#if you’re mind is ever saying you don’t need a reference you’ve got this

[stories-in-the-wind]

Humming and hawing over my January illustration

[danveration]

Sleep well, amour Pt. 2

Parings: Alastor x reader

Summary: After falling asleep to his voice, you wake up and get confronted by Alastor. Later, you walk in on him sleeping.

Word count: 1523

Warnings: Mention of Alastor eating and k*lling a deer

part one

A/N: PART TWO IS HERE!!! I had SO many options wracking my brain on where to take this, but I picked this one! I hope you all enjoy it :’) let me know if you have any feedback, I’d love to hear it. Also, I’m currently working on all the requests I got :) as well as part 2 to that-no-good-first-man-on-earth

You wake up, blinking and looking around. Momentarily forgetting where you are.

Shit. You fell asleep in Alastor’s recording room. Thankfully, he isn’t here right now.

Before you could get up, you notice a purple blanket on you. It seems to be the one that was on his coat hanger. Did Alastor put this on you..? The thought has you smiling and your cheeks reddening.

Alastor’s voice sure does have an effect on you. You look outside to see what time it is, but remember that it’s Hell and the sky is always the same shade of red. You’re going to have to get used to that.

Getting up, you put the blanket back on the hanger and look around some more. It feels some-what intimate right now to be in his space when he’s not around. You wonder how long you’ve been asleep for.

You walk over to his table and notice a red “play” button on his radio equipment and are tempted to press it. It surely won’t cause any harm to hear what he was talking about when you were asleep. You press it and listen.

“Haha! For any sinner, I know it’s a tempting question. But I-“ The recording fast forwards. “Nevertheless, I find it quite amusing that this technology box thinks he is on any sort of level to me! Call me crazy but the sinners have been taaallkinggg, and they think he sounds quite obsessed.” He laughs, knowing Vox is probably listening.

You smile at his voice and find it funny how he is a bit of a drama queen when it comes to his radio broadcasts. You know deep down he doesn’t actually care about the whole situation with Vox, but it’s still funny how he entertains it.

Looking to your right, you see a mug that has “Oh Deer” written on it. There seems to be a bit of black coffee still left in the mug. The “deer” reference made you giggle. You’ve always wondered about his past and how exactly he is part deer anyhow. Oh well, It’ll reveal itself with time.

You’re looking at all the other buttons on his equipment, wondering what they do, when all of a sudden you hear light footsteps on the other side of the door. It’s most likely Alastor. Nobody would willingly go to his room without permission.

The door opens slowly and in steps Alastor. You notice how he opened the door quietly, to not make make much noise. As he still assumed you were asleep. You smiled at that.

He looks ahead and sees you, immediately smiling. “Ah! My dear. You’re awake!” He claps his hands together, his cane leaning on his side.

“Hey Al. Um.. about what happened I-“ You start.

“Ah, ah! No need to explain yourself, sweetheart! Don’t go giving yourself a headache.” He cuts in and laughs.

He looks down at you and says, “you just find comfort in my voice, don’t you?” He asks, with a smug smile.

Your eyes go wide and you stutter. Of course it wasn’t the most secretive thing. Still, you didn’t think he actually knew.

“U-um. Well..” You say.

He tilts his head to side as if saying, “Go on…”

There’s really no getting out of this. Plus, you don’t think Alastor would actually care. He’d probably just find it funny.

“Yeah, I do.” You admit. “I find comfort in your voice, of course I do! I just.. I don’t know.”

You aren’t sure what to say, it’s a tad embarrassing.

Alastor begins to laugh.

“I certainly could tell! I find it quite amusing if I do say so myself.” He says.

He definitely doesn’t mind it, he has a soft spot for you. But he’s also a bit confused on why you even do. He knows his radio voice is unique, but nobody ever commented on it bringing them comfort. They usually scream and run away when they hear him. You’ve been there long enough to see him kill and do so many things that people describe as “horrible, satanic, terrifying” but you still find comfort in him nevertheless? He thinks it’s absolutely adorable!

“Amusing?” You ask.

He nods and says, “Amusing, darling! I mean.. you know who I am, do you not?” He laughs and continues. “Though you still find comfort.. now that’s an interesting fact, don’t you think?”

You shy away, looking anywhere but him. You’re comfortable around him, of course, but you’re a tiny but embarrassed of this whole situation. You know he is definitely loving his though.

He places a finger on your jaw and guides your head back to look at him.

“Uh, uh, dear. There’s no need to feel shy! I never said it was a bad thing. I’m truly honoured!” He says, smiling down at you.

You and him have been getting to know each other for a while now and you’ve just been going deeply and deeply more interested in him. You almost laugh at yourself because you sometimes act as if you did when you alive, how you obsessed over fictional characters and “fan fiction.”

You look at him and say, “Well, that’s good then.” You chuckle.

“Mm, it is isn’t it?” He says.

He thinks you’re absolutely pathetic, but in a good way. He wouldn’t let anything hurt you, this new sensation is something he never wants to get rid of.

———————————————————————

Later that day, Charlie wanted you to pass a message on to Alastor about the hotel reservations. You knew he was in his room because he mentioned that if you needed him, he’d be in there having some dinner (aka, deer). Which he has in his half room half forest. You really wonder how on earth he even did that. The wonders of being a radio demon!

You’re at his door, lightly knocking. You wait a few seconds but you don’t hear anything from the other side.

“Al?” You question while knocking again.

“Hm.” You think.

You aren’t sure if you should go in or not. Sure, the thing Charlie told you about could wait but you also wanted to make sure he was okay. What if he.. choked or something? You’re sure the radio demon could handle that but you just want to make sure.

“Al, I’m coming in.. okay?” You say while knocking once more.

You slowly twist the knob and push the door open. Peaking in, you see him on the other side of the room, in a chair.

“Alastor, are you alr-“ You stop yourself when you notice his eyes are closed.

Closing the door behind you, you walk up to him.

He’s currently sitting in the chair, his arm on the table and his head resting on his hand. He looks so peaceful. His mouth isn’t smiling and his face just looks so.. relaxed. You’ve never saw him like this before. He mumbles occasionally and his ears twitch every so often as he sleeps. You aren’t sure how he finds this position comfortable, but you smile at it nonetheless.

You don’t want to disturb him so you leave, now relaxed that you know he’s okay.

Right before you grab the knob of the door, you hear, “Y/n?”

You whip your head back and you see him standing up, looking at you with his smile.

“Did you need something, dear?” He asks, as if he wasn’t just dead asleep a second ago.

Of course, it makes sense he is a light sleeper.

“O-oh, no. Charlie just wanted me to tell you that the renovations went well and that the guys who inspect the place will be here tomorrow!” You say. “Sorry if I disturbed you.”

“Ahh, alright! And nonsense! You couldn’t disturb me.” He says.

You look at him and smile.

“You know, you could join me if you want! I was just resting and then going to have some dinner.” He offers.

You perk up but then remember that Husk assigned you a task of picking up crates of whiskey for the bar.

“Shit, sorry. I can’t. I have to go get more alcohol for the bar.” You say with a frown.

“More? If I remember correctly, we just got new shipments in.. last week?” He says with a laugh. “Though I’m not surprised we ran out again. Husker is a busy man. Well, my dear. Some other time, then!”

You notice him looking back into the forest, eyeing a deer.

“Yeah, some other time.” You smile. “Have a good dinner, Alastor!”

He smiles back at you says, “Oh I will.” He chuckles, his radio eyes making an appearance as he looks back the deer.

“You have yourself a lovely day, sweetheart!” He says with a wave.

“You too!” Waving back, you then open the door and leave. Once you leave you hear shrieking on the other side of the door, definitely the deer that Al was eyeing.

You’re excited to have more encounters with him, and even take him up on the dinner offer! You remember him mentioning he wanted to introduce you to his friend, Rosie. You’re looking forward to it.

[leaawrites]

Dreams of forbidden territory

Lando Norris x fem!reader

Summary: one dream and feelings will be spilled from both sides.

Warnings: Sexual content (really minimum but still, 18+, mdni), sexual reference, Best Friend's sister, reader is insecure of her legs, this is probably the smuttiest I'll ever write.

Wordcount: 3.3k

Masterlist

His teeth scraped down her hips. His hands were placed on her waist, holding her down. Low humming sounds vibrating on her skin making her moan in the quiet. He looked up at her, squeezing her flesh under his hands in disapproval.

“Gotta keep quiet, princess,” he told her, tatting her at her behavior. “Can’t have him find out.”

The scene replayed on her mind ever since she woke up from it. Trying to wrap her mind around who he meant - who wasn’t supposed to find out? - but then it hit her. Max, her brother. He couldn’t find out she had a sex dream about his best friend. The best friend who was now sat opposite her, eating his breakfast in peace. He noticed her staring but he ignored it, thinking she was annoyed at him again.

Truth been told, she was. If there was anything that made her annoyed at him was that nothing after that sequence she saw happened. When she tried falling asleep again, it didn’t work. She couldn’t escape into the dream again. Not even her own creativity was capable to figure out how it would’ve ended. She didn’t know what he was like, she also couldn’t make up her mind as to what he might be like.

“You’ve got a staring problem or something?” Lando asked, making her snap out of her trance.

Blinking at him before muttering a soft ‘sorry’ and going back to her own food. He looked at her confused, normally she would roll her eyes and say something in a sarcastic manner to him. But not today, and not until the end of the week.

It was always just him catching her staring at him or somewhere in the room for a long time, then she would say sorry and act like he caught her in an embarrassing situation. Like she smashed a plate that he considered his favourite or like she accidentally was the reason for one of his races failing.

Even Max noticed, asking Lando about it but he couldn’t give him more of an answer than, “I don’t know, mate. Maybe she just needs some time. Let her be.” They agreed ro wait until Sunday to ask her, both convinced that she would act normal by then. But the time they gave her was up and she still avoided him.most of the time.

The image was printed in her mind, never leaving her alone. He was always there, whether it be physically or in her daydreams. She saw them together everywhere. Not just fucking but also cuddling, sharing kisses, joking around together. She watched him from her seat around the pool. Watched his arms move smoothly through the water, but all she could think about them in the water together. Laughing and play fighting.

Max sat down next to her, without her noticing, observing her staring at Lando. A few other friends sat around the pool as well and more than enough times, Lando’s swimming session was stopped by one of the talking to him. He answered while swimming until even his stamina was used up and he leaned against the edge of the pool to talk to them.

“You’re not being very subtle,” Max commented, making her jump in surprise at his sudden appearance. She really didn’t notice him sitting down next to her.

“What are you talking about?” She asked, her face looking back towards the book in her lap, though her eyes still slipped up towards the man in the water now and then. Her lips pulling themselves up as he laughed. The sound ringing through the air, finding it’s way to her heart once again.

“You like him, clearly.” Max looked away from her towards Lando, seeing the boys own eyes falling onto his sister as he climbed out of the pool and sat down next to a friend. “Tell him.”

The girl’s mouth flew open in shock at the suggestion. “Definitely not.”

“Why not?” Max continued asking, nudging her arm with his elbow.

The girl was silent for a moment. Why not? It was a simple question, which required a simple answer. “He most likely doesn’t like me back.”

“You don’t know that.” He knew, trying to get your sister and your best friend dating wasn’t the ideal plan for him, but he knew Lando and even though the boy was reckless most times and a playboy to say the least, he also saw the side of him that was caring and kind and loving. He knew him longer than anyone and he knew that Lando cared for his sister. Even without asking he would know, simply from the way he spoke to her and the way he looked at her. But none of the two would say anything. They were playing it safe and Max finally had enough.

“Alright,” he finally answered, shrugging and standing up. Walking over towards Lando and his other friend, joining their conversation.

Why not?

The day was nearing an end, the sun setting over the Portuguese landscape. A orange pink sky forming above her. Y/n watched the sky as it changed colors, she watched them appear and fade. She watched them reemerge and wished she could be as pretty as the sky. Whether it was day or night - rainy or sunny - it always looked pretty.

A knock was heard outside the door and she though about sending whoever was stood there away, but she knew she couldn’t. May made plans for a restaurant and they were probably already waiting for her.

Stepping back inside the room, Y/n saw Lando leaning against the door frame, watching her. She moved her head to the side, asking him what he was doing here in silence. It had always been like this. They would communicate without talking, always knowing what the other was saying.

“Max told me to call you down,” he explained. They were in fact running a bit behind schedule, but Lando didn’t seemed faced by it.

“OK, tell him I’ll be right there,” she said, walking over to the mirror, expecting him to go, and flattening out the long flowy skirt she chose.

He was still watching her.

“Why are you always wearing long skirts?” Lando asked all of a sudden.

She locked eyes with him through the mirror, furrowing her eyebrows in need of an explanation to his question. Which he gladly gave, truly interested.

“I mean, even at the beach you wear a long cover up. And when we go out you always wear long pants or skirts or dresses. Why don’t you wear a pair of shorts or a short skirt when it’s half burning outside?” He asked, taking a step closer to her.

Y/n frowned. She owned shorts and short dresses and skirts but she never thought they looked good. Was he implying the long looked good neither? Did nothing look good on her? Is that what he was saying?

Lando could see the thoughts entering her brain. The bad ones. The ones that made him want to love her even more.

Walking behind her, Lando put his hands on the fabric of her skirt, taking as much of it in his hands as he could and making it shorter with every second, until he reached her upper thighs. Holding it there, he looked at her now exposed legs. If he pulled it even higher he was sure he could get a glimpse of her underwear, but he wouldn’t do that. Not without knowing how she would feel about it first.

“It’s looking good,” he whispered, before letting the fabric fall again and stepping back from her. What he wouldn’t do to show her just how beautiful she truly was. What he wouldn’t do to make her see herself the way he sees her. If it wasn’t for Max she would already be his. But Lando knew, that if he made a move Max would surely make sure they would never see each other again. He didn’t want that. So, he sat quietly, watching from the sidelines when he met her in a club or they were out in the same friend group, flirting with other guys that couldn’t even treat her half as good as he could.

For a moment she couldn’t believe she was alive, breathing. Her mind stopped functioning the moment he stood behind her, his hands on her legs for a second before exposing her legs. Looking at the closet in her room and remembering the one short piece she brought to the trip. She would wear that sometime probably now, making sure he was there to see. But now they had to go.

Both appearing together at the bottom of the steps, Max rolled his eyes at the pair. “What have you been doing there so long?” He asked, receiving a smirk from Lando in return, but he knew nothing happened. At least nothing too sexual. Y/n hid her face from Max, still blushing at the simple touch from Lando.

“Ready to eat?” Pietra asked from the door, Max’s car keys dangling in between her fingers. The others already drove to the restaurant, making sure their reservation wouldn’t blow off. Leaving the four to arrive later. With Max driving, Pietra normally sat in the front though now, she climbed in the backseat, pulling Y/n with her, much to Lando’s demise.

On the way to the place, Pietra opened the notes app on her phone titling the new file: Wtf happened in your room?

Handing it over to the girl, Y/n looked at her with a smile at first, deciding whether she should tell her or not, but eventually she gave in, writing every detail down. From the leaning against the door frame and the staring to the words he spoke. She told her everything. And she watched while Pietra read it, slower than she hoped, her mouth wide open in shock by the end of it.

Quickly she tipped something back. Handing the phone over again, Y/n read: Holy shitttttttt. That boy’s in love with you, I swear. Make sure to remind me to buy you more short pieces.

Y/n rolled her eyes, giving the phone back and turning away from the blonde, looking out the window.

The place was nice. Filled completely. No table was empty and when Max said his name to the girl at the entrance, she made a move for them to follow her. It was also minimal spacious, making them all walk in a line behind each other. Lando’s hand almost immediately made it’s way towards her back whenever they walked past a group of guys or a tight space. It was almost a regular touch for them, but ever since that night she couldn’t think straight. And a once innocent touch now made her mind wander to different things. Like how he would push her body down at the same place on her back while he fucked her from behind.

Quickly blinking the thoughts away, she didn’t even notice that they arrived at the table, or how Lando caught her snapping out of something, looking uncomfortable all of a sudden.

“You okay?” He asked, leaning closer to her ear in order for the others not to hear. Although they were focused on their own conversation, you never knew when someone was eavesdropping.

The girl jumped slightly at his voice so near to her ear, his breath grazing her skin softly. It was warm against her cold flesh.

She nodded, avoiding his eyes. She didn’t want to know which thoughts would enter her mind while looking into his eyes.

Lando furrowed his eyebrows, she was still avoiding him the way she did most of the week now. It made him almost furious. Why wouldn’t she look at him? Did he do something wrong? Was it something he said? Placing his hand on her thigh he tried to get her attention back, but she wouldn’t give it to him. Shuffling a bit away from him to let him know he better take his hand away from her. Which he did. But not without even more questions on his mind. What the fuck was that about now?

For the whole evening, Y/n avoided Lando, conversing with people longer than him that she didn’t even know half as good as him.

Pietra watched them, as did Max, and both looked at each other, knowing something was definitely wrong. But what was it?

“Hey Y/n?” Pietra called over the table, catching the girls attention, as well as Lando’s. “What do you say, I give you 10 pounds of you take one of the guys over there on the table home.” She pointed towards one of the tables to their right.

A group of young, fairly attractive men sat there. One was turning towards their table almost every second, looking at her. Everyone at their table looked at her expectantly, waiting for an answer. But not Lando. He had his gaze fixed on the table, especially the dude staring at her. His girl. But not really. It was his fault she wasn’t his, so who was he to say something against a bet? It was just a bet, he tried to calm himself down, nothing else. Just a bet.

She wanted to say yes, to take one of them home and make her forget for even just one night. But then she felt his hand against her leg again. Not because he placed it there on purpose, but because it simply slipped there. Before he noticed himself, she felt his hand almost trembling against her leg. Apologizing as he noticed, pulling it back immediately. Would it be a normal night he would’ve let it sit there. Though nothing seemed normal anymore. At least not until they got back from this vacation. Lando would go back to traveling the world, barely thinking of her other than when Max mentioned her once or maybe even twice. Y/n would go back to her own job, her own place. Her own life. Should she really accept P’s offer?

“Not for 10 pounds, babe,” Y/n answered, making Pietra scoff at her behavior. Looking over at Lando’s hand, laying in his lap, she saw it stopped shaking. And she saw him inhale deeply like he held his breath for the last seconds. This wasn’t all because of the possibility of her going home with someone else, was it?

As they finished up and payed all their part, Lando made his way towards Max’s car, with Max hanging from his shoulder, drunk. Y/n couldn’t believe he got drunk that quick. Laughing whenever he tripped over his own feet, almost taking Lando down with him.

“Stop laughing,” Lando told her, but she didn’t. She simply couldn’t. “Open the door,” he ordered to her, standing in front of the back seat door.

“Yes, sir,” she said in a jokingly manner.

Unlocking the car and opening the door, she heard him mutter: “Fuck, don’t say that when your brother’s here.”

She stopped moving for a second, before continuing opening the door and quickly climbing in the passenger seat, praying Pietra was the one driving. But when the blonde opened the other back seat door, Y/n knew she was fucked. Lando climbed into the driver seat and started the car, not acknowledging what he said, praying she didn’t hear him.

But she did. And God, how clear it was in her ears.

They drove back home, embracing the evening air. Low music was coming from the stereo, Y/n’s Spotify playlist she made for Lando and herself years ago. Mostly Taylor Swift, but also some other pieces. Humming the melody to every song and singing a few lines every now and then until they arrived.

Lando stared at her in awe whenever he heard her voice, and though she didn’t notice, Pietra clearly did. Sending him a smirk when he looked in the rear view. He sighed quietly, he was down bad. For someone he shouldn’t like more than his best friend’s little sister.

Getting Max into bed was a horror. Pietra was already somewhat of a pro in it, though she still appreciated the help she received from the other two. Telling them goodnight before shoeing the pair out in the quiet, dark hallway.

“I’m gonna go to bed now,” Y/n said, pointing towards her room and start walking. Ignoring his gaze once again. Closing the door behind her.

Before Lando could stop himself, or even think about what he was doing, he followed her steps. Opening the door and stepping into the room. He didn’t think of the possibility of her already undressing herself, getting ready for bed, until he saw her, standing with her back towards him in only her shirt and panties. A black lace garment.

“Fuck,” he breathed out at the sight of her.

Y/n turned around, her eyes wide, backing away from him, but he already saw what she tried to hide. He was staring at her legs.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Lando,” the girl said, turning around again. Her face hot. She couldn’t face him now, not like this. “What are you doing here? You know there’s something called knocking,” she lectured him, making him chuckle.

“I’m not mad about it.” Fuck it, he thought, if this was it now, at least he saw her how he always desired to see her.

“What?” She asked, turning her head around to look at him, trying to catch his eyes, but she wasn’t able to. His eyes were definitely not fixed on the back of her head.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” He blurted out, only now remembering what he came for.

“I’m not avoiding you,” she defended herself, knowing that wasn’t the truth. She didn’t want to, but she had to.

“Darling, don’t act like I’m stupid,” he told her. Her bottom lip slipping between her teeth at the nickname, her eyes closing for a second.

What did she have to lose now? He stood in her bedroom with her half naked, staring at her ass without much shyness. There had to be something in his feelings towards her, right?

“I had a dream,” she confessed, looking at the wall.

“What did you dream?” He asked absentmindedly.

“Your teeth were moving down my hips,” she said, making him close his eyes to see the image she painted in front of his eyes. “And you told me to keep quiet.”

“Why did I tell you that? Would wanna hear your pretty sounds every day.” There was no room for any form of uncomfortably now between them. They were simply honest and needy.

“Because of Max.” At his mention Lando’s eyes opened again. Right, that’s why he usually overthought everything with her.

The silence was deafening and she knew that that was the wrong thing to say in that moment. She was sure she was back to being little Y/n, the sister of his best friend. Nothing more.

His hands found her waist, pulling her closer. Y/n gasped at the contact, holding her breath. His lips were traveling down her neck. She moved her head to give him more skin to cherish.

“If you don’t say anything, I won’t too,” he told her, turning her to press their fronts together. His pinky sticking in front of her face for her to take. She did. Taking his hand in hers after that and putting two of his fingers into her mouth, sucking on them slowly, making him groan in pleasure.

“I’ll treat you so nice, I promise,” Lando whispered, before taking his fingers from her mouth and capturing her lips with his. Walking backwards and letting them sink on the mattress slowly.

[wandaslittleweirdo]

Liar

part 1: precious || masterlist

⋆⋆౨ৎ pairing: 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚣𝚢!𝚐𝚏!𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚊 ༝༝ 𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

summary: The truth always comes to light, even if the liar has done everything in their power to try and keep you from it.

warnings: dubcon, smut, mind control, top!wanda, manipulation/gaslighting, drama tehe, strap usage (R recieving), voyeurism, strap blowjob (W recieving), reader sucks wandas fingers (can you tell I have insane oral fixation?), pet names, small mix of praise kink and degradation kink, dom/sub dynamics, overstimulation, strap referred to as dick, Stockholm syndrome, age gap > r is 20 w is 32

A/N: this is absolute filth. but fics r all about imagination and having fun, no one will ever stop me from sharing my disgusting thoughts with the internet

+

this is a dark fic. 18+. wlw. men & minors dni!

⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘

It’s been two months since the night of your abduction. You’ve been staying with Wanda and have never been happier.

You remember the day you woke up in her cabin. You were frightened and confused, but she was patient and her peaceful nature soothed you. She carefully explained everything, why you were in her cabin, why you could barely walk, and why you had that cut on your cheek.

You were attacked and chased into the woods. She was your knight and shining armour who had found you laying unconscious in the crunchy autumn leaves while she was hunting. You also vividly recall saying you’d do anything to show how thankful you are, her lips pulling into a big goofy smile.

“Anything, you say?”

And it all just went up from there.

The thought of your life before Wanda never crossed your mind. She always kept you on your toes. One day you’re hiking up mountains with her and the next she’s teaching you how to shoot her shotgun.

“Bam! You got all of the targets first try! That was incredible, Y/N.”

But you didn’t need shooting a gun or slumping your way up mountains to feel like you’re on your toes. Cooking dinner together, watching new shows, going to sleep tangled in each others arms or swimming in the nearby waterfall was just as invigorating, because she made it so.

Wanda took you in and loved you. She feeds you, she shelters you, she protects you. She makes you feel safe and treats you like a princess.

Throughout your bliss, there was only one thing that constantly bothered you. A frustrated thought you kept trying to shove away, but would always float back at some point.

You weren’t allowed to leave the cabin.

Of course, the hunting and the walks were okay, but you could never see what was going on outside of the woods unless it was through the news or Wanda herself. You couldn’t step foot out of the house without Wanda following close behind. When you really acknowledge it, you describe the feeling as if you’re on display, constantly being spied on and never having the privacy every human craves.

Whenever you bring up the fact that she watches you or follows you at seemingly unnecessary times, she explains that it would be rude if you told her she’s being invasive when she’s just protecting you.

She also claims everything outside of the woods is disgusting and you aren’t missing out. She says people are cold and heartless, nothing but a bunch of soul dead blobs walking in their black and white reality everyday.

But in the most peaceful moments, like right now where your arms are wrapped around her torso and your legs tied around one of hers, imitating the position of a clingy koala, everything else doesn’t seem to matter. She gently rakes her hand through your hair and randomly pinches your cheeks, but both sets of eyes remain on the TV.

“You’re lucky, Y/N. We have so much fun together, no one ever goes out and does things anymore! Trust me. Nothing out there is as good as what’s here.”

You reminisce the conversation you had with her the other day, your heart warming as her persuasive words echo through your mind.

Wanda’s right. This is good… I don’t need anyone but her.

“Sweetheart, I have to go to the store. We don’t have any milk or bread.” She taps the top of your head gently, silently asking you to sit up but you only whine and clutch onto her harder. You rub your nose into her soft v neck sweater, feeling her stomach tense as she lets out a dry laugh. “Come on, angel. I’m just getting milk I’ll be home before you know it.”

“That’s what my dad said.” You murmur into the wool. She gasps playfully at your humour, a tiny smile on her lips as she flicked the back of your head in an act to scold you. “Don’t joke about stuff like that miss!”

“No! It’s how I cope.” You rub the back of your head and pout at her, reluctantly sitting up onto your knees while an unhappy crease sits itself between your brows. Her smile widens as she gazes at you, nothing but adoration swimming in those viridescent irises.

She pushes your dishevelled hair out of your face and leans in slowly, eyes fixated on your lips. Her kiss is as gentle as ever, her fingers curling around the back of your neck to pull you closer. Every complaint you were ready to throw at her suddenly slips your mind, and all you can think about is how soft her lips feel moving against yours. The hair framing her face smells of her green apple shampoo, a specific something you grew to obsess over.

“Oookay, have to go now.” She pulls back and swiftly puts herself on her feet. She happily escorts herself over to the door to grab her coat and slip her shoes on, the cocky smile never leaving her face.

You fall face forward into the couch while making various irritated and disapproving grumbles. She slides her arms through the sleeves of her jacket, her smile distorting into a sort of impish grin when she specifically hears the words,

“You’re evil, Wanda.”

“Maybe, but you love it.” She laughs softly before slinging her purse over her shoulder and opening the door.

“See you soon, princezná!” You huff at the sound of the door shutting followed by the click of the lock. You could continue to watch a movie… or you could go into your girlfriends closet and steal her clothes.

Excitement starts brewing inside of you as you spring up from the couch and run into your shared bedroom. You yank the closet door open, taking the sleeve of one of her hoodies and rubbing your face into it. The faint smell of sandalwood and a sweet-spicy cinnamon still lingers on it, and now all you can think of is drowning yourself in the mouth watering autumn scent.

You pluck out a red flannel shirt and a dark blue pair of jeans. But as you flip through her many pieces of clothing, a cardboard box in the corner of her top shelf catches your eye. You frown and push yourself onto your tippy toes, groaning and stretching your limbs until you could finally grasp the package.

The box is covered in a thin layer of dust indicating it hasn’t been touched in a while. You giggle excitedly, box in hand as you run over to your shared bed and make yourself comfortable.

We tell each other everything, she must have some dirty secrets in here..

You place your hand on the lid of the laptop, prepared to open it until a sting of guilt stops you. Your excitement fades into adrenaline as you nervously tap your foot against the carpeted floor.

She’ll tell me about this eventually, right?

But she’s had so many opportunities to say something…

Fuck it.

A puzzled expression takes over your features seeing the computer had only nine screens open. They’re all at least 360p, tv static glitching out a video every five or so seconds. Then you notice where the cameras were pointing too. One in Wanda’s room, one covering the area of her living room, one facing towards the kitchen and the others scattered around outside.

Security cameras?

Your eyes flicker to the red circle flashing in the top left corner of the screen, the capital letters “LIVE” typed in next to it. Then, just below that, an even smaller text with todays date. You click it and a list of options pop up, scrolling down and seeing she installed them in 2015.

You excitedly flip back to two months ago, the day you and Wanda met. You can watch your love unfold all over again but now from a different perspective.

You giddily scrub through the timeline and watch yourself wander around outside, then fast forwarding again until Wanda walks to the door and opens it to you. Your brows pinch together; you don’t seem hurt at all and you’re clearly not unconscious. In fact, you seem wary of her.

Your curiosity heightens as you quietly observe yourself take a seat on her couch and sit there, tapping your lap awkwardly. You skip further ahead and stop when you see Wanda jump onto you. Your hand flies over your mouth, the sickening realisation starting to dawn on you.

She lied to me…

How did I forget everything?

You drag the little dot further through the video, your heart thudding in your ears. A red glow in the darkness of her room causes the frown on your face to deepen and you to scroll back.

You almost forget how to breathe when you see red wisps escape the fingertips of your beloved girlfriend, the red seeping it’s way through the side of your forehead and infecting your unconscious mind.

She does this continuously for minutes, destroying every thought in your head. Your opinions, beliefs and judgments so she can start off with a clean canvas. Everything from your old life comes rushing back, your memories flashing at you like big bright billboards on 2x speed.

Your childhood, your parents divorcing, your bullies in high school and more specifically— the night you met Wanda. Surrounded by tall, thin, white bark trees as the echo of your own voice called after something or someone named Daisy. The disorientation and utter sadness you felt wandering aimlessly. The anxiety you felt in the pit of your stomach while walking up to Wanda’s cabin. Everything that happened that night, including her handing you the drink to then ordering you to put it down.

Clover-

Frankie?

Daisy…

Wanda.

“Y/N! I’m back!” You gasp, quickly blinking away the tears that rimmed your eyes. You slam the computer shut and shove it in its box, clumsily dropping the lid back on and running to put it back into her closet.

You just shut the door when Wanda’s voice startles you from the doorway.

“You okay honey? You look shaken.” You take a step back when she advances, almost like a reflex or a flinch, and it does not go unnoticed by her. She squints ever so slightly, her head tipping to the side.

I don’t know this woman. I need to leave. Now.

“Yeah I’m okay I just.. stubbed my toe.” She tuts, walking over to you and snakes her arms around your waist. “Aww, my poor baby. I bought strawberries though, will that cheer you up?” She whispers into your head and you melt, fingers twitching against the material of her soft coat.

My Wanda..

“T-Thank you, Wands.” This is Wanda. The loving, beautiful and generous Wanda you fell for. But she erased your whole life so she could cage you and keep you for herself.

Don’t get swayed by strawberries! Focus!

She whispers a sweet I love you before kissing your head and turning around. She picks up a thick knitted cardigan laying on the bed and throws it to you. “It’s cold, put this on and I’ll go light a fire.”

She waltzes out of the door and down the short hallway, leaving you a big, confused ball of nerves.

~

Wanda switches on the TV and invites you to sit next to her. You don’t say anything and accept, seating yourself by her no matter how on edge you feel because Wanda knows you. She can tell when you’re hiding something, and if you don’t want to sit next to her after begging her to stay home, something is obviously wrong.

Wanda watches the movie like she normally would. Laughing here and there, playing with your hair or placing a friendly hand on your thigh. You on the other hand have no idea what’s happening in the movie because your mind is racing with thoughts on what you should be doing.

Do I confront her? Do I run away? Do I stay and act like I don’t know anything?

“Hey Wands?” You say without thinking, immediately regretting your words and curse at yourself for acting so impulsively. She hums, eyes still focused on the tv.

“If I asked you a question… would you answer truthfully?”

“Of course, I always do.” She answers, her voice soft with a hint of worry as she pointed the remote at the television to shut it off. You want to believe her over what your own eyes saw, you wish you had never touched or opened that box. Everything would’ve stayed perfect. But sadly, you have to accept the fact that it was never perfect. You were played and life isn’t the paradise she pretended it was.

“I… I found the laptop.” You unwravel yourself from her hold so you can sit up and face her. Your mind so caught up on the anxiety rumbling around in your stomach, you miss the faint crimson flash behind her irises and the tiny tense of her shoulders.

“What laptop?”

“The one hooked up to the security cameras.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, love.” She chuckled, shifting uncomfortably as she shook her head and avoided your frantic stare. You bite the inside of your cheek, gently taking her hand between yours and softening your tone of voice. The last thing you want to do is make her upset or start an argument.

“Okay, then just answer this… What happened the night we met?”

“I told you, I saved you-“

“No Wanda. What. happened?” You enunciate your last words, voice trembling as you desperately cling onto the hope that she’ll tell you what happened and explain why she lied. This is her chance to admit to everything, but she doesn’t take it.

“I’m telling you the truth, Y/N. Why are you questioning me?” You feel burning tears sit behind your eyes and your lips quivers, your patience worn into a thread as you pinch your temple.

This is the woman you love and trust most in the world, it breaks your heart that the foundation of your relationship was built on lies and manipulation. It breaks your heart even more so knowing that the Wanda you thought you knew could just be a fake persona, anything feels possible right now.

“I told you, I found the laptop and saw the security cameras. I know what actually happened.” She lets out a small laugh, your expression changing to one of disbelief watching her shrug as if what she did isn’t that bad.

“Okay… well it’s not a big deal-“

“You made me forget my entire life! I’m scared, Wanda. You lied to me. I want to know who I am, not who you want me to be!” You lose the composure you were holding on to, standing up and throwing your hands around.

She clenches her jaw when you yell these words at her, her nostrils flaring and her eyes poisoned with an ironclad rage. She slowly stands to her feet and you internally kick yourself—regretting how you spoke to her as she looms over you. Her tightened jaw and her slit pupils reminded you of a snake ready to attack, pointing a finger in your face before she speaks her next words.

“You came to me for help. And I helped you. I treat you like a fucking queen and that’s how you speak to me?” Shes not yelling, her voice is quiet but created purely of anger and disappointment. Honestly, you’d prefer yelling.

“But Wanda.. that’s not fair-“

“Don’t you talk to me about what’s fair. I’ve done everything possible to make sure you’re happy and now you’re scared of me?” Tears well your eyes as you stare at her, the salty drops blurring your vision and rolling down your face every time you blink. That familiar lump gets caught in your throat, forcing whatever you wanted to say right back down. You’ve never seen her so furious, and you never expected to be the reason for her to be.

“I know the life you lived before me. You lived alone with two bunnies, you hate your family, worked as a waitress and had one friend. You know I treat you better than anyone else ever has.” Your eyes dart to the floor, shame swelling inside of you.

Wanda makes me happy, why did I ruin it all?

“But if you’re going to talk to me like that after I’ve taken such good care of you, I guess there’s no point in being nice.” Your eyes fly up at her again, hoping to see some sort of playfulness in her expression. No matter how hard you searched there wasn’t a hint of that gentle gaze she always had for you.

“Get on your knees, Y/N.”

“What-“

“On your fucking. Knees.”

You let out a shaky breath before slowly sinking down to your knees. Your eyes stay stuck to your fidgeting fingers, anxiously waiting for her next orders. “You’re so pretty, it’s a shame you act like such a spoiled little brat.” She unbuttons her jeans and tugs down at the zip, pulling out a large red strap she hid inside of the denim.

“Open.” You hesitate before taking it into your hand, eyes looking up at her nervously before sticking your tongue out and teasing it. You take the tip into your mouth, bobbing your head and hollowing your cheeks around it, eyes begging for some type of approval. Her mouth opens slightly, quiet pants escaping her as she watches the end of the strap disappear into your mouth repeatedly.

She takes her bottom lip between her teeth, impatiently pushing her hips forward and forcing the rest of the length into your mouth. “You can’t act all tough with a dick in your mouth, can you?” She sneers. You feel her touch the back of your throat, the faux cock weighing heavy on your tongue as you gagged around it. You claw at her hips and pull at her sweater, but she doesn’t budge.

“Breathe out of your nose, baby.” You do as you’re told, breathing in through your nose while drool dripped down your chin. She picks up your loose hair with her hand and gathers it behind your head, using it as leverage to move your head however she pleases.

“I want you to touch yourself, touch yourself for me please…” She whimpered. Her hips start to move, pumping the toy into your mouth at a merciful pace. Your spit falls from your lips to the carpet underneath you as you slowly remove one of your hands from her to push into your shorts, not wasting a second before thrusting two fingers into yourself.

You moan around the strap while she forces your head back and forth by your hair and snaps her hips harder, breath hitching at the sight of you grinding your hips against your own hand.

She rams into your mouth, hot, breathless praises falling from her lips and raining down onto you. The material of the toy rubs perfectly against her clit, both of you impatiently chasing your highs with increasingly fast and sloppy movements. You feel your walls clench and as you curl your fingers, you notice her thighs start to shake.

“Fuck! Cum with me… let go, sweet girl.”

Her string of moans flow smoothly throughout her silent cabin as she bucked her hips up and further into your mouth. Your juices spill into your hand, your bodies pulsing and sweaty. She squeezes her eyes shut as hot-white pleasure surges through her, and you do the exact same, clenching your thighs together as your eyelids flutter.

She pulls out and you take a deep breath in, your chest heaving and head spinning because of the lack of oxygen. She watches you withdraw your hand from your shorts and your cheeks fade to a hot pink seeing your fingers coated in the sticky cum.

She takes your clean hand and guides you to lay on the couch. You melt into the soft sofa, legs twitching and your eyes shut. You weakly mumble protests when you feel her climb on top of you and immediately starts tugging at your shorts, pulling them down your legs and throwing them to the side. She moves her hand and massages your pussy, eagerly listening to all of your icky sounds. You squirm and try jerking away from her, but her hand pins your hips back down to the couch, forcing you to endure the intensity of her touch.

“Wands, I’m tired..” She smiles, your voice low and husked from your sore throat.

“Don’t you hear that, baby? You’re so wet for me, even when I’m mean to you.” She shushes your begging while using her hand to move your sticky panties out of the way. She lines herself up to your hole, slowly pushing inside and doesn’t wait before picking up her speed.

“You’re so tight..” You sob, feeling smothered and hot from her hands groping at you, her body like a chunk of burning coal hovering above you. She wipes some of your cum from your fingers with her own, then moving them towards your mouth and sliding them in. She exhales shakily and her hips stutter when you swirl your tongue around her fingertips, opening your eyes the slightest bit so you can catch her reaction.

“God, you’re so good like that…” She slams into you harder, adoring the whines that would muffle because of your stuffed mouth. She feels your walls clench around the strap again and her lips stretch into a smug smirk.

“Aww gotta cum already? You wanna make a mess all over my strap, baby? Yeah?” Her voice hitches higher, patronising you in a way she knew you loved.

She takes it all in. Your tits bouncing underneath your shirt from her thrusts and your hardened nipples peeking through. Your flushed cheeks. The sweat glistening off of your forehead and your inner brows perked upwards. You could only moan an answer to her question, legs writhing and eyes glazed over as you stare at her in your euphoric haze.

Then it hits you, the feeling that you’d describe as tasting a slice of heaven and hell at the same time. Your back arches and your muscles tighten. You gasp and pathetically attempt to kick at her when she starts to toy with your sensitive clit, but cease your actions when she shoves her fingers further into your throat as a silent warning.

The last thing you remember before slowly drifting off into your long awaited slumber, is Wanda’s hands running down your sides, the top of her head and your stomach flexing as she kissed her way down your stomach.

⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘

taglist: @wandasfavv @sokovianbaby @hopelesslygaysstuff @ghxst-guts @maximoffsgirl @mrsmothermaximoff @themilfsland @slutm3out @immclovinmilfs @kimiisims-blog @halsnaksns

[luffysprincess]

LIE DETECTOR TEST : RENSUKE KUNIGAMI 

⊹ summary : the blue lock boys are invited to take a lie detector test, but they’ve got to answer twitter’s unfiltered questions

⊹ pairing : rensuke kunigami x reader (established relationship)

⊹ wc : 740

⊹ warnings : fem!reader with she/her pronouns, reader is referred to as a “girlfriend”, unedited, suggestive/nsfw. MINORS DNI

⊹ a/n : kunigami was highly requested and I’m sorry for such a long wait but I finally got the motivation to write his part!! lmk who should be interviewed next <33 ALSO if anyone has a reblog of bachira’s version pls send me the link. I never saved it before I deactivated my previous acc TT

⊹ isagi’s version | bachira’s version

Kunigami’s never been hooked up to a polygraph before. He’s never been in an interview like this before either. When the team’s PR manager introduced the idea to the team, Kunigami was rather excited for something so fun and unique. It’d definitely get them more attention and hopefully expand their fan base. Not to mention, he used to love watching those ‘answering your tweets’ interviews so he was looking forward to being on the other end of the screen this time. 

He, however, did not expect the fans to be so dirty minded. 

“Twitter user @/rensuckmyclit asks ‘How do you feel about breeding and how do I get myself a rensuke creampie??’”

He shouldn’t be so surprised, not after hearing what Isagi and Bachira had to answer but he was hoping he’d get some tame questions. How in the hell was he supposed to answer this?

It didn’t help that he could hear the two men beside him laughing at his expression, one of shock, confusion and embarrassment. But he’s made his bed and now he’s gotta lie in it or however the saying goes. 

“Yeah breeding is…nice, and uh you can’t?” his statement coming out as more of a question. 

All heads in the room turn to Milo, the polygraph examiner, curious to hear his verdict but are met with an old man frowning at his machine. “Inconclusive.”

“Maybe try saying more than just two words, idiot,” Isagi sarcastically adds as he punches his arm. 

“Don’t bother lying, Milo’ill catch ya,” Bachira adds, grinning mischievously at the ginger. 

“I’ll repeat the question for you: ‘How do you feel about breeding and how do I get myself a rensuke creampie??’”

“How are you even saying that with a straight face?!” Kunigami questions. “Ugh nevermind.…Breeding is uh…a yes for me.”

“So you’re into it?”

“Yes I’m into it,” he sighs.

“Milo?”

“Truth”

“And as for the second part of the question—god I can’t believe I’m about to say this on camera—,” Kunigami drags his hand down his face and mutters out the rest of the answer, “only Y/N gets a ‘rensuke creampie’.” He uses his free hand to form air quotes for the embarrassing term. 

“Y/N?” the interviewer questions.

“My girlfriend. Now can I get the next question before these two pass out? Megs looks like he forgot how to breathe– dammit its not that funny!” Hearing their usually collected teammate lose his temper over this only released another wave of cackles from the boys, contagious enough that even the polygraph examiner and the interviewer couldn’t hold back their chuckles. Kunigami can only huff in embarrassment as he waits for what’s next.

“Okay, okay… our next question is from twitter user @/kunigamisrightasscheekhairs.”

“What the fuck are these handles?”

“I think they’re creative,” Bachira snickers.

“They ask ‘What’s the weirdest thing you’ve been asked to sign?’”

Kunigami takes a second to reflect on all his fan interactions. Frowning, he hums in thought and just when he thinks he’s got answer he remembers an even odder instance. On the outside he looks like a fish opening and closing its mouth with nothing ever coming out until finally he sits up straighter to respond, “Someone once asked me to sign her tits.” 

“What’s the verdict Milo? Is he telling the truth?”

“Yup.”

“Well did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Sign the girl’s tits.”

“I don’t need to answer that so I won’t” Kunigami smirks at Isagi feeling smart but the blue eyed man just smirks back, “Well that just makes it seem like you definitely did. I wonder if Y/N knows about this. Should I tell her?”

Isagi is met with Kunigami’s playful glare and a series of curses thrown at him, all of which will be censored out when this episode is posted on BlueTube. 

However, the room is silenced when Kunigami goes serious. He turns to the camera with a straight face, “I’m only admitting this because I don’t want any false accusations of me cheating or anything going around. Yes I signed her tits. And yes Y/N knows about it. They were her tits. And because I know one of these two idiots will ask, yes we were dating at the time.”

“All true,” the examiner confirms but one look at Kunigami’s face would be more than enough to know if he was really telling the truth. Afterall, his face was turning redder than his hair. 

taglist:  @kazuubaby @satanblessing @saiki-enthusiast @nnasv @nymphsdomain @mitzukichan18 @celestair @ilovechuuyaa @mortallytenaciouskoala @tsumu-senpai @hweartiish

[msmiseryxoxo]

supa!

Soldier boy x fem reader

🎧 hoe cakes- MF DOOM

tags- canon typical misogyny, throat fucking, gagging but that’s it, daddy kink, unspecified age gap but it’s quite big ( he is 115), sleazy and kind of mean ben, reader has hair that can be pulled but no other physical descriptors!

Ben teaches you some things in the room of a cheap motel.

1.2k words

me when this was in the drafts for a month

At first, Ben didn’t understand as to how you got in this group that takes down the most powerful beings in the world. You’re not particularly strong, he doesn’t know what your deal is. Maybe you’re smart or whatever.

What he is sure of, however, is how fucking annoying your happy go lucky attitude is. You act like a first grade teacher for god's sake.

“I was up all night making these. So if you don’t like them, please lie to me and say you’ve never tasted anything better.” You exclaimed, bringing in a heart shaped tin with a lace trimming, with chocolate chip cookies inside of it.

The rest of the team sans Butcher ( as he was nowhere to be found) was delighted. He scoffs at this.

Surprisingly, the two of you began to bond over the course of a couple months. You talk about the band America and the films of jimmy stewart. He’s surprised that a sweet young thing like you knows the references soldier boy goes on about. Of course he always wanted to spank your cute little librarian ass, but he found you sweeter to be around lately. You infected him with your sweetness, hell, your melting his blood red american heart.

So it’s no surprise when you find yourself on your knees, by the legs of the bed frame, on the grimy floor of a dingy motel. It was a long

day,and Ben was tired of being restrained.

It was a classic “there was only one bed situation” when you arrived at the motel, as butcher sent only the two of you on a mission. He received concerning looks from the the team, but he didn’t care. You were to be martyred in a sense, for the sake of taking down homelander. Solider boy was estatic of course, he would get the chance to fuck you. He was no hero in a romance novel. He thought about shoving your head into a pillow, slobbering so sweetly, losing your mind as he pistons his cock into your slick heat, small little panties soaked and pushed to the side.

He’d have to settle with his cock down your throat because of course…

“ I haven’t done this before. I don’t know what to do, maybe you can teach me?” you so impishly put it. You sat criss cross applesauce on the beige comforter looking up . He was wearing plaid boxers and a slim fitted white tee, cock throbbing so hard it hurt. Soldier boy hadn’t fucked since the 80s, and normally he wouldn’t have much patience but he knew the pay off of this would be way sweeter.

“mhmm, bet you would like that huh? want me fuck your pretty little throat?” He scoffs and steps back, allowing you to slowly slip down to the floor. He strokes your face with the tip of his fingers, ever so softly. He then grabs your checks and spits in your face. Your walls pulse at the unsuspected act, increasingly getting slicker.

“ I bet your pussy is so wet right now. She needs someone to help her out. But not now. No, he needs a little lovin right now.” He points down to his boner.

He reaches to his side of the night stand and pulls a cigarette out of his box, and a red lighter next to it. He focuses on lighting his cigarette, smoke blowing through the side of his mouth. He scratches his beard before he tugs at your hair.

“Mmm” you squirm.

“Take it out of my boxers, will you doll?”

Fingers find his waist band, brushing past the cotton of his underwear. You toy with it, as you begin to take out his length. It’s perfectly thick, but you begin to wonder if your mouth could even take it.

“Christ, you’re huge.” He begins to chuckle . Ben is amused at your bluntness and look of adoration.

“ Wanna hold him? I think he likes you.” God he was disgusting, but he found you much too amusing to take this seriously.

You take him in your hand and start to stroke at an excruciatingly slow pace. Visibly, he gets a bit flustered at this and puts his calloused hand on top of yours, helping you find a faster rhythm.

“Spit on it, make it wet for me.” He demands. A wad of your spit finds itself on your hand, rubbing up and down at his length. You begin to find a good pace, he groans in response.

“That's it sweetheart, just like that,” He holds his firm grip on your hair while you begin to peck small kitten licks on his balls. His lips pressed together, holding the cigarette, stifling a groan. The smell of tobacco and the musk of length fill your nostrils, almost intoxicating and laxing your body.

” Think ya can take him in your mouth? I think you can do it. A pretty broad like you is made to take cock.” In response, you hum against him, on your knees.

He slaps his cock across your hot cheeks. He smears his precum, the warmth of him filling your being.

He lets go of his firm grasp of your hair, and shows you a short bit of kindness. Soldier Boy can be gentlemanly if he wants to, petting your hair. He guides himself to your mouth, tapping two fingers against you signaling for you to open. He starts slow, letting you get acclimated to his girth. His dick is not abnormally long, but it is abnormally thick.

“C’mon honey, a little wider for daddy.” Solider boy growled, bucking his hips against your face. You’ve never told a soul about this little thing you had for older men being your daddy, so it’s a lucky little thing he mentioned it before you did. Your pussy clenches against the carpeted floor, wet spot forming on your panties. The feeling of your vibrating moans against his cock make ben groan. He bucks his hips, the tip of his dick kissing past dip in your mouth, urging you to gag. He doesn’t seem to care about this, he can feel his release coming.

“ Bet you want swallow daddy’s load, I know you’re into the whole daddy thing. Makes sense, a sweet young baby like you needs a daddy huh? Need someone to teach you how to be the best little cocksucker.” His eyes roll back. Fat globs of tears fall down your cheek. The cigarette is still being smoked, he holds it between two fingers in one hand as he places his other hand on your head. You’ve become a hot mess of sticky skin and saliva dripping down your skin. A mascara smeared beauty, he thinks. Ben thrusts begin to get sloppier, and he pushes your head up and down on his cock.

“Oh, fuck, going cum all over you, all over your cute little top.” He pinches your nipples, your cries around his girth send him over the edge. He pulls out of your mouth, giving you a moment to catch your breath, as he pushes your shirt up to paint his love all over your chest, rising up and down.

He puts out the cigarette on a small heart glass ashtray you got him as a gift. As he sips on his glass of bourbon, you grin up at him, asking, “did I do a good job, daddy?”

“ If you keep acting like a little tease we can do this all night.” But hey, you weren’t one to complain.

thank you for reading! I kind of hate this but i hope someone likes it. got the idea when listening to hoe cakes specifically one line: “treat her like a daughter, taught her how to bust a nut” and it was so gross i thought of ben :((( he’s so supa!!!

[americanwhores]

LIMERENCE !

ft. jimmy x fem!reader

tags. implied/reference rape, failed rape recovery, talk of incest and underage but not in regards to reader, public humiliation, obsession on readers part, sort of stalking, one mention of suicide, slight boot kink, just humiliation tbh..

note. waow.. don’t know what this is.. unedited and kind of sucks.. rbs n feedback always appreciated. ignore any typos!

What do you do when your rapist is the most handsome man you’ve ever had the pleasure of fucking?

He wasn’t ugly or fat and he wasn’t the tallest, but everyone has their shortcomings.

You feel like a total fraud, picking at the lint on your sweater as you listen to a girl bawl her eyes out while recounting the time her father raped her in the back of his pick-up after school.

The woman before her was gang-raped by her delinquent boyfriend’s lackeys, the man to her left is the victim of his middle-school teacher, another lady pushed out two rape babies from her deadbeat husband before she managed to get away from him.

They’re all ghosts; beaten down, so broken, and you are you.

The same as before, if not a little bit better.

In fact, you’ve stopped getting those night terrors where all your teeth fall out.

You got raped and everything just felt right.

Like he knocked something into place, dug so deep into your cunt he rewired your brain.

Your therapist said this would be a chance at community, some place to bring you comfort, like-minded individuals who have gone through all the same things you have. Circle time for victims of brutal, life-ruining—life-changing rape, you should fit right in.

But you have never felt more out of place.

Pick-up girl can’t continue, she’s choking on her words, they come out her throat like the creak in an old floorboard. The box of Kleenex is significantly lighter.

“We can move on,” says a lady with kind eyes, shifting on her chair to face your way.

They all look at you with their haunted, dark eyes, gaping black chasms that lead right to fucking hell. God. You’re going straight to hell.

“Erm..” You squeeze your hands into fists. You unstick your thighs from the plastic chair. You count to ten and try not to think about how nice he looked on top of you.

“It’s okay, honey, take your time.” She places her hand on your knee. You think of him. His hand on your thigh, squeezing your tender flesh until it came right off the bone, the way it inched up your skirt.

You go stiff and she notices, gasping softly like she has done something wrong. And she has. She’s turned you the fuck on, the warmth of her encouragement going straight to your cunt.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think about—“

“No, it’s okay,” you strain to get it out, avoiding her eyes like sympathy is a highly contagious disease of some kind.

They’re all feeling bad for you when you have finally started to feel good about yourself.

Man, you suck.

“He was my boyfriend.” Your voice cracks for dramatic effect, hold the applause. You wish he was your boyfriend. “He did it almost everyday.” You wish he did it everyday. “It would be after I came back from work…” It would be great stress relief after your Friday shift, it’s nearing Christmas and everybody is crushed into the stores like cattle in free stall barns.

You open and close your mouth, unsure of where to go from here, so you stand up and the chair screeches against the ground. “Sorry… I’m so sorry—I need to go.”

You leave and it looks real.

Like you are a real victim with a real story and very real feelings. The type you see on TV, dressed in white, trembling like lambs, abhorred by the notion of anything sexual. Squeaky clean like you should be.

For just a moment you feel normal. Your therapist is not eyeballing you like a mildly fascinating organism in her Petri dish. Your friends don’t give you a funny look when you say you’re fine—great actually. Your mom is not hanging her head in secondhand shame when you refuse to file a police report, disturbed when she unearths your bloodied underwear beside the prayer book you keep tucked beneath your pillow, rosary nowhere to be found.

They mutter quietly amongst themselves.

Poor thing she can’t even speak about it, it must’ve been awful, I can’t even imagine what she went through, so young.

You can’t speak about it, you really can’t, you might start reciting wedding vows if you think about him longer than a second.

Your loneliness is like the crack in a China cup, fine and glossy on the outside but delicate from years stowed away in show cabinets, passed from bidder to bidder. He pressed golden lacquer into the seams of your fracture, put you back together like you were something worth holding, something to be used.

Stored away in your bag, a sacred place your mother has not yet invaded, is his work ID. You say his ordinary name like you’re uttering a prayer, you drag the jagged tip of your nail over his tiny photograph. His hair and beard are longer than you remember, he’s handsome underneath the scruff, a strong nose and a broad chest. The collar of his company-issued jumpsuit is half popped, and he’s scowling at the camera like it’s an inconvenience.

There’s no phone number on it and part of you is glad you won’t have to call into the company, requesting Jimmy like The Pony Express is a sex hotline and he’s their newest, youngest, bustiest doll.

You wait outside the warehouse instead. It’s a big old thing, the last of its kind, muted in colour, blending into the silver skies. You look at the horse who sits on top like a weathervane on a cathedral, oversized features and the stomach of a pudgy toddler.

Every day from two to eight you circle the block a few times, take a window seat in the cafe opposite until the staff begin to stack tables and chairs, sit at the bus stop beside the same lot of people who wonder why you never get on.

The horse watches from above, wide eyes glowing in the dark beside the moon, unsettlingly reverent, sparkling with diamond-sharp logic, like it knows something you do not, a silent witness to your dog-like devotion.

One day, you leave work early and find a truck parked in front of the hulking, metal mass. Two men are unloading it, one is old and the other is blond, but they don’t matter to you. A third steps out of the cab, your breath gets caught in your throat, scared your exhale might blow him away.

You don’t look when you cross the street.

“Excuse me?” You call out, you’re sure he hears you, but he’s choosing to ignore it. “Are you Jimmy?” You ask once you're close enough to go unnoticed.

“Depends,” he says in that voice you have heard so many times in your dreams, rough like the serrated edge of a knife. “Who’s asking?” He hasn’t looked up once, disinterested and completely unaffected while you burn just being near him.

There is a woman near those other two men, leant down amidst some crates, a clipboard pressed to her chest. Her face is white and her nose is long like the snout on a hound dog, her charcoal eyes are sad and droopy.

You wonder if he has touched her like he has touched you. Either she just has one of those faces or she can take your slot at circle time. She would fit right in with the rest of them. Herbivores hiding in long grass.

“I’m asking.” You clear your throat, he looks up at you with his lidded eyes and you don’t look away, openly admiring the colour of them, how they look in the sunlight. There are a million things you want to ask him.

Was it just me? Was I your first and only? Have you been thinking about me? Do you want a summer wedding or a winter one? Vanilla or chocolate cake? We could do floral arrangements in your favourite colour.

He seems to grow slightly antsy when you continue to stare, Adam’s apple bulging out of his throat when he swallows. He looks like he’s started to feel sick, like he’s waiting outside the principal’s office after breaking a window.

It’s different, he’s different in the day. Long gone is his barbed tongue and wolf-like smile. “What do you want?”

You.

Your fingers toy with the rounded edges of his employee card, if you hand it to him now it’ll all be over.

“Listen,” Jimmy starts, lowering his voice, “if it’s something I did, I’m sorry.” Apprehension twists his mouth into a frown, and he doesn’t sound all that sorry. “But you can’t show up—“

“Here.” You fish his ID from your purse, reluctant to hand it over. His fingers don’t brush yours like you hoped and he seems all too eager to get rid of you.

“Thanks, cool,” he says with all the enthusiasm of a funeral celebrant, tucking it into his breast pocket for safekeeping, his disengagement is a knife in your chest. You’re a stain on a shirt he has no intention of cleaning.

“Yeah…” Does he not remember you? Is there nothing about you that is worth remembering? Were you not good? “Cool.” The longer you stand there the more likely it seems he’s going to grab a broom to chase you away. “Well, bye, Jimmy.” You blink at him sadly, expectantly, longingly. This is it.

You walk away and that was it. That was it. You’ll never see him again, you have no reason to be caught lurking outside the warehouse.

You start to think long and hard on your way home about the fuck is wrong with you.

Everyone is shaped by the sum of their exposures. A product of the people you meet, the enemies and friends you make, who you go home to. Every smile, every scowl, every bad habit is the reflection of another. But to be completely fucking honest, you think you’re just like this. The root of the problem is you, it stems from deep inside your very core, a fundamentally fucked up instinct that makes life a fucking inconvenience. It turns everything into a complication and that is why you’re like this.

God, you wonder what it would be like to wake up and think about normal things like normal people who do not have this constant flurry of wrongness whirling around inside of them. You want to go through life like you’re meant to be on earth, not like an alien species that crash-landed here and never managed to get out, unable to acclimatise to the human way, not like you’re a manufacturing defect.

You want to laugh at the right moment, you want to know what everyone else is thinking, you want to be raped so badly. Again and again and again. You can’t be normal if you can’t stop thinking about the most abnormal thing about you, that just defeats the fucking point.

Your friends think it is their fault for bringing you home that night, for letting you go home all on your own, for getting drunk and leaving you sober. They feel responsible for the best night of your life and you hate it. You hate that they don’t get it. You had a good time in your own right, they don’t need to feel guilty—Or maybe you need to start thinking how they do. Like normal people. They’re horrified when they’re supposed to be horrified. Their minds are tailored to the tastes of this world, yours is somewhere else, some rotten, tumultuous, toxic planet.

Therapy is supposed to be helping you learn how to be even slightly human, little by little, step by step. But you can’t take it in small doses, you need all of this wrongness gone at once like a decidual cast. It doesn’t make you lighter, it doesn’t put a pep in your step, it doesn’t do shit.

So you keep going to wait outside the Pony Express warehouse. You camp out in that cafe all day on days off from work. The staff know you by name, six holes punched in your reward card, special access to the staff bathrooms. You’re set for stalker life.

He never comes again, but you do everyday.

The nights are getting darker, stars bleed into the sky as the sun dims, the moon is larger than usual tonight and if you weren’t so taken by the brightness you would be quicker to notice the dark figure in your peripheral.

When you finally do, you think it’s the devil, cloaked in darkness like the devil probably should be. “Oh, it’s you.” You try to hide the smile in your voice as you watch him put a cigarette between his crooked lips.

“Yeah, it’s me.” He’s unbothered in tone, indifferent in manner. It would be flattering that he remembered you if he hadn’t said it like that.

“Do you remember me?”

“Yeah, from last week.” Jimmy’s eyes glow radioactive in the dark like tiger eyes when he lights his cigarette, the flame flickers and casts him uneven light, softening the right side of his face with a golden haze and plunging the left into shifting darkness. “You stalking me?”

“No!” You say all too quickly. “No, no… I study at the cafe opposite you.”

“Okay.” He was joking you think, making fun of you maybe, you wouldn’t be able to tell either way. “Studying the menu or what?”

That was a joke, that has to be a joke. It’s your cue to laugh so you force one out, it crackles unnaturally. “I wish, but I meant before that, do you remember me from before that?”

You look different under the street lamps, they do nothing for your skin, light pools unfavourably in every pore, the jewel-toned dress you picked out today must look washed out.

Jimmy’s lazy eyes rake up your body, and then he shakes his head slowly. “No.” Even to someone like you, it’s clear he has no interest in taking this conversation anywhere.

“It was in November, the beginning, I was on my way home, and it was late...” You should’ve done this at circle time. “You grabbed me and I let you take me, and then after you told me to walk down the block and call a cab, and I did.”

“Hm,” Jimmy shrugs, though you notice his hand trembling as he raises his cigarette to his lip, “nope, don’t remember that.”

Frustrated, you clench your fists, wondering what could jog his memory—Did he do it often? Nab a girl off the street corner so regularly that he didn’t remember a single one, faces all blurring together, the same hole with a different set of tits.

“Remind me again.”

“How?”

“Take off your jacket.” Jimmy’s cigarette gets crushed beneath his boot, he’s looking at you now. Really looking at you, and this is where it all goes pear-shaped. Your whole life is pear-shaped of course, but this is just fucking sad. You beg yourself to think it over, to think of the dozens of security cameras on this street alone. None of it seems too important when he’s here.

And then, you shrug your coat off your shoulders.

“Okay.” You’ve always been obedient because you have no reason to say no, you don’t care if he’s going to mug you, at least he’s talking to you now. At least he is looking at you.

“Think I’m gonna need to see more to know who you are,” he says, detached like there are a million better things he could be doing with his time, but he’s spending it with you. “Take off your dress.”

“What…” You’re shaking slightly in the cold, wind stings your cheeks and the tip of your fingers have started to ache.

“Take off your dress, I might know you.” Fair enough. He’d seen your ass more than your tits and your tits more than your face. It was forced into a flat pillow for three quarters of the night, between his thighs for the last quarter.

You take off your dress, edging it off your ankles. He drapes it over his arm - he’s got enough humanity to not leave your pretty clothes on the pavement.

It’s cold. The type of cold that makes your brain freeze, the type of cold that only Siberian Huskies and yetis enjoy.

And yet here you are in nothing but your cotton panties, t-shirt bra and boutique winter booties looking like the most expensive kerb crawler in all the world.

“Turn around,” Jimmy hums, his hand is cold but not as cold as you, tracing along your spine when you listen like a good girl.

From here, the horse is watching you. Seeing it all, cartoonish eyes forced in your direction. It’s late so the cars that whiz past have no intention of stopping, some houses have their lights on.

Humiliation prickles your skin, it could be the cold, but you don’t think the cold gets inside of you like this. What are you doing? What are you doing? What is mom going to think? What is dad going to do? What are they going to tell your family when you’re sectioned for Christmas?

”That’s good,” his voice comes out in a whisper, “take ‘em off and get on the ground.” Lukewarm hands slide over your hips, checking you over like a piece of meat.

“Okay,” you whisper back to him, and you’ve gone so far there’s nothing to lose, stepping out of your underwear and doing just as he says.

There’s no praise from Jimmy’s end and you don’t expect any. His stern face, his flat tone, it’s all unforgiving like this cold, hard sidewalk is on your hands and knees.

“Jesus, there something wrong with you?” He sounds surprised and you don’t know what you’ve done wrong. (You do know. You do know.) Isn’t this what he wanted? “Sorry,” Jimmy says, not sounding sorry at all, “I shouldn’t say that, you’re not all there.”

Your head isn’t entirely intact, and there is this worm hole that eats away at your insides, but you’re here. You’re here and you’re on the ground, on your knees with your cunt bared to him. Does he not see you?

The horse sees you, perpetually wide-eyed and forever watching.

Something cold, like the nose of a dog, presses against your pussy. It takes you a moment to figure out that it’s the toe of his boot, the leathery texture is wet almost, smooth and still textured, grainy. The cold is making it too hard to focus on the feeling of it nudging your swollen clit. You close your eyes and focus on anything but your hands burning on the ground, how the wind is going straight to your bones.

You’re going to make this worth it. You will. You’ve been wet for months and you won’t let it dry up so quickly, not when the cause of the leak is here to plug it up.

Just as you’re about to push back into him, grind your clit into the leather, show off how much you want him—He kicks you down, your body skids forward, elbows scraping on the cement. It’s painful, but you’re so cold, so shocked, so confused.

Quietly, you hear him under his breath. “What the fuck… Fuckin’ freak.” You don’t know if it’s in awe or disgust. He drops your coat and dress over the flat of your back, you scramble to put them on. “Why did you do that?” Jimmy asks, and he is looking at you like you’re crazy, like he’s disgusted.

You can’t tell if it’s a trick question. “Because you told me to.” It’s a simple answer, the only answer. Your chest heaves, teeth chattering as you stand on aching legs. God. It feels like your bones are fragmenting.

“Are you a dog?”

“No.” You check your pockets to find some loose change is missing.

“Then you didn’t have to do that, it’s not fuckin’ normal.”

Rape is not normal. And neither is asking seemingly nice, well-meaning girls to undress in sub-zero temperatures. But you don’t want to talk back, you don’t like to talk back, you don’t want to scare him off.

“Okay… Then, I’m sorry.”

“What…” His tone lilts in what might be confused laughter, everything you say is a twist or turn in a tangled thread he can’t quite follow. “Don’t say sorry, no, I don’t—I don’t know, just go home.”

“You’re not going to take me?” You gaze at him sadly. Wanting, yearning. “I think I’m going to kill myself tonight,” you proclaim softly, not because you want to make him feel bad, but because you don’t know what to do with yourself and he is distant enough to confide in.

“Alright,” Jimmy shrugs, he lights another cigarette, the smoke billows out of his thin lips, lined with the slightest smile. “Tell me how that goes.” Well, now you feel stupid and wish to take it back. Then, before he goes, he asks a little too casually, “Your dad touched you or something?”

“No…” You answer slowly, wondering if you should’ve said yes, if that was what he wanted to hear, gauging his reaction like you’ll be able to read it at all.

“Right.” He laughs, and his shoulders are still shaking in disbelief as he wanders into the dark like something out of a nightmare.

You look over to the horse, it tells you he’ll be back.

Considering he works there and all you thought the same, so you’ll be back alive and well.

[madelinemccoolname]

Slime girl hrt

So, you’ve decided you’re a slimegirl. I’ve been on fluid replacement therapy, commonly referred to as slime hrt or shortened to frt, for five years but I haven’t managed to find a decent guide on the effects I’ve been experiencing anywhere on the internet. So I’ve decided to make this little guide for anyone who might still be on the fence. Keep in mind obviously I don’t speak for everyone and other goorl’s timelines might look a little bit different based on like genetics or something.

0-6 months

• For the first 3 months the effects are, I’m told, similar to estrogen’s first couple months, you’ll notice for sure your skin getting softer, your face might round out a bit, but the most you get are the side effects

• I personally was not prepared for how thirsty I got, I had heard about it but you really don’t know how much of your body isn’t liquid until you’re replacing all of it

• At 4 months is when I noticed my skin and body were moving kinda differently, tho this got the most pronounced at 6 months

• At 6 months all of my skin rippled like the surface of a pond whenever anyone touched me or like if the wind started blowing

• My joints got a lot more flexible, and my elbows and knees became double jointed (don’t do this too much)

• My hair didn’t get tangled overnight anymore

• My finger prints went away

6-12 months

• Here’s where the real magic starts, I got a lot thirstier for one and specifically had cravings for gatorade, I think this has something to do with slimegirls being partially salt water, but it could also be the food coloring in it (this is a joke about me drinking a lot of light blue gatorade and then being light blue)

• On the subject of color my skin got a sort of blue tinge to it, and most notably got completely see through by my 8 month mark

• The changes start from the thinnest part of your body and goes in towards your core, so even by 5 months your fingertips might be completely clear

• This next part is partially why I wanted to make this guide, so obviously your body doesn’t liquify at the same rate all over, for me this meant I was able to see the muscle in my upper arms if I looked through my fingers, this is both normal and something you’re going to have to get used to as you continue your journey

• Your toes are also going to turn at the same rate, this will probably be your first experience with lint getting in your slime bits, you don’t need to worry about your bloodstream getting infected with sock but regularly picking out bits is good hygiene and something you wanna get into the habit of

• My hair officially finished it’s transition into one solid shape, it still had defined follicles but if you tried to grab a strand of hair the rest would try to come with it

• People also started to ask me who dyed my hair, please note it’s always funny to say “it’s the way Goo-d made me” in response to this

12-24 months

• This window is larger than the others because all you’re going to notice from now on are the big changes

• Avoid tanktops past 14 months, your arms should be entirely translucent at this point and while having a buncha stuff floating around in my goo is kinda gender for me, people generally do not like to see slightly dissolved organs and ribcage

• 14 months was also when I noticed that my arm bones had entirely disappeared, my leg bones were also just barely holding in there, moving without bones was so freeing

• if you ever want anyone you know to stick their fingers in your slime, now’s probably the first time anyone's willing to stick their fingers far into your arms and legs, try to get them to wiggle their fingers. if they’re really adventurous they’ll stick their whole arm through to the other side, which still makes me a little squeamish

• Now that we’re at the part where I was mostly slime, we should probably talk about slime color. I’m going to dispel this misinformation, there is no way to find out what color a slimegirl is going to be before she starts transitioning. Some people say its eye color but that’s a lie. I am naturally a blue slime girl but my eyes pretransition were green. To dispel another myth you can dye yourself with food coloring, so you don’t even really have to stress about it

• By 18 months the only part of me that wasn’t slime was my head, the skull takes the longest time to dissolve because you’re doing the skull and all the organs in there all at once, see the human body really really wants to keep the brain safe, so when your brain gets the signal to get rid of your bones, it just does it all at once

• Some people say their eyesight got better, tho that seems to be anecdotal (mine stayed the same sadly)

• 18 months is also when I started experimenting with my shape. This was probably the most frustrating part of it for me, shapeshifting your goo is like a muscle, the more you do it the easier it’ll get. If you want a specific shape, spend enough time in it, and it’ll become your default shape, though you’ll never forget your original shape.

• 24 months is the last point I want to cover, by 24 months I was 100% liquid, the heavy viscosity from early transition leads to something closer to a liquid jello. I can detach parts of my body and then move to replace it, and I can reabsorb the parts I leave behind

• Clothes should rest just on the surface of you, though I know a lot of girls just change themselves to look clothed (probably more than you think ;)

• Suspenders and heavy cardigans break surface tension for me, luckily that's also a cute look so sometimes I match my cardigan with overalls for an aquarium effect on the overall straps

• This was also when I stopped breathing and going to the bathroom

• Some people report “knowing” when certain parts of their brain turn into goo, I didn’t experience that but it certainly could happen

Things I didn’t know where else they would fit

• I feel like a lot of this post was mainly dry, so in the interest of avoiding having a dry slime girl post, this section will mostly just be slime things that brought me joy

• I love speaking in slime puns, I keep a little book of slime puns and slant rimes just in case the slime arises that i would ever ooze some

• Being out in the rain or being out on a windy day is so much better when you can feel your entire body move in the wind, in particular go out on a rainy day without anything on, and lay down on the ground, the rain rippling through your entire body is heavenly

• Speaking of weather, when I first noticed I was refracting light on a sunny day I almost started crying, I felt so pretty and right :)

• I said I stopped needing to use the bathroom, but I still do siphon off some goo once a month. Mostly this is to get out bits of trash that accumulate and also because it feels exactly like taking a shower after a hard sweaty day’s work

• Speaking of bits, get a powerful magnet and metal shaving and you could probably waste a whole day just moving metal shavings through your body

• This might be a bit late in the guide for this, but when my arms finally turned I pulled a great prank on my at the time girlfriend by sticking my hand into a blender (do not do this if you still have bones, or value your girlfriend not being really really mad at you)

So that's all you need to know before starting frt, becoming the slime of your dreams is a difficult and beautiful process. I know a lot of what i described here might be frightening but if it sounds enticing at all know that it’s worth it.

[sweetheartsaku]

(BLLK) just say the word.

𝜗𝜚 MIKAGE REO: RANUNCULACEAE.

a/n: [fem!reader] OMGG exam szn is finally over gais i am free!! i still have so many tests to do tho🙁 AND YES the title is a keshi reference

when mikage reo has a crush on you, he’s the type of boy to use your initials as his math variables. you’re all he ever thinks about, ever since he’s been rotted by the sugars of your kindness and presence. you were like his first and last breeze of air mixed in with love and refreshments. he had been enchanted by your soul, knotting his head and heart with yours. you’re all he ever wants to be around, and you have unconsciously seeped into his life like blood into a white sheet. a love that just keeps leaking, changing its colour completely.

SAY THE WORD, AND I'LL BE YOURS

when mikage reo realises, he can’t help but stare at you lovingly. his eyes are glued to you focusing on your tutor work he had given you, your pencil rapidly yet gently moving across the paper. his eyes are so tender and earnest, staring at you like you had hung up the stars yourself. reo finds himself instinctively caressing a stray hair from your face, his violet eyes still endearingly gazing. instantly, a pink hue graces across his face as his eyes meet yours.

THE LOOK YOU'RE GIVING ME GIVES YOU AWAY

when mikage reo steals your heart, he’s the type of guy to take his time into untangling your silver necklace. the one he had gifted you on your 6th month anniversary, that glistens in the sun. it’s chains are pristine, yet tangled tight, just like the way he had found himself when he fell for you (and does everyday). he smiles at the thought as his tongue sticks out slightly in concentration, one of your favourite habits of his. as a tease, you like to kiss the spot his tongue is before he can pull away. he loves to feel your face close to his, because it feels like his soul is too. he takes the time to untangle your necklace with his initial on the simple charm, even before the date’s expensive booking, he is gentle in unstringing every weaved chain.

YOU FINALLY FOUND THE HIGH THAT YOU'VE BEEN CHASING

when mikage reo falls impossibly deeper, he calls you all the time. not texting, because he knows you won’t listen. reo will call to make sure you eat lunch. reo will call to make sure you have your medicine. reo will bring you your favourite beverage and makes sure to remind you to take a break. reo will do everything he can to take care of you, because to him, when you came into his life, time is definitely more expensive than money. reo will take the time to make sure you are well fed and rested. his favourite part though is when you’re apart. don’t get me wrong, he hates it, but when you’re calling him and quietly telling him you miss him, his heart pounds against his chest a little more. and yes, he lets out a boyish chuckle once you’ve fallen asleep.

ONLY ONE MORE CHOICE YOU GOT TO MAKE

when mikage reo who never forgives himself when you have your first fight. after 6 gracious years, he finds himself living the day he could never fathom. yes, he had forgotten to buy your favourite snack at the convenience store, and he says he swears he will never forgive himself. how could you ever love him again? is what runs through his mind as he curls up against the couch, knees on his chest not feeling privileged enough for a blanket, nor feeling privileged enough to lie down with you in the bed in the room nearby. till then you, realising your fiancé’s absence, cluelessly searching for him, you gasp softly as you find reo all small on the couch. you sit next to him, but he inches away. he can’t help but confess his sins, but it all melts away when you lightly giggle at his silly habits.

I NEED YOU TO TELL ME 'CAUSE I

when mikage reo gets to be held in your arms, he melts completely. he feels his body go putty, his eyelids struggling to stay open to stare at your stunningly sculpted features. his teeth feels like he’s rotting, and his heart aches with an abundance of love. reo nestles his head in the junction between your chin bottom of your neck, absorbing every molecule of love he can. there is nothing he would want more than to unwind, cozily tucked into the embrace of his most beloved, sweetheart, and future wife.

IN MY ARMS FOR A SECOND

when mikage reo finally has you for himself, his brows twitch at the sight of your gorgeous figure, walking down the aisle. tears brim at the bottom of his eyes as you smile at him, taking your last steps in front of him. glitter highlighting the apple of your cheeks, lashes fluttering through the brown mascara and the necklace he untangled 5 years ago dangling off your collarbone. there was not a single moment in the world he would trade for this one. he finally smiles through the tears that stream down his cheeks, sliding the silver ring across the hand that once wrote tutor worksheet answers. it glistens in the sun, he thinks, just like you do.

BABY, SAY THE WORD, AND I'LL BE YOURS

mikage reo’s breath hitches. this is where he is. he is currently playing with his one-year-old, her incoherent babbles filling the silence strung into the air. reo finds himself laying on his stomach on a soft carpet next to scattered toys and various oils and creams for his little version. everything about this surreal moment had all gathered together to grasp onto the base of his neck, clenching onto him as tight as they can, making a lump form in his throat. his little version gently pats his nose, confused why her dad suddenly stop activating. he can’t help but tenderly smile at her, swallowing the lump as he lets a tear fall. your one-year-old innocently wipes it away. she must’ve got her kindness from you. he smiles, because thats what made him fall for you in the first place.

now, your initials have changed. guess he’s gotta fix those math equations, huh?

JUST SAY THE WORD.

[boldlyvoid]

Falling For You.

[REQUEST] spencer reid x BAU!reader but they're in a secret relationship, and basically she gets him to watch all these romcoms, so when he makes a reference to something like Notting Hill or You've Got Mail and then the whole secret is blown.

warnings: mentions of lila archer, spoilers for 90s/2000s rom-coms, co-workers to lovers, love confessions, implied smut, secret relationships.

word count: 2.4k

It was no secret that the newest team member had a thing for romantic comedies. From the little jokes she made with Penelope to the quote from Pretty Woman on her travel mug, she was a walking Rom-Com reference.

Hotch understood some of the references, JJ would talk her ear off about her favourites, and even Emily and Derek would jokingly re-enact that scene from When Harry Met Sally every time they had a team lunch. It was only Spencer who didn’t get the jokes, and after having to explain them all to him 1 too many times, she finally invited him over to watch some. 

The first one they watched together was Can’t Buy Me Love. Patrick Dempsey, a loveable nerd has been saving up all summer to buy the telescope of his dreams when the girl next door accidentally ruins her mom's favourite dress and needs to buy a replacement… he ends up buying it for her on the condition that she pretends to date him so his Senior Year can be his best year yet. Spencer likes the movie overall, he wishes someone in his high school took enough pity on him to make him popular. But his favourite scene is when they go to the abandoned airplane graveyard and watch the stars in his homemade telescope. 

“I can make one of those,” Spencer whispers to her. 

“Really?” 

He nods, “It would be pretty easy… maybe we could go star gazing someday too?” He asks, biting the bullet and making this movie date the first of many dates they’d go on. 

—

The next movie they watch is Never Been Kissed. Drew Barrymore is a nerdy reporter who goes undercover at a high school and gets to relive her teen years while falling in love for the first time. Spencer likes this one because he can relate, he never had his first kiss until well into his 20s… and she was an actress, too. When he explains that to Y/N she can’t believe it, but he has the magazine photos of them saying goodbye after the case to prove it. 

“Have you kissed many people since then?” She asks, wishing he’d move a little closer to her and steal one. 

He nods, “a few.” 

“anyone good?” 

He shakes his head, “no, I’m saving the best kiss for last.” 

She looks puzzled? “What?” 

“My best kiss will be from the girl I end up marrying,” he gives her a smile and moves his hand over to hold hers. 

“Oh,” she bites back a smile and looks down at their interlocked fingers. “Have you at least met her yet?” 

“I think so…” 

“Well, then shouldn’t you kiss her to find out if she’s the right one?” She teases, leaning into his space even more. 

“I suppose you’re right,” he teases, he cups her face with his free hand and rubs his thumb over her cheek, “are you sure you’re okay with this?” 

She nods and leans in all the way this time. Effectively pressing their lips together. And even for a first kiss, it sure does feel different. It feels like her last first kiss ever. 

—

Keeping it a secret at work is hard when all they want to do is stare at each other with googly-eyes, they’ve fallen head over heels for each other and not told a single soul. No one knows about their movie dates or their real dates either. No one knows they’ve spent a whole night kissing or that they really, really, don’t mind sharing the hotel room with the two queen beds. And they definitely don’t know that they only slept in the one. Together. The whole week they were away. 

After the case ends, they head back to her apartment for their mandated 48 hours off with the pan to watch as many movies as they can. 

The third movie they watch is You’ve Got Mail. 

“Rival bookstore owners hate each other in real life, yet on the internet manage to fall madly in love with one another. Based on an older movie called The Shop Around The Corner, it’s a beloved story brought to life once again by the one and only Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan.” 

She explains every movie like this before they put it on. He’s honestly only watching them because he loves listening to her talk about them. 

“You see, they both have partners in real life but they email each other every day, as friends… but you know what it's like in movies like these,” she smirks. “Best friends who have a lot in common find it easy to fall in love.” 

“That they do,” he agrees. 

He raises his arm over the back of the couch and she sits back, leaning into his side just as his hand lands on her shoulder. They snuggle up close, she hits play and he watches with glee, not knowing this was going to become his favourite movie by the time it’s over. 

His favourite line is when two cars honk at each other and their drivers get out to argue, followed by Meg Ryan saying “Don’t you love New York in the fall?” Which is something Tom Hanks says to her in an email earlier that morning.

He loves the way the old man recalls a woman of his past and called her “enchanting” because what a wonderful thing to say about a woman.

He giggles when Tom Hanks tosses aside Pride and Prejudice cause he just doesn’t get it the way Meg's character does. But ultimately, he picks it back up because he wants to get to know her through her reading history. 

“I sympathize with Frank,” Spencer whispers as he brings out a typewriter when they have a perfectly good computer at her house. 

“I know,” she laughs. “I love the tablets at work, I can’t believe you still have Penny paint the files out for you.” 

You are a lone reed standing tall, waving boldly in the curet sands of commerce. Frank compliments Kathleen, or at least he tries to. 

Spencer giggles again. “I remember what it was like being a lone Reid,” he whispers before pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

She gets all flustered, so madly in love with him that she wants to scream it from the rooftops but it feels way too soon. They’re only 3 movies into their relationship. Maybe at 10, she’ll tell him. Till then, she looks over at him and steals a real kiss. 

Kathleen is so passionate about her books in the same way that Y/N loves her movies. Spencer sees so many similarities between them that it’s really no wonder that Tom Hanks’ character falls in love with her. Passionate, kind, beautiful women will always have a place in Spencer's heart. 

Their 4th movie is another Meg Ryan classic; When Harry Met Sally, and now Spencer understands why Derek pretends to have an orgasm when he eats a good salad… 

Their 5th movie is Notting Hill and Y/N can tell he doesn’t like it very much because unlike William Tucker, the actress who kissed Spencer never talked to him again after that. 

Their 6th movie, however, is Pretty Woman. And while they shared a bed all through the last case, they’ve never really slept together. So watching a movie all about sex and falling in love really didn’t help the frustration they were both feelings. By the time the movie ended, it was almost midnight and they should’ve been getting ready for bed. 

She gets up and heads to her room, expecting him to follow but he just stands in her doorway, watching with a bit of anxiety in his gut. 

“So…” Spencer asks. “What happens after he climbs up and rescues her?” 

She stills, her heart fills with love and she quickly makes his way to him. She cups his face in her hands, staring up at him. “She rescues him right back.” 

“Indeed you have,” he leans in and presses a quick kiss to her lips. “You know what all these movies have in common?” 

“What?” She has no idea where he’s going with this.

“They all fell in love pretty quickly, I mean just look at Vivian and Edward, it took them less than a week,” he explains. “So I don’t feel too crazy when I say… I love you, Y/N. I love you so very much.” 

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” she whispers between kisses. 

They kiss and kiss and he walks with her, leading her toward the bed where they fall in and make love for the first time. It's hot and close and emotional. It's slow and steady and perfect. It’s everything both of them have dreamed of when they finally met the one. 

— 

On their second day off they watch How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, 13 Going On 30, 50 First Dates, A Walk to Remember, 10 Things I Hate About You, and The Holiday. They would’ve gotten to more if they weren’t so wrapped up in one another. By the time they go back to work, they’ve gotten through half of her list of favourite movies. 

He’s not sure if it’s luck or coincidence or what… but their next case happens to be in New York. 

When they land, they get into their Bureau-issued SUVs and weave in and out of traffic on their way to the scene. They’re honked at multiple times and Spencer just smirks to himself. It’s not until they get out and they’re honked at once again, with some guy yelling at them to get out of his way, that Spencer turns to her and says. “Don’t you love New York in the fall?” 

She giggles and shoves him, “Shut up.” 

“It’s not the fall?” JJ remarks, not knowing why he’d say such a thing or why she’d react like that. 

“Hey, isn’t that…” Emily thinks it over for a second. “That’s a line from you’ve got mail!” 

“How would Spencer know that movie?” JJ laughs it off. 

Spencer turns to beat red with embarrassment. “I’ve seen it…” 

“You’ve seen you’ve got mail?” Derek even rides him for this slip-up. “And when do you have time to watch rom-coms?” 

“I’ve seen the original,” he lies. “It’s based on The Shop Around The Corner. My mom liked it before she got sick.” 

“Okay,” they drop it there. 

Thankfully. 

And by the time the case ends, 3 days have passed, the unsub has been booked into Jail at 9am and they’re free to go home. If they want to. Derek suggests they all go out for breakfast, and Hotch says he rather go home and sleep. JJ wants to go shopping and Emily’s right there with her. 

Spencer on the other hand, he opens his phone and sends Y/N a message. 

“There’s a place in Riverside Park at 91st street where the path curves and there’s a garden. I’ll be waiting there for you.” 

She digs her phone out of her pocket seconds later and smiles, a small sigh leaves her as her shoulders slump. She’s so in love with him it's unreal. 

“What about you, Y/N?” Emily asks her. “Do you want to come with us?” 

“No… no, I have a friend in town I want to meet up with.” 

“Looks like it’s just me and you for breakfast, pretty boy,” Derek teased, wrapping his arm around Spencer. 

He shakes his head, “Actually, I was thinking about going on a little sightseeing adventure, you know I only come to new york for work.” 

“Fine then,” Derek drops it and he, Emily and JJ watch as Spencer and Y/N head off, out of the precinct and in different directions. “I bet you ten bucks they’re meeting up.” 

“Hold on,” JJ says as she calls up Penelope. “Hey, yeah, can you tell me where Spencer and Y/N’s GPS pings in 20 minutes?” 

“I can… why?” Penny asks nervously. 

“No reason. Just a hunch.” 

When Penelope eventually calls her back all she has to say is Riverside Park at 91st Street and they know. 

—

Y/N gets there first, she’s never seen this place in person before. The flowers are even more vibrant than in the movie. There are bees dancing around every other flower, couples walking around hand in hand, people on dog walks and moms with their strollers. It’s just an average early morning in New York. 

And then she sees him. He comes rounding the corner, he’s carrying a bouquet of flowers wrapped in newspaper… at least she thinks they’re flowers. 

What they don’t notice is their friends on the other side of the garden, watching them get closer and closer until they’re chest to chest. He wraps his free hand around her waist, she cups his face in her own hands, and she stares up at him like he hung the stars just for her.  

“I wanted it to be you,” Spencer whispers what was originally Meg Ryan's line. “I wanted it to be you so badly.” 

“You sure did save the best for last,” she knows exactly what he means. 

Just as they lean in to kiss, as his lips meet hers, they hear it. Someone is playing “Somewhere Over The Rainbow” just for them. They smile into the kiss, shocked that their life is playing out like a perfectly written movie and then they see them.

It’s their own friends who played it. They’re clapping in the distance, “Woo!!” Emily cheers.

“We knew this would happen!” Derek throws in for good measure. 

They can’t help but laugh, Spencer pulls her in for another kiss, a longer, more hearty kiss. He loves her and he wants everyone to know. 

When she pulls back, she looks as though she could cry, so he extends the bouquet to her. It’s a bunch of yellow, newly sharpened number 2 pencils tied up with string. 

“Don’t you love New York in the fall?” 

“Not as much as I love you,” she says as she takes them, gladly. “Not even close.” 

General Taglist 

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @squishyturtle @katsukis1wife @babybisexual @marsmunson86

[messylxve]

love, life, and death | spencer reid x reader

content warnings: references from episode 7x23; mentions of bombs, death, fear of dying; alcohol consumption; love confessions; mutual pining; tooth rotting, heart-stopping, painful fluff

You never thought you feared death.

You faced it every day; between gruesome images of victims, talking down sociopaths with a gun and nothing to live for, and whatever else your job threw your way, you thought you had a handle on your perception of death.

But in those moments with only seconds to spare, with yours and Will’s life on the line as you struggled to disable the bomb strapped to his chest, you were forced to realize that you weren’t invincible.

It was like your brain split in two, one side trying to decipher the secret code within a code and the other half mourning over everything you never did.

You didn’t realize that list was so long.

You weren’t going to give up. You couldn’t give up. JJ needed her husband and Henry needed his father. So you pushed your brain harder and harder, as the clock ticked on and on.

And when you finally got past both timers on the bomb and fell back to sit on your legs, no words to say, you realized only one person was clouding your mind.

“You avoiding me?”

You tried to conceal your reaction to the sudden presence in front of you, but based on the smug smile slipping onto Spencer’s lips, you could guess he caught it.

You took a sip from your glass of champagne before speaking up. “What makes you think that?”

“You’ve danced with everyone else tonight,” he mused, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Even Hotch.”

You now held your glass with both hands as if it could prevent you from stepping back onto the dance floor. “That doesn’t mean I’m avoiding you, per se.”

“So then if you’re not avoiding me, you’ll dance with me?”

Spencer watched in amusement as you stammered over your words before inching over to your glass of champagne, slipping it out of your hands.

“Don’t get shy on me now,” he grinned, placing the glass down carefully on the ground.

Before you knew it, you were dancing with him, your smile broad on your face and a fluttering in your stomach. The two of you mostly swayed carelessly to the beat and he’d occasionally spin you and as Penelope would laugh with you from where she stood a few feet off with Derek.

“Do you trust me,” he asked, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I think so?”

You weren’t even given a chance to question it before he suddenly dipped you, a playful shriek-turned-laugh leaving you.

“Spencer!”

His smile shone brightly, highlighting his cheeks a soft pink now. “What?”

He awaited your response, but all you had to say was spoken with your eyes. The way you looked at him was so glaringly obvious to everyone but evidently the two of you.

There was once a time where your would have upright denied any feelings you had for Spencer, explaining he was strictly a coworker, maybe a good friend at best.

At some point after that you let it slip that you did find him attractive and Penelope would never let you live that moment down.

Sometime after that, you’d had let your guard down; let yourself dwell too much into all of the things you loved about Spencer Reid. Before you knew it, you had realized you were completely and utterly infatuated with the genius.

But it wasn’t until those moments that you thought were your last did you truly allowed yourself to realize what it was you felt for Spencer.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

The music slowed and with it your dancing. The two of you were close, his cheek touching yours, the hand on his shoulder moving down and closer to his heart. You found solace in hearing the steady beating of it.

“My thoughts run for at least a dime,” you joked softly.

“Well,” Spencer hummed, the felling of it vibrating under your palm. “I think Rossi can cover the difference.”

You didn’t laugh, but instead smiled and rested your chin on his shoulder, your head tilted ever so slightly towards his. “You know how they say your life flashes before your eyes right before you die?”

On a normal day, Spencer would have had some factoid of sorts for that statement, but today, he had settled on a simpler word.

“Yeah.”

A sigh escaped you as you searched for your words. “There was only one second left on that bomb.”

You swallowed thickly, moving back to look Spencer in the eye. “I never believed that you’d see your entire life summed up into a few mere seconds, but somewhere between that 15th second and the final one, I did. I kept thinking of everything I never got to do and…”

You let out a semblance of a laugh. “It was a lot…but…there was one thing I never did that I can’t believe it took me nearly dying to realize.”

Spencer’s question asked itself, just in the way he was looking at you. In the way his grip on your waist tightened by just a fraction.

“From the day I met you, you fascinated me. From way you think, and express yourself to the way you care so passionately about the people you love. And—and I wish I could say I love you the same way I love Emily or Derek or even Hotch, but I don’t. What I feel for you exceeds the definition of friendship and I used to be embarrassed for feeling so much for one person. But now…I’m only embarrassed it took me facing death to realize it.”

You hadn’t even noticed the tears in your eyes until the warmth of Spencer’s touch reached your cheek, wiping them away.

He spoke your name so quietly, stricken speechless for the first time in his life, but you continue.

“I love you Spencer. I’m in love with you. And I don’t care if you feel the same way. I just can’t handle the pain of dying…and never telling you.”

Your heart now beat rapidly in your own chest, slamming on the bars that was your ribcage as you now sat there vulnerable as ever.

He said nothing at first, but instead moved forward in your hold. His hand abandoned yours and instead circled you into a hug where his head rested upon your shoulder and yours on his.

“I met you one-thousand eight-hundred and twenty-two days ago, you know.”

A shuttered breath escaped you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. It wasn’t until seven-hundred and thirty-two days after, that I realized I loved you though.”

You found yourself moving back from his arms, your hands settling on his chest and his on your waist.

“It wasn’t as grand of a reveal as realizing it after diffusing a bomb but…doesn’t make it any less true.”

You didn’t know what else to say, so for the first time in a long time you listened to your heart and let yourself melt into his embrace as you kissed him.

taglist: @khxna @mackannkees

[myjealouseyes]

You Are In Love.

Harry James Potter x wolfstar!daughter!reader

Fluff, friends to lovers, pining, cuddling. (References to the lyrics are in bold)

Your friends and Harry’s have made themselves comfortable in your room. beanbags, pillows, and a few pieces of salty microwave popcorn scattered across the floor as some old gory horror movie plays on the TV. You stopped paying attention a while ago, being more concerned with your popcorn and how warm Harry’s skin felt on yours as you leaned on his shoulder; his arm wrapped around your waist.

You feel his eyes on you. His intense gaze nearly burns a hole in the top of your head. As you turn your head up quietly to see what's wrong he takes your chin into his hand. Your throat goes dry and you feel your hands get clammy. The churning you get in your stomach is new, it’s exciting, it's nothing like you’ve felt before. “Look up,” Harry mumbles as he raises your chin. He swipes a small piece of popcorn off the side of your cheek with his thumb and lets his hand fall back in his lap. Your eyes follow it.

Your heart speeds up and time slows down. Your eyes stay fixed on his hand. One touch was all it was. A single brush, nothing abnormal compared to how touchy you two usually are. So why did something so minor give you such intense feelings?

Your mind tries to dwell on it but a sudden and loud noise from the TV breaks you from your thoughts. The group of friends you’d forgotten about all shriek and flinch at what you guess had been a jump scare. You become aware of your surroundings again and right at that moment, the realization hits.

You are in love.

With your best friend, your Harry.

What were you to do now?

A few weeks later you’re in Harry’s room for your weekly sleepover. You’re in one of his hoodies and a pair of pajama pants he thought he lost a while ago. You two talk and laugh and shush each other under the blankets, just like normal. You ignore the fluttering sensation in your belly and the voice in the back of your head shouting “Tell him! Tell him!”

It doesn’t matter how much butterflies flutter or how hot your face gets. You won’t tell him. You can’t risk it. You won’t take a chance if it means potentially ruining your friendship forever. You couldn’t handle losing Harry. It would break you.

You and Harry are cuddled close under his sheets. You’re almost nose-to-nose and you can feel his breath on your face. Your fingers trace over Harry’s cheek slowly, softly, almost longingly. He smiles and presses his lips to your forehead. Your eyes flutter closed as you try to savor the feel of his lips on your skin. Your body is still begging you to tell him, but you don’t. Instead, you open your eyes and they trail over his face. You soak him in like it’s the first time you’ve seen him, even though this is the same face you've had committed to memory since before you could properly say your own name.

Harry’s eyes don’t move. They stay locked in yours as he strokes your arm in slow, repeating patterns. At that moment, he didn’t think he would need to look at anything that wasn’t you ever again. As long as he could see the crease by your eyes the dimple on your cheek he’d be okay. Harry seems to dissociate for a bit as his eyes focus on you. Your eyebrows furrow as poke his cheek softly, silently asking him what’s wrong.

He shakes his head and snaps out of his trance. He’s got a strange look on his face. He looks conflicted as he takes your face in between his hands and presses his forehead against yours.

“You’re my best friend.” He mumbles breathlessly, like he’s just finished running a marathon.

At first, you don’t think anything of it. But after a few minutes of mauling over his worlds silently, your heart jumps to your throat.

You pull away from him. Shocked, happy, wide-eyed, and grinning.

You knew what it was,

He is in love.

[screeching-bunny]

Dark/yandere king x the queen's lady in waiting mc, perhaps with Anne boleyn vibes👑🌹♟️♥️

Saw the witch x priest post and I have to say that the morally grey protagonist is a really refreshing and unique take

Yandere! King pt.2

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’

Pt.1

Even though you were never assigned to him Yandere! King couldn’t help but want to be by his side no matter what. You are the in-waiting for the queen, you’ve been with her for all her life and you adored her. She was strong willed and she was extremely intelligent. You’ve been by her side ever since you were young and have a tight bond with her. She was cold but you were happy to serve someone like her. Yandere! King was someone that people couldn’t be offended easily. When in his presence, everyone needed to watch their tongues if they wanted to keep it. He was a ruthless man who only cared about his own needs and goals. Even though he was married it was clear to see that the marriage was clearly political. There was no love between the two of them and they would almost daily cheat on each other. He sometimes even forgot that she existed. It was due to this loveless marriage that he became so interested in you.

Any normal person would be intimidated by this but you honestly didn’t care. If his attention would help you get a pay raise then let him stare at you all you want. In this economy, there was no way you were letting this money bag go. Something that you noticed about this man was that he was overly possessive and seemingly jealous of the things that he considered “his”. If he remotely took interest in something then it was his until he got bored and discards it. No one is dumb enough to stand in his way; he's cunning, backstabbing, and absolutely brutal. Morality means nothing when faced in his way.

Right now, your current situation was… strange. In a dining hall filled with luxurious food. There was a centerpiece in the middle of the table that no one could take their eyes off of.

“You’re majesty, please let me go! I repent, please forgive me for my sins! Please just don’t kill me!” The man screams with streams of tears pouring down his face. It was quite a pathetic sight to behold.

Yandere! King stared coldly at the man nailed down to the dining table. The look on his face could send shivers down anyone’s spine. He was absolutely pissed off right now. Aside from the man in the middle screaming, the room was filled with absolute silence as everyone held their breath. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut it with a knife.

“Your highness please have mercy on my husband! He didn’t mean to! He wasn’t in the right mind! Please forgive him!” The man’s wife begged.

“Listen to him scream like a pig. He touched someone who belonged to me. A sin like that is unforgivable.” Looking your way the king says in a menacing voice. “Tell me where he touched you.” Oh boy, you knew for sure that this was about to get very bloody. Man you really wanted to leave right now. All you could do was hope that he’d increase your salary pay after this for compensation for having to witness this. Like yeah it sucked that someone was going to die right now but there’s no way that you’re quitting. This job paid way too much and you were way too money hungry to quit.

“Tell me where did he touch you? I’ll make sure to gouge out the exact body parts to match.”

“My cheek, my neck, my waist, and my thigh”

Giving you a dismissive look, the king finally allows you to finally leave. On your way out all you could hear were the screams of the man and the sound of ripping flesh. Thank god that was over, it was starting to get annoying. Now you might be wondering where was the queen in all of this? Well, she was with her lover of course! Like I said, the king and queens marriage was only a political one. As long as they didn’t bother each other or get into the other's business, then they did not care about what the other did. It was just truly a loveless marriage.

Making your way towards the queen’s chambers you begin to perform your daily duties. Mindless tasks that bore you to death. The only reason your pay was so good was because of how fond Yandere! King is of you. Any other person in your position would only get a fraction of your wage. You were a bit thankful for this because if he ever deemed you as boring and fired you. You’d still have enough money to live a fairly decent lifestyle. Something that you’ve learned while working for the royal family was that it was always best to stay away from their personal affairs. It gets real ugly once an outsider ever decides to interfere. You honestly wished you knew this before your parents forced you to sign up for this job. Maybe it would have saved you from an annoying king?

Sometimes he’d hand you little trinkets to indulge yourself in. It seemed that he was quite fond of observing you and witnessing your reaction to new devices. With someone like him running the country most people would think that it’d be in ruins. However, he’s definitely smart and knows how to run a country. It’s thanks to him that his kingdom has one of the best economies in the world.

Even though you were primarily assigned to the queen you saw Yandere! King more than her. To you, he was an obnoxious and dangerous figure. One that can easily win wars and conquer any land he so desires. He is a very selfish man that has a habit of being physically and emotionally manipulative. To be honest you can’t say you were any better. Oftentimes you’d use people to your own benefit but he’d definitely take it to the extreme. The amount of people that he used and discarded was insane. Weakness is a word that seems to be out of his dictionary.You could never tell what exactly he was thinking, he was like an enigma. One thing you were certain about was that with the rate of his obsession he’d never leave you alone.

[cattordi]

2. the new neighbor 🥥

a/n 𓇼 hello again! enjoy and i hope yall get the oth reference at the end

summary 𓇼 after returning to the obx, you rent the cameron’s guest house; forcing you into close proximity with your ex boyfriend— rafe.

pairings 𓇼 pogue!reader x exbf!rafecameron

warnings 𓇼 not proofread, alcohol, angst, suggestive thoughts, “drunk” driving

˚⋆𓇼˚⊹ 𖦹 ⁺｡° ˚⋆𓇼˚⊹ 𖦹 ⁺｡° ˚⋆𓇼˚⊹ 𖦹

“maybe you still love her” topper says as he grabs his 9-iron. after your small argument, you went on your run and rafe was destined to distract himself.

now it’s 12, rafe is on his 6th beer and drunkenly playing golf with his best friend, topper.

“i definitely don’t love her anymore. that ship sailed the second she fucking left me.” rafe groans, sitting on the golf cart, “i don’t think i could ever love her again. let alone any woman.”

“that’s what i said about sarah,” topper begins before swinging, “now im with ruthie and im happy.”

rafe rolls his eyes, “you’re happy. not happier.”

“and you’re just sad.” topper shrugs, walks over, and drives the golf cart to find his ball, “you need to find someone or something that makes you happy because you’ve been in this slump for too long. it’s getting hard to watch.”

rafe rolls his eyes again, and takes a sip of his beer; but his mind keeps wandering back to you. he missed you. he could deny it to everyone else but deep down he knew.

he’d found out about your arrival when rose told your dad you’d settled in nicely. rafe stormed out of the house the moment he heard, mainly disappointed his family didn’t mention your coming to stay with them.

after that, he planned to stay as far away from you as he could, avoiding you at all cost, even if that meant moving out, but that quickly went out the window.

when he heard you getting water, he originally thought it was wheezie and he was coming downstairs to tell her to quiet it down. he hadn’t expected it to be you.

the way your hair went down your back, the way all his shirts fit you, the way your ass fit in every pair of pants, the way you smelled.

he’d missed you and never thought he’d be able to experience those things again, but the anger he felt when he saw you.. it was unimaginable.

he wanted you out of his life just as much as he wanted you in it.

𓇼

“jj put me down!” you scream as jj runs at you, picks you up, and jumps off the deck into the lake. quickly, you both resurface, and he’s laughing.

“sorry y/n. i’ve just missed you.”

after your run, you and sarah drove over to “the cut”, the south side of kildare island; where you’re from.

your parents were never the richest, but they always made it work. you adored that about them. no matter what the circumstances were, they made it happen.

“i’ve missed you too j” you admit, moving your hair out of your face.

you’d met “the core four” or jj, kie, john b, and pope in middle school. you’d had ever class with pope, and eventually you joined their clique. they quickly became your best friends.

“how was new york? plan on going back?”

“trying to get rid of her already j?” kie begins as she walks towards the dock, “she just got back.”

“never baby.” jj mumbles as he swims over towards the dock, pulling himself up. seeing them together makes you smile, considering jj has always liked kie.

“i got drinks!” a voice yells from the chateau, john b’s house.

the three of you look up to see john b with two brown unlabeled bags, sarah following closely beside him, and pope and cleo walking hand in hand towards the dock.

kie and jj run over excitedly as you get out of the water. the sight of the three couples makes your heart heavy.

your feelings for rafe were still so strong, but the breakup was for the best, and you strongly believed so.

𓇼

around 10pm, you and sarah head back to tanneyhill, both of you slightly drunk but sober enough to drive.

once you make it back, sarah quickly goes up to her room, telling you goodnight.

you smile as she leaves, and walks towards the guest house.

“y/n!” a deep voice says from behind you and you automatically know it’s rafe.

you turn around, sternly. “hm?”

he’s wearing a dark blue polo shirt and khaki shorts. his longer hair he had when you two dated was now replaced by a buzz cut and you couldn’t lie: he looked good.

“where ‘ave you been?” he ask, stumbling over his words.

“i was with sarah down in figure 8.” you start, stepping towards him slightly amused, “are you drunk rafe?”

“i had like 1,” he begins counting on his fingers, “2,3,4,4…9 drinks maybe.”

“hm” you grab his hand, “cmon”

you drag him into his house, immediately heading upstairs to his room. upon entering, you immediately notice how dark it is. not because of the lights being off but because of his blue walls.

“your walls…” you stutter and turn the lights on.

“yup.” rafe says and he sounds as sober as ever.

“why’d you paint them?”

“got ‘ired of the white.” he groans as he flops down onto his bed; quickly drifting off.

you rummage through his drawers, grabbing a tshirt and shorts, and slowly changed his clothes. after you do your best to tuck him into bed, trying not to wake up.

once done you turn off his lights and walk towards the door. just as you open it rafe says, “y/n?”

“yeah?”

“i hate you.” he says coldly, and turns over, his back facing you.

[celandeline]

If You Never Shoot, You Never Know

Carl Grimes X Reader, Part 1 [previous part | next part]

All you want to do is eat. 

You’re almost dead on your feet, exhausted after a day-long supply run with Daryl. For all your trouble, it had turned into a bit of a shitshow in the end, really, how were either of you supposed to know that there had been two dozen walkers in the basement? But you’re alive, and you’re back behind the walls of Alexandria, and Rick had seemed grateful for what supplies you had managed to scrounge up. So you feel entitled to treating yourself to grilled cheese. 

You relax back against the island of your kitchen as you flip on the stove, dropping some butter in your frying pan to begin to melt. The delicious smell of frying butter begins to fill the room, and you close your eyes, savoring the scent. God, you’re starving. 

A knock at your door interrupts the pleasant, buttery thoughts in your head, and you groan, trudging out of the kitchen. You already know who it is - no doubt the moment he saw you get home, he started over…

You whip open the door and lean against the frame, looking down at the boy on your porch. “What?”

Carl Grimes, with a bouquet of wildflowers clutched in his fist, smiles at you. “Brought you flowers.” He says, holding them out to you. 

He’s been doing this for months now. Purposefully volunteering for work that he knows you’re doing, making up any excuse to spend time at your house, going out of his way to bring you things - your favorite snacks, a ring with your favorite color stone in it, a shirt for a band that you like, now also flowers. It’s cute, this little crush he has on you. But turning him down is getting a little tedious. 

You sigh. “Carl, we’ve got to stop doing this.” Still, you hold your hand out for the flowers. 

“Dunno what you mean.” He says even though he definitely does. He hands you the bouquet. “Can I come in?”

You hesitate for a minute, examining the flowers he’d brought. All pretty, all in shades of your favorite color. “Your dad know where you are? Or is he gonna come busting down my door looking for you again?”

His cheeks redden as you reference the worst afternoon of both of your lives. “I told him.”

“Sure then.” You say, holding the door open so that he can slip inside. “‘M making dinner if you’re hungry. Grilled cheese.”

“If you don’t mind.” He says, wiping his boots on your rug before stepping inside. Always the gentleman. 

You look at him, exasperated. “When have I ever minded?” You ask, shutting the door and heading back into the kitchen, flowers in hand. 

“Just trying to be polite.” He says, following after you. 

You set the bouquet of flowers down on the island before turning back to your pan, dropping four slices of bread into the bubbling butter to begin frying. Carl makes himself comfortable on one of your barstools, watching as you pull a tall cracked glass out of one of your cabinets and fill it with water before dropping the flowers in. You set the makeshift vase in the center of the island with a smile. “Thanks.” You say. “They’re pretty.”

He grins. “They made me think of you.” He says. “Thought you might like them.”

You say nothing, ignoring how his little flirtatious comment makes you feel and instead focusing on the sandwiches. For a moment, the only sound in the kitchen is that of sizzling butter as you flip the slices of bread, until Carl speaks again. 

“How was your day?” He asks. 

“Alright.” You sigh. “Not as good as it could’ve been, but there’s always tomorrow. Now that Daryl and I know what we’re getting into, it should be easier to handle. And we can always bring more people with us.”

“I could come.” He offers immediately. 

You shake your head. “You’ve got your own jobs. Plus,” You joke. “I don’t need you distracting me while I’m trying to kick walker ass.”

He tilts his head, a little smirk at the corner of his lips. “Do I distract you?”

“You wish.” You say.

“I do.” He shoots back, unashamed. 

It’s annoying, how good he is at this. Makes it all the harder to keep reminding yourself why you can’t just give in to his advances. You’re three years older than him - which wouldn’t be a problem if he wasn’t freshly eighteen, but he is. And you’re already on Rick’s shit list when it comes to Carl - he’d almost throttled you when he found out Carl had asked you to sneak him some alcohol the next time you went on a run. He’d been furious, that day he was pounding on your door demanding to know where his son was - said he didn’t want him hanging around you, that you were ‘corrupting’ him. You can’t imagine what he’d do to you if you actually were to corrupt his boy, as he’d put it. 

“Carl.” You sigh, flipping the bread again, making sure all the sides are a delicious golden brown. 

“Sorry.” He says, not sounding sorry at all. “I know.”

And he does know - you’ve talked about it a lot, why this could never work. But the logic doesn’t seem to have deterred him at all. 

“You’ve gotta drop it.” You say, folding some slices of cheese into the bread, two fully formed sandwiches sliding around the buttery pan now. You have to swallow to stop your mouth from watering. 

“But you like it.” He says. 

You roll your eyes. 

“C’mon, you do.” He says, grinning as he gestures to the bouquet on display. “You would’ve actually told me to fuck off if you didn’t.” His icy blue eyes find yours. “If you tell me to fuck off, I will, you know that.”

You do know. But selfishly, you don’t want to tell him to go, even though you should. It’s silly to keep doing this when Rick will never ever let it happen, but he’s wormed his way into your affections. You like him. He’s sweet, and funny, and a great shot, and has the most beautiful eyes you’ve ever seen. And you like that he likes you, for whatever reason. 

You scoop the sandwiches out of the pan and onto a plate before flipping the stove off. Coming around the island, you slide onto the barstool next to him, placing the plate between the two of you. You don’t bother waiting for him before you grab one for yourself, digging in. You swallow with a satisfied sigh. “God, I was starving.”

Carl bites into his own sandwich with a smile. “Thanks.” He says around a mouthful. “‘S good.”

“Welcome.” You say around another mouthful.

The kitchen is largely silent as you and Carl eat, until there’s nothing but crumbs left on the plate. Your stomach no longer threatening to start devouring your insides, you sink into the barstool, the exhaustion from your run finally catching up to you. You sigh, contentedly, and Carl smiles.

“Can I ask you a question?” He asks, his voice taking on that nervous tone that means he’s going to ask some mushy romantic stuff. 

Even though you shouldn’t keep entertaining this, you say, “Sure.”

His gaze set on the marble countertop, he idly rolls a crumb between two fingers, contemplative. “If my dad wasn’t in the equation, would you let me date you?” His eyes shift under his hat, glancing quickly over to you. 

You should say no, even if it’s not the truth. If Rick wasn’t part of the equation - or even if you were in his good graces - you’d let Carl date you. Of course you would. But that’s not how things are - as is, Rick would mount your head on a spike. You should say no. But when those icy blue eyes are boring into your soul, it’s hard to be dishonest. “Yeah.” You say, playing it off with a shrug. “Seems like the only way to get you to stop pestering me with flowers and whatnot.”

Carl grins, the kind of smile that only comes from getting exactly what you want. “Follow up question,” He starts, grin turning mischievous. “If we just didn’t tell my dad anything, would you-”

“Absolutely not, no.” You laugh. “You want to fool around in secret? That would make everything a thousand times worse, what are you thinking? If Rick ever found out-”

Carl turns in his seat to face you, sliding a hand across the marble countertop to interlace his fingers with yours. “Please.” He says. “You already said that if getting in trouble with my dad wasn’t a problem you’d be okay with us being a thing. If he never finds out, what’s the problem?”

You shove down the feeling that shoots through you when he laces his fingers together with yours. “I’m still older than you. You’re barely an adult, I mean, have you ever even had a girlfriend before?”

His cheeks redden. “No.”

“I can’t be the first. I can’t set the standard for all of your relationships after this one. You should date someone your own age, I’m sure there’s plenty of girls around here that have crushes on you-”

“I don’t want to date someone my own age.” Carl says. “The people my age here have been sheltered in Alexandria almost their whole lives. They don’t know what it’s like outside these walls. Talking to them feels like talking to middle schoolers.” He squeezes your hand. “But you know what it’s like out there, you’re out there with the groups going on supply runs all the time. You know how to defend yourself, and you’re not afraid of the walkers. I can actually talk to you about that stuff. And if anything were to ever happen, if walkers were to get in the walls again, I know you’d be able to take care of yourself.”

The way he looks at you with such admiration makes your heart do a funny flip in your chest. “You make this very hard, you know.” You tease, trying to ignore the urge to kiss him. 

“It doesn’t have to be.” He says. “I don’t care that my dad thinks you’re a bad influence, and I don’t care that you’re older than me. I like you because you’re strong, and you’re pretty, and you’re the funniest person I know. It shouldn’t matter what anyone else thinks.”

You tilt your head and sigh, squeezing his hand back. “You’re right. It shouldn’t matter what anyone else thinks.” You say. “But unfortunately it does. Your dad calls the shots around here, and it’s bad enough that he already doesn’t like me. I don’t want to make it worse.”

“What if I talk to him?” Carl asks. “It’s not really your fault that he doesn’t like you, I’m the one who asked you to sneak me alcohol, I could explain-”

“It’s already a done deal.” You say. “And I don’t blame Rick for being pissed with me for that, I should have had the wherewithal to tell you no.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m glad you didn’t.” He says. 

“Yeah, I’m sure you are.” You say. Your gaze shifts to the window above the sink, the orange sun sinking below the horizon outside. “You should probably go home. It’s getting dark.”

Carl’s gaze follows yours, and he sighs. “Probably should.” He agrees sullenly. Slowly, he rises from his seat. “Thanks for the grilled cheese. And for talking to me.”

“You know you’re welcome anytime.” You say, standing up from your seat as well, despite your protesting muscles. 

You walk him to the door, holding it open as he steps out onto the porch. He turns back to look at you, that mischievous glint in his eye again. “Can I do something?” He asks, voice low. 

“Do what?” You shoot back, skeptical. 

He doesn’t answer, instead just stepping closer to you, his eye darting down to your lips for a second before meeting your gaze again. He approaches slow, giving you plenty of time to back away if you want to, but you don’t even though you should. The image of Rick standing on his porch across the street flares in your mind, but you still don’t pull away, and let Carl’s lips meet yours in a tender embrace. 

This kiss only lasts for a short moment before he’s pulling back, grinning like the cat who got the cream. “G’night.” He says.

“Night.” You return, stepping back through the threshold of your doorway before you do something stupid like kiss him again. You watch him retreat down your porch steps, catching the last grin he throws over his shoulder before he darts across the street, back home. 

Closing your door, you sigh hopelessly into the silence of your home. He’s going to be the death of you, one way or another.

[aakeysmash]

Roommate or boss?

Pairing: f!reader x Katsuki Bakugou.

Previous part: part 4.

Next part: part 6.

A/N: High School Musical references (watch the movies!!!). I recommend you to read part 1 again, because a lot of references I made here are also said in the first chapter. This could look like a filler chapter, but it’s really important for future developments!

Word count: 2.2k.

You’re relaxing on your bed on a deserved day off, brand new AC on and a cold glass of orange juice in your hand. You’re scrolling on your phone, chuckling at various memes and sending most of them to Ochaco, who will probably complain about finding 62 videos from you and having to react to each one. You’re planning on doing absolutely nothing today, just munching on snacks and sleeping. Maybe you’re going to put on that show you’ve been wanting to see. This is the life, you think.

“FUCK THIS SHIT!”

You’re startled out of your mind, again. Katsuki has been screaming at the top of his lungs since this morning, but you don’t even know the reason why. You hear his stream of curses from the wall between your rooms.

You’re very annoyed: he’s ruining your perfect day off. How dare he. You throw punches on the wall for the upteenth time, hoping he will stop or go outside to do whatever is bugging him.

“Stop fucking doing that!” He screams back at you, and you get even angrier. You decide you had enough, so you get up from your bed and march towards his room. You throw his door open without caring about his privacy.

He snaps his head towards you, scowling worser than usual.

“D’you ever heard about fucking knocking?” He barks at you. He looks disheveled: his usually spiky hair is a mess, and you assume he keeps on yanking it; you can feel his eye bags, and he probably didn’t have a good night of sleep in two weeks.

“Damn, you look bad” you mumble looking at him from head to toe. You lose a bit of your anger and almost feel bad. Almost.

“Well, I don’t care, you’re ruining my perfect day, so if you need to scream go out” you say glaring at him.

“This is my fucking house too” he snarls. “If I want to scream because I don’t want to do this shit, then I’m gonna do it. You’re free to leave and never return” he responds looking you up and down. He’s got a point.

You scoff. Sometimes he really has the audacity to speak when he shouldn’t be speaking. “What are you even doing? What’s this big thing that’s bothering you so much?”.

He grits his teeth and stays silent. The way he doesn’t want you to know the reason why he’s so angry just makes you become more curious. Oh, I’m about to get so annoying when I find out. Just so you wait, Katsuki.

“Come on, don’t be a kid. Let’s make a deal: I’ll make you a cup of hot chocolate if you tell me” you try to bribe him. In one of his nicest moments, he complimented the way you know how to “make it just right”, just to take it back immediately after noticing those words left his mouth. Also, your roommate likes to eat and drink hot things even if it’s summer. He’s a weirdo.

He looks conflicted. He really wants a sweet treat, and he knows that he’s not capable of doing it the way you do (he already tried and failed). He blames it on the fact you keep on saying that you add a secret ingredient that he doesn’t know, because there’s just no way he’s not good at doing everything he puts his mind into. He ponders about it for what feels like 3 minutes, where you both stay completely silent.

“I’ll even add whipping cream.”

You try suppressing your grin: he’s sold, you see it in the way he grits his teeth even harder. “I’m revising my thesis’ grammar.”

You instantly become smug, all your anger forgotten. Bingo. “The big buff Bakugou Katsuki is mad about some grammar? Really? I thought you were stronger than that, pussy” you tease him with a smirk on your face.

He tries throwing you one of the books he keeps on his desk, but you dodge it. Then you lean on his door and cross your arms, while he goes on and screams “GET OUT! You’re bothering me even more”.

“Stop screaming, oh my god”, you whine. “What would it take for you to return being the quiet kid at the back of the class? You’re so annoying like this” you say exhausted. You get one day off in 3 weeks, there is no way he’s ruining it. You’re finding joy in annoying him, though, it’s so fun.

“I was never the quiet kid, I ain’t no loser like you. Get the fuck out of my room” he bites back. He doesn’t need to know it, but you were indeed the quiet kid.

“Well, guess I won’t help you then” you reply, shrugging. You didn’t even ask if he wanted your help, and you didn’t come in his room to help him, but now you’re just rubbing in his face that you can go and do absolutely nothing for the rest of the day, while he boils himself away in his despair.

You start closing his door, yawning and teasing him some more. “Continue screaming while I go and watch Love Island without you”. You have to turn around to hide your expression.

You hear him curse under his breath. “Fuck, wait, I really wanna see that”, he says, sounding desperate. “Aren’t you enrolled in literature or some shit?”.

You face him with the biggest devious smile you can muster. “Yeah, why?”

The vein on his forehead is about to pop. “How good are you at correcting grammar?”, he says.

You look like you won the lottery. “Ooooh you want my help? Do you want me to revise your little thesis for you? Little ol’ me? Weren’t you saying to get the fuck out?” You say walking towards his still sitting form. He’s super rigid, like asking you to help him is requiring him all the strength of the world and the planets and the solar system together. He closes his eyes and rubs his temples. He tries the breathing exercises they taught him in highschool to manage his fury, when he really started managing his anger issues. You’re getting on his last nerves, but revising all he wrote in months is also getting on his nerves.

“Can you at least pretend to not enjoy this as much as you currently are? You’re a devil” he spits out. Well, he could’ve said something meaner, so the breathing exercises must have worked a little.

“Mean. I guess you don’t want my help then”, you respond, feigning innocence.

“Let’s make one thing clear: I’m a boss at doing shit like this. I’m just tired of doing it, ‘cause I’ve been at it for a day straight. I’m good at everything, so you’ll probably find a comma that I forgot to type, not much more than that”, he adds, glaring up at you. You’re now standing next to him, but the fact he’s still sitting has you staring at him from above. This simple act is driving him insane: if he’s not in control he gets antsy, and you seem to know it, because you’re standing really proud.

You decide on dropping the facade a little, because you enjoy revising things. And he does look exhausted.

“Sure, send me the file and I’ll look into it” you say. Now you’re going outside of his room to make his chocolate, but he thinks you’re just running away.

“Wait. What do you want in return?” He says squinting at you. There’s no way she’s doing it because she’s nice, he thinks.

You look at him, dumbfounded. “Huh?”

“Don’t fucking “huh” me. What do you want? Why are you doing this?” He responds, serious.

You raise one eyebrow and stay silent for a bit, then you tell him “Because I’m nice? Have you ever heard about kindness? Not everything is a transaction, business man” then you close his door without waiting for an answer, leaving him confused and somewhat angry.

You start doing his hot chocolate while singing to yourself, when suddenly his door is thrown open and he exits it, staring at you.

“Tell me what you want” he says coming closer to you and crossing his arms. It sounds more like a statement than a question.

You look at him and respond “Tell me what you neeeed”, singing.

“What the fuck are you saying?”

“High School Musical? That one scene in the second film where they all sing in the kitchen? Really?” You ask, and he looks confused.

“I’ve never seen those films. They look pathetic.” He responds, rolling his eyes and looking at you putting whipping cream on his hot chocolate. You look shocked, and you hang your mouth open.

“You’ve never seen High School Musical?!” You almost scream.

He winces, rubs his ears and then proceeds to say “What’s so weird about it? It’s not like it’s a cult or something”.

“Yes! Yes it is! You know what? We’re going to watch it right now. And you can’t refuse, or I won’t revise your thesis” you tell him while poking him in the chest. Soft.

He kisses his teeth, huffs and goes to sit himself on the couch.

“I knew you weren’t doing it for free, manipulator” he glares at you.

You shrug, while putting his cup in front of him and bringing him some cookies. He mumbles a thanks, relaxing.

“I was going to help you regardless, but if I can make you suffer it’s funnier” you tell him, positioning yourself next to him and stealing one of the biscuits you brought for him.

“You’re such a bitch.”

“A bitch who’s going to do your work, so shut up and watch people fall in love in highschool” you bite back. You both roll your eyes.

Neither to say, he hates the movies with a passion. He thinks that high school is portrayed poorly, that Gabriella is the real villain, that they’re all pretentious bitches, that Troy should’ve went away because none of them were truly his friends since they weren’t supporting him.

You keep on huffing while he tells you all these “that”s.

“Katsuki, it’s not like it’s reality. It’s a musical. Just focus on the songs and the love, damn” you whine while throwing a punch at his bicep. He doesn’t budge and your hand hurts.

“That’s not my definition of love” he simply states.

“Yeah? And what’s your definition of love?” You ask him, curious.

He raises one of his eyebrows. “Why would I share something like that with you?”.

“Because I’m doing your work. And we’re friends. Sort of. And you like my chocolate” you respond, while blushing a little. You know you tend to be a little too curious and nosey, but it’s just because you pay a lot of attention to details. Details are everything to you. You’re quick to backtrack seeing his hostile behaviour towards this topic, and you start saying that it’s not a big deal and you should’ve minded your business, when he interrupts you.

“And what is your definition of love?”

He looks relaxed, like asking this isn’t that bothersome. Like he wants you to know you too. Like he cares, in some way.

“Love is a lot of things for me” you resort to say. Just how much can you be specific without scaring him away?

“Yeah, you’re waiting for me to talk about it first. I get it, dumbass. I’m not very good with words on this aspect though, so I’m sorry, but your curiosity won’t be quelled” he responds, rolling his eyes. From the start of this conversation he hasn’t stopped breathing normally, almost as if this is a regular conversation for him. He hasn’t stopped looking at you, too, but you’re trying to ignore that.

“Then let’s make a deal. Saturday we’re picking a thing that we think helps us explain what we think about love” you burst out. He’s about to protest, but you’re not finished.

“Love as in general love! Love can be outside of romantic relationships too, so let’s settle on love between friends! I’d never go out with you like that” you add. You jump out of the couch. You feel like you might catch on fire if you stay near him one more second. Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you like you’re something he wants to dissect.

“Okay” he simply responds. You’re dumbfounded.

“Really? You’re okay with this? I thought you were going to say no” You say.

“Yeah, but let’s say that we can both decide on either going out or staying in. This is not a date, you said it yourself, so I don’t see a problem with it. It will just be like one of our movie nights, it’s not like we never spend time together, dumbass” he says, getting up and stretching his hand towards you.

“So? Are you in? Or are you scared of doing something much less meaningful than me?” He tells you, smirking.

You glare at him and compose yourself. Then, you stretch his hand.

“Deal.”

“Deal.”

Taglist:

@perfectsukii @sleepykittycx @what-the-jams @bakunianadecorazon @vensunzy @eyesforbkg @bffrrufr @imas1mpp @cold-deep-water @peonies-and-teacakes @berryvioo

I couldn’t tag the ones in pink :(