#please read the entire linked piece

[w4ndal0ver]

Seduction Techniques (mommy!wanda x sub!fem!reader)

[minors don't interact, 18+]

pairing: mommy!wanda maximoff x sub!fem!reader (set in the 1960s decade of wandavision, i forgot she doesn't have children at this point but I'm not rewriting it so pretend pls <3)

summary: You work for Stark Innovations as a secretary for Vision. After getting invited to a party at his house you turn up with a clingy and flirtatious colleague. Wanda immediately takes a likening to you, wanting to make you hers, but when she see's your colleague trying to mark her territory, she has to teach you a lesson.

content warnings: shameful mommy kink, gagging, slapping, praise and degradation, slut shaming, masturbation, fingering, cunnilingus, choking, toxic possessive wanda, mention of innocence and wandas fascination in your age gap and inexperience, images linked to breast feeding, adultery and gloriying affairs.

word count: 8k (strap in, its a long one)

Seduction Techniques

Stark Innovations, you read tracing the words with your finger. You hadn’t been at the company long, but to be completely honest you had no idea what you were actually working for. You knew that it was a leading technology and defence contractor, known for pushing the boundaries of modern engineering, but that wasn’t where your specialities lied. You’d been Visions secretary for about a week now, basically just running files between different sectors, answering emails and calls, but mainly you felt like you floated around the brightest minds within a 40 mile radius of Westview. 

This morning you were sitting at your desk, papers scattered across the surface, trying to figure out what you were supposed to do with all the folders. The office as a whole is a large, sterile space, intimidatingly quiet and you would do anything you could to avoid being noticed by the people who worked around you. This was impossible considering the only woman in the office was sitting adjacent to your desk and every time you glanced over at her, she was always looking curiously at you. 

The door of the main office creaked open and everybody looked up as Vision walked into the room, visiting each and every person at their desk with little A6 pieces of card. Once he got to you he spoke in a professional manner, “I wanted to give you this,” He reaches over the unorganised mess of your desk, acting as if he was pretending not to see the state of all of his files, giving you the benefit of the doubt considering it was only your first week. 

You take the card, glancing over the elegant script. It was an invitation to a party at his house, seemingly addressed as a mildly professional birthday gathering for himself. “It will be good for you to meet some people outside the office so please come along if you can,” He suggests, “And get this sorted out, come on.” His hands gestured to the stacks of paper all out of order. 

You nod, returning the gentle smile, though your mind is already racing with anxiety. You hadn’t expected to have to attend something quite this personal, a considerable line you were forced to cross so soon. You looked around the room, nobody else seemed mildly interested in the invitation, clearly a usual event for the rest of your colleagues. You glanced down at the invitation again, it was signed, Wanda and Vision. 

As you looked up from your desk, the brunette woman from across the room was now perching against your desk. “Hi, I’m Natasha by the way, I felt rude for not introducing myself.” She spoke softly, her eyebrow raised slightly as you held your hand out to meet hers in a shake. “Especially considering the testosterone in the room.”

You both giggle, yours slightly more nervous than hers. “Are you going to this thing?” You ask, unsure if you’d be able to attend without a friendly face you could use as a safety blanket if things went south. 

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Her eyes flickering over you in a way that makes your pulse quicken, even if you weren’t entirely comfortable with how publicly she was speaking to you. “But if you’re going, maybe I could tag along with you?”

“Well I’ve got an invitation, so I guess I’ll see you there.” You laugh nervously, not wanting to seem too thrown by her advances, considering she was the first person, other than your boss, to make an effort to talk to you. Not seeing you as below her as Vision’s secretary. “Who’s Wanda?” You ask, trying to shift the conversation away from her advances.

Natasha’s raised eyebrows tell you all you need to know, her expression clearly surprised. “You haven’t heard about Wanda? Everyone knows who she is.” She smirks, stepping back a little as she sips her coffee out of her floral patterned mug. “She’s Vision’s wife, you’ll see her this weekend. Trust me, you won’t miss her.” She winks, brushing her arm past yours as she walks away. You just nod, feeling a strange flutter of anticipation in your chest at the mystery that went by the name of Wanda. 

A few days went by and you were finally in your car, parked outside the address on the envelope. You were a little later than planned, but the grandeur of Vision’s house sat in front of you and you felt a wave of nerves pass over you. It was taking every part of you to not pull out and drive away from the white picket fence that enclosed the well-manicured lawn and perfectly trimmed hedges. You take a deep breath and decide to just face it, knowing that this might be your only chance to be forgiven for what you had to admit was a very bad first impression on your first week. 

Inside, everything is even more pristine than the front, polished wooden floors and family souvenirs scattered purposefully everywhere that you looked. It was a warm and welcoming atmosphere, aided by the warm lighting and harmonies of multiple conversations that was happening in the main room. You felt a little out of place, glancing around the small crowd that had gathered all together. You pull at your white buttoned blouse, re-adjusting your collar and smoothing down the creases in your forest green pencil skirt. 

Your eyes quickly find Natasha, standing in the corner with a glass of champagne in her hand. She notices you immediately, flashing you a mischievous grin as she saunters over, a slight sway in her hips as she approaches you. “You made it!” She says, her hand sliding casually onto your lower back as she leans her hip slightly closer to yours. You stiffen slightly but you try to play it off, not wanting to break friendships already. 

“Yeah, I couldn't miss it.” You admitted honestly, feeling stuck in a state of awkwardness which was quickly cut off by Vision approaching you both, dressed in a well tailored suit. 

“I’m glad you could both make it.” He exclaims, his voice slightly tired from the endless introductions and greetings that he was forced into at his own party. He shakes your hand briefly, then glances over his shoulder. “Wanda, darling, come say hello.”

You feel the air shift as Wanda emerges into your eyeline. She’s breathtaking in a subtle, but devastating way. Her red hair twisted into a French plait, pinned elegantly at the back of her head, the soft curled strands falling loose around her face. She’s wearing a deep green dress that hugs her curves in a professional manner, the material catching the warmth of the light just right. Her eyes are green, sharp, almost knowing as they settle on you. Then came her smile, one that could make you melt in an instant, making it hard to look away. 

“So, you must be the new one Vision’s told me about.” Her voice is rich, with a slight teasing edge that makes your hairs stand on end. She looks you over in a way that feels far too intimate for a first meeting, her eyes lingering just a little longer than they should, not remaining solely on your face. 

Before you have a chance to respond, someone calls her name from across the room. “Sorry I have been summoned,” She laughs, “But please get yourself a drink darling, don’t make me look like a bad host.” You watch her walk away, your eyes drawn to the casual sway of her hips, the graceful way she appears to move through people, like they magnetically moved and formed a path for her. 

For the next hour you tried to remain focused in your conversation with Natasha and other fellow colleagues who dropped in and out of your small circle. There was a pull in your chest that kept drawing your gaze back to Wanda, her auburn hair bounced as she spoke, that blush across her cheeks was a magnetic pull. Your stare always seemed to find her figure in the crowd, barely adding anything to any conversation. 

“I’m just going to grab another drink.” You say, interrupting the aimless conversation that you weren’t the slightest bit interested in. You, less elegantly, move through the crowd and through the arched doorway into a kitchen that was so suburban you thought you’d stepped into a film. It certainly was no match for your tiny apartment where you can sit on your bed and also open the oven at the same time. There was metres of space around you, but still photo frames and children’s paintings littered the room. 

You walked by, eyes catching a wedding photo of Wanda and Vision and you felt guilty for drooling over the way the housewife looked in her wedding dress. You immediately put the frame down, walking to the bottles of wine that were stacked on the counter, twisting the lid open and refilling your own glass. 

You’re lost in thought when you hear the soft click of heels against the wooden floor. You turn and your breath hitches when you see Wanda entering the room, a glass of red already in her hand, her lips, slightly wine-stained curling into a smirk as she catches your eye. 

“Hiding in here?” She asks, her voice low and smooth as she steps closer. You swallow hard, feeling your heart race in your chest, silently praying that she couldn’t hear it thump against your skin. 

“Just needed a moment,” You say, trying to sound casual, “And you know.” You laugh nervously, lifting your freshly refilled glass as Wanda’s eyes beam at you with satisfaction. The tension between the two of you is palpable, almost like you could slice through it with a knife. 

“Hm, I don’t think you’re supposed to refill your own glass, especially not at your boss's party.” She teases humorously, watching the pink flush into your cheeks and you hold up your hands ready to apologise. “Ah, ah no need, you’re always welcome.” She reaches over you, your back up against the counter as her fingers graze your upper arm as she grabs for the bottle that you opened. You feel the spark of the touch, sharp but settling as you swallow hard. 

“It’s a lovely party Mrs Maximoff.” You compliment, not sure what else to say. She looks down at you, satisfaction lies deep within her green eyes. She waves her hand as if to say she’d heard enough of the small talk all night. 

“I couldn’t help but notice how close you and Natasha are.” She asks with genuine curiosity, but you blink surprised by her unashamed bluntness. 

“Natasha? No, It’s not like that.” You stammer, caught off guard as your bodies remain intensely close. “We work together, that’s all.” 

Wanda laughs softly at your nervousness, her eyebrow arched as she presumed you were suggesting that she would have a problem with it even if you were more than colleagues. “Relax, I’m not that kind of woman.” Her eyes gleam as she takes a deliberately slow sip of her wine, never once breaking eye contact. Your flush was creeping up your neck now, unsure of how to respond. “So no one special hm? Pretty girl like you.”

You couldn’t almost choke on your small sip of wine at the compliment, the liquid getting stuck in your throat. “No, I don’t, most of my time is spent taking care of Vision and work.” You’re not sure why you’d lied, you spent the majority of your time worrying about your job, spending less time doing what you were actually paid to do. There was something about her gaze that was making you feel strangely exposed to the point you were making stuff up on the spot. 

Wanda’s lips twitch in amusement as she swirls the wine around her glass at your response, “Oh trust me, I know what that’s like.” There's a wicked glint in her eyes, and just as you’re about to ask what she means, a familiar figure fills the doorway as Vision walks into the room. 

“Wanda my darling, can I steal you for a moment.” Wanda nods instantly, turning back to you and rolling her eyes, but not before stealing another slow and lingering glance as she steps past you, her hand brushing your arm, this time her fingers squeezing harder against your skin, lasting far too long to be deemed as innocent. 

“We’ll talk later,” She says softly, almost under her breath before she slips out of the room, leaving you standing in the empty space of her kitchen, breathless and more confused than ever. You gulp down the wine, refilling your glass once again. 

You noticed how quickly you were getting through drinks, beginning to feel yourself get a little more tipsy. You were now perched on a stool in the living room, listening to the drunk slurs of Natasha still rambling on about something that you lost interest in about half hour ago. Your eyes were still fixed on Wanda, who by the continuous scrapes on the back of her neck and quick breaths that she took when she walked away from someone, you could tell was also becoming slightly more tipsy. She was holding herself better than you, somehow her heels keeping her stable as she pranced elegantly around in that dress that was driving you crazy. 

The evening continued to progress and the effects of the wine were at the forefront. It was more than a gentle buzz now leaving your thoughts clouded and your steps a little uneven. You were trying so hard to leave Wanda alone, but the faint clicks of her heels against the polished floor kept bringing you back to watching the way her emerald dress clung to her curves. You watched as a faint shadow of discomfort clouded her usually poised face and you watched her try to slip away unnoticed towards the hallway, which would have been successful if you weren’t watching her so closely. 

The tension in her shoulders when she walked made you feel uneasy at your core. Instinctively, you followed her steps, slow and measured, trying to stay upright as you trailed her toward the bathroom. You stop in your tracks when you hear muffled voices behind the door. You could recognise it anywhere, Vision’s voice stern and sharp cutting through the silence.

“You should’ve paid more attention Wanda. Do you know how stupid you’re making yourself look?” His voice was low, but there was no mistaking the irritation beneath it. You could barely make out her response, but the emotion in the silence that followed was clear. Moments later, the door flew open and Wanda rushed out, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. She didn’t see you as she brushed past, head down, her heels clicking faster as she made her way to the back door, escaping into her back garden away from the crowd. 

You didn’t know what came over you, your heart racing at the sight of her as you followed her out into the garden. The cool night air hit your wine muddled brain and you spotted her sitting on the low stone wall that bordered the garden, her head in her hands, the hem of her dress sitting perfectly around her form. Her red hair was slightly messed from the evening, a few stray tendrils escaping the elegant french plait she had worn so proudly earlier, but you thought she still looked beautiful. 

You hesitated, questioning whether the wine was pushing you forward, but you needed to make sure she was okay. “Mrs Maximoff,” Your voice was soft as you stepped closer, she lifted her head quickly, her tear-streaked face turning toward you. In a flash, she wiped at her eyes, trying to compose herself.

“Hi, sorry it’s my turn to have a moment.” She tried to laugh, but her voice was hoarse and the lie was painfully obvious. 

You sat down beside her, keeping a respectful distance. “You don’t seem fine,” You reach out, placing a comforting hand on her knee. While the contact meant to be reassuring, it sent a jolt of electricity through you both. 

Wanda’s lips twisted into a wry smile, her hand overlapping yours as a silent thanks, “It’s just hard you know, You think you’re doing everything right and then it's suddenly not enough.” She let out a shaky breath, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m trying to be a good wife, a good mother, but I don’t know what I’m saying, you’d have no idea, you’re so young.” You could hear the wine laced tone in her voice as she continued rambling, but the genuine hurt was written all over your face. Without thinking, you reached out, brushing her hair back gently, your fingers lingering at the nape of her neck. 

“You are an amazing wife Mrs Maximoff, Vision is lucky to have you. And your kids? They’re lucky to have a mother like you,” You compliment honestly, letting your wine thoughts take over, “You’ve got them all plastered all over your house, It’s obvious how much you care about them.”

She paused, her eyes widening slightly, a mixture of surprise and hope. There was a flicker of something deeper in her gaze, and for a moment, it felt like the world around you both faded away.

“You think so?” Her voice softened, a hint of unexpected vulnerability breaking through. Yet despite it all, the tension hung tick in the air as she searched your eyes, her expression shifting. “You barely know me. How could you possibly think that?”

You felt a surge of confidence as you leaned in slightly, heart racing quicker than before. “I don’t need to know everything about you to see what kind of person you are.” You paused, letting your gaze roam over her face, the way the moonlight illuminated her features. “I can see good people from the moment I meet them.”

Her lips now formed a teasing smile, her eyes holding a certain depth that made your breath hitch in the back of your throat. They were flickering with something unreadable. She leaned in just an inch closer, her voice low and laced with flirtation. “Good people, hm?” Her fingers now create circles against the back of your hand, “Careful darling, you might find that I’m not as good as you think.” She tilted her head, deciding to go easier on your innocent face that responded silently to her teasing, “I can’t imagine a young, attractive girl like you could really mean that.”

You felt heat flood your cheeks, caught off guard by her compliment. You swallow hard, trying to keep your voice steady, though you were sure she could hear the slight tremble in it. “I do mean it. I might not know everything about you, but you’re more than just Vision’s wife or your children's mother.” You shifted closer, your heart pounding harder in your chest as you dared to let your gaze linger on her lips. “You’re something special Mrs Maximoff.”

Her face darkened at your words, her smile fading into something softer, more intense. She let out a quiet breath, every inch of your skin tingling with anticipation. Her thighs subtly began to squeeze together, every time you addressed her by her title rather than her name which she had introduced herself as, but you choosing to remain innocently respectful was driving her crazy. Wanda couldn’t help but imagining corrupting your innocent little mind, having you bent over for her while she fucked you dumb. 

“Special... is that what you think I am?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, dripping with curiosity and something else—something far more dangerous.

You nodded, the words caught in your throat as your pulse quickened, your heart hammering in your ears. Her fingers stopped their slow, deliberate movements and instead curled gently around your hand, her thumb brushing the side of your palm in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

Wanda’s eyes darted down to your lips, her breath warm and shallow. She hesitated, her voice now even softer than before, vulnerable beneath the weight of the growing tension between you. “You’re so sweet to me honey, and you barely know me.” Her lips now hovered inches from yours, so close you could feel the warmth of her breath against your skin. “I might not be the good person you think I am. What if I make you regret it darling.”

Your core trembled at how close her face had become to your own. The desire in her voice was slowly unravelling you, but instead of pulling away, you allowed the wine to give you the confidence to lean in further, closing the distance until your lips were almost touching. Your voice trembling, “I don’t think I could regret you Mrs Maximoff.” 

That was her final straw, she snapped the tension as she closed the gap between you with a soft, deliberate kiss, the kind that felt like a blow burn igniting deep in your chest. The touch of her lips was light at first, testing, teasing, but when you didn’t pull away from her advance, her hand cupped the back of your neck, tangling itself in your hair, pulling you deeper into the kiss. 

Your fingers instinctively gripped her waist, feeling the heat of her body through the thin fabric of her now bunched up dress, and for a moment, nothing else mattered but the way her lips moved against yours, her tongue swiping your bottom lip before taking it into her teeth and tugging against it, making you whine desperately against her mouth. 

Wanda pulled back slightly, her forehead resting against yours, her breathing uneven as she whispered, “I told you, I’m not as good as you think,” Her thumb brushed over your jaw, her lips ghosting yours again, a low, teasing chuckle escaping her, “But I could take care of you, you know that don’t you.” 

Her voice dropped lower, that familiar tone slipping into something more playful, more commanding, “Mommy knows how to make her good girl feel special.” 

Your pulse quickened again, heat flooding your body as her words wrapped around you. You were at a loss for words, you were particularly inexperienced and you’d never had anyone that looked or sounded like the way Wanda spoke to you. You could feel the arousal pooling between your legs, your mind reeling from the kiss, from her touch, from the way she held complete control. Before you could respond, the sound of footsteps approached from behind you.

“Well this is cosy.” Natasha’s voice broke the tension like a whip. You jerked away from Wanda, your heart racing as Natasha appeared at the edge of the garden, her expression one of amusement, but there was something dangerously possessive flashing behind Wanda’s eyes. “There you are,” She slurred, her hand reaching out to grab your arm and you could see Wanda desperately trying to not stand up for your defence, “Come on, let's get back inside gorgeous.” 

You were too stunned to resist as Natasha pulled you up from the wall. You glanced back at Wanda, your heart aching at the sight of her. She sat there, watching you with a look that was far more than just jealousy—it was something primal, something dark.

Your chest tightened with a sense of dread, knowing you were in deep trouble. You’d crossed a line, and there was no going back.

The rest of the night passed in a blur, but Wanda’s gaze never left your mind. You didn’t see her again before you left, and now, the thought of returning to work and seeing Vision—after kissing his wife in their own garden—was enough to make you feel dizzy.

That night, after you’d managed to find your way home, you felt a shameful amount of guilt and you couldn't sleep. Even as the moonlight spilled through the slats of your blinds, casting a soft glow across your room, your mind was racing. Every time you close your eyes, you see her. The way her lips had felt pressed against yours, the warmth of her breath, her voice, thick with desire, echoing in your ears.

"Mommy knows how to make her good girl feel special"

The words sent a shiver through you, settling deep in your core. Your body stirred, heart pounding harder as you recalled the way her fingers had brushed over your skin, the unspoken promise in her touch, the way her lips had lingered just a moment longer than necessary. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to push the thoughts away, but it was no use. Wanda was all you could think about, and the more you tried to ignore it, the worse it got.

Your hand moved slowly beneath the sheets, almost without thinking, fingertips grazing over your stomach as a small gasp escaped your lips. You hesitated for a moment, but the memory of her was too strong, too intoxicating. Your body ached with need, your breath coming quicker as you gave in to the desire swirling inside you.

You imagined her—her red hair falling in loose curls, the way her lips had formed into that teasing smile. The way her eyes had darkened with want when she’d leaned in close, her voice a low murmur meant only for you. "You’re so sweet…" her voice replayed in your head, as though she were there beside you, whispering in your ear. "But maybe I’m not as good as you think..."

Your hand slipped lower, and you bit your lip as a soft moan escaped you, your body responding to the thought of her, the memory of how she’d kissed you in the garden, her fingers so possessive, so commanding. Every touch, every word, was still fresh in your mind, and it made your pulse quicken.

You imagined her voice, soft and sultry, like velvet wrapping around you. "You’re such a good girl, aren’t you?" you could almost hear her purring, her lips ghosting over your neck as her hand trailed lower, just like yours was now. "I could take care of you, make you feel so good…"

Your breath hitched as your fingers dipped lower, finally giving into the need that had been building since that kiss. The pressure of your hand, the soft movement, made you arch into the sensation, biting your lip harder as the heat coiled in your belly. You imagined that it was her touching your clit, making you gasp carefully at the touch. The image of Wanda’s smile, her possessive gaze, fueled the fire, every thought of her pushing you closer to the edge.

"Mommy knows how to make her good girl feel special…"

Your fingers moved faster, the wetness between your thighs a stark reminder of how much she had affected you. You pressed your head back against the pillow, your free hand gripping the sheets as the memory of her touch consumed you. The way her voice had dipped, teasing and dangerous, the way her hand had lingered on your skin—everything about her had left you aching for more. Your eyes were closed, the image of her face hovering over you, that smirk cutting through you as she watched you fall apart underneath her touch. 

Your breath came out in soft pants, your body tense as the pleasure built, spiralling out of control. It was all Wanda—her lips, her touch, her dominance—everything about her had ignited something in you that you couldn’t ignore. Your hips bucked against your hand as you chased that release, imagining her there with you, whispering in your ear, telling you how much she wanted to take care of you.

"Good girl."

That was all it took. Your body tensed, your back arching as a wave of pleasure crashed over you, your soft moan filling the quiet room as your hand stilled between your thighs, shivering in the aftermath. The tension released in a rush, your body trembling as you slowly came down from the high, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

But even as the pleasure ebbed away, Wanda’s presence lingered in your mind, a constant pull that you knew would only grow stronger the more you thought of her. And you couldn’t stop thinking about her.

As you lay there, your heart finally slowing, one thought circled back in your mind, sending a thrill through you: this was far from over. You had tasted something dangerous, something forbidden—and you weren’t sure if you’d be able to hold yourself together if you got the chance to see her again. 

You woke up a few hours later to the sound of your alarm, hitting the clock you rose and was immediately drawn to the stickiness between your thighs from your activity the night before. You’d made such a mess of yourself to the thought of her, something that you had barely done before. Even without her there she made you feel so dirty and a part of you absolutely loved it. You decided to leave the same underwear on, enjoying how uncomfortable you felt sitting in the dampened fabric, a constant reminder of Wanda. 

Your head was aching from the alcohol you’d consumed, but you managed to find your way to your desk as the office settled into its usual afternoon quiet. You’d been struggling to stay focused all day and when Vision approached you earlier you felt your voice squeak, squirming in your chair as you felt your arousal grow just at the thought of his wife.

Once again, Natasha was hovering over your desk, finding reasons to brush her hand over your arm, her touch lingering in a way that sent mixed signals. You were trying your best to stay focused, but your distracted mind didn’t have the energy to shake her away from you. 

“I wouldn’t mind taking you out for a drink later, If you’re up for it.” She leans in, her voice low and teasing but unlike Wanda’s tone from the night before, she didn’t make you want to drop everything in order to go on an uncomfortably flirtatious date with your needy colleague. You felt bad leading her on, but your mind was elsewhere. 

Before you can even formulate an excuse, you catch a flash of red out of the corner of your eye, the familiar daunting sound of the click of heels against the laminated floor. Everything around you seems to freeze. Wanda Maximoff. You tense up, recognising her immediately before her mind catches up to you. She walks into the office, a few greetings heading her way from the other men sitting at desks closer to the door. Your mouth hung ajar slightly at her figure wrapped in an elegant dress. 

You try to maintain your composure, but as you watch Wanda glance around, her expression purposefully remaining neutral, yet you still feel the weight of her gaze land briefly on Natasha, who still stands too close to you. 

“I’m just dropping off some files for Vision.” Her voice is calm, smooth, but you can sense the underlying tension in the way her eyes dart between you and Natasha. 

“Vision’s actually out for the day, but I can take care of that for you.” You stand up from your desk, stepping towards her as you gesture toward the file in her hands, hoping to appear professional though your nerves are evident in the tremble in your fingers. 

Wanda’s lips twitch into a smile, her fingers tightening slightly around the folder as if she was considering whether to hand it over. For a moment, her gaze locks onto yours, and there's something intense, something dangerous simmering just beneath her incredible composed exterior.

“Are you sure? It’s important.” She says, her voice dropping with faux innocence, though the way her eyes linger on you sends a very different message. You nod, managing a small smile. 

“I’ve got it. You don’t need to worry.” You reach for the file, your fingers brushing hers briefly as you take it from her. That sends a jolt through your core and you can’t help but notice the slight smirk that pulls at Wanda’s lips as she watches your reaction. 

Natasha is standing behind you, recognising the obvious tension between you both. “Always so helpful, aren’t you?” She teases, but there's a sharp edge to her tone now. She steps closer to you, her hand lightly brushing your shoulder once again, as if claiming her territory in front of Wanda. 

Wanda’s eyes narrow ever so slightly, though her smile remains calm and composed. “I’ll leave it in your capable hands then.” Her voice is velvet, but you can feel the jealousy bubbling beneath her words. 

“I’ll make sure your husband gets them.” Natasha says, a harsh tone to her voice, accentuating heavily on the reminder that Wanda is married. The brunette continues to hover far too close to Wanda’s liking and you watch her gaze harden, her green eyes practically burning with unspoken possessiveness. The air between the three of you feels suffocating, and all you can do is stand there, caught in the middle, your heart pounding in your chest. 

Suddenly Wanda retracts her previous statement as she was about to leave, “Actually we need to talk privately,” She doesn’t wait for a response, her hand lightly gripping your arm as she gestures towards Vision’s office, “Now.”

The way she says it makes it sound less like a suggestion and more like an order and you follow her without hesitation, your heart racing as she sways her hips purposefully in time with the click of her heel as she steps. 

As soon as the door closes behind you, the atmosphere shifts. Wanda is no longer the calm, collected housewife she usually presents herself as. She turns to face you, her eyes darkening with something that was dangerously close to fury. Before you have a chance to greet her properly she shoves you harshly into the office door, the blinds to the door window already closed from Vision before he left. 

“What the fuck was that.” She spits at you, her voice dripping with disdain. She grips your jaw between her hand, forcing your face up to look directly at her, her thumb digging particularly hard into your cheek. “Natasha is a bit too friendly, don't you think?” She growls her name, her manicured nails scratching into your skin as she sputters her name. 

You blink, taken aback by the sudden change in her demeanour, yet there was something so intoxicating and addictive about it. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Didn’t mean to what? Let her flirt with you.” She leaned in closer, her lips almost brushing against your ear as her grip on your jaw tightened. “You think you can play around with people like her? You’re just a little girl, you don’t know what's good for you.”

Your heart raced at her words, the fire in her tone igniting a thrilling mix of fear and desire within your core. “You’re so young, so naive. You think you can handle this?” She steps back slightly, her eyes narrowing as she assesses your body trembling, wincing as she roughly tugs your face up further, making you uncomfortable. “You need someone to teach you, to take care of you. Someone who knows what’s best for you.” There was an edge to her voice, a possessiveness that sent shivers down your spine. 

You opened your mouth to speak, but she cuts you off. “No, don’t say a word.” Her voice was low, commanding, stepping in closer again, feeling the heat radiating from her fury. She leans into your neck, her grip tugging your head to one side as she licks a strong stroke up the length of your throat, biting into your ear lobe making you whine. 

“You need to learn your place.” Her other hand gripped your wrist, shoving you harder into the door, “Your place is with me, not that pathetic little whore.” You felt a rush of submission wash over you at her words. 

“Mrs Maximo-”

She delivered a sharp slap to the side of your face and you let out a sharp moan at the hot sensation spread across your cheek. “You don’t get to speak right now.” Her eyes flashing with a fierce protectiveness, “You are mine, you listen to me.” Her hand finds its way to your throat, gripping you so tightly she’d cut the oxygen completely off, your eyes fluttering as you went lightheaded. 

She loosens her grip, not letting you go, your head still flush against the door looking up to her with your innocent eyes. “You’re not ready for that type of attention.” She was looking at you now as if to be assessing your worth to her, “I will teach you to be good, how to belong to someone.” 

“But I want to make my own choices.” You plead, your cheeks flushed as her grip tightened harder than before, your throat caught in the whirlwind of her anger and jealousy. 

“No you don’t” Her voice had calmed and her grasp around your neck was now just fingers brushing against your skin, finding the curve of your jaw and gently caressing you. “You want me to take care of you.”

You couldn’t help but nod, the truth of her words resonating deep within you. You had wanted this since the moment you set your eyes on her, you just didn’t really know what this was before now. You felt your innocent leaking out of you in the form of your arousal dampening your already ruined underwear. 

“You don’t think pretty girl, just let Mommy think for you.” Her fingers like fire brushing against your heated skin, a stark contrast to the anger still simmering beneath the surface. “Aw, you like the idea of that don’t you.” Her breath was stern against your neck, “You’re so cute when you’re flustered.” Her hand brushing the pink flush of your cheeks, one side significantly darker from the slap you received earlier. 

“Now Mommy’s going to teach you how to behave.” She teases, finally letting go of your face and your throat and you breathe heavily in order to catch up with your racing heart race. You’re stuck flush against the door, watching as she packs up a section of Vision’s desk, tapping the top of the wooden surface, gesturing you to come and sit up on it. 

You do it immediately, but as you go to perch against it she grabs your thighs from underneath and roughly pushes you to where she wants you. Her hands bunch your dress up to your waist, revealing your light pink underwear, a little bow sewn in the middle of the hem. She also saw that you weren’t wearing tights, but thigh high socks and she scoffed at the sight of you. 

She cups your pussy, only again chuckling at the warm dampness that immediately soaked into her palm. “Honey you’re soaking for mommy.” She places more pressure into you, the heel of her palm pushing dangerously into your sensitive clit, making you yelp. You could tell that you looked guilty, immediately remembering how you’d ruined them a few hours before. “Have you touched yourself in these?”

You nod shamefully and she hooks her finger under the hem at the side, yanking them down quickly and removing them completely from your legs. “Did you get some big feelings, pretty girl? Tell me.” She bunched your panties in her hands, bringing them up to her face and inhaling your sweet scent before tossing them to the side. 

You could choke on her words, but when she pushed your thighs apart wider, standing between you, forcing them to stay open as she roughly pushed two fingers inside of you, immediately curling them upwards at a relentless pace you had never experienced before. “Tell me.” She warns dangerously, quickening her pace, wanting to hear the desperate shake in your voice. 

“There was a funny feeling in my stomach that night you kissed me.” You panted heavily, “I had to touch myself, imagining that it was you.” You sounded so pathetic but Wanda was lapping it up, her thumb finding your clit as you leant back against the desk, holding yourself up by gripping the opposite end of the desk. 

“When was this pretty girl?” Wanda asks, her motions now remaining a continuous pace now that she’d found the one level higher than it seemed you could take comfortably. 

“Last night.” 

“And you wore them today.” Wanda scoffs, her smirk dangerous and sultry, her green eyes dark as she starts thrusting hard into you. You nod in shame, your head hanging low as she scrunched your eyes at the rough contact against your bundle of nerves. “You’re filthy aren’t you, a filthy little girl for mommy.” 

“Yes Mommy, I’m your filthy little girl.” You could barely string sentences together, each word caught in a high pitched moan. You hear footsteps from outside the office, people walking by and Wanda stills her movements, pulling out of you and moving backwards remembering that she’d forgotten to lock the door. 

“You sound so pretty for Mommy, but you need to stay quiet.” She whispers, her own hand dipping underneath her dress, feeling the soaked fabric of her own underwear before pulling them off. You watch in awe as her black laced panties hooped at her ankles, she steps out of them, the click of her heels louder as they step back to the ground. She bunches them in her hand, her other hand grazing your lips, prying them open before slotting her dampened underwear between your lips, “For safe measure.” She smirked, you looked so pathetically desperate with her laced lingerie gagging you. 

You felt dizzy as the taste of her arousal leaked onto your tongue, you groaned at the sweet taste of her, but your groan was painfully muffled. She delivered a quick slap to your thighs, you opened your legs immediately and she pushed her fingers back inside of you, once again not giving you a chance to react before she was thrusting harshly into you. “You enjoy the taste of Mommy while I ask you why you’ve come to work looking like such a slut when you don’t work for me, but rather my husband.” 

You try to defend yourself, but no words come out as your tongue continues to circle the dampened fabric, barely able to see as Wanda adds a third finger to the other two relentlessly working inside of you. “Who are you trying to impress?” You shake your head at the accusation, no other way of getting your words across. 

Your core is trembling as Wanda harshly fucks you with her fingers, her nails now digging into your back, forcing you forward to lean into her chest. The new angle made her go insanely deeper inside of you, leaving you moaning loudly into her chest. Your head rested right against her breasts and you could feel her painfully erect nipples against your cheek through her dress.

As her thumb begins to draw torturous circles around your clit, the sensations are way too stimulating for someone of your little experience. You tug desperately at the buttons of her dress and she looks down at you while her wrist continues its same rough thrusts. “You wanna suck on Mommy?” You nod frantically at the assumption and she smiles at you, placing a gentle kiss to your temple, your emotions confused at the gentle gesture while her fingers were fucking you dumb. She removed her underwear from your mouth, draping them over the edge of the desk as a constant reminder that she could gag you if you mess up. 

She allows you to undo the top of her dress, managing to find your way to her soft porcelain skin, her breast perked upwards and you immediately latch onto her hardened nub. You whimper softly at the feeling of your lips against her nipple, using your tongue to softly flick over her breast, making it easier for you to manage the pace in which she was fucking you, her nails gripping into your waist, pulling your front flush against hers as your mouth refuses to let go of your natural gag. 

Each time her thumb flicked your clit so precisely, you whined against her nipple, the vibrations making her wrist pump harder into you. She felt you suckles getting harder, your teeth lightly grazing as you felt your core tighten around her fingers. “You’re close aren’t you princess.” 

You nod desperately, letting go of her aching nipple with a pop as you look up at her pleadingly. “Those puppy dog eyes aren’t letting me forget how you let Natasha touch you, only good girls get to cum when they want.” Then suddenly all contact was removed from you and you looked up at her with desperate confusion. She brushes her hand across your lips, your sweet arousal lingering on your mouth. 

“Mommy?” You say, your voice laced with confusion as you are left on the brink of your orgasm, your hips jutting uncontrollably to try and gain contact. 

“Mommy wants to taste you, I’ll give you what you want once I hear what I want from that pretty mouth of yours.” She says, her voice stern as she drops to her knees in front of you, her hands caressing your inner legs through those sheer thigh-highs that were driving Wanda crazy. She imagined having you in her and Visions bed, ankles lied to your wrists as you lied on your front before she fucked you senseless with her strap. But she was more than satisfied as she smelt your arousal in front of you, your wetness glistening against your skin and your perfect folds. She was obsessed with the way your pussy looked, so tight and neat, perfectly untouched. 

Wanda pushes her hair behind her ears, diving in to consume you, taking one long lick from the bottom of your slit, right up to the top of your trembling clit. She looked up at you, trying your best to sit so she could see your face, your eyes crunched and bottom lip between your teeth. “Who do you belong to?” She asks, before sucking against your exposed clit, protruding desperately as she clasps her lips around it.

“You Mommy only you.” You pant breathlessly, your feet digging hard into her back in an attempt to stay still and docile for Wanda. She continued to suck against you, pulling back, kissing an individual kiss against your bundle of nerves. 

“Who is not allowed to go near you.” She says, before diving straight back in, this time her hand reaches the top of your mound, stretching your skin upwards so her tongue could flick harshly against your aching clit, pushing you dangerously close to the edge. 

“Natasha.” 

With the name spoken, her teeth gently nip at your clit and you let out an exasperated cry of pain before she soothes it with her saliva, spitting softly onto your cunt so her tongue would glide effortlessly through your folds. She pulls back one more time, enjoying the sound of your worn out voice, still trying so hard to please her. “What happens if Mommy finds out something like today happens again.” 

“Mommy will punish me.” You gasp, your core burning as the orgasm twirled in your stomach, threatening to rip right through you as Wanda maintains her hold, leaving your clit completely exposed to the rough attack of her tongue. You were doing everything you can to drag out the feelings of pleasure and pain against your cunt, not wanting this spaced out feeling to end, you knew you’d do anything she asked, take anything she wanted you to in this moment. With the grip of her nails into your waist, her tongue relentlessly working you up you reach the point of no return, the inevitable orgasm ripping through you at an intense level, your skin felt like it was burning apart as her name tumbled from your lips, her tongue not once stopping. 

She continued until you rode out your high, your hips rutting against her tongue as she tried to hold you down, but secretly loving the feeling of your body not being able to control itself, knocking into her mouth over and over again. Once you let out your last heavy breath, Wanda emerged from under your bunched up dress, one final kiss delivered to your entrance before immediately grabbing you into a soft, gentle kiss that shared your arousal through your tongues sliding against each other. 

“That's a good girl, I think you learned your lesson.” Wanda smirks, pulling you into a careful embrace as your body shakes against her hold. “Now you go back out there and pretend Mommy didn’t just fuck you dumb in your bosses office.”

[spencerreidenjoyer]

please, please, please | spencer reid x reader

wc: 2.8k, rating: explicit/18+

tags/warnings: office sex, professor!spencer/student!fem!reader, age gap (20 years?), rough sex, blowjobs, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, title kink (being called sir), questionable relationship, dubious consent (they both want it but again it’s teacher/student so…)

a/n: read too many professor!spencer fics and decided i had to throw my hat in the ring. i feel crazy and i need him desperately. pls go crazy with me too. (ao3 link here!)

It doesn’t take an FBI profiler to notice how Dr. Spencer Reid fails to hide the way he stares at you in his lectures, his eyes always lingering on you even when he’s addressing the entire classroom. 

Maybe you’re just sensitive to his gaze, because he’s an extremely intelligent man whose attention you’re more than happy to have on you, given the fact that he is insanely attractive.

Maybe you’re just as attracted to him as he seems to be with you, because you absolutely preen at the attention Dr. Reid gives you in class, words of praise over your ideas often free-flowing from his lips.

Maybe because you know how hot you are, you shouldn’t have come into Dr. Reid’s office in a low-cut top and a short plaid skirt asking to discuss your final essay in his Criminal Psychology class. 

Both you and Dr. Reid know you’re more than capable of acing this paper, your in-class ideas clearly brilliant enough to impress Dr. Reid himself. And yet, you’re in his office, seemingly worried about how to get your thoughts across on paper. 

It doesn’t take an FBI profiler to notice how you’re positively bluffing, a little too eloquent to sound truly uncertain of yourself in your work for Dr. Reid’s class.

It doesn’t take an FBI profiler to notice the way Dr. Reid is staring at your tits in your top, eyes only flicking back up to your face when he realises he should be looking at you while you speak instead of at your… assets.

“Sir, did you catch what I just said?” You prod, very aware he most definitely did not hear you. You note how his eyes widen when you call him sir. 

“Um– Well, I–” Dr. Reid starts, but it’s no use. 

You stand up, putting your hands on the desk as you sigh, “Dr. Reid, I’m sorry if I’m boring you with my thought process.”

Your arms frame your tits just right, and you catch the way Dr. Reid’s eyes inevitably flit down to your cleavage. It’s so obvious when he looks back up at you, and you see his face redden. You quirk an eyebrow at him as a challenge of sorts, and he looks somewhat apologetic. 

Dr. Reid clears his throat. He avoids your eyes for a moment, as he moves to take off his blazer. “I apologise. I’m just… distracted at the moment.”

“I wonder why that is,” you hum, twirling a piece of your hair with your index finger, like you’re deep in thought. Then, like the already-obvious answer just hits you, you add, with a pout: “Oh! Do I distract you, sir?” 

“What are you doing?” Dr. Reid asks, and you can hear the way he’s trying to keep his voice steady, calm.

“I don’t know, sir,” you shrug. “Maybe you should share your thoughts with me.”

Dr. Reid blinks at you, takes the sight of you in. “Well, you’re giving me a hard time right about now.”

“Why?” You cock your head to the side. He closes his eyes and breathes in deep, just for a moment. 

Your professor’s tone biting, he answers candidly, “Your revealing clothing choice makes it difficult for me to focus. I didn’t expect you to dress like a slut when you were coming into my office for a simple consultation.”

Your sharp inhale is audible in the pindrop-silent room. Dr. Reid meets your eyes. He pauses for a moment, and you watch his tongue dart out to wet his lips. His eyes are dark. With a flick of his finger, he says, “Come here.”

You think of leaning over the desk just to fuck with him even more, but Dr. Reid looks so serious you think you might be in actual trouble. You scurry over to his side of the desk, standing next to him. He turns his chair towards you, and you can see the bulge in your professor’s pants. He’s big.

“You want this?” Dr. Reid says gently. It’s a loaded question. 

Pulling your lower lip between your teeth, you nod. “Yes, sir. I want you.”

“Good. Then get on your knees.” It’s a command, in a deep voice you’ve never heard from Dr. Reid in the past three months in his lectures. You hope your knees won’t bruise from the way you fall to them in a heartbeat.

“I didn’t think you would be such a slut.” Dr. Reid smirks, and it makes a shiver run down your spine. His hand reaches towards you, cups your cheek. He slaps your cheek gently, but the suddenness makes you gasp. “Fuck, you drive me crazy in class, but now I have you like this? I must have done something amazing in a past life to have you on your knees for me now.”

“Sir,” you exhale shakily. His touch is soft, his thumb stroking your cheek with a surprising sweetness. 

“Let’s put that mouth to good use, hmm?” Dr. Reid says, his tone warm, syrupy sweet. He reaches for his belt, the metal clink as he undoes it making heat quickly pool between your legs. The belt gets tossed aside and he unzips his fly, pulling his half-hard cock out. You watch as his large hand wraps around himself, as he strokes his cock absentmindedly. His eyes are only on you. Your body flushes hot with arousal.

Dr. Reid beckons you closer with a finger. You look up at him, and you take his cock in your hand. His eyes tell you everything you need to know. You lean forward to take him into your mouth. You wrap your lips around the head of his cock softly, the warmth of your mouth probably feeling like heaven as Dr. Reid moans quietly as you do. You swirl your tongue over his tip, tasting the saltiness of his precome.

His hand comes up to the back of your head as he watches you suck his cock. You’re kitten-licking at his tip, which doesn’t seem like enough for him. Dr. Reid pushes your head down on his cock, forcing you to take more of him into your mouth. He’s big, so the sudden fullness of your mouth coupled with the way he hits the back of your throat makes you choke slightly. You glance up at him. He’s smirking. 

“I’m sure you know how to suck cock, don’t you? Like this, sweetheart.” His tone is close to condescending, as the fist in your hair drags your head up and down on his cock. While it’s not like you don’t know how to please a man, Dr. Reid treating you this way makes you swoon – his teacherly mannerisms turning you on impossibly. 

You gag as Dr. Reid fucks your face down onto his cock, his groans mixing with your wet, choked noises. He clearly seems to enjoy this, using you how he pleases, uncaring of your own arousal. It’s so hot you feel like you might explode. You hope you’ll get more out of this than just sucking your professor off, because if he doesn’t reciprocate you might have half a mind to report him for unprofessional conduct.

But Dr. Reid is moaning into his fist, eyebrows furrowed as you blow him, and you’ve always wanted to please your professor; be it in class or right in this moment.

You reach up to grab Dr. Reid by his wrist, tapping his arm to get his attention. His eyelids flutter open, revealing his gorgeously deep brown eyes. He looks at you, slightly concerned. “What’s the matter?”

You swallow hard. “Sir, I– Will you fuck me? Please? I want- I want to feel you inside.”

Dr. Reid closes his eyes for a moment, breathes through his nose. “Holy fucking shit,” He murmurs to himself, before he says, louder, “Okay. Yes. Fuck, you’re so sexy.”

You don’t get up from your knees, not just yet. You look up at him, hands in your lap, waiting for him to tell you what to do. You smirk up at him. Dr. Reid sighs, rubbing his face with his hand, and says, “You little minx. Get up on my desk.”

He extends a hand to help you up, your legs shaky from being on your knees. You look behind you to figure out how to get yourself onto the desk, but Dr. Reid is also on his feet now, and he hoists you up onto the desk, easily getting between your spread legs. You steady yourself by placing your hands out behind you, and shudder when Dr. Reid’s big, warm hands grab at your thighs. He squeezes at the flesh, before one hand comes down to your clothed pussy. He swipes his thumb over your clit, over your hole, and he tuts. “You’re so wet already. You must be desperate.”

You shudder. Dr. Reid’s touch is not enough to feel good, as he barely teases you over your panties. “You should do something about it, Professor.”

“I will,” he says. Dr. Reid exhales, looking down between where your bodies are pressed close, his hard cock pressed against your cunt. “Look at what you’ve done to me. You’ve ruined me.”

“Sir,” you say sultrily. “You should fuck me now.”

“I will,” he repeats, his hand on your hip. He looks you up and down, and then Dr. Reid’s hand is sliding across your thigh, his fingers slipping up the hem of your skirt. You feel calloused thumbs teasing at the waistband of your panties, feel them dip past the elastic to pull them down. 

Cool air hits your cunt, as Dr. Reid slides your panties off your legs. He’s looking down at you, between your legs, clearly enjoying the view. You clear your throat, and he looks up at you, almost sheepish. He says, his voice cracking slightly, “You’re gorgeous.”

You smile. “You’re not so bad yourself, Dr. Reid.”

“Yeah?” He laughs. “I’m glad you think so.”

As you talk, Dr. Reid has mindlessly started to rut his cock along your leaking cunt, your steadily-flowing slick making the slide easy. It’s so good, even just the friction of your professor frotting against you. You hold back a moan, looking up into Dr. Reid’s eyes.

“Sir– Oh, fuck,” you moan, as his cock slips inside of you with the way he grinds against you, your hole letting him in too easily. You’re so wet that he’d just slipped in. The feeling stuns you both, wet heat around Dr. Reid’s cock. He’s still rocking his hips back and forth, which pulls him out of you and pushes him back in. The head of his cock pushes back into you, and you both moan. You cry, “More, Dr. Reid.”

Dr. Reid steadies himself as he starts to fuck you, the movement of his hips shifting as he thrusts into you proper. There’s a practised ease in his thrusts, confident as he takes you on his desk. Your head falls forward, hair in your face, as your body takes in the feeling of your professor’s cock buried inside of you.

“You feel so good,” Dr. Reid grunts, his cock fucking in and out of you. He’s filling you up just the way you need it, his thickness stretching you out so deliciously. You clench around him at the praise, and his hips stutter. “So tight for me, sweetheart.”

And then, you can’t explain what you do next. You can’t help yourself, as you wrap your arms around him and bury your face into his neck, smelling his musky perfume and sweat. You whimper. You feel so good you don’t know what else to do with your body, but Dr. Reid doesn’t push you away. One of his arms wraps around your waist, his hand on the small of your back feeling so warm through your thin top, even though you’re feeling so hot you could explode. 

You feel yourself being pushed onto your back onto the heavy wooden desk, Dr. Reid’s weight pressing down on you. Like this, you feel his cock press inside of you impossibly deeper, and it’s so good you feel like screaming – you don’t, obviously you can’t, but you muffle a moan into his shoulder instead.

“Such a good girl,” Dr. Reid murmurs softly, his cock punching deep inside of you. Each of his thrusts sends electric pleasure up your spine, through your nerves, and you’re tearing up from how good this feels. “Fuck, I wish I could hear you scream for me.”

You whimper, a broken cry pressed against his neck. “Dr. Reid–”

“Oh, I know, sweetheart,” Dr. Reid coos softly. “You’re doing so good, keeping it down for me. So good for me.”

You don’t like feeling so pathetic, but Dr. Reid makes you feel safe even while you’re vulnerable, while he’s fucking you on his office desk. You sob, “Dr. Reid, it’s too good– I’m gonna cum, I– please–”

“Come on,” he grunts, his voice laboured as he pants. “Cum for me, my darling.”

Your gasp is louder than you’d like it to be, in a professor’s office of all places, but you feel too good to remember to keep it down. You shudder through your orgasm, unable to control the way your body reacts to all the pleasure given to you. 

“Fuck,” Dr. Reid blurts, his cock sliding out of you faster than you expect. You whine, but Dr. Reid is cumming all over your cunt, thick, hot spurts all over already-slick skin. “Oh, shit. Fuck.”

You’re thankful Dr. Reid didn’t cum inside, only because he didn’t have a condom on. You feel like a mess, but Dr. Reid’s looking at you like you’re a goddess. You feel his softening cock resting on your thigh. You want to go again, to feel him inside of you again, but perhaps that’s too desperate. 

When his head is clear, Dr. Reid is quick to step back, reaching into the desk drawer. 

“Sorry, let me just–” The commandeering, dominant Dr. Reid you just met is now gone, back to his slightly silly, bumbling self. He takes two wipes out from the packet of wet wipes he had pulled out from the drawer in his haste, but his hands are gentle when he wipes you clean. His touch is soft, sweet, and you feel so special in his hands. “I’m sorry I made a mess of you.”

You chuckle. “Dr. Reid, I’m more than okay with it. I think it comes with the territory.”

He smiles, albeit a little awkwardly. “Yeah, you’re right. I just don’t do this often, I suppose.”

“Oh, please. As if you don’t have other students throwing themselves at you too, Dr. Reid,” you laugh, waving him off.

“I do, but I’ve never done anything with them. Even if they try to proposition me, I tell them to leave my office. I’ve only… It’s just you.”

You’re stunned for a moment, blinking up at him. “You… Seriously?”

He frowns slightly. “Does it seem like I sleep around with my students often?”

“No! No, I just– I didn’t expect that. I thought you would be more… experienced? Considering how readily you let me… seduce you. I guess.”

“You’re definitely convincing,” Dr. Reid smiles. “Besides, I think you’re really special. I’ve never had a student like you.”

“Oh,” you say, because what else can you say in this scenario? Should you say anything else? It’s starting to hit you now, the implications of what you’ve just done walking into your professor’s office like this. “That’s… flattering.”

He tilts his head, brows furrowing. “Your pause seems to imply you don’t really mean that.”

“Oh, no, Dr. Reid, not at all, I–” You shake your head. “I’m really flattered that you think I’m special, I just– I’m not sure how I can navigate this. We’ve had sex, and it’s really hitting me now that I should not have seduced my professor because that’s definitely a violation of conduct, and–”

“Hey, relax,” Dr. Reid says, putting his hand on your shoulder. You breathe in deep. Dr. Reid looks at you warmly, and says, “I know we probably shouldn’t have done this, but I couldn’t resist you. And besides, it’s already done. We’re close to the end of the semester anyways. If you– I– If you want to continue this… outside of campus, I’d be more than happy to.”

“Dr. Reid,” you gasp, shocked that your professor would even be interested enough in you to suggest something like that. A relationship, outside of class? Or whatever it is he was thinking of. Frankly, even if Dr. Reid wants to meet once a month just to fuck, you’d take whatever you could get, especially with a man as gorgeous as him.

“Call me Spencer. Please,” he smiles. “Outside of class, at least.”

You grin. “Okay, Spencer.”

[astralnymphh]

CALLING ALL FANFICTION AUTHORS!

please reblog this. i've talked about this twice before, but obviously not everyone has seen it. i am calling for anyone who writes fanfiction or posts about a certain game/show/universe in any connective manner to please, please- PLEASE, copy this memo below comprising links to supporting palestine, education on the situation in gaza, and a must-need for those who engage in TLOU tumblr; links regarding the creators (neil druckmann) zionism, and how the plot of tlou2 is based on the israeli occupation of palestine. i don't care if what you write seems "insignificant" or "small" in the grouping of larger fics. no. everything that is not related to palestine in any form NEEDS these links. because, when we stray away from reblogging, or writing up our own posts in support of palestine/sharing journalists stories/etc. even for a SINGLE piece of writing, we could be missing people who are unaware (which, shouldn't be the case atp, but..) and fucking especially because in these fandoms, fics are the most popular thing. not reblogs about palestine, unfortunately; there are so many fanfiction accounts who very clearly don't give a fuck about the whole situation, seeping in silence, posting fics during strikes, not taking accountability for it now, so on and so forth. please, for the love of all that is good- CALL THEM OUT! people gaining hundreds of notes, tens of reblogs, supportive comments on a post that completely disregards what is happening SO BOLDLY right now, should irk you. i swear, if i see one more fuckass "i didn't know!" apology from an author who is CONSTANTLY on tumblr, REGULARLY posting fanfiction, i'm going to fucking lose it. if you are on tumblr to begin with, being this active- you have time to reblog. actually, educating yourself and reblogging is way quicker than writing up fanfiction of any length. are you fucking kidding me? you are laughable. comical, not real, and i have nay an ounce of respect for you. ever. but besdies that; the memo. i want everyone to copy this, or make something similar. put this above your summaries, authors note, whatever comes before the writing. every post you make should link back to supporting palestine, cause you never know how many eyes it will reach. it could change a lot of things. on pc, i believe copying it completely will preserve the links, but i'm not sure if mobile will. again. do whatever you can to add it. don't be lazy. put this in ur masterlists/navigation too.

for all fanfiction authors:

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸

READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

for tlou fanfiction authors:

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸

READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS.

you may add what is necessary, i wanted to keep it short for attention span sakes, and to avoid people skipping it entirely, and so on. i may edit these, fix up anything, but again, if you're using them you can edit them however. as long as you are linking anything in general, that is what matters. thank you, love from aestra. from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸

[ovaryacted]

HOMECOMING

PAIRING: Jackson! Joel Miller x afab! reader || WC: 1.8k

SYNOPSIS: After a long day of patrol, Joel comes home later than he said he would be back. You are just happy to welcome him back into your arms.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: FLUFF. Suggestive content - 18+. Established relationship. Soft & affectionate Joel Miller. Ambiguous age gap (Joel is in his late 50s, reader is 25+). Mentions of early pregnancy. Cute stuff. Banter and teasing. No use of y/n.

A/N: Hey there, been a while. In case y'all forgot, yes I do still write LMAO. This is a little something that I wrote miraculously on my free time, and it is my first Joel Miller piece. I'm also slowly getting back into writing so pls be nice! I did originally write this with the new Pedro Pascal picture as Joel in mind, but I'm a gamer Joel type of girl at heart so that's what I went with. Hopefully, it is enjoyable for those who choose to read it. Any likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated! Dividers by @saradika-graphics.

➣ TLOU was created by a zionist and is based off of the Israeli occupation of Palestine. Please refer to this link to learn how you can help the Palestinian people.

NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST | AO3

Night fell over Jackson, soothing and quiet as it usually was. You’d think after some time, you’d get used to the stillness that often consoled others in a world full of unsettling clicks and gunfire, but you found yourself troubled with the calmness that followed once the sun went down. The change of the seasons propelled a temperature shift outside; bitter winter exchanged for the rebirth of spring, which hopefully meant the sun would stay in the sky just a little bit longer.

Your face nuzzled into the pillow beneath you, the material not yours to claim, but it wasn’t unfamiliar. Digging your nose further into the bedding, you subconsciously chased the faint scent of pinewood and gunpowder, one of the few things that eased your anxiety. It was a smell you got used to recognizing over the past few years, not that you’ve been keeping count.

Despite the warmth the sheets provided you as you rested on the left side of the bed, your body felt cold, missing a familiar set of strong arms and a welcoming chest pressing up against you. He had told you before he left for patrol that he’d be back before sundown, that was the plan anyway. But you knew better than anyone that stepping outside the protective gates of Jackson always left room for the unpredictable.

In the haze of your dreams, you faintly heard the click of the front door opening and closing, the floorboards of the stairs creaking with the ghost of muted footsteps. You stirred in bed, ears trained to pinpoint the noise, yet too stubborn to wake up entirely. A breeze entered the bedroom before you sensed something else sharing the space.

That’s when you felt the phantom touch of plush lips skimming along your hairline. If you weren’t awake then, you certainly were now.

“Joel?” A call of his name equivalent to a whimper at the sudden contact you craved. You caught the slight intake of breath and the exhale that followed.

“It’s me darlin’. Didn’t mean to wake you,” Joel spoke quietly, the peaceful baritone of his voice awakening you fully. As you sighed, you met his tired gaze with your own, bruised knuckles raising to brush your cheekbone affectionately.

“Things went okay on the patrol?” You questioned him, pleased that he was here with you in one piece rather than focusing on the fact that he came later than you’d like.

“Yeah, had to check something out with Tommy to be sure before coming back. I’m sorry honey, didn't want to make you stay up for me.”

Even if it was unintended, Joel felt guilty whenever he didn’t stick to his word. He was not much of a virtuous man, lived a large part of the past two-plus decades giving less of a shit about honesty and ethics. But when it came to you, it killed him when he couldn’t follow through on his promises, even if things weren’t within his control. The last thing Joel wanted was to upset you or make you worry, but no matter how many times he reassured you of his return, you still tried your hardest to wait for him to come back home, back to you.

“It’s okay, I’m just happy you’re here,” you blinked slowly as his voice filtered through the lagged mess of your head. Leaning your face towards his hand, you kissed the inside of his palm. “Go freshen up and come to bed; I’m cold.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he chuckled with a smile at your forgiveness, parting from you for a second and heading to the bathroom, not planning to make you wait any longer.

You watched his silhouette from where you lay on the bed, fluttering your eyes closed at the sound of running water. When the door opened again, Joel’s broad figure returned wearing a worn-down flannel and some fleece pants he had snagged long ago.

“Scoot,” he jutted his chin to gesture to the right side of the mattress, your side, suggesting to reclaim his on the left. Shifting to the right, you let him slip into the bed feet first, hauling the sheets to cover the both of you. A bulky arm wrapped around your waist and tugged you close to him, your body molding to his like a missing puzzle piece.

“Not too far now,” Joel grinned as you nestled right into his warm chest, seeking his attention and attempting to siphon more of his warmth. It takes you off guard how your nerves instantly settled once you had Joel near you again. In his arms, that was where you belonged—protected, loved, safe.

“I missed you,” you mumbled, eyes shutting to breathe in his typical musk. One of his hands cradled your lower back, thumb running circles into your skin.

“I missed you too, darlin’. Too damn much.” Joel kissed your forehead, drawing lines up and down your back with his fingertips.

His hand moved again from behind you to the front of your body, palming your stomach protectively. A smile crept up on his face as he felt your tummy under the material of the flannel you stole from him, the only thing you preferred for pajamas. The gentle curve of your belly was not yet prominent enough to be overly detectable, but he knew what you carried. Precious cargo. That’s what he called it after you both adjusted to the shock of adding to Jackson’s current population count.

“Still feelin’ sick?” Joel asked you in the room’s darkness, his eyes shifting to watch over your facial features. The moonlight illuminated the edge of your jaw and the roundness of your cheeks, and his chest ached at the thought of witnessing other growing changes over the next couple of months.

“Sometimes. It bothers me, but nothing I can’t handle.” You reassured him the best way you knew how, having to rely on Maria’s advice for all things related to childcare and Ellie being your new overly protective guard and nurse when Joel wasn’t around.

If someone had told you that you’d find yourself alive after the apocalypse in a safe community and pregnant at that, you’d consider them crazy. Yet here you were, carrying a man’s child when you least expected it, a man years older than you with memories of a reality you couldn’t experience or remember. But you didn’t mind; the end of the world didn’t leave much room for strict morals anyway.

Make the most of it. You don’t know when you’ll miss something once it’s gone.

Joel had told you that after the first few patrols you had with him once you adjusted to Jackson, growing comfortable with the stoic and quiet man who grabbed your attention everywhere he went. He shared stories of a time before the world fell apart, discussing things like watching the sunset, listening to music from artists you’ve never heard of, and sweet treats he missed tasting. Things changed after the seventh patrol together, where you saw him smile for the first time after successfully hunting some game for the town.

That night, one thing led to another. It started after some drinks, a hungry and messy kiss on your doorstep that led to clothes on the bedroom floor, and hands pawing at one another. You woke up the next morning with an arm wrapped around your waist and his nose rubbing the back of your neck.

Simply put, you haven’t left since.

“Oh, I know. Can handle a whole lot, strong woman you are.” Joel taunted you a bit, his memory fleeting momentarily and recalling the spitfire you always were with him in particular. He could never seem to tame your spunk and attitude, but he grew to love it like the rest of you.

“Mhmm, real strong, if you ask me.” You held his gaze with a gleam of mischief, bringing your body closer to his wide chest and tilting your chin upwards, silently asking for more than a cuddle.

“You tryin’ to tell me something I don’t already know?”

“I don’t know. Am I?” You were a tease, always have been, jerking Joel’s chain more than he cared to admit. 

“Those hormones are messing with your head, darlin’. Got you acting feisty,” he smirked, shifting nearer to your face.

Curious hands reached up to curl through his thick, graying curls. The contrasting streaks along his temple became more noticeable as time passed, matching the graying beard you’ve come to love and adore. He hesitated to let his hair grow out initially, thinking he’d look too much like his younger brother. Much convincing later, paired with hiding the shears, you got the desired result, and now you were lucky enough to enjoy the fruits of your labor.

The kiss was velvety as it was intimate, your tongue lining his bottom lip before he groaned, granting you entrance into his mouth. You swallowed the rumble he released, drawing a path of your touch from his neck down to his lower abdomen. Antsy fingers itched to skim the waistband of the fleece that concealed him, reaching close to the hardness you felt before he seized your hand away.

“Aht aht, no. As much as I want you there, it’s bedtime.” Joel didn’t necessarily want you to stop. Hell, if it were up to him, he’d let you go to town on him however you wanted. But his energy levels were dwindling, and all he wanted to do after a long day was get some proper rest with you in his arms.

“But-”

“Sweetheart, if you let this old man sleep, I’ll wake you up to a real nice surprise in the mornin’.” It was an effortless proposition, easy to keep you at bay until the next day and enough to curb your insatiable appetite.

“Promise?” You beat your lashes at him, knowing the last thing Joel would do was deliberately not provide for your needs, even if that meant having to keep up with you physically.

“Pinkie swear.” Joel gave you another peck before letting you get comfy against his chest once more, cuddling into him as much as your growing belly would allow without being squished. You started to drift off as sleep called to you, listening to the gentle rhythm of soft beating in your ear.

“Breakfast too, Miller.” You murmured to him, peeping how he laughed in the dark with his eyes closed. The pleasant and lively sound made you smile and your heart pound. 

“Oh, I’ll feed you. Don’t worry your pretty little head about that.”

The peace in your bedroom matched the serenity that fell over Jackson. Now that you had Joel wrapped around you, you didn’t mind how quiet it was. So long as you have him, you can handle anything that comes your way.

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

[kitkins13]

shared from Click's subreddit:

Trump actually cheated and there's time for a recount but we need to act NOW!

https://www.reddit.com/r/TheClickOwO/s/KTdyrF1AdD

idk how accurate any of this is but if even some is true I really hope something can be done

(post text is below the cut)

Not enough people are talking about this and there's still time.

Trump did actually cheat and someone compiled all the evidence on twitter: https://x.com/Espaking2/status/1854287198331515005

Edit:

If you don't have twitter, this will show most of the thread but may not have the entire thing: https://threadreaderapp.com/thread/1854287198331515005.html

People are reposting and saving it because from what I saw in the comments, Elon has been deleting any evidence against trump tampering the election.

- Trump said a few weeks back that he didn't need anymore votes, that he had more than enough.

- Trump also said he had a 'trick up his sleeve' to win.

- A bomb scare was called into areas where voting was taking place, so people would flee the areas and not vote.

- Ballot boxes were then set on fire by trump supporters.

-20 MILLION Ballots went missing. People only just got emails today about their ballots going missing, their signatures suddenly not being accepted, or some outright being destroyed if they didn't vote for trump.

- Trump has a long history of lying, cheating, blackmailing and bribing people to get what he wants.

Kamala was in the lead to win but literally after these ballots were lost and after the russian bomb scare, somehow trump ended up with the highest republican vote in over 20+ years.

- Russian software used for rigging elections was found being used.

All of the evidence is in that tweet but I've also saved a copy of everything in case Elon attacks that post too. There's a link to contact the white house and to (politely) demand a refund due to the evidence of trump cheating:

https://www.whitehouse.gov/contact/

Submit directly to the president.

Click the first option, select your reasoning as election security.

State these pieces of information as a paragraph:

-32 fake bomb threats were called into democratic leaning poll places, rendering polls to be closed for at least an hour

- a lot of people reporting their ballots weren't counted for various reasons that are not very sound seeming (signature invalidation, information that vote counter could not have had)

This all occured in swing states (PA, Nevada, Georigia, ETC.)

- This is all too coincidental that these things happen and swing in his favor after months of hinting of foul play

- Directly state that an investigation for tampering/fraud is required, not just a recount

Again, there is not much time, please, please, please make this spread like wildfire, there's still time to do this!

(trigger warning, SA

(trump is not a good person. Aside from a history of the above and dodgy legal activities, he also has a long history of SA towards women and children. Trump is a convicted p*dophile and project 2025 will strip away the rights from anyone who isn't a cis white man.

Please, please, please spread this information, read through the twitter evidence thread and share it. There's still time to demand an investigation but we have to act NOW

[addledmongoose]

Best of 2023 Good Omens Fanfiction

This is my list of the 20 best Good Omens fanfiction works I've read in 2023.

A few notes:

These are all complete works; there are no WIPs in the list.

Please feel free to let me know if a link stops working

It's not an ordered list. That would be far too difficult.

You'll probably recognize some of the most popular ones. They're popular for a reason, after all, but I hope you find something you haven't yet read.

The majority are full-length works, but there are definitely some shorter pieces.

These are certainly not the only good works I've read, but they are the ones I'm most likely to read more than once

Click the Keep Reading to see the list

If you're the author of one of these, first off, thank you! But second, if you want me to add your tumblr name to your story, let me know, and I'll edit.

This first section, all the stories are canon-compliant or canon-adjacent. In other words, it's at least somewhat set in the Good Omens universe.

a lighthouse (burning) (108K; Rated M)

This one is canon-adjacent and set in the 19th century. Aziraphale goes to a lighthouse to figure out where all the lighthouse keepers disappeared to, and Crowley follows along. This one is a bit of a spooky mystery along with the romance, and the writing style is simply beautiful. You really get a sense of being trapped in this lighthouse in the middle of nowhere.

***

The Grindr Logo Doesn't Even Have a 'G' In It (79K; Rated E)

It's honestly hard to remember that this one isn't human AU, but they're still just as angelic/demonic as ever. Aziraphale joins Grindr and starts texting (and then sexting) with a charming young man. It's no secret to the reader who this new hookup is. This story is genuinely funny at times. I like the funny ones.

***

The Whole Damned World Seemed Upside Down (103K; Rated M)

This is one of the best reverse omens stories I've read that isn't technically a reverse omens. Crowley wishes things were different after leaving the bookshop, and the universe gives him his wish. He finds himself in a world where Aziraphale hates him, Death has trouble taking lives, and basically everything you knew about the world of Good Omens is upside down. It's very funny. It uses inline footnotes (which is good, because it has a LOT of footnotes), and Death is hilarious.

***

it's a new craze (5K; Rated T)

Another one that seems like it should be human AU but isn't. Crowley and Aziraphale start up a podcast after the Notpocalypse and gain a loyal fanbase who can't figure out if they're a couple or not. They often forget who their audience is and often reference events in their shared history that make no sense to the humans listening.

***

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a demon in possession of a mobile phone, must be in want of attention (6K; Rated G)

And yes, that is the entire title. Another funny short story where a couple of podcast hosts receive a call from a certain angel whose demon trapped himself in his phone and won't leave.

***

In Mixed Company, or the Corporate Retreat of Heaven and Hell (52K; Rated M)

I've read this one at least three times, and it's probably my favorite of all. Every 300 years, Heaven and Hell share a company retreat on Earth during which angels and demons surrender their celestial powers and hold retreats. It has a great new angel friend of Aziraphale's; Hellish Powerpoint presentations; Gabriel being annoyingly chipper; and Aziraphale and Crowley sneaking around like teenagers trying to find some alone time.

***

How To Woo A Demon (24K; Rated T)

Aziraphale researches demonic courtship rituals and starts implementing them in order to convince Crowley he wants to take their relationship to the next level. Crowley is very confused by Aziraphale's actions. Another cute, funny one.

***

Factory Settings (107K; Rated T)

This one is famous for coming out practically as S2 dropped, making people think whoever wrote it (the author is anonymous) had something to do with the production of the show.

This is the only one I'm going to say anything negative about. There are a lot of spelling errors and typos in it. It needs a hard editing pass. Despite that complaint, I devoured this story as fast as I could scroll. It's that good, and even knowing all the errors are there, I'll probably still re-read it. I'm usually pretty picky about errors like that, so for me to overlook it and even recommend it, means I really liked it.

Crowley gets reinstated as the angel, Raphael, with no memory of his time as Crowley, and Aziraphale struggles to return him to his demonic self. It's heart-breaking and wonderful and I absolutely loved it.

***

One Night In Bangor (And the World's Your Oyster) (17K: Rated E)

Much like In Mixed Company, Heaven and Hell come together for a corporate retreat on Earth. In this one, some totally random demon who's name definitely doesn't rhyme with Bowley created a wager in Hell to see which demon could bed an angel first.

Another funny one. This time, a lot of the humor comes from the demons doing their best to pick up the angels with really bad pickup lines.

***

We Only Said Goodbye with Words, I Died A Hundred Times (9K; Rated E)

If I could learn to write even half as good as this, I'd be ecstatic. The emotions the author packs into this story are mind-blowing.

Crowley receives a cursed amulet that creates an ever-increasing need for the person he wants the most and goes to see Aziraphale.

***

To reveal my heart in ink (29K; Rated E)

Aziraphale starts writing letters to Crowley by mail. The letters they exchange slowly get more and more explicit.

***

Pray For Us, Icarus (66K; Rated G/T)

The author wrote this one as a series, so each one varies in chapter count and rating, but they tell a single, contiguous story.

This was the first long-form GO fanfiction I read, and it was way too close to the ending of S2. I really should've waited a while, because holy cow, is this one heartbreaking.

For three hundred years, Crowley has been reincarnated over and over as a human with no memory of his past. Aziraphale has spent those three hundred years trying to restore him to his true self.

The author, Atalan, is probably one of the best writers on the site. This story is stunning in the quality of its writing, in the pacing of the story, and in the emotions evoked. I normally don't like being sad (like I said, I like the funny ones), but I've saved this story off to make sure I always have it.

***

Pretend For Me (53K; Rated E)

In a panic, Aziraphale tells the archangels that he survived hellfire due to his soul mixing with Crowley's because they're in a romantic and sexual relationship, but now they want them to prove it.

I'm a sucker for fake relationship stories, and there aren't a whole lot of them where the characters are still angel/demon, but this one is. It's another fun one, though a bit more angsty than some of those I listed above.

***

The following are all human AU. Good chance you'll recognize all or most of these.

Married At First Sight (147K; Rated T)

One of the most recently completed stories in the list, this is a fake relationship story where Aziraphale and Crowley join a reality show that marries complete strangers off to each other. Their new marriage starts off on a less than idyllic foot and they decide to fake it for the show. The author is a master of making you want to scream "for fuck's sake, just talk to each other, you walnuts!"

Probably one of my favorite fake relationship stories.

***

Postcards From Paris (12K; Rated G)

The author, ghostrat (@mrghostrat), is a fantastic writer of human AU, and it's worth going through his entire backlist (and read his current WIPs, too).

Crowley moves into his Mayfair flat and starts receiving postcards addressed to the previous tenant from one A.Z.F., who is in Europe hunting for bizarre bibles and rating wine. Sweet and fluffy and the perfect antidote if you've just been on an angst binge.

***

Or Be Nice (151K; Rated E)

I stayed up until 6:30 in the morning reading this one, crashed for three hours, then read until I finished it. Then that night, I started it again.

This is, without hesitation, my all-time favorite human AU. It's funny. I love the author's version of the characters, and I will probably end up reading it again in just a few months. I probably already would have if it wasn't for the length of my Mark For Later and Subscription lists.

Crowley and Aziraphale are neighbors who get into a noise war. They both have their reasons for their actions, though to be honest, Crowley is a bit of an ass at first. Once they really start talking, though, they are absolutely wonderful together.

Even if you've never read a human AU, I recommend at least giving this one a try.

***

What We Make Of It (Shotgun Wedding) (213K; Rated E)

This is the third charlottemadison work on this list. 15% of this list is just this one author. That's how good they are.

Aziraphale works as an English teacher. Crowley is the guardian for his nephew, Adam, and works for a school testing company. Crowley can't risk his job dating his nephew's gorgeous and charming teacher. Unless...

Crowley comes up with a crazy plan. Now he just has to convince Aziraphale to go along with it.

Again, another very popular human AU. One thing I love about this story is how there's a lot less angst between the two characters, and how they both really care for Adam.

***

Slow Show (95K; Rated E)

The very first human AU I read. Didn't even think I'd like that specific genre until I read it. Now, as you can see, it's about half of my reading list.

This is an actor AU. Aziraphale (named Avery here) and Crowley are actors working together on a new show. Avery is an award-winning, straight-laced, well-respected actor; Crowley is a mess who immediately falls head-over-heels for him and somehow has to get through the show without letting his (apparently straight) costar realize that.

***

South Downs (76K; Rated E)

Another actor AU. This time, Aziraphale is an openly-gay actor, well-respected for his period drama work. Crowley is a once-blackballed actor who jumps at the chance to star in a gay Regency romance with Aziraphale in the hopes it can restart his career. The trouble is, Crowley is struggling to play the romantic lead opposite a man.

I love the growing friendship between these two as much as the romance. I love how comfortable and confident Aziraphale is here; and how caring he is toward Crowley's growing awareness of his sexuality.

***

This one doesn't really fit either category, so I'm putting it here.

The Rose and the Serpent (56K; Rated M)

By the same author as Pray For Us, Icarus comes a GO retelling of Beauty and the Beast. Aziraphale is sent off by his older brother, Gabriel, into the forest to be held hostage by a giant snake in a cursed castle. Turns out, neither the snake nor the castle are what he was expecting.

Light-hearted and with very memorable characters, the relationship between Crowley and Aziraphale is simply stunning. I love how Newt and Anathema are used here. The quality of this one is as good as Icarus, and I loved this one so much I could easily have read 300K more words.

***

And bonus: mine!

The Beginning of the End (Again) (79K; Rated M)

The first fanfiction I've ever written and the first book I've written in a decade. I had the first two chapters in mind after finishing S2, and the story grew from there. I actually have a sequel in mind after I finish another, separate fake relationship story.

Crowley spends months drowning his sorrows after Aziraphale accepts the Supreme Archangel position, until a group of demons shows up one day and tells him the Second Coming is nearly upon them, and they want him to stop it. Turns out being a demon isn't much fun if there are no humans left to tempt.

Aziraphale has spent these last months in Heaven looking for ways to stop the Second Coming while mourning the way he and Crowley left things. After discovering that Hell's minions have been tasked by the Metatron to escort the son of God on a tour of Earth in preparation for his Second Coming, he hurries down to see what's going on, fearing the worst.

Instead he discovers Crowley escorting the Messiah around Earth. Is his demon taking the son of God on dates?

[hg-aneh]

HI!!

so this post of yours got me thinkibg:

And I found a whole entire AMAZING FIC LIKE ITS SO GOOD 👌 where that’s the plot

idk if you can see the link but if not, it’s called Factory Settings on A03 so if your interested please give it a look I BEG

it’s legitimately so good

Oh, I've been reading it, it's currently in my bookmarks actually, and it's pretty lovely

but I thiiiink that fic has Crowley turn back into Twinkliel instead of having them both exist at the same time, which is what my idea was skbfs

I know there's a similar fic to that that was written before s2 came out where Crowley gets split into his demonic and angelic halves (find it here), buuut this isn't what this is either

Think of it as Aziraphale accidentally making a new Twinkliel out of an older record of Crowley in the Book of Life

Like restoring a file

The point here being that they're not the same person, Twinkliel's name was,,, lets say "smudged", and on top of it, Crowley's was written.

Aziraphale tried miracling the "smudge" to combine with Crowley's current name but he ended up separating them and making Twinkiel part 2 electric boogaloo

Crowley's still the same (aka still has memories of his fall and life as an angel) because his current name encompasses those experiences already

If you're an artist you can see this as restoring an older, unfinished version of a piece in paint tool sai whilst still having the finished piece file open in another tab

[alphajocklover]

Commissions, Rules, Story Index and Other Information ----

Commissions Information

I only have 5 slots at a time, but that may expand even more one day. I charge 1 cent per word. Below is a link to my ‘commissions page’ (it’s a google doc) with all the details, including a list of what I won’t do, what I definitely will do, and how to contact me. If you’re interested, please DM me and let me know!

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Firstly this is a Jockification blog. It’s mainly about turning nerds into alpha male jocks. That doesn’t mean I won’t do other transformations or go into other kinks. I’ve already done some slightly different things like the macro tf and the Muscle daddy tf stories, both of which I loved writing. But most of this stuff is going to be jock tfs. Just wanted to make that clear.

Now, onto what I absolutely will not do. These are off limits, and I’ll explain why too. I’m not here to kinkshame or anything but I write these stories for fun, and if I’m not into something then it’s so much harder to write about.

Anything that’s not 18+. I know this is a very controversial topic, and I want to be clear. I do not have issues with age play (although personally I don’t love to write about that stuff either). As long as there are no actual children involved in the making of an erotic piece of fiction, or you are encouraging people to actually do horrible things to kids, you can write whatever you want. But since it’s so controversial, and it is way too easy to write something that makes light of a traumatic experience, I would rather avoid that all together.

Rape. Once again I am not going to kink shame anyone. A lot of people have a rape kink, and that’s perfectly normal. As long as all parties are consenting and of age irl, you can do whatever you want in the bedroom. But once again it is incredibly easy to write something that offends and hurts people, and on a personal note I just don’t feel comfortable writing something like that. I’m not gonna claim that everything I write, with all the reality bending and changing identities, is perfectly consensual, but there’s a big difference between writing about impossible magic powers and writing about realistic rape, and I don’t feel comfortable crossing that line.

Beastiality and Animals. Once again not going to kink shame anyone. And I want to stress I’m not talking about furrys or pup play or whatever. I’m talking about actual beastiality. You can write and read whatever you want as long as it’s not hurting people, but as far as I’m concerned animals can’t consent, so I won’t be writing anything with them in it. I’m also not entirely comfortable with human to animals tfs. Those are just not my thing.

Bathroom stuff and Smegma. This one is less complicated. I just don’t write this kink because I don’t like it. Watersports and scat and smegma all do nothing for me. Just a personal preference.

Real person Fiction. Once again it’s nothing personal. Plenty of people love real person fiction. I just feel so awkward writing about real live people. So I avoid it. Fanfiction about characters is another story.

Inanimate and Body part TF. I don’t really understand why, but these types of transformations make me uncomfortable. Really it’s just my preference.

Entirely Female Focused TFs: I am a gay man, and have a harder time writing erotic stories about women. While I can write about straight sex and women, I prefer to keep men as the focus, or at least have them heavily involved.

Gender TFs: I know this will probably upset some people, but I’ve personally just never enjoyed gender change tfs. Perhaps I will experiment with it one day, but not now.

Racial Slurs: While I do like raceplay and racial changes, I will not include slurs I cannot reclaim in my work. 

That’s all there is for my big limits. If theres anything else you’re unsure of and want to check, just DM me. I won’t judge, the worst I’ll do is say no. I hope all this serious talk didn’t upset anyone. More stories coming soon!

Will update as needed!

Just a reminder that I am up for story suggestions, questions, and DMs. I especially want story prompts because I’d love the opportunity to make more stories for you guys. I’m also open for trades if anyone is interested

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Story Index

Below is a list of my bigger stories and ongoing series. I'll be doing this chronologically, and adding to it periodically! I'll be listing some kinks that are controversial or unusual for my blog next to each story they are in. I won't be marked G2S because I use that a lot. I hope this helps you guys get around my page better!

SuperNova TFs | A person makes a wish on a SuperNova

Older Brothers (My first story!) (involves incest)

Unmoved (involves bisexual sex)

Stereotypical

Professor to Frat Bro

Supernova Comedian (Political Play)

Wake Up | The true self awakens, and spreads

Wake up Bro

Wake up Pops

Marvel TFs | TFs themed around Marvel Characters. Not all connected

No longer a Spider, finally a Man (Implied relationship between a student and teacher)

Possessed by the Power of Thor (Giantism)

Like the Hulk

Like Wolverine

InstaJock TFs | A mysterious app that jockifies users.

InstaJock Introduction

InstaJock: A Small Glitch

InstaJock: On The Go

InstaJock: Details and Settings (Race TF, Asian)

InstaJock: Payback

Revert Mind

InstaJock: Preview

InstaJock: Research and Frats

InstaJock: Tricking a Thief

InstaJock: Regional

InstaJock: Secondhand

InstaJock: Girls

AlphaJock?!

InstaJock: Boyfriends

InstaJock: Double Friend Request (Race TF, Asian)

InstaJock: Sexuality

InstaJock: The Master and Mysteries

Alpha with a Capital A | A look into literal Alphas

Alpha with a Capital A intro

Alpha with a Capital A: Sexuality

Alpha with a Capital A: Alphas and Gender (Transgender Character and physical gender transition)

Gay Couple to Straight Beta Bros

Greaser Alpha

Alpha with a Capital A: Big bro and Lil bro

Asian Alpha Bro

Jock Studies | Coaches and their brainwashed Jocks

Jock Studies: Swimming Coach

Straight to Gay

The role of Coaches

Assistant Coaches and Baseball

Eye of Beholder (EB) Jewelry | Jewelry Company with a secret

Engaged

Science Teacher to Football Coach

EB Jewelry: New CEO

EB Jewelry: The New COO

AirBFnBF

EB Jewelry: My Friend and Gauges

EB Jewelry: Dog Tags and Brothers

The Best Club in Town | Gay clubs and their members are turned straight

The Best Club in Town

The Douchebag Revolution | Time traveling fight over your right to be a straight douche

Welcome to the Revolution

Douche Rehab

1,000 Follower Special, The Douchebag Revolution Begins

The Hometown Hex | The town where everyone is a jock. Everyone

The Hometown Hex

Baxter Beach

500 Followers Special: Wally's Visit

Made for This Town

The Hometown Hex: Exports

BDE: Big Dick Energy | Literal BDE causes changes

An intro to BDE

BDE: How it Works

BDE: Extreme Buildup and Infection

Retsam Mirror | Swapped with your selection. By force

Retsam Mirror

Trapped

My Uncle | Lore on my character, and his journey to save his Uncle

My Uncle

My Uncle: A Follow Up

Nick the Devil | A friend (Boyfriend) of my characters Uncle, whose a literal Devil

Nick the Devil

The Church | Evil Church converts people into new member

The Church (Semi-religious themes)

Potions Set | I gave an Actor a bunch of potions. I hope it works out...

Getting the Role

Camous | Those who change to fit in

Camous

The Master | The Man behind InstaJock and my Uncles Transformation. The Big Bad.

InstaJock: Going Viral (@occamstfs Occams 2000 challenge entry)

The Drunken Chameleon | A TF Bar

The Perfect Bar for You

Halloween TFs | Halloween themed transformations! Returns every October!

Personal Transformations | Transformations my character performs | references other stories

Miscellaneous Stories | Stories without a series or common theme

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I hope you guys like this! It took a lot of work putting this index together. If you have any questions or ideas, or just want to, dm me! Total stories: 99

[nogodsnomorales]

Know that I am going to get pretty serious here, as this post is about Punkflower. I am going to talk about the age situation, the blatant racism ABOUT this ship, and to also talk about the ship itself*. There is also some talk about the shippers/non-shippers + Punkflower antis in general.

[*nothing negative! just like.. discussing it as a whole, because everybody needs to be aware of some important things. the shippers, non-shippers/people on neutral ground, AND the haters/antis.]

There is a BIG wall of text incoming, but all of it is organized to its very best at what I could do!! I first wrote this in docs, I did my best to make it not a whole chaotic mess to read through. It's a big post, but there's a lot of spacing and some text is coloured, so it will be very easy to read.

This is a very detailed and THROUGH post, so it is slightly recommended to read on computer for the best viewing experience.

[It's not needed as you can still just read on your phone/etc, I do want you lovely people to have the best viewing experience possible.]

There will be an expand button, so I will not clog your feed and the tags.

TDLR;

Dear punkflower shippers,

your prayers have been ANSWERED. DO NOT WORRY ABOUT SHIPPING PUNKFLOWER NOW 🙏

punkflower shippers, do not live in fear no more, for I am here now.

Sincerely, 

tumblr user: godunforgiving

Edited Note (06/21); FYI, I am muting this! Read the edit change log at the end of this post for more information. If you have any concerns or inquiries regarding this post, do not hesitate and feel free to DM me!

punkflower talk/analysis(?) + talking about Hobie’s age

This entire post is a discussion of various things, of my own thoughts and opinions! Some of the talk is about the posts + comments I have seen other people say about this ship [mainly questioning and worried ones.] All of the pieces of information that I knew were scattered, so I wanted to gather all of what I could find, and put it in a singular post for those still worrying.

[Also where others can actually just refer to this post and just read thru here first, instead of having to spend a lot of time going through the Punkflower tag to desperately find info!]

I would have gotten this finished and posted days ago, but you know, usual IRL things slowed me down, and I had to spend my day in the ER yesterday, lol.. I’m okay as of now! Just have to take it easy, but I really did want to finish writing my ass off with this post, since I know it’s important to me and for many others out there.

Take your time to read through this, and please absolutely feel free to add any of your input/extra knowledge/anything that I should add onto this post. DMs can be the best, or just through the comments can suffice, because I can and will edit anything into this post [that is accurate aka there is backed up evidence/sources to go along with it.] If you do want to see something added here, just tell me and I'll see if I can manage!

I genuinely hope that this post can be helpful to you, as it will be helpful for me!

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Please know that; I will directly quote from many people, as all of them will be credited properly by being mentioned down below and leaving their username (that is linked back) with their respective quotes, because their own pieces of text really helped build this post! I cannot thank each person enough.

Do not be a piece of shit and go after or ‘witch hunt’ any of them. Respect their own privacy and being.

users mentioned (IOOA): @comfortingnightmare, @luvvnobo, @ghostspider-isms, @saltylemonade13, @artisan-is-bored, @bellamer, @uglynavel, @peachypea0ny (fyi, site is not allowing me to tag), @crownecromancer, @raspberryjars, @spideyzpoolsp, @hamiltonforpowerpoint

[If you are one of the mentioned people, and you want yourself to be removed or become anonymous, please let me know ASAP!]

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------—

Notes:

If you are colourblind (some of the text is coloured fyi! colours used are blue, pink, and purple), or have difficulty reading text due to it being too small, or can't read the font, etc, please let me know! I can give you a google docs link of this entire post that is best suited for your needs. No, you will not be a burden to me. Your needs are very important, and I will want to assist with the best that I can do with that!

I, godunforgiving, am on a mix of a positive + neutral ground on the topic of shipping Punkflower. I absolutely adore the comic!Punkflower, and I am fond of ATSV!Punkflower with the way I view it. Reason why I said neutral, know that I am not against the ships by any means!! But I guess why I say that is because there wasn’t a lot of canon media to consume [ATSV!Punkflower], and I want more [Also note that I have NOT seen the movie yet.] I don’t usually ‘do’ shipping when it comes to various franchises, I guess it’s mainly just not my thing? But I do know that I’ve come to like Punkflower.

I do not ‘do’ discourses, nor do I intend to actively join them! This is my first time doing something like this / this being my first ‘discourse’, yet I hope for it to be my last. I made this post with the pure intention to help the Punkflower shippers. Do know that!! I know that many people do not like the topic of discourses, but this one and the problems I’ve seen revolving around Punkflower, I just have to say something. Bc idk if anybody else is going to [with the way I did this post], considering the mess that occurred days ago, but someone has to and has to do it properly.

I am autistic, so I may process words + information differently, or even ‘incorrectly’. So if a sentence doesn’t make sense, due to perhaps my misuse of grammar, etc, please do not hesitate to ask/reach out, and I can do my best to re-explain it to you.

Negative comments [and comments directly to this post where the person is actually spreading misinfo], will be deleted. Know that if you decide that you disagree with this post, then okay! I am not bothering you, just as I hope that you will revert to ignoring me, instead of hating on me. Please have the common decency to just be kind or even don’t say anything at all, and carry on with your day.

If you have any concerns regarding this post, do not hesitate to reach out to me.

this post was originally inspired by a friend, then originally created for @feuille-morte, but it is finished for the rest of the punkflower fans, ily all. take care of yourselves!! anything for these cute silly little guys ok (and the entire punkflower nation)

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let’s get started with an introduction.

“what is Punkflower?”

Punkflower is a slash [aka queer] relationship between two black male teenagers, Hobie Brown and Miles Morales. Usually, it is perceived a romantic relationship, as some other people only see the pairing as a platonic duo and such. I do not know more forms of Punkflower, but I will use the 'main' two forms in this post. Comic![SG!]Punkflower [SG is Spider-Geddon, a comic series first released on Sept 2018], and Across the Spider-Verse aka ATSV!Punkflower.

Think of it as the same ships with the same characters, but in different fonts.

Comic!SG!Punkflower has existed for nearly 5 years now, likely first existing sometime in late 2018 to early-mid 2019. Both Miles and Hobie are very close in age in the comics, at around 16 to 17 years old. Away from Spider-Geddon(?), but still on the topic of comics, Hobie is still 16-17 in the comics.

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“people are saying Punkflower is a problematic ship!”

The main [and probably only] source of this misinformation, is from a clip that was cropped to be posted with the intention of spreading heavy misinformation (We will get into that next.) So, as far as I am aware, and know; Punkflower antis are throwing around p/do allegations, because they hate the ship and they are outraged with people enjoying it. This hate is clearly rooted with racism, and homophobia. So, no, Punkflower is not a minor x adult ship!

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------—

“the interview talk, what happened, and what is actually real?”

If you’ve watched the interview, you can easily see that they were talking about the brainstorming process of developing Hobie's early ideas for his character. A director mentioned that in the early concept stage, Hobie was originally going to be 19-20 [This wasn’t even our Hobie, but Prowler Hobie.]

A person cut a very small clip of the mentioned interview, and uploaded it, a clip that was EXTREMELY out of context. 

The uploader cut out the part explaining that Hobie’s ‘original’ age had changed as his character was being developed.

So from this, and no context given, a lot of people were instantly quick to hate; since it was on purpose to make the entire ship, AND those who enjoyed the ship, look extremely bad. What happened was not okay, yet this disgusting behaviour is at an attempt to be justified [and those people are trying to justify literal racism and homophobia.]

“19-20 thing that the directors mentioned were Hobie’s early designs ideas but those eventually changed as his character changed. Even one of the directors said its up to interpretation plus even his VA was all hinty towards Gwen and hobie so honestly its up to you what his age is" - comfortingnightmare

As soon as the clip came out, I had started to see a number of people saying that, apparently, Hobie looked like he was in his 20s to his 30s** (while also throwing subtle/discreet hits towards the Punkflower ship), but this was after the clip came out.

**Literally saw someone on Tumblr say that he looked like 28, and trying to shut down the idea of Hobie being a teenager. Like be completely serious with me right now..

Things don’t quite add up here. This was because of WHAT Hobie only looked like, and now it just has to be racially motivated, as there are no solid explanations or reasonings for their behaviour and disgust. Those people just look bad [as they should.]

So, no, Hobie is not 19-20. Another director had confirmed that Hobie’s age is UP TO INTERPRETATION.

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[TLDR; The interview got taken completely out of context from a clip that made people start throwing SERIOUS accusations left and right.. Since more people actually later found out that the clip was taken out of context [instead of doing research], the situation died down, but people are walking on eggshells now. The haters were being desperate likely because Punkflower is a black queer/mlm relationship, since there is no solid explanation for this hating.]

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------—

“So.. what can we interpret Hobie’s age as?”

That is where I come in! I have many reasons that can help you decide what Hobie's age is to you. And those many reasons are speculated on Hobie's age being 16-17, as many users already guess that Hobie's age is equivalent to a teenager's age. I also believe this idea, as there are many things that already support this thought process.

[But if you like.. (god, I hope nobody does) go through this list and conclude that Hobie is 18+ and continue to ship that Hobie and 15 yr old Miles (or any of the minors).. GTFOH.]

1. Hobie Brown in other media (I’m talking about the comics for instance) is commonly shown for Hobie to be a teenager at either 16 or 17 years old.

“Hobie is in fact labeled as ‘badmouthed teenager’ since 2014 and is 16-17 in the comics and that just because he doesnt have a confirmed/canonical age in ATSV, hes still in the age range of a teenager (16-18)" - luvvnobo

2. Topic of the spider-bite. 

ATSV!Hobie is likely to be 16-17 years old (18 at the latest), meaning that he would have been bit at the ages of 13-15. So IF Hobie was bit 3 years ago / at 14 years old, then he would be 16-17.

Realistically, this really could have happened, considering Hobie’s living conditions! [aka what led to Hobie getting bit by a radioactive spider in the comics.] If he indeed gets bit at 14 years old (like how Miles and Gwen got bit at that age for example), then either 16 or 17 yrs old.

Again, with how he lived; if he got bit at 13 = 15-16 years old in crrnt events of ATSV. [If you don’t know of Hobie’s conditions, in the comics I’m pretty sure he, like, basically lived on the streets as a homeless teenager]

“During the "Spider-Verse" storyline, the Earth-138 version of Spider-Man is revealed to be Hobart Brown, originally operating as Spider-Punk. He is a homeless teenager who was transformed by a spider that was irradiated as part of President Norman Osborn's toxic waste dumping.” - Spider-Punk: Wikipedia

The topic of the bite / needing to know if Hobie was (x) age when he got bit, isn’t very serious, as he is already grouped with 3 kids.

3. It would be unlikely (and also weird) for a four man crew to be 3/4 teenagers and 1 adult;

WHILE ALSO implying that the mentioned ‘adult’ and one of the mentioned teenagers could’ve had something going on. [Even if nothing really happened (keyword = implying), and how Pavitr treated it in that way, implies that Hobie isn’t that much older than the three.] [I would have kept this reason combined with the Spider bite topic aka reason No.2, since it’s actually referenced off of pastelnightgale’s post, just that this paragraph alone is solid enough as a separate reason.]

4. Hobie’s mannerisms.

Note, I haven’t seen the movie, but I have seen many clips. From those clips, he’s definitely a teenager at least, it made me feel like Hobie was 16 or 17 years old. I’ve asked two of my brothers; they said that he definitely was their age [both being 17.]

“my two cents on the age debate is like. hobie doesn’t have the vibes of an adult even if his age is up to “interpretation”. like i’m eighteen and bro has definitely gotta be younger than that. he makes my “stupid younger sibling” sense go haywire." - ghostspider-isms

5. If you look up “how old is hobie brown”

You will already see many people speculating that Hobie is likely to be around the same age range as Miles and Gwen [if not a bit older.]

Again, Hobie is already 16-17 years old in the comics. 

“in the spiderverse, we have seen that it is common for most spiders (gwen and miles specifically) to get bitten around 14. hobie states he’s been spider-man for three years, meaning he’s most likely 16-17." - artisan-is-bored

6. “Like if Hobie is really 19+ then why is it only a problem with Punkflower?? Wouldn’t the whole love triangle thing be a problem????" - saltylemonade13

Yes. It would be a SERIOUS problem. It also would make the other ships [Chaipunk, others with minors in them] very problematic and illegal ships. But Hobie isn't 18+.

7. Ageing down process happening to various characters in Spider Verse, and Hobie non affected?

If Gwen and the other spiders are aged down in Spiderverse, then it doesn’t make sense that Hobie was not aged down like the others.

8. Hobie literally hangs out around teenagers.

If an adult is constantly hanging out with other children, then that obviously would be the first problem. I wouldn’t really need to keep talking any more about this one. Because if a 19-20 year old was spending a majority of his time around young teenagers, ages ranging 15 through 17, and not really with anybody else his age or above, then yes, that’s already weird.

“it’s also implied that miles is jealous of gwen and hobie. why would the directors make a key plot point of the story be that hobie is a grown ass man hanging out with a bunch of teenagers? and that he might have a thing with one of them???" - artisan-is-bored

9. Genetics do not matter within age.

This is one of my most common quotes by now. Hobie is indeed very tall at almost 6 ft, yes. No, it does not mean that he is above 18+ years old. Hobie can be over 6 ft tall and still be 16-17 years old.

I have seen so many teenagers at drastically different heights, but still be the same age. Many of them being over 6 ft [180 cm], and still being in my age range, and having met a 5’10” 8th grader [aka 13 yrs old] years ago. Both of my previously-mentioned brothers are 6 ft and over 6 ft, yet they are only 17.

“people can look one age and be another." - artisan-is-bored

“hobie’s description as a character. hobie is a foul mouthed TEENAGER. that has been his description for the past five years." - artisan-is-bored

10. “how do i tell them Punkflower has been a thing since 2018 or 2019 and they have interacted in the comics (they are close in age)" - luvvnobo

11. “He has to be an adult, because he goes to pubs!!” Let’s be absolutely HONEST here.

“dude is BFF’s with the Riri of his universe, she can probably whip up a fake ID in no time and even if Riri isn’t in the Spiderverse, he still gets around and knows people. he’s definitely cool with someone who makes fake ID’s." - bellamer

What bellamer said. To add onto this, a pub is different from a BAR as well.

If you look up “what is a pub vs bar” your first result will be this.

To also add, all bars in England aren’t considered pubs.

“If you’re 16 or under, you may be able to go to a pub (or premises primarily used to sell alcohol) if you’re accompanied by an adult. However, this isn’t always the case. It can also depend on the specific conditions for that premises. It’s illegal to give alcohol to children under 5." From the official GOV of the UK website

But literally, let’s be honest here, Hobie would already know at least one person who will help him get in a pub, if he cannot do so himself. If Hobie is constantly going to pubs, then that does not mean he is getting drinks 24/7 when he is there, unless stated otherwise. Pubs focus on serving food and to give drinks [upon request] to go along with the meal.

Before 1995, children under the age of 14 were NOT allowed in pubs in England and Wales. And Hobie is definitely by no means 14. He is likely 16, or 17. He can already drink, with adult supervision, at 16 in pubs. But we know that Hobie is no law-abiding Spider-man.

12. “Hobie wouldn’t be able to own his own place!”

“it’s a key part of hobie’s comic backstory that he used to be homeless. once again, the breaking the law point still stands. wouldn’t be surprised if hobie bought an apartment with a fake ID, was squatting, or was staying in some sort equivalent of the community center that he used as his main group’s operation headquarters in the comics.” - artisan-is-bored

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I do not think that another director/anybody who worked on the movie will come out and say that Hobie is actually 18+ at this point. I CAN be wrong in the future, but right now, he is not, and there are my reasons for why I strongly agree with the idea of Hobie being a teenager.

ALTHOUGH, even IF a director comes out and says that ATSV!Hobie is actually 18+, obviously all of the ATSV!ships with him and the other minors should STOP RIGHT NOW. But as of now [06/13/23 (when I first wrote this)], and from what we already know, I do not see anything wrong with ATSV!Punkflower and my views.

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The racism revolving Punkflower is disgusting.

I’ve seen a lot of people bashing Punkflower when the whole misinfo-hobie-being-19/20-situation occurred, but ONLY with Punkflower [from what I’ve seen.] I didn’t see any of this happening to the other ships that Hobie is in / shipped with Gwen, and Pavitr.

I have not seen any, quite literally nobody, complaining about any other ship that isn’t Punkflower, and it’s insanely overwhelming and confusing?? People don’t complain when it comes to Hobie x Gwen, but if it’s with two queer black boys? Huge problem all of a sudden.

“Love how when it was Hobie and Gwen no one batted an eye but as soon as people started shipping two black males together all of a sudden everyone’s disgusted and outraged” - uglynavel

“none of y’all had a problem w gwen and hobie, but when hobie started getting shipped with miles and pav? y’all got pissed. get your racist and homophobic head out of your ass. even if hobie IS an adult in the movie, that still doesn’t mean that shipping him with miles in the comics suddenly isn’t valid. newsflash, gwen is MUCH OLDER than hobie in his universe.” - artisan-is-bored

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Other quotes, that I wanted to point out, but I didn’t sort them into a spot;

“There are a lot more weird problems in the ATSV fandom, yet people are worried about Flowerpunk and whether Hobie is of age, or not. Those problems are full on grown ass people sexualizing Miles, Gwen, and likely more. There’s already stuff about Peter B. and Miles ship, and THAT is an active problem on hand. More people need to worry about all of that instead of a guy who has an up-to-interpretation age (but is strongly, likely, a 16-17 year old if not an adult.)” - peachypea0ny

“I can’t even enjoy comic versions of punkflower without me being called a pedo or having multiple fucking comments telling me over and over that punkflower is a proship.” - uglynavel

“I’m sorry it’s just really not fucking fair what In THE ACTUAL MOVIE it can imply something between Gwen and Hobie but the SECOND people started shipping two black boys together then it became a huge fucking problem, here’s the thing if Hobie is actually older and they never say that in the movie but imply something to the audience that him and a sixteen year old girl could possibly have something between them THEN THATS GROSS I DONT CARE HOW GOOD THE MOVIE IS! But Hobie is always, in other crossovers and his comics he is around 16, he has met Miles before in canon the ship’s not new, it was just small.” - crownecromancer (Edited to make sense, by me, godunforgiving.)

“punkflower is originally a comic ship, its been around for ages before atsv, its normal for shippers to crossover into different areas where the same characters are. he doesnt have an age on his wiki and why would he be said to have a love triangle with gwen if he WAS 19/20, idk why ppl have such a problem with punkflower but not with hobie and gwen??” - raspberryjars

“this is what happens when you believe in misinformation on the internet. no, there is no age gap, because hobie does not even have a canon age. if you watch the interview, instead of 10 seconds of it, he says it was early concepts of hobie. another director has confirmed his age is up to interpretation.. so. yall rlly need to stop with this, its weird asl. this whole thing was rooted in racism and homophobia, stop spreading misinformation I BEG.” - spideyzpoolsp

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Another disclaimer/notice;

PLEASE, PLEASE STOP BELIEVING IN EVERYTHING THAT YOU SEE!! EVEN IN TIKTOK OR TUMBLR!

IF it’s a piece of information that could be misinformation revolving around Punkflower or Hobie Brown, or anything, DO find out if it is real or fake asap!

I’m using a method that I remember from my elementary school that was constantly talked about [can’t believe I’d bring it up in a post about a ship years later], however it really does pay out and work anywhere else tbh. The “Stop, Think, Act method”.

STOP = Pause, if it distresses you; then take a breath to calm down, avoid doing anything on impulse aka don't do anything without thinking carefully beforehand.

THINK = Instead of the “what is the problem, what are the options, best path forward?” in the method itself, we will reuse this but change stuff up that can apply directly to this post. So after stopping and calming down, we will think carefully and review what we already KNOW. If it’s where the piece of information is easily seen/known as misinfo, then you are good. If the piece of misinfo is affecting something that we already know, then we move onto the next step.

ACT = “Proceed with the best option. Act carefully, and revise if needed.” The best option forward from thinking, is to do research, and make sure that it is actually real, and not misinformation with lies laced within. IF it is indeed misinformation, then it is the best to alert others, with proof.

If you are thinking “But why even mention that method??” The best example to use this method is with the age discourse blowup. A LOT of people believed in the misinformation very, very fast. What should’ve happened is that the mentioned method should’ve occurred early, to help prevent most of the freak out and its damages. But many users may not have thought of that, or even know the method, so it is okay. At least it calmed down a lot as of now, just that people are now likely afraid.

[Note; I am NOT blaming anybody!! I also freaked out a bit too, but I stuck to what I already knew, until I found more information. At first I heard “Hobie is 19-20!!!!” I figured that it must’ve been misinfo through what I already knew, because adding all of what I knew and this uproar of info, it just didn’t add up from what I alrd knew. but I still researched and did my homework!! Just that more people should naturally second-guess things that they are suspicious of and also be aware of that method and to apply it online, as it is already useful in real life!]

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------—

Wrapping this post up, finally.

It’s sad to see different Punkflower fans fight each other. But it’s also outrageous and annoying to see the plat!Punkflower shippers, who see Miles and Hobie strictly in a brotherly relationship, to throw the term ‘!ncest / pseudo-!ncest’ against the romantical Punkflower shippers.. Like holy shit, that doesn’t make you any better. Can people, please, stop throwing serious accusations against other people so nonchalantly?

These accusations are SO serious and life changing, even if it's pointed at the wrong person. But people are just too ignorant to realize that unfortunately.

“You see him (Hobie) as 19/20 who’s a big brother to the other spiders? Cool! You see him as 16/17 rebel teen amazing!” - hamiltonforpowerpoint

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End post.

Reblogs, likes, and comments of your own opinions of this post are so welcome!

Again, ily all and take care of yourselves!!

and again, if anything you think that should be added onto the post, let me know! have a great day everybody

A friend asked what’s up with the discourse, asked me to make a post, after hours of research - I absolutely fucking DELIVERED. Love you guys.

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Edit #1 (06/15); had to reformat some things since it just looked broken to me! Using the editor on mobile is a PAIN.. 0/10.

Edit #2 (06/16); an edit update! I rewrote some things (to hope to make the post sound more better), added some stuff in the notes section and some throughout the post itself, updated the crediting so the quotes used are credited and linked back to hell!!!! bc crediting others is awesome! and the post is also def over 4.2k words lol

Edit #3 (06/17); An anon told me that I was “misusing” the 'proship' term, so I edited the post. Proshitters can go to hell for all I care. To clarify, I am talking about problematic shippers. Edit #4 (06/19); oh my god 600+ notes?? i hope all of you are having an EXCELLENT month okay.. i love you guys <3 /plat

Edit #5 (06/21); I am muting this! I saw some people reply to this post, but I just do not have the ability to respond to them (Selective mutism), I did write “drafts” to them, but I do not feel like polishing it and responding. Just busy with other things, honestly! I may end up responding some time later, so yeah. If you have any concerns or inquiries regarding this post, do not hesitate and feel free to DM me!

Every once a few weeks I may check up on this post as well, until I stop altogether.

[ffc1cb]

happy to announce i’ve finally lost it and spent a considerable amount of time making a dragon age inquisition mod that lets your inquisitor use they/them pronouns. if there’s anyone out there besides me who wants to use it, here it is on nexus.

detailed description and personal commentary under the cut

update: as of 3.05 (may 3rd), the mod has been uploaded to nexus. see download link above for any future updates.

this is a mod for frosty mod manager 1.0.6.1. you MUST install the bioware localization plugin for it to work, otherwise the game won’t start. on fmm 1.0.6.2, the plugin is already built in, so you don’t need to worry;

this mod is a simple overhaul of the game’s base text; no changes were made to the actual voice lines. this mod also does not affect default romance flags (just like in vanilla game, you can only romance sera with a "female" inquisitor (or dorian with "male"), but the mod should, hypothetically, be compatible with other mods that edit romance flags);

you can install it at any point of the game. starting a new playthrough is not necessary;

works for all races and with all available dlcs;

along with the pronouns change, this mod changes all gendered words used to refer to the inquisitor to be gender neutral, i.e man / woman have been replaced with person or contextual variants. my lord / my lady and other similar titles have been replaced with messere (on the basis of this reddit thread);

some of the dialogue could've been mistakenly changed, since context was not always easy to parse. if you try this mod out, i’d greatly appreciate any help with pointing out my mistakes (blackwall’s romance in particular has given me the most trouble); additionally, i might have missed some lines in the codexes, since i skimmed through them very briefly.

i’ve no previous modding experience, so i went with the easiest option and, like i mentioned above, brute forced it and made a complete overhaul of the base game text as opposed to a pickable option i’d like it to be. ideally i’d love for this mod to be bundled together with this other one that switches pc pronouns (which was a partial inspiration for this mod). if anyone here has any knowledge on whether this is something that could be done, please hmu.

also, since in order to make this mod i had to read through the entire game text (it was torturous. not gonna lie) i collected some of my personal favorite bits and pieces along the way. if anyone’s curious, you can look at them here. there’s surprisingly many developers’ notes in there.

ps: this mod is free to use for all so this is not at all necessary, but if anyone is feeling generous, i have a tip jar.

[megamindsecretlair]

Hey fren! ✌🏾

Whenever you got the time, can we get a nice little piece with Kofi, Tyrone, or Trevante (your pick lol) where him and his girl get into bad. It leads them to be mad as hell at each other to where they aren't speaking for like a day or two.

And our man finally gets tired of the tension and decides to make things up, but our girl is damn sure good at holding grudges so it takes him a leeettle bit more convincing to get her out of her feelings.

Also, no rush if you do decide to do this one! Love you babes 😘💜

A/N: I hope this hits. What can I say, the anon inspired me. Please note that this is not Mr. Black.

Don't Forget About Us

Pairing: Tre x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Established relationship. Smut, FLUFF, PIV, oral (fem and male receiving), anal play, dirty talk, cursing, all consensual.

Summary: See ask. You reached a breaking point with your boyfriend. He was constantly gone, nose buried in work making you go to bed alone and tired and lonely. After a screaming match, you both need time to cool your heels. But not for too long.

Word Count: 6,841k

AO3 Link

A/N: It's not that I lied, it's just that I failed lmfao. I hadn't had plans to release this but well, I miss himmmm. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, reblog, or unhinged ask.

Taglist: @planetblaque @browngirldominion @notapradagurl7 @blackerthings @logansblackgf @henneseyhoe @my1onlysenpai @darqchilddaydreamz @badassdoll @playgurlxoxo @eggnox @abeautifulmindexposed @theyscreamsannii @melaninpov @mcdesij @kholdkill @blowmymbackout @theunsweetenedtruth @monaeesstuff @cocoeffects @soft-persephone @duckiesfairy @slippinninque @westside-rot @prettypink-princesss @thadelightfulone @the-crystal-one @miyuhpapayuh @thecookiebratz @twocentuar @esachicaa @enchantedillumination @xo-goldengirl @tranquilfandomer @we-outsiiiide @hihellogoodbyebruh @babybratzmaraj @yourofficialgal @liyaah02 @mochaaahooligan @ashleykeri @harmshake @amethyst09 @ciaqui @iv0rysoap @00aijia00 @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @luckygirlszn @thecapodomme @chaos-4baby @multiversefanfics @tvchi @kittyken006 @avoidthings @makayla171

For the first time, in a really long time, you did not want to get out of your car and walk through the front door. You didn’t want to spend another restless night worrying over your boyfriend. He was such a work-a-holic and you were tired of the arguments. 

The same old record scratch repeating over and over. You missed him like crazy. You wanted him warm and safe in your bed every night and you were sick of feeling guilty for wanting that. He would kiss you and make promises, but slowly, his word was losing its meaning. 

You groaned and dropped your head to the steering wheel. You could not stay out here for much longer. You knew that and yet your legs felt like lead weights. You couldn’t make your body move even though your mind screamed at you to move. You honestly didn’t know how much longer you could continue doing this.

You heaved another groan and finally got out of the car, the quick beep letting you know that your car was locked and armed. You walked up to the townhouse you two shared, entering through the front door. You walked inside to the lights on and music playing somewhere in the background.

You closed and locked the door, removing your jacket and hanging it on the hook by the door. You slipped out of your heels, sighing as that particular burden was removed. You followed the sound of the music to the dining room.

Your boyfriend stood there in soft black lounge pants and a black long sleeved tee to match. It molded well to his body, showing off his muscles. He smiled, instantly lighting up the entire room with that mega-watt smile of his. 

A gold chain rested against his chest and golden studs glinted in the dim lighting. He held out a glass of wine, cocking his head. “Hey baby,” he said.

You sighed, wanting to melt into his arms. Wanting to hug him and turn your brain off for the rest of the night. A surge of bitterness shot through you, coating your tongue in acid. But you swallowed it down. You didn’t want to pick a fight. Didn’t want to be that type of girlfriend. 

You smiled and grabbed the glass of wine from him and took a small sip. You felt awkward standing next to the man of your dreams and not knowing what to do. Whether or not it was okay to reach across that gap and touch him. 

You scooted past and looked at the dinner on the table. Steaming short ribs were covered in gravy, sitting next to a vegetable medley and seasoned mashed potatoes. It looked amazing and your mouth watered, momentarily forgetting that you were mad at him. 

Tre moved around you and slid your chair out. You thanked him and moved in front of it. He pushed the chair in as you sat down and then took his seat at the side of the table. He uncovered a bowl of salad, dishing some for you into the small bowl beside your plate. 

You smiled and began eating, falling into a familiar pattern. You spoke about silly things like your work and his, the crazy people there, or what your friends were currently up to. You spoke about your family and their latest shenanigans and Tre spoke about talking to his grandmother earlier. 

Safe, normal topics that didn’t disrupt the nice meal Tre prepared. You let yourself breathe for a moment, soak up the rare moment that he was home long enough to enjoy this. You laughed with him and you enjoyed seeing the little crinkle in his eyes. That devastating smile. 

You relaxed in the chair, taking a moment to appreciate the comfortable lull in the conversation. You swirled the last bit of wine in your glass on the table, watching the red liquid swirl. 

“You want some more?” Tre asked.

You smiled and shook your head. “I should probably get ready for bed, I got an early meeting,” you said. 

Tre sighed. “I get it,” he said. He looked down at your hand briefly when the shrill tone of his phone rang in the living room. 

You sucked your teeth while he cursed, grabbing his phone and looking at the caller’s name. It’d be so much easier if you thought he was cheating. That you could explain away in your mind. Men were dogs, it was what they did, blah blah blah. You would be hurt, you would get over it and move on with someone who actually loved you.

But no. You had to compete with four walls and a computer screen. You had to compete with spreadsheets and wet signatures and copy paper. How the hell did you beat something like that? Where would you even start? 

“I’m sorry, I thought I put it on silent,” he said.

“It’s fine, take it,” you said. You smiled and stood up, getting ready to clear the table. Tre placed his hand on yours, stilling your movements. You looked at him without looking into his eyes. Your eyes were focused on his lips, on the tight lipped grimace. 

“You don’t have to do that,” he said. 

“You cook, I clean. That was the deal,” you said, intentionally misunderstanding him. You pulled your arm but he didn’t budge. You sighed but refused to meet his gaze. His phone continued ringing and he cursed again, reaching out with his left hand to silence the ringing.

“Pick it up, Tre. Really, it’s fine,” you said. You yanked your arm once more and he let you go, let you bring the dishes to the kitchen. You hated doing dishes. But a deal was a deal. If you cooked, he cleaned. If he cooked, you cleaned. You packed away the remaining food, placing it in the refrigerator. You started filling the sink after plugging it, adding soap so it could bubble up.

Tre’s heavy footsteps entered the kitchen, feet tapping on the smooth tile. His massive frame took up your peripheral vision but you focused on the rising, steaming water. 

“You won’t even look at me anymore,” he said.

You choked on a laugh, not expecting that to shoot out of his mouth. You bit your lip so that you could stop, so that it wouldn’t turn into theatrics and hysterics. You swore you’d never be this type of girl. You swore and you swore. 

“You’re not here long enough for me to look at you,” you said. 

“That’s not fair, damn. I did all of this to spend time with you,” he said. 

You sighed. Feeling the oncoming headache. Was it even worth it? All you did was argue and yell around in circles. The yells like lashes against the wall. It was grating and nerve-wracking and you wanted off the struggle bus. 

But if you didn’t say anything, would anything ever change? Did you want it to? You watched the water foam and bubble up as it rose in the sink. You were leaning on the sink, feet crossed at the ankle. 

“Until the next time you need to go into the office. Or the next time your boss needs you to look at an expense report right this second, at three in the morning. Or you have this meeting or that meeting, your phone is constantly on. You might as well move into your fucking office. You never turn that shit off,” you said. 

You turned off the water, the sharp creak of the handle loud in the silent kitchen. Music still pumped in from the other room, but it was too muted to understand the lyrics. Knowing Tre, it was something sweet and sensual. Finding songs with the perfect mix of longing and need. 

You pulled on kitchen gloves when Tre’s phone rang once more. You smirked with no real humor behind it. “If you really wanted to spend time, you would have turned your phone off.” 

“This is my job, baby. This is what I get paid to do. This is how I afford all of this,” he said.

You rolled your eyes and started scrubbing the plate. You poured your frustration into getting every last stain off of the plate. Every last smear of gravy or mashed potato. “I know that! I’m not saying quit your job, I’m not saying never work. I just want you home at a decent fucking hour,” you said.

You put the clean plate on the other side of the sink so that you could rinse it off later. You started in on another plate. The action would be relaxing if you didn’t have Tre’s fucking phone going off. His boss was worse than a thirsty bitch after your man. You swore, there were some moments where you caught his boss looking at you like you were the devil herself. 

“Sometimes things come up that need my attention,” he said.

“At three in the fucking morning? What email or graph or fucking presentation is so important at three in the morning? When do you sleep? When do you rest?”

Tre growled, stepping closer to you. “It’s just for a few weeks while we try to finish up this contract. Our work on it will depend on if they’ll sign with us again,” he said.

You mentally said the words along with him. He’d said it so often, you had it committed to memory. “And what if you don’t have a few weeks? Because your body is breaking down, because you never rest, because you never chill? What then? You gonna rest when you’re dead?”

You glanced at him, at the pain in his eyes. His mouth was fixed in a grimace, eyes cold. No matter what you said, he was always going to think his way was the highway. He wasn’t going to budge. He was turning into a mountain before your eyes. You rolled your neck and continued washing off the dinner plates and wine glasses. 

“I’m trying,” he said quietly.

“No, you’re not. If you were trying, this wouldn’t be the first dinner we’ve had together –”

His phone rang and you laughed, shaking your head. What was the point? Tre cursed and picked up the phone, screaming into the phone. 

“I’m in the middle of something,” he said. He listened for a few moments, turning away from you as he continued with the conversation. You chuckled, amazed at how easy it was to sway him when it came to work. Yet you were pleading with him to do right by you.

Truly, why bother? Why fight for a relationship that he clearly didn’t want or need? You felt like you were a hindrance. Like you were in the way of him working himself into the ground. The sad part was that you just wanted him safe. And he just wanted to work. 

He was gone for about ten minutes, likely somewhere in your double home office, clicking away on his computer. You fell into a silent rhythm, washing the utensils and then rinsing off the dishes, draining the other side. 

You took off the kitchen gloves and then washed your hands. Tre re-entered the kitchen, sighing. “I’ll see you next time you decide to come home,” you said.

Tre smacked his lips. “I don’t know what else you want me to do here, baby. You said come home and I’m home. You said you wanted a home cooked meal and here it is,” he said. 

You rubbed your head. “I want you home! And that means your phone is off, your mind is not on work, and you are here with me. Otherwise–” You shrugged and shook your head, the words pushing against your tongue. Pushing you to speak. 

“Otherwise there’s no reason to be together.” You sighed, feeling like a weight had been shoved off your shoulders. You could breathe now that the words were out in the air. You couldn’t take them back. Couldn’t recall them. 

Tre’s face crumpled before he turned around, throwing his hands in the air. “What the hell? You want to break up now?” He asked and turned back to you.

“I don’t know! I’m tired and I’m mad and I don’t want to look at you right now. Go to work, stay here, I don’t care. But you’re sleeping on the couch!” You yelled. 

“Tell me if you’re trying to break up with me,” he said.

“I don’t know. You make me so mad and sad. And I’m tired!” You yelled. You brushed past him. He grabbed your hand, pulling you to a stop. You yanked your hand back. His phone rang and you turned to look at him. You looked pointedly at the phone in his hand and then at him. 

“I hope that you don’t look up five years from now, sad and alone, because you chose work over living your life,” you said. You left him in the kitchen, left him looking at you as if you’d slapped him in the face. 

Tears stung your eyes but you refused to cry. Refused to weaponize your tears to manipulate him into staying. You weren’t going to beg a man to stay. You made your desires clear, multiple times, over many arguments during the past few weeks. There were only so many times you could repeat yourself before you understood that Tre was doing this intentionally. He chose work over you and that hurt most of all. 

Over the next few days, Tre slept on the couch while you continued to sleep in your big, cold bed. You avoided each other as much as possible, both unwilling to look each other in the eye as your words echoed in the silent halls. 

You managed to move around each other, never speaking and communicating with sighs and grunts. He was spending less and less time at work, coming home earlier and earlier. It was something. But was it enough for you? Was he only doing this because he thought he didn’t want to leave you? 

You were coming home more often to Tre already having dinner started or finished, phone nowhere to be seen. Your tempers flashed hot and burned easily, so by the fourth day, you were not surprised that Tre was leaving notes for you. Reaching out to grab your hand sometimes or looking at you with rare heat in his eyes.

That was definitely something you missed these past few weeks. He’d been too tired or too worked up to hold and caress you. To make love to you like you missed. Your previous hurt was still etched into your heart and you weren’t sure what it would take to believe this version of him. Believe that he wanted to change and this wasn’t just an act. 

You were on the couch, curled up with a smutty book. Somebody had to get laid around here. You were in the middle of a juicy part, snuggling deeper into your emerald throw blanket as the words played a movie in your head. Tre’s thick thighs entered your field of vision. 

You glanced up and was met with gray sweatpants showing a very impressive bulge. Tre at rest was already a monster to begin with. Your eyes narrowed as you looked up at him. He grinned, scooting past you to sit on the couch. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, showing off plenty of tattoos that your mouth watered to trace with your tongue. 

Tre cleared his throat, taking off his glasses and man spreading by putting his feet on the table. You were already annoyed by that, but he cracked open his own book, adjusting his body to get more comfortable.

Was this motherfucker for real? A flush of heat made you grip the throw blanket tighter around your shoulders. You curled into your end of the couch, pulling your legs to sit underneath you. Your thick thighs didn’t allow you to stay in this position for long, but you hoped the building ache kept your mind off of the fact that he was being an ass. 

You focused on your book, on the heat and passion of the sex scene you were reading. But the actor you casted in your mind was quickly replaced with Tre. The female main character was swapped with you. You pictured Tre doing the same nasty things as the characters in the book. 

You sighed for the tenth time, getting hotter by each word that you read. The male main character started talking nasty, growling in the girl’s ear. Your body shivered, practically hearing Tre’s voice saying those same nasty things in your ear.

Fucker. He knew those sweatpants were dangerous. You huffed again and Tre cleared his throat. “Something the matter, baby?” He asked.

“Nope, all good,” you answered too quickly, but you didn’t care. You were having an entire crisis where you sat while he sat there so peacefully. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye to see the hint of a smirk on his lips. 

You loved a well-read man. You knew that he truly was reading and he also knew that it further turned you on. You huffed and adjusted yourself on the couch, moving your legs to the side of you. It relieved the burning ache in your thighs and calves and you hummed in relief.

You narrowed your eyes, determined to re-cast the characters in your mind. But instantly, your mind was creating an entire scene in your head. This was ridiculous. You weren’t going to be subject to this torture, not while Tre refused to apologize.

You stood up and let the couch throw blanket fall from your shoulders. Cold air hit your skin and you wanted to sigh in relief again, but you refused. You smiled at him and he smiled sweetly at you. “Goodnight baby,” he said.

You knew his back hurt from sleeping on the couch but you refused to be the first one to budge in this matter. He needed to do this because he wanted to and not because of some game between you. Though, it looked like he was winning so far. 

You trudged up the stairs, intent on going straight to sleep. You laid down in the dark, thoughts of Tre blowing your back out lulling you to sleep.

Tre became unbearable. He was always catching you at the wrong moment, leaving you flustered and like he was inflicting ten plus psychic damage to your kitty. It was well on its way to purring every time he walked into the room wearing a combination that made your head spin. 

First it was the gray sweatpants. Then he came home drenched in sweat, wearing compression shorts underneath his basketball shorts. He had a small white towel tucked in the waistband of his pants and you wanted to tug it down further so that you could see his Adonis belt.

If that wasn’t enough, you were trying to ignore that he was in the shower while you were laying in bed. He yelled for you to help grab him a towel because he forgot his. When you passed the soft towel to him through the door, you saw his reflection in the mirror. He winked at you as your eyes traveled down, down, down and then you shrieked and backed away. You felt insane for peeping on your own boyfriend, but his ass was well rounded, sculpted, muscles jumping. 

You fanned yourself thinking of it. You had to get him back. Had to start playing dirty yourself. You went deep into your closet, pulling out the skimpy lounge wear. The too tiny shorts, the lady boxers, the oversized T-shirts. 

You walked into the kitchen one Saturday morning, surprised to find him drinking coffee at the rounded dining room table. He had a newspaper in his hand, glasses on but he was looking over the rim. Now he was just being dramatic. 

You sauntered into the kitchen, wearing a purple oversized T-shirt, the kind that rode up whenever you leaned over. You did such a thing, reaching up for the mugs at the higher shelf. Tre moved them some time ago, telling you he did it on purpose so you’d ask for his help. 

“Need help, baby?” Tre asked, his voice gruff.

“No, thank you, baby. I got it,” you said. You managed to snag a mug without it falling on your head and then started the coffee machine. It hissed and roared to life, and you went around the kitchen, opening cabinets and closing them. 

Tre cleared his throat. “Are you looking for something?” He asked.

“I’m trying to decide if I want to move things around in here. Or get rid of what we aren’t using. What do you think?” You asked. You lifted on your tiptoes, looking into the spice cabinet. 

“Whatever you think is best, baby,” he said. He cleared his throat again and you looked at him over your shoulder. 

“Are you okay, baby? Do you need something for that throat?” You asked.

“No, ma’am,” he said and flicked the newspaper, returning his attention to it. You moved to grab your coffee, doctoring it up how you liked. Then, you sat at the table with him and crossed your legs, in plain view. Tre watched your movements covertly, a smirk playing about his lips. 

You smirked back. It carried on like this for another week, tension so thick in the house that you could cut it with a knife. He teased you mercilessly with things you’d told him were sexy on him. His loungewear or his jeans. The way he manspread all over the couch. 

You continued to tease him, parading around in your bonnets and pajamas, short shorts, and leggings. You’d caught him staring a few times, biting his lip and that noticeable bulge getting thicker and thicker. 

You were at your wit’s end by the time the following weekend rolled around. He had been consistently coming home, spending more time around the house doing things for himself. Getting back into his vinyl records, playing the odd game, or doing a few pushups and crunches on the floor of your home gym. 

You were in the laundry room, pulling warm clothes out of the dryer and placing it in a wooden basket, when Tre cornered you in the room. He blocked you from leaving and bit his lip, looking you up and down. You weren’t wearing anything revealing, just some gray joggers and a tank top. He looked at you like he could see you naked beneath it. 

Tre hummed and walked into the room, making you back away with a smirk on your face. “You think you’re slick,” he said.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you said, all sugary sweet and innocent. You adjusted the laundry basket on your hip and continued backing away until your butt hit the countertop. 

The marble surface was smooth and cold on your butt, providing some relief to the raging heat burning through you. Tre leaned in, smelling heavenly. Like green sage and sandalwood. He gently cupped your cheek, pulling you closer and pressing a feather light kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

“You’re driving me crazy, please forgive me,” he whispered.

You were tempted. Tempted worse than a kid facing down two cookies if he waited and didn’t eat the first one. You took a deep inhale of his scent, bringing your nose closer to his neck. His thick beard tickled your cheeks but you kept going, wanting to crawl into his skin. 

“Are you going to take me seriously?” You asked.

He groaned, stepping closer. “Haven’t I shown you that I have?” He asked.

“But how do I know that you won’t go running the next time your phone rings?” You asked. 

He sighed, nudging your jaw with his nose. He inhaled your scent as well, breathing in the tropical, fruity lotion you wore. His breath fanned across your overheated skin. Your knees were weak, wobbly, and you were struggling to stay upright. 

As if you summoned the damn thing, his phone rang in his pocket. Your smile dropped, body cooling. You smiled at him, hoping he didn’t see the hurt on your face. “Duty calls,” you sang.

You pushed against his body and he stepped back with a sigh and a frown. You avoided looking at his eyes, walking out of the laundry room. The air had turned stifling in the laundry room but now you had room to breathe. For your heart to calm down. 

You went into the bedroom, wanting to sit on the bed while you folded laundry. But the soft click of the door made you turn around to see Tre. He turned his pockets inside out, showing you that there was no phone. He turned in a slow circle, lifting his shirt, and you got a great view of the curve of his ass and his back. 

He held out his arms. “Phone’s off,” he said, sounding pleased as punch.

You held onto the laundry basket, using it as a barrier. You’d need it. Because if you gave in, if you let your libido speak for you, you were getting pregnant that damn night. After nearly two weeks of teasing and edging, you were ready to combust. Ready to explode. Your fingers curled around the stiff wood of the basket and you smirked.

“Cute,” you said.

He smiled. He stepped forward slowly, looking at you with that cute, mischievous smile on his face. “Forgive me,” he said.

You tilted your head. “Why should I?” You asked. Maybe you could pick a fight and keep him at bay. Keep that fire out of his eyes. He had to stop looking at you like that. Had to stop keeping one hundred percent of his focus on you.

“Because I heard you, baby. I don’t want to wake up five years from now, alone and watching my life pass me by. I want to build with you, grow with you, and show you that I am listening. I will do better because I know that I want you here, home, with me,” he said. 

Was it possible to get pregnant with just a few words? There was a strange twinge in your belly that told you it just might be possible. You wanted to melt into a puddle and grin like a loon. 

“Pretty words,” you said, some part of you enjoying poking him. He was unfazed. He put his hands on the laundry basket. When had he gotten so close? 

He smiled as he gently tugged it from your hands. You stepped forward, not wanting to get rid of your last remaining barrier. That last bit of resistance. You didn’t want to believe this. Didn’t want to get comfortable with it only for him to fall into old patterns and leave you looking like Bozo the clown. 

However, with him looking into your eyes and the way you’d been on edge the past few days, your arms started to slacken. If you didn’t find relief soon, the type of relief only he could give, the next time you brushed against a table you were going to cum on the spot. 

Tre tugged the basket from your hands and placed it on the ottoman at the end of the bed. He invaded your personal space, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “What is it gonna take for you to forgive me?” He asked.

You looked towards the ceiling. You were on fire. You were in shambles. You were not okay with his proximity. It took everything in you not to jump his bones. But you were always folding first. It was time for him to grovel a smidgen.

“I’d have to know that you’re really, really sorry,” you said. You smiled, grabbing his hands and leading him to the bed. He raised an eyebrow, smiling and following you. The back of your legs hit the edge of the bed and you sat down. 

You were eye level with his bulge, growing thicker by the second. He was back in heather gray sweatpants, dick print protruding through the fabric. 

“How can I show that?” He asked, a light teasing in his voice.

You laid back on the bed with a self-indulgent smile. “Ravish me until I say otherwise.” you said.

Tre chuckled, leaning over the bed so that he could start tugging on your joggers and panties. He pulled it off of your legs in one quick snap and you shrieked from the rough action. Perhaps you weren’t the only one at your limit. Ready to snap. 

Tre dropped to his knees, licking his lips as he caught a glimpse of your gleaming pussy. He smoothed his hands on your thighs, nudging them apart. He hummed, getting his first full look in a month and a half. Your pussy throbbed from the look in his eyes. 

His thumbs dug into your meaty thighs, finding pressure points that made your teeth instantly chatter. He leaned forward, taking a deep breath, inhaling your scent. He sighed with his mouth open, air fanning across your damp pussy. Had you known that you were gonna have sex today, you might have cleaned up a little. Freshened up better. 

But Tre had no reservation as he kissed your thighs. Kissed the side of your knees. He moved your thighs over his shoulders, rubbing his nose in your essence. You sighed with a light moan, closing your eyes. This was it. You were going to go off like a bottle rocket any moment. 

“Baby, I want you to know that I am so, very, very sorry. I made you feel alone and I never wanted to treat you that way,” he whispered to your pussy. You almost felt like an intruder. You peeked at him over your belly and saw his eyes completely focused on the center of you. 

His tongue darted out and licked up the slit of your center and you hissed, leaning away from him. With his hands wrapped around your thighs, you had nowhere to go. He successfully immobilized you as he continued to slowly coax you open. Your slick dripped down your pussy and you moaned, thighs tingling. 

“Fuck,” you moaned. Unable to stand it. He had to go faster. Had to get you off as soon as possible. Couldn’t he tell that you were dying over here? 

“I will never, ever, ever, abandon you like that again. You are what is most important to me. I will make sure you know that every day,” he said. He followed up his words with licks and groans, slurping on your essence. Your moans turned into desperate whimpers. 

“Every, single, day,” he said, punctuating every word with a lick to your clit. His lush lips latched on and began to suck, wringing desperate cries from you. Pressure built in your tummy, building and building, going higher and higher, until white light flashed behind your eyes as you came on his tongue.

He moaned, continuing to eat you out through it. You were sensitive as hell, twitching with every new lick, every new moan, every new suckle. But it felt so good, that you were heading into another orgasm. Or it could be prolonged from the first. You weren’t sure as you thrashed your head back and forth, upper body twisting on the bed.

You pushed at his head, tiny cries and whimpers. Tre kept going, grabbing your hands and pinning them to the bed. You whined, moving your hips. But you only managed to move your pussy against his face, his beard tickling your pussy and thighs. 

“Please, baby, please, baby, please,” you chanted.

“Cum f’me one more time,” he groaned. He increased his efforts, abusing your poor little clit. The sensitive bud was driving you insane but you continued to beg for more. You screamed into the room, releasing another orgasm. Tre’s satisfied hum vibrated against your pussy as he licked you until you came back down.

He pulled away from your pussy, long spit chain still connected you two. Your body was on fire, damp with sweat, as you panted and huffed from such intense orgasms back to back. 

“Look at you, All nice and creamy. All wet and ripping. You making a fuckin’ mess,” he murmured. His voice was rough, deep, sending shivers up and down your spine. 

Your pussy clenched and clenched around nothing. You didn’t know if you had another in you, but you were struggling against his hold. You needed him inside you right fucking now. You looked at Tre as he still glanced at your pussy. His beard was shiny with your mess. He finally let you go, wiping more of your juices into his beard, getting it nice and coated. It grew rough in the weeks he wasn’t worshiping your throbbing hole. 

Tre stood up, rubbing the bulge over his pants. You sat up, licking his stomach and then looking up at him. He grinned at you. You grinned back and then bit his stomach, grabbing a big bite without clamping down. Tre chuckled, stomach jostling in your mouth. You released him and smiled.

You tugged his pants down, freeing his long glorious dick. Slightly curved, you missed his dick. You kissed the tip, unable to resist being apart for too long. You looked up at him and then opened your mouth.

Tre chuckled, grabbed the base of his shaft and tapping it against your tongue. He rolled his hips, rubbing his thick head against your tongue. He groaned, throwing his head back for a brief moment. 

“You forgive me, baby?” He asked. He coated your lips with his precum and then slipped back inside your mouth.

“I’m getting there,” you groaned around his dick. It sounded a bit muffled but Tre laughed so he must have heard you. He caressed your cheek with his thumb, looking at you like you hung the moon. 

It sent a wave of feel good chemicals flooding your system and you closed your mouth around his dick. Tre hissed, pulling out of your mouth. He stroked back inside, holding your face while he face fucked you.

You relaxed your throat and mouth, letting him use you exactly how you needed. You moaned at the salty taste of his precum hitting your tongue. You swallowed what you could, trying to re-learn the shape and feel of his dick. The curve made him accidentally poke your cheek and you looked up at him.

Tre moaned, sighing with a quick, rushed, “fuck.” He continued stroking, taking what he needed from your mouth. You slobbered and slurped on him, getting his dick nice and wet. He slipped out of you suddenly and you whined, looking at him. 

“I wanna cum in that tight, dripping pussy, baby. On them knees,” he said and licked his lip. The gold chain around his neck twinkled from the overhead light. You grinned, getting off of the bed.

You stood up and turned around. Before you kneeled on the bed, Tre stopped you and lifted your tank top off of your shoulders. You lifted your arms and let him pull it off of you. You smiled over your shoulder while Tre kissed your neck. You moaned, tilting your head so he had more access.

His fingers came around your chest, fondling your breasts and pinching your nipples. You moaned, desperate tinny cries. He stepped forward, making you bend over the bed.

You climbed on, bending your knees and sticking your ass in the air. Tre hummed, running his hands over your ass. He squeezed and kneaded, putting you at ease and making you respond to his humming. 

He placed two quick kisses to the globes of your ass, following it up with love bites. “Hey!” You said.

Tre chuckled. “Missed your cute ass. Forgiven me yet, woman? I’m trynna love on you,” he said. 

“I don’t know. I think better with dick inside me,” you said. The air whooshed from your lungs as Tre shoved in, leaving you no room to prepare. You screeched, falling forward onto your face. 

Tre hummed with deep relief, like stepping into a jacuzzi after a long day. You shrieked and shivered, feeling stretched out to the max. Fuck. You forgot how big he was. How deeply and completely he filled you up. 

“Thinking more clearly, baby?” He asked, his voice full of teasing. You could hear the smile in his voice. Fucker. 

You drew in deep breaths, getting acclimated to his size. You got onto your elbows and then stretched your back, giving you a better arch. Tre groaned, pulling back and then slamming back in.

“Fuck,” you choked out.

He repeated the motion, pulling out to the tip and then slamming back in. Your ass smacked loudly against his thighs, wet slaps echoing in the room. 

“Gon’ answer me?” He asked. 

“Fuck, yes, I’m thinking more clearly,” you whined. Your mind was clear. Fuck whatever he did, he just needed to keep stroking into you just as he was doing.

He made it worse. He started increasing his pace, slamming you back on his dick in quick, hard thrusts that shook your whole body with the force of it. You choked on your whines and moans, choked on his dick spearing you from the inside out. 

You creamed on his dick and he moaned. “Goddamn, you feeling so good. So nice and wet, baby. You hear that?” He asked.

You nodded, but eventually let out a squeaky, “yes.” Yes, you heard your pussy sucking him down greedily. Yes, you heard the evidence of your arousal. He made you cum so many times already, but you were building towards another one. 

“Hmm, I feel you clutching this dick. Show me what’s yours, baby,” he groaned. His voice was rough with his arousal, deep with his lust. He stroked so deep, hitting all your good spots. 

He grunted and smacked your ass, gathering some of your slick with his fingers playing with your clit. You cried out and jerked forward, interrupting the rhythm. Tre removed his fingers, picking up the pace once more. Then he brought those wet fingers to your ass, rubbing his thumb around your tight, puckered hole. Your teeth chattered as he continued to push inward, push past that bit of resistance.

Now, you really felt full. “Oh, baby, fuck, please,” you cried out. 

“Be a good little girl and cum on this dick,” he growled.

“Shit,” you whispered as you did just that, flooding his dick with fresh slick. He slipped more easily inside of you, grunting as you clenched around his throbbing dick. He moaned, increasing his strokes until he was soon following after.

His hot cum shot inside of you, painting your creamy walls with his cum. Your back bowed and he wiggled his thumb in your ass. Drool leaked from your lips as you came down from your climax.

Tre slowed his movements, pumping the last of it inside of you. He stilled his hips, kept you plugged up with his dick. You shivered and twitched on him, completely spent and out of breath. He kissed down your spine, rubbing your back. You groaned. Somehow, he zeroed in on your problem areas, the parts of your back that ached and ached all the time. 

“Baby? You forgive me?” He asked.

You whimpered. He expected you to talk after something like that? You needed at least two days to recover. 

“I forgive you, baby. Just…please don’t do that again,” you said, your voice small. Tre stilled with his lips against your back. He nodded once and then nodded again like he was confirming for himself as well. 

“I won’t. I’ll be right here with you,” he promised. He softened inside of you and slowly slipped out. You groaned. Tre spread your asscheeks and watched his cum slowly glide out of your pussy.

He cursed softly. “Need to do this more often, you made such a mess,” he said.

You chuckled. You were a limp noodle at the moment. You were unable to move a muscle. Not a single twitch. Tre kissed your cheek, smacking your ass lightly while he went to grab a washcloth. He cleaned you off and then got onto the bed with you.

He pulled you into the crook of his arm, snuggling against your back. Your ass wiggled against his dick.

“Behave,” he grunted. He pulled you as far as you were able to go and wrapped his strong arms around you. You stayed in bed for the rest of the day, talking and laughing, and enjoying each other like you used to do.

You only left the bed long enough to get food, laughing your way back to each other. Renewing your commitment to each other with every smile, every joke, and every twinkle in your eyes.

There's more Tre to love! The Secret Tre Files

[chososdiscordkitten]

Obsessive!Choso♡

Obsessive!Choso who swore his obsession for you was just a small crush. Defending his actions to nobody but himself, assuring himself that his excessive staring was fine, it's not like it hurt you, right? Only ever watching you from a distance, at least 4 rows of students between you and the gaze that never left you. Doubting himself anytime he thought of complimenting you on his way out of class. Opening his mouth to speak as you walked passed by him, but no words leaving his lips. Wanting to ask you for your social media, even if he had already found them. Knowing that if he did, you'd at least have to acknowledge him. Even if you said no to him. 

Obsessive!Choso who watched the back of your head throughout the entire class, ignoring what the teacher projected onto the board. His eyes scan the side of your face when you'd turn it to look over at your friend. Smile creeping to his face when he sees your smile. Knowing that he'd have to retake this useless course again next semester. Secretly hoping that you'd have to retake it with him. Never spoke a word to you, but he knew that if you gave him the time of day, you'd see that he was the one for you. 

Obsessive!Choso who scrolls through your instagram nightly from a burner account. Watching your stories of you with your friends, seeing you post pictures of the food you ordered from a restaurant. Making a mental note that your plate had pieces of mushroom pushed to the side. Thinking how cute it was that you probably didn't like mushrooms. Smile on his lips whenever you post a screenshot of a song you'd be listening to, feeling his heart swell when he knew the song you were playing. And if he didn't recognize it, he'd listen to it. Studying the lyrics as though you had posted it just for him. 

Obsessive!Choso who purposefully asked for a different class midway through the semester, just to have a chance of having another class with you. Cursing the admins from the office when his request was denied. Feeling like he was too far away from you, sitting two rows closer. Choosing a seat that gave him a clear view of your papers, and your laptop while he watched. Seeing you doodle onto stray pieces of paper, small drawings that he wished you'd leave behind just for him. Being close enough for your friend to notice him staring, shoving their elbow into your arm and pointing their eyes to him. His heart dropped as you furrowed your eyebrows. Turning around to look at him. His lips parted when he felt your eyes on his face, seeing you give him a warm smile before turning around. Shoving your friend who was silently laughing, mumbling a quiet ‘shut up’ before looking back down at your paper.

Obsessive!Choso who knew he wasn't the kind of guy you typically go for, dark eyeshadow around his eyes. Heavy platform shoes that make him look taller and intimidating and heavily pierced ears. But seeing you smile at him anyway, before telling your friend to ‘shut up’ when they laughed at him. Made him think that maybe, just maybe he had a chance with you. 

Obsessive!Choso whose heart almost burst in anxiety when the TA announced that there'd be pairs for an upcoming project. Hearing that the pairings would be posted in the online classroom later tonight. Sitting in his bedroom, laptop on his thigh as he kept refreshing the page. Fingers crossed he'd finally have an excuse to speak to you. Mentally chanting ‘Please, please, please.’ as he refreshed once more, seeing the link to the list pop up. Scrolling down swiftly as his eyes skimmed the list. His heart practically broke when he read he was paired with someone else. His eyes almost tearing up when he saw that you were paired with the chick that was assigned to the seat next to him. Knowing that if the TA miss clicked by a few pixels, he'd be assigned to work with you. 

Obsessive!Choso who was over the moon when he received an email a week later that his assigned partner caught a vicious flu, and he had to be paired with someone else. Crossing his fingers when he heard that your assigned partner was out of town on a family emergency, hoping that the TA would tell him he was your new partner. Laying on his stomach as he refreshed the page, the new updated list almost made him kick his feet while trying not to giggle as he read his name next to yours. Knowing that the next time he'll see you, he would have to say something. 

Obsessive!Choso who got to class early and sat in his secluded seat, learning from his mistakes when he sat a little too closely to you. Earphone in his ear when he saw a shadow above his notebook. Looking up to see you, smiling at him before you introduced yourself. Your voice was full of confidence as he tried his hardest not to smile. “Could I sit?” you asked him, placing your hand onto the back of the rolling chair next to Choso. Seeing him let out a quiet 'mhm' before looking down to his shoes. Taking a seat and turning the chair to look at him, knowing there was a few more minutes before class, you asked him. “Are you busy later today?” he closed his eyes at hearing your sweet voice. He looked up to meet your eyes, before looking away again. “No, I'm not.” he croaked, you felt a chill run down your spine at how deep his voice was. “We could meet up at the library? We’re already so behind.” You laughed, seeing his eyes look anywhere but at you. Choso felt his heart skip a beat at hearing you refer to him and yourself as ‘we’. He murmured a low “Okay.” Before the doors to the classroom opened, the overworked TA walked in and set up at the front. “Kay, I'll see you around 5? Is that fine?” you asked, standing from the chair and looking down at him. Hearing a small ‘Mhm’ from him before you pushed the chair back to where it was. Walking down the steps of the classroom, down to your seat. Hearing your friend ask you what you were doing, “He's my new partner.” you whispered, sitting down as your friend made fun of you. Closing his eyes to restrain himself from cracking a smile. You defending him only fueled his delusions, making him think that you were taking a liking to him.

-

pt 2 here

mmmmmm I wrote this rq, I couldn't get it out of my head. obsessive crush to stalker pipeline coming up:D anddd I am trying to make shorter posts, pump out more content so my head isnt full all the time. 1k words at most. wrote this while listening to 'Vampire Empire- Big Thief'

[hana-no-seiiki]

YANDERE! DELINQUENT! OC x READER

As celebration for 1K followers and 1K likes on the HAIRPIN | POPPED short fic. I have drawn a sketch of Mori and made another fic for you all ! Enjoy ;D

Please read the previous fic linked above for context.

warnings: [y/n] is masc leaning though i don’t use anything specific to describe them. [y/n] is kind of a terrible person. perv! mori. mentions of sex. underwear theft. stalking. m. masturbation.

IT TOOK MORI AN EMBARRASSING AMOUNT OF TIME TO NOTICE THAT YOU TWO WERE IN THE SAME CLASS. But now that he knew, he made sure to attend as much as he can. Shamelessly staring at you like he was about to have you as his next meal.

This would have prompted your classmates to warn you, if you weren’t such a menace and a half yourself.

From what Mori learned from his stalking, you were about as bad as he was when it came to physical hostility only that yours came in the form of verbal and emotional assaults. You were known for turning even the most popular person in campus into an outcast with just a click of a button. It became your job to basically be on the know-how of everyone. You probably knew everything there is about Mori himself.

He found out after seeing an underclassman confess to you. Poor kid had his heart shattered when you told him that you shared his declined terrific confessions about wanting to be railed by you, to not only the entire school, but the internet as well.

What was even worse was that kid still liked you after all that. Apparently you two were acquaintances and he had unknowingly saved the junior from getting his ass beat by kicking the bullies’. And that led to you and Mori meeting.

Tch. Why did he have to owe that lanky piece of shit the honor of encountering you?

After going through the 5 stages of grief that is falling in love with you. Mori decided to just fuck it and accept the fact that he ain’t getting you out of his heart and/or mind anytime soon.

Might as well indulge his feelings.

By that he means following you everywhere.

And he means everywhere.

His lackeys are so confused. Why was Boss stalking you? You had a horrid reputation like him, but you only attacked when provoked. But the way Boss was staring you down said otherwise. His horny was mistaken as anger.

This would have prompted them to ‘deal’ with you. If you didn’t threaten their social lives.

So for the next month it had been a standstill. Until one fateful day. When you dragged him to a dark, abandoned shed behind the school.

And started taking off your pants/skirt, and your undergarments. Your genitalia out for show.

“Wh-Wha—Wait— I’m—“ He stuttered. He’d seen you strip many times before. Even masturbating inside your closet and on your bed. But seeing you do it right in front of him with nothing between you two was still . . . new but nice . . . and a tad bit overwhelming.

“It’s my underwear.” You dangle the piece of cloth on front of his face. Using your free hand to put your pants/skirt back on.

“I can see that, why are you giving me your dirty ass—“

“I was thinking it may have been the kid. Taking all my laundry and all that. But then you started following me everywhere.”

“Y-You knew?!”

“I was guessing. But now I know.” You shrugged casually, as if you hadn’t just dropped the biggest bombshell in the world. As if you hadn’t just exposed his depraved actions towards youz

“Which brings me to my next point, I want you to go out with me.”

“What?!”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“YES! I mean, yes — But . . . why ?”

“Well it’s an equal exchange. I’d have a boyfriend to stop all those pesky confessions and attempts at my life, which you have been doing for me in the background. Thank you, by the way—“

“You’re- You’re welcome? You could have said something—“

“Let me talk properly before I change my mind.” Tired of holding your underwear, you decided to throw it on his face before continuing, “And you, get to take all the underwear you’d like. Get to take me on all the dates you’d like. Maybe even fuck me in whatever place or position you’d like.”

This was too good to be true. Mori was leaking from the words coming out your mouth, but he had to make sure he wasn’t getting himself into a situation he didn’t want.

“What’s the catch?”

“It’s simple. Know your place. I take the reins of this relationship. Not you. I make the decisions and adjustments to this exchange. Not you. We’ll break up when I say so. So there’s no backing out on your terms I’m afraid.”

The arrangements seemed unfair. Too perfect. It wasn’t as if he’ll break up with you at any moment, he’ll just have to focus on keeping your eyes on him. There was nothing to be afraid of. Doubt still permeated, but even then . . .

“Deal.” He answered immediately. The benefits were too good to care about essentially being a guard dog. He might as well indulge as he has been.

This time without the time spent hesitating on his decision.

“Let’s make good on that deal right now, shall we?”

[ YANDERE DELINQUENT / MORI CHARACTER PROFILE ]

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

5 Times You Stole Eijiro Kirishima’s Hoodie | Part 1: The Convenience Store

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Ship: Eijiro Kirishima x Femme Reader! 💋

Genre: Fluff, Romance, Tension, Hero Situations, Eijiro Kirishima is a Pro Hero

Link to My Master List 😬

5 Times You Stole Eijiro Kirishima’s Hoodie

Part 1: The Convenience Store

It is a rainy Tuesday night and you are absolutely exhausted from work. On your way home to your apartment, you decide to stop by a local bodega for some junk food. You have been looking forward to binge watching a trashy reality TV show all day long, and some potato chips would be the perfect snack to munch on as you enjoy the juicy TV drama.

The bodega’s glass sliding door opens with a squeak as you hastily fold up your dripping umbrella. You shiver as the cool store AC hits your wet skin, and goose bumps flare across your bare arms. The day had started out deceptively warm, and you hadn’t dressed for the weather. You are deeply regretting the choice to wear the navy sleeveless dress that is now clinging to your body and dripping a puddle onto the dull bodega carpet. Oh well – you will be home in just a few minutes and will be able to step into a hot shower soon enough.

You grab a shopping basket and wander the aisles, eager to satiate your cravings for salty crisps. The store is unusually empty for the hour – the sudden rain must have kept most people inside. The only other people present are the elderly cashier, and a man pursuing the energy drinks in one of the freezers. The other patron is keenly focused on a bottle of purple Gatorade - intently reading the ingredient list on the drink’s packaging. You pay no attention to this other customer as you locate the snack aisle and load up your basket with chip bags boasting a variety of fun flavors (BBQ chips?? Yes please!). The aisles are tall – stacked ceiling high with boxes and bags containing every flavor of chip one could imagine.

SMASH! A loud crash reverberates throughout the tiny store, followed by the sound of small objects scattering across the vinyl floor. A deep voice booms out: “This is a hold up. Give me all the money in that register. And make it quick – I don’t think either of us wants any trouble.” You freeze; blood running cold in your veins as you quickly put the pieces of the situation together.

“I swear old man – I’ve got a special quirk that will make your life all kinds of painful unless you Hand. Over. The. Cash.”

You move slowly along the aisle, looking for a gap in the snack shelves so you can better assess the situation. Through a small space between cereal boxes, the situation comes into view – the man that you had seen shopping for sports drinks is now standing menacingly over the check out counter. He is around six feet tall with sharp features; a simple black domino mask obscured his eyes. Clad entirely in black, he stands with his right arm gripping the linoleum countertop, the other poised grotesquely above the cashier’s balding head. It takes you a moment to put together exactly what you were seeing – the villain’s right arm was a gigantic crab claw! If the situation weren’t so tense, you would have died from laughter. The scene is ridiculous – the man’s arm (claw) is twice the length of a typical human arm and had a bright, shiny red hue. This kind of mutation quirk always gives you a start – the unnatural way the man’s body blends seamlessly with the extra large claw is uncanny.

            The shop cashier looks up at the villain with terror in his eyes. He seems absolutely frozen on the spot as the masked robber clicks his claw menacingly. With a start, you notice that the inside of the claw is wickedly sharp. The villain flashes it dangerously towards the cashier’s neck to drive a sense of urgency.

            You assess your options. Your quirk isn’t particularly powerful, but it definitely has some use here. If you could just get a little bit closer to the situation, you could probably use it to distract the villain long enough to get the cashier out of harm’s way. You stretch out your hand to activate your quirk, but stopped dead when you feel a warm, rough hand clamp around your mouth from behind.

You try to scream, but the sound comes out muffled. Adrenaline floods your veins as you prepared to fight for your life. You hadn’t heard someone sneak up behind you, and you squirm in an effort to get away. An arm reaches out to steady you, and it’s owner whispers: “Sorry to startle you – I’m here to help.” The soft, gravely voice sends a fresh wave of goose bumps down your chilled skin. You turn to see one of the year’s top heroes - the Red Riot - crouched over you in the snack aisle. You’d recognize that trademark red spiky hair anywhere. Your body starts to relax a bit – things are under control and a hero is here!

Over the past few years, Red Riot has been making quite a name for himself in the media as a dependable, chivalrous hero. You’ve often watched his battles and rescues play out on the television – not only was he a skilled hero, but also he was kind and genuine. His interviews were your favorite – he always found such nice things to say about his teammates and the people he rescued. And he wasn’t bad to look at either.

He’s clearly not on duty – his usual simple costume has been traded in for a black t-shirt, jeans and a soft red hoodie. Your heart skips a beat. He’s so totally hot. When he realizes you’re not going to scream and give away his position to the villain, he releases you from his embrace. He smiles reassuringly, and the warmth of his grins reaches his eyes.

“I’m going to get you out of this.” He promises.

For a second there, you completely forgot about the convenience store hold up occurring feet away from where the two of you were crouched. Your senses are clouded by the closeness of Red Riot, who is still holding you steady with his muscular arms. When he realizes his touch is lingering a bit longer than necessary, he quickly pulls away. He shifts to peer over your shoulder through the small cereal box window. The movement brings him ever so slightly closer to you, and you find yourself inhaling the sweet scent of clean laundry. You lean the tiniest bit closer to him.

But back to the situation at hand – you can hear the crab clawed villain barking commands at the cashier. He wants all the money from the register as well as a roll of lotto tickets. He must be either extremely overconfident or incredibly good at crime – because this man is taking his time! Red Riot scowls as he watches the scene unfold. You can see his body tensing as he prepares for a confrontation. With a look of determination, he turns to you and whispers “stay quiet and out of sight. I’m going to go distract the villain and try to de-escalate the situation. If things get physical – run. There’s a dumpling shop across the street – get someone there to call the police.”

His red eyes bore into your own. There’s something so intense and hot about him. You feel a strange connection pulling you closer to this man, closer to the heat of his body.

            “W-wait.” You whisper. “I can help!”

            You point to the man with the crab claw – he still has the Gatorade bottle in the pocket of his pants. To his left you see a palette of energy drinks waiting to be restocked. “With my quirk I can control small amounts of liquid. I can distract him by levitating all those energy drinks at once. I’ll suspend them in the air and bring them all crashing down on top of him, giving you time to get the cashier out of harm’s way.”

            Red Riot smiles appreciatively. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m afraid I can’t ask you to put yourself in danger like that. I’ll handle this on my own. Just keep quiet and get across the street, okay?”

            You make a face. You don’t understand why he won’t let you help. After all, the villain seems untrained and unfocused. His claw hand can’t do much damage to a bunch of small, moving targets.

            “Trust me.” Red Riot reaches for your hand. He places the pads of your fingers on his palm. You can feel him activating his hardening quirk beneath your fingers as his skin slowly becomes rougher. “I was built for this.”

            You nod, unable to argue. His quirk makes his skin feel smooth and strong like the bark of an oak tree. You press your fingers lightly into the center of his hand, but there’s no give. Reflexively, he closes his fingers around your own, causing electricity to shoot through your hand at the intimate touch. Red Riot’s eyes widen, an apology already at his lips. You quickly slip your hand out from his grasp.

“Good luck, Red Riot.” You tap the hardened skin on his forearm. “You’re right – definitely built for this.”

            He grins, seemingly basking in the compliment.

            “That’s right – just leave this to me!” He whispers back. “Stay safe, okay?”

Red Riot army crawls down the aisle. You watch as he slowly steps out from behind the shelves and approaches the counter confidently, grabbing a bag of BBQ chips on the way. The poor cashier is now filling a grocery bag with money from the register as the crab armed villain hulks over him, sneering and clicking his claw. The villain doesn’t even seem to hear Red Riot approaching him from behind.

            In two strides, Red Riot closes the distance and reaches out to tap the villain on his crabby shoulder.

            “Excuse me, sir. I’m going to have to ask you to step away from the counter. Other people want to check out.” As he says this, he pointedly tosses his bag of chips onto the shiny linoleum counter.

            The crab villain whirls around, face full of fury. His eyes widen and his face contorts in fury when he realizes whom he’s talking to. The villain wastes no time – he propels himself away from the counter, whirling his deadly sharp arm towards Red Riot.

Crack!

The arm makes contact with Red Riot’s rock hard skin. The hero smiles smugly, his right arm taking the brunt of the blow.

“Why don’t we take this down a notch, sir? I’m clearly a match for your quirk, and the police are already on their way. There’s no need to fight, we can just talk - ”

            The villain moves surprisingly swiftly, shifting around Red Riot’s outstretched arm and reaching to position his claw around Red Riot’s neck. The hero’s facial expression shifts to surprise – he wasn’t expecting a villain with such a cumbersome quirk to be able to move so languidly. The crab villain slowly starts to press down his claw around the hero’s neck. Red Riot is making a face that clearly says “Oh, shit.”

You turn and desperately reach your hand through the gap in the cereal box display, pointing your fingertips at the villain and willing your Quirk to activate. Almost instantly, the Gatorade bottle resting half full in the villain’s back pocket lifts into the air as all of the liquid rushes towards the top of the container. You focus all of your concentration on the bottle.

Unfortunately, you never had a lot of opportunity to train and refine your quirk as you had pursued an educational track that prioritized tech and computer skills over quirk competence. However, you had a grasp on the fundamentals of how your quirk worked – and you figured if you could just distract the crab villain for a moment, you could give Red Riot a chance to regroup.

The villain pressed his sharp claw further around Red Riot’s neck. You could hear an ominous cracking notice – and you hoped desperately that the sound wasn’t the hero’s thick skin crumbling beneath his assailant’s grasp. You began to feel a sickening mix of adrenaline and fear coursing through your veins and you try to renew your concentration. The liquid inside the bottle begins to boil – the water fizzing and popping in the small confined space. You shakily will the bottle to float up and behind the villain’s head.

Red Riot uses his hardened hands to try to break the villain’s grasp, but the crabby grip holds fast. The villain is intensely focused on trying to crush Red Riot’s windpipe, and so he is completely taken by surprise when the bottle of Gatorade explodes and hits the back of his head with a splash of scalding purple liquid. The villain howls in pain – both hands reflexively flying to cradle the back of his burned head. In his pain and fury, he unwittingly releases Red Riot from his grasp. The red headed hero is quick to take advantage of the situation – dropping to the ground and sweeping a strong leg beneath the villain’s own. The crab-clawed villain comes crashing to the ground with a large “thud.”

Red Riot wastes no time, dropping on top of the villain to pin disproportionate arms to the ground.

“Sir, you’re under arrest for armed robbery and for engaging in combat with a licensed hero. The police will be here shortly to take your statement - but in the meantime please stop resisting.”

You breathe a sigh of relief as Red Riot continues to hold the villain tightly to the ground. Behind the counter’s register, the convenience store clerk still stands frozen, holding a wad of bills in bills in a vice-like grip.

You hear the metallic slide of the store’s automatic doors followed by several pairs of heavy boots off to your right. Within a few seconds, a team of police officers comes into view, their starched blue shirts bright in the florescent lighting.

At the sight of the police, the crab villain finally seems to give up fighting – his body sagging to the ground beneath Red Riot. The hero holds his position, eyeing the villain’s mutant arm warily. Even from a distance, you can tell his hardening quirk is still activated – he isn’t taking any chances.

“Great job, Red Riot! We’ll take it from here.” A tall officer with a glinting badge steps forward and uses a length of metal cord to bind the villain’s large clawed arm. “We’ve been after this guy for weeks!”

Red Riot smiles as he steps back and lets the police team capture his assailant. He turns and meets your eyes through the space in the cereal box wall. He grins at you, his dark eyes wink a quick “thanks” in your direction as he detectives whisk him away for questioning.

“Miss – are you alright?” You let out a small squeak of surprise, turning to find a short female officer with a tight bun of dark hair coming around the corner of the aisle. You look down at yourself – crouching like a wild animal in a soggy, rain-drenched dress.

“I’ve definitely had better days.” You laugh, allowing the policewoman to help you to your feet. You feel the adrenaline slowly start to melt away, leaving you feeling shaky and a bit lightheaded. You can’t think of the last time you used your quirk, so you’re sure the little stunt you pulled to save Red Riot has impacted your stamina.

“Mind if we ask you a few questions about what happened here?” The officer asks, motioning for you to follow her to the front of the store where the crab villain is being checked for weapons.

“No, not at all!” You wrap your arms around yourself and attempt to bring some warmth back into your body.          

The police had a lot of questions. Apparently this villain had been evading them for quite sometime. He had been robbing convenience stores across several cities. He was quick, efficient, and sometimes even deadly – having injured half a dozen clerks and store patrons in his mad pursuit of cash.

“We heard that you used your quirk to get Red Riot out of a spot of trouble.” The policewoman with the bun taps a pen to a pad of paper thoughtfully. Her tone isn’t accusatory; she’s just stating facts. “The unsanctioned use of a quirk in combat is illegal, but since you were put in a potentially life threatening situation and you were in under the supervision of a pro hero, the Good Samaritan law should cover your actions today.”

 You feel the last bit of energy absolutely drain out of you and you reach out to grab a nearby store shelf for support. Illegal? The thought of breaking the law hadn’t even crossed your mind. You had just acted on pure instinct when you saw Red Riot in trouble. You start to shiver more violently as the weight of what you’ve done fully sinks in. The policewoman quickly waves to another officer and you find yourself being guided to a chair.

“Miss - it seems like you’re in shock. Please take some deep breaths and we’ll get you to a hospital shortly to get checked out, alright?” The officer pats your hand kindly and pockets her notepad. She walks out of view to call a medical team with her colleagues and you are momentarily left alone in the corner of the store. You stare at the ground, your head feeling fuzzy and cold. It was so stupid to use your quirk so recklessly like that! You admonish yourself silently. You’re sure that Red Riot could have gotten himself out of that bad situation given time – he was a top hero after all! You were just so worried and eager to help…

A soft material engulfs your shoulders. “You’re freezing! Here – take my sweatshirt.” You turn and see Red Riot standing behind you, his strong hands pressing his large red hoodie around your shoulders. He smooths the plush material around you, and you shiver at the contact.

“I couldn’t possibly take this!” You said weakly despite your body hungrily leaning into the warmth of his touch and the offered piece of clothing.

“It’s too late – it’s already yours. Consider it a thank you for saving me back there.” Red Riot grins, showing off a row of pointed teeth. You gratefully accept the gift – tucking your arms into the floppy sleeves. You’re practically swimming in sweatshirt.

“I really shouldn’t have done that.” You look down, ashamed. “You had the situation under control, and it was irresponsible to use my quirk like that. You even told me not to help earlier.” You shake your head, and then blush when you realize you’re probably showering the chivalrous hero in raindrops.

“Don’t beat yourself up about that at all! While it’s true that a Pro can always break out of a tough spot, someone once told me that ‘meddling where you don’t need to is the essence of a hero.’ You moved without thinking to help me when I needed it. That took guts.” His grin widens. “I’m so lucky that such a strong person was looking out for me from the cereal section.”

You laugh, cheeks blushing at the compliment. He’s just so…handsome, grinning roguishly at you with his deep, dark eyes.

“Your quirk is really strong, too. What was that – liquid manipulation? Have you ever trained your quirk?” You’re taken aback by the sincerity of his interest in your small little quirk.

“Not really – I had the standard quirk class in elementary school where we are evaluated and learn how to control the basics of each of our quirks. Beyond that, I never had much interest in it. I can make small amounts of liquid float, boil and freeze. It’s not particularly powerful, but I can make a mean pot of soup with it.” You smile, appreciating the attention you’re receiving from the hero. “I went to a specialty high school focused on business and marketing, so I pretty much avoided any quirk training or hero-focused track. Exploding that little Gatorade bottle was probably the crux of my power.”

“Well it was incredible! I feel like you’re really underselling yourself – I see so much potential in you and your quirk. With just a little training, I think you could really do some damage.” Red Riot says excitedly, talking animatedly with his hands. You laugh, picturing yourself in some ridiculous hero suit parading around the city splashing boiling water on legions of seafood-themed villains.

“Surprisingly, the hero life is just not for me!” You grin before a wave of shivers wracks through your body. Is this from shock? Or is it the damp cold of your rain soaked dress finally catching your attention.

Red Riot instantly notices your discomfort and shakes his head thoughtfully before saying: “Stay here a minute, I have an idea.” He scampers away and you’re left alone again. You focus on taking a few deep, calming breaths as you zip the hoodie up to your chin. You inhale deeply and realize that the red fabric smells comforting and sweet – a combination of mint and cedar wood. You deeply breathe in the scent of Red Riot, and you feel your panic ebb away. You’re steeped in exhaustion as you slouch against the hard plastic chair.

A moment later, Red Riot re-appears, holding a steaming Styrofoam cup. “I made you some peppermint tea.” He says shyly, holding out the hot cup. “It always makes me feel better after a fight – I thought it might do the same for you.”

You take the cup gratefully and tip it back for a sip. He holds out a hand to stop you. “Careful, it’s hot. Give it a second to cool so you don’t burn your mouth.”

“Thank you so much, Red Riot. I really appreciate all you’ve done today.” You’re too tired to care that you sound like a fan girl.

“Hey, call me Eijiro. After what we’ve been through together, we should be on a first name basis.” To your surprise, his cheeks tint pink as he shares his first name. You smile softly and share your own nickname. He repeats it back to you, seeming to like the way your name rolls on his tongue.

“It’s nice to meet you Eijiro.” You feel the warmth of the tea sinking into your icy hands.

“So what were you buying here at the store anyway? Let me go get you a cart and – oh, hold on!” He absentmindedly leans in close to you, reaching out to pull a stray wet strand of hair away from your face. He tucks it gently behind your ear. “We should really get you a hair dryer or something!” He laughs, “You’re still soaking wet!” Despite just having met, the touch is so intimate and familiar. You lean towards him, wanting him to touch you again with his strong, capable hero fingertips.

“Red Riot – the press is outside waiting to interview you.” A police officer calls over, snapping you both back to reality. “They’re eager to hear about how you apprehended the villain. For the sake of her privacy, let’s leave this young lady’s roll in the capture out of it.”

Eijiro snaps to attention, his hand still hovering close to your face. He turns to give the officer a thumbs up. “Sounds good to me! I’ll be right there.”

He moves to look at you again. His eyes are wide and his expression intrigued. “They’re going to take you to the hospital to make sure everything looks okay. They’ll probably keep you overnight for observation until you’re out of shock. I’m sure they’ll take good care of you, cutie.” He stands to walk out of the store. “Thanks for saving my life – I hope to hear from you soon!”

And with a wave, he strides away towards the press team waiting outside. You look down into your tea, confused and quietly delighted at his hope to hear from you. You have absolutely no idea how you would ever contact him again, but the sentiment and the term of endearment he had used is sweet. Ever the chivalrous hero.

The next few hours are a whirlwind of tests and scans and interviews with police officers and doctors alike. Despite your protests, an ambulance whisks you away to the closest hospital and you are kept under observation just as Red Riot - Eijiro ­- had predicted. The staff is courteous and sweet, praising you for your roll in the incident when the police officers tip them off. You’re given comfortable clothes to borrow and access to a hot shower adjacent to your hospital room.

When you finally sink into the hospital bed, it’s pitch black outside. You flick on the grainy old TV that’s mounted above your bed and flick through the channels until you stop to see a familiar face on the local news.

Red Riot is smiling down at you from the TV set, his eyes warm as he answers the questions of various reporters.

“I was just shopping for some ramen when I noticed the villain. Weird coincidence that I just happened to be at the same store as him!” The hero laughs, rubbing his hand behind his head. “I’m thankful to the store patrons and the clerk who stayed calm as I handled the situation.”

“Red Riot – did you have any difficulty subduing the victim?”

Eijiro pauses to think for a moment before carefully saying “There was a moment that he had the drop on me, but a really cute shopper distracted him for me and allowed me to get the upper hand.”

“You’re so humble, Red Riot. I’m sure you had everything under control.”

Eijiro shakes his head. “I don’t want to encourage recklessness, but I do want to make it clear that you don’t need to be a Pro to be someone’s hero. The woman who helped me today – her bravery and willingness to act even when things were scary is what true heroism looks like. I’m grateful to her, and I hope that I’ll be able to see her again soon.”

The reporters continue to fawn over Red Riot for a few more minutes – peppering him with more questions that he cheekily answers. He avoids revealing any additional details about you despite the reporter’s needling and prodding. Soon the news broadcast ends, and the anchor appears on screen and starts discussing upcoming movie releases.

You sit with your mouth gaping open. Had you really made such a lasting impression on the sturdy hero? You feel your heartbeat increase at the thought, causing the heart monitors strapped to your chest to peep and whir. A nurse appears at your side in an instant, and you bashfully explain to her that you are fine – just a bit overexcited from the day’s events. Once she is assuaged, you return to flipping through channels before settling on reruns of The Bachelor. This wasn’t the soapy TV series you had been looking forward to all day, but it was as close as you are going to get at this point. You let the show run and before long you are dozing in the propped up hospital bed, dreaming of seafood villains and heroes with bright hair and dark, endless eyes.

When you’re finally ready to check out from the hospital the next day, the nurse at the front desk presents you with your belongings. Your wallet, your high heeled work shoes, and an extra large bright red hoodie. “Oh – I forgot about this.” You gratefully accept the sweatshirt and shrug it on. It swings around you like a trench coat, fluffy and warm. You can still smell traces of cedar wood on the collar.

You walk out of the hospital and into a surprisingly sunny day, metallic sliding doors parting for you as you exit. You sink your hands into the hoodie’s overlarge pockets and are surprised to feel a rectangular square object tucked into the deep right pocket. Had Eijiro left a piece of gum in his hoodie? You fish it out with your index and pointer fingers – it’s a small folded up piece of paper ripped from a notepad. Upon closer inspection, you notice that it’s branded with the convenience store’s faded logo. You guess it was ripped from the clerk’s register notepad.

Curious, you unfold the small wad of paper. Written hastily across the note is a messy scrawl of digits and the words: Would love to take you to dinner some time, cutie. Thanks for rescuing me. – Eijiro.

            Oh my God. He gave you his number. A warm blush creeps up your face as your eyes run across the note over and over again. What a crazy 24 hours it has been! You reach into your purse to grab your phone. With shaky hands you add “Eijiro Kirishima” as a contact in your phone, adding a few rock emojis and a bright red crab emoji beside his name. He’d probably find that hilarious.

            You draft up a fresh text to the red headed hero and type: “In need of rescuing tonight – the villain: hunger and boredom. In need of a hero who knows the perfect ramen spot.” You hit send and hold your breath. What if he’s on patrol tonight? You worry. What if he was just being nice and doesn’t actually see you again?

            Your worries are totally baseless, because within seconds you have a reply: “I’m more than up for this mission – meet me in front of the convenience store at 8. Wear the sweatshirt so I’ll recognize you in the crowd?” He ends it with a winking emoji and your heartbeat quickens. You officially have a date set with Eijiro Kirishima – the Red Riot.

Your hero.

Thanks so much for reading!!!

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

Other Kirishima Stories:

Headcannon: Kirishima LOVES wearing Bakugo's clothes.

🦈❤️Boyfriend!Kirishima ❤️🦈

A Long, *Hard* Night with Eijiro Kirishima (A18+ - MDNI!!!) 💋

Link to My Master List 😬

[loquaciousferret]

Heat Waves

Gif: @serenaxpedro

Summary: A heatwave and a broken air conditioning unit in the office leads to tensions running high between you and your partner, Javier Peña. What lengths will you consider going to, seeking relief?

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Warnings: 18+ smut, no minors etc etc . fingering, unprotected sex, semi-public sex (in an office), maybe more, just please don’t read if you can be sensitive to any kinds of sexual content

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: credit to @tightjeansjavi for the prompt, this was delightful to write hehe

You check the wall thermometer again. The needle is creeping just above 30°. You groan loudly.

For a building full of people whose work visas list them as being employed in “Janitorial Services”, the US Embassy in Medellin had a shockingly poor maintenance and janitorial department.

The air conditioning had broken yesterday, towards the end of the work day. It was bearable because it was already beginning to cool down into the evening, but today, in the mid-day sun, in a July heatwave, it had been too much for most of your colleagues to bear.

Anyone who was able to work from home had scurried off with boxes of files to catch up on paperwork in their air conditioned apartments.

But you and Javi couldn’t move the entire wall of the office where you were mapping out trade routes, connections, linking suspects together and desperately trying to find a pattern that would let you understand where exactly the evidence was that you so desperately needed.

You had probably consumed your body-weight in water. You had already shed as many layers as possible. You had even removed your tights. All that was left was a tight skirt and a blouse that was sticking to your skin all over. Plastered to your lower back, your chest. Nothing was cooling you down.

“Are you evening listening to me?” Javi sighs.

Your gaze snaps up to him, he is watching you with an expression that is more defeated than irritated.

“I’m sorry Jav, can’t think straight. This fucking heat’s making me crazy.” You say sincerely.

“Yeah, you can say that again.” He responds sympathetically.

He wipes sweat from his brow.

“Just… take a break. G’nna go outside to smoke, hopefully catch a breeze.” He mutters.

As he leaves the room, a disturbing thought crosses your mind. The shirt clinging to his broad shoulders and his back muscles flexing as he reaches for the door handle makes you question… Is Javi attractive? Well, obviously, he is, to every other woman in Colombia. But is Javi attractive to you? Not up until now, his personality thoroughly put you off. But the way he looked from behind, even with those patches of sweat staining his shirt… or, maybe, especially with those patches of sweat…

“What the fuck.” You mutter.

This heat really is making you insane. You physically shake your head to try and rid yourself of the thought. Javier fucking Peña. Yeah right.

You return your focus to the document he was attempting to discuss with you before. It was a transcript of an intercepted communication, between two parties who you couldn’t understand a reasonable explanation for them now working together. The whole thing sent your head into a spin trying to piece it together.

You knew you were on the edge of a breakthrough. You could feel it. Javi knew it too, and you were both pushing each other to your limits. He was an excellent partner. His job was the only thing he cared about. That might be the only thing you and Javi had in common. As different as the two of you were, the job was where you found mutual respect, and that was all that mattered.

Heat creeped up your chest and around the back of your neck. It was practically choking, consuming every single sense and causing a layer of impenetrable fog to settle in your mind. Being off your game at a critical point in your investigation was less than optimal.

Javi entered again and you analysed his features. If the heat was affecting him as much as it was you, he was doing a good job at not showing it.

“How are you coping with this? I feel like I’m about to be swallowed by the sun.” You groan exaggeratedly.

“Grew up in Texas.” He shrugs.

“Really?” You say, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes.” He says, meeting your eyes. “Is that surprising?”

“Yeah. I thought Southerners were gentlemen."

“Maybe I am.” He responds, holding a bottle of water to his forehead.

You scoff and then clear your throat. “Anyway, I’m reading this again. I can’t help but think this is a code name for some kind of object or thing, not a person. If it was a person they would have come up before now. There are only so many people that run in these circles, I just don’t think we could have missed someone this important.”

He tilts his head from side to side, considering your suggestion. As he does so, the tendons in his neck protrude and you see how his tanned skin sparkles as it glistens with sweat.

Finally, he responds, “Maybe. But for what? These guys aren’t geniuses. Think we can work out the code?”

“I don’t know.” You say. “Not any further forward on that part.”

You fan yourself with some scrap paper you have folded and concertinaed carefully. You throw your head back in your seat and sigh deeply.

When you sit back up and open your eyes again, you think you find Peña’s gaze trained on your chest, but he quickly looks away.

You feel yourself equally irritated and intrigued by his staring. You had never noticed him look at you like this before.

“Everything OK, Jav?” You say, trying to sound casual.

“Yeah- Yeah. I’m good. Just- Yeah.” His eyes linger on yours for a moment and he runs his hand across his forehead, wiping away beads of sweat.

You both continue to work, but you feel his eyes continually flicking back to you, telling you he is not focussed either.

You feel as though the tension continues to build as you both try and work, and you want to tell yourself it’s not just because of the heat. But you are worried this is one-sided. Even if that would mean you were the only woman in Colombia Javi wasn’t interested in sleeping with.

As the day goes on, painfully slowly, you find yourself more and more distracted by his presence and frustrated with your lack of progress in your investigation.

You curse loudly.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, his gaze intense.

“I’m just… I’m so frustrated, Peña. I don’t know what to do about it.” You sigh.

“I’m sure I know how I could help you deal with it.” He says, with a glint in his eye.

You scowl at him. Now that had to have been intentional flirting.

“I feel like no matter what we do we are always running in circles chasing our own tails. How do they always stay one step ahead of us. Like you said, these guys aren’t geniuses.”

“Hey.” He says, his expression stern. “Don’t talk like that. We’ll get ‘em.”

“Every day that goes on we are losing more. I feel like I’ve already given all of myself and more to this investigation.”

He had closed the distance between you, and placed his hand over yours where you fiddled with your pen on the desk. The touch burned.

“Let me take your mind off it.” He says, something unfamiliar behind his eyes.

You ignore him, and slide the memo on your desk over towards him. “Can you assign someone else to the stakeout tomorrow. We have to be in for the meeting with-“

He cuts you off, grumbling, “You always use work talk to distract guys hitting on you?”

“Hitting on m- Jesus, Peña. The heat makin’ you fuckin’ stupid?” You shoot back.

“Maybe.” He shrugs. But he doesn’t step away from you.

“You believe in shitting where you eat?” You continue.

“Not usually. But I can see how frustrated you are. I’d be a bad partner to let you suffer like this.” He smirked.

You raise an eyebrow at him. You know the answer to your question but you want to hear him say it. “What are you suggesting?”

He leans in closer, “I’m suggesting I help you forget work a while, let me relieve some of your tension. Maybe it’ll force a breakthrough.”

“Yeah right.” You say. You turn to face him, looking for any sign in his dark eyes that he isn’t being serious in his proposition. Any sign of hesitation or doubt. Any sign that it is all some joke. But you don’t find it.

His moustache tickles as he whispers in your ear. His hot breath sends shivers down your spine. “You know you want it. Let me help you.”

You want to say no, but your body betrays you as you find yourself being acted on by what seems like a magnetic force, drawing you closer to him.

You manage to produce one more protest, but it comes out weak, as though you are trying to convince yourself for a reason to say no. “That would be unprofessional.”

“Who’s gonna report us?” He taunts. “You?”

You find yourself shaking your head in response to his question, and he pounces on you, connecting his lips to yours in a desperate kiss.

An oppressive heat continues to suffocate your body, but this one isn’t from the conditions in the office, this is a fire that is coming from within, a burning flame stoked by the attraction and desire that has come over the two of you.

You give in to the feeling of him as his hands roam all over you, unbuttoning your blouse hastily and discarding it. A mixture of excitement and guilt nags at you. This is your partner. This is wrong. And not just any partner, it’s Javier Peña. He has screwed at least half the women in Medellin. This is not how you should be behaving.

But at the same time, you can’t deny the intense chemistry between you in this moment. The way your desperation and hunger perfectly matches his. The way he whispers dirty words in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

His cock is already straining against his tight jeans, and you reach a hand up to palm him through the denim.

He sighs at the feeling and puts his hands on your waist, pulling you up and guiding you to sit on the desk. A strong hand parts your thighs and creeps upwards, pressing against the thin fabric of your panties. You moan into his mouth, and then blush, embarrassed by the affect his touches are having on you so quickly.

He continues to rub gently against the fabric and you reach towards him to release his belt buckle. You fumble with it and he pushes your hands away impatiently and takes it off himself, unzipping his jeans and taking out his erect cock.

He strokes himself a few times and you watch, transfixed, your breathing shallow.

He stops and gathers the hem of your skirt, pushing it up to your hips to release your thighs. He spreads you wide and pushes your underwear to the side, not bothering to remove it as he plunges two fingers inside you.

You gasp and he starts off with an already quick pace, hammering in and out of you and curling them inside you to reach the most pleasurable spots. It doesn’t take long until your legs are shaking, your hands gripping the edge of the desk to steady yourself. You were already sweating from the heat but now you feel as though you are melting, struggling to catch your breath and releasing desperate whines of pleasure.

His thumb reaches up to rub your clit and you moan, “Javii-”

“You like that, huh?”

He attaches his lips to your neck, sucking lightly before moving down to the valley between your collarbones, licking up beads of salty sweat that have gathered there. He moans into your skin and the sound goes right through you, you twitch and start to feel an orgasm rising inside you.

“You gonna come for me before I even fuck you, huh?” He taunts, “More desperate than I thought.”

You ignore his cocky commentary and focus on the feeling of his hands on you. You can’t deny he is skilled and knows exactly the right pace and rhythm to bring you your release quickly.

The pressure on your clit increases and he rubs faster circles around it. Tension builds in your stomach.

“Don’t stop.” You gasp out.

His other hand has reached back to stroke his cock roughly, and he lets out small sounds of pleasure into your ear. You didn’t expect him to be this vocal but it turns you on.

Your pleasure is reaching its peak and he senses it too, toying with your clit unrelentingly as you writhe on the desk beneath him, the cool surface doing nothing to calm the heat inside you. Your legs tense up as your orgasm washes over you, you lose your stability and fall backwards atop the papers and documents strewn across the desk. Your back arches and his movements don’t slow down, unashamed cries of pleasure streaming from you as you ride out your orgasm.

He shifts slightly and there isn’t a moment of rest until he removes his fingers and replaces them with his hard cock. He plunges deep inside you on the first thrust, the hairs at the base of his cock rubbing against your clit, almost driving you to overstimulation with your orgasm barely subsided.

He sets a punishing pace with his haps, snapping against you hard and fast, your cunt greedily clenching and tightening around him every single time he buries himself inside you.

“Feel so good. Don’t know why I waited this long.” He mutters.

You whine, unable to form a coherent response. One of his hands is squeezing at your chest and the other is gripping your hip, pulling you down on him harder to intensify the force of every single thrust.

He is everything you thought he would be, hungry and passionate and clearly practiced in the art of both giving and taking pleasure.

Your sounds echo around the room. Neither of you worry about this, knowing the office was nearly empty. Even then, your desire for him clouds your mind so far to the extent that you don’t think you would mind being caught anyway. It was worth the risk.

He takes both of your legs and manoeuvres you, bending them and lifting them up so they lazily rest against his shoulders. Thank god for yoga, you think.

The new position tightens you up and somehow allows him even deeper access. You moan shamelessly and he grunts with every single thrust. His pace is unrelenting and you feel him becoming more and more forceful with each one, chasing his climax.

“Can I come inside you?” He asks through gritted teeth.

You are unable to form words, you nod, your mouth hanging open but no sounds come out other than strangled gasps.

“Fuckkk.” He grunts, turned on even more at the prospect of filling you up and it sends him over the edge.

He spills into you, your name thrown in amongst the curses he mutters as he comes. He keeps a tight hold of you as he steadies his breathing.

Moments after he releases inside you, you feel the relief he had been promising. You close your eyes and let out a deep, contented sigh.

And then, suddenly, they fly open again.

“Move!” You almost yell, pushing his chest away from you.

“Move. I’ve got it.” He pulls himself away from you and you leap up, pulling your skirt back down. You grab a pen and begin scribbling frantic notes over the transcript.

“I’ve got it.” You repeat.

“Worked even better than I imagined.” He teased, smirking as he buttoned his jeans and re-fastened his belt before coming to join you and see the revelation you had come to.

“Good to know.” He adds, “Nice tactic for the future.”

You roll your eyes at him and thrust the paper towards him with satisfaction. He might be right, it might have been the sex that did the trick, but you would never admit it.

More Javier Peña oneshots:

Over and Done With | Partners | All Work, No Play | Little Games

[kentopedia]

❝𝐖𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐋𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄❞ welcome to kentopedia's love through the ages collab. in honor of another lonely valentine’s day, i wanted to combine my two greatest loves: history and literature! so this is for anyone who wants a passionate romance and loves the aesthetics of the past. because i know that no matter when you live and die, your favs will always choose you ♡

STATUS: CLOSED

♛ — TO JOIN

submit a piece based off a time in history you find interesting. it can be an au of your favorite classic novel, a song you enjoy from a period before your own, a piece of art you enjoy, or something entirely your own. be creative!!

please reblog this post & send me an ask with the character you'd like to write about and the inspiration. for example: "nanami + renaissance" (which is what i’ll be writing teehee).

♛ — REQUIREMENTS

no fandom limitation, but i will cap it off at 2 entries per character (i won’t count mine in that limit!). and you can join as many times as you want.

this is a historical au collab, so i will not accept any submissions based in the 21st century :) but it can go back as far as you want!

there is no deadline. minimum of 500 words, but no maximum. i love long fics! please use the read more feature on your posts.

♛ — OTHER

anyone can join, this is not limited to followers. no age requirement, but you must be 18+ to submit nsfw pieces, with an age indicator. make sure to follow the rules of all creators involved (including me!).

submissions can be as historically accurate or inaccurate as you want them to be, and could include fantasy elements too! this is all about capturing the aesthetics of a time period, but i will never limit anyone’s creativity. it can be extremely niche too!

all forms of art are welcome, not just writing, as long as they are of your own creation.

nsfw, sfw, dark content, etc. is all acceptable. be sure to tag accordingly!

♛ — TO SUBMIT

tag me in your submission so i can also add you to the masterlist. also, link this post on your submission to spread the love to other readers! i will be reading all the submissions and reblogging with feedback as well. let me know if you have any questions!

bungo stray dogs . . .

nakahara chuuya and post wwii yakuza by @cheriiyaya

nakahara chuuya and the 1800s italian mafia by @osaemu

dazai osamu & fyodor dostoevsky as rival painters in the renaissance by @aureatchi

dazai osamu & fyodor dostoevsky in the trojan war by @fyorina

fyodor dostoevsky and victorian era royalty by @verlainepaul

dazai osamu as a fallen angel by @chuuyrr

jujutsu kaisen . . .

nanami kento and the renaissance by @kentopedia

okkotsu yuta as an edo period samurai by @anqelically

gojo satoru & geto suguru and the medieval period by @flowerpersephone

geto suguru as a nineteenth century vampire by @todorokies

nanami kento and the victorian era by @starsinmylatte

gojo satoru and orpheus and eurydice by @forest-hashira

geto suguru and the american old west by @forest-hashira

geto suguru and phantom of the opera by @mynahx3

geto suguru and ancient greece by @mochimooon

nanami kento and the heian period by @purpleqilinwrites

fushiguro toji as a medieval bandit by @honeybleed

true form sukuna ryomen and ancient greece by @girlwithsharpt33th

okkotsu yuuta and post apocalyptic 1600s by @atsquie

nanami kento as a medieval knight by @mynahx3

nanami kento and the regency period by @kentopedia

nanami kento and ancient japan by @mynahx3

attack on titan . . .

reiner braun as a wwii soldier by @thel0v3hashira143

levi ackerman and the impressionist era by @be-co-me

armin arlert and the early 20th century by @crazychaoticizzy

eren jaeger and the age of piracy by @bloompompom

demon slayer . . .

shinazugawa sanemi and antony & cleopatra by @mitsuristoleme

tengen uzui and the roaring 20s by @forest-hashira

haikyuu . . .

kuroo tetsurō and the space race by @ktsumu

kuroo tetsurō & iwaizumi hajime in regency era inspired japan by @jarjarwinx

persona 5 . . .

akira kurusu and the prohibition era by @clubkira

genshin impact . . .

albedo as a renaissance artist by @clubkira

dainsleif in the greatest showman by @rubysm

blue lock . . .

noel noa and indonesian colonization by