as she passes her coworker in the hallway. Her arms are filled with files; crunch time is running everyone ragged. Launch of the second model is expected to be in less than three months and there’s an almost impossible amount of work to be done. 

“The  coffee- Oh, um. It was moved to engineering.”

You stare at her and try to rationalize this. “Why?”

“Mr. Aizawa said to.” She smiles, apologetic, like she knows something you don’t. She probably does, but you can’t seem to care. 

“Well.” you toss your things on to your desk. “I'm going to go talk to him.”

Ochako goes a bit pale at that. “Be careful, he’s really-”

You’re already halfway down the hall.

--

For once, engineering is booming and alive. Most of the senior partners work from home, but there seems to be something that brought most of them in today. It’s almost unsettling to see so many people working; it makes this place feel full. A couple of familiar faces look your way as you stride in, past the tinkering and typing, and go all the way to the back. Sure enough, there sits the ever so familiar coffee table, the machine percolating softly where it sits right outside Aizawa’s office door.  

Oh. This. This is the real declaration of war.

It’s so believably petty and childish that it completely boggles your mind. There’s no reason to touch it! No reason to change anything! What is it about men coming into your life and moving your fucking furniture?

Aizawa’s door is closed. You don’t knock. Throwing open the door, the man himself sits behind his monitors, only the very top of his head visible. His grays glitter under the fluorescent lights and you get some sick pleasure out of knowing he’s aging, that he’s old and alone and-

 Aizawa raises a brow. “Do you mind?”

Shit, you’ve been quiet this whole time. You stammer wildly and point to the desk like a petulant child. 

“D-did you move this?”

Aizawa doesn’t look up from his work. He types so quickly that you fear he must be making a litany of typos. “I’m busy.”

This time, you steel yourself before you talk.

“Did you move the coffee machine?” you press, stepping further into his office. You can see him clearer now; the man leans far back into his chair, the plastic creaking in protest, and sighs. He closes his eyes for one beat, two beats, three beats-- you almost think you’ve broken him. Finally, he grants you the decency of eye contact, glancing up over his glasses’ rim. 

“I did.”

“Well,” you flounder for a second. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I can.”

Not the answer you were looking for. You point with your open hand again, huffing even louder. You’re aware that everyone behind you is a lot quieter now, most of the typing subsided. One of the other engineers, Vlad, is just staring at you through the glass paneling; you can see him from the corner of your eye, trying to mind his own business and failing. You’re being too loud, but you can’t make yourself any softer right now.

“Move it back.” 

“No.” Lips pulled taut in disappointment, Aizawa gives you a heady sigh, like a father scolding a child.  He pulls the sleeve to his sweatshirt taut over his hand and uses the fabric to clean loose drops of coffee from the rim of his thermos. Disgusting brown spots dot the neon yellow sleeve. “The world doesn’t cave to your wants.”

Fury burns your cheeks.This isn’t the place to make a scene. Not in front of an entire department. You can feel your hands quivering with pure anger as you turn on your heel and try to regulate your breathing- 

“I'm sure that pouting act worked on your junky boyfriend, but it doesn't work here.” 

He says it under his breath, but clear enough that, in front of you, Izuku sits straight up and sucks air in through his teeth in abject horror. 

Touya's drug problem is the loudest secret in your life. You deny it as much as possible, but everyone knows the truth. It's what's ruining him-- ruining you by extension.

Oh, fuck it. 

Fuck it!

You’re going to make a fucking scene.

You wheel back around so fast that your hair hits you in the face, but it does nothing to slow you down. “You’re a fucking jerk.”

Aizawa’s eyebrows quirk up in genuine surprise. You aren’t one to curse in the office. “Want to repeat that?”

Yes, actually, you do. You stomp in, fists balled as you bump against his desk just hard enough to slosh his overly full thermos.  Leaning over the monitors, you get as close as you can before continuing.

  “I said that you’re a mo-ther-fuc-king jerk.” You hit every syllable as hard as you can.

Aizawa stands now too, leaning on his hands. His face is inches from yours, so close that you can smell the touch of coffee and mint on his breath. He’s clean shaven today, no little whisker to hide his frown lines and sunken cheeks. Bits of speckled melanin -sun damage and scars- litter his skin, a sea of tiny imperfections under the jagged, brutal cut across his cheek bone. That healed skin goes taut when he starts to boom.

“Do you want to know why I really moved it?” Aizawa spits. His nearly black eyes bore into yours, unblinking, unrelenting  “I don't want to see you. I don't want to ever hear your voice. I don’t want to smell your perfume. I don’t even want to be in your vicinity.” 

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you aren't sad-- you're boiling, so impossibly angry and hurt that you can’t find the words or logic for it.

  “You are-” Your throat is tight with emotion and you have to fight through it to stay sounding angry. “The most rude, selfish, insufferable-” 

“I'm insufferable? Me?” He leans back and guffaws a clearly fake sound. “You are the most weak willed, soft-”

 “You're just an asshole!” you shout. “A huge fucking asshole that everyone hates!”

“Hey, uh.”  

You both snap around to see Izuku, awkwardly standing in the doorway. He stands uber straight, arms tucked tight to his side and chin in the air. He opens his mouth to speak. “I-”

“Does it look like I want you to interrupt?” Aizawa doesnt let the boy breathe. “Do we not look busy?

Izuku goes wide eyed and you wheel back around. The motion nearly knocks over both of Aizawa's monitors. “Don't yell at him!”

“He's not seven, he doesn't need the princess defending him.”

“Call me princess one more time.”

“Tell me how to run my department one more time.” 

“I should! You’re an awful boss and everyone hates you, you fucking cunt-”

“Both of you.”  When you turn back around, Vlad is there now, grim faced. He's a massive man -a power lifter in his free time- with gray hair and a downturned mouth. His shoulders practically dwarf the doorway. The way he looms steals the air from your lungs; you shrink back and shut your mouth. 

It apparently has the same effect on Aizawa; he's in charge of Vlad, but his presence seems to mellow the smaller man out. He groans and flops back down to his chair and waves his hand vaguely in the air. 

“Coffee machine stays. You go. Goodbye.” 

You don't move. 

“Goodbye.” Aizawa waits a moment, then repeats it. “Goodbye.”

You look between him and Vlad. The big man nods and steps out of the way, silently encouraging your exit. It's a loss-- and an embarrassing one at that. It takes effort to keep your chin up as you leave.

“Oh, and tell Kaminari that he reeks,” Aizawa shouts after you. 

You storm down the hall, past the curious faces. You’re trying to stay angry, but it’s fizzling out into embarrassment fairly quickly.

“Kaminari,” you say, a bit louder than you should. “You smell.”

The blonde’s jaw drops. “Dude, I drove you here! Why am I catching strays?”

--

Someone from HR checks in with you later that day, with her placid smile and worried brow. You’re given a slap on the wrist for calling someone an asshole, but the meeting is mostly focused on if you're alright and comfortable. As much as you hate the guy, you don't want him to lose his job; you insist that things are fine, but you open up a job browsing site as soon as she’s gone. 

Yagi would forgive you for leaving-- fuck, he'd probably applaud you.  You start googling Wichita.

Aizawa is sent home midday. You just watch the back of his awful yellow sweatshirt as he stomps out the door. You resist the urge to flip him off behind his back.

Later that night, when you’re cooled down and tucked into bed, Hizashi texts you.

-I heard what happened.

-Can you guys hold it together for the con?

-I’d really hate it if you killed each other in my car.

You don’t respond because you don’t know the answer.

You google Wichita again.

[rafesbabygirlx]

Don’t Smile

Masterlist

Rafe x Reader Angst

Inspiration: Don’t Smile by Sabrina Carpenter

Result from this poll.

Summary: You and Rafe are both struggling with your break up. I’m much different ways. Based in end of season 1 beginning of season 2.

Neither of you wanted the breakup, but you couldn’t handle his erratic behavior any longer. You thought you’d be okay, but for three straight weeks, you lay in bed, unable to eat or find any joy. The months that followed were spent in isolation, shutting yourself off from everyone. Eventually, your friends had enough. They forced you out of bed and insisted you join them at the annual bonfire. You took a shower while they pregamed in your room, the warm water a small relief after three days without one.

You hadn’t charged your phone since the day you shut everyone out, but tonight you decided to. As you finished getting ready, you reached for your phone and your screensaver lit up—an old picture of you and Rafe, taken during happier times. You were on the beach, resting on his chest as his strong arms wrapped around you, squeezing your cheeks together in playful affection. Your heart clenched. Without thinking, you tossed your phone to your friend and asked her to delete his number.

At the bonfire, you grabbed a drink and settled onto a log with your friends. For the first time in a while, you admitted it felt good to be out, even if you had to fake your laughter. Scanning the crowd, you felt a brief moment of peace until your eyes locked on Rafe. He was laughing with his friends, the sound of it carrying over the fire. Your vision narrowed, body turning numb. When Topper shifted, you saw her—a blonde girl hanging on his arm. You knew Rafe could move on quickly, emotions never being his strong suit, but seeing it firsthand cut deeper than anything before.

Time seemed to blur as you stared, your focus broken only when you noticed Rafe looking back at you. A wave of nausea rolled over you, and without a word, you told your friends you were leaving. Before they could respond, you dropped your drink and made your way to the parking lot.

You hadn’t reached your car when you felt a familiar hand on your shoulder. “Where you going so soon, princess?” Rafe’s voice was low, almost gentle.

“Don’t touch me, Rafe.”

“I’ve been trying to call you for weeks. Your parents won’t let me see you. I needed to talk to you.”

“Please, just leave me alone. Go back to your new friend. Please.” Tears gathered at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill.

“Not if you’re not okay.” His grip on your shoulder remained firm.

“Does it make you feel better? Girl after girl? Do you numb yourself with them? Do you even think about me, about how I feel when you’re with them?”

He didn’t answer. His silence confirmed everything. The mask he wore—the pretense that everything was fine—made you sick. And from the way his jaw tightened, it was clear that it made him sick too when you shoved his arm off.

“You can keep pretending, Rafe, but I know.” You turned and walked to your car, leaving him behind as you drove away.

Reblog if you enjoyed. Support your writers.

[vrystalius]

Sweet, sweet revenge

Akaza keeps tormenting you about being weak and never able to match his strength, so you decided to shower him in compliments as a revenge!

Pairing: Akaza x hashira!fem!reader

Akaza is very ruthless during training. He doesn’t care if you’re a woman, since you’re a hashira, you’re supposed to be strong and powerful, able to match his strength in battle. The demon sure loves you, but he sometimes doubts that you are a true hashira. Maybe you have been lying and trying to scare him off the first time you two met, in an attempt to shoo the Upper Three demon away with your status. Obviously it didn’t work since the same demon has been crawling into your sheets every night, demanding to be held.

But right now, you were really struggling to believe that the cuddly Akaza you held for hours on end was the same aiming powerful attacks towards you. He was punching you without a care, and sometimes you feared he might punch a hole through your stomach by the sheer force he was using. You knew he was capable of it and held back severely, but still! He can go even gentler, can’t he? The force of his punch knocked you onto the dirt with Akaza looming over you. A smirk grew on his face.

“You’ll never catch up to me at this rate, bunny.”

You were done with his constant bullying snd teasing. How about you give that attitude back at him, just sweeter? You knew how badly he handles compliments and praises, you’ve seen his blushing face many times before. The cutest part is how angry he gets when you praise him, too.

“Oh Akaza, you’re so mighty and strong!”

You arched your back slightly and pouted, trying to appear more cute or sexy. Your boyfriend crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. You lifted your eyes to look at his face properly. There was no blushing yet, just pure confusion.

“You’re so amazing! The way you dodge every single one of my hits like it’s nothing… Your form is just flawless.”

Finally, you saw how Akaza’s gears began to work inside his mind, processing what your honey-dipped words. He wasn’t sure how to react, his face beginning to heat up slowly. You saw his arm muscles tensed slightly. He was just about to open his mouth and question you if you had hit your head, but you were quicker.

“How do you make it look so effortless? It’s like you’re not even trying and yet you make it look so easy! And attractive nonetheless…”

“What are you up to? Did I hit your head on accident?”

You got up from your position and dusted off your uniform before wrapping your arms around his neck. He let out a nervous grunt, his hands instinctively finding their way to your waist, holding you securely. He was slightly leaning away from you while you leaned into the distance he was creating with a grin.

“I bet if I trained for a thousand years I won’t be able to catch up with your strength, ‘kaza. You’re just so graceful, so strong, so incredible!”

Your sweet revenge finally paid off as Akaza pushed you away gently and hiding his face behind his large palms. He was severely embarrassed and flustered by your compliments. You felt how hot his skin got underneath your touch wich made you giggle and finally stop your antics. You weren’t sure how much your demon could handle anymore.

“Enough, you’re distracting me, idiot.”

“You can’t escape the truth, you’re amazing Akaza!”

He huffed and slightly rolled his eyes before turning his back on you, crossing his arms again.

“Whatever. Training’s over, you can go back to bed now.”

You ruffled his hair slightly and placed a featherlight kiss on his shoulder, making him squirm.

“Only if you join me.”

“Tch, fine.”

🎃

Flufftober prompt: Getting Revenge

Only one week until October ends! I have 28 requests sitting in my inbox, ready to be worked on. I am looking forward to it!! Also, my little trick or treat event is happening soon~

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <3 Thank you for being so patient with me!

My event masterlist and the trick or treat event 🎃

[promise-of-soup]

✩Jiro Kirisaki Affection Headcanons✩

✩Summary: How does Jiro show affection? and also how does he receive affection? well, I got the answers right here in headcanon format for you bbgirl

✩Notes: Fluff, not inherently romantic but yeah?, non-spesific gender or descriptor for the MC, headcanons lol, Jiro :))))

Please request a lot of Jiro stuff literally I will be so happy

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Most Darkwick students think of Jiro Kirisaki as an emotionless husk. That's if they even think of him in the first place, considering how most of them fear him too much to pass judgement on his character. However, Jiro is far from emotionless, and is actually quite the affectionate ghoul, he just shows it in his own unique way.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ꕥ Showing ⋆｡˚ ꕥ˚ ༘♡

The main way his affection is shown is through proximity: he will follow you around as much as he can, often standing very close behind or beside you, people will comment on it, but he will act as if he isn't doing anything out of the ordinary. Similarly, he will take any chance he gets to invite you places, or invite himself places you happen to be going to.

Jiro might seem apathetic but he's actually a lil' bastard: he does annoying thing on purpose in canon all the time, but its hidden well since he acts coy about it.

So long as you don't directly tell him you don't want him to basically be glued to you at all avalible chances, this dude will make sure you are spending nearly all hours of the day with him -- he will sit with you in class, watch you eat lunch, sit in your dorm room, take you to do tasks with him (see: his affinity level home-screen chat where he invites you to go pick flowers with him as per Yuri's request), offer to help you study in Mortkraken (the library is too loud).

Jiro is really into getting reactions out of you, purely because he thinks you're cute, hence he is the type to flustrate you on purpose to see you blush, and then act like he's not done anything.

For example, when standing behind you, he will randomly throw his arms over your shoulders, or if he's doing a health check on you he will lean wayyy too close to your face, in both cases he'll comment on your blushing and be like "Your heartbeat is really fast, are you alright?" as if he didn't want this to happen on purpose.

Eventually, if you are kind to him and try to ensure he gets enough sleep, he will start to find excuses to sleep in your dorm to increase the "effectiveness" of how long it takes him to get there for your morning health checks, he wouldn't need to walk so far if he's just there in the morning, right?

Speaking of health checks, he will do his absolute best to make sure you get way too many of them by raising the concern that Yuri and him have to monitor your health over the course of your missions, so expect him to come check you before, during, and after your missions.

If you're on a mission with him, he will also offer you to sleep in his room, because again, it's more effective than having to walk over to your dorm each morning to pick you up.

This will eventually turn to every night before the anomolous combat lessons -- you're in the same class, this is literally saving so much time for you to sleep in the same place.

Oh- and on sleep, this dude will 100% use the same excuse he does for eating or drinking alone and act like you sleeping next to him makes it easier for him to sleep all of a sudden, and so because you care for his health you gotta cuddle him to sleep too, right? you want him to get enough sleep don't you?

And more on him liking to flustrate you, he'll go shower when you stay over and return without a shirt, and if you blush, that's your fault, he was not doing this on purpose? like?

Do you also mind if he sleeps shirtless? it's kind of warm, and if you're squirming when he cuddles into you, literally not his fault, he was just warm.

He isn't the jealous type, but he is quite territorial, so he uses the same coyness when it comes to scaring away other people.

Look, he's literally next to you as much as he can and nearly always has his hands on you in some type of way, all it takes to scare other people away is for him to shoot them a barely noticeable glace and they're automatically getting the message that you're his.

Especially since he makes you take care of him a lot, there's most likely not a chance people haven't figured out something is going on.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ꕥ Receiving⋆｡˚ ꕥ˚ ༘♡

Speaking of the last point... Jiro has a thing for being taken care of. He will literally ask you to help him with everything he can justify: help him button his shirt up, help him drink water, eat food, stand up, sleep, anything. He's too weak and there's something about you that makes it easier to do those things...

Oh no! he's going to fall over -- help him stabalize by holding him up! he's not doing this just so you hold him or anything like that, he just really needs help because he's feeling unwell :(

That's one of the main ways he flirts, he acts coy about it but does it on purpose.

Even if you figure this out, play along with it and he will legit melt in your hand:

Ruffle his hair up and be like "awww poor Jiro-Kun" and all of a sudden he's feeling even more ill and needs to put his head on your thighs to rest :( You better keep playing with his hair though.

This one is hard to figure out, but he LOVES it if you greet him enthusiastically. He shows up out of the blue and is very hard to predict, other people would be scared to have him suddenly stand behind them, but if you're used to it and like it then turn around and give him a big hug, or even just smile at him and say his name.

I know I said he puts his hands on you a lot, but he's not that physically affectionate in the sense of like, he's most likely not going to move much when he does that, he does, however, want you to take it further.

It's like, he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable so he gives you openers to initiate physical affection, and he's then very happy when or if you do.

So if you put a hand on his shoulder when giving him water, or grab his arms when he throws them over you, or even shuffle closer to him when he sits beside you, he'll be very happy.

When he sleeps over, he loves small acts of affection, like if you put a blanket over him, he will kind of smile in his sleep, which is very cute.

If you manage to slip into his arms when he's already asleep, he will smile even wider and grab you really firmly, he is asleep though so it's not like he was doing it on purpose.

Likes when you call him "cute", or insinuate he's your favourite, because 1. of course he is lol, 2. he might be really tall and big but in his heart he's just a little baby, treat him as such.

He likes if you are clearly not scared of him at all, in fact, he has a big thing for you standing out for him.

Like if someone comments on him always being around you and that being kind of weird, and you become protective and tell them Jiro makes you feel safe, and you like him behind around you all the time, he will stand there blankly but his heart will be doing flip-flops at a dangerous rate.

His favourite thing would be if you grabbed his hand afterwards and said "Let's go Jiro-Kun" and took him away with a pout, he'd be very close to fainting from how fast his heart was going at that point lmfao.

[the-ace-with-spades]

(another unfinished post i found on the way to glasgow - that was the longest train ride in my life - I'm sorry in advance)

When Ice finally passes away, at the age of 73, in his sleep, Bradley moves Mav into their house the same day.

He gets the call in the morning, while trying to simultaneously cook Jake's breakfast and try to make their daughter put on a rain jacket. It's not Mav, but someone from the hospital. Jake doesn't know this — Bradley's face twitches only for a second and then he's back to the nagging, relaxing tone and telling their daughter it's raining and it won't stop. Jake only finds out when he comes back home from the school drop-off and Mav is already there on their couch. Jake doesn't even get the full explanation until that night, just a quick, "Ice passed away overnight."

There's only their three youngest living with them at the time — their 18-year-old daughter who attends UC San Diego, and their 15-year-old son who is still in high school, and their 7-year-old daughter — so Mav takes one of the vacant bedrooms.

The first few nights, Bradley sleeps in the same bed with him. Neither of them looks like they get much sleep. They don't really eat, either, just drink coffee and nibble on the crackers.

The kids start coming back home, and their oldest helps Jake arrange most of the things for the funeral, at least for the first few days. Mav is... numb, not really there, and Jake understands — he would, too, if he woke up one day and his husband died in his sleep next to him. Bradley is silent, mostly, the way he usually rambles to fill out the silence, the way he hums, the way he sings at any given time when there are no words spoken, it's all gone and Jake doesn't know how to fill out the silence either, how to ask, how to make it better without asking.

Bradley doesn't cry, or at least not the way he knows Mav does — he can see Mav's red eyes every morning — but there's something empty in his gaze, in the way his eyes follow Mav and in the way he melts whenever Mav is around, always close, always brushing against him. Mav spaces out a lot, doesn't talk much, doesn't—well, doesn't do much. Every time he tries to help with something, paperwork, the funeral arrangements, the hospital bills, even just sorting out the kids' school leave or Jake's own work leave, he fumbles a bit, not really able to focus on anything for long, and it's like his mind is completely scrambled. Jake doesn't know how to help him — doesn't know if they even can.

The kids, well, did not take it well, as expected. The oldest two try to be brave and help Jake with everything, keep the house going, but their youngest daughter doesn't really understand why her pops isn't back, the middle kids don't understand why now — Ice was in remission, in good health, would go hiking with them once a month, play with them in the backyard, talking about plans for the future with them, nothing that would tell them to expect their pops passing away. Mav and Ice had taken care of all of them for years, while Jake and Bradley were still deployable, and helping out as much as they could. Ice was a huge part of their lives, since the very beginning.

Bradley is certainly not doing any better but one couldn't be able to tell if they didn't know him well enough. He's always been more for packing his feelings into a tight neat box, compartmentalizing until there is too much and it all overflows in some explosive way. His focus is mostly on Mav and the kids, trusting Jake to take care of anything he can't.

Jake can't even ask him how he's doing until the night before the funeral.

Mav tells Bradley he wants to be alone that night and Bradley lands in their bedroom.

He acts normal — checks the kids are in bed, checks on Mav, prepares stuff for breakfast in the morning, has a shower. Only when he sits down in their bed, their dress blues, cleaned and pressed sitting on the hangers hooked up on their wardrobe, right in front of him—only then he freezes, a blank stare still on the uniforms.

Jake sits down next to him on the bed. "Talk to me, Bradley."

"I knew it was going to happen at some point, I just," "I just thought we would have a few more years."

Bradley sleeps curled up on his chest — he sleeps the whole night, soundlessly, and Jake is almost settled.

Almost. Mav is a couple doors down, alone.

Ice's been—had been retired many years now, but he had been high enough in the ranks that the Navy still insists on making a military funeral. Jake tried to take away as much of the flashy bullshit as possible, but there are still things leftover — the sailors with the flag, the flyover. But there's no one who wasn't close with the family at the ceremony, there's no speeches, and no one tries to hand either Mav or Bradley a flag.

The wake has an even smaller amount of people, all packed in their house — Mav hasn't been at his own house since — and thanks to Slider, mostly, and his 'the bastard wouldn't want us to mope around', it's less sad and quiet.

Mav eats two slices of cake, which is the most Jake's seen him eat since, and even laughs at some stories about Ice people are exchanging.

Ice had a good life. A big family. A big happy family that loved him.

But life goes on without him. Jake goes back to work first, then the kids have to go back to school, then Bradley has to back to work. After a couple of days alone at their house, Mav starts bringing up moving back to his own house.

He's not really doing great. He's still quiet, still spaces out more often than not, still forgets himself sometimes, still freezes whenever he tries to say something and the we he uses is one person short. He's—lifeless, for a lack of better word, and seems like he's noticing it now that Bradley isn't with him most of the waking hours.

"That is our home," Mav tells them. "I can't abandon it forever, I'd be abandoning him, too, if I—"

Jake—Jake gets it. He doesn't like it, but he gets it.

Bradley's been fielding off any suggestions of Mav moving out but he's pretty sure that soon Mav is going to pack his stuff and up and leave without asking for permission.

"If he wants to move back home, we can't exactly hold him here. against his will."

"Jake," Bradley says. "I feel like—if we let Mav go back there alone, he's going to die of a broken heart and I won't have either of them anymore."

"Sweetheart—"

"I know it's selfish," he interrupts, "but I can't lose him, too. Not now."

Jake can't make Mav stay with them — so he finds the best solution he can and instead, they all move in with Mav. Hell with it, he's going to try to get everyone to live their lives to the end. They'd done it before, Mav, Ice, Bradley, Jake and their two kids under one roof, when their oldest two were their only two kids.

The two of them and two of their youngest; two of their kids move into their house so they don't have to sell it.

Mav lives on. They try to occupy his mind by throwing their youngest at him — ask him to take her to school, pick her up from school, take her to her gymnastics class, do her homework with her, teach her how to play piano. The other kids pick up on it, too, and their high schoolers would wrap Mav into doing math workbooks with them, or ask him to drive them to their friends' house, and the kids that have moved out ask Mav to go to lunch together or call him to ask him things about car and house repairs that don't exist.

Mav gets brighter every day. Never as bright as before, but no longer so numb.

Their daughter ends up never moving out and so do they.

They all get older but Mav holds up pretty well. He does break his hip when trying to wash the windows, had a limp and terrible back ache ever since, had to stop driving because he can't see shit, had to stop piloting even sooner, and his memory is also shit, but Jake is pretty sure his cholesterol is lower than his own and he has better blood pressure than Bradley. Bradley and Mav are the ones cooking after all, Jake is the one eating all the tasty but not healthiest food, and Mav's life revolves around spoiling his cute great-grandkids and Bradley's is filled with the constant stress of managing Navy's top flying school.

For his ninetieth birthday, Mav flies a fighter jet as a passenger, the oldest person to ever do that — his youngest granddaughter is the one to take him up in the air, a junior grade lieutenant herself. They have a birthday party held at their house, Mav falls asleep in the armchair, Bradley makes fun of him and promptly falls asleep on the couch, too. Jake loves them both so much and still kind of can't believe he has this — house full of grown-up kids and grandkids of his own, his graying husband of over thirty years, his father-in-law coming to an age he wanted to see his mother at.

They're cleaning up, their two daughters who still don't have kids and didn't need to go home helping, and Mav tells them he's going to get some fresh air on their veranda. "I've got a terrible headache," is all he says.

Half an hour passes, they've packed all the clean and dirty dishes, and Bradley huffs to himself. "He fell asleep on the bench again, didn't he," and goes outside.

Bradley shouts for him in less than a minute. The ambulance is there in eight. Within the half-hour and a CT scan in the hospital, the neurologist tells them Mav is too far gone to survive the day. Within six hours, every single person from their family has come to say goodbye. When they pass the seven hours mark, Jake stands up from the plastic chair behind Bradley — he's not about to tell Bradley he should rest, but he's been holding Mav's hand since the minute they admitted Mav to the ward and hasn't eaten or drunk anything all day. He tells him he'll go grab them a coffee and bagels and gets a little nod and a smile.

Jake comes back twenty minutes later and Bradley doesn't even look up from where he's gripping Mav's hand.

"Can you get the nurse for me?"