#mr twiddle

[acmeoop]

Jellystone Vacation “Wally Gator” (1963)

[acmeoop]

On Display “Cartoon Network Presents #3” (1997)

OH NOOOOOOOOOOOOO

[dailyreddevils]

Højlund equalizes for United

[2tarbell]

Can we have more of teacher reader and single dad rafe? Like maybe he catches another one of the students fathers trying to flirt with her during the teacher conference.

he would soooo be dramatic about it in his own special rafe way. it was just a parent-teacher conference, there was nothing wrong with her talking to the other guy. but what was wrong was how he was looking her up and down, slipping in flirtatious comments while she was trying to talk about his daughters grades.

rafe watched from the waiting area she set up in her classroom, knee bouncing with barely contained rage. his son was none the wiser — preoccupied with a coloring page she printed out for all the waiting students. she was sweet like that. she didn’t deserve the vulgarity of that douchebag’s stare.

but he knows how she wants to keep their relationship out of her work for now. and he understands that and respects that. so he goes through the motions of a casual conference. listening and casting looks over at his son when she compliments his reading quiz scores. her kitten heel clad foot bumps rafe’s shin, a small touch, but one that soothes some of the irritation simmering in him.

“i don’t know what you’re doing with him at home, mr. cameron, but i’m very pleased with his improvement.”

“well, uh— we’ve been going over his vocab list, doin’ what you suggested. it’s all thanks to you.”

her sweet smile and nervous twiddle of her pen makes a smirk twitch at his lips. she walks them to the door since they’re her last conference, causal small talk turning into their own specific flow. his sons pads down the hallway to the restroom, rafe promising to wait for him.

she leans against the door frame, blinking up at him and playing with the charm on her necklace (that he got her). she gives him a sweet little grin when he mentions the parent who was giving her ‘extra attention’.

“i was fine, rafe…”

“i really, really, don’t give a shit, sweetheart. he’s lucky kids were around.”

“you’re ridicul—��

he pulls her in by her belt loop, pressing a soft kiss to her chapstick covered lips. her hand finds its way to his chest, fingers dancing along the buttons of his plaid shirt. just wishing they were at his house and that she could pull them open. her lips part gently under his, a tease of his tongue against hers before it’s over all too soon.

they pull back slowly, breathless smiles on both their lips. they want to linger there together, want to stay in their own little bubble. if only. he leaves her with a squeeze of his hand, whispering a command hotly in her ear of promises to come:

“you tell me if he does that shit again, a’ight? know i’ll take care you…”

[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor anthology

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist

Part 7: Firsts

Kyle bought you lunch before your set time. To make sure you ate, he said. He still asked about five times if you felt like you ate enough or needed water even after sitting across from you while you downed a to-go container of pad se ew and your fourth ounce bottle.

You just laugh and point to a piece on your knee. “Babes I got this with nothing but a trenta iced coffee and two hours of sleep in my system. I’m fine, I promise.”

John made a baffled noise at that. Kyle looked like he was going to throw up. That look remained as he went through the process of setting up in John’s studio room. Kyle is meticulous about it. Each step done with care. You feel a bit silly sitting around and twiddling your thumbs.

“Just breathe. It’s fine.” John murmurs in a low rumble that somehow has you relaxing more than the indented party.

“It’s almost more scary doing someone I know.” Kyle huffs.

You laugh. “Can’t be worse than the blown out piece of shit on my left arm. C’mon, I’ve seen what you can do. You’ve got this.”

John nods, sitting on the other side of you.

“Besides, even if it sucks I’ll still be honored to be your first real apprentice tattoo.” You pipe up.

Kyle chuckles, low and unsure. Part of you wants to give him an out, to say he doesn’t have to, but you can see the set of his jaw even as his eyes flick between his supplies and the stencil in his hand nervously. He’s determined as much as he is scared. There’s no getting him out of that headspace until he’s done.

You chose something easy. One of Kyle’s more dainty, simple flash designs for the back of your thigh, just below the curve of your ass. A little bow with minimal shading. Something he’s practiced a thousand times and an easy enough starting point. Plus, you already mentioned having him do a matching one on the other side when he’s ready for it. Easy practice.

“C’mon, at least get the stencil on before you have a panic attack.” You try to keep your voice light, turning your back to him.

Kyle sighs. You hear his stool roll forward as he scoots in close to place it. John shuffles around to stand over him. A nasty part of your brain complains about exposing your cellulite to these two fit men but you push that deep down into nothing. A second, more embarrassing part wonders if you should have chose a more appropriate spot… that maybe you shouldn’t be standing in front of your boss and coworker in teeny-tiny biker shorts that barely cover you. You shove that down right next to the other mean thoughts.

You pointedly ignore the heat that shoots up your spine as Kyle’s hands feel out the shape of your thigh to get it centered - keeping your eyes forward as he slowly presses the paper against you. You could swear a thumb traces the curve of your cheek as he smoothes it but that’s probably just wishful thinking.

“Good job, kid.” John claps a hand on Kyle’s shoulder as soon as the paper is pulled away. You turn around in the mirror to check it, expecting to probably have to move it, but from what you can tell it really is perfect.

“Damn, dude, on your first try!” You grin, clapping happily.

Kyle nods stiffly, but you see the way the corner of his mouth quirks up. You unceremoniously clamber onto the table, moving around so your back doesn’t hurt from laying flat for the next few hours with your arms folded under your head.

“Hey.” You whisper while John steps away to grab something. “Get through this without freaking out and I’ll give you a reward.”

“A reward?” He tilts his head, smile turning from an nervous curl of his lip to a boyish grin.

You jokingly bat your lashes. “I’ll give you a kiss.”

Kyle chuckles. “With tongue?”

You gawk, face hot. “Mr. Garrick! Where’d my knight in shining armor go?”

“Just tryin’ t’ figure out exactly what I’m workin’ toward.”

You hum, pretending to mull it over. “We’ll see. Depends on how well you do.”

Kyle levels a look at you, something heated as his lip catches between his teeth. It’s only there for a moment, gone as soon as he turns to his tools. Replaced by a laser focus.

“Alright.” John settles back into his seat on your other side. “Let’s do one line and then see how we all feel.”

Kyle nods. You shuffle a little to make you’re you’re as comfortable as possible for the next however long. You know it’s going to be a while even if it isn’t a simple design. He’s new and precise with means slow.

The familiar whirr of the gun starts up. You shut your eyes, waiting, hoping that you aren’t projecting any more tension into the room than Kyle is. The needle stings when it finally touches you, but not as badly as you braced for. His touch is light.

He pulls the gun away and let’s put a giant sigh. “How y’feel, luv?”

“Hm? Oh, I’m all good. You?” You tilt your chin a bit to meet his eye.

“Better now that it’s started.”

“Good.” John nods, chest bumping your leg as he leans forward to look. “Looks good. Keep on.”

The room is nearly silent as he works. You turned down the music before coming back so he wouldn’t get overwhelmed - at least that was your reasoning. You’d get overwhelmed. Kyle is more levelheaded than you are, though.

“Thassit.” John smiles - or at least that’s how it sounds in his voice. “Her skin takes ink so well, yeah?”

Fuck, that totally should not do it for you. Gravelly voiced British bastard. You keep your eyes locked onto the flash on the far wall as you attempt to cool down.

Kyle just hums, seemingly unable to talk as he concentrates. He probably is with how dialed in he looks. You take a break before he gets to shading, stretching and getting some water. It takes a while, but not as long as you assumed. You start to get that ache in your skin partway through the shading - that feeling when your nerves are so tired from firing off pain receptors they just all sort of start burning dully.

However long later Kyle pulls away. “I… think it’s done?”

“You think?” John challenges.

Kyle sighs before speaking with more finality. “It’s done.”

There’s a few beats where John assess and you hold your breath. He points to a couple spots where Kyle’s hand slipped a bit or he applied too much pressure, but when you check it out in the mirror yourself you don’t see that all. Perfectionists.

You can’t help but squeal and jump, clapping happily and barely standing still while Kyle puts the saniderm on. You’re just to happy! Not only did Kyle get his first tattoo done but now you have brand new (free) cute ink to show off. Kyle looks tired, though, so you try not over overwhelm him while he cleans up. Concentrating like that with anxiety must have really taken it out of him.

You sort of forget about your promise of a reward for the next week. Too busy focusing on taking care of your new tattoo. The only downside to the placement is sitting in your office chair itches - especially once you take the saniderm off. You’ve mostly taken to standing while working and wearing shorts and skirts to let it breathe. It’s worth it, though. You’ll have to ask Kyle how soon he wants to do the other one. Without being pushy, of course.

You quietly hum to yourself as you get the cash drawers ready to lock away in the backroom safe. Triple checking the bags and making sure tips are divided correctly, etc.

“Hey, lovie.” Kyle saddles up behind you suddenly, hands on your hips.

You jump. “Holy shit, you scared the hell out of me!”

“Sorry.” He chuckles. A hand slips down your hip, palm tracing the hem of your tennis skirt to lightly rest over the little bow. “How’s she healin’?”

“It’s, uh, it-“ You stutter, eyes wide and skin hot. If it were Johnny, you’d laugh and swat him away - maybe let his hand wander to your ass first - but Kyle doesn’t do this. Not that you don’t like it - the problem lies in that you’re liking it too much. If the patter of your heart is anything to go by. “It’s good. Not itching yet or anything.”

Kyle hums. “Good.”

“Th-that all?”

“Think you forgot somethin’.” He turns you around, hands firmly planted on the softness of your waist. When you just give him a bewildered look he continues. “I was promised a reward, I think.”

“O-oh?” Your face burns, eyes wide. Is he serious? Part of you wants to say no - to push him away. You’re coworkers, after all. Until your eyes meet his, so big and warm and his lips forming a perfect pout. “John….?”

Kyle chuckles ans crosses his chest. “John won’t care. Cross my heart.”

He gives you a moment to mull it over. You don’t think he’s making fun of or bating you - Kyle wouldn’t do that. There’s no way he’s interested either. That’s one delusion you can firmly plant in the ’purely imaginary’ category.

Whatever. What do you have to lose from a little back room make out?

Your lips meets his. Fuck, they’re soft. He steals your breath - greedy and gentile. It’s been so long since you’ve been kissed, much less kissed well. One of the hands on your waist moves to your low back as Kyle leans into you. Your hands grapple onto his shoulders to steady you. He takes advantage of your gasp at being tilted back to swipe is tongue between your lips.

You mould together, breaths heavy and tongues dancing. A needy, pathetic little part of you wishes the hand that drifted from your waist to your hip would hook under your thigh. That Kyle would tilt you all the way back onto the desk and throw your leg over his shoulder, eagerly pushing up your skirt-

An ‘I love you’ dances on the tip of your tongue and you reel back harshly, hand flat on his chest to separate you.

“Alright?” He murmurs, eyes half lidded and dark.

You swallow roughly and nod, breathing hard. “I, uh, I need to finish the safe.”

Something passes across his face briefly as your eyes flick between his. Whatever it was, it’s replaced by his usual easy smile as he returns to standing at his full height, the hands on your waist steady you before disappearing. Your stomach drops as they go.

“See you tomorrow.” Kyle murmurs, pressing one last little peck on your cheek before striding away, leaving you alone in the back room with a hot face and whirlwind thoughts.

Fuck.

A/N: brought to you by the time a tattoo artist told me my skin takes ink well in the most haunting bedroom voice I’ve ever heard😵‍💫 killed me right then and there

[lunaa-runee]

Ryomen Sukuna gets a new nanny for his son.

Minors DNI. WC: 4.9K

CW: Noncurse AU, DILF!CEO!Sukuna, smut, creampie, implied multiple rounds, kinda mean Sukuna, Sukuna is not great with feelings, broken promises, Yuji is Sukuna's son, there will probably be a part 2 to this story

You glanced up from the crumpled slip of paper in your hand, which bore the address of your new employer. The sleek glass building loomed ahead, reflecting the sunlight in a dazzling display. The hum of the city filled the air, heightening the nervous flutter in your stomach. Taking a deep breath, you pushed through the heavy revolving door, entering this new chapter of your life.

As you entered, you spotted a security guard. He was in his 40s, wearing a simple uniform and donning a hat with bits of his salt and pepper hair sticking out at the bottom. The man offered you a slight smile and said, "Can I help you, ma'am?"

You nodded, "Yes, please. I’m here for Ryomen Sukuna.”

"Could I see your ID miss?" You pulled out your wallet, pulling out and handing over your ID to him. He examined the card silently, peering at you occasionally before turning his attention towards the computer. You nervously twiddled with your fingers as you waited. "Thank you miss l/n. You'll want to take the last elevator down the hall to the right. That is the only one that can take you to the penthouse. Mrs. Ono will meet you at the door."

He handed your ID back. "Okay, thank you."

"Of course, good luck miss. You're gonna need it," he whispered the last bit. His words made you hesitate, a sense of apprehension settling in your gut.

You found the elevator waiting for you. As you stepped inside, you pressed the button to take you to your destination. As the elevator began to rise, a wave of anticipation washed over you, and you instinctively rubbed your sweaty palms against the worn fabric of your jeans.

The elevator's ding announced your arrival, the doors opening to a breathtaking atrium. You stepped, your eyes taking in the stunning entry. A lofty ceiling with a domed skylight flooded the space with natural light. Exquisite stained glass cast colorful patterns on the cream-colored walls, creating an enchanting atmosphere like something from a Bridgerton book.

"Miss l/n?" Your eyes snapped to the double doors opposite the elevator. You had become so mesmerized that you hadn't even paid any attention to the large double doors that entered the residence. A sweet-looking woman in her late 40s or early 50s stood in the doorway. Her outfit was plain, with regular jeans and a tucked-in red polo, with black hair and a few white hairs slicked back into a tight bun. Her smile was genuine as she greeted you. "You're here! I was beginning to believe Mr. Sukuna had scared off every possible nanny the agency had to offer!"

You offer a quick bow. Her words remind you of the doorman's comments. How many nannies has this man employed? "Uh, yes. Hello. You must be Mrs. Ono?"

"I am!" The woman ushered you in, "Come in, please. I'm so happy you're here."

Entering the home, you are welcomed by a spacious entryway with high ceilings, similar to those outside. The apartment features a modern design, with a large staircase leading to the upper level on the right. Just beyond the stairs is the living room, which boasts floor-to-ceiling windows offering a stunning view of the city of Tokyo.

"Welcome! My name is Asami Ono, I am Mr. Sukuna's house keeper," she chuckled. "How about a tour?"

The tour went well, but the condo turned out to be larger than you had expected. It featured a spacious kitchen, living room, and dining room. There were four bedrooms, one of which was yours since you would live there as a nanny. The home was simply decorated and appeared staged, not lived-in. There wasn't even a single photo displayed.

On the tour, you discovered that Mrs. Ono was only meant to be a part-time housekeeper. However, with the sudden departure of the last nanny, she took on the temporary role of caring for Yuji, Ryomen Sukuna's son.

"And here," Ms. Ono paused at a door at the end of the hallway on the second floor. "Is your room."

She opened the door, revealing a spacious bedroom. You entered and placed your luggage by the door, taking in the room's appearance. The room had hardwood floors with a simple gray rug at its center. To the right was a plush queen-sized bed, and to the left was a door that led to a bathroom.

"You have your own bathroom, and Yuji's room is down the room across the hall. Do you have any questions?"

"When will Yuji and Mr. Sukuna arrive?"

"Yuji's at a friend's today. I thought it best that we get you settled in before you meet him," she said simply. "Yuji is a sweet boy, but he can be a handful. As for Mr. Sukuna, his work keeps him busy, but I am sure you'll cross paths with him eventually."

"I see," you hum. This wasn't the first job you had taken with parents that made themselves scarce; it was common in your work.

"Well, if you have no other questions, I will leave you to settle in." She nodded toward the desk in the corner of the room. "Everything you need to know, like Yuji's schedule and food preferences, is on the desk for you. I'll be downstairs preparing dinner if you need anything."

You spent the next couple of hours unpacking and familiarizing yourself with everything you needed to know about your newest client. There was little information about Mr. Sukuna that you didn't already know: he was a single dad and the CEO of a large corporation. Most of the information focused on his son, Yuji. The provided picture showed a young boy with pink hair and a bright smile. According to the schedule and details, he was just your average 4-year-old.

When you made your way downstairs, the sun had begun to set. A delicious and comforting aroma filled the air as you entered the kitchen. "It smells fantastic in here."

Mrs. Ono gave you a warm smile as she continued to stir the contents of the pot. "Good, I hope you're hungry."

"Mrs. Ono, I'm home."

Mrs. Ono wiped her hands on her apron and gave you a small smile before peeking her head around the corner toward the entryway. "Yuji," Mrs. Ono called out. "I have someone I'd like you to meet."

Yuji entered the kitchen, his eyes falling on you with interest. He paused; you could already see the whirlwind of questions he was bursting to ask you behind his bright eyes. "Hello, I'm Yuji."

"Hello Yuji," you crouched down, meeting him at his eye level before smiling. "My name is F/N L/N, but you can call me F/N if you would like."

Mrs. Ono patted Yuji's mop of pink hair as she spoke. "Yuji, this will be your new nanny."

Yuji tilted his head. "Do you like to paint?

"I love to paint," you giggled as you watched Yuji's expression transform into pure excitement, his smile bright as he buzzed with joy.

The evening unfolded smoothly. Mrs. Ono left shortly after dinner, eager to return home to her husband. Yuji was put to bed not long after that.

After spending a few more hours in your room, unwinding and watching a movie, you finally decide to call it a night. You go downstairs to the kitchen for a drink, noticing the light is still on as you go to the kitchen for a drink. Did you forget to turn it off before?

As you rounded the corner to enter the kitchen, you suddenly stopped. Leaning against the counter was a large man. His eyes were closed, and the back of his head rested against a kitchen cabinet. His arms were crossed over his broad chest, as he held a glass of whiskey in his right hand. You could see the black lines of tattoos peeking through his thin dress shirt, and you recognized the familiar shade of pink hair.

Was this Yuji's dad?

Lost in thought, you accidentally bumped into the side table by the kitchen entry. The man's eyes snapped to you.

"Who the hell are you?" he snapped, standing to his full height. His beautiful yet intimidating eyes burned into you from across the room. His lips pressed into a tight line as he waited for your response. "Well?"

You flinched at his harsh tone. "I-I'm the new n-nanny."

Setting down his drink, he saunters towards you. His eyes, intense and unwavering, never leaving you. He reminded you of a predator, and you were the prey.

"So you are my son's new nanny," he said, circling you. "Let's hope you're more competent than the last one."

The familiar beep of your alarm jerked you awake. How was it already morning? You had gotten very little rest, as your mind was filled with thoughts about your new employer—some less than pure thoughts.

With a groan, you threw your covers off your body to begin your day. 

The first thing you did was start the coffee. It would be a long day, and you needed every bit of energy you could get. The sound of the front door caught your attention just as you started breakfast. Conflicting emotions of excitement and a tinge of fear struck you at the possibility of Ryomen Sukuna rounding the corner.

“Hello,” disappointment floods you at the sound of Mrs. Ono’s voice. 

You shake off your disappointment, returning to your task at hand, before calling out to Mrs. Ono. “Hi. I’m in the kitchen!”

The older woman walked into the kitchen smiling, setting her bag on the counter. “Good morning, dear! How was your first night? Did everything go alright?”

“Yes,” you replied. “Yuji was perfect.”

“Ah yes, not surprising. He’s a good boy.”

You nod in agreement, but your thoughts wander to your peculiar encounter with Yuji's father. Despite the briefness of your interaction, you couldn't help but notice the stark contrast between father and son. "Mrs. Ono," you start, feeling uncertain. "Could you tell me more about Mr. Sukuna?"

Mrs. Ono raised a brow, “did something happen?”

"No," you replied almost too quickly, trying to avoid eye contact as you pretended to concentrate entirely on the pancakes you were making. "Well, kind of. I met him last night."

The air grew tense. At first, you were worried you had done something wrong.

“What did he do? Did he say something?” Her normal cheerful tone shifted to something teetering on anger. Still, it was clear the anger was not directed towards you. The response confirmed your suspicions of a possible issue between Ryomen and the previous nannies. 

“He didn’t actually do anything,” you explain the brief interaction to her.

“That man,” she huffed. “Mr. Sukuna is a complicated man with very high standards, especially regarding his son. This has resulted in…difficulties in keeping a long term nanny for Yuji.”

“What kind of difficulties,” you inquire. A feeling of apprehension blooming. 

“If one thing goes wrong, the nanny would be out for some of the most ridiculous reasons. Things such as Yuji getting a scrapped knee at the park or Yuji being upset over something the nanny couldn’t control. Some have just quit, too, after meeting Mr. Sukuna. He can be a bit intimidating, as you can imagine, and temperamental.”

You could imagine. “Why is he so difficult then? How do you handle it?”

“Mr. Sukuna didn’t have it easy growing up, I’m afraid, but that’s all I can really say about that,” a pained expression on her face. “I've known him for many years, and I know under his tough exterior he is a good man who wants the best for his son.”

Your thoughts swirled at Mrs. Ono’s words, leaving you more curious about your employer. You peered at the clock; it was well past 7 a.m. now. “I should wake Yuji; I wouldn’t want him late for school.”

“Did you make pancakes?” You and Mrs. Ono looked at the kitchen entryway. There stood a sleepy-looking Yuji, still in his pajamas and clutching his teddy bear.

“We sure did,” you said with a significant smile, holding the stake pancakes. “Hope you’re hungry." 

Yuji's face brightened at the sight, and he rushed to his place at the table, eager to have breakfast.

You had developed a soft spot for Yuji in just two short weeks of working for the Sukuna's. He was a ray of sunshine in your eyes; his contagious optimism never failed to bring a smile to your face. Even at such a young age, Yuji displayed so much selflessness. He became your little helper, always going out of his way to help you with chores, cooking, shopping, etc.

“No,” Yuji laughed as he saw your version of a dog you had painted. 

“What do you mean no?” Tonight, you and Yuji were spending a night in, Yuji begging for an arts and crafts night. You had agreed to set up the kitchen table with paint, crayons, and glitter. The works, really.

“That’s not a dog!” He giggled, bringing his paintbrush to your canvas. “That looks like a yucky blob.”

You fake gasped as you clutched your chest. “Good sir, are you saying I’m horrible at painting?” He nodded, a shy giggle coming from the young boy. In one swift motion, you pulled Yuji into your lap, tickling his sides. The young boy laughed as he wiggled in your grasp. “Take it back.”

“No,” he yelled. 

The exchange continued until the sound of a cleared throat made you freeze. Standing in the entryway was Ryomen. His expression was as unreadable as ever, but his eyes had an unusual softness. You hadn't even noticed the door opening; how long had he been standing there?

“Daddy!” Yujji cheered as he sprung from your lap, launching at his father's legs, causing Ryomen to tense. “Daddy, miss l/n, and I were making some art. Can you come paint with me, please?”

“I’m not really a painter, Yuji,” his father responded.

“That’s okay, miss l/n isn’t very good either but she’s still painting!”

“Yuji,” you exclaimed.

Yuji snickered, a small huff escaping Ryomen’s lips. “Please daddy? Pretty please daddy,” Yuji begged. 

“Fine,” he sighed. Yuji cheered as he took his father’s hand, leading him to your table. 

Watching Ryomen Sukuna, a figure known for his massive and intimidating presence, sit cross-legged on the floor was a sight to behold. He was surprisingly gentle as he painted together with his son. This version of Ryomen contrasted sharply with his usual fierce demeanor.

This unexpected moment of tenderness was heartwarming. It took every ounce of restraint not to grab your phone and capture the scene before you.

“What,” Ryomen spat. “Do I have something on my face?”

Heat flooded your face as the tender moment came to an abrupt halt. You hadn’t even realized you were staring. Shaking your head, you said, “No. Sorry, sir.”

His lips moved into a smirk, eyes scanning your own work. “Tch. Yuji was right. You really can’t paint."

Like father like son.

What began as arts and crafts evolved into a movie as time passed. To your surprise, Ryomen chose to join in.

You had made a large bowl of popcorn for the three of you to share. You settled on one side of the couch while Ryomen took the other. About halfway through the movie, Yuji grew tired; it was well past his bedtime, so it was no surprise. He curled up on his side, his head resting on your lap and his feet touching his father's thigh.

As the end credits began rolling, you gently ran your fingers through Yuji's hair. "I guess it's bedtime," you whispered, turning your head to face Ryomen.

Your breath caught in your throat as you noted his intense stare. While there was no warmth in his features, something in his eyes hinted otherwise. “I should get Yuji to bed.”

“No,” he said firmly. You watched curiously as he stepped towards you, bending down to pluck Yuji from your embrace. “I’ll do it.”

You swallowed hard as you watched the two walk away before shaking yourself from the daze. There was still cleanup to do, and it seemed like a good distraction.

You were about halfway through washing the dishes when Ryomen walked in. “He’s in bed.”

“Good,” you spoke, not looking up. 

You expected him to leave, but to your surprise, he walked towards you, grabbed a rag, and began to dry the dishes. You started to protest, but Ryomen quickly hushed you, and a comfortable silence settled between you both.

It felt so domestic.

"Yuji seems happy," he spoke suddenly.

"He's a happy kid," you agree. "A good kid actually. He always wants to help everyone with everything."

"I don't know where he gets that from," Ryomen grunted as he dried the last dish. When you looked at each other, there was a heavy silence as your gazes met. Suddenly, Ryomen reached out, his warm hand cupping his cheek. His thumb delicately brushes under your eye. A surge of electricity coursed through you at the touch.

"You had paint." He pulled his hand back as he spoke but kept his gaze locked with yours. He moved closer to you, his warmth enveloping your body. You craved even more closeness from him, yearning for his touch and the chance to touch him in return. But just when you thought it might happen, he stepped away and cleared his throat. "It's getting late, you should probably get some rest."

"R-right," you agreed, embarrassed at your taboo thoughts. "Goodnight,".You quickly retreated to your bedroom, needing to create as much distance between yourself and Ryomen as possible.

Things changed after that night. Ryomen began to be around more, coming home occasionally in the evenings. Sometimes, he would join us for dinner or a movie. These visits were never planned; he would simply show up. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Yuji as happy as he is now. With each interaction, you see Ryomen in a new light. The man you once thought was intimidating now shows a softer side with his son.

During these times, Ryomen's attitude towards you shifted as well. It wasn't uncommon that you would spy his eyes on you, that devilish smirk gracing his lips. Or when you would pass him something, his touch would linger, leaving you wanting more. And when Yuji was put to bed, Ryomen would always come down and help you tidy up no matter how much you protested.

It seemed so natural.  

As the weeks went by and the seasons shifted, the fall play approached. Yuji proudly announced that he had been cast as the Big Bad Wolf. Yuji was over the moon about it, and the next time he saw his dad, Yuji made him a pinky promise that he would go see him perform.

A few nights before the play, you sat at the kitchen table, putting the finishing touches on Yuji’s costume for the next day while sipping wine. Ryomen had come home for dinner and taken over Yuji’s nighttime routine, for which you were very grateful.

“Yuji’s asleep,” Ryomen said as he entered the kitchen. You hummed in response, watching him grab a glass of whiskey before sitting opposite you. As he sipped his drink, you couldn’t help but secretly admire the man before you. Even in his relaxed state, his presence was hard to ignore. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table while holding his drink in one hand. “The costume looks good,” he remarked.

“It better,” you snorted. “I’ve been working on it long enough.”

He chuckled. “He’s really excited about this play.”

“That’s Yuji for you. Always excited and happy, one of the many things I’ve learned to love about the kid.” You sat back, holding up the costume proudly, “Finished!”

Ryomen whistled, “Guess we have reason to celebrate.” 

You put the costume aside as Ryomen tops off your glass of wine and pours himself another glass of whiskey. You raise a brow as you return to your seat. “So we are celebrating me finishing a costume?”

“Not just any costume, but the most amazing big bad wolf costume,” he emphasizes the words "big bad" as he leans closer to you, bringing his drink to his lips.

"It's late." You stand, a slight buzz from the wine. That was your signal that staying here would lead to nothing good, especially with the hungry eyes Ryomen was giving you. "I should go to bed."

Ryomen grabbed your wrist, giving you pause as you stared back at him. His eyes pleading. "Don't go."

It's unclear who made the first move, but suddenly, everything is happening at once. Feverish hands are roaming over your skin as clothes are hastily discarded, leaving you in only your underwear. Ryomen lifts you up and wraps your legs around his waist, pulling you in for a passionate kiss before placing you on the kitchen table.

His lips moved down your body, leaving a trail of kisses from your mouth to your chest. Ryomen pulls down your bra, exposing your perked nipples. As one hand twists and teases one nipple, his mouth eagerly latches onto the other. Your back arches as the sensation takes over your body. Your legs wrap around his waist, forcing his clothed cock to hit your aching core. Your need for release is overwhelming.

"Look at you, already desperate for my cock and I've barely touched you." Ryomen mumbled against your breast.

His lips trailed down your body, leaving a trail of hot kisses and marks in their wake. With each bite and lick, his hunger only grew more intense. He hooked his fingers into the fabric of your panties, pulling them down agonizingly slowly as a twisted smile spread across his face, seeming to enjoy the power he has over you. Subconsciously, you tried to close your legs, only for Ryomen to force them back open.

"Don't," he warned, giving your inner thigh a slap.

Ryomen’s gaze intensified as he took in the sight of you sprawled out on the kitchen table before him. To him, you were like a delicious feast waiting to be devoured. His fingers trailed down your legs, causing your skin to tingle with anticipation before reaching between your thighs. Your breath caught in your throat as his fingers ran down your folds.

"So wet," he licked his lips before inserting one of his large fingers. "And tight."

Your head was enveloped in a thick fog as Ryomen’s finger pumped into you at an agonizingly slow pace. His gaze bore into your very soul, from your drenched sex to your trembling face. It was too much to handle; you had to avert your eyes before he consumed you completely.

He withdrew his finger, giving your clit a firm slap that elicited a yelp from your mouth. "Don't look away," he snarled. You turned back to face the man between your legs, his eyes burning.

"I'm sorry," you mumble.

Ryomen leans over you, his body pressing against yours as he stands. His hands are firmly planted on either side of your shoulders, and you can feel his clothed arousal rubbing against your own heat. A strangled moan escapes your lips at the sensation, causing you to instinctively grind yourself against him. His face is inches from yours, his breath warm against your skin. "If you're going to apologize," he murmurs, "do it properly."

"I'm sorry, sir."

“Good girl.” Ryomen’s satisfied grin spread across his face as he drew back, his hand tracing a slow path back to your dripping core. But he granted you no relief, only teasing grazing your clit.

You try to remain calm, but your hands tightly grip the table's edge. You crave more; you desperately need more. "Please," you beg, body trembling. "Don't tease me, sir."

"Hm, you think you deserve more?"

You couldn't believe how desperate you sounded as you replied, "Yes please, I deserve more."

"Since you asked nicely."

He pushed two fingers into you, the sensation flooding your body with pure pleasure. With each powerful pump, his knuckle grazes against your throbbing clit, sending electric shocks through you. Meanwhile, his other hand moved toward your chest, playing with your sensitive nipples. You bite your lip, struggling to suppress the primal moans threatening to escape as the knot in your belly tightens.

You were on the edge of bliss when Ryomen withdrew his hands. Before you could protest, Ryomen listed you off the kitchen table and pressed you against the kitchen counter, Ryomen standing behind you. The rustle of his pants catches your attention, but before you can see what's happening, Ryomen pushes your head down. You uttered a small cry as your face and chest pressed against the cold marble surface.

His fat head is moved up and down your folds. You tilt your head a little, catching a glimpse of Ryomen’s member. "The only place you’re allowed to cum tonight in on my cock," he growls.

Ryomen's throbbing cock plunged deep into your core, igniting a primal fire within you. Your face contorted in ecstasy as Ryomen mercilessly pounded into you with a punishing pace, the force of each thrust causing your hips to slam into the counter you were being pressed against. Pleasure and pain merged into overwhelming bliss.

Ryomen's nails press into the soft flesh of your hips. He adjusts his position, raising you so your feet are no longer touching the ground. Your body responds eagerly to his touch, arching and writhing with each deliberate movement.

Ryomen grips a handful of your hair and pulls you up against his chest, pressing your back into him. He presses his lips into the shell of your ear. "Look at you, completely fucked out. Do you want to cum, my little pet?" His husky voice sends shivers down your spine.

"Yes." You gasped, "yes sir please."

He let go of your hair and stepped back, giving his hands full access to your throbbing clit. His fingers rubbed circles on it as he thrust into you more vigorously. Your screams of pleasure are uncontrollable as he hits depths within you that have never been touched before. You cling to the edge of the counter, your face buried into the crook of your arm, trying to muffle your lewd sounds.

Finally, you were pushed off the cliff. The force of your release almost unbearable as shockwaves rippled through your entire body, causing your cunt to spasm uncontrollably. Through the haze of pleasure, you could hear a string of curses escaping from Ryomen. Still, your mind was too occupied with the overwhelming sensations to process anything else. He continued to fuck you relentlessly, each thrust bringing you to tears from the overstimulation. But just when you thought you couldn't take anymore, he gave a harsh thrust, fully pushing into you as you felt his warmth fill you.

You stayed in that position for a moment, feeling Ryomen pull out, his cum dripping down your leg.

Your legs felt weak, making you unsure if you could even stand. But before you could attempt it, Ryomen scooped you into his arms and headed towards the stairs with a mischievous smirk. "You didn't think I was finished with you?"

You felt the ache in your body as you woke up in Ryomen’s bed. The man had fulfilled his promise, and you had spent several hours in his bed before succumbing to exhaustion. The fog of lust and alcohol cleared, and reality hits you like a ton of bricks: you had slept with your boss. A wave of panic overcame you. You immediately slipped out of his bed, fearing his reaction if you had stayed until he awoke.

You sat on the edge of your bed, thoughts swirling about what would happen in the morning. Footsteps in the hallway made you sit up as fear gripped your heart. There was a knock at the door, and you held your breath, knowing who stood on the other side. "Y/n," his voice sounded uncertain.

Sliding off your bed, you moved towards the door, opening it just enough to see Ryomen. There was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. The hesitance etched on his face was not something you had seen from him before. "Good morning, sir."

"Listen," he rubbed the back of his neck. "About last night-"

"It was a mistake," you blurted without thinking. You didn't want to hear what he had to say, your heart aching at the list of potential things he would say. "I'm sorry; it was very unprofessional of me."

Ryomen's face twisted in pain, his fist clenched tight, knuckles white. "A mistake, right," he said. He turned to return to his room but paused. In an icy tone, he spoke, "Make sure to clean the kitchen before Yuji wakes up."

If it had been two days since you last spoke to him. Two days since you had slept with him. Now, here you sat alone, watching Yuji's play. No sign of Ryomen anywhere in the crowd.

As the final bows concluded, you noticed Yuji scanning the crowd with his eyes. They brightened when he spotted you, but his smile faded as he looked around you. You instantly realized he understood that his dad had broken his promise.

tag: @zezedoesshit

[mintmatcha]

Inevitable Things : chapter eleven

aizawa x reader fic

cw: aizawa x reader, cisfem reader, office AU, no quirks. CONSULT AO3 FOR FULL TAGGED CONTENT WARNINGS

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Your mom used to tell you that love was a choice that she made every day. She woke up and chose to love your father, chose to put in the effort that a relationship needed, chose to stay by his side through the good and the bad. It was a point of pride to endure at all, a smile slapped on her face. She told you that until he left one night, bags in hand and another woman’s name on his lips. 

After that, love was no longer a choice. It was nights of tears and screaming matches, begging and pleading, obligatory phone calls and visitations out of state. Love was no longer a choice, but a shackle, something that you say at the end of a conversation because you must. Love is a pain you bear because you are human, and someone must hold these feelings you have.

Your mother still wants your father to call her. 

You wait for Touya to come home.

It haunts you all morning, as you twiddle away time before the convention floor opens again. You end up calling your boss with an update, only to chat with him over coffee. His niece is over again - she screams hi into the receiver- and his sister says hello as well. You try to end the call there, but he stays on, asking questions about who you’ve seen and how they've been. The conversation drags, but neither of you seem to mind.

“You aren’t watching Shouta.” It’s an observation, posed as a question. He’s speaking better today- you aren’t sure why. Death ebbs and flows.

“He asked me not to.” The truth feels right at this moment. It doesn’t betray anything changing between you two; Toshinori is probably aware of the tense air between you too. Now, it’s just tense in a different way, a way that makes your toes curl to think about.

“Don’t take it personally,” he says, “Shouta is a very private man.”

More so than you know, Yagi, you think. Aizawa is very different behind closed doors, behind that wall he’s so carefully crafted. You fear you’ve only cracked one layer of him only to uncover a different veneer.

At the end of the call with Toshinori, you let slip a little “Love you.” and he laughs, surprisingly boisterous for his frail lungs. 

“I didn’t mean it,” you try to say.

“It’s okay,” he says once he catches his breath. “I understand.”

 You don’t.

The rest of the morning is spent in your room, pouring over your emails. Technically, the company is on crunch time; your newer model hits the market within two months and panic has set across the office. Everything is ready, technically, but also nothing is; every day is a new little fire, begging to be put out. Being away on a friday was actually a gift, you realize now that you’re scrolling through what you’ve missed. Your inbox is filled with random issues and scheduled meetings for the upcoming weeks. Your DMs are alight with notifications too-- these, less urgent. 

Izuku Midoriya -> are you alive? or did Mr. Aizawa murder you?

Oh, if only he knew how quickly things change.

we're both alive and well somehow <-

Another message comes through, this one in a different tab.

Hizashi Yamada -> I see you online!

Trying to sneak some work in before I get out of bed. <-

Hizashi Yamada -> Send me your room number.

He arrives in less than five minutes. As usual, Hizashi is put together in a respectfully ostentatious way. His all black outfit might be velvet because of how it eats the light, equally matte and shiny all at once. It’s the type of clothing you wish you could pull off-- or afford --but he wears it so easily, with a confidence you could never have. No, you could never so gracefully enter a room and throw off a jacket like some supermodel.

“How was the presentation?” he asks as he flops into bed beside you. It's a different feeling than being next to Aizawa; he’s perched like a girl gossiping during a slumber party, hair tosselled on your silk pillow. You close your laptop and carefully place it aside. There’s no way you’ll be working with Hizashi around.  That was probably his plan all along.

“I didn’t go-- you didn’t go either?” You playfully shove him.  “You're a bad friend!”

“I woke up late.” He shrugs, feigning sympathy with a content smirk. “And had other things to do this morning, if you catch my drift.”

He throws in an unnecessary wink. Your cringe is a reflex- you don’t really mind hearing about Hizashi’s conquests, but it does make you think about last night again. All you did was kiss, but your skin prickles as if you did more, as if you want more. 

And maybe you do. You’ve been tossing the idea around all morning, trying to figure out exactly what you want, not only from the man, but from yourself, but every time you think about it too hard, the image of Touya flashes in your mind, and your thoughts are tumbling once again.

You think of your mother. It used to be your worst fear to become her, but each day that passes, you see more of her in your eyes, in the thinness in  your skin.

“You okay, babygirl?”

He points directly at the space between your eyes, where you’ll one day have the same worried creases your mother has.. “You’ve got a face on your face.”

You try to wipe away whatever he’s seeing, but it clearly doesn’t work. Hizashi looks at you harder, expression especially soft. 

“Oh, yeah, I’m just-” you shrug. Is there a word for what you're feeling? Ennui? Horror? Somewhere in between? “Shaking off a weird feeling.”

“Weird feeling-” Hizashi throws you a wink. “I think we call it a hangover.”

“I’m not hungover--”

Before you can protest, your friend gasps, so violently that you nearly jump out of your skin. He backs up, hand over his heart and jaw dropped to the floor. “Oh my god. Oh my goooooooodddd.”

“What? What? Am I dying?”

“Your neck!” Now he points to you with a fully straight arm, like he’s accusing you of being a witch. You slap a hand over the spot instinctively. “Hello, that’s a hickey!”

Oh. Oh no. You had been too distracted this morning to notice, but apparently Aizawa’s lips have left a mark on you. Heat flushes across your face; a hickey? Who do you think you are? Kaminari? You’ve had a secret for less than 24 hours and it’s already threatening to come out.

“You got laid last night? With who? Where? When? Tell me everything!” Hizashi pushes down in the mattress to bounce himself, jimmying you up and down in the process.

“Well, uh--” You can’t even begin to make something up. The irrational fears start to take over- what if he figures out exactly who’s mouth left that mark? Hizashi’s a whore-- he might know some sort of mouth forensics or something! Or, you don’t know, maybe you still smell like Aizawa, even 

“You dirty dog, is that why you didn’t see Aizawa’s thing?” Your stomach somehow sinks lower. “Because you and Tensei fucked?”

Tensei?

“Tensei?”

“Oh my god, you totally did. You’re all flustered!”

You had completely forgotten the man even existed. Beautiful Tensei Iida, the ‘sexy’ doctor Hizashi wanted you to have… it’s funny how things never work out the way you think they will.

“It wasn’t Tensei!” You scooch away. “And it’s not a hickey!” 

Hizashi sees through that lie. He crawls on his hands and knees after you. “You gotta tell me, please-”

Crap. He’s not going to let this go. Sex and all that comes with it is Hizashi’s catnip; once he’s gotten a taste of it, he’s deranged. 

Telling the truth certainly isn’t an option. You and Aizawa? The absolute nuclear fallout that would hit the office if that came out would be catastrophic. Hizashi can’t keep his mouth shut, so even hinting at what happened last night could be the end of whatever weird thing you and Shouta have, killing it before you can even name what it is. 

And being so close to launch? It could potentially hinder Aizawa’s image--

And your and Touya’s relationship.

“It was someone I met at the restaurant after you left-” Not completely a lie. “We just-- kissed, I guess. I didn’t want to, you know, do more.”

Hizashi kicks his feet in excitement. His shoes are on your bed- gross.

“Good for you, setting boundaries!” he says. “That’s growth!”

He goofs around for just a moment longer before settling.

“Why do you look so sad about it?” He’s quick to say.  “Did they do something?”

“No! No, it was nice, but-” you start. The truth feels heavy, yet silly at the same time. You know the reaction you’re about it get, and yet you say it anyway-  “I don't know, I started to think about Touya this morning and-”

Hizashi’s face falls so hard that you swear you can hear it. His hatred of Touya has never been a secret, but before Touya made his disappearing act, he at least kept his comments to a minimum. With no Touya, there’s no limit to Hizashi’s public loathing.

“I love you. So much.” He takes your hand in his. He’s still on his knees, hunched over you awkwardly, those damn shoes still on the bed. “But thought you were over this shitbag.”

You want to protest. He’s not a shitbag, he’s just having a hard time. He’s not a bad guy, the drugs just make him that way. He’s a good boy underneath all of the troubles, you know it’s true.

But you’ve run out of excuses years ago. All you can say is the truth: “I think I still love him.” 

Compassion contorts your friend’s face. “Oh, girl. Girl. You don’t.”

“Hizashi-” You try to slide away, but he doesn’t let you. 

“He treated you like garbage for years. Years!” The blonde squeezes your hand. “And he wasn’t loyal, he wasn’t safe, he wasn’t kind or sober or-” 

“It's not like he abused me or something.” You say it so quickly that it feels tinny on your lips. Both of you go quiet for a second and Hizashi throws his hands up in surrender. He ducks his head low, not in defeat, but in a humble act, like a dog that’s pushed it’s boundaries a bit too far.  With a sigh, he sits back on his knees, allowing there to be space between you.

“I didn't say that,” he says carefully.  “It doesn't have to be abuse, that doesn't mean it's healthy.”  

There’s a hesitation, then he reaches out his hand again. You don’t take it, but he keeps it there, in the air, waiting for you.

“I just care about you. I know ‘muri and I get a bit too pushy and wild sometimes, but it’s because we want you to have fun for once. We-- we want you to be with someone that makes you feel good-- who thinks you’re the best thing in the world,” Hizashi says. “We want you to get what you deserve and Touya isn’t that.”

A different type of warm runs over you- a watery one, one that stings at your eyes. You aren’t sure where the well of emotion has come from, but it’s there, bubbling just under the surface. You try to sniffle without giving yourself away. 

“Would it be so bad to let yourself move on and try something new?” Hizashi smiles.  “Let yourself have a little fun for once?”

Reluctantly, you take his hand. He squeezes and coos, pulling your hand into an awkward faux-hug, right about his heart.

 “Let yourself have fun, let yourself live.”

“I’m gonna try to try.”

--

The convention itself goes smoothly. More people ask about Yagi, but the word seems to be spreading: he’s not here. He’ll never be here. The air is bittersweet, but Hizashi always recovers it for you. He keeps the conversation flowing back to work and the bed, with much more ease than you’ll ever have.

The only time you see Aizawa  is when he’s in your periphery. He’s in the corner, caught in some conversation with people whose names you’ve already forgotten. Tensei’s by his side, basking in the probable praise, while Aizawa just nods along. The presentation must have gone well, you gather from the attention they’re both getting. That’s both good and bad; the work deserves credit, but Aizawa…

What a heavy secret to carry. What a prominent shame. He didn’t want you to see, but he was okay with all of these strangers ogling him like a science experiment. 

Does that make you more important than those strangers? Or less?

You try to look for an opening to leave, but one never seems to come.

Only once do you catch him staring back at you, his expression too far away to be read. The thump of your heart steps out of rhythm for a moment before you get yourself together.

“I see you eyeing up Tensei,” Hizashi teases. “Are you sure he isn’t your mystery man?”

You deny it, but Hizashi is unconvinced.

----

The three of you finally reunite over dinner. This time, Hizashi swears he will stay the whole time.

This time, you don’t want him to.

You’ve settled into a different booth than you were in last night. Again, the chip basket is empty before Aizawa can arrive. He’s always running late for these things, either through lack of effort or lack or lack of time management. If he didn’t have a presentation tomorrow, you’d be annoyed, but you decide to give the man a break.

Though, you do wonder if you’ll be allowed to see this one. You’ll have to go, right? It’s about your company.

“I still can’t believe you managed to pick up Tensei with Aizawa right there.”  Hizashi leans back into the booth.

“It wasn’t Tensei,” you insist. “And he was distracted.”

“By what?”

You aren’t a quick liar. 

“Some girl.” Or a good one. “They went off together.”

You know you’ve fucked up by the look on Hizashi’s face. He sits up, staring at you from over his glasses with a slack jawed amazement.

“You're lying.” He sits up even more. “You're lying straight to my face right now.”

Fear thrums you so hard that your stomach almost revolts on impact. 

“I’ve never seen Shouta pick up a stranger, ever.” Hizashi throws his hands up in the air for effect. “Never, ever. Not even in college! ”

Looking back, you should have said he was struck by lightning. That would have been more believable. From what you remember, Aizawa doesn’t date very often - or at all. You can’t remember if he’s ever brought someone to a work event or even mentioned a partner.  (Which makes you feel equally bad and… special. Are you an exception to his rule? Are you different? 

…Or, more likely, he’s just a private guy. But you can pretend.)

“Well, uh, I dunno what to say.” You still haven’t come up with a better lie. “Ask him yourself.”

“I will!”

Good. That gives you time to text Shouta and warn him about that shit storm he’s about to enter. The two of you can come up with a lie that makes sense and won’t send Hizashi screaming. Suddenly, you’re grateful that Aizawa can’t show up on time for-

“Again with the chips?”

Fuck!!

As if summoned, Aizawa is behind you, shrugging off his jacket. He’s in the same suit as he was earlier, but a lot more disheveled after making it through the day. The social interaction really took it out of him; no wonder he’s so quiet at the office. You pat the seat next to you and he practically slumps into it.

“Please tell me you aren’t escaping again tonight,” he says to Hizashi.

“Oh, no, I’m not going anywhere, trust me.” That smile sets the whole table on guard. “I have too many questions.”

“If you had questions, you should have shown up to the talk,” Aizawa says. “Which went well, by the way. Thank you for asking.”

“You didn’t give me a chance to ask, asshole.”

“Should have been the first words out of your mouth.”

“Well, sorry, Mr. Sensitive. I didn’t think I needed to stroke your ego today! Should I start singing your praises now, or after we verbally jack you off for a bit?”

“We are in public, Mic, stop talking about jacking off.”

“How was your presentation, oh smart one?”

“It was--”  Aizawa stops himself mid sentence, brow furrowed as he turns directly towards you. “You’re being quiet.”

“Me?” you point to yourself as if you don’t know the answer. The accusation makes your heart race- or maybe it’s those sharp eyes, boring down into you. 

“Why are you being quiet?” he says with an accusatory glare. “What did you do?”

Hizashi erupts into a giggle and the attention is finally turned away from you. 

“I heard that you went home with someone-”

Aizawa’s gaze snaps to you.  It takes effort to press your lips down and keep a neutral expression; anxiety is trilling inside you, high and frail and wild, like a little flute in a marching band finale. The man tilts his head just a bit, eyes sharp and questioning, clearly trying to interrogate you while completely silent.

“Where did you hear that, Yamada?” Aizawa’s tone isn’t flat now. No, it’s pressed, stressed; he thinks you’ve told him everything. You try to gesture with just your eyes -- three normal blinks and wide eyes, like a makeshift morse code. This obviously fails.

“Little miss girl here-” Hizashi waggles his eyebrows and Aizawa’s pupils dilate with fear-  “told you you went home with a stranger from the restaurant.” 

Realization hits Aizawa’s expression, then, relaxation. His whole body turns to you with a belabored sigh. “You little snitch.”  

The smile you’ve been trying to fight erupts across your face.  You burst into a nervous giggle, one that you have to silence with your own hand. This is a dangerous line you’re walking; Hizashi isn’t a stupid guy- he’s going to figure out something’s wrong if either of you slip up.

“It’s true?” Hizashi gasps. “What? You? You?”

“Is it really so weird that I had sex with someone?” Aizawa says.  “You do it all the time.”

“You aren’t a hook up guy!” Hizashi peers from over his glasses.  “You’re a ‘third date and a bottle of wine’ guy!”

“When have I ever had a bottle of wine?”

“Okay, ‘third date and an air of desperation.’ How's that?”

Aizawa  wrinkles his nose and bares his teeth, barking out a canned laugh. “Ha. Ha. Ha. Fuck off.” 

The shorter man sits back in his seat and uses his drink to gesture to you. “Why don’t you harass Miss Hickey over there instead?”

The attention shifts to you for only a moment before Hizashi waves you away with the back of his hand. He shifts forward on to his elbows, directly towards his friend..“She just made out with a guy, I don’t care about that-”

“-Hey!” you object. As if Aizawa isn’t the reason you’re bruised in the first place! The dark haired man is purposefully looking down his nose at you, expression taut. 

“Sorry, but I need every nitty gritty detail of Shouta’s night ASAP. “ Hizashi grinds you back on track.

The two of them have been friends since college, you remember. You’d never really been able to see the connection before; they’re both so different that they almost seem like they’d never mesh, but today they are huddled together like boys, mirroring each other’s movements. You wonder if there were lots of nights like these, gossiping over girls and wild nights.

Did Hizashi know him before the car accident?

“I’ll tell you later, Mic,” Aizawa says.  “After she’s gone.”

It’d be best to stay quiet, but you can’t bring yourself to be purposefully excluded.

“You don’t want to get dirty in front of me, huh?” you tease. Besides, you’d like to see what he comes up with. “I can handle it.”

He doesn’t take the bait. “I’m not a sharer.”

You turn away with a little shrug. “Hm.”

Aizawa almost doesn’t respond. The gears turn behind his eyes, slowly grinding away at his patience until he grits out a little: “What?” 

His knee bumps into yours under the table. It’s fleeting, but there. 

“I was just thinking-” you start. “Maybe you’re a bit of a coward.”

“Coward?” he replies.

“Afraid to gossip-” 

It’s Aizawa’s turn to huff. “Gentlemen don’t gossip.”

“Since when are you a gentleman?” Hizashi barks out a laugh.

With another exhale, Aizawa closes his eyes. A moment, then another passes, before he opens them again, one brow raised. It’s the same expression a teacher would give to the class after too much clownery. No wonder the interns are terrified of the man, you’d be scared too if you weren’t so excited to see where this is going. 

“You really want me to tell you what I did last night?” He’s deadpan. “Really?”

Both of you nod. 

“Fine.” He throws his hands up in defeat.  “I met this woman at the bar. Bought her a cocktail-”

“What kind of cocktail?” you interject.

“What?” Aizawa stares at you, lip curled in frustration. You’re making lying harder and you know that, but excitement is driving you forward. The risk doesn’t outweigh the reward quite yet. “I don’t know- something sweet.”

“Hm.”

“Margarita. The spicy kind. She tasted like it all night.”

Aizawa is alarmingly good at lying. He does it with a straight face, minus the telltale curl of his lip, but Hizashi doesn’t seem to notice. He’s too busy sitting on the edge of his seat. You’re still trying to reconcile all of the versions of him inside your head: the work version, the ‘lover’ you met, and this lackadaisical liar. 

“Keep going.” Hizashi urges.

“Then we went back to her room. Didn’t even make it to the bed.”

The way he lays down each word is slow, meticulous, purposeful; the narrative he builds is crafted especially for you, but you aren’t quite sure of his goal. 

“ Is that enough detail?”

“Boo-” Hizashi’s fanning the flame now too. “Not the fade to black storytelling!”

Aizawa ducks in close, resting on his forearms as he talks. His gaze flicks between you and Hizashi, but lingers much longer on you, flickering down to your lips every now and again. His timbre drops lower, gritty, rolling as he whispers. 

“We went back to her room-”

You’re watching his mouth a bit too intensely. 

“- I got on my hands and knees-”

He enunciates it slowly, so neither of you miss a moment. A shiver goes up your spine. There’s a weight to his breath, a genuine enjoyment. Would he get on his knees for you?

“And I  begged to eat her out.” 

He’s proud of it. Oh, he would get down for you. He’d plead for the privilege. His leg brushes against yours again, this time with pressure and purpose, and your skin crawls with excitement. It’s just a story. You know it’s not true. 

But the glint in his eye says that he wishes it wasn’t.

“And?” your voice shakes a bit. That’s his goal, isn’t it? To get you riled up? To make you regret forcing him into this situation?

Aizawa rubs the spot where his jaw connects with a slow, purposeful circle, like he’s trying to rub out a kinked muscle. It’s borderline boastful. “And that’s how I spent the night.”

Hizashi tips his head back and laughs so loudly that the table next to you stares. “Good for you!”

“Good for her,” Aizawa replies.

Hizashi rolls his eyes. “I almost forgot you’re a munch. It’s been so long since you’ve gotten any, so-”

“Watch it, Hizashi.”

You regret the question before you ask it. “Uh, what’s a munch?”

Both of them look at you.

“Well, it’s clearly not Touya,” Hizashi mumbles, and you shoot him a glare. 

“It’s a slang term for someone who really enjoys…” Aizawa trails off, cocking his head expectantly. 

“Eating pussy,” Hizashi finishes for him. 

Another thrill of excitement goes up your spine. Enjoys it? Is that even possible? The idea has you woozy. 

“Yeah, that’s totally not Touya,” you manage to say.

Hizashi makes another comment, but you can’t force yourself to focus on that. No, not when your heart is beating like this. It’s just words, a fake story, but there’s a silent promise to it as well. You wonder what would have happened last night if you said yes. Would he have spent the night between your legs, eating simply for your pleasure?

Want trembles in your hands as you pretend to check your phone. Is it pathetic? To be worked up over a silly little story, made up to cover your tracks? The waiter comes, you all order. Aizawa’s knee pumps against yours- once accidentally, once on purpose. You hope he doesn’t notice how you’re squirming in your seat, trying to ignore the way your body is craving pressure and attention. You think, maybe, if you move right, you could get the seam of your pants to hit just right-

What are you doing? This is pathetic. 

“I’m going to go to the bathroom.” You don’t wait for a response. Pushing up from the table, you turn down the back of the restaurant. The signs lead you into a little back hallway, tucked by the kitchen, where the lighting is respectfully dim. You have to wait a moment because the door is locked, but you don’t mind. It gives you time to mull over everything.

Maybe Hizashi is right; maybe it’s okay to try something new. It’s been years since you’ve felt this alive with someone, this excited to get something more. With Touya, sex became more of an obligation. Maybe it could be different with someone else. Maybe it could be something fun, something-

A hand catches you by the back of your shirt, not hard enough to yank you backwards, but firm enough to stop you in your tracks.  A gasp squeaks out of you as you stagger back into the chest of the man behind you. You crank around to see- only to relax when you realize it’s just Aizawa.

“You scared me,” you mumble out a lament. 

“You little sneak.” With a thumb, he tilts your chin up, so far that you’re looking back at him. His other fingers press ever so nicely into the length of your neck, drawing you back into his chest. There’s nothing constricting your breath, but suddenly your lungs are empty, breathless, and your parted lips pull nothing in. Aizawa’s dark eyes are narrowed, boring straight down into yours.

Oh, he’s pissed. 

And, for the first time, that excites you.

“You like making me sweat, don’t you?” His free hand is looped around your waist, holding you much tighter than the other. “Almost getting us caught-- You make me so mad sometimes.” 

The kitchen is full of mumbled orders and the clang of dishware. It echoes through the dark hall you’ve trapped yourselves in, you aren’t alone, no matter how badly you wish it to be true.  

“Thought you liked me,” you whisper.

You swear there’s a subtle dilation to his eyes, involuntary. Real. “I do.”

He leans over and dots a simple kiss on to your forehead, right where your hair meets skin. It’s simple, soft, but, god, it sets everything inside you into this wet, wobbly, needy heat, something soft and harsh all at once.

“Even when you piss me off.” The hand around your neck twitches playfully, with no real constriction. 

It’s cliche, you think, how you just sort of watch each other, breathless, patient. Neither of you tries to make a move, locked together. He smells good. Not like anything you can name, just… good.  It’s the same good you feel in your chest and an equal good to how your hands feel when you reach backwards and grab his hips. 

“I’m starting to think you like making me mad.”

“Shouta-” you say his name because he likes it, because it makes him lean in closer to you-

The bathroom door flies open and you both pull away like you’ve touched a hot stove. The woman who exists definitely knows something’s up; she rolls her eyes and sends a text on her phone as she passes. The two of you share a look; you, relieved, Aizawa amused. It’s as if you're sixteen again, with this fluttering feeling in your stomach you can’t quite swallow down. It’s too bright to be anxiety.

Aizawa steps back a bit with a nod. Oh, right, the bathroom. You don’t actually have to go, but it would be silly to not go in now. Maybe you can just try to go-

You look back at your Aizawa.

Or maybe.

Or maybe you can have some fun.

With uncharacteristic confidence, you hook a finger under a button of his shirt and tug. Aizawa’s face goes bright with realization. He falls into following as you guide him forward into the bathroom, step by awkward step, backwards until the door opens against your weight. Aizawa glances around before the door closes after him, making sure to remain unspotted, then turns to you with a wicked, narrowed, glowering look. 

The bathroom is simple, but nice. The lighting is sharp and bright, the floor is white and clean. A decorative table is wedged into the corner, topped with extra towels and real flowers in water. Your brain can’t process more than that- not with a dark haired man wrapped around your finger. He has the forethought to lock the door behind him.

“What are you doing-?” he grumbles wickedly, ducking down to catch you in a kiss, but you don’t let him make contact. You dip away, drawing him further and further in, until you’re backed against the little decorative table. With his weight, he shifts you back until your ass is seated properly on that wiggly table, one hand back to brace yourself. Finally, he traps you, stubble rough against your cheek, lips soft against yours.

“I thought we were going slow,” he says into your lips. You don’t respond-- you can’t. Your breath is stolen from your lungs, the need to breathe replaced with the need for him, the need for touch-

You hook a leg over his waist and his hand flies to it, folding it higher, pulling it tighter. 

“Oh, you can’t help it, can you?” he mumbles. “One little story about eating pussy has you desperate for it, huh?”

“Y-you-” You hate that you can’t dirty talk smoothly like he can.

“Yeah?” He’s almost condescending. “Yeah? What does my girl want?”

Embarrassment floods your cheeks with heat. Aizawa waits for it, hovering above you. Oh, he won’t give it to you until you really ask, will he? You have to physically brace yourself to say it.

“Will you kiss it?” you ask, much meeker than intended. 

“Kiss ‘it’?” You expect him to keep picking at you, but instead his hands are busy unbuttoning your pants, guiding them down. “Do you mean-”

His lips find your hickey and the spot aches under the connection. “Here?”

Creeping lower, he hunches over your chest. This time, he pecks at the hem of your shirt. “Here?”

Down he goes, on to his knees. This kiss lands in your stomach, right where the tightness of want sits-

“Here?”

“Shouta-” You’re mad and annoyed and you’d frankly settle for him kissing you anywhere at this point-

Hands slip your pants down past your knees. When the air hits your skin, you suddenly realize just how wet you are, how it’s bled through your panties and smeared across your thigh. Before you can process anything, his mouth is over your clothed cunt, wide mouthed and kissing. The drag of his tongue is a lot, even though the fabric; the contact has your spine flexing all on its own.

“Here?”

“There, there,” You’re clinging on to handfuls of his hair already. “Right there.”

But Aizawa doesn’t kiss you again. 

“In a public bathroom?” He’s watching you from the floor. Your leg is looped over his back. He’s surprisingly wide and thick under you; your legs have to spread so far to fit him. God, your body is plaint enough that it just gives to his pushing hands and demands.

 “You like it nasty.”

You can’t bring yourself to respond. Your brain is fried with a deadly combination of horny and embarrassed. Is this really what you want? 

“No, you don’t like it dirty, do you?” It feels like he’s reading your mind, hands kneading your thighs with a growing hunger. He plants a kiss where your legs meets your underwear and your cunt pulses in response. “My girl just needs it so bad, doesn’t she?”

Teeth sink into your inner thigh and you kick in response: another fucking hickey. The thing that got you into this mess-

“That’s right, my girl.” He’s talking to himself now, mumbling just under his breath. A finger loops under your panties, the same way your finger looped under his button, and there’s no time to feel shame before he exposes your pussy.  “You went home with me.” 

You expect him to go straight for your clit, to devour you with the fucking need that’s been building between you all goddamn night-

But, instead, he touches his lips to the crest of your mons and breathes. It’s hot, molten, pours down you like molten lava. It’s the faintest, tickling touch, but it’s enough, it’s more than enough. A moan rips out of you, so unexpected that you jump at your own voice. 

Usually, when you have sex, you’re worried about the small things. Whether or not you’ve shaved, whether you look thin enough or pretty enough, but now, the only thing you can think about is being touched, needing touch, desiring touch.

And the time.

“We-” He hasn’t even started and you’re quivering for it. “We gotta hurry before Mic-”

“I promised you-” Aizawa says, firmly. “That we’d go slow.”

Finally, gloriously, you feel the hot press of his tongue, dragging up through your excitement. Every inch he takes is painstakingly slow until he hits the nub of your clit. That contact is fast, fleeting, but it still sends you keening and gasping. Every important muscle inside you is bunched and coiled, filled with enough potential energy to set the whole fucking restaurant on fire. You’re going to cum. You’re going to cum from practically nothing.

The vase of flowers on the table is overturned. You don’t even remember knocking it over. Water pools under your ass and everything is wet, from you, to the mess, to his drool across your inner thigh. His mouth closed over you the same way someone would eat a peach, sucking with this absurdly lewd sound as if he’s afraid to let any of your excitement escape. His jaw moves slow - just like he fucking promised- and doesn’t miss an inch of skin as he closes his mouth, lips coming closed around your clit. The pressure feels heavenly against the already puffy parts of your pussy and your hands clasp his dark locks tighter. You aren’t sure if you’re trying to pull him away or pull him closer; your body is just reacting, like neurons are firing all on their own.

Fingers clamp around your thighs. Aizawa is groaning, voice so low it vibrates against you, as if he’s the one receiving it, not you. Enjoys eating pussy… the memory rings through your skull. Fuck, what an understatement; he eats pussy like he needs it to live. His eyes are lidded heavy with pleasure. Every lick and suck and touch along the tapestry of your cunt is wet and wild, but aggravatingly skilled. The heat of his mouth against your clit - firm, but not hard- is enough to steal your breath away.

Then, he pulls away, and your pleasure begins to unravel-- unfairly fast. You hadn’t realized how close to the precipice you had been until you started falling away. The feeling is disastrous. 

He speaks with a heady exhale, warm and not nearly enough. “You taste-”

“Shut up,” Now you’re definitely pulling his face back towards you this time. “Shut up, shut up, shut up-”

He silences himself with your cunt. 

This time, there’s no savoring. His lips and tongue are on your clit, sucking in mouthfuls of your folds, bouncing against the involuntary roll of your hips. Everything inside you is hot and sticky, thick like honey. You’re saying something, maybe, but it’s all high pitched and garbled. The rub from Aizawa's stubble sends a chill up your spine and the hot and cold inside you melts into something smooth-

You can feel your orgasm coming long before it hits, everything inside you pulling high and tight, like the ocean rolling before a wave. The crest hasn't hit, but it's going to come, you're going to cum-

And then you look down, and Aizawa's staring back at you, with those dark, hooded eyes, and you unravel. It’s not my other orgasms you've had: a full body feeling, like the flush to warmth you get when alcohol hits your stomach. It rolls, through you, away from you, against you- in every fucking direction until every ounce of tension is smoothed from your muscles. Boneless had always sounded silly, but now you understand exactly what it means; you slump back and try to catch your breath.

Aizawa’s movements slow, but never stop. He runs the flat face of his tongue against you until you gather the energy you shove him back. For a split second, a string of your cum ties between you and his mouth.

“Shit,” you breathe. Your surroundings feel more tangible suddenly. The sink drips, the walls echo the restaurant’s soft muzak, Aizawa’s cheeks glimmer with your wetness: it’s all suddenly real.

“I cannot believe-” He wipes his face on his sleeve.

“Shit,” you repeat. That was insane. You were insane! Your friend is waiting at the table, probably wondering what happened to you two-

“-that you let me do that. You came so--”

“Shit.” This is exactly what you needed. “I’ve never-”

Aizawa sits back on his knees with a stiff grunt. “Don’t tell me you’ve never orgasmed before.”

“No! I’ve totally-” You awkwardly shimmy up your pants and instantly regret it. It’s wet. It’s cold. “No one’s ever gone down on me before.”

Aizawa gives you the slowest, longest blink you’ve ever seen. Then, he shakes his head and stands up, brushing his pants off. You debate asking if his leg hurts, but decide against it. “How do you continuously say things that make me want to go insane?” 

He huffs about it, but you’re starting to unravel the strings of affection he weaves into his sentences. You shrug, biting back your smile.

“I’m just special, I guess.”

Eyes closed, he gives you a nod, tempering himself.

“Go back to the table before we’re caught.”

Fuck-- that’s right. You two have been gone for long enough that it's starting to get suspicious. Besides, there’s going to be a line outside the door if you don’t get moving soon- if there isn’t a line already. You quickly check your outfit and adjust your hair in the mirror; your skin looks brighter than usual. The power of an orgasm, you guess.

“Don’t  you want me to…?” You give a little jerk off motion and Aizawa rolls his eyes at the behavior-- as if he didn’t just eat your pussy in a fucking bathroom.

“I don’t want you to do anything to me,” he insists. He helps you off of the table with a hand, then ushers you towards the locked door. “I want to lay you down and eat you out until your brain factory resets like a cheap Macbook.”

He’s already done that, but okay, you could be down for more-

“But we are in a bathroom.” He gestures around him.  “In a restaurant.”

You add: “With Hizashi waiting.”

“With Mic waiting. He’s smart- he’ll figure us out if we aren’t careful,” he agrees. “Now, get out there and cover me.”

Suddenly, Aizawa leans over and kisses you. It’s not deep, but you can taste your musk on his lips and that makes your spine thrill with excitement.  It’s illicit in a way that makes you feel young and happy and, and, and-

And all those weird, indescribable highs you get when your brain is drowned in dopamine and oxytocin. For a fleeting moment, you reach out and grab his hands, holding on for only a squeeze.

“Your room tonight?” you ask when he pulls away. Your head is still racing, head still swimming-

He grimaces. “Yours has better pillows.”

“I brought them from home.” He was in your bed last night, in your pussy moments ago, but the fact he knows your pillow feels so strangely intimate. “I like silk pillowcases.”

The expression in his face softens, just at the crowed corner of his eyes. “Of course you do.” He jerks his chin towards the door.  “Get going.”

“Sho-”

“Get.”

And you walk out with wobbly knees.

[cntloup]

18+ MDNI Simon preventing you, his lovely wife from going to work

look at him what a cutie patootie :3

He grabs you by the waist and pulls you onto his lap as he sits on the edge of the bed, peppering kisses on your face and making you giggle.

"Siii!! I have to go to work!" you whine in between giggles.

"No, lovie. My wife doesn't have to work." he retorts, voice low and gruff, it makes your pussy throb.

He lays you down on the bed, "Just lie back and look pretty f'me! Yeah?" he murmurs into your neck, brushing his lips against your sensitive skin.

All the while kneading the plush of your breasts under your (his) shirt with his rough hands and twiddling your nipples with his calloused fingers, making you moan softly in his ear. Even the slightest of his touch makes you feel floaty.

"I'll call your boss, lovie. Don't worry." he says with a glint in his eyes.

"Hmm...Ok, Mr. Riley!" you hum, grinning widely. That sure sounds tempting.

He pulls at the hem of your panties, awaiting your approval and you nod eagerly.

He removes them and spreads your legs, shiny pussy on display for him.

"So pretty, baby!" he coos and kisses your clit, making you shiver.

He takes his weeping cock out of his sweatpants and settles between your legs, his hands running up and down the soft skin of your thighs.

He kisses your lips as he lines himself up at your entrance and gently pushes the tip inside.

He pulls back to watch your reaction and goes on when he sees nothing but pleasure sparkling in your eyes, your lips falling open and a soft whimper slipping through.

He locks your lips together again as he readily slides inside your slick warmth further and further.

He swallows your gasped-out moan, his chest rumbling with a deep groan as he's deep inside you.

He pulls away ever so slightly, "You ok, love?" he asks with concern.

"Yess, baby! Please move!" you plead desperately, swaddling his waist tighter with your legs.

"Patience, baby! There's no rush. You're all mine today." he purrs, leaning in to kiss you again, moaning at your sweet taste on his tongue and the divine sensation of your warm walls enfolding his pulsating cock.

"Wish we could stay like this forever." he croons, softly kissing the skin below your ear and you hum contently with a smile.

You whimper and mewl, clutching his shoulders and squeezing your eyes shut as he gently thrusts into you.

You feel a tingle behind your eyes and soon, droplets of tears quietly flow down the sides of your face.

He kisses your tears away, knowing fully well how you feel, his own heart fluttering with all the love and devotion he holds for you.

"I love you." he whispers so as not to disrupt the tender moment.

"I love you too, Si." you murmur, looking at him through lidded glossy eyes, fully absorbed in his warmth, saturated with his love.

You cup his face in your hands and pull him in for yet another loving kiss.

Your lips move rhythmically against each other, moaning and whimpering into the kiss as he tenderly makes love to you.

You feel the familiar warm sensation pooling up in your belly.

And within moments, your back arches off the sheets, your thighs tremble and squeeze tighter around him as you cry out his name.

His chest reverberates against yours with a low growl as you sense the warmth filling up your womb.

He kisses your lips, tightening his hold on you and staying inside you while resting his head on your shoulder.

And your hearts swell with love and happiness in each other's arms.

comments/reblogs are greatly appreciated ♥ 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Code of Conduct 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as cheating, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your boss has a difficult time keeping his personal life from bleeding into his work. 

Characters: Steve Rogers, this reader is known as Rosie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

“Mr. Rogers’ office. This is Rosie, how can I hel--” 

“Where is he?” Peggy’s voice cuts over your own. 

“Oh, hello, Mrs. Rogers, he’s currently in a meeting--” 

“Get him.” 

“Mrs.--” 

“Don’t argue with me. Go get him. Are you not his assistant?” She challenges brusquely. 

Her accent adds to the sharpness of her words. Her curt demeanour is a stark contrast to her husband. Your boss is always amiable, accommodating even, but the few times you’ve dealt with his wife have been similarly tense. You put a smile on so she can’t hear your anxiety. 

“Of course, Mrs. Rogers,” you preen, “I’ll put you on a quick hold.” 

“No, you will get him. No hold.” 

You suck in a sigh and hold your breath in your chest, “of course.” 

You set the phone down. You don’t see how her hearing your desktop will be any better but you wouldn’t want to irritate her further. It must be urgent. 

You stand and smooth out your dress. You step out from behind your desk, digging your nails into your palms as you ball your fists tight. You get nervous about most things. Answering the phone took your months to get used to and even now you tend to fumble over your words. 

You go to the door and brace yourself. You don’t know why you expect Mr. Rogers to be upset. He’s never been anything close to rude. Maybe short in times of stress but not unpleasant. You knock and wait as you twiddle your fingers against your striped pleats. 

It isn’t Mr. Rogers who answers by Mr. Barnes. You give a sheepish smile, “excuse me, doll.” 

He steps past you and you bid him a good day. He leaves without further courtesy and Mr. Rogers calls your name from within, “need something?” He asks. 

“Oh, yes, Mrs. Rogers is on the phone.” 

He doesn’t seem happy about that. His cheek dimples and he nods, wiggling his pen at you, “patch her through.” 

You go back to your desk and pick up the receiver, “hello, Mrs. Rogers, he’s available now--” 

“I don’t want to talk to you, honey. Where is my husband?” 

You transfer her without another word. Phew. You almost feel bad for your boss as you hear him pick up in his office. His tone is low and dull. 

You try not to overhear, letting his conversation drone into a buzz. There’s enough work to be done without worrying about his personal life. Your own afterhours concerns are more than concerning. You wouldn’t say you have much going on and that’s the problem. It’s moment like those that ease your envy of others’ full plates. 

You haven’t seen the girls lately. The group chat’s been quiet but you suppose you could go ahead and say hi. Your weekly cocktails petered out to biweekly, then monthly, and now you can’t remember the last time you let go with a mimosa. 

You peek over your desk and back at your screen. It’s not only on them to keep things going. You pick up your phone and open the chat. The last message is a meme Elfie sent about printers. You shake your head and send a little waving sticker, keying in a message. 

‘Long time no see! I’m in need of drinks. Anyone free? When’s best? Hope you’re all taking care.’ 

You’re professional tone shines through even on WhatsApp. It’s a bit lame but you’re an entirely different person in text. Most people are surprised to meet the mousy secretary hiding behind her screen after the lively back and forth in Outlook. 

You set your phone down and try not to stare at it. A reply never comes while you’re waiting for it, nor does water boil when you’re watching it. As you click around and try to remember where you were, the silence sinks in. Your realisation brings your eyes up as quickly as Mr. Rogers shadow. 

You bat your lashes at him in surprise, “need something, sir?” 

He gives a half-smile, the type weighed down by disappointment. He sighs and crosses his arms, leaning on the door frame, “you hungry?” 

“Um, well, it’s only eleven,” you shrug. 

“Mm, yeah,” he unfolds one arm to rub his neck, “I’m restless. You feel like getting lunch early?” 

“Sure, I can run out and grab you something,” you stand eagerly. 

“No, uh,” he drops his arm back over his other, “together. I had a reservation for me and Peggy but she canceled. I’d hate to inconvenience the restaurant and I just can’t sit and mope in my office.” 

“Oh, okay, I guess that works...” 

“Do you need to ask your boss?” He scoffs. 

You laugh at his joke, “do I?” 

He smiles, a real smile and drops his arms, “my treat. You know what, you earned it. You work so hard around here, a little employee appreciation is overdue.” 

“That’s so nice,” you chime, “uh, sir, I... I should leave an away message, should I?” 

“Oh, who cares, come on.” 

“Well, I mean...” 

“Ah, I get it, boss is a real hard ass,” he winks. 

“Sir,” you giggle nervously and teethe your lip. He watches your mouth. 

“You can catch up later. Come on, I haven’t played hooky in years.” 

“Hooky?” You stammer. 

He laughs, “a goody two shoes. It’s why I hired you but it’s okay to let loose once in a while.” 

“I know, Mr. Rogers, it’s just... it’s work.” 

“Too much of it and you’ll turn into me,” he huffs. “Please, I’m sure your husband would hate if you were never home. Never answered the phone.” 

“If I had one, probably,” you blurt out then look away shyly. 

“Really? I thought...” he begins and shakes his head, “doesn’t matter. I’ll grab my jacket and we’ll go. I missed breakfast.” 

“Um, sure, sir,” you agree and put your hand on the phone. 

When he turns, you look down. Missie sent a reply; ‘please, drinks are required!’ Ooh! Yay. 

[disaster-writer]

Teenage Dirtbag (Part 2/3)

Pairing: Rodrick Heffley x Reader

Summary: You and Rodrick Heffley grew up right next door to each other. You’re best friends and nothing could ever change that… at least that’s what you’ve always thought.

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: I broke part 2 up into two so there will now be three parts to this fic

Part 1

“This is so weird,” Greg whispered to David and Rowley, both currently sitting on either side of him, all three of them crowded around the TV as Greg played Twisted Wizard “Are they still doing it?”

Rowley glanced behind him, “Yeah…” he answered uneasily, “Did something happen?”

"Not that I know of," David shrugged.

"Me neither."

All three of them turned around again, the sight sending a chill down their spines.

It should have been just like any other Saturday. Rodrick grounded as usual. You coming over to hang out with Rodrick despite his punishment. Greg and his friends playing video games. And both parents out with Manny.

Only it wasn't like any other Saturday. Because instead of choosing to hang out in Rodrick's room or torturing the kids (which tended to be your only hobbies you could think of when one of you was grounded), both you and Rodrick were sitting on either side of the couch, an entire cushion apart and stiff as a board. You guys weren't talking-- in fact Greg could have sworn you guys haven't even looked at each other since you showed up. All you two were doing was watching the video game as well. It was so out of character for you both that the boys were completely creeped out... they were starting to wish you two were all over each other like usual just to have that sense of normalcy... even if that meant hunting them down and beating on them or making fun of them.

It was your fault really. You thought you could just show up to the Heffley's and hang out with Rodrick, pretending that nothing happened last night.

Turns out a teenage boy can't just pretend that they didn't witness their best friend dancing around completely naked. And turns out you can't just pretend your best friend didn't see you in all your glory.

You played with the rings on your fingers, fidgeting to try and distract yourself from the elephant in the room. Should you bring it up and try to laugh it off? Try and carry on as if he saw nothing? Maybe a subtle joke about making sure your blinds were closed before getting changed?

Fuck-- nothing this mortifying has ever happened to you before. 

You and your friends were practically known for being too stupid to be embarrassed about anything. There was nothing that you guys ever did that kept you from showing your faces around school. Not the time that Rodrick made a complete fool of himself at Heather's Sweet 16 and still having the audacity to ask her out right after, not the time you and the rest of Löded Diper were hanging out backstage during an assembly and you told the guys you thought Mr. Andrews was hot without knowing that the overhead mic's were on and the entire assembly heard you, and not even the time you and the guys delivered a presentation high out of your fucking minds.

But for some reason, even though Rodrick was the only other person involved, you felt liked you'd never be able to live this down.

"Cool!" David exclaimed, "My mom just texted me that she can take all of us out for ice cream right now!"

"Really!?" Rowley shouted excitedly.

"Awesome! Let's go!" Greg said, pausing the game and throwing the controller on the ground as the boys then ran for the door and got their shoes on before running outside to meet your mom.

And now... that makes two.

You both continued to sit awkwardly, twiddling your thumbs and shifting in your seats.

You don't know how much time passed before Rodrick was the one to break the silence.

"So..." you pursed your lips, waiting for the bomb, "You never told me you had a tattoo on your hip."

At that you folded in on yourself, burying your face in your hands, "Let's not do this," you groaned out, words muffled by your hands. "It's too embarrassing."

"It wasn't that��bad," Rodrick tried to offer.

"Yes it was. That was completely humiliating last night."

“It could’ve been worse.”

”Yeah? How?” You grumbled into your hands.

”I mean…” he trailed off, picking at a pink thread from his jeans, “You could… have the body of a sixty year old…”

You paused, “How would I— y’know what? Nevermind,” you stood up, “I’m gonna go. It’s too weird, maybe when we’ve both had some space—“

”No!” Rodrick grasped your wrist, stopping you short, “You don’t need to leave— I’m telling you it wasn’t that bad!”

You set your jaw, looking down at him. The sudden nervousness that radiated from him was palpable as he broke eye contact, glanced down at where his hand wrapped around your wrist and quickly let go.

”See! Right there!”

”Right there what!?” He yelled back, staring at his lap with a growing blush.

”This is weird and I’m going—“ 

Just as you took another step Rodrick shot up from his seat, “No it’s not! We just need to do something normal—once we hang out like normal we’ll forget all about it!”

”Like what?” You crossed your arms, looking at him skeptically.

”Like- like,” you watched as Rodrick frantically searched his brain for an idea, “We can go to the arcade!”

”You’re grounded dumbass,” you rolled your eyes.

”Susan’s not gonna be home for at least another three hours. We can go for two and be back and she’ll never know!”

You shifted on your feet, weighing your options. You could both get in trouble yes, but it did beat being bored at home or spending the next three hours in uncomfortable silence.

And you suppose he had a point. The event was still fresh and was just weighing heavily on your minds. Time would heal the awkward air and getting back into the swing of things would hopefully ease the awkwardness.

Pretty soon you’d both forget the entire thing even happened.

——

”What are you doing?”

Rodrick had pulled away so quickly from his blinds you would have thought they had burned him.

”Nothing you little shit— what are you doing in my room!” He had spat at Greg who stood awkwardly by his steps.

”Mom says dinner is ready— are you spying on (Y/N) or something?”

”No,” his voice cracked to which he quickly cleared, “Get out!” He scrambled to yank his shoe off which he had then chucked at his younger brother.

”Okay!” Greg yelled before stumbling down the stairs.

Rodrick Heffley was convinced that he was losing his mind. 

It had been five nights since he had witnessed you dancing around naked in your bedroom. 

In other words, it had been five nights checking to see if he could catch you dancing around naked again.

He couldn’t help it. He was a teenage boy that had never seen a girl naked that wasn’t in a magazine or online.

And until recently he didn’t even believe you had all those same… parts as the girls he stared at.

But you did. And he saw them. And he came to the fast realization that he wanted to see them again.

And gingerly, for the umpteenth time that night, he had stuck his fingers into his blinds and pulled it down to peak through them.

You were still sitting in bed in your Löded Diper t-shirt, trying to catch up on what he assumed to be late homework.

He had truly fooled himself into thinking things could go back to normal. You had always been one of the guys— an honorable member of Löded Diper, you were practically the manager at this point. You had both grown up together and probably spent more time with each other than with your own respective siblings. 

It’s been five days, he should be past this by now.

But he wasn’t.

Instead he started to notice all the things that made you a girl— an actual breathing girl that wanted to talk to him.

He had never noticed just how girlish your laugh was, it typically ended with a snort to which he would always scrunch his nose at but as it turned out the melodic laughter that preceded those snorts was actually quite… cute— in a way.

Even the simple gesture of you brushing your hair back behind your ear had made— what was the saying? Well, whatever it was it made him feel like moths were chewing at his stomach lining.

Or even—

“Rodrick!”

His blinds snapped shut upon removing his fingers, “I’m coming!” He called back in annoyance before stomping downstairs.

Making his way into the dining room, he found his family had already started eating without him— not that he really gave a shit. He wordlessly plopped down in his seat and picked up his fork.

He stabbed the meat on his plate and took a bite out of it, not bothering to cut it, instead opting to let the rest hang off the fork.

His mom had served chicken francese tonight.

Chicken francese was your favorite.

Rodrick grimaced— even chicken was making him think of you.

”What? You don’t like it?” Susan asked with a huff at Rodrick’s reaction.

”What? No—“

”No I don’t want to hear it. If you don’t like it that much then you might as well take it to (Y/N). At least she appreciates my cooking.”

“I can go over to (Y/N)’s? Even though I’m grounded?” He suddenly asked with a mouth full of food and an eagerness that was making Frank raise his eyebrow. He looked about ready to jump out of his seat and run out the front door.

“No!” Susan snapped, affronted, “Eat your dinner. And don’t talk with your mouth full.”

Rodrick seemed to deflate, picking up the fork he had dropped onto his plate and taking another bite.

A silence fell over the family, the sounds of metal scratching against ceramic and chewing filling the space.

That was until Frank cleared his throat, “So, uh, speaking of (Y/N)…” Rodrick’s head snapped up towards his father in terror, and he shifted nervously… there was no way he actually knew what had happened right? “You two seem closer…” he trailed off awkwardly.

Rodrick glanced at Greg who started snickering— did he know something? Did he tell their dad he had seen you naked? Or maybe that he caught him peeping on you through his blinds before?

He kicked him hard under the table, making the plates and cutlery rattle atop the table.

“Ow!” Greg cried.

”Rodrick!” Susan reprimanded.

”We’ve always been close,” Rodrick answered, ignoring his mom, “Everyone knows that,” he said with an awkward laugh.

”Yeah, but l mean recently—“

”Recently what? Nothing’s changed recently, everything’s the same,” he rambled, scratching the back of his ear with a blush he prayed no one saw.

”Okay, look,” Frank lowered his voice, leaning towards his son, “I wanted to have this conversation in private but your mother—“

”(Y/N) is like family so I think this should be discussed as a family.”

Rodrick’s eyes widened as he realized what was happening, he glanced at Greg who looked like it was Christmas morning.

”Are you and (Y/N) dating?” Susan asked.

Greg immediately started laughing.

”What? No—“ he looked back and forth between his parents, “It’s (Y/N)— that would be gross, y’know, ew—“ he spluttered, though not as convincingly as he would have a week ago.

”Are you sure?” Frank asked— he clearly wasn’t buying it. “Because your mother brought up a good point the other day. Did something happen between you two over the summer when you went on vacation with your friends?”

Okay, now he was confused.

”Huh?” 

“Because it’s okay if it did,” Susan interjected, “We all love (Y/N), right Greg?”

”Yeah, I guess,” he grumbled with a shrug, stabbing his own chicken.

”Nothing happened on vacation,” Rodrick answered honestly— why would they even think that?

”You’re sure?” Frank asked, “Because you two seem to be a lot closer since that trip.”

Rodrick had to disagree. Nothing happened on that trip. It was mainly spent at Ben’s family’s lake house where you all spent every night getting drunk and every morning hungover. And sure maybe he learned a lot about you and his other friends during that trip as everyone had loose lips due to the alcohol— and okay maybe there was that one really drunken night you and Rodrick ended up getting stuck in the bathroom because the door got jammed but neither of you could remember that night anyway, it was mostly the morning when you both woke up cuddling in the bathtub that—

Rodrick’s face flushed with the memory. 

And that had never happened before, but now the thought of you cuddled up to him with nothing more than a few layers of clothing separating the two of you…— and now he was thinking about you naked again.

Frank looked to Susan at his reaction. It seemed he was getting somewhere.

”Rodrick?” He questioned, trying to get his son to look at him.

His eyes snapped to his father’s as his mouth gaped like a fish, he suddenly shot out of his chair.

”God— what’s with the third degree! We’re just friends” He exclaimed, shrilly, grabbing his dinner and fork, “I plead the fifth!” He was then running back upstairs to his room, leaving his family in stunned silence.

Susan nodded, sure of herself now, “Frank, I think it’s time you had the talk with him—“

”Uh, can I go?” Greg asked, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.

”No, finish your dinner.”

”But Rodrick left—“

”He’s going through a lot of emotions right now, you’ll understand when you’re his age,” she turned back to her husband.

”I’m pretty sure the school gives those talks now, honey,” Frank said uncomfortably.

”Yes, but it’s different when it’s coming from the parents. It might actually be best if we talked to her parents as well and sat the two of them down all together.”

Frank stared at his wife in utter shock… the ideas this woman comes up with…

* * * *

Rodrick ran upstairs, slamming his door shut before landing on his bed and shoveling the food on his plate into his mouth with a sneer as his parents words chirped endlessly in his head.

You and him have always been close, there was zero change in that after that trip. They were just delusional.

Just like there was zero change in your relationship after he saw you naked. Like yeah, maybe he did want to see you naked again but that wasn’t any indication that your relationship changed—

There was a tap at his window.

He dropped his plate on top of his bed, getting green beans and sauce all over his blankets, before practically stumbling over his own two feet to get the blinds up.

There you were, sitting on your roof with a handful of thumbs tacks that you used to throw at his window.

You jumped at his abruptness, hand already poised to throw another thumb tack.

He opened his window, “What?”

You ignored his odd behavior, he was always a weirdo anyways. 

“Bill invited us to go hang in his basement.”

”But I’m grounded.”

”So?” You scoffed.

”Right now? My family’s still up.”

”We can sneak out in like an hour then,” you rolled your eyes. “I’m going whether or not you’re coming.”

”Alright fine,” he hissed, “We can go in an hour.”

”Nice.”

After an hour of waiting and listening to his family get ready for bed from downstairs, Rodrick threw on a hoodie and slipped his sneakers on, and found himself climbing out of his window and onto the roof.

You hadn’t been far behind, not bothering to change out of your pajama shorts and Löded Diper t-shirt, instead adding your own sneakers and a zip up.

Rodrick climbed down the tree between your windows before you did, grabbing onto your waist and helping you down the rest of the way like he has many times before.

But his hands had never burned at the touch before.

”Okay, let’s go,” you said, grabbing onto his wrist and tugging him towards your car.

He stared at your hand wrapped around his wrist.

Have you two always touched this much?

His cheeks felt like they were on fire from all the blood rushing to his head.

Rushing into the car you slammed your doors shut and turned it on, before peeling out of the spot you were parked in in front of your house and down the street.

On the way to Bill’s you almost crashed twice, which was less than usual so you considered it a pretty decent drive.

Parking in front of Bill’s you went to the side door that led straight into the basement he lived in.

His parents must have been out because they always hated when he invited you guys over— something about Bill hanging out with high schoolers not being appropriate.

You skipped down the steps with Rodrick in tow.

”Hello losers!” You greeted, making the others say their own hello’s.

Ben lit up, “Hello, legs,” he said in awe, seeing your bare legs descend the steps before seeing the rest of you.

”Ew,” you rolled your eyes, jumping on Bill’s couch, kicking your feet up on the coffee table, reaching over for the open bag of chips by your feet.

Bill had been laying in his bed while Ben and Chris sat on the floor playing some card game.

Rodrick sat beside you, reaching a hand into the chip bag you offered him.

”So what are we doing?” Rodrick asked.

Bill shrugged, “Dunno. I was bored and my family’s out.”

”So you invited us to be bored with you?” You asked, raising a brow.

”Nooo,” he dragged out, “I invited you to entertain me.”

You rolled your eyes, standing back up and making your way to his mini fridge, “Got any beers?” You asked, pulling the door open. Your eyes lit up as they landed on his stash.

Turns out he only had beer. 

You took one out and cracked it open, you grabbed another and tossed it to Rodrick to which he fumbled with a couple times before catching it.

”You didn’t tell us you had beer,” Ben said excitedly, scrambling from his spot on the ground and grabbing the two beers for him and Chris you handed him.

”You saw me drinking for the last hour,” Bill furrowed his eyebrows.

”So how’s the grounding going?” Chris called over his shoulder, taking his drink from Ben as he sat back down.

You took a swig of your own, plopping back down besides Rodrick.

”Well I’m here right now so I’d say it’s going pretty great,” he muttered.

”Susan’s been micromanaging him all week,” you also answered, “So we probably only have about an hour before she goes to check on him.”

”That blows,” Bill said, “Hey,” he suddenly said, getting an idea, “Maybe you should try getting grounded less.”

”Yeah, I’ll work right on that.” 

The next fifteen minutes were filled with idle chit chat about the band and a couple parties that were coming up.

“Again?” Ben scoffed, throwing his cards down. “This is rigged,” He got up from his game.

”Or maybe you just suck,” Chris laughed, grinning as he won yet again, sprawling out on the floor as it seemed they were done for the night, but not before taking a drink of his beer.

Ben made his way over to you, squeezing himself in the tight space between you and the arm rest of the couch, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

You rolled your eyes, scooching over towards Rodrick a bit.

”Soooo,” Ben said, dragging the word out.

”Yesss,” you mimicked.

”I saw you talking to Heather Hills today, what was that about?”

”Oh that?” You scoffed, “I have to work with her on some stupid project. She was telling me I have to pull my own weight on it because she’s not risking a bad grade because ‘I don’t take shit seriously’ or whatever she said— but I don’t exactly see that Princess studying and working hard either so I don’t think she has any right talking to me like that. Glass stones, y’know.”

”Uh-huh,” Ben said, clearly ignoring your rant, “So you’ll be seeing and talking to her regularly?”

”I guess so, we’re working on it in class.”

”Any chance my name can come up in these talks?”

Oh right, that’s where this was going, cause every fucking male in this goddamn school had a hard on for the brat. 

“Slim to none,” you answered, “Besides, I promised Rodrick here,” you slapped his knee, making him jump at the touch to which you ignored, “That I’d wingman for him if the opportunity ever came up.”

”He doesn’t mind! Right Rodrick!” He leaned over you to look at his best friend. He didn’t respond, “Rodrick?” He followed Rodrick’s gaze right to your legs, “Hey! Are you staring at my girl!?”

You scoffed, pushing his head back, and moving away from him and towards Rodrick, “How are you already drunk? Knock it off with that ‘my girl’ crap.”

”He was staring at you! Why am I getting yelled at!?”

”I wasn’t staring!” Rodrick yelped, voice cracking a red blush covering his face.

You looked back and forth between the two boys before standing up, your mood souring, “I’m gonna go pee, both of you cool it with the testosterone or I’m leaving.” You grumbled, marching out of the basement and to the bathroom upstairs. The one in Bill’s room was disgusting.

“What’s up with you,” Ben asked, looking at Rodrick peculiarly, “Why the fuck are you so red?”

”God— it’s nothing,” he grunted, “It’s a sunburn.”

”Bullshit,” Chris called out, “You’re blushing!”

“Oh I see,” Bill said with a laugh, “He’s finally coming around to (Y/N). Don’t see her as one of the boys anymore, do ya?”

”Will all of you just shut up,” Rodrick snapped, “I don’t like her like that.”

”No one said anything about liking anybody.” 

“But now we’re all thinking you do,” Ben said, raising a brow before an idea popped in his head, shooting up from his seat and pointing an accusing finger at him, “Something happened between you two!” A wide grin stretched across his face.

Bill and Chris were sitting up now.

”I knew it!” Bill laughed, “You two follow each other around like dogs.”

”What happened?” Chris pressed.

Fuck, fuck, fuck— he knows he shouldn’t say anything—

“I saw her naked,” he blurted, his own mouth out of his control.

Well fuck—

Chris and Bill shot to their feet as well, with exclamations on all three of his friends lips.

“How!?”

”When!?”

”Did you have sex!?”

”She forgot to close her blinds a few nights ago.”

Why won’t he shut up.

He guessed it was only a matter of time he’d eventually explode with this information as it was getting harder and harder each day to put it behind him.

”Is she hot!?” Chris exclaimed.

All Rodrick could do was nod guiltily as he continued to divulge more and more information.

All of them cheered again, Ben and Chris practically tackling him as they clapped his back and ruffled his hair in praise.

”What was she doing? Getting changed?” 

“She came out of the shower and was dancing to whatever music she was listening to while looking for her pajamas.” Starting to grin slightly at the praise he was receiving.

Ben fell to his knees at that, “So you saw,” he swallowed, “Her,” he gestured to his chest area, “Jiggling?”

”Yeah,” he said breathlessly at the memory.

”Does she know?” Bill asked.

”We made direct eye contact.” 

”What’d she do?” Chris now asked.

”As soon as our eyes met we both kinda screamed and I ran out of my room. But we talked it over the next day and everything’s all good.”

”Everything was all good.”

All four guys snapped their sights towards the staircase where you stood with your arms crossed.

”Really Rodrick?” You scoffed, clearly hurt. “What the fuck?”

”(Y/N)!” He stood up now. “I— uh,” he struggled to find the words.

You looked to each of your ‘friends’. “You’re all fucking assholes. Especially you Rodrick, have fun walking home.” 

With that all four watched you climb the rest of the stairs before slamming the door shut behind you.

Rodrick groaned.

”Shit.”

————————————————————————

Part 3 Coming Soon…

Taglist: @maggiecc @corpsebridenightamare @simpingforthe80s @werewolf-witchboy @brunnetteiwik @athenalive @exploringalaxiesfarfaraway @momokosthings

[btsugarush]

GANGSTA | myg - 004

summary: rough sex, blood money, drugs, and gang related activity; four things you never predicted to experience in your simple life. not until you opened your mouth and caught his attention.

pairings: gang leader!yoongi x f!reader

warnings: smut, gunplay, drugs, drug addiction, dark!yoongi, drug lord!yoongi, strong language, gang violence, blood and gore, murder, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behavior, abuse, cheating, angst, fluff, dubcon, implied noncon (not from yoongi but within his gang with his knowledge), 18+, minors dni.

word count: 3.5K

authors note: yes, it is here. it only took me 76 years lmao. y’all best give me all the love since y’all wanted to be on my ass about this mf. anyway, enjoy the drama. also this was prewritren with the tags a long time ago so if you no longer wanted to be tagged or if you’re new and wanted to be tagged i’m sorry. the taglist got full but i try to switch out who i tag every chapter.

“Now, are you sure you’re okay? I can personally file a report for you.” Mr. Kim asked for the 6th time. You roll your eyes, fed up with the badgering. You didn’t understand why he cared so much anyway. He was the one that refused to listen to you when you tried to explain why it wouldn’t be a great idea for you to deliver in Gongdan.

You didn’t go into detail about the assault, or even bother to mention Yoongi being the reason it didn’t escalate. You simply just stated to him that you were attacked and managed to slip free.

Luckily for you though, the old man’s guilt for the attack led him to giving you the rest of the day off and you snatched that offer up immediately. Not like he needed your assistance, seeing as the restaurant was practically dead with only about 4 customers. “I’m fine, Mr. Kim. I promise.” You assure him one last time. “Alright then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.” You exit the shop, the door dinging as you do. You spot Mina’s car sitting in front of the restaurant, and she smiles cheerfully as you climb inside. “Hey. Thanks for picking me up so early.” You sigh, buckling your seatbelt. “No problem… But why am I picking you up so early? And…” she leans forward, peaking at your ripped shirt. “Why is your shirt ripped?”

You scratch your head, the thought of explaining the situation to Mina made your brain itch. “I had to deliver at the Devil’s playground again, and got attacked.” You kept it short and sweet. Mina’s eyes widened in shock. “What?! Was it that Yoongi guy again?!”

You shake your head. “It wasn’t him, it was this group of guys. Yoongi was actually the one that saved me…” you twiddle with your fingers as your mind wanders about the raven. Mina arches a brow at the gentleness in your voice. “He saved you?” You nod slowly in response. “My god, what does he expect from you now? Sexual favors?”

Of course Mina has to be the most dramatic and think the worst possible thought of everything. “No, he didn’t ask me for any favors. Which I guess is surprising for someone with his track record.” You admit, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. Mina starts up the car, finally moving from the restaurant premises. “Please don’t tell me you’re buddy buddy with that thug now?”

You scoff, letting your eyes roll back. “Of course not! The guy is a criminal, and stalker. I’d never befriend him,” You argue, crossing your arms. Yoongi may have saved you, but you weren’t swayed by his heroic charm. “Anyway, enough about me and my shitty day, it’s too traumatic to talk about. Did you have a talk with Jin like I suggested?” You change the subject. Mina’s face drops at the mention of her boyfriend’s name. “Yeah, we talked for about 2 minutes before it all blew up. Now we’re not on speaking terms,” She sighs. “I think maybe I should break up with him…”

You frown. ‘There she goes being the most dramatic again…’

“Mina, don’t be so damn hasty all the time.” You try to reason with the blonde. “I’m not!” She defended herself. “I’m just tired, y/n. I’m tired of trying to figure him out. I’d rather break up with him before he breaks up with me.”

Mina had never been the girl to get her heart broken. In high school she was the one always doing the heart breaking, so you could tell that it genuinely killed her to love someone as much as she loved Jin, and not know where his head was at regarding their relationship. “I don’t know, Mina… I just know if I was in your shoes with Kookie, I’d try to work things out before I think of the worst possible outcome.”

Mina pouts, but she doesn’t continue to speak. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, you were right. She shouldn’t just jump the gun and break up with Jin. Although he was acting strangely and it was confusing the hell out of her. “You know… I’m jealous of your relationship with Kookie.” She suddenly blurts, causing you to turn to her with a raised brow. “Huh?”

“I’m jealous,” she repeats. “Of you and Jungkook.”

You tilt your head to the side, your eyebrows now scrunched in curiosity. “Why?”

Mina simply shrugs, sitting quietly for a couple of minutes before answering. “You two match, and have an unbeatable connection. You started off as best friends, which played in your favor. I met Jin in the hospital because he had a broken arm. We don’t have the history you and Jungkook have.”

You smile at the compliment towards your relationship, but quickly shake your head. “History isn’t everything. Some people marry their high school sweethearts and breakup. You and Seokjin just need to be mature– or you at least.” Mina whips her head in your direction, her brows furrowed. “What do you mean by ‘or you at least’?”

“I mean that sometimes you’re immature. You tend to freak out when things don’t go your way and storm off like a child.” Mina snarls. “I’m not immature.” She muttered to herself, practically proving your point. The car finally slows down in front of your apartment before coming to a complete stop. “Thanks for the ride again, Mina. I appreciate you.”

“Of course. I’m mature enough to pick up my best friend when she needs me.” She glares, your previous comment still not sitting well with her. You shake your head, paying no mind to her attitude. “Bye, Mina. I hope everything works out with Jin.” You pushed open the car door, climbing out.

“Yeah, you and me both.” She mutters her last words before she waits for you to close the car door, speeding off into the distance with you standing there to watch. You let out a sigh, shrugging. What was the point of her asking for your advice if she was always going to dislike what you had to say?

You turn on your heels, walking up the steps that lead to your building entrance. As you venture down the hall to your apartment, you spot a shaggy haired man placing a bouquet of flowers right in front of your front door. A smile forms your face as you see the one person you longed to see after such a horrendous experience. “Kookie?”

The brunette jumps slightly, your sudden appearance catching him off guard. Once he registers that it’s you, he smiles as well. “Well shit, I wanted to surprise you with something sweet when you got off. Guess that’s a fail.” He scratches the back of his neck, chuckling. You shake your head, instantly embracing him with a hug. “It’s not a fail. I’m so happy to see you.” Even though you pretty much talked on the phone with Jungkook everyday, it felt like you hadn’t seen him in weeks.

Jungkook’s tattooed arms wrap around your waist, returning your gentle embrace. “I’m happy to see you too, angel. What’re you doing home so early though? I thought you weren’t off till 8:00?”

You bit down on your bottom lip. You wanted to start crying right there just thinking about what almost happened to you today. You hadn’t told him about your trip to Gongdan yesterday because you didn’t want him to worry, but now you felt as though he deserved to know this time. “I got attacked today.” You take a step back, showing him your torn shirt. Jungkook looks down, dumbfounded at how he hadn’t clocked your ripped shirt when you first walked in.

“By who?!” He shouts. “If it was Yoongi and his gang I swear to god–”

You shush Jungkook, looking around to make sure none of your neighbors were in the hallway eavesdropping. “Let’s talk about this inside, okay?” The brunette is pissed, but he nods, awaiting for you to open your apartment door. He grabs the flowers from the floor as you dig through your purse for your key. ‘I really need to get a keychain for this thing," you thought, finally finding the piece of metal in your bag.

You open the door, and Jungkook wastes no time storming in. He places the flowers on your kitchen table, pulling out a chair for you to sit and explain yourself. Even though he was angry he still focused on your wellbeing. You close the door, unsure if you really wanted to recite the situation. Too late to change your mind now though.

You shuffle to the seat that Jungkook pulled out for you, plopping down. “So? Was it Yoongi’s doing?”

How do you even begin to explain all of this? Yes, but not really? While Yoongi was the reason you ended up in Gongdan, he isn’t the one that attacked you. But he has taken a weird interest in you ever since the Makoto showdown between you and his trusty stooge. If you told Jungkook that though, he'd just spend every moment trying to protect you and probably do something unnecessary to get himself hurt. You didn’t want that.

So, maybe it was best to embellish the truth a bit and leave Yoongi out of it.

“I had a delivery in Gongdan today. Jimin was out sick, and I was the only one that could deliver it. A group of guys attacked me on my way back to the restaurant.” Jungkook furrowed his eyebrows. “You had a delivery at the devil’s playground and you took it? What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that I had to do my job. I had no choice, Kookie. Mr. Kim wasn’t letting me out of it. Believe me, I tried.” The brunette scoffed, redirecting his anger to Mr. Kim. “I should go down there and kick that old man’s ass,” He muttered. Jungkook was never too fond of Mr. Kim. He thought the old man could be a bit misogynistic.

“Did they hurt you?” His voice is now more tender. You shook your head. “No. I’m fine,” You assure him. “The only thing that got hurt is my precious shirt.” You laugh a bit, trying to lighten the mood. “Did they just let you go? How’d you get free?” He pressed on.

“Umm…” you trail off, your thoughts once again wandering to the raven haired man.

“So Wonder Woman, you ready to accept that ride today?”

“They got scared off by someone that happened to be walking by. Lucky me, huh?”

Jungkook sighs smoothly, crouching down in front of your chair. He takes your hands in his, interlocking your fingers. “I’m glad you’re okay, y/n. I hate to know you experienced that and I wasn’t there.” He frowns, leering down at your hands. “Jungkook, you’re not gonna be able to be there for everything, and that’s okay. You’re here now, when I need you the most.”

Jungkook looks up at you. “And I’ll stay here.”

“Please remind me to stop letting you pick out movies. You always pick the cheesiest ones.” Jungkook grimaced as you two reached the end of your movie. You wiped stray tears from your eyes, glaring over at your soon-to-be boyfriend. “The Princess Diaries is a classic. I love it.” Jungkook snorts, shaking his head. “Yeah, well next time I’m picking the movie. Your selection sucks.”

You gasp, taking a pillow from the other end of the couch. “Take that back.” You cock the pillow, ready to deliver a blow. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry… that you’re ass at picking movies.” You swing the pillow down on him, and his hands go up in self defense as he laughs, his back landing on the couch cushions to better protect his face. You take this advantage to straddle the brunette’s waist, continuing your attack until he ultimately surrenders. “Okay, I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You finally toss the pillow back down to the end of the couch, a victory smirk plastered on your face. “I knew you’d see it my way.”

“Hard not to when I’m being attacked by a pillow.” He looks up at you, still straddling his waist. Jungkook’s hands slowly roam up your legs, stopping to grip your hips. “You’re so beautiful, you know that?” Your cheeks heated up with the compliment, and you felt a sudden wave of warmth between your legs that made you anxious. This was it. There was no better time than this to lose your virginity to Jungkook.

You lean forward, pressing your lips to his pierced ones, the metal was cold against you; Jungkook didn’t hold back, or hesitate the moment your lips were against his. Your mouths moved in sync, but sloppily at the same time as though you both wanted it real bad– and you did. Jungkook’s hands moved from your hips, reaching back to cup your ass in his hands, giving your cheeks a squeeze.

You moaned softly into his mouth, rolling your hips over the rough fabric of his jeans until you felt his cock harden underneath you. Jungkook made sure to assist you, his hands pressing you down harder against his confined length. Your panties were soaked, and your mind was in a daze. You were sure that you had dampened his jeans by now. “Fuck, Y/n…” he muttered in between kisses. “We have to stop before I can’t stop.”

“Then don’t stop, I want this.” You whine, rolling your hips faster. Jungkook moans, eyes squeezing shut. “Fuck, I can’t.” He grabs your hips, forcing you to stop. You take the hint, but you can’t help the pang in your chest. Was there something wrong with you? You didn’t get it. What was he waiting for? You climb off of him, taking your place back on the couch.

It’s silent as Jungkook sits up on the couch, running his fingers through his hair. “Y/n…”

“Save it,” You cut him short. “You don’t want to have sex with me, I get it.” Jungkook shakes his head. “That’s not true. I do.” He argued. You scoff, rolling your eyes. “So then what’s the problem? I’m always practically giving signals that I’m ready and you’re holding back. You have never done that with any girl you’ve dated before me.”

“You’re not any girl I’ve dated before you.”

“Right, I’m y/n, the girl that’s been your best friend for years and the truth is that’s probably all you see me as.” Jungkook says nothing, he doesn’t even bother to argue because that’s just something he hates doing with you. “I uh… I should go.”

“Then go.” You snapped. Jungkook nods, standing up from the couch. As he walks to the front door, he looks back at you. You don’t look his way, you just continue to stare forward. “You’re not any girl I’ve dated before you.” He repeats; those are his final words before he opens the door and leaves.

Your eyes brim with tears as you finally turn, looking towards the table where Jungkook’s bouquet of flowers sat.

“Well well well, look who made a full recovery today.” You eye Jimin taking orders as you walk into Makoto. Jimin smiles at you, happy to see you in what felt like forever since you two worked together. “Y/n, it’s good to see you too.” He greets. You cross your arms, not in a greeting mood. “I have a bone to pick with you once you’re done here.” You say, walking back to the kitchen to clock in.

“Y/n, good afternoon. How are you feeling today?” Mr. Kim asks you as you grab an apron from the hook, tying the black fabric around your waist. “It’s a Monday, how am I supposed to be feeling?” You speak dreadfully. You barely got any sleep after what happened last night with Jungkook, and now you were at work. Jungkook hadn’t even called or texted you. Not that you wanted him to right now.

“Well, I meant everything that happened yesterday, how are you feeling today?” He reiterates. You grab a time card, swiping it through the clock. “I’m fine, Mr. Kim.” You walk past him, taking a notepad and pen from the cup holder. Jimin walks back into the kitchen, his face suddenly pale like he was ready to puke. Maybe he was sick.

“Hey, um, there’s someone out there at table three that’s requesting for you to take their order.” He says, scratching the back of his neck. You raise a skeptical brow. ‘Requesting me? Could it be Jungkook?’ You thought. Maybe he wanted to talk in person instead of over the phone. You didn’t see why he couldn’t have waited until your shift was over and come to your apartment, but you didn’t argue with the gesture.

“Okay…?” You walk out of the kitchen towards the dining area. As you scope out table three, you don’t see Jungkook, but in fact, Yoongi, Joon, and two other guys you don’t know. That’s why Jimin looked so sickly. You shake your head, sauntering over to their table. “What’re you doing here? Was yesterday not enough?” You snap at Yoongi.

“Nice to see you too,” the raven laughs, leaning back in his chair. “Yesterday is the reason I’m here in person, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want you getting your pretty self into any more trouble in my hood.” He smirked. “You remember my boy Joon, don’t you?”

“Wonder Woman, it’s good to see you again.” You glare at Joon, rolling your eyes. You didn’t have time for this. Yoongi was the last person you cared to see right now, and you definitely never wanted to see Nam-joon again. “So are you here to order something or are you here to be the bane of my existence?”

“Depends… are you on the menu?” He bites his bottom lip, looking you up and down. Joon, and Yoongi’s other two minions snicker and you’ve decided you’ve had enough of this pig fest. “Okay, goodbye.” You turn to head back to the kitchen, but Yoongi stops you by grabbing your wrist. “I’m just joking around, sweetheart. I’m here to ask you something.” You pull your wrist from his grip, turning back to face him. “Ask me what?”

“Well, I’m having this kickback at my place tonight. I want you to slide through.” You scrunch your eyebrows together in confusion. “What on earth would make you think I’d dare to step foot into Gongdan again? And what makes you think I’d go to your shifty ass warehouse?”

“Well, I just thought after my heroism the other day you would want to thank me more properly.” You scoffed. Mina was right. He was expecting some kind of sexual favor from you. “I knew it. You only helped because you thought you could use me later on. I should’ve expected that from someone like you.” You leave their table, making your way back towards the kitchen, but this time Yoongi stands up from his seat to follow you.

“Princess,” He stops you again, his hand grazing your waist, but he doesn’t fully touch you in a manner that came across as though he was trying to respect your boundaries–for once. He steps in front of you, blocking your way to the kitchen. “It’s not like that. I helped you because I wanted to.”

“Is that so? Because it truly didn’t seem like it just a second ago.” You snarled, crossing your arms. The raven makes a “tsk” sound before continuing on. “Sweetheart, if that’s all I wanted from you then I would’ve made you give it to me right there in the alleyway. Regardless of what happened,” His face was stone cold serious. He meant that. You stood silent, not knowing what to say next.

“Listen… sometimes I have these kickbacks, and they’re a vibe, but it would be better if I saw your pretty face there.” His voice is soft, so soft that you didn’t think someone like Yoongi could produce such a tone. “I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to take a bus through Gongdan at night.”

“So don’t. I’ll pick you up.”

You sigh, slowly feeling yourself ready to cave in and you didn’t know why. You literally could not stand this man. He was a stalker for fuck sakes. A criminal. And yet… here you were ready to accept his invitation because of one good gesture, and a sudden softness to his voice. Yoongi’s eyes search for yours until they lock, a smile forming his face. For a moment as you're looking into the raven’s eyes you begin to question is he really the monster he makes people believe? Or is that all for looks?

“Hey, can we get the check please?” A customer calls out. Your eyes snap away from Yoongi’s. You had almost forgotten you were at work. “Look, I have to get back to work. I’ll… I’ll let you know.” You take your notepad, writing down your phone number. As you rip the paper from the pad, you actually begin to question your sanity. You hand the paper to Yoongi, his lips tilting in a sly smirk as he takes it.

“I look forward to hearing from you, princess.”

Taglist

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[mostly-marvel-musings]

Old tricks - P2

A/N: Remember this teeeny tiny fic that got so much love? Well, here’s a spontaneous sequel! Enjoy, my lovelies!

Pairing: Tony Stark x F! Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut-ish, fluff, humour.

Find Part 1 here 🌼

.

Sashaying your hips for effect, you looked over your shoulder to see your husband hot on your trail.

“Y/N, please…” his voice held a desperation, one that made you believe you’d won, yet again. Not that he’d admit it ever, but Tony was grateful for these distractions. Though his body screamed for rest, it was that genius mind that raced a mile a minute.

“Ah begging already? I thought I’d have to tease you a bit before we got there..” you smirked, catching your discarded robe which Tony playfully threw back at you.

“Minx..”

“Hey whatever it takes to bring you to bed! Plus it worked, so I’m winning here.”

Shrugging it back on, you made your way up the stairs towards your bedroom, threading your fingers through his and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Pretty sure I’m the one who won here, sweetheart.” Tony smacked your robe covered butt before pulling you back against his chest, making you squeal as he picked you up effortlessly.

Kicking the bedroom door close with his foot, he gently laid you down, quick to settle between your legs as his eyes gazed down at you with nothing but love.

“What?” You asked, letting your fingers mindlessly twiddle with his hair.

“I just love you, so much. I hope you know that, Mrs. Stark.”

His earnestly took you aback, a smile appearing on your face before he leaned down to catch your lips in a searing kiss. Squeezing your sides, he poured every bit of adoration in the kiss, tracing your bottom lip with his tongue before you offered permission for it to slide in.

Heat began pooling between your legs as the kiss took a passionate turn; nudging his shoulder, you rolled on top of him, never breaking contact. Tony’s hands gripped your hips as you gave them a grind, feeling his cock twitch beneath you.

“So, about those old tricks..” he gave you his winning grin, attempting you catch your lips with his again but you didn’t let him.

“Oh right, I’m all prepared for it. You better sit back and watch.”

“Wait—what?”

His frown was rather cute as you reached over to grab a toy he’d made for you long back, brandishing it in your hands with a wicked smile of your own.

“What? You need to catch up on some sleep, dear husband. Also, you’ve left me all to myself too much for me to just let you have your way.”

He simply blinked in disbelief, opening and closing his mouth without actually saying anything. You giggled as you rolled your hips ever so seductively, making Tony grunt before he flipped you again and pinned you under him.

“You just love being a fucking tease, don’t you?” He growled, attacking your neck with kisses that made your resolve wither away with every passing second.

“You love it too.” You voiced quietly, letting a moan escape as his mouth hit the spot between your shoulder and neck.

“Yeah I do. I really, really do. But for now, let me make you a deal.” He murmured against your skin, discarding your robe once again before peeling off his sweater and adding it to the pile.

“What kind of a deal?”

“Every orgasm I draw out of you tonight equals an hour of sleep for me. What do you say?”

It was one hell of a deal. Given how sleep deprived he was, you wouldn’t settle for anything less than eight, he knew that.

“Looks like you’ve got quite the task ahead of you, Mister Stark. Better get to work.” You teased, feeling his fingers inch their way towards your entrance to find your clit. Gasping softly, you moved your hips to gain more friction.

“I haven’t specified how and when of that deal, dear missus. You’re not the only one with good old tricks up their sleeve. We’ve got all night…” he smirked, watching your lips part as his thumb brushed against your bundle of nerves teasingly.

“Oh fuck you, Stark.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

It was clear you had a long night ahead of you. But one thing was for sure, Tony Stark simply wasn’t built to resist you. And neither were you.

Well, Part 3 is up too 💁🏻‍♀️

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Bossy Play (CEO!Bucky Barnes)

Summary: You meet your new boss.

Warnings: misogyny

WC: 459

A/N: the original post of this had almost 500 notes. i deleted it on a whim some years back and i've regretted it ever since because I knew it would have been a mistake. SO hopefully this becomes a sucess again <3 please reblog if you enjoyed <3 I'm definitely thinking of continuing this but only if people reblog/comment.

Read on Ao3!

--

“So, who do you think is replacing Pepper?” You asked, twiddling with your pen as you turned around in your chair to look at Misty Knight.

She scoffed as she drunk from her cup of coffee. “I heard that the person they’re replacing her with is a military Sargent; strict and all.”

“Man or woman?” 

She shrugged. “Nat, what did you hear?” 

Nat’s bright red hair popped up from her cubicle as she leaned over to lean against the wall that separated her from Misty. “I heard they’ve already got a list of people to fire. Pepper said he had a terrible temper and wasn’t someone to joke around with.”

“But-” the girls around you became quiet as the unmistakable sound of the elevators opening up down the hall had come to your ears. A few heartbeats and around the corner a handsome man strolled through, a satchel slung on his shoulders, cup of coffee in his left hand.

“Why’s he only wearing one glove?” Misty asked as the man silently strolled down the hallway to Pepper Potts’ previous office. “It’s not even cold enough for that outside.”

“Maybe he’s got a disease.” Nat smirked. However, when the man returned, she quickly sat in her cubicle.

“My name is James Barnes,” he announced, placing his hands behind his back .”I know I’m new here. But I plan on getting to know each and every one of you personally in the coming weeks. You-” he pointed to Nat and beckoned her over to him.

She quickly stood up and walked over to him. “What’s your name?”

“Natalia Romanov” 

He smiled. “Fetch me a fresh Caesar salad from the lobby downstairs, will you?”

She opened her mouth a few times without speaking.

“Cat got your tongue?” He cocked his head to the left. “Hard of hearing?”

“No, Mr. Barnes.” She bowed her head before walking to the elevator.

He called each of your coworkers one by one and tasked them with silly tasks. When he called you name, you were annoyed at being distracted by his constant talking. “Follow me.” Confused, you followed him as he led you to his office and closed his door. “Sit.” you obliged. “I’m going to assume you’re Y/N Y/L/N, am I correct?”

“How do you…?” you became quiet as he grabbed his clipboard from his desk and flipped it around to show you. The chart displayed every one of your cubicles and the names of your coworkers.  “If you knew our names already, then why introduce us like we’re in school?”

“I enjoy a good prank or two every so often.” He smirked. “I want you as my assistant Do you agree?”

Blinking at the sudden playful tone he bore, you nodded. 

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Precious Truths: Part 3

Fandom: Bridgerton

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!Reader

Summary: After your father finds out you've been writing under a male pseudonym, he threatens to marry you off to an atrocious man unless you find yourself a husband within a month's time.

Series Masterlist

Once at their door, you're insistently knocking on their door until someone opens it. Mrs. Wilson looks at you with confusion. Your chest is heaving, your eyes are wide, your hair in disarray, "Miss Y/N? Are you alright?"

"I need to see the Viscount and Viscountess immediately," you say urgently as you enter the Bridgerton home, gripping the older woman's arms to stabilize you.

"They're still freshening up for di-"

"Please! I need to see them! It's urgent!"

"Alright," the older woman nods at you, removing your hands from her, and rushes up the stairs to retrieve Anthony and Kate.

You're pacing in the foyer, fingers twiddling together as you're trying your best not to break down right then and there. You begin to mentally scold yourself for being so careless. You had done so well in the beginning, hiding your writings under your floorboards. You became careless. Your aunt was never one to snoop and your father was always in a drunken state. You figured neither of them would begin to look around your room, so you left your writings there.

Oh how wrong you were.

You look up to hear footsteps and see that Kate is the first one rushing down the stairs, "Y/N? What's wrong? Are you alright?"

You grab her arms to keep you steady as you shake your head, "My father found out and he's going to marry me off to my awful cousin. I need to find a husband quickly!"

"Found out? Found out what?" she asks you in confusion.

You don't answer her question as you continue on with your hysteric ramble, "Please, Kate, do you or Anthony know anyone who's looking for a wife?"

"Y/N, slow down. Wha-"

"What is wrong, Y/N?" Anthony asks as he finally approaches you in concern.

You look at him with wide eyes, "You need to help me find a husband."

You jolts in surprise, "What?"

"Darling, is everything alright?" Violet looks at the three of you with worry. She notes your distress, "I'll have Mrs. Wilson get ready some tea," she immediately goes to find her housekeeper.

Kate takes hold of your hand and guides you to the sitting room where you immediately plop yourself into the couch, throwing your head into your hands.

The Viscountess sits beside and puts a reassuring hand on your back, rubbing it soothingly. She looks up at her husband and mouths, 'Get Benedict.'

The Viscount immediately scurries off to find his brother.

"Deep breaths, Y/N. When you are ready, you must start from the beginning."

You sit up and wipe your now teary eyes. You take a deep breath and ready to speak, but your words get caught in your throat when Benedict enters the room.

Kate stands from your side and Benedict immediately takes her place, "Are you alright? Anthony said you were in distress."

You let out a shaky breath and give him a sad smile, "It's all gone wrong, Ben."

"What happened?"

You gulp and look up at Anthony and Kate who watch you with patient eyes, "What I'm about to tell you must not leave this room. It's imperative that no one, especially Whistledown, doesn't know."

"Know what?" Benedict asks.

You take another deep breath, "I'm Arthur Talbot."

Anthony looks at you in surprise. Kate looks at you like she's realized something. Benedict...you're not sure what the expression he's giving, but at least he doesn't look angry.

Kate can't help but chuckle, "It makes so much sense now. When you'd recite his words, it felt like they were your own. They were."

You nod and turn to Benedict, "You know how my papa forbade me from reading and writing poetry. I couldn't let it go, not when it was the one thing I had left of my mama. So I decided to write under a man's name, so my papa wouldn't know.

"But when I arrived home after our promenade, he was in my room. He found everything. He was so angry. He-" you look away in shame, "He struck me-"

"He struck you?" he asked you in disbelief. He feels a burning anger start to bubble within him. He never understood how one can be such a kind man and loving father, to a cold hearted man like your papa.

You sadly nod, "He said if I didn't find a husband within a month's time, he'll marry me off to my cousin Albert."

Benedict immediately winces, "He's atrocious," recalling back to the one summer that part of your family visited and your cousin was exuberant in trying to prove that he was much better at everything than Anthony. To put it plainly, the man was a twat.

"I know! So need your help," you place your gloved hands over Benedict's, and look to Kate and Anthony, "I need you three to help me find a husband. One with good social standing and is, at the very least, a decent man."

Kate and Anthony glance at each other and then Benedict, waiting for him to confess his feelings and propose to you, to save you from your horrid cousin.

Benedict watches his brother and sister-in-law, but then looks away. With a gulp, he says with a small, reassuring smile, "I'm sure my brother will be able to look into the available men of the ton and find you a good match."

Kate casts her head down in disappointment as Anthony steps forward, "You're practically family. I will do my best to help you."

"And you'll help too, right, Ben?" You look at him with hopeful eyes and Ben could feel him on the verge of breaking, so close to finally letting you know how he feels, that he doesn't want to help because no man deserves to see you the way he sees you.

He gives you a soft smile, "Yes. Of course, I'll help you."

__________________________

You've calmed down since abruptly showing up on the Bridgertons' door step. Kate and Anthony sit with you in the sitting room while Anthony starts gathering a list of eligible men for you. You're sitting tea staring blankly at the floor when your aunt is rushing into the room.

"Oh thank Heavens, you're alright!"

You place the tea cup down and stand, meeting your aunt, "I apologize for my abrupt leave, Aunt Eliza. I was...distraught."

"Yes, well, your father told me of your-" she eyes Kate and Benedict, "-situation."

You gesture to them, "They know. I told them, but they promise to not speak of my situation to anyone else."

"And does the Viscount know?"

You nod, "He does. Anthony, Kate, and Benedict are going to help me find a husband, so I don't have to marry Cousin Albert."

Aunt Eliza grimaces, "Absolutely not. The words to describe him are...they're not appropriate to express aloud." Benedict snorts in agreement.

"Lady L/N, I can assure you that the Viscount and I will do our very best to find a man deserving of L/N."

Your aunt nods to her, "Thank you, my lady," she sighs and gestures for you, "Come, Y/N. Your father is now asleep. You may come home, but tomorrow we will go to the modiste and request some new dresses."

"Yes, Aunt Eliza," you turn and hug Kate and give Benedict a nod, "Thank you for your help."

Benedict reaches out and grabs your wrist, "Let me know if you need anything or even just someone to talk to."

"Of course," you curtsey, "Good night."

You follow your aunt out of the Bridgerton estate and back to your home.

Kate pinches the bridge of her nose, "Why didn't you propose to her?"

"Why would I? She deserves someone of a better social standing."

"You are a Bridgerton."

"I am a second son and an artist. Not even a good since Anthony bought my way into the academy." Benedict leans back in the couch in despondence, "She deserves someone better."

"But you love her, do you not?"

"It is why I love her that I am helping her, because I cannot give her what she deserves." the second Bridgerton stands from his spot and excuses himself from the room, presumably to drink his heartache away.

[latenightdaydreams]

Family Planning (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List✍🏽

Part 2

>cw: fem/afab, pregnancy, cucking, p in v, religion, priest König

2.1k word count

⛪

.

.

You’ve been married to your husband, Lucas, for four years now. Both of you are high school sweethearts. You never thought you’d have to seek counseling for the relationship. You nervously twiddle your thumbs as you sit outside your priest’s office, sitting next to your husband. Finally, the door opens and König’s eyes land on the two of you.

“Please, come in.” He stands at the door, waiting for you both to enter before he closes the door behind him. Once he sits down, he leans forward with a polite smile across his thin lips. “Mr. and Mrs. Altman. What brings you to me?”

There is a heavy tension in the room as you gaze over to Lucas. He sits with a finger pressing against his temple as he rests his arm on the armrest. It’s clear that he doesn’t want to be here, he doesn’t want to talk about this.

“Well, it’s…we’ve been having some issues lately.” You speak carefully, trying to not offend your husband. 

“What issues?” König gives a concerned look to your husband.

“Well, we’ve been trying to get pregnant for the last four years and nothing. I went to the doctor, and everything was fine with me…” You stop talking and drop your head down, knowing the topic upsets your husband.

“So, that means it’s you that can’t get her pregnant?” His eyes lock with your husbands.

“Yes…”

“And that makes you feel…” König was trying to get him to admit his feelings.

“Worthless.” Lucas says in a low voice. “As if I’m not a man.” You rest your hand on your husband's legs and rub it in a supporting way. 

“We’ve always wanted a family. Since we met as teens, we’ve planned on having kids. The issue is not only his sperm, but to have a child, it would be through unnatural means.”

König watches the shape of your mouth as you speak. He nods his head occasionally to make sure you know he is listening to you.           Once you finish explaining your moral stance against IVF, he finally speaks.

“It seems almost cruel that God would give such a strong, devoted couple as yourselves such a heavy cross to bear.” His blue eyes gaze into yours as he speaks. “I also agree, IVF is unnatural and goes against God's word. The Lord sees how you’ve both struggled, yet never even up on one another.”

Tears creep up in your eyes as Father validates every feeling you’ve had along your way so far. Instead of judgment, he is listening with care. 

“But have you considered… other options?”

“Like adoption?” Lucas asks.

“Hm, no. Just a simple sperm donation.” König leans back in his desk chair, his fingertips touching as he studies both of your reactions.

“But having seed spilled by a contraption…it isn’t of God.” Lucas speaks softly. He knows you’d have the beautiful family you have always dreamed of if it weren’t for him. Guilt floods his body.

“Not with any medical intervention.”

“Then…how?”

“I can offer you my seed, to impregnate you.” König says boldly.

“Excuse me?” There is a bit of anger in Lucas’s tone.

“Please do not misunderstand me. I am a man of God. I’ve given up all pleasures in life. I’m simply the vessel put here by the Lord to give you the family you both desire. Like God impregnated Mary, but Joseph raised Jesus as his own.”

You sit staring at Father König with your mouth slightly ajar. Like God did with Mary and Joseph… Those words you kept repeating in your head, and the more it started to make sense.

“But that’s adultery.” Lucas snapped.

“God let men impregnate another woman in the bible when their woman was barren. I don’t see the difference here. No romance, just God’s gift.” He smiles at the both of you, impressed with how gullible you both seem to be. 

“He has a point, honey.” Your hand continues to caress Lucas’s leg.

He looks into your eyes for a while, a heavy gaze of guilt on his own. Is he really about to allow his Priest to sleep with his wife? That would be crazy, right? It would result in a pregnancy, and you’ll be able to start the family you’ve always wanted. Both he and Father König are blonde blue eyed me, so it wouldn’t be too hard to hide.

“I- can we think about this?” You can hear the buildup of emotions in his voice.

“Of course, take all the time you need.” König suppresses a small smirk. 

Everyone stands and you go home with Lucas. The night you both stay all talking, arguing, crying, laughing; just every emotion hitting at once. This is a conversation you never saw yourselves having. All you’ve ever wanted is to be a mother, and now God has given you an answer.

.

.

You arrive outside of Father König’s home, fingers intertwined with Lucas’s. He hesitates before his knocks on the door finally. A few seconds later, König opens it, greeting you both with a warm smile. He is wearing his black pants and shirt with a Priest collar on.

“Bitte kommen Sie herein.” König steps aside to let you and Lucas come inside. 

The home is simple with crosses and imagery of Jesus and the Virgin Mary hanging on the walls. You both linger awkwardly, thumbs caressing one another’s hand. König closes and locks the door.

“Shall we.” He gestures for the both of you to follow him down a long hall. 

Turning into the last door on the left, he welcomes you in. There is a large king size bed with gray sheets and a blue comforter. A simple wooden cross with a bloody Jesus on the wall behind the bed. Your eyes linger on it for a while before turning your gaze towards Lucas. He is looking at the bed with a dejected look in his eyes. A heavy tension lingers in the air. 

“Y/n, you should undress.” König’s Austrian accent is smooth.

You nod and kick your shoes off before pulling off your sweater. Lucas took it for you, his eyes looking over your body as you slowly peeled away each layer. Both trying to avoid Father's gaze and only focus on each other. Once stripped of all your clothing, Lucas slips his hand back into yours. “You’ll be okay…” He whispers to you, pressing his lips to your forehead.

König takes your hand from your husbands, his icy blue eyes gazing down into yours. He walks to the bed, lifting you and gently laying you in the center of the bed. 

“Lucas, sit at the head of the bed. It’s important that you’re a part of this too.”

Lucas slowly kicks his shoes off and walks to the bed, pulling the pillows aside and sitting. His hands caress your hair, trying to ignore Father touching you. Ignoring how his hands ran up your legs, caressing the supple flesh of your thighs.

You tried hard to ignore Father's touch, but your body was responding positively. He climbs on top of you, his weight sinking you into the bed. Timid warm kisses trailing up your abdomen to your breasts. 

“Is all of this…necessary?” Lucas's voice cracks.

“Ja,” he continues to kiss over your breasts, lightly sucking on your perky nipples. “Her body needs to be relaxed to accept my seed.”

Lucas huffs, rolling his eyes. König ignores him, moving his lips to kiss up your neck, slowly making his way to your lips. He lightly bit your bottom lip before pressing his lips fully against yours. His knee sliding between your legs, rubbing it against your clit. You whimper slightly as his tongue circles yours.

“You like that, Liebling?” He licks your lips before kissing you passionately. 

Lucas stares at a wall as this is going on. He can feel his cock become slightly erect, but he tries to ignore it. He doesn’t want to get aroused watching a man take his wife. He’s her one and only- at least that’s how it was always supposed to be.

“Let’s see how wet you are for Father…” König says as he leans back. On his black pant leg there is a white wet streak. He smirks and looks at you. “Perfekt.”

Your eyes gaze up at Lucas, a bit of shame in your gaze for becoming so aroused. König grabs your hips and scoots you closer to him. Your legs spread open in front of him as he undoes his pants. He pulls his enormous cock out, his hand grasping it at the base.

Lucas' eyes go wide, looking at König’s penis. A wave of jealousy, insecurity, and shame rushes over him. How would you feel about him after you’ve been with Father? Can he compare? Will he ever be able to please you again? He is quickly snapped out of his thoughts as Father speaks.

“Are you ready, y/n?”

“Yes.” You said quickly, almost too quickly for Lucas’s liking.

“Look at me, Liebling.” König grabs your jaw and makes you look at him. His eyes watching you closely as he slips his cock into you. He watches the way your breathing shutters and your eyebrows pinch together. 

His hand moves from your jaw to your hips, grabbing your legs and spreading them wide apart. With each roll of his hips, you let out a pathetic little mewl. You’re trying your hardest to not give into the pleasure, you’re here to procreate, not have sex.

Lucas notices the way your face contorts with euphoria as König’s big cock fucks you. His cock rock hard in his own pants. He can’t help but to keep his eyes glued to your tiny little cunt struggling to accept König. The way your creamy cum covers his cock. You’re loving this and it kills him.

“Father…” The words slip your lips before you realize you’re moaning his name. Your eyes instantly shoot up to Lucas. An orgasm is building up but you try to fight it. Mouth hanging open, you let out a loud moan as König begins to buck into you faster.

“Cum for me.” König drops one leg and reaches out to squeeze your left breast. 

As you gaze at Lucas your body trembles under König, the sound of your wet cunt getting louder as you cum on his cock.

“That’s it, you’re doing so well.” König leans over and begins to kiss you passionately, stealing your attention back to him. “Your pussy gets so wet for Father.” His whispers kissing down your jaw. 

König pulls out, his large hands grasping your body and turning you over. You get on all fours, facing Lucas. He comes up behind you and slips his cock back into you without words. His hands squeeze the fat on your ass, spanking you to see the jiggle. Lucas glares at him, this is sex for pleasure for Father. His glare does not go unnoticed. 

“I’m close to giving you my seed Liebling…” König’s deep sensual voice now strained from the feelings of your tiny cunt sucking him in. “Lucas, please pray.”

“Pray?” He sounds shocked.

“For me to cum in your wife. For me to impregnate her.”

Your fingers are grabbing beat sheets as you look at Lucas. Babbling words as he thrust his cock even deeper into you. König grabs a fist full of your hair, holding your head up so Lucas has to see the way he is turning his wife into nothing but a stupid little sex doll.

“Please Lord, hear my prayers. Please let Father König’s seed be successful and fruitful.” Lucas looks at you with a slight bit of disgust. His sweet Catholic wife would never be enjoying fornication with another man this much. This was all a mistake.

“Say you want my cum!”

“Please, please cum in me! Please God! Please fill me!” Your voice is so enthusiastic, you’ve never acted like this for Lucas before.

“Ah, Ja!” König stops moving and pushes his cock deep into you. Your eyes roll back and Lucus turns his head to not see the finale play out.

König leans forward and kisses down your neck, biting you so hard he leaves a mark. He rests his body over yours, panting slightly.

.

.

Fully dressed you all stand by the door. You’re glowing. A huge smile on your face as you gaze at Father König with dreamy eyes. König reaches out and caresses your bottom lip with his thumb. Lucas stands there with a defeated look on his face, slightly dissociated in this moment as his mind tries to process what he witnessed.

“If this isn’t successful, my door is always open.” König grins at Lucas as he opens the door for you both.

Part 2

[leclerc-hs]

tachycardia pt.2 - cl16

pairing: doctor!charles leclerc x nurse!reader (alpha/omega au) summary: in which you don't always get along with the arrogant alpha doctor warnings: LIGHT a/b/o dynamics, angst??, none really (yet!), badly translated French (didn't really put french in this), NOT PROOFREAD word count: 1.5k author's note: hi!!!!!! did you miss me??? I missed all of you! sorry this is SO short but I wanted to post something in honor of reaching 2,000 FOLLOWERS!!! I love u all sm and I'm sorry this is kinda shit. I've been in a really bad writing funk recently but I'm hoping to get out of it. don’t forget to talk to me and don’t be shy I love to hear from all of you!!!! I will try to get the ball rolling on this series as soon as I can. I just kinda started it without even knowing where I wanted it to go so I'm kinda just winging it as I write with whatever comes to mind. if you have anything you would like to see happen in this series PLEASE don’t be shy and let me know I love to hear your thoughts and ideas!!!! xoxo taglist: @amalialeclerc @barcelonaloverf1life @charizznorizz @magicpancake @zabwlky1999

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

AS YOU SIT across from your younger sister in the cozy confines of the café adjacent to the bustling hospital, you can’t help but marvel at the enigmatic workings of her mind.

“Is it really like that? Sex in the on-call rooms?” The question bursts forth accompanied by a hearty laugh, your body leaning forward in laughter. 

“How many times do I have to tell you no?”  You retort, meeting her gaze with an air of firmness amidst the playful banter. 

“What about in the locker room?” She presses further, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

“No, and stop indulging in such ludicrous fantasies.” You respond, bringing your cup of coffee to your mouth, you pause before taking a sip. “You know well enough that I don’t engage in relationships with doctors.” A fleeting sense of contentment washes over you with the warmth of the coffee. 

She emits a deep sigh, deeply annoyed. “Are any of them at least cute?”

You feel your stomach churn as the image of Doctor Leclerc floods your thoughts. He’s far more than just attractive. You hesitate for a beat, staring at her wide, expectant eyes. “Yes.”

Her eyes light up almost instantly. “Who?”

“I forget. I don’t really know him.” Liar.

“What does he look like?”

“Brown hair. Very green eyes.” Your fingers twiddle with the napkin on the table, feigning disinterest.

She gives you a skeptical look as if she can read your mind and tell you’re lying. But she doesn’t push further. “When do you have to be back?”

You briefly glance at the time on the screen of your phone, “Shit.” Rising abruptly, you shove the chair back with a jolt, shooting your sister an apologetic glance. “I have to go. I’ll see you at mom’s this weekend?”

You’re already pushing the front door of the café open by the time you hear your sister half-shout, “Yes!”

-

You burst into your patient’s room, breaths coming in ragged gasps, cheeks flushed with exertion. You say a silent prayer to whatever higher power that he wasn’t here yet. 

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” 

Did you mention that this particular patient has a knack for hitting on you?

Your heart skips a beat, and if it weren’t for the already flushed hue of your cheeks, you’re certain the blush creeping up on your neck would be glaringly obvious.

“Mr.,” You pause to glance at the chart to double-check his name, “Mr. Hart, how are you feeling today?”

“Meilleur, now that you’re here.” Better. You curl your lips upward into a soft smile, jokingly rolling your eyes at his antics.

“Surely you’re sick of seeing my face, Mr. Hart.” You quip, reaching for a stool beside his bed while simultaneously checking his IV bags. “Today’s the day I think!”

Mr. Hart has been in the hospital for over a week, recovering from a surgery for a atrial septal defect.  

“Jamais.” Never. He insists, his head sinking back against the pillow as his gaze follows your every movement. “I’m so close to being able to ask you out properly.”

In that moment, a new scent permeates the air, distinct and alluring. Without even turning around, you sense his presence—the man who just breezed in behind you. Whether he heard the exchange or not, you weren��t sure, but the subtle shift in the atmosphere is palpable regardless.

“Mr. Hart,” His voice, deep and honeyed, washes over you, almost too sweet to be genuine. “Still stirring up trouble for our lovely nurses?” Despite the playful tone, you can sense an undercurrent of something morecalculated beneath his words. His presence radiates warmth, his tall figure looming beside you, close enough to make your skin prickle with awareness. 

“No,” Mr. Hart grins. “Just her.”

Doctor Leclerc’s smile remains fixed, but you catch the subtle clench of his jaw as you turn your head to meet his gaze. “Just stopping by to let you know that we might need to keep you for another night.”

The news catches you off guard; you were under the impression that Mr. Hart would be discharged by the end of the day. As if he could sense the questions brewing in your mind, Doctor Leclerc continues, his voice reassuring. “Just a precautionary measure. I assure you; we’ll have you cleared to leave bright and early tomorrow morning.”

Mr. Hart hums nonchalantly, as if the prospect of another night in the hospital doesn’t bother him in the slightest. His attention remains fixated on you as you inspect the sutures on his chest, his fingertips grazing against your gloved hand with a deliberate touch. “Can’t complain as long as she’s the one checking on me.”

You let out a small laugh, but don’t say anything, as you stand up and remove the gloves to toss them in the waste bin nearby.  

“Mr. Hart,” Doctor Leclerc’s voice is unamused now. “You would be wise to refrain your hands from touching her again. Next time I won’t ask so politely.”

-

Pressed against a wall while in the presence of Doctor Leclerc seems to be a common occurrence nowadays. His tall frame blocking any potential onlookers from seeing who he had cornered.

“Dis-moi,” Tell me. His voice is low, lethal. “Do you flirt with patients often, hm?” 

“What is your problem?” You quip, your brows furrowed as you crane your neck back to look him in the eyes. 

“My problem?” He scoffs, leaning closer to your face, his lips thinned in annoyance. “My problem is that I have to stand there and watch a patient flirt with you,” He clicks his tongue in frustration, turning his head to look away for a brief moment. Giving you a moment, to take in the sharpness of his jawline, and the unshaven scruff that shadows it. “And you…” His voice trailed off.

“And I, what?” You pulled your lips into a slight frown.

“You smell like that,” His hands wavered around your body, in an exasperated manner.

“Smell like what?” 

As he shook his head in disbelief, a mixture of frustration and something deeper etched acoss his features. The disbelief seemed to stem from his inability to fathom that you were completely unaware of something soevident to him. It was that scent, the sweet floral scent that always accompanied you. It drove him mad sometimes. How it was almost the only thing he could focus on sometimes.

With a disapproving click of his tongue, he took a deliberate step back, as if needed physical distance to collect his thoughts.

Ignoring your inquiry, his gaze softened, the intensity in his eyes giving way to a gentler expression as they locked on yours.

Caught off guard by the swift change in his demeanor, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of whiplash from the abrupt shift.

“I wouldn’t say often,” you began, punctuating the order with a slight shrug. “It’s all harmless.”

His response was solemn, his voice carrying a weight of protectiveness that left no room for misinterpretation. “I don’t want them to put their hands on you ever again,” he declared firmly. “If you ever have issues, you can come to me.”

His words resonated with a gravity that made it clear he meant every syllable, his stance unwavering in its determination to shield you from harm.

Your throat tightened as you swallowed, acutely aware of the intensity in his gaze tracing the delicate curve of your neck.

“Moving forward, I will be the one to check on Mr. Hart,” he announced, his voice carrying a note of authority softened by a touch of concern.

With a deliberate motion, he extended his arm, his fingers brushing against your skin as he gently tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ear.

The proximity of his touch sent a rush of warmth to your cheeks, the tenderness in his gesture catching you off guard, yet somehow soothing in its unexpectedness. Dr. Leclerc’s presence seemed to envelop you whenever he was near. As if nothing else in the world existed no matter the premise of the discussion, including the constant bickering you two always seemed to do.

“Will you be at James’ retirement party?” The question slipped from your lips before you could fully weigh its significance. Yet, deep down, you knew the answer matters more to you than you cared to admit. You found yourself wanting him to be there, though the reasons remained elusive, even to yourself.

Yes, he was an ass to you most of the time. But, for some reason you couldn’t really fathom, he was always in the forefront of your mind.

His head tilted slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. Though he would never openly confess, the idea of attending hadn’t crossed his mind until that moment. However, if there was even the slightest chance that you would be there, he couldn’t bring himself to refuse. 

“Yes,” he replied simply, the single word carrying more weight than its brevity suggested.

You nodded slowly, as if processing his response required a deeper level of understanding. “See you there?” You ventured, the question hanging in the air, pregnant with unspoken implications.

He nodded, pulling his lips into the faintest smirk.

“See you there, mon lapin.”