#no; they weren't; you just fucking buy into shit way to easy

[medicinemane]

I'm still mad about the friend of mine who got harassed off of here. Any time I see their old url, it feels really nice to see it again, but then I remember why they're not using it anymore

Didn't do a damn thing wrong, just annoyed some people enough they started a harassment campaign. They literally said as much, I'm not just making that up. Every last thing they supposedly did wrong either wasn't wrong period, was twisting their words hardcore, or was a situation where they didn't realize the context of a phrase they were using a tiny bit of gentle correction was enough to make them go "oh shit, I didn't realize that" and change (but still get harassed even though they literally had already changed)

Accused of all kind of horrible shit over fucking nothing, people just like having an acceptable target and are a bit over eager to buy into slander that if you actually know the person is demonstrably false

I still talk to them of course, but the past pisses me off

[fordaryl]

REMEMBER.

minors dni. 2.6k words. smut. daryl dixon x fem!reader. protective daryl. hint of size kink. strength kink.

It's easy to forget his strength when his touch is always so gentle. When you're safe, he lets you forget everything he's capable of; the reason you've both made it this long.

Safety lets you forget.

And then—when it inevitably all it all goes to shit again—you remember.

"Get in!" he calls through the wall of bodies separating you. He keeps the attention of most of them, but there's a few stumbling in your direction—too many for you to handle alone. "Now!" he shouts as he takes another growling walker down.

It goes against every instinct you have—to leave him to fight this alone. But this was his domain. This was when you did whatever the fuck he told you to do. It was how you survived.

You drag the door of the container open, grunting as the heavy metal fights back. It's a makeshift prison cell, one that was supposed to be filled with live bait for the walkers. It would be if it weren't for Daryl. He was almost single-handedly dismantling whatever fucked up enterprise you'd both stumbled upon.

One of them reaches you before you'd manage to push the gate open enough to slip through.

One is fine. You can handle one.

Turning around to deal with it gives you a split second to check in on Daryl. He's making a dent in the mass of bodies, but it's not enough. Not with the shouts of the living making their way closer.

You kick the walker you've knifed back into the mass of bodies approaching, giving you just enough time to slip through the crack you've made in the sliding door and slam it closed behind you.

Locking it is another story.

You have no hope of accomplishing that.

Still, it's enough for now. It's enough to let Daryl keep his focus where it needs to be as you deal with as many as you can through the bars.

Then one gets shot down. Daryl, is your first thought. But then two are shot down at once. And then the voices reach your ears. Voices are bad. Walkers you can handle. The living was another story. Nothing stoked the fear constantly simmers in your gut like the voices of the living.

They shout over each other, calling directions as they pick off the mass with a spray of bullets. You can't see Daryl anymore. He's either dead or hiding.

Hiding. Hiding. Hiding.

You shift back into one of the dark corners of the container as the shouts draw nearer.

“What the fuck happened?! Don't shoot them you dumb fucks! Get any you can back into holding!”

Any second now... any second they'd find Daryl and your world would end. The living were different. The living were monsters of a different kind.

"They're bunched up around this one!" someone shouts.

You hold your breath.

"Well check it out then!" another demands.

Oh, fuck. You grip your pistol. Your aim was decent. You could take one out, maybe two. But there's a whole group... and they were coming for you.

You scramble to the other far corner as the last of the walkers are cleared from the entrance, hoping to take advantage of the darkest shadows. Daryl would be watching... waiting. Any extra moment you could give him could be vital.

"You better come out now," a man calls from outside. He's just out of your sights, prepared for you to be armed and ready to fight. You'd hoped to have the element of surprise. "I ain't asking."

You know what'll happened when they find you. It's the same thing each time. You're prey to people like these—something to hunt in a world without consequences for that kind of thing.

Your silence buys you less than a minute before the first of them are dragging the metal gate open. If you shoot, they'll shoot back. It's not something you'll survive cornered like this. So you bet on them being the same as the rest. You let them know you're prey.

"Please," you call, as meek and afraid as you can manage—vulnerable. Not a threat. "I'm—I'm unarmed."

Then a bright light blinds you.

"What the fuck?" one of them exclaims. Then, "Where'd the fuck this little thing come from?"

There it was. Little. Thing. You were nothing. You're not a threat. You'd bought Daryl more time.

"Come on out, girl. Come on." They call you like you're a dog, something less than human. That's how they see you. Something to use.

You take a small step forward, still blinded by their flashlights. Daryl was alive. He was alive and hiding and he was waiting for something.

You just had to stay alive.

"What do you... want with me?" you ask, still taking tiny steps towards the light. Weak. Vulnerable. No threat.

You get muffled laughter in response. Guards down. Distracted.

"What do we want? We want a little fun, honey. That's all. Just a bit of fun."

They're flash lights drop as you approach the entrance. They've pulled the gate all the way across.

Five. You count five. If you kill two...

"Why is she alone?" one of them questions. He's younger, a little less distracted.

The rest ignore him. Then one of them has you by the arm, dragging you the rest of the way out of the makeshift cell. They're hands send a wave of repulsion through your body as they grab at you, pulling you around and shoving you in front of them. They may as well be the undead the way their touch feels against your skin.

The young one doesn't move out of the way when you reach him. Instead he stares into you, suspicious and angry. "Who are you with?" he asks. Even then, his gun is lowered. Even to him you aren't a threat.

"Get the fuck out of the way," the man gripping your arm says, clearly irritated and impatient.

"But—"

"Now."

His eyes narrow, but then he steps aside—his back pressed to the wall to let the rest of the men past. It's now that you get a look down into the pit of walkers, the one's they've managed to recapture rather than take out. They reach up towards you, hands grabbing for you.

Then, only a few steps later—you're stopped. The man with his hand wrapped around your elbow leans over your shoulder, his rancid breath invading your nostrils as he speaks. "You alone?" he asks. "You tell me right now."

You blink away the burn threatening to pool tears in your eyes. Were you alone? If you were...

The man's grip tightens, the only warning you get before you're forced to your knees and staring down into the pit of hungry walkers. "Speak," he demands, nails carving into your skin. "I'd hate to waste you like this."

There's two other men behind you. Three surrounding you in total. You could take one out for sure. They hadn't even searched you for weapons. They expected nothing out of you at all.

But then there'd be two, only counting the ones in reaching distance. How long would it take the other two further away to aim their guns in your direction?

You were dying tonight if Daryl was dead, that was certain. Your only hope was that he was waiting and watching... but what would he be waiting for...

Your pistol sits at your hip, a comfortable weight.

You take a deep breath. You could wait to die. Or fight now and hope that's the moment he's waiting for... if he's waiting at all.

The man holding you drops to one knee behind you. He leans over to speak in your ear. You wouldn't need to rely on your aim for the first kill, only any that followed. It was a headstart you weren't likely to get again. You reach for your pistol and before the man can open his lips and taint your senses with his rot once more, you shoot him through the underside of his jaw.

Your ears ring as his body drops. But you were ready. The men behind you aren't.

You were nothing. Prey.

The few seconds that affords you are priceless. You manage to shoot one more through the head before he can get hands on his own weapon.

The third is another story. His gun is pointed at you for what must be milliseconds. They drag though, those moments with an enemy weapon pointed at your head always do.

But then Daryl is there, strangling the man with a rifle and shoving his body into the ground with a force that reverberates through the metal. It's only when he snaps the man's neck you spot the bodies behind him.

He'd been waiting for you.

You watch him stand, hair hanging in his face and his chest rising and falling with his deep breaths.

Then his eyes are on you.

Then his hands.

Those hands... the same ones he'd used seconds earlier to break a man's neck. His fingers are feathers across your skin as he brushes the hair back off your face. "Okay?" he asks, soft and a little shaky.

You nod.

"You did good," he says, that deep gravel back in his voice. "So good, sweetheart." His hand makes a trail down to your neck, gentle and slow over your pulse point to rest at your clavicle. "We gotta go," he says. "Stay close for me, yeah?"

—————

The first time after is always the same—after you're forced to remember. It adds something to the way his gentle hands feel as he reaches over your hips to dip between your legs. To the way his body feels pressed up behind yours.

His thick fingers slip between your slick folds as he holds you tight against his chest. Heat. It's an overwhelming heat. He crowds you, practically curled around you.

"You like that sweetheart?" His voice is almost sweet as his lips graze your ears and his long hair tickles your skin. "Huh? You like that?"

You nod with a small whine, pressing your hips back into him—desperate.

He sighs, finger prodding over and over at your swollen entrance—a teasing little hint of what's to come. He dips in slightly, his calloused fingertip pressing into your slippery, spongy entrance just enough to have you whimpering his name.

"Fuck," he grunts. "You need me here? Huh? You all fuckin' empty?"

"Yeah," you whine with a desperate nod. "Empty."

His grip around your ribs tightens for a moment before he's pressing you into the ground—cushioned by the few blankets you carry. He's rolled you onto your belly as he covers you completely, his warmth seeping into your skin from his calves to his hot breath on your neck.

"What do you need?" he asks. As if he doesn't know; as if he didn't always know.

"You."

"Hm?" he hums, sweet and coaxing. "How?"

You reach blindly to find his wrist, gripping it firmly. "Hold me tight," you gasp between jagged breaths. "Please... Please."

His weight is heavy over you as he drops his lips to your neck, a silent acknowledgement of your pleas.

Then he's scooping you up, lifting you and rearranging you exactly the way you want him to. Because he fucking knows.

He has you pressed to his chest with your tits against his skin as he lays back into the makeshift bed you've created for the night. His arms wrap around you, one across your shoulder blades and the other around your waist—secure and firm. His fingers press sporadically into your skin a little more than needed, like he's testing his grip on you; like he's testing he has you in his arms good and tight.

Then he hooks one leg under yours, a gentle guide to part your legs just the way he needs.

"You ready for me, sweetheart?" he breathes against your temple as one of his hands leaves you. It's temporary, you remind yourself. He'd be wrapping you up securely as soon as he'd buried himself deep; once his cock was guided safely into your throbbing cunt.

You nip at his neck in response, chasing with a delicate lick at his salty skin. "Please," you ask softly.

Then he's adjusting you against him a little, ensuring you're exactly where he needs you to be. "I got you," he says as his leaking tip prods at your entrance. "Got you," he repeats. He mumbles this way as he teases; as he plays. This was what he did: pushed you to the brink of desperate sobs as he guides his cockhead over your slippery, throbbing cunt... over and over.... and over...

Saying he liked you needy was an understatement.

Then, eventually, he slips inside. Just the tip.. and not far. Just enough so that he can wrap his arms around you again. Just enough that he can have you whimpering his name as he prevents you grinding down to take him deep inside.

This is when he gives you a hint of his strength. It's easy to keep you from your goal, his strong arms pressing you into his torso a little harder each time you attempt to resist.

He keeps you there, just with a taste of that fullness—a taste of having him as close as it was possible to be. "Kiss," he says, simple and a little croaky.

You obey, pressing your desperation between his lips. It's messy and interrupted by moments where you simply need to breathe, heavily—his lips chasing yours as you attempt to catch your breath.

"Daryl," you gasp eventually. "Now. Please."

His grip around you tightens a little as you drop your face to his neck.

Then he pulls you down to meet his cock, to fuck himself deep. It's hard, exactly like you need it—exactly the way he knows you want it. You bite into his neck weakly as he keeps you there, stuffed full—the thick throbbing length of him stretching you out so completely.

Then, "Like that?" he asks, that sweetness back in his voice—like he's offering you a gentle back massage instead of holding you down on his cock.

You nod weakly in response.

His fingers press into your skin moments before he's moving, fucking himself with your cunt as he pulls you down to meet his messy thrusts. You're completely pliant like this, all control relinquished.

He's got you.

His breathing is quickly transformed into uneven pants as he attempts to grunt broken sentences into your ear. "Sucking me in... sucking at my cock with your messy little cunt... aren't you, baby? Hm?"

One of his hands moves to your hair occasionally, a temporary and seemingly subconscious attempt to get a better grip—or just to hold you closer. His fingers tangle in the strands, never tugging hard—never hurting.

"My girl," he grunts. "My needy little girl."

It's only when he's nearing his end that he flips you onto your back and you get a real display. He grips your hips and tugs you down to meet him as he uses you, each thrust a slapping of skin and punching a helpless sound from your lungs.

Strength. Everything you've been forced to remember.

"Daryl," you gasp. "Daryl, fill me. Please."

His fingers dig a little more into your skin, his hair falling over his eyes. Then his lips part, a grunt... a broken, "Fuck."

He falls over you as he floods you, his cock twitching and pumping you full—just like you asked. But even then, even as he loses himself, he catches his fall—arms landing either side of your head to cage you in. "Got you," he gasps out between desperate lung fulls of air. "I got you."

[etheraltides]

BITTER SWEET ᥫ᭡࿔

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x kook!thornton!Reader

Summarize: Rafe Cameron, a rising name in the business world, desperately needs a date for the wedding of the year. With a major investment deal on the line and his image at stake, he finds himself reluctantly turning to the last person he ever expected for help: Topper’s little sister, a girl he’s bickered with since he could remember.

Warning(s): cursing, Rafe being Rafe.

A/N: English isn’t my first language and I did my best to edit it all - so if something escaped me, please, let me know. Feedback is more than welcome .ᐟ

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ Chapter two: shopping for disaster ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

Rafe Cameron sat in his car outside Topper's house, the black SUV gleaming under the midday sun. He glanced at his watch for the third time in less than ten minutes, annoyance bubbling beneath the surface. Rafe had dismissed all his meetings in the afternoon and a few in the morning to make sure he'd be there in time so she wouldn't have an excuse to back away from it. He hadn't expected her to take her sweet time, but he should have known better.

Rafe should've known you weren't be civil even if you accepted it. Which, to be honest, still surprised him. He was ready to have the door slammed on his face but it seems not even you could say no to some easy money.

His phone buzzed with a text and for a moment, he thought it was saying you'd be down in five, but it was just Topper reminding him about their gym session tomorrow morning, having no idea what his best friend and sister were plotting behind his back. He sighed, shifting in his seat, the leather creaking under his movements in a way that had his annoyance growing. Why was it taking so long for you to get ready? You weren’t going for some fashion show, just to buy stuff downtown.

"Fucking bitch" Rafe muttered under his breath, hitting the horn a couple of times. He was already regretting all of this. The longer he sat there, the more the idea of bringing you as his fake girlfriend felt like a terrible decision. You'd probably jump at every chance to mess with him like you were doing now.

Just as he was about to give up and head home to, hopefully, contact a few clients, he spotted a car pulling up. He hadn't seen this one around before and by the low price, it surely wasn't your family’s. From the rearview mirror, he saw the loser push his aviators up, leaning in to kiss the girl. Rafe's stomach twisted as Topper's sister slid out, your hair tousled and a satisfied smile playing on your lips. Gross.

The sight of her closing the passenger door sent a jolt of irritation through him, mixed with something he couldn't quite identify. You looked carefree, laughing at something the guy said, and for a moment, Rafe felt like an intruder on a private scene he had no right to witness.

"Seriously?" he muttered under his breath, slamming closed the door of his truck. Were you hooking up while he was waiting in the sun?

You turned around towards the voice, your smile fading when you caught sight of him. His jaw clenched and his gaze sharp.

"Rafe?" you asked, surprise etching your features as you adjusted the strap of your bag, the casual air of confidence slipping slightly. You hadn't noticed his car when the touron parked. "You're early."

If Topper heard about this, you'd be dammed. You had told him you'd be sleeping over a friend.

"Or you're late.” he replied, crossing his arms, unable to keep the edge out of his voice. "What was that all about?"

Your brows furrowed, the glint in your eyes replaced by defensiveness. "I had... plans. Not that it's any of your business."

"Plans? Is that what you call it?" Rafe shot back, frustration bubbling to the surface as he ran a hand through his buzzcut. "You said we'd leave at noon. Did you really think it was okay to keep me waiting while you were off with some random douchebag? I fucking canceled my meetings to be here on time because you wanted to go shopping for shit!''

"As if you care, idiot." you snapped, the challenge in your voice clear. "I'm doing you a favor, remember? You have no right to question me about my plans and he wasn't a douchebag."

"Because I thought you'd have some decency!" he countered, irritation lacing his tone as he struggled to keep his voice down, walking closer to you. He points towards the car was minutes ago. "That asshole didn't even open the door for you when he dropped you off."

"Well, it was better than sit around and wait for you!" you shot back, an eyebrow raised defiantly as you wrapped your hair in a messy bun, feeling too hot from all this arguing in the sun. "It's not like you're the perfect image of being on time."

He shook his head, trying to tamp down the rising anger and something deeper that he always refused to acknowledge. "Let's just go, alright?" he muttered, opening the passenger door for you with an exaggerated sight.

You arched a brow, starring at him while he stood there with the door held open, for you. Whatever. You shook your head, clenching your jaw as you moved to the passenger seat, only to realize a second too late that you needed to change into something… well, better. The door was already slammed closed and Rafe was already on his seat.

Rafe started the engine and pulled out of the driveway. The radio was off and you had your arms crossed over your chest, looking to the window with an almost unnotiaciable pount on your lips. He didn't even give you time to shower and change. How could you go shopping in a t-shirt and jean shorts? Rude. Brute.

"Do you even have a plan for this?" you asked after a few minutes in silence, watching the front of the boutiques.

"Yeah, I figured we'd just wing it" he replied, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. Did Topper know you were hanging around with broken tourons now? If not, he'd make sure to tell him later.

"Wing it? You're kidding, right?" you laughed, but the sound had a sharp edge. A superiority that crawled under his skin. "People love to gossip at these events. If we just act like we're a couple, someone will definitely ask questions."

"Fine." he snapped, annoyance dripping in his voice as he parked the car in front of one of the many expensive stores of the island. "What do you suggest then, Mrs. Director of Fake Dates."

He hopped off the car and you rolled your eyes, grabbing your bag. You muttered a thank you as he opened the door for you, stopping in the sidewalk.

"Where did you say the wedding was again?" you furrowed your brows, not really remembering this piece of information. "Well, anyway. We need a backstory. Something believable. How about we say we've known each other since we were kids? You're my brother best friend. We had a falling out last summer and decided to give it another shot. Cliché. People eat that shit."

"Italy" He shrugged, following you as you decided which store would be first. You stopped in your tracks, looking at him with arched brows.

"Did you just say Italy as if in Europe?" you blinked, taking a deep breath as you nodded at yourself.

“How many fucking Italies do you know?” He snorted as his head turned to look at you, dumbfounded. You forced a smile, showing him the middle finger.

"Don't worry. It's just for one weekend, I told you." He held open the door of the boutique you stopped in front of, pushing you inside by the shoulder. "Let's keep the details of the story short, alright? The less people know, the better.”

“All right, Mr. Boring. Time to find me a dress that won’t embarrass you.”

Rafe followed you inside, mentally preparing himself for the impending chaos. The store was bright and stylish, filled with an array of dresses and heels. You immediately dove into the racks, pulling out pieces in vibrant colors and flowing fabrics, not sparring him a second glance.

Fuck, he could already feel his pockets hurting.

“Help me out here,” you called over your shoulder, an armful of dresses piled high. “You’ve got baby arms but let’s see if they can handle this.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes as he picked up a few dresses. “I don’t have baby arms,” he retorted, but the smirk on his face betrayed his amusement. Baby arms, really?

“Are you serious right now?” you teased, glancing back at him with a playful challenge in your eyes. “Maybe I should get you my workout plan instead of a dress.”

He shot you a glare, but the corner of his mouth twitched in a reluctant smile before he caught himself. “Just get what you need, and I’ll carry it, but don’t expect me to play your little games.”

You grinned, the mischievous light in your eyes making his heart race. Because you were infuriating. “Oh, but you’re going to play. It’s part of the deal.”

You’d already been through several rounds of dresses - each one met with a casual nod or a half-hearted comment from Rafe as he scrolled on his phone. A sleek black gown had caught his eye for a moment, and the deep red one had nearly made him lose his cool, but he managed to keep his reactions under control. He wasn’t about to give you the satisfaction of knowing just how much he was affected. You already were infuriating enough without him feeding your ego.

But then you stepped out in a blue dress. It wasn’t just any blue dress—it clung to you figure like it was made for you, the fabric flowing and shimmering as you walked. It hugged your figure perfectly, accentuating you curves in a way that made his breath hitch. The neckline dipped just enough to draw the eye, and the slit running from the edge of the dress to the top of you thigh was nothing short of provocative. Rafe felt his heart race, an unfamiliar heat burning in his veins.

He caught himself staring, quickly snapping his gaze back up to your face. Get it together, Cameron. She was annoying, infuriating, and the last person he should be looking at like that. Yet here he was, shifting in his seat, a strange heat building in his chest as you spun around and gave him a look that practically dared him to say something.

“What do you think?” you asked, your voice teasing but soft, as if you already knew the effect the dress was having on him.

He cleared his throat, trying desperately to summon one of his usual sarcastic remarks. “It’s… fine,” he managed, though his voice didn’t carry its usual edge.

You tilted your head, eyes gleaming with amusement as you starred at him through the mirror. “Fine? Just fine?” You pouted and turned around. You stepped closer, and he could feel the air between you grow thicker. “You’re not even looking.”

“I’m looking,” he muttered, his eyes betraying him again by glancing down at your legs before he moved it to his phone. He hated how easy it was for you to get under his skin. Every part of him was screaming to look away, to say something snarky and put you in her place, but for once, he couldn’t find the words. You looked too good. He hated it.

“No witty comeback? Wow, I’m impressed,” you teased, taking another step forward, the fabric of the dress shifting with your movement in a way that only drew his attention more.

He swallowed hard, doing his best to remember why you annoyed him so much. You’re frustrating. You’re a pain. He forced himself to think of every little thing you’d ever done to irritate him, but the sight of you in that dress made it nearly impossible.

“At least you’re as hot as you are annoying,” he finally muttered under his breath, shaking his head in a vain attempt to hide the fact that his pulse was racing.

You raised an eyebrow, clearly delighted with his response. A surprise chuckle escaped your lips. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Rafe huffed, trying to regain some composure. “Don’t get used to it,” he said, though the slight crack in his voice betrayed him.

“Too much for your business crowd?” you asked, spinning around in front of the mirror, your tone laced with amusement.

“Nah, you’ll fit right in,” he said, though his mind was screaming the opposite. Too much. Way too much. Too much for his own sake.

As you turned back to the mirror, adjusting the slit in the dress, Rafe allowed himself one more glance, feeling a mix of frustration and something else bubble up inside him. He preferred you when you were just annoying.

“I’m not carrying you out when those heels become too much,” he tossed out, trying to steer the conversation back into a safer territory.

You laughed, not missing a beat. “Don’t worry, I can handle myself. But it’s nice to know you’re concerned.”

“Concerned?” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “More like I just don’t want you slowing me down.”

But as you disappeared back into the fitting room, he leaned against the wall, running a hand through his hair in frustration. You were supposed to be his best friend’s little infuriating sister helping him with this. Yet with every passing second, it felt like you were becoming something else entirely. He couldn’t shake the way his gaze lingered on you, how he was beginning to dread the moment you’d step out of his line of sight. When did you turn human and stopped being a complete bitch?

Maybe it’s just been too long since Rafe got laid. Yeah, that was right. Between throwing his dad’s ashes and building a name for himself in the business world, Rafe barely had time to find some release. He’d fix it tonight.

Rafe was already at the counter, signing off on the receipt for all the dresses you’d tried on and decided that would be used in the weekend. His jaw clenched as he tried to ignore the numbers.

“Well, that was fun,” you quipped, an exaggerated smile as you leaned next to him, telling the lady that he’d be carrying all the bags.

Rafe shot you a look, muttering, “Fun? For you, maybe.”

“Come on, Rafe,” you teased, “one of the conditions for me agreeing to this whole thing was that you pay for everything.”

He scoffed, sliding his black card back into his wallet. “Yeah, trust me, I’m well aware. Still doesn’t make it any less painful.”

“Don’t be such a baby. We’re practically made of money,” you said, glancing at the bags filled with dresses for the wedding weekend. “Besides, you should be thanking me. You’re the one getting something out of this.”

“Yeah, I’m getting a headache.”

You rolled her eyes, nudging him playfully - a bit too hard. “You’re so dramatic.”

He offered you the fakest smile you’ve ever seen before shoving half of the bags to you.

As you stepped out into the street, Rafe hesitated. Against his better judgment, he found himself saying, “You hungry?”

You blinked, clearly surprised. “Why, Rafe Cameron, are you actually offering to buy me food after spending all that cash on dresses?”

“Don’t push it,” he grumbled, starting to walk toward a small café nearby. “But since we’re supposed to be convincing everyone at this wedding, we might as well figure out the rules over lunch.”

You followed, a surprised smirk playing on your lips. “Rules? You mean besides the one where you’re my personal ATM for the weekend?”

“Yeah, that one too,” he said dryly as they found a table outside the café, placing the bags down not so gently.

You sat down, menus in hand, and for a brief moment, they both seemed content to sit in silence. Until you broke it.

“Okay, so first rule,” you glanced up from the menu. “No kissing.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. “Why would think I’d kiss you? I’m not desperate”

“We can hold hands, lean in, whatever. But no actual kissing,” you insisted, tone firm. “This is strictly business.”

“We can hold hands, lean in, whatever. But no actual kissing,” she insisted, her tone firm. “This is strictly business.”

“Strictly business, huh?” He smirked, shaking his head. “You say that, but you’ll be the one swooning if we get too close.”

You let out a laugh, clearly unimpressed. “Please, Cameron, if you were half as charming as you think you are, you wouldn’t need a fake girlfriend in the first place.”

“Oh, I’m charming enough. You’re just stubborn and blind.” He leaned in a little, lowering his voice. “Admit it - you’re at least a little curious what it’d be like.”

Your smile faltered just for a second before it was replaced with a disgusted face, “Curious? About you? Only to see how much more annoying you can get.”

Rafe’s gaze flickered down to your legs as you shifted in the seat, his jaw tightening as he caught himself. Annoying. Infuriating. But damn if you’re not hot, he thought, biting back a comment. His expression hardened, trying to snap himself out of it. He really needed to get laid, quickly.

You crossed your arms, leaning forward a little. “Second rule: no jealous boyfriend act. I don’t need you scaring off guys at the wedding.”

Rafe rolled his eyes. “Why would I be jealous? Get over yourself.”

“Yeah, okay,” you leaned back in your chair. “Just remember, this isn’t real. No need for the possessive act.”

“I got it. Fake dating. No jealousy,” he repeated, the sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“And no trying to use this as an excuse to annoy me,” you added with a pointed look. “Topper won’t be knowing about this. Ever.”

Rafe barked out a laugh. “Annoy you? That’s practically the only fun part of this arrangement.”

“Right, because you’re soooo fun to be around,” you shot back, rolling your eyes dramatically.

“Look, just follow my lead, alright? I’ll make sure we don’t look like complete idiots in front of my business associates,” he said, picking up his menu.

“I’m not the one who looks like an idiot,” you muttered under your breath, pretending to read the menu.

He snorted, clearly hearing you, but chose not to respond. The air was filled with silence again as they waited for the waiter.

Finally, you set your menu down and locked eyes with him. “Okay, but one more thing.”

“What now?” he asked, exasperated.

“No flirting with other girls while we’re there. I’m not covering for you if you get caught in some hotel scandal.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, half amused and half annoyed. “Please. I should’ve known you were the jealous type.”

“Oh, sure,” your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Just stick to the plan, Rafe. We get in, play our parts, and get out without embarrassing ourselves. You can handle that, right?”

Rafe leaned in slightly, his smirk still in place. “I don’t know, princess. You seem pretty good at embarrassing yourself. Might be contagious.”

You glared at him but couldn’t hold back a small smile. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re still here, so what does that say about you?”

You opened you mouth to respond, ready say that it made you the kindest person in the world, but the waiter returned just in time to take your orders. As you waited for the waitress to come back with your order, you pulled your phone to scroll, had seen enough of Rafe’s face for the afternoon.

You tried to think of the best way to survive this fake dating arrangement with as little emotional damage as possible for one weekend. Maybe you’d end up killing each other first.

“Can you…” you took a deep breath, nibbling on your bottom lip while you looked around before meeting his gaze. “Not tell Topper about what you’ve seen earlier?”

“The douchebag?” Rafe arched a brow, his jaw tensing as he remembered the encounter, your hair tousled.

“He isn’t a douchebag but yeah, that.” you let out a long sigh, sipping on your juice.

“I’ll think about it. Let’s see how you will do during the wedding, huh.” He offered you one of these smug smirks that made you want to punch his face. Of course he wouldn’t make things easy for you.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ TAGLIST: @megiiite @melsunshine @maybankslover @wearemadeofstardust0 @lilithblackkk

[ba9go]

texts with fwb to bf!bakugou katsuki (pt. 3)

fwb to lovers 🙂‍↕️ hurt/comfort, bkg brings u ice cream and confesses, getting together, fluff (sfw), fem!reader (bkg asks u to be his gf)

part 1 part 2

katsuki hears you giggling from inside your room as you make your way to the door. he sighs, though it's mostly in relief. even though you were being annoying and teasing him, he hasn't made you laugh in so damn long.

the doorknob twists and the door creaks open slowly. "who goes there!"

"your ice cream is already melting, but i'll blow it up in your face if you don't open the damn door."

"PLEASE DON'T DO THAT!"

katsuki lets you snatch the grocery bags from him and watches in satisfaction as you realise that he didn't just come with two tubs of ice cream, but also several bags of your favourite potato chips.

"katsuki," you cried dramatically. "you didn't have to!"

"you always sulk when i go to the damn store without buying you those damn chips," he says but crosses his arms smugly, walking past you to sit on your bed. "you better ration that shit, though. m'not buyin' you more chips this week."

"what? why?" you demanded, face contorting as your smile turned into a frown. katsuki's too amused by your sudden moodswing to be annoyed. cute.

"s'not healthy. too much salt."

"i ate takeout everyday for dinner last week and it wasn't healthy either."

this gets katsuki annoyed. he glares at you. "you're the one who asked me for space. don't go complainin' 'bout food now."

"it's your fault that i needed space!"

"you said i didn't do anything! what the fuck am i catching strays for?"

"whatever," you grumbled, sitting next to katsuki with two tubs of ice cream and a spoon in each hand. "chocolate chip cookie dough or ooey gooey cookie."

"you wanted chocolate chip."

"but do you want ooey gooey cookie?"

"s'fine."

"'kay."

you hand him the tub of ice cream and you both rip open the lids.

"so," you shove a spoonful of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream into your mouth. you bite down on the ice cream, and you catch katsuki wincing beside you. you ignore him, scooping another spoonful of ice cream but offering it to katsuki instead. "what'd you want to tell me?"

katsuki's silent. he scoops a spoonful of his ooey gooey cookie and finally meets your gaze as he offers you his spoon.

you could make katsuki's life easy and take the spoon from him yourself, but where's the fun in that? so you part your mouth and say "ahh".

katsuki rolls his eyes at you but brings the spoon up to your mouth and feeds you the ice cream.

"it is ooey gooey," you murmur softly. you bring the spoon up to katsuki's mouth and he glares at you before reluctantly opening his mouth.

"it has chocolate chips," he deadpans.

"don't avoid my question," you nudged your shoulder against his. you don't pull away, and katsuki lets you lean your shoulder against his. "you sounded stressed when you texted me."

"i was not stressed."

"really?"

"fine," katsuki sighed. you feel him lean down to rest his chin on top of your head. "maybe i was a little stressed."

you hum. "what was bothering you?"

katsuki closes his eyes and tilts his face downwards ever so slightly to kiss your hair. "i missed you," he admits quietly.

"i know," you whisper. "i'm sorry. i missed you too."

"why'd you ask for space?"

"i wanted more than what we already had," you said sadly. "i know you weren't using me, but it felt like i wanted you in ways you didn't want me back."

katsuki pulls back to look at you. "how do you want me?"

"in like a for-the-rest-of-my-life way."

katsuki smiles.

"i'd be more than happy to indulge you in that, darling."

katsuki presses a soft kiss to your lips.

"m'sorry for not asking this earlier, but would you be my girlfriend?"

i personally do not recommend the fwb-to-lovers route. that shit messyyyyy. also sorry i like ice cream and potato chips 😋 and i love biting my ice cream HEHE

taglist (thank you for your support!!): @anicaaa67 @maddietries @nemisimp @an-na-bella @valeriyaaak @buggie07 @v3n7s @deimosjay @iguanahykhv @zaiban2989 @girls-overflower @notmeduhh @dreamcastgirl99 @yoyolovesdaiki @busdriver-move-that-ass @atashiboba @kathsuhki @armeenix @channnee @antiwhores @sukunasbottomlefteyeball @kenqki @vikizzy

[leonstoenailunderhisbed]

Femme Fatale

Summary: Leon is a cop that got transferred to a new city in order to investigate the spike in murder cases. However, this isn’t an ordinary murder case. It is a serial killer murdering men.

Warning: mentions of blood, violence, death. !serial!killer reader x !cop Leon. Reader is 21+ (don’t drink under the legal age). Reader is female (hence the title lol)

Word count: 4,483

A/N: HELLOOOOO I feel like it’s been a hot minute since I wrote anything. I’ve been seeing a lot of short smut stories lately and I just wanted to bring something different to the table lol!!! Another murder fanfic with no smut (sorry smut lovers, but if you want a part two, I’ll write one!)

“You’ll wish you never met her at all, you’ll wish you never met her at all,” - Maneater, Nelly Fortudo

Nobody knows the true definition of being a femme fatale. It goes beyond aesthetic, but you use that for your own advantage. Seems like society does play a useful role for your adventures.

They are adventures to you, but the police like to call them "ongoing murders," whatever that meant. So, what if you killed a guy at a bar, he was being sleazy and wouldn't take no for an answer, so you acted out in self-defense. The cops believed you because why would they go against a woman who simply defended themselves? That'd tarnish their name and reputation.

So, you got away with your first murder. Easy as pie.

The memory was still fresh in your mind. You were out, hanging at a bar as you drank your savings away. Some horrible event happened prior to the night and what better way to cheer you up than a couple of drinks.

Of course, a man ogled you from the other side of the bar. Practically undressing you and fucking you in his sick and perverted mind. He was at least twice your age, what a psycho.

He had approached you, offered to buy you a drink to which you declined. Claiming you had too much to drink and had work in the morning the next day. You thought it ended at that as you made your exit, only to have life play an incredible joke at you. It wasn't incredible to you, but maybe to the universe it was.

The man had followed you and pulled into a sketchy and dark alleyway, attempting to drug you by attacking you from behind and stuffing a drugged piece of cloth against your mouth right under your nostrils. But it didn't go great for him, he's a total idiot that seemed to have no idea what he was doing. What a damn rookie.

You jabbed your elbow into his gut from behind, the man momentarily paralyzed which allowed you to swing your bag at his face. He stumbled backwards and fell. But that wasn't enough for you, was it?

No, it was not. It never is.

What is a woman if she can't bring revenge to her own self? And so, you watched as the man fell back against the concrete floor, cursing silently that he didn't hit his head hard enough. No worries, nothing a little help couldn't do, right?

You swore you weren't a violent person but as you straddled the man and beat the shit out of him, you felt nothing but pure bliss. A smile plastered on your face like a permanent reminder to the man that women aren't as easy as he thought they were. Oh, how naive men can be.

Blood covered your knuckles, his face so fucked up and bruised that it would be nearly impossible to recognize him. Until you spotted his driver's silence on the floor and stole it. This fucker needed to disappear and what better way than to do it yourself. You needed no help, you were independent. To hell with the patriarchy!

He was a heavy man, but you managed. You strangled him with the straps of your bag, watching as his face turned purple from the lack of oxygen. His eyes nearly bulging out of his sockets as he gasped and tried to pry your hands away. Disgusting, you thought.

The second he died; you didn't move. You needed to make sure he was gone for good and when he was, you weren't stupid enough to leave him there, oh god no.

You burnt him.

His body was tossed in one of those trashcans where teenagers come and lit fires while they committed underage drinking, for once you were happy those teenagers were of help.

And that was the first time you committed murder, and certainly not your last.

-

News reported the numerous cases of dead and missing men, you cried fake tears and showed fake empathy for the families of the victims but deep down you didn't care. They were all bad in your mind, letting their sons and brothers terrorize and claim what wasn't theirs in the first place.

Yeah, you became a mysterious symbol for female murderers. Nobody knew who this sudden serial killer was, much less what gender. But it gave hope to the women of the town, the ones stuck in a toxic relationship, the ones being forced to act like a mother rather than a daughter--you gave each one hope.

Right after the murders were set, the dead men would get exposed to the media. One of your victims had illegal pictures in his hard drive and you had no regret in releasing them to the media. As far as you were concerned, they could all rot in hell.

Your killings continued to pile up, each one different than the other to throw the police off tracks and make them start their investigation all over again. Gosh not only were they lazy but also stupid.

Not until that tall and blonde new cop showed in town. He was new but he seemed like a capable cop. You should've felt scared or threatened at the new addition to the station, but you didn't. You only felt amused that they had to bring outside help all because they couldn't figure out that you were the serial killer.

-

"You shouldn't be drinking during the day," a voice rang out from behind you as you sat on the bar stool, drinking away. You turned your head over your shoulder to find the new cop standing behind you. His blue uniform hugging his muscles tightly, his blonde hair reaching just below his ears and his blue eyes staring at you intently.

"It's not heathy," he added as he walked to stand next to your sitting form, to which you raised a single brow and turned your head back forward and took a sip of your drink, "Good morning to you too, Officer."

"Kennedy," he said, extending his hand out for you to shake, "But you can call me Leon if that's more comfortable for you."

You took his hand, shaking it firmly as you noted how strong he seemed to be, "I don't think anyone feels comfortable in the presence of a cop but sure," you said as you gave him a tight lipped smile.

"Can't argue with that," he replied as he took his hand away and watched you drink. There was a silence that overtook the two of you right before he spoke, he seemed rather hesitant.

"What do you know about the murders?" he asked cautiously, eyes narrowing as he stared at you, watching for any signs of... suspicion, perhaps?

"You mean the ones about the guys being found dead in a ditch?" you asked sarcastically, a half smirk reaching your lips, "Heard too much about them lately. It's all everyone seems to be thinking about these days..."

"Well, it makes sense. This killer seems to be targeting men and then exposing them for their... disturbing habits... you don't happen to know about the town's vigilante, would you?" he asked, propping his arm on the countertop of the bar and turned to face you.

You turned your head to look at him, feigning innocence at his question, "No, officer, I haven't learned anything about the serial killer. Everyone's been busy being on their best behavior..." you glanced down at his uniform, admittedly checking him out before you looked back at his face, "And I suggest you do too, have a nice day."

The would be the last time you saw the cop for the time being. You knew he was going to be tailing you from that moment, so you had to be strategic. Maybe you'd seduce your way out of jail but at the same time, isn't a little game of cat and mouse fun?

-

It hasn't been going well for Leon. As soon as he was transferred from his previous station, he's been overworked with the investigation. Sure, he wasn't a real detective, but he was still a cop recommended by a popular chief. In his email he had stated that Leon was "perceptive" and "had an intelligence beyond human comprehension."

Leon didn't know why the chief was so insistent in getting him out of that station and to a new city, but rumor has it that it was because the chief didn't want anyone to discover the affair he was having. He knew Leon would've been the first one to figure it out.

And it worked, because now Leon was sitting in an office, trying his damnest to think about all the murders. Trying to find a common denominator between all of them.

"You look like you haven't slept in days. Reminds me of my wife when we had our first child," a police officer, by the name of Robert, entered the room with two cups of coffee. Robert was his assigned partner, the seasoned detective sent to teach him the ropes around the new station. But Leon didn't need training, he was already good at his job, and he didn't need a nanny.

He offered Leon a cup of coffee, leaning back against the edge of the desk behind him as he stared at the corkboard with evidence and pictures of the murders, strings going left and right as he linked each crime scene to another, "Yeah, well, I don't have either so I'm sure I'll be fine," Leon responded as he took the coffee and sipped it.

"You're really trying to solve this? You know we've been at a dead end for days, right? Half of these will turn cold and get stored down in the archives..." Robert muttered as he glanced at Leon, to which Leon simply nodded.

"Yep, that's exactly what I'm going to do," Leon replied, as if stating the obvious, "Isn't it suspicious how all of these murders are so... different? Too different?"

Robert could only stare at Leon with confusion, "What the hell are you--No, I don't find it suspicious. I actually think we just have multiple murderers."

"You think about 20 people in this town are murderers?" Leon retorted as he raised an eyebrow at Robert.

Robert sighed exasperatedly, "Okay, maybe not, but how are you even sure this is one person?"

"Because the perpetrator has been too careful. See this?" Leon took a picture from the corkboard, a piece of evidence from the crime scene, "None of the weapons have been found. But we know that they were used. There's a slit in this man's stomach, caused by a knife... don't you see? This serial killer purposefully takes the weapon and doesn't leave it behind because they know we can track their fingerprints and it's a game over for them."

Robert was actually a bit impressed but then he scoffed, "Leon, that seems like a stretch. What if the killer doesn't even use weapons? I mean, what if-what if-fuck. I hate when you make sense..." he muttered, which prompted Leon to smirk just a bit.

"I can feel that we are slowly getting closer to solving this. We just need to think like the killer..." Leon muttered right before the lightbulb above his head lit up, "And what better way than to act the part, huh?"

Robert looked at him confused with furrowed brows, watching as Leon took his jacket and started to make his way out, "Where are you going?"

"The only place where guys roam like fish--the club," he said before he stepped out of the room and started to walk out of the station towards his car. Robert could only sigh, wishing he was young enough to catch up to Leon's speed.

-

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you muttered as you paced around your room. Ever since that new cop came into town, it's been hard for you to continue your killings. You're almost sure he's waiting to catch you at any moment and arrest you.

It's been a couple of days since his arrival, but he's been patrolling the places you'd usually go to catch your victim, the bar, the club, hell, even the park!

He was too good at his job and it both pissed you off and stressed you out.

"Fuck!" you yelled in frustration, for the past half year, you've been killing with no problem, but now that going to stop soon enough. You couldn't let the new cop win, this was no longer a game.

This was war.

You quickly dashed to your room, hopping on your bed and getting your laptop. You usually weren't the type of girl to stalk people but screw it, this Leon Kennedy needed to get out.

But to your dismay...he was a decent dude.

Nothing too important stood out. His Facebook was boring, the only pictures you could find were posted by his family. His Instagram was dry, he'd post without captioning his pictures. Who does that?!

You learned he graduated high school at 18, and then graduated from the academy early due to academic excellence and immediately got sent to a police station to work at only 21 years old. He didn't seem to have many friends, but then again, online life was nothing like real life.

But not all was lost. You learned he was 27 years old and single. You could use this to your advantage, to become the femme fatale everyone had been whispering about around the streets.

-

Leon went undercover to the town's most popular night club, he dressed casually and out of his uniform. The last thing he needed was for him to cause more panic than the serial killer had instilled.

"One beer, please," Leon ordered at the bar. The music blasting off from the speakers on the walls, lights down low as lasers and light sticks illuminated the place. People danced around, nothing too suspicious except for the disgusting display of affection by some couples.

"Here," the bartender said as he slid Leon his beer. He wasn't usually a beer guy, but he assumed he need a light drink to push through. vodka and tequila didn't seem fitting for the job he was currently trying to do.

He walked around the club, his eyes glancing everywhere for any suspicious activity. He had found none.

Well not nothing, his eyes landed back on the bar, walking towards it to get another drink and give up for the night. Until he saw you. You were dressed in a tight little dress, your hair and makeup done but he wasn't paying attention to any of that. He paid attention to the way you were talking with a guy.

Now, the idea was still a bit weak in his mind. He had no proof that the serial killer could be a woman but something in him was setting off his buttons of suspicion. Why hasn’t he thought about it before?

Maybe because he had no real reason too. He didn’t mean it, but he thought most murders were caused by men. But he just couldn’t shake off something about you. So he lingered a bit, deciding to forget about the beer and just focus on you.

It didn’t surprise him that you were flirting back with the guy that has been talking to you, he was handsome but not as handsome as himself (his own words). He stood far, making sure not to blow his cover. He hasn’t found anything remotely suspicious so it wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on you, right?

That’s when he followed you out the club, the man walking next to you and guiding you to his car. That was weird but he’s heard of one night stands. Personally, Leon wasn’t that type of guy.

The streets were crowded at night and he lost sight of you for a quick second, until he spotted your figure getting pulled into an alley. Suspicious enough? Very much so. He didn’t hesitate to take out his gun from the waistband of his pants, getting ready to defend if anything were to happen to you. He was a cop and a gentleman after all.

But as he approached the isolated alley in which he last saw you, it was unexpectedly dark and quiet. Leon’s steps were slow and quiet as he walked further into the alley, his gun aimed and pointed in front of him in case something decided to jump at him. Luckily nothing did.

Although he did hear a sound. What was that? He wondered as he stepped deeper into the alleyway. His shoes rubbing off the cracked concrete floor until he was met with a horrific sight.

The man that had tried to take you to his car was found dead on the floor. He immediately dialed emergencies and went over to the man, it all happened to quickly and his eyes darted around to try and find you.

-

You knew you were being followed that night at the club and your suspicion was correct when you saw the familiar sight of a certain blonde man on the reflection of a car’s window. He’s astute, too astute for his own good.

Much to his dismay, the man you killed died on the way to the hospital so he couldn’t give out a statement of who had attacked him or what happened. But Leon wasn’t going to rest until he found you, was he?

You debated flying to another country, turning your back and leaving for good. But something stopped you from doing so. What about your job? What about your family and friends? They wouldn’t believe you if you went abroad in your own for no specific reason.

Curse you Leon Kennedy.

-

After that night, he’s been practically living in the station. Evidence piling up but he had no solid evidence that it was you who committed the crimes. His word alone couldn’t be trusted for two reasons; he didn’t even you actively attack the man and his opinion as a cap was already biased! He was in a pickle. It didn’t help that the higher ups pressured him into speeding up the case, they wanted the culprit to get caught already as all the men in the town cowered in their homes. Scared that they would be next.

Not so fun when the shoe’s on the other foot, huh?

He knew he shouldn’t but he did anyway. His stalked for your information, sneaking into the town’s city hall to retrieve your files like birth certificates and such. Turns out the police didn’t hold these documents, the city hall did.

He had found your address and immediately began to drive to your place. He needed answers and he didn’t care that he was breaking police code. He knew it was you, you had to be involved in this somehow.

As he approached your place, he wanted to pound at the door like they did in FBI movies but he knew he had to act civil since he had no real evidence to base his suspicions on.

Once the door was opened, he noticed your startled expression, almost catching off guard by his sudden visit. And he wasn’t even wearing his uniform, “Officer,” you said as you stood by your door, “To what do I owe the pleasure…?”

“I saw you,” he said, jumping straight to the point, “The night that man died—you were with him. I saw you walk out of the club with him and then somehow, he died.”

His eyes were piercing daggers at you, almost as if he wanted to peek into your mind and read your thoughts.

But you only stared at him silently, Leon was too smart, “I didn’t feel good and he called me an Uber,” you lied casually.

“You didn’t feel good, huh?” He huffed in amusement, glancing away for a second before he looked back down at you.

“Yeah, I got drunk and started to feel sick. He did me a favor,” you continued with your lie, knowing damn well you weren’t sick at all.

He hummed and nodded his head once, nibbling his bottom lip as he stared at you with an analytical gaze.

“Take care, then,” he muttered, taking a step backwards, keeping his eyes on you. As if telling you that he was on to you. He was going to uncover your secret.

-

When he left, you felt as if the world almost stopped. Your heart was hammering inside your chest, your breathing labored as you thought about what the hell just happened. Damn you, Leon. You really know how to use that brain, huh?

You couldn’t just stop the murders, that would only give Leon more proof that you were the serial killer he was after. No, you needed to keep killing to stray him away. You did it with the other cops, couldn’t be that hard.

-

You’ve killed, but you killed less men. The police had advised individuals to remain in their homes after curfew. That it was dangerous with a serial killer still on the loose.

It was all so stupid. You were serving revenge to all the women who fell into the traps of men and here comes a man to stop you.

That’s when it hit you, what if you tried to kill the officer himself?

No, you couldn’t. That would only sell you out.

But what you could do was send him a message.

On your next victim, you planned it differently. Instead of the clean and simple murder way you usually go with, you decided that you’d be messy. Make him confused, make him believe that the serial killer was a scared person. That would shove him away from you for a while, right?

When Leon arrived at the crime scene, he saw the blood splattered around the brick walls of behind a convenience store. The body dumped inside the dumpster, his body slashed with knife wounds and face beaten up. You tried to make it seem like a man committed the murder, men were messy, right?

Unfortunately for you, in the midst of your perfectly messy murder, Leon had found CCTV footage of the whole thing with your face showing. This was solid evidence to finally get you.

-

And that’s how you ended up at the station’s interrogation room with your wrists cuffed to the table. The room was cold, grey, and bright. Almost looking like a hospital. Modern architecture kills artists.

“So,” Leon started as he sat across from you, files laying flat on the table, “Care to explain?”

“Explain what?” You feigned obliviousness.

“The murders, the blood—everything?”

You held back an eye roll, he had caught you and there was no point in lying, was there?

With a defeated sigh, you leaned back against the chair you were seated on, “I was… only trying to help,” you began quietly.

“Help? By committing murders and bringing terror to the town?”

“You don’t understand,” you immediately responded, a bit frustrated that he didn’t get to understand, “I killed those men because they’re nothing but a waste of space,” you spat bitterly.

He sat there in silence, brows pinching together as he crossed his arms over his chest, letting you continue. There’s no going back when the cat’s been out of the bag.

With a sharp inhale, you continued, “Those men, they do bad things. Prey on women and take advantage of them… I was tired, so, so, so tired, officer…” you whispered.

“When I realized that a man had tried to drug me and take advantage of me, something in me snapped and I knew then that I couldn’t sit back and let him do whatever he wanted to me. I refused to become an object for horny men that can’t keep their dick inside their pants,” you muttered, leaning forward as your eyes narrowed at Leon. You weren’t blaming Leon but he understood your motives.

“So you took it upon yourself to get rid of these guys…” he muttered, his head slowly nodding as he let the information rest in his mind.”

“I did,” you admitted, “I had to.”

“You had to?” He repeated as his eyebrows raised.

“Yes—you don’t understand what it’s like to fear for your life just because of your gender. I didn’t choose to be born this way so why should I let people treat me like shit?”

“I understand where you’re coming from but hurting other people will only hurt you,” he said quietly as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, “How much longer did you think you could’ve kept going, hm? You’re a smart girl, Y/n, you deserve better than jail.”

His words were sincere and for a moment, your walls came down. He was right, in a way, how much longer could you have kept killing people before it caught up to you? Before you lost your mind? You didn’t even think about that.

Silence took over and he sighed softly, looking you over with pity. You were young, smart, and had a bright future ahead of you. He almost felt bad for wanting to catch you this whole time. Almost.

“What’s done is done,” he finally said, breaking the silence, “You committed unforgivable crimes…” his voice trailed off.

“But you had a good reason for them,” he muttered and pulled the files back towards him, “You were defending yourself and your friends during these occasions. It was self defense,” he said firmly, as if he was changing your story.

Wait, what?

The files in his hands held the pictures of you violently killing people, but never once did he actually open that file. Instead, he made up a story for you…

“Why?” You whispered, staring deeply into his eyes. He shrugged and stood up, “Everyone’s been on their best behavior, right?”

-

It’s been a few days since you’ve been questioned. Leon had gotten rid of the evidence and instead made up new ones that led to the story he fabricated for you.

It was all surreal.

Never once in your life, you would’ve thought a cop would help you. You felt shocked, baffled, and confused. But a part of you was grateful. You should’ve known the court system of this town was just as careless as the police station before Leon came because all they did was give you a slap on the wrist and let you go. Once again, not wishing to have their reputation tarnished.

You’ve stopped your killings, for obvious reasons. But, you were glad you’ve lived your five seconds of fame. Even if your identity was never exposed to the public.

You owed it all to Leon. Too bad he had left town. He returned to his city, claiming he had some unfinished business (most like with his chief for throwing him into this town so unexpectedly).

Part of you missed him, it was fun while it lasted, right?

[angel-of-the-moons]

Mr and Mrs Knight

Steven Grant (Marc Spector + Jake Lockley) x Curvy!Fem!Reader

TW/CW: NSFW, body dysmorphia, smut, suit kink, glove kink, fingering, PiV sex, creampie, squirting, misuse of The Suit™ (and truncheons), cosplay, established relationship, fluff

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: I am unashamed to admit that suits are fucking hot and the shit they do to me is what I imagine straight men feel when they see a VS model in lingerie. And Steven is hot. So is Marc. And Jake and Oscar in general you get the rest. Imagine the Mrs Knight suit looks something like this. (Also featuring the headcanons by @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction for Jake's craftiness!)

Taglist: @mundivagantsoul @belle-oftheball34 @steven-grants-world @denile-xo @whatevenisagrapefruit @hagridnmegamind @sapphire-and-ruby

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It had been a banger of a night. A fun Halloween bash at the museum, amazing costumes, great food. Donna even seemed to be in a decent mood. But of course that woman could have been faking it.

You and Steven decided to go with matching costumes. In a gross abuse of Steven, Marc, and Jake's status as Moon Knight, you'd convinced him to use his "Mr Knight" suit as his costume.

Jake helped you make yours to match. Finding the majority was easy enough at thrift stores (despite Marc's insistence that you should buy a new one), the mask was what was the pain.

That's where Jake's expertise came in. Sure his main skill was in knitting, but that didn't mean the man wasn't nuanced in other ways to make clothes. You couldn't count how many times Jake would stitch up the seams of your favorite jacket that you just refused to throw away, or how many times he'd hit you with that smug smile when you blubbered about how awesome he was for giving extra life into your jacket so you could wear it juuuust a bit longer.

Your mask turned out to be almost a perfect replica of his, complete with glowing lenses to match Steven.

You were nervous when you got dressed, looking in your floor-length mirror at your reflection.

Your hair was pinned back neatly to allow you to pull the mask on or off (because unlike Steven's, which was magically suited--pun intended--to be comfortable) without much problem, and you would still appear "flawless" as Steven put it.

But right now, you were having second thoughts. You weren't sure you liked how the skirt fit you. Or the blazer.

The waistband of the skirt squeezed your waist and the rolls of your tummy, the creases in the fabric seemingly emphasizing every imperfection you saw in yourself.

Your transparent white stockings were not helpful either, the bands squished the fat of your thighs in a way that made them look like muffins, even moreso than your tummy. They kept rolling down so much you had to buy garters to wear beneath your skirt just so they'd stay up...

You frowned at your reflection as the skirt rode up your legs, showing off the cute lace trim of the stockings and your squishy thighs; honestly if you weren't careful, or you bent over the skirt would bare your ass to the whole party.

You were tempted to go and grab that last minute shitty vampire costume you had stashed away, when Steven walked in, already dressed immaculately in that gorgeous white suit of his.

He adjusted the tie, not looking at you as he does so.

"Hey, luv, I'm fairly ready. I can help you with your makeup now, if..." His eyebrows shoot up and his mouth feels suddenly very dry at the sight of you all dressed up.

His tongue darts out to swipe at his bottom lip, moistening it as he clears his throat.

"You look good."

"Oh.... Thanks." You mumble shyly, trying to pull the edges of the blazer down to cover the rolls poking out of your skirt a bit more.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong, beautiful?" He said softly, moving up to you.

"I... I look like a marshmallow." You sigh hesitantly, your tone full of self-deprecation.

"Hey, now." Steven smiled sweetly, wrapping his arms around your waist as you tucked your face into his lapel.

"You're the most gorgeous marshmallow on the planet if that's the case." He told you, kissing the top of your head.

He felt something press down on him, and he looked up at the mirror, getting a full view of your back, but he saw Marc's face staring back at him with a cringed expression.

(Dude, that was the shittiest compliment ever. What woman wants to hear her being compared to a marshmallow??) He hissed.

Steven was about to retort, before you started bubbling out on laughter at how silly his compliment was.

"That was so corny." You snicker.

Steven gave a smug smirk at Marc before looking down at you with a soft, lovesick smile.

"Yeah, well, you love my sense of humor, eh?" He winked.

"Yeah... I guess I do." You smile back.

"Now, then! Your makeup. Let's sit you down so I can work on it for you!"

Whenever you had your doubts about your appearance, Steven, Marc, or Jake would pipe in and alleviate your worries. Sometimes all three at once, though rapid switching would often cause problems for them (like migraines).

You kept your eyes closed as Steven carefully applied your highlighter to your cheekbones, the brush tickling your skin, his shaky breaths ghosting over your face.

He would mumble some curses when he messed up, but would correct his mistake.

When you had asked him where on earth he learned to contour and highlight he shyly admitted he watched half a dozen tutorials on YouTube to get it perfect for you.

You felt the coldness of the liquid eyeliner as he painted on the wings with the white liner, the silver and gold glitter further adding to your look.

"'Kay luv, open your eyes so I can apply your mascara." He murmured, looking down in your makeup kit for the said cosmetic.

Once he did, he pulled out the black tube and made sure there was no excess before he carefully combed the white creamy substance on your eyelashes, lightening them up to enhance the face he'd helped apply for you.

Once he was finished with both eyes, he leaned back and allowed you to blink, smiling that puppy dog smile of his in satisfaction at his handiwork before placing the mascara tube back in the kit.

He lifted his hand and shook the bottle of setting spray so you wouldn't accidentally sweat it off or wipe it off with something during the night (or god forbid it rub off on the inside of your mask).

"Close em again for me."

You couldn't help but smile at his level of gentleness and politeness.

You restrained from physically recoiling as the cold setting spray hit your skin and quickly dried.

"Now, do you want to put on lipstick now or when we get to the party?" He asked as he watched your sickeningly gorgeous lashes flutter open. All the white, silver, and hints of gold on your face enhanced your eyes and their color, the very depths of them stealing his breath away.

"We can do it now. I have liquid matte and regular lipstick." You reply, smiling once again.

"Which would you prefer?" Steven asked you.

"Whichever you think would look best."

He sucked in a breath that his lungs were suddenly starving for, and grabbed the liquid tube.

His hand gently cupped your chin as he brushed the satiny lipstick onto your lips, carefully lining them so it wasn't too much. He'd even dipped his finger in your cosmetic glitter and applied a very gentle amount.

"Gorgeous." He breathed.

"Aww..." You giggle, thankful for the glitter and makeup that hid your blush at his praise.

"Now then... Let's go, shall we?" He said, taking your hand to help you stand and slip in your white heels.

As the two of you left, Steven could hear Jake in the back of their headspace.

(Que hermosa... Be careful, hermanito. If she bends over, I just might take over for the rest of the night and have that ass for myself.)

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Mr and Mrs Knight. That's what you two went as for the party. You two even won the prize for best couples costume!

Sure it was just a gift card to some restaurant, but it was exhilarating to hear how people adored your matching outfits.

And you couldn't help but notice all night that Steven simply couldn't keep his hands off of you.

He would get like that sometimes; working himself up like that, but trying to be subtle. You knew it was only a matter of time before an awkward boner would be the cause for the two of you to leave early, so you excused yourself to the restroom under an excuse to check and see if your makeup needed retouching or if you could go the rest of the night without your mask.

But you got a little nervous when two women went into the lavatory after you, and you felt trapped within your stall. You simply couldn't stand the glances from other women you were getting all night. You were afraid these two women who were clucking at each other like hens were amongst the ones judging you.

And your fears were confirmed.

"I can't believe that such a handsome guy would pick a blimp to be his girlfriend." One of them scoffed as she applied a fresh layer of brick red lipstick. As if she didn't have enough on already.

You felt your heart sink further inside of you as the other joined in.

"I know, right? It's gotta be her tits, only thing I can imagine. Maybe her ass, too." The other laughed as she touched up the false blood on the corners of her mouth.

"Either that or she gives good enough head that he can overlook the fact that if she ever got on top she could crush him." The first one snickered.

Your hands knotted in the mask you held in your hands, threatening to tear the stitches Jake so lovingly sewed in for you to wear tonight. You bit the inside of your cheek harshly as the two gossiped further.

"Ugh, and the sad thing is, he's cute, for a bookworm who won't shut up." The second sighed.

"Ugh, I know... I can look past the blabbering if I can see what he's packing."

"Right? I wonder if he's as good with his mouth as he is with his stupid history facts." The first giggled.

You gritted your teeth. You couldn't take much more, you knew that. Insulting you, you could take and bottle up to deal with later, probably in the heat and privacy of your shower.

But talking about Steven like he's some kind of... sex toy? No. Hell no. If you were anything, you were insanely protective over your boys. Even bordering on possessive at times (of course the same was true for the boys about you).

You were done.

You slammed the stall door open and sort of enjoyed how startled they seemed when they saw you, their jaws dropping when it hit them that you heard everything.

You hurriedly wash your hands and slip your gloves back on, gripping your mask in your hand tight as you spare them a backwards glance before leaving the lavatory to find Steven.

You felt sick to your stomach and you wanted to go home...

When you found him, his brows knitted upwards in concern at how tight-lipped and tense you were when you gripped his sleeve tight.

"Ey luv, what's wrong?" He murmured to you, leading you away from the crowd.

"I... I just want to go home." You say, the words those women said about your body weighing down on you, and the things they said about Steven burning hot in your gut. You weren't sure what to feel with this cocktail of emotions.

"Hey hey, okay we can leave." He says, kissing you on the forehead.

"Let's go."

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The walk back to your flat was... Difficult. You could barely hold yourself together, suddenly hyper-aware of every roll and stretch mark on your body, even the slight double chin you had when you moved your head a certain way.

It wasn't until you were in the lift of your building that you finally broke down, your reflection staring back at you in the walls of the tiny space, crushing down on you with every imperfection you saw.

You couldn't keep in the bubbling sobs, or the fat tears that rolled down your cheeks and ruined the makeup Steven worked so hard to put on you.

He cradled you against him and cooed to you, saying sweet nothings and whispering nothing but praise for your looks, rubbing your back and kissing your hair.

In the various angles of the reflections, and the oppressive feeling weighing down on Steven... He could see and feel Marc and Jake.

Both looked pissed. Marc almost looked violent.

(If anybody talks like that about our muñeca again...) Jake trailed off.

(Oh trust me, I'll do the honors.) Marc growled.

The walk back into your flat felt horrid. You didn't just cry, you ugly-cried. You ruined your makeup, your hair fell out of the pins, and your skirt rode up more with every rushed step you took to hurry up and get in to get into some baggy clothes that didn't showcase your body.

You didn't feel cute or sexy anymore, you felt... ugly.

And Steven didn't like that one bit. Marc and Jake retreated, knowing that their anger at your injured self-opinion wouldn't help. This kind of situation was a Steven situation. He knew best how to be the sweetest person on the planet with you.

But right now he wasn't feeling particularly sweet. Sure, you were upset. But he couldn't help but get a good look at you as you walked ahead of him, the skirt riding up so much that he could just barely see the black and blue panties you wore beneath, your cheeks peeking out from the edges of the fabric, the garter straps clinging desperately to your stockings in effort to keep them up your gloriously plush thighs to keep them up.

He felt hot beneath the collar, his trousers getting uncomfortably tight as blood flowed straight to his cock.

The moment the door closed behind you, your hands, trembling and rushed, went to unbutton the blazer to get it off of you quicker, sniffles and tiny sobs sneaking out of you in the process.

However, your actions were halted when Steven placed his hands gently on your shoulders from behind, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles through the fabric of your blazer, trying to soothe you.

"Love. You're gorgeous. Beautiful." He breathed, resting his forehead against the back of your head, inhaling the lingering scent of your shampoo.

"Steven, I'm... I'm not." You sniffle. "I'm fat, I can barely squeeze into a pair of jeans, I can't even shop at normal clothing stores for women. I get looks when I wear anything tight, and--and the things I hear people say about me--"

Your voice is broken off when you hiccup, feeling another sobbing fit try to get out of you.

"You don't understand what I'm sayin', luv." Steven smiled into your hair, ever patient.

"You're the prettiest girl in the world to us. You don't need a flat belly, or toned thighs to be pretty. You're funny, you're warm, and you're soft."

You made a shocked squeak when his hands snake around you, his gloved hands gripping at your belly and squeezing the plushness there through your clothes.

Your denial died in your throat when Steven rolled his hips into you, his hard cock throbbing as he rutted into the curve of your ass.

"You wouldn't be able to get to me like this if I didn't find you the most gorgeous woman on the planet. You wouldn't get Jake to say the filthy things he tells you in bed. You wouldn't have Marc snuggling you and resting his head in your lap or on your belly..."

His breathing got heavier as he rocked his hips into you further, a bitten-back whimper dying as he swallowed hard.

"S-Steven--"

"You've been driving me insane all night. This skirt looks so good on you." He says hotly in your ear, his fingers rolling up the hem of your skirt to reveal your panties and garters, making you gasp again.

"Those stockings huggin' you so tight. Been thinking about how badly I want to have my head between your legs, tonight." He growled.

Before you could say anything else, his gloved hand went up to your mouth and he tapped your lips, begging for entrance. Powerless to resist him, you let him press his fingers into your mouth, your tongue wetting them effectively before he pulled them away, and slipped down into your panties

He dragged one of his fingers up your puffy lips, parting your folds before he turned his attention onto your clit.

"S-S-Steven--" You whimper when he starts to circle the little nub.

"Hush, now. Let me show you, eh?" Steven said, biting at your earlobe softly.

You couldn't fight it, you couldn't fight the warm nectar that gushed out from you at his words and affirmations. All your mind could focus on was how wonderfully his fingers toyed with your cunt, deftly rolling, pushing, and pinching your clit in every way he knew that brought you the best pleasure, the fastest.

Your mind practically went blank when he curled two fingers into your weeping hole, the leather around his digits making them thicker than they normally would be, and providing a luxurious texture to your clit as he massaged you with his palm. His mouth trailed down your neck, breath hot on your skin as he bit down and sucked.

It wasn't like when Jake did this to you, no. Every one of them had different methods, different touches...

And Steven was particularly good at balancing out the sweet and the hard, paying more attention to your own pleasure than his. Sometimes, he would get so lost in pleasuring you he'd cum in his pants without even being touched.

This time was no different... in no time at all, he had you cumming so hard you almost fell to the floor, your slick gushing out and soaking the glove.

He smiled sweetly into the skin of your neck as he eased you forward, so you could press your palms on one of his desks, thighs quivering as you recollected yourself.

You barely saw through your haze clearly enough to catch Steven licking his glove clean through the reflection in the mirror on the desktop, his eyes closing in satisfaction at your savory taste.

You half expected him to drop to his knees and eat you out, next, but he doesn't. He just stands there for a moment, staring at you with a lidded and loving gaze, curls falling forward over his forehead as they always do.

That's when your self-consciousness rears its ugly head, and you pinch your legs together, and try to wiggle away from his gaze, to retreat to the safety of the bathroom and escape from his heated staring.

But in a flash, Steven is on you again, his hands gripping at your hips and that's when you feel the hot, heavy weight of his leaking cock slap against the barely clothed flesh of your ass as he rolls your skirt up completely over your hips.

"Steven!" You squeak.

"Hey, now... 'M not done showing you yet." His voice croaks out, heavy and barely coherent as the silk fabric of your panties brushes the head of his dick.

He groans, giving one more roll of his hips against your ass, smearing more precum on the fabric and skin, there; before he gripped the base, lining his cock up to your weeping hole.

"Fuck, luv. So soft. So wet f'me." He said, voice strained from barely contained arousal.

You squirmed, still feeling inadequate despite Steven's words and assurances.

God, you wanted him. You wanted him so badly. But right now you just felt so... so...

Your thoughts cut themselves off when he reached behind him, and from beneath his coat pulled out one of his engraved truncheons.

Placing it in front of you and gripping it with his other hand, pulling you tight against him as he thrust sharply into you, sheathing himself in one whole go, the tip of his cock slamming upwards so suddenly you felt his tip smush your cervix before he eased back.

"B-baby--" You whine, despite yourself.

"Not runnin' away, luv." Steven grunted into your hair as he thrust into you, his hands gripping tightly on the truncheon, using the bar to squeeze against your belly and hold you against him while he fucked you raw.

You couldn't fight the snapping of his hips or his raw need for you, right now. You couldn't hold back the moans and whimpers he wrenched out of you with each punctuation of his hips.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck--" You hear him wheeze as his thrusts get more and more desperate.

There is a metallic clang as he tosses the truncheon to the floor in favor of gripping your thigh and lifting your leg so your knee was on the desktop.

You let Steven guide you so you're practically laying face down on the desk, his cock still spearing you open, pussy fluttering around him at the change in position.

You were taken by surprise when he grips your wrists next, ripping off his tie before slipping it over your hands, before tying them together at the curve of your back. Not tight enough to cut off circulation, but tight enough you couldn't squirm free.

He hesitated a moment. As nice as it would be to watch the soft flesh of your ass bounce and ripple while he fucked you... He didn't want to do it like this.

So, without further hesitation on his part, he gripped you, lifting you off your feet and rolling you so you were laying with your upper half on the desktop, pulling your legs up so your calves rested on his shoulders, all without dislodging from the warm tightness of your cunt.

You whimpered as he does this, and try to wriggle from his tie so you could cover your face, your running makeup and smeared lipstick.

Your pitiful, chubby face--

"Hey, hey..." His voice is soft and shaky as he leans in, cupping your cheek with one hand as your thighs squish against the both of you.

He caresses your soft cheek with a thumb and he smiles.

"Don't hide from me, sweetheart. You're gorgeous and I want to see you."

"Steven, I..." You whimper as your pussy clenches around his shaft, making it twitch inside of your tight, gummy walls.

His eyes rolled back with a groan.

"I'm not gonna stop until you see what I see." He grunts, dragging his cock out slowly until only the tip remains inside of you, the rest of your cunt squeezing desperately around nothing.

You're barely given a moment of respite before he snaps his hips into yours again, fucking you relentlessly and hitting your sweet spot over and over withe every arch of his hips.

Some of Marc's precision was bleeding into him as he aimed the tip of his cock like a weapon against your g-spot, pounding into you hard and fast, stoking the fire in your belly so hotly that you felt the embers scatter throughout your veins, every nerve in your body aflame in pleasure.

His left hand kneads the soft skin of your thigh, squishing and rolling the plush flesh beneath his gloved fingers before he slips his other hand between you, circling your clit mercilessly, making you shriek with every sharp thrust of his hips.

He loved how your body jiggled and bounced with every thrust; how your tits were bouncing so hard that they were spilling out of the top of your bra cups, your blazer falling completely open around you, now.

Despite still being fully clothed, you felt utterly naked beneath his gaze. Fresh tears burned in your eyes as he crammed his cock into you over and over again, his fingers working your second orgasm out of you faster and faster with every swipe of his fingers.

"It's okay, luv." Steven moaned, turning his head to plant a kiss on the inside of your knee, the leg he was squishing in his fingers.

"Cum for me, yeah? Show me how pretty you are." He pants, his thumb pressing hard into your clit.

That was all it took, the friction of his fingers, the thrusts of his hips, and each jab of his cock, plus his words? You were on cloud nine, brain fried and all sense gone as drool dribbled down your chin and you cum with a choked cry, babbling out his name over and over as your body clamps down, gushing around his cock, spraying out and soaking his hand and the front of his suit.

Steven, poor, loveable, goofy Steven could never hold out too long after you came, the squeezing and milking of your pussy was simply too much for him to bear.

Your eyes rolled back and you felt yourself spasm in an aftershock as you felt the hot ropes of his cum painting your walls a milky white, flooding your hungry cunt with everything he had to give you.

He drops your leg, wrapping them around his waist as he leans in and kisses you roughly, his tongue pushing past your lips to twine with yours and steal your recovered breaths.

"See... You're fucking beautiful. Wouldn't do this to us otherwise." He mumbles against your lips.

"Oh... God." You whimper.

Your mind ticks back into sanity and you realize the two of you are still clothed. Your outfit was of course mussed, but Steven was almost completely immaculate. The only thing he was missing of his suit was his tie, and the only sign of mess was the wet stain on his front, and his cock still sheathed inside of you.

"Hmm." He hummed softly, looking down at you with the softest gaze he could fix on you.

Steven gave you a sweet kiss to your forehead before he moved his mouth to the shell of your ear.

"And if you still don't believe me... Jake and Marc want to have a word with you."

[briskii]

Senior's Discount

a/n: ty to my boyfriend who demanded i credit him for the title <3

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word count: 1.6k

requests are open :3 first time writing something of this caliber, hope you enjoy sluts 💖‼️

warnings: size kink, degradation, nsfw, age gap (reader is like 20ish, Toji is mid 30's), dacryphilia, mentions of being recorded

synopsis: Toji rizzes up (afab!) reader cuz he's too fucking poor one night to buy something at the convenience store (aka Toji being a slut)

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He was a regular. There'd be nights where you worked alone and he'd come in, usually grumbling to himself as he shopped around. He never got much; usually just cheap onigiri and the occasional pack of cigarettes. Everytime you'd hand him his change or whatever it was that he was getting, it'd be the same venomously saccharine tone, with the same endearing petname.

"Thanks, dollface."

And he'd always flash that charming smile with a wink, stuffing his items in his pockets and turning a heel to walk out of the store. He always carried himself confidently; his presence demanding and his aura loud. It didn't intimidate you, however. It's not like the guy ever did anything to you.

"Ah, shit," he cursed under his breath. His eyes flicked from his wallet, to his onigiri, and finally down to your big, doe eyes.

"I, uh," he started. "I'm a bit short." The man chuckled quietly, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. Despite this, he still wore a charming grin. "Think y'can make an exception and just give me a discount?"

You laughed quietly, eying the man up and down out of the corner of your eye as you rang in his food.

He was huge.

You knew what he was referring to, but the irony of this buff-6-foot-something size man saying the phrase 'i'm short' was just too funny.

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes once again. "Well, how much of a discount would it be?" You ask, genuinely intending to let him off easy. He laughed dryly, and outstretched his hand to reveal an astounding 45 cents. Your face fell, and you shook your head. "I'm sorry sir, but this is a specialty onigiri. That's atleast 5 or 6 dollars..." The raven haired man scoffed and rolled his eyes. You figured he was used to abusing his pretty privilege, and he probably got pretty far with it sometimes.

He shoved the change back in his pocket, and sighed. You watched as his expression went from one of minor frustration, to one of mischief as he began to speak again.

"I'll make it worth your while." He cooed slyly, his long eyelashes fluttering against his face as his demeanor changed completely. Your face warmed up as your eyes widened, not expecting him to come off so strong. He had flirted with you before, but never like this. "I..."

"Come on, dollface," he continued, not sparing a second to let you think. "You won't have to lift a finger."

Sure, you weren't a virgin. Hell, you'd been with your fair share of men. But there was something so captivating about how brazen this regular was that you couldn't help the way your thighs clenched together at his intense stare. And of course he noticed.

He always noticed the way your eyes would light up when he would walk through the door, and how cutely your lips would form a pout when he teased you. He could always feel your eyes on his muscular back when he would browse the store, so he always made sure to take just a little longer than he normally would. The way you would unknowingly make goo-goo eyes at him was the reason he even frequented that specific store in the first place.

"Such a sweet little thing you are," He teased, cocking his head to the side as he leaned over, making himself tower over you intentionally. "I'm sure the noises that would come out of you would sound even sweeter, though."

"Wow," You turned your head away from him, chuckling genuinely. This guy was unbelievable. Sure, maybe you've checked him out a few dozen times. And sure, maybe you've thought about fucking him in the staff bathroom once or twice. But to have him be so unabashedly direct with you, it ignited a familliar fire within you.

"And I thought I was a whore," You laughed trying to match the man's energy. Although, it didn't roll off the tongue quite as sweetly as you wanted it to. It couldn't have; not with the way this man was looking at you.

In the blink of an eye, the customer was behind you somehow, gripping your neck with one hand as he pressed himself against you, grinding into your ass and grabbing your hip roughly with his other. "How did you-"

"Sweetheart," he cut you off, mumbling behind you as his chest pressed up against your back, his huge body forcing you against the counter. "I'm much older than you. You should treat me with respect." He mused, chuckling lowly as he licked your ear. You whined quietly as you pushed your hips into his, finding it difficult to think or even let alone respond when he was flooding your senses so intensely like that.

"You're too innocent to be using words like that." He chided teasingly, as his hand shifted down to the zipper on your pants. His words were ironic to hear, as the moans and whines coming from your mouth have been anything but innocent.

"I'm...mmm, fuck, 'm not innocent- ah!" You couldn't even finish your sentence before the hand on your throat was replaced by the man's mouth, sucking and biting to leave as many marks as possible. He smiled against your neck as you moaned louder than you had been already, feeling the curve of your ass push against his strained pants. He chuckled at your pathetic attempt to quip back and stood up straight, pulling you against his chest.

"Open." He demanded, as his left hand snaked up your shirt to twist and pull at your nipples. "Wh-" you started, before he shoved his index and middle finger down your throat without warning. You gagged, but quickly adjusted your breathing. Your pleading eyes met his predatory ones, wanting more.

"Good girl," He smiled, that same look of mischief from earlier glinting in his eyes once again."You'd let me fuck 'yer throat, wouldn't ya? Seems like you'd be real good at it." You whined loudly, nodding quickly. He pulled his fingers out of your mouth, and you moaned. "Please, 'wanna suck you off in the bathroom. Wanna feel you cum down my throat, sir." He groaned, cursing under his breath.

"Toji." The man simply stated. "You'll let that camera over there-" -he withdrew his hand from your shirt to point at the camera in front of you guys- "-know who I am, won't you, dollface?"

"Toji!" You moaned out immediately as he began grinding against you. He smiled at your willingness to obey him, a complete stranger. "Please." You mewled, wanting him to help soothe the ache in your core. "Just wanna go to the bathroom. I want to feel you."

Toji had hit the jackpot. You were a young, pretty thing and he already had you wrapped around his finger; at the very least, you were 10 to 12 years his junior. "Older men like me ruin eager girls like you," he growled, completely ignoring your bathroom comment. He knew he'd just come back once you had closed down the store to steal the CCTV footage, and if anyone decided to wander in, well.

They'd be getting a show.

"Need to hear you," He bit your neck, causing you to moan out loudly. Toji was really hoping the cameras were expensive enough to have microphones, because the noises you were making were fucking unbelievable.

"Fuck, pretty girl, you sound so good f'me." The older man continued lapping at the sweet spot on your neck, fully intending to mark you up for everyone to see.

Toji hastily shoved his large hand down your already unbuckled and unzipped pants, fingers plunging into your warm cunt. You were already so wet, just like he knew you were going to be.

You were practically panting like a dog with how desperate you were.

"Atta girl, just like that." He watched you intently as you fucked yourself on his hand. He couldn't help but encourage you sweetly; he wanted, no, needed to see you unravel in front of him, and you happily obliged, bouncing against his fingers at a rhythmic pace.

Already, you were close. It's not like you could help it; Toji was filling you up wonderfully, and the way he was whispering sweet nothings in your ear had you hurling towards your orgasm fast.

"Fuck, princess," He mumbled into your neck, watching you use his thick digits with lidded eyes. You moaned his name and clenched around his fingers at the new petname, causing him to stop entirely. "You fuckin' minx, you're drivin' me crazy with 'yer noises," he growled, bending you over the counter harshly. He tugged your pants down in one swift, fluid motion.

"Need to taste you, doll." Was all he said, before you felt his tongue thrust into your now sopping cunt. You grabbed at the edge of the counter and gasped, feeling the air completely leave your lungs. He was eating you out like a starved man, and his rough, calloused fingers were prodding at your clit. You felt like you were going to pass out.

"Toji, Toji, baby- 'm gunna cum. Please-"

You stiffened, as you felt Toji's hands and tongue leave your body. "No, no no no-!" You cried out, clenching around nothing and pushing your ass against open air. Toji's chest rumbled with a deep, mean laugh as he stood you up and turned you around to face him. You looked up at him with tears in your eyes at the loss of your orgasm, and Toji pouted mockingly. "Aw, what? My pretty baby's all hot and bothered 'cuz she didn't get to cum?" He clicked his tongue disapprovingly, with his hands on his hips. You pouted, tears now threatening to spill out.

"Such a crybaby," he sighed, pulling up your pants for you. "That's what you get for being a bratty, desperate whore." He smiled as he dried your eyes with his shirt, thinking about how much more he wants to see you cry. "You're so mean," you sniffed, readjusting your pants. "I was being good."

"Not good enough," Toji laughed as he walked back around the counter, snatching his onigiri and opening it before you could think about grabbing it from him. You glare at him, and he just waves you off.

"Thanks, princess."

[j-jinxee]

CANARY ☆

TYPE - Husker x Reader

WARNINGS - Mentions of possession, alcohol, swearing, cannibalism.

----------------------------------------------------

Background info - Alastor owned your soul, and a club. An underground club for only the finest cannibals and higher-ups, but you had no idea why he voluntarily worked here.

Another night, same old shit. Alastor would summon you an hour before opening, and watch you rehearse from backstage. Silently standing there smiling to himself, humming along to whatever tune was playing at the time. He used you as entertainment for his club, even though it was more like an underground black market. Overlords and higher-ups making deals every which way, it was sickening hearing what some of them would talk about.

You'd met everyone at this point, and everyone had met you. Even if no one knew your actual name, they wouldn't care anyway, because all you're known for is being Alastor's little song bird.

The only one that was still a mystery to you, was Husker. Why the fuck does he even work here? Does he seriously like serving cannibals and overlords that much that he chose to work here full fucking time? He always showed up 10 minutes before opening, came in through the back door and made his way over to the bar. Prepping glasses and bottles for the guests to come, does he actually like this job? It was sickening, you were here against your will but he just strolled up every night like it was a tea party. He never glanced at you, not before opening, not during the night, and not after work. As much as he disgusted you, you yearned to know more about him aswell.

A main reason you've never talked to him before is because there was always some rich old man who'd buy you drinks for the night, so you never ended up even needing to walk in his vicinity.

It'd be two years, two entire years and you'd never even spoken to the man, what's his deal? You thought you'd try and catch him on his break tonight, you'd simply have to refuse someone's offer to buy you a drink, and escape out the back door without Alastor noticing. You had multiple breaks while he only had one, so it was an easy job on your end.

- time skip asf -

A man you couldn't bother to remember the name of approached you as you stepped off stage. Offering to buy you a drink, just like he has a dozen times before. You politely declined and said you weren't really in the mood for a drink tonight, thankfully he wasn't pushy or invasive and left, wishing you a good rest of your night. Maybe you should ask for his name actually.

Now where is that barkeep?

As the other poor girls who also made the mistake of making a deal with the radio demon stepped on stage, you silently made your way out the back door. You saw him exit about five minutes ago, and his break is only 15 minutes, so you needed to go now if you wanted an actual conversation with him.

The back door lead straight out to an alleyway, only luminated by one flickering street light. The feline was seen leaning against the right side of the way, cigarette in his right hand, left hand in his pocket. He heard the door open and shot a glance your way, probably the first time you've ever seen him look at you.

His golden eyes almost looked as if they were glowing in that dim lit alley. Not knowing how to greet him, you just said what came to mind.

"Hey pussy-cat" even if you didn't mean it to sound degrading, it definitely came across that way. Even if you thought his choices were disgusting, you still wanted a chance to talk to him.

"Hey song-bird" he didn't know your real name either, song bird was a teaser. It felt even worse than when people called you Canary, especially since he said it without even facing you.

You walked closer to him, now leaning against the wall opposite to him, attempting to make eye contact.

"Don't mean to sound rude but, what's your deal? How do you know Alastor?" You thought it'd be best to just get to the point, he doesn't seem like the type to enjoy small talk.

"What's it to you?" He asked before raking another drag of his cigarette, still not meeting your eyes.

"Just curious I guess, I've seen you here for two years and we've never spoken" you stated your reasoning.

"We don't need to, we're both just on that fuckers leash, tryna pay our debts. I thought it'd be better not to bother you." Wait, what? He's under Alastors contract too?

"But you come here willingly, every night. While me and the dancers get summoned against our wills."

"You think just because I come here myself means I actually want to work at this sadistic shit hole?" He finally met your eyes.

"You're a good performer y'know. You're singin' is the only good thing about this sickening fucken joint."

"Guess I never thought of it that way" he was right, if he was sick of getting teleported against his will, I guess he would just get here himself instead. Alastor had to summon you and the other girls, because otherwise you wouldn't show up.

All that could be heard where faint sounds of sirens and gunshots from miles away, really giving the night an atmosphere, before Husk spoke.

"Thanks, you're drinks are pretty good too, pretty much the only thing that gets me through the night" you smiled.

He chuckled quietly. Throwing his cig on the ground as he started making his way back inside "Cya later Canary"

"Oh it's uh.." you started saying, he turned around. "It's actually [name], Canary is um, what Alastor gave me..."

"Hm, cya later [name]" he said with a slight smile as he entered the club once more.

You trusted him with your name after having that conversation, now knowing you probably weren't gonna accept as many free drinks as before.

----------------------------------------------------

Rahhh I hope this is good and like easy to picture like how I did in my head yk haha.

[macsimagines]

Can we have some NSFW jealousy headcanons for Yandere Bonten Hanma, Mikey and Sanzu? Please❤️

I'm back bitches, this has been in my box for awhile sooooo you're first also I've done this ask for Mikey a few times sooo sorry

TW: YANDERE BEHAVIOR, ABUSIVE BEHAVIOR, PHYSICAL VIOLENCE, MURDER, KIDNAPPING?

Yandere!Hanma Shuji

Look, you need to be the real deal for him to give even a singular fuck about you. Its not easy for him to even "care" about an S/O, so for him to be a yandere means you're very special to him.

Not that it will ever show, he's acting like he's playing with you when the reality is you're the only thing on his mind. He flirts around, humiliates you and says borderline abusive things. It's not his fault you're cuter when you cry.

But now, you seem to think in that stupid tiny brain of yours that this is an equal playing field. That you get to play around too. Dumb baby.

He can't help but cock his head at how you're fliritng with some nobody at this dinner party. The way you bat your eyelashes and even touch this other guys shoulder. Hanma thinks you might've hit your head with how stupid you're being.

Then your eyes meet his from across the room and he sees the way you sneer at him. Like you're taunting him.

He takes care of it though. Takes care of the idiot that thought he could take something from Hanma Shuji. He makes sure that his fists don't stop until he's punching what feels like brain matter and shattered bones. He makes sure you're watching too. Laughing the whole time.

Even when he's done with the other man he still gets up and grabs you by the hair, smacking you hard across the cheek with a hand covered in rings and warm blood. He thinks he likes the wet sound it makes.

"This is your own fault, Y/N. What makes you think you get to play around like that? Now tell Daddy you're sorry."

Yandere!Sanzu Haruchiyo

You're shit out of luck because he is always jealous. It's just been a constant theme in your 'relationship' ever since it started.

The first night you met him was at the Haitani Brother's club, and you flirted back and forth with him, even though you weren't really feeling it.

But he had a lot of money and seemed to like spending it on buying you expensive drinks. So you let him have his hands on your waist, or would let it slide to cup your ass without really thinking too much about it.

It wasn't like you had to go home with him, right? Wrong. You let your attention be captured by someone else, someone actually your type and he sent them flying across the table...

After that he made it very clear you're attention is only reserved for him, and then he made it very very clear that you were going to be going home with him that night, and then he made it very very very clear that you're not going to be leaving his home that next morning. Ever.

"I've decided that you're just too pretty, and I'm going to keep you all to myself."

[lcnleyisthemuse]

First time for everything | Onlyfans creator!jake Webber

Pairing: onlyfans creator!jake Webber x onlyfans newcomer!reader

Warnings: smut finally, talk of public sex, sex being filmed, making out, fingering, talk of penetration being uncomfortable, clitoral stimulation, sex toys, slightly overstimulation, lmk if I missed anything

Word count: 2.6k

You were nervous beyond belief, you felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest, or worse, find its way up your throat and out your mouth right onto the carpeted floor of Jake's bedroom. You started to question yourself why you agreed to do this. You were a newcomer on onlyfans, not many followers and not a lot to keep people interested. But when your friend, Jake, who was also an onlyfans creator but way more popular than you, offered to help you out, you for some reason agreed. Now you were starting to regret that.

You knew Jake followed you on onlyfans but you weren't sure if he'd actually seen your videos. They were shitty, home filmed videos with a shaky camera. You didn't have all the high tech shit jake had. You didn't have the money for it like he did. He had helped you create the account but that was about it. You complained to him about how you weren't doing well and he offered to help you out. You didn't know what that entailed but you could probably guess it involved sex somehow. And that meant he'd see you naked which made your stomach do flips.

You weren't going to lie and say you hadn't seen his videos. You had, hell, he even showed you some of them to ask you if they were good or not. And you never knew how to respond to that. You were watching your best friend jerk off on video while he sat right next to you. What the hell were you supposed to say? 'No, the videos bad because you're moaning weird' yeah, absolutely not. Instead you would just nod and say they looked good and that's about it. You were too timid to ask him how your videos were, despite having an onlyfans account, you were incredibly shy in real life. You didn't know how you were supposed to do this. You could back out at any time but part of you didn't want to.

Jake walked back into the room, holding his tripod. He wore a black tank top and grey sweat pants. He was so good looking it was crazy. His tattoos and muscles showing, it drove you crazy. But you'd never tell him that, that was a secret you'd take to your grave. Plus, you never wanted to make things awkward between the two of you, he saw this as work, as a friend helping a friend and nothing more. he sat the tripod down in front of the bed. "So, what were you thinking?" He asked as he grabbed his camera. What were you thinking? Absolutely nothing and everything at the same time. You had no ideas about what you wanted to film, you hadn't even thought about that. You were too busy thinking about jake and him seeing you naked and how he'd act like it was no big deal.

"Or are you even thinking?" Jake chuckled as he set up his camera. "That one," you giggled nervously. "You know, if you don't want to do this, we don't have to. I just wanna help you out in any way I can." Jake said as he set his camera on the tripod then sat next to you. "No! I totally want to! I'm just nervous." You said, smiling over at him. "I mean, I am too. I've never done a collab." He admitted. "But it should be easy, I mean it's just you and I." Jake shrugged. "Yeah, it should be easy." You said, shrugging slightly.

"So do you wanna get changed?" Jake asked, making you laugh and playfully hit his chest, "fuck off, you know I don't own lingerie." You giggled. "I know, I'm just fucking with you. Maybe next time I'll buy you lingerie. Oh! Or we could go film in like a dressing room. People love public stuff." Jake said. "I am not doing public stuff! That's- that's so dangerous! I prefer the comfort of my own home." You said, giggling. "Fine, fine, we can stick to a bed. I'm just saying, there's options." He chuckled, standing back up.

"Anyways, I have a plan in mind." Jake said, as he looked at his camera, setting it up to get the right angles. "Do tell," you said, sitting criss cross on the bed. "So we do like something soft and sweet. I mean that seems to be your vibe and I think my fans would enjoy seeing me being nice for once." Jake said as he stood beside the camera. "Oh so we do like cute sex? Like soft and slow?" You asked and he nodded. "I think it'll fit with your videos." He said and you nodded. "Sounds good to me." You smiled, still feeling nervous but the nerves were slowly starting to settle.

"So are you ready to get started?" He asked and you nodded in response with a smile. Jake smiled, switching the camera on to record. He pulled off his shirt, coming towards you. He put his hands on the bed, crawling towards you making you giggle. "So we're just getting right into it?" You said softly, with a soft nervous giggle. "Yeah, unless you had other plans," Jake said softly before kissing your jaw. You bit down on your bottom lip, letting your head fall back. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving soft, open mouthed kisses against your neck. You let out a soft whimper at the feeling. With every kiss, your nerves went away and you began to get into the groove of everything.

He gently grabbed your face, making you look at him before he kissed you gently. Your lips moved in sync as he slowly pushed you back to lay down and his lips followed yours. He used one hand to hold himself up and his other hand went to your waist, trailing under your shirt and up your side. You let out soft sighs as his lips moved back down to your neck. "How do you feel? Still nervous?" He asked against your skin before looking up at you. "You could tell I was nervous?" You asked, speaking softly. "I can read you like a book, y/n." He chuckled, his hand traveling up to your chest. He groped your chest, under your shirt making you bite down on your bottom lip. "You gonna be loud for me?" He asked, looking up at you through his lashes as he began to kiss down your clothed chest. Your breathing picked up, cheeks flushing red as you nodded. "Good girl," he muttered, making your heart flutter in your chest.

He sat back up, grabbing the waistband of your shorts. "I'm gonna take these off now, okay?" He said softly and you nodded in response. You sat up on your elbows to watch him as he pulled off your shorts and threw them to the side. "Cute panties," he chuckled, looking down at your white panties with little flower details. "Oh hush," you giggled, lying back down on your back. "Mhm, whatever," he chuckled, pushing your shirt up to show off your stomach. He began to kiss down the middle of your stomach, right over your clothed pussy. You gasped softly, feeling his lips against your clothed skin. He kissed back up your stomach and to your neck then to your lips. He deepened the kiss, gently biting down on your bottom lip making you whimper.

His free hand found its way between your legs, rubbing slow circles on your clothed clit making you moan softly. "I know you're a quiet girl, but you can be louder," Jake said, kissing your cheek. He rested his forehead against yours as his fingers rubbed your clothed clit. You spread your legs a bit more. You had almost completely forgotten about the camera, now just enjoying the time between the two of you. His hand left your heat for a second, placing his hand on your inner thigh and pushing your legs further open. He was a bit more focused on getting a good view for the camera.

He pushed your panties to the side, sliding his middle finger between your folds to gather wetness. "You're soaked, is that all for me?" He asked, loud enough for the camera to pick up on it. You nodded, biting down on your bottom lip. You whimpered as he pushed his middle finger into you. "Fuck, you're so tight." He said, you didn't respond, just closed your eyes trying to enjoy the moment. His finger stilled, "hey, look at me," he said softly, making you open your eyes. "You good? We can stop if you're uncomfortable." He said, speaking softly. "I'm okay, keep going." You responded, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Okay," he smiled, giving you a quick peck on the lips before moving his finger again.

He slowly pushed a second finger in, making you squirm slightly. "Gotta get you ready, baby. I don't wanna hurt that tight cunt." He said, he was definitely trying to put on a show for the camera, you could never see him saying that off camera. He curled his fingers and scissored them slightly to open you up. It was uncomfortable but you'd done uncomfortable things before for the camera. You had to put on a show. So, you moaned. It was soft but still a moan, you were trying to make it seem like it felt good, when in reality it just felt like, well, like you had two fingers shoved in you.

It wasn't Jake's fault, you knew that. You'd tried plenty of times to finger yourself, to ride a dildo, to have other people finger you but it never felt good. It just felt uncomfortable and like an intrusion. You moaned again, closing your eyes. You furrowed your eyebrows, trying to plan on when to moan to make it sound natural. You were overthinking it. It always got like this after a certain point. The foreplay was great, the kissing, the dirty talk, the clitoral stimulation, it was all good. When something went in side of you, that's when it became technical, thinking of when to moan, when to act like you were going to cum.

"I'm close," that was a straight up lie, you were no where near close, if anything you were far from it. Jake stopped, "no you're not," he chuckled. You opened your eyes, looking at him, confused. "No- no- I'm totally close." You tried to lie but Jake could tell. "You don't have to lie to me." Jake removed his fingers, sitting up. "Talk to me, what can I do to make it feel good?" He asked. Well that was a first, you always thought of filming as a job, never worried about making it feel good. "I-I don't know. It's fine, look just get back into it and like I'll act like I'm cumming. I'm really good at faking it." You said, giving him a forced smile.

Jake furrowed his brows, "Do you ever cum?" He asked. You sat up, shrugging, "No, but that's not the point. Filming is the point and if it looks and sounds good, that's what matters." You said, pulling your knees up to your chest. "Do you even like doing it?" He asked, looking at you concerned. You looked down, "it's a job." You shrugged. "I mean do you enjoy it?" You asked. Jake nodded, "Yeah, I do. I do it because I enjoy it. I wouldn't do it if I didn't enjoy it." Jake said. "Oh," you said softly, now feeling awkward.

You always thought Jake did this as a job, not because he actually enjoyed it. You did it because it was a job, you rarely, if ever, enjoyed it. Jake stood up, turning the camera off. "no, you don't have to do that, we can still make a video for your channel." You said, looking up at him. "I'm not going to continue filming what we're doing." Jake said as he got back on the bed. "But- but we're going to continue?" You asked. He nodded, "we're going to figure out what makes you feel good," he smirked, crawling back towards you.

"But what if nothing feels good?" You asked. "We'll find something. Here, let me see what I have," Jake said before standing back up. He went to his dresser, opening the top drawer. "How do you feel about vibrators?" He asked. "They make me cum too quickly," you sighed. "There's no such thing as cumming to quickly." Jake said as he pulled out a vibrator. He came back over to you, setting the toy on the bed beside you. He climbed back onto the bed, gently pushing you back to lay down on the bed. You laid back down, "okay, now let's see.." Jake said, bringing his lips to your neck, he was gentle with his open mouthed kisses. "How does this feel?" He asked as he paused the kisses. "Good," you said softly. He pushed up your shirt, exposing your chest to him. He kissed over your breasts before kissing down the center of your chest to your stomach before moving his body down between your legs. He gently pushed your legs open, grabbing the vibrator.

"Let's see how this feels," he said as he turned on the vibrator. He very gently placed the vibrator over your clothed clit. For the first time you moaned and it was a real moan. "Oh, so you like it, good to know." He chuckled. You let out a breathless giggle before moaning again. He moved the vibrator in small circles making your back arch. You placed a hand in his hair, tugging making him groan. "Fuck, you're a bit rough with your hands huh?" He chuckled, but didn't mind you tugging on his hair, he liked it. "Sorry- sorry," you whimpered, tugging his hair again making him moan softly. "Fuck, you keep doing that, I'm gonna cum in my pants." He groaned out, he was grinding down against the mattress.

"I'm close- fuck- I'm close," you moaned, throwing your head back. "I wanna try something, just hold on." He pulled the vibrator away making you whimper loudly and tug his hair. "Just give me a sec, baby." He said, pushing your panties to the side. He slid two fingers in, making you whine. He placed the vibrator back on your clit as he moved his fingers in and out of you. "Oh fuck-" you whined, head thrown back and back arched. You tugged his hair, clenching around his fingers. "Fuck, you are close." He moaned. You nodded in response, "fuck, can I- fuck- can I cum?" You asked, practically shaking under him. "Fuck yeah, cum for me." He groaned out, he wasn't going to admit that he was also close from the hair pulling and grinding against the mattress.

You came around his fingers, legs shaking and toes curling as you moaned out. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," you said repeatedly. Jake moaned as you pulled his hair particularly hard. He came in his pants and he didn't even care, it was so hot watching you cum around his fingers he couldn't care less about looking like an idiot with cum in his pants. He turned off the vibrator, tossing it to the side before leaning down. He laid his tongue down flat on your clit making you whine. "Sensitive," you whimpered, trying to push his head away. "I know, I know. I just want a taste." He said, pulling his fingers out and replacing them with his tongue. He moaned at the taste as you squirmed under him. Finally, he pulled away, licking his fingers. He crawled back up your body, kissing you deeply. You kissed back, wrapping your arms around his neck. When he pulled away, he laid down beside you as you cuddled into him. "Fuck, we're definitely doing that again. I gotta figure out what else makes you feel good," he said making you giggle. "Whatever you say," you said as you cuddled into him, kissing his cheek before closing your eyes.

[slay00ryu]

HI I JUST READ THE ANGEL X ED!READER GRRRR

Can you possibly write one with Ronin? ( If you don’t, I understand! It’s a very heavy topic, either way! Thank you for even considering <3! )

Devil to the rescue.

»»————-　♡　————-««

tw! - eating disorders - picking on skin - self hate

»»————-　♡　————-««

Stuffing your face.

That's the only thing you seem to be good at. Every time you get lost in your work and then one stressful event happens you're just eating so much that you're practically throwing up.

This time was no different. You had zero idea for your new story, the reports you had to edit and send to your boss were piling up and a certain serial killer was a little busier than usual.

You coughed after the sandwich you just practically swallowed in one bite almost didn't go through your esophagus.

"Fuck." You mumbled when the feeling of unstoppable hunger didn't fade. "There's nothing in my fridge." You stood up and grabbed your front door keys. "Guess I have to go grocery shopping."

You didn't hate going out, but you hated the amount of restaurants you passed on a day like this. You had to stuff your face or you would pick on your skin again and you barely managed to let your fingertips heal. Really seeing them all bloody and swollen didn't make you feel any better.

When you got out of the door, you almost bumped into someone.

"Woah, you're so quick to go and buy food, huh darlin'?" The voice you knew so well reached your ears and your hunger was replaced with a mixture of shock and excitement.

"Ronin?" You asked and looked at his face. There was no blood on him so he didn't return from a fresh kill. "Why are you here?"

"What? Can't pay a visit to my baby now?" That shit-eating grin was glued to his face right now and you just rolled your eyes at the sight.

"As if." You mumbled. "Wait. How did you know where I was going?" You asked him after the realisation hit you.

"I was watching you, your every move and habit. Something didn't feel right with you and you weren't spilling your guts about it." He took a strand of your hair between his fingers and played with it. "Eating disorders, huh?"

"What? No, i'm healthy!" You didn't want to accept the problem.

You knew that it was there, but you didn't want to name it. The thought of having problems with something as easy and basic like eating made you feel shame. Especially when your version of said disorder was rather unpopular. Most people spoke about not eating or eating very little, but you? You could go a few days without eating and then eat like some starved animal.

It made you feel like you were the epitome of gluttony in a human form. You could only devour food like some wild beast during the bad days. That wasn't bad right? Eating because of stress. A lot of people have that and no one calls them out on having a disorder!

"Healthy my ass, as much as I would love to argue with you, this time you have to bear it and accept it. You're suffering love. Binge eating is a thing and it's serious." He crossed his arms over his chest.

You looked at the ground in shame.

"Hey. It's not something to be ashamed of." He lifted your head with his fingers under your chin. "I will help you. Didn't spend all that time watchin' you jus' to leave you because of some disorder you have." He shrugged.

"Yeah, you're even more fucked up than I am." He chuckled.

"And you loved me for it."

»»————-　♡　————-««

[androgynousblackbox]

Alright, I am watching the reaction stream of another person to see the video of Jamesy and I have thoughts! -Jamesy is REALLY counting on buttering up to Jessie Gender specifically. He named her so many times trying to "apologize" for weaponizing his audience against her when she told him to not erase her work in Nebula just because his whiny entitled ass couldn't accept that he wasn't invited to the platform. Not a single word about actually going to her and talk privately though, just a bunch of "ooh, Jessie Gender is the kindest, best human being ever and I am so sorry to her", like, bitch, WHY ARE YOU EVEN TALKING ABOUT HER? Jessie wasn't the worst victim of your actions! Your bullshit with her happened long BEFORE anything of this happened, so why the fuck are you even bringing her up?? My only guess is that Jamesy wants Jessie to speak on his favor and "forgive him", hoping that will bring him new good will from the queer community in youtube. I am fucking crossing my fingers and touching wood that Jessie does not fall for this manipulative bullshit. This guy is literally clout chasing because, again, when it came to the plagiarism, Jessie had NOTHING to do here. Jessie, if you want an easy win, don't say anything about this. Don't even aknowledge it. Pretend like a mosquito just farted in another building. You had nothing to do with this and I am sorry this piece of shit is trying to drag you into it to take advantage of your good nature. -"I only cared about the production side of making videos, that is why I bring Nick in as the main writer." This motherfucker really went and did it. He is literally blaming Nick squarely now, because now he is just not a co-writer. No, now he is the MAIN WRITER. Jamesy here was just trying to making his little films and buy expensive ass equipment while telling everyone he was starving on the streets, he only cared about the production. NICK, THOUGH, HE WAS ALL ABOUT THE WRITING. He was the one who put the words and little Jamesy baby boy here only "produced, directed and edited" (omg, shut the fuck off, man, your editing skills are mid at best) everything. -Way too many sob stories. I don't care, man. I don't fucking care that you got fired or whatever conditions you had. Do you have any fucking clue how many people do really struggle to reach the end of the month and they still never even think of stealing someone else's work? Everyone is struggling and yet, you were the one who made a career for fucking years out of stealing the works of everyone else in this community AND THEN, when call out, tried to paint them as the bad guys.

-A lot, and I do mean, a lot of time to "apologize" to Jessie Gender, but you know who he didn't apologize to? Literally none of the authors he stole from. Not the fan whose edit of Korra he used without credit. Not Alexander Avila. Not that person who was harassed to hell and back by Jamesy and his audience when they showed how he plagiarized on his disney video. Jessie deserved to be name dropped at least thirty times, but those people?? They are fucking nobodies. They don't matter. Why name them at all? It's not like their WORK WAS STOLEN BY YOU OR ANYTHING! And that is another thing! Even if Jamesy is really out there blaming Nick for all the words that they took without credit, then what the fuck is up with all the footage, edits and audiovisual works that weren't for you to take? You said your passion is production. That is part of the production, Jamesy. Is this you admitting you fully just fucking stole them and hoped nobody would notice because you are a lazy piece of garbage?

-"Having to do multiple edits because youtube copyright issues was so hard for me, guys, you don't understand uwu. It was so hard on me to make it less obvious I had plagiarized people!" THAT IS ENTIRELY YOUR OWN FAULT, BRO.

-So, hey, funny thing. I was looking to see if other people were reacting or had reuploaded the video so I could put it here. They haven't yet, there is only two reactions, but while I was doing that I found a video of ANOTHER person talking about Jamesy ripping them off: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bsD-wodn288 Apparently Jamesy had stolen a blog post that this person wrote about Lord of The Rings and they weren't known by anyone, they don't even like that article anymore, but still! Go see that video instead of watching Jamesy and support them if you find value on their work.

-Hey, Jamesy. Jamesy. You do know that epilepsy and head injuries or memory issues don't take you threaten, lie and weaponize your audience against people who call out your plagiarism with the evidence in hand, right? That has literally nothing to do actually, because you had to be aware off of the issue for you to lie about it after someone else brought it up. After the first time it happened, you could have hired another beta reader to tell you that ups, your memory/epilepsy/memory issues/ADHD strike again and you don't remember from where you took that quote from, sorry! You had money for that expensive ass camera, you could have. -Like, my guy, there were so many steps involved here. So many steps from writing, production, backlash and your response to the backlash. Even if any part on this was an honest mistake, something I don't fucking believe in because fuck you, you had millions of opportunities to rectified it and change it. And yet you didnd't. And so here we are, without you receiving not even a miserable fucking like. Go to hell. A mistake doesn't get repeated so many times for years. That was all a choice, bitch. Fuck you.

And here is where I stopped because his voice is like nail on my ears.

Don't look at his video, it's truly not worth it. DON'T LEAVE COMMENTS EITHER, YOUTUBE TAKES THAT AS ENGAGEMENT ANYWAY.

[blerb-f1]

"Let them talk" - 2008!Sebastian Vettel x Engineer!Reader (platonic???)

This one is again based on another Song called "Lasse Reden" (Let them Talk) by Die Ärzte. I really like it so give it a listen if you want to.

Let em run their mouths 

Did you do something that normally no one does?

Are you wearing high heels or even a hat?

Or did you wear too skimpy of a dress,

Without asking your neighbors for permission first?

Sebastian flipped the newspaper open, staring disgruntled at the articles badmouthing him. For some reason, German Media weren't a Fan of him. A young, overly confident upstart they could step on easily is what he was to them. 

Of course, now you'll be treated with contempt

You're a disgrace to the whole neighborhood

You don't even know their names

And they're already running their mouths about you. 

You just stared at the awful stuff they said about him. Just where exactly did they get that stuff from? What made them get those ideas? Were they so miserable in their own boring little lifes? 

You leaned forward, comfortingly holding Sebastian's right hand. 

"They don't know you Seb, that's why they're able to pull shit like this" 

Sebastian looked at another article, eyes scanning the rude words laid in front of him. 

"I know that THEY don't know me. That's why they are so rude. I mean, I've just joined Red Bull properly. Taking over after David Coulthard won't be easy but what do they expect? If Horner wants me to be Driver 1, I have to become Driver 1. That's how the Business works. Bashing Me because they wanted Mark to get the spot is idiotic. It's not like we two have that many choices to make in that regard"

You eyed a smaller article, reading the insults that were hurled at you. Being Sebs' equally young and inexperienced Engineer at Toro Rosso was already pretty special but Christian Horner invited you to follow him to the Main Team. Like a Buy one get one free deal. Pretty nice money and friendship wise but pretty bad gossip wise. 

Let them talk, and don't listen to them

Most people just don't have anything better to do

Let them talk, day and night

Let them talk - they always have, anyway

Apparently, something you didn't know about yourself,was that you were the lover of Helmut Marko and got Sebastian into this position by fucking said old fart on top of the RB03. Interesting. Another, even meaner comment, had implied that somehow Sebastian was a paid driver that got in thanks to Flavio Briatore and you had planned Crashgate. Considering that you were just a little engineer at Toro Rosso, that seemed very outlandish. Furthermore, something about Briatore always irked you the wrong way so there was no way in Hell you'd be caught dead around him. Being the same age as Sebastian, you didn't think that people were taking you as capable of stuff like that. A 21y.o. planning something like Crashgate? And even if you somehow were that big brained, in what manner would Fernando Alonso winning the Race benefit Sebastian? You just shook your head at the brainfarts that managed to get printed. 

You've certainly robbed a bank

How else could you afford your rent?

And you've been banned from the United States

Because you're Osama bin Laden's lover

Seb sighed as he read another news out loud: "Michael Schumacher reveals: Vettel too cocky for his own good. The 7x champion despises being around the moronic Rookie". As he finished reading and slouched back into his seat, you just stared in shock. Michael liked Sebastian. He appreciated him as a driver, a young fresh talent and as a fellow German. He treated him more like a son than anything. He was a better not dad than most of those so-called journalists must have had growing up.  You stood up from your own booth seat, sliding over to Sebs Side, bumping into his side while sending him a Comforting Smile. You both sipped the bad Coffee they served in Hospitality, trying to form fictional race tracks out the stains the mugs left on the table.

Do you shave your women's-beard daily

Or do you have a few corpses buried in your garden?

The neighbors surmised as much

So don't be surprised when the detectives drop by

You pointed at another article. "See this one?". The young man moved his eyes to the next page, gazing upon the article squished between ads for most likely racist books and lawnmowers. "Fernando Alonso actually deceased, replaced by a driver that got plastic surgery."

He chucked at the thought of someone learning to be like Fernando Alonso. Some poor bloke forced to do that bunny dance on top of an F1 Car. How even would one imitate a Driver?  "Imagine getting someone to look like Coulthard? Would they put new bones into that chin?" you joked while pointing at your chin. You then hollowed out your cheeks, stretching your face. "Or imagine someone looking like Mark. Like, how do you initiate that?”

Seb started laughing along with you while pretending to give himself a longer chin:"Sebastian Vettel imitates Michael Schumacher. Has this rookie gone too far?" 

The laughter coming from deep down your stomach was so loud that some of the other people in hospitality turned around, staring at you two. Normally you’d hide away in some empty office, eating your cold food there while racing against Sebastian on your two PSP’s that he won in a raffle.

Let them talk and just don't listen

Most people don't mean anything by it

It's their monotonous life that bothers them

And the day becomes much more interesting when you tell stories

Mark, who'd heard your imitations, while walking in, came over and scooted into the booth you sat in earlier while giving you two a comforting smile. "That's the correct way to deal with those stupid fake news" he stated, while stretching his legs under the table. "They'll always think of something stupid to talk about. What are they supposed to report, if not stupid shit like that? You think normal people buy the headline 'Red Bull Racing' s new Talent Sebastian Vettel is a kind bloke'?" 

Seb seemed to tense next to you for a second before relaxing again." You mean, this will go on forever? "

" Yes", Mark answered bluntly. "That's how it's always been and always will be." 

And they probably don't feel ashamed

They lack discretion

And repeatedly prove: [that] they are petty,

inescapable, xenophobic

"Look at the stuff they write about Lewis Hamilton, for example" he said while smiling sadly. "Your slander is just normal slander, he's getting hate simply because his skin colour isn't on their approval page. Formula 1 features people from all over the world, so they pick the easiest target who could be someone who's from a minority group like Lewis or a young fool like you. Those people can span from idiots to hyenas. You gotta learn how to ignore them and especially, not feed them. Fake articles can be fun for a hot minute but blow up and grow into some massive thing "

Did you hear, and say, did you already know?

That is to say, you earn your money through prostitution

You work the corner by the bus station

The colleague of a brother-in-law saw you the other day

"So my Advice for you two: Don't run with what they say about you in public. Be so kind that it hurts. Y/N, don't mention that Crashgate stuff anywhere. The Brazilians won't be happy with your jokes and the media will spin it like you're actually involved and somehow hate everyone from there. Seb, don't treat Me different just because People hate Christian Horner putting you in this position. That's on them, not you. Just be polite and let your racing do the talking. "

His statements were the whole damn truth, leaving you and Seb too stunned to speak. Mark took this chance to take the newspaper away from you, just to chuck them into the trash bin." Let me resolve those issues for you. Drivers need to look out for one another, don't they? Someone gave me the same advice back then so i’m giving it to you now," Seb nodded in agreement, watching the tall man leave catering while the newspaper quickly got covered by leftover Spaghetti. 

Let them talk, just laugh it off

Most people get their information from Bild*

Which consists of, who knew,

Fear, hate, tits, and the weather report

Let them talk, because this is how it is:

As long as they talk, that's the worst they do

And you can afford a little hypocrisy

Stay polite and say nothing - that annoys them the most.

Seb stared at you for a short second before getting up and holding out his hand towards you like a knight to his princess. 

" Y/N, may I invite my strategic Genius to play an evil round of Gran Turismo 4?"

You grabbed his hand, pretending to flip your skirt. 

"Of course, Mr. Evil. But you take the Mad-Catz Controller" 

Seb stared at you with fake shock. The audacity. The Mad-Catz Controller was reserved for poor younger brothers around the world normally. You lost your other proper one during the move to Red Bull though and this one was the one Horner had gotten you after asking you for a new one.

"How dare you make Christian Horner's secret Love Child take the shitty Controller?" 

You stuck out your tongue towards him. "I'm sorry Sebastian Horner, I think having Helmut Marko, Flavio Briatore and Bernie Ecclestone on speed dial makes me the instant winner of the original Controller." 

While Mark had told you to not make fun of that stuff, doing it once or twice won't be too bad, will it? 

*Bild is like a shitty german newspaper with clickbaity titles known to stir hatred, show lots of nudity and general stupidity.  Also yes, i'm having Seb Brainrot rn.

[howdoesagrapewrites]

'𝐎𝐧𝐝𝐞 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧 𝐥𝐨 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐨 𝐲 𝐥𝐨 𝐡𝐮𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐩𝐚 𝐤 𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐨 ⁉️

Cw: Miles G Morales/Miles 42 x high maintenance!latina!reader, kinda toxic relationship if you think about it

Notes: I was listening to Arca while doing the dishes and I was like "damn, I really shouldn't be doing this, dónde está mi gringo con dinero☹️"

Miles' love language was providing. And by god, how much you liked getting provided for.

He could only do so much to stop the smug smile creeping up his face when he gave you something you've been eyeing for a long time. This time it was hot pink platform heels, your eyes lit up seeing the box and opening it up to check all the little details before jumping into your boyfriend's arms, littering little kisses all over his face. "Gracias, gracias, gracias, thank you so much, baby" you nuzzled into his neck, he patted the back of your head and captured your lips in a brief but fiery kiss.

"put them on, mami, wanna see you" and of course you were going to put on a show for him.

Miles knew you weren't for him because of his money, that you loved him deeply and honestly, and he couldn't ask for a better girlfriend, so he was just repaying all your love with pretty dresses, skincare, makeup, or whatever crossed your mind. Most of the things you had weren't even things you asked for, just things your boyfriend would gift you and give you out of nowhere, whenever a specially expensive piece of jewelry or over the top gesture came your way, you'd feared you forgot about an anniversary or a special occasion, but with time, you learned that I was a token of love, the same way that you'd buy chocolates for your partner, except Miles' "chocolates" were louboutins.

He loved to feel you rely on him, trust him, in his mind, that trust was the first step towards a life together, Miles knew that he wanted to be his last, mother of his children typa shit, and he wanted only the best for you. He knows your life as his partner will never be easy, you're doing emotional labour, you worry about him constantly, and he'll never soothe your worries completely, he can't deny you're right to worry with his... Line of work.

He keeps pictures of your new nails, new hairstyles, of your hand in his while you wear the new ring he bought you. He loves the feeling of pride when you post and brag about him, how you tell him your friends are jealous you found such an extraordinary guy, how you call him "my man" with honey in your voice.

Miles who sends you 300 USD every week for whatever you want, and additionally buys you gifts and gives you money for anything else you need

Miles who gets upset when he sees you buying too much for yourself instead of using his card

Miles who is always listening to you, and whatever your complain is, you shouldn't worry if money can solve it, he's got it figured it out

Miles who doesn't give a fuck if you just want to eat expensive food and spend your days in spas and doing absolutely nothing else but enjoying yourself as long as he can spend time with you

Miles who comes back late to your shared place, and just collapses in the egyptian cotton sheets next to you, knowing you'll tuck him in and cuddle with him for the night

Miles who knows there's no luxury brand in this world that can ever shine half as bright as your smile when you welcome him home

[momo-de-avis]

Historical context needed for what I am about to explain: portuguese Green Wine has a "backyard" type of history. It was started by small producers and it is very much a rural wine, made by people who stand on the opposite end of the enologist spectrum. It's called Green for several reasons but one of them being that they did make wine with green grapes initially considering the region of Minho, where it comes from, gets less sun than the rest of the country and harvest happened at the same time as everywhere else so the grapes hadn't ripened. The fizziness however comes from something else. Typically producers stored this wine in barrels to let it ferment, but because it's colder there than the rest of the country, fermentation took longer than usual. In the spring, people would knock on their doors to buy this wine. Like I said, these were very much back-door buyers, that's where green wine comes from. Because most producers were far from rich, they weren't about to turn a prospect buyer away just because fermentation wasn't done. So they filled up bottles and sealed them. What happens when you seal a fermenting wine is that it releases gas, thus creating a very soft fizziness.

With that out of the way,

The other day, during a tour, a client asked me for a green wine with no fizziness, and I immediately suggested Alvarinho. But that's the easy answer and there is another one I was trying to remember. It happened that we were at a wine bar in that moment (one of our partners) so I thought, I'll ask S, the owner.

I like S and her husband, I really do. I like the staff there. But I worked at a gallery and I can sniff out snobs like k9s in airports and the snobbery was off the charts that day. Still, I head downstair and say "hey S, do you have a green wine without fizziness?"

With the most disgusted look on her face, she says "Green wine doesn't have fizziness".

This is where the historical context I just provided you with comes in. Because my family on my father's side comes from that region, and while they aren't producers, they have always consumed that exact type of green wine. What changed over time was us joining the EU which resulted in a professionalisation of wine producers, and the reinforcement of demarcated regions led to Green Wine having rules established. Meaning, fizziness is not mandatory and when added is a synthetic process, and the grapes aren't green anymore.

It's true that most producers who make bottled green wine are giving up on the fizziness entirely, but to say "green wine doesn't have fizziness" is factually incorrect, and S knew it, she was just being a fucking snob.

So she says that and I'm just standing there in silence like. What do you want me to say to that? And she asks me what do I want. I say, the client asked me for a green wine without fizziness. She says, none of our green wines have fizziness. I'm like, do I look like I work here? I don't even know where your green wines are oh my god just show me one.

There's a bit of back and forth with "what do you want" and me insisting "I don't want shit, it's the client" and she's clearly boasting about how much she knows about not just green wine, but good quality green wine, and she's clearly trying to make me look like a fucking idiot in front of her friends, and it's at this point she picks up a bottle and one of friends (and this man had a moustache and a pair of spectacles that you could just tell he was the Major Snob) says "that one has a hint of green apples".

I genuinely don't know if he was fucking with me or not, but I take the bottle upstairs and the moment I show it to my client I remember it's Soalheiro what wanted to show him, so I just tell him fuck these snobs, go to Garrafeira Nacional instead and get a bottle of Soalheiro.

Next day, I have another tour. At the green wine stop, I tell the history of the wine, everything I just explained to you.

Then, I realise I am still salty as fuck over the day before. And so I go on a rant about snobs. I tell them: while it is true that green wine has evolved and wine experts are in favor of green wine without fizziness, the truth is this is a back-door producers type of wine. It's very rural and in the past 30 years its production was boosted thanks to EU money and professional wine producers. But the people still like the fizziness. I said there's bottled green wine, but there's also on tap, or draft, and when it's draft, it's always carbonated. I told my clients: try going to a marisqueira and asking for a non-carbonated green wine to eat sea food and see what happens. Because the concept alone is an insult. People love green wine, with and without fizziness, but with fizziness is dear and special to people. So, if you ever hear anyone say that real green wine isn't carbonated, please know that those people are, in my humble opinion and as a person whose family has an emotional connection to the wine, snobs.

Funny thing is, that day, we finished the tour again at the same place as the day before, but the owners (The and her husband) weren't there.

As I was signing my papers to leave, a client walks past me, thanks me for the tour, then turns back, pats me on the shoulder, and dead ass says "thank you for not being a snob".

I have never felt more like I have won in life

[petitelepus]

I actually rethinked your offer..

Maybe i could get a tiny Sanemi fluff..? 🥺

Like, Sanemi sees reader crying and (out of mercy LOL) asks what's wrong, and after getting to know that yn is crying because she has nobody to spend her birthday with, he takes her out somewhere and buys her a gift, cake, they hangout yk 🥹

Sanemi was pissed. You were late from a training session with him and when he had gone to fetch you from your room, you weren't even there! Not only were you not showing up, but you were making him waste his time looking for you?! As his Tsuguko, you were supposed to train under his guidance!

You damn woman…! He wouldn't go easy on you just because of your gender! Gender meant nothing to Sanemi because it meant nothing to Demons who would be ready to eat you at any given moment if you didn't kill them first!

Sanemi was shouting your name as he ran from room to room, searching for you or any signs of you, but even the servants couldn't tell where you had gone off to.

The Hashira was about to lose his cool for good until he finally found you in the backyard, huddled at the corner of the estate's yard. Your back was to him so you probably hadn't seen him, but you must have heard him!

"Hey, shithead! Didn't you hear me calling your name!?" Saneni snapped as he made his way to you, but you were still ignoring him. Getting madder with every passing second, he grabbed your shoulder and made you look at him, "Oi! Look at me when I'm talking-!"

You looked and Sanemi was taken aback by big fat tears collected in your eyes and ones that were dripping down your face.

What the fuck? Why were you crying? You never cried, no matter how much Sanemi shouted, cursed, or trained you. Had someone said something to you? Who and what?

"Master Shinazugawa…" You murmured quietly and the man snapped out of his thoughts. "What the fuck? Why are you crying!?"

"It's… It's stupid…!" You sobbed as you started to violently rub your eyes clear of tears, "It's stupid and I'm stupid…!"

"I can't deny that…" Sanemi grumbled, but he was still a human so he asked, "What made you cry?"

"Nothing…"

"Nothing my ass! If there is nothing wrong then you wouldn't have even started to cry!" His patience was wearing thin, "So tell me what the fuck is wrong, or else I'll beat your ass!"

"It's…" You swallowed, "It's my birthday…"

"And?" Sanemi asked and you frowned, "And that's it…"

"That's it?" He couldn't believe his own ears. You were crying over your birthday!?

"Who cries over their birthday?! What are you, eight!?" He snapped and you frowned, "At least I had someone to celebrate it with last year! Now I got nobody…!"

Ah, the reason you had become a Demon Slayer and his Tsuguko… Now that Sanemi thought about it, it was almost a year since you had begged him to train you and maybe half a year since you passed the Final Selection.

He still remembered how he had told you to go away, marry some man, and pop out a kid or two, but you had been stubborn as a mule and determined to train under him, despite his poor patience and short fuse.

Sanemi rarely felt like shit, but now he certainly felt like one and a major one.

"Get up." He snapped and you sobbed one last time as you collected yourself and got up on your feet, but before you could do anything else, the Hashira grabbed you by your upper arm and started to pull you with him.

"Master, I can walk-!" You tried to protest, but the man just frowned, "Shut up and follow me!"

You shut your mouth, but you were nervous. Ignoring and disobeying a Hashira and your Master? You were sure you were going to get your ass beaten and handed back to you through vigorous training… But to your surprise, he dragged you to his quarters.

You were stunned and confused as to why he had taken you there, but then he let go and pointed at the small table in the middle of the room, "Sit. That's an order."

You nodded and as you took a seat, Sanemi searched for something from his cabinets.

Despite being mean and tough, he kind of understood why you were so upset.

The Wind Hashira had never really celebrated his own birthday, but whenever his younger siblings' birthdays were coming, he always made sure to remember them and go out of his way to get them something they would like. Even when they didn't have money for it, he always remembered the days his siblings were born.

He pulled out a parcel from the cabinet and as he took a seat opposite of you, he placed the carefully wrapped parcel between you two and opened it. You followed closely his hands' movement and your eyes widened as you saw perfect-looking Ohagi. Master's favorite.

"Master- W- What is this?" You looked at him in shock and the man frowned as he pushed a dark and sweet rice ball at you, "Ohagi. For your birthday."

"B- But-!" You were stunned. Sanemi wasn't exactly famous for sharing his favorite treats and here he was, offering some for you.

"Are you sure?" You asked and he frowned, "You want it or shall I eat them myself!?"

"Thank you for the food!" You thanked him as you quickly grabbed an Ohagi and took a bite. Your eyes widened. They were absolutely rich and sweet, filled with flavor and so delicious.

"Oh, wow…!" You smiled around your mouthful, "These are incredible!"

"They better be since I made them," Sanemi grunted as he picked one for himself and bit into it. Your eyes widened and you swallowed before asking, "You made these?"

"Who else?"

"Uuh, cook or a baker?" You weren't certain and the Hashira frowned, "I make them the way I like them. If they aren't good enough then you can hit the road!"

"No no, I love them! I love this! Thank you, Master!" You took another bite of the Ohagi and Sanemi grunted as the two of you ate his favorite food. Soon, the food was gone and you were licking your fingers clean. The man grunted as he looked at you, "Feeling better?"

"Hm!" You nodded with a happy smile, "Much better! Thank you for this, Master Shinazugawa!"

"Tch! When it's just you and I you can call me Master Sanemi."

"Eeh?" You looked at the man, eyes wide before you grimaced, "Really? Is that really okay? Do you do this a lot with cute girls like me? Talk about creepy!"

"It's just you, you little shithead!" Sanemi exclaimed, a vein on his temple popping in fury, but you just laughed.

"Just kidding, kidding!" You laughed but Sanemi didn't find it as funny as you did. "Shitty brat…!"

"Alright, if I remember right we should be training right now!" You nodded as you moved to get up, but Sanemi grunted as he laid down on his side, facing away from you, "Just for today… We are taking it easy and regaining our energy."

"Are you sure?" You asked and the man shot you a glare over his shoulder, "Talking back to me, huh!?"

"Nope, not at all!" You shook your head as you set down on the tatami and relaxed, listening to a wind chime tinkling somewhere in a calm breeze.

It was all so relaxing, the meal, the sounds, and for once even the company. Despite the sad memories of your past birthdays carved in your mind, this one was awfully sweet.