#rip that poor worker

[stanfordpines-enbyhusband]

I absolutely love this gif so fucking much lol

Just Henry's Tender explored and killed a man

[two-sibyls-tall]

just made a pull list for the first time !! they have an app that shows all the comics in stock,, hmm I’ll just add some titles to my cart that I’ve been curious about- OH GODS OH FUCK MY CART IS $400 HOW DID THIS HAPPEN

[sooniebby]

ఌ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

꧁ 𝙎𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙪 𝙭 𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ꧂

w.c. › 3.8k

Plot › you end up winning a call to a camboy/sex worker, you watch a lot!! Though it’s a bit embarrassing learning you’re one of the few men in his usual audience. Based off this.

Warnings › gojo a bit cocky sometimes—this takes place in a normal world. Reader is 19, gojo is 25. Some… straight stuff mentioned cuz gojo fucks a girl during his streams, bi gojo agenda!!

Kinks › praise, size kink, (attempts at) dirty talk…

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

: ̗̀➛

𝘾𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙣 𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜

𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙫𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙤 𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝

𝗦𝗶𝘅𝗲𝘆𝗲!

↳ ᴄʟɪᴄᴋ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇ

: ̗̀➛

No way. You just gasped in your coffee shop, literally as your coworker was calling for you to serve a cake to someone.

You were never a lucky person. Most and every thing you ever entered in a prize to win something, being money or an item, you never won. Never, not once. You had assumed you just was an unlucky guy in those type of things.

So when you applied for the giveaway for the chat, you did it just cause.

And you won!

You fucking won.

“(Name) if you don’t hurry up and serve this poor lady her cake!” Your coworker, Nobara screamed.

You rushed out with the cake and quickly gave the girl it, ignoring the glare she gave you for being so rushed. That didn’t matter! You had to tell Nobara. You practically sprinted to her and dragged her to the employee lounge.

“What is your problem?” She asked, pulling her arm away from your tight grip. “It’s like you were trying to rip my arm off…”

“Look, look!” You shoved your phone in her face, earning a tight glare as she snatched it out of your hands. Her eyes glanced over the screen as she mumbled to herself, reading the message. It took about thirty seconds before she seemed to understand what the fuck she was reading.

“Seriously? You got a free call with your favorite pornstar?” She placed your phone on the countertop and shuffled over to the fridge.

“You don’t understand! I hardly ever win giveaways!”

Nobara glanced back at you. “Okay, same here. Are you alright, (Name)? Are the toys not enough?” She asked with a fake sense of pity.

You glared at her. “The toys are just fine!”

“Sure, sure. Well, what do you get from the win?”

“Uh, a free thirty minute private chat.”

“She’s also a camgirl?”

“No… it’s a camboy.”

Nobara blinked. “Oh. So it’s a gay camboy.”

“Also.. no… he’s only fucked women on the videos he posted on Twitter..”

Nobara sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Let’s hope he’s not going to be upset a dude just won his giveaway.”

You panicked slightly, “wait, you think he’ll be upset?”

“Maybe not. But if I were you, I’d make sure to not show my face on camera or speak on the mic.” She said, patting you on the back before leaving the lounge.

Any sort of happiness basically dwindled. She was right. You didn’t know this guy and while realistically, he can’t do anything to hurt you… He could end up getting angry and disgusted you won his call when the majority of his fan base has always been women.

Reaching over, you grabbed your phone and looked at the email, wondering if it’d be worth it. Just as you were about to email back that you couldn’t do it—you got a text message on your Twitter.

𝙎𝙞𝙭𝙚𝙮𝙚 𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖 𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙖𝙜𝙚 :

↳ Did you get the email?

You fainted.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

“You boys are so overdramatic.”

You can hear Nobara judging you. You feel the soft winds of someone fanning you, your head resting gently on their legs. With hesitance, you open your eyes, the harsh fluorescent lights blinding you.

Oh, it’s just Inumaki and Megumi.

Inumaki was the one holding your head on his lap while Megumi lazily fanned you with a makeshift paper fan. Megumi rolled his eyes once he noticed you were awake, moving to get up from the floor.

“Good?” Megumi asked, holding his hand out as he helped you get up.

‘We found you on the floor,’ Inumaki signed, getting up as well. ‘What happened?’

You pursed your lips, unsure if you wanted to tell them that you got shocked that a pornstar you’ve been following for over a year now messaged you. Nobara was heard stifling with laughter in the corner.

You quickly, and messily, signed that you were fine back to Inumaki. “Uh, just felt lightheaded. Y’know how the AC isn’t working well anymore.”

“Like those toys.” Nobara suddenly said.

‘Toys?’ Inumaki signed.

“You know what I mean, that emo boy of yours must use them too,” she said, ignoring the sudden blush on Inumkai’s face. Megumi groaned and moved to get his apron to begin his shift.

“Shut it, Nobara.” You whispered, glaring at her. She simply shrugged, smirking gleefully at the embarrassment she was bringing to you. You slipped out of your apron and placed it back, grabbing your bag as you began to clock out.

Inumaki and Megumi usually took over once you and Nobara were finished.

As you and Nobara left the cafe, she grinned mischievously at you. You looked straight ahead, not wanting to entertain her teasing.

“So, it couldn’t have been the email that you made you pass out like that. What was it?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullcrap!”

With a swiftness, your phone in your back pocket was gone. She easily dodged you as she began checking your phone, trying to see what had caused your fainting spell. Once she checked your notifications, she barked out a laugh.

“Oh he practically wants you! ‘Did you get the email?’ So desperate already,” she snickered, beginning to type something on your phone.

“Nobara?!”

After hitting send, she pushed your phone to your face, showing what she had just sent him.

𝙢𝙤𝙤𝙣𝙞𝙚𝙗𝙪𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙚

↳ yes!!! <333

↳ Sorry, I was just so shocked I won!!!

What time are you thinking about?

“Mooniebunnie? What type of username…”

“I made it when I was like fourteen! Don’t judge.”

“Jeez, you’ve been on Twitter that long?”

“Nobara!!”

“Oh he responded.”

“Hah?!”

𝙎𝙞𝙭𝙚𝙮𝙚

↳ took you long enough.

↳ Saturday, 9 pm. I’ll only wait 5 minutes

↳ after the 30 minutes, you’re paying.

“Dick. The fucks his problem?”

“What’d he say?”

“You’d think he’s the one taking the dick up his ass.”

“Nobara..!”

“What? You can’t tell me this doesn’t come across as rude?”

She began typing for you again.

𝙢𝙤𝙤𝙣𝙞𝙚𝙗𝙪𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙚

↳ just don’t disappoint me, 4 inch

↳ kisses <3

“Nobara?! What the hell?!”

“Hey, he started it. Anyway, your date is in two days. Good thing you don’t have a roommate anymore.”

You glared at her as she handed you back your phone. He didn’t seem to text back after that—only having a note that he certainly did read Nobara’s text. But to him, it was your text.

Gosh, you really didn’t want him to hate you.

But Nobara was right, he did seem a bit rude over text. Maybe he just texts a bit harsh but in person is nice.

Though it honestly felt you were creating excuses in your head at this point.

After splitting ways, you made it home to your small apartment. It was comfortable enough so you didn’t complain. Especially since it was in a good area. Nobara and her roommate, Maki, weren’t so lucky in the area they lived in.

Though it seemed like the burglaries that were happening there had finally slowed down.

Decorated in second hand items and anything you stole from your ex boyfriend and mother, your apartment was homey enough. The good thing was that you got an amazing view of the sunset in your room every afternoon.

The kitchen, dining, and living room was essentially just one full room. You had a foldable table to bring out whenever you ate dinner. Your tv was taken from your ex boyfriend, which was why it was so brand new compared to everything else.

You only have two other rooms. The master bedroom with an attached bathroom, and a small, small bedroom. You practically just made it an extra closet space because it was just too cramped to be in there for long period of times.

Especially with the fact it only had a small tiny square window all the way close to the ceiling.

It was after 8 p.m. when you plopped down onto your bed, finishing your daily home tasks. Washing the dishes, warming up dinner, watching a BL drama while crying in loneliness, and now—masturbation time.

You scrolled your phone, wondering if you should wank it out to some random twitter videos or go to the cam website.

Just as you were about to pull up your list of comfort gay videos, a notification rang on your phone.

𝙎𝙞𝙭𝙚𝙮𝙚 𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙙 ➤ ❝a creamy fill❞

Your fingers moved lightning speed. A bit embarrassing, really. Slipping off your boxers, you reached over and grabbed your lube, squirting a good amount on your fingers.

Despite him constantly fucking girls—you always watched. Something about him was captivating, even though you never saw his face. The girls face was almost always shown. But like always, the comments are filled with girls saying they love him.

The video started out with the girl in his lap, withering as his fingers spread her pussy open, his other hand resting comfortably on her throat. The only sliver of emotion you could see from him, was the small angle of his lips in frame.

Like always, he was smirking.

You never really enjoyed the beginning of his videos, since it focused heavily on getting the girl to cum from oral sex. Which was good for the girls—but not for you.

So, you usually focused on getting yourself ready for your dildo.

It was one you bought on a whim. But you had never meant for it to be so large, a length of seven, more so eight, inches. You would’ve thrown the thing out if it wasn’t the only dildo you had.

And there was no way you were going to go back to that sex store and get a new one.

You tuned them out for a few minutes, focusing on stretching yourself. It was always tedious, wishing it was someone else doing it for you. Just as you felt ready enough for your dildo, you finally glanced back at your phone.

The girl was now screaming, in pleasure, as he slammed his hips against her ass. It harsh and unforgiving—leaving the girl no chance to stay still. They were in a doggy style position, her face right up to the camera as she mewled and cried.

His grip was on her waist, pulling her back whenever she tried to pull away a bit in a way to slow it down.

“That’s a good girl.”

Boner gone.

You groaned. You loved hearing his voice, he sounded hot. But you hated it whenever he used that fucking word. Any type of “girl” or even more feminine terms always made you lose your boner.

There was nothing else you could really do at that point.

That’s why you mainly watched his solo streams.

With a huff, you placed your dildo back in its drawer and turned off your phone just as the girl reached her climax.

This guy was obviously straight…

You were really wondering if it’d be worth it.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

“Ready for your big day, (Name)?”

‘What big day?’

You quickly glared at Nobara, hoping she wouldn’t tell Inumaki anything. Inumaki looked a bit confused—mostly in why you were so angry.

Isn’t today supposed to be special?

“Oh, nothing. It’s just… Saturday, who doesn’t love a Saturday?”

Inumaki raised an eyebrow. ‘It’s a normal Saturday.’

“Mhm, not for our (L.Name) (Name) here.” She winked, obviously enjoying the flushed look on your face.

The entire shift was spent with Nobara making innuendos and Inumaki looking confused by the minute. It wasn’t until your shift was over, and Megumi and Itadori came, that Nobara seemed to just blurt it out to Inumaki.

“He won a call with his favorite pornstar!”

‘You have a favorite pornstar..?’

“Nobara!” You screamed, slapping your hand against her lips as she stared at you in triumph.

Looking back at Inumaki who didn’t seem to be judging you, just a bit perplexed. Which isn’t shocking. He has a fucking boyfriend—you doubted he needed to watch pornstars religiously to get his socks off.

You shrieked as Nobara licked your hand, forcing you to pull away and quickly wipe them off on your pants.

“Yeah! That’s what I said! Who has a favorite pornstar?!”

“Shut it!!”

Inumaki gave you a shrug, ‘no need to be embarrassed. We all have weird habits.’

Somehow that felt less comforting.

You signed back a thanks to Inumaki before turning your anger to Nobara. She willfully began whistling as she walked down the street, not paying you any mind.

In all honesty, you just hoped the call wouldn’t end up with you in tears.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

𝙎𝙞𝙭𝙚𝙮𝙚

↳ here’s the link.

↳ join in twenty minutes

Dick.

Nobara was right. With a huff, you set your busted laptop on the bed in front of you. It was a miracle this laptop could even come to life. As you were deep in thought, wondering if you were feeling brave enough to really join, you heard the sound of a ping.

It took a moment, but then you accepted the link, joining a private call with Sixeye.

It was his usual set up for his live streams. The sight of a wall decorated with bookshelves. You always just assumed it was an office room he had. He was dressed in a compression shirt and grey sweatpants.

Huh, he usually dressed nice for his cams because his fan girls loved seeing him in suits.

Something something daddy issues.

Guess you weren’t special enough for that.

“Guess you aren’t putting on your camera?”

You quickly typed a simple no. No way in hell were you showing this guy your face—no matter how many times you had cummed to his videos. A simple chuckle was heard. His camera was pointed solely at his chest and bottom half, his face no where in sight.

Which was natural, the most he ever showed was his lips.

Girls just went wild for a cool smirk or something.

“No requests? Usually you girls are quick to give me a whole script.” His laugh filled the room.

↳ Just act natural

You type, hoping that was enough to make him get straight into it. He was quiet for a moment, as if he was reading your text. It seemed he took your words to heart as he pulled down his sweatpants and his cock plopped out, resting against his stomach.

“Alright, just want a quick fap then.”

He reached down and rubbed his tip, teasing the slit as he slowly began jacking himself off. His cock was large, maybe around seven inches? It was similar to your dildo. His hands were big too. Gosh, everything about him was big.

He was definitely the one who helped you figure out your size kink.

The only sound by now was his soft grunts and his hand jerking off his cock. You slipped off your boxers and easily slipped in three fingers inside of yourself, having stretched it out a bit earlier. Now, you were just trying to get yourself excited.

You reached down to your laptop, moving it a bit further so you could get comfortable on the bed with more leg room. Your fingers rubbed against your prostate, teasing it just the way you wanted.

Your moans were always on the more high pitched side, almost sounding similar to a girl when you reached your orgasm. So it was something you were a bit self conscious of. But being alone in your own home, you didn’t hold back.

Rubbing against your prostate, your toes curled as you whimpered and bucked into your own hand. You tried to push back any feeling of disappointment that it wasn’t someone else making you feel this way.

“Changed your…mind, baby?”

“Ngh..?”

You opened your eyes and glanced back down at your laptop.

Oh god.

Your fucking mic was on!!!!

You screamed out, quickly clasping your mouth shut as you stared at the screen in horror. He heard you. He heard every little gasp and whimper you had made. How long had he heard you?

Why didn’t he fucking say anything?

“Screamer, huh? Noted.”

He teased. Even without seeing his face, you knew he was smirking.

“You….why didn’t you tell me?” You muttered, glaring at the screen.

But he didn’t answer. He seemed quiet for a moment. You watched as his hand stuttered on his cock. What? Did your voice sound that terrible?

“Speak.”

“Wha..?” You whispered, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

“Speak now. Loud and clear.”

You hated how authoritative he sounded. It felt like you couldn’t just no respond to his command.

“Uhm… why didn’t you tell me…?” You spoke louder, allowing your mic to pick up your voice this time. You thought maybe he just didn’t hear you.

“Shit. You’re a guy?”

With a brave face, you huffed. “Judging me?”

“No. Fucking finally.”

You felt yourself blush. He was… excited? He began stroking his cock again but this time, with more vulgarity. It was like he was actually turned on by you. You felt your own cock twitch.

Someone… interested… in you?

You grabbed your dildo that rested beside you on the bed, rubbing it against your hole. Any sort of self consciousness you felt with your moaning was thrown out the window as you didn’t hold anything back. Fuck it if you regretted it later.

Right now, you’re going to enjoy it.

As your dildo began stretching you full, you glanced at the button that would turn your camera on. This was a one time thing…

He’d never see you again…

Fuck it.

“Well aren’t you adorable..? Fuck, how big is it?”

“Seven… inches.” You whispered, feeling embarrassed about showing yourself. Your sweating body, flushed face, watery eyes, and your cock leaking on your tummy. You were glad you didn’t see his face…

So you didn’t have to know if he actually found you cute.

“Always the cute ones.” His laugh sounded strained, a soft huff following it as he continued teasing his tip. “Like it big, huh? Stretching you until you can’t take it anymore.”

“Didn’t.. mean to… get it so big.” You moaned, slowly teasing the dildo inside. Your camera was angled right between your legs, showing him the entire picture of the dildo slowly inching inside your puckered hole.

You arched your back, gasping once it finally reached its hilt, stuffing you full.

“Keep looking at the camera.”

You hadn’t even noticed you couldn’t be seen anymore. Moving around a bit, your face finally showed back on the camera. And you got a good sight of just how fucked out you looked just from a damn dildo.

“Good boy.” He whispered. “Y’know… I always put on a show for you guys—it’s time you do the same, hm?”

If you weren’t already itching for an orgasm, you would’ve ended the call immediately out of embarrassment. But you couldn’t back down now.

So, you moved to rest against your headboard, bringing in your laptop to get a good view of your face and ass. Tightening your grip on your dildo, you began thrusting it in and out, keeping a fast pace.

Your hips moved against the pace, your thoughts filled with the desire of a real cock fucking you. His hand gripping your waist, bouncing you on his cock like a toy just for his pleasure. But you had to deal with this pisspoor dildo.

The sound of squelching, your moans, and his grunts filled the room. You were so close, wishing to moan his name but no way in hell were you going to moan his fucking username.

“W…wan..na…moan..name..” you barely sputtered out, your moans betraying you whenever you tried to speak a full sentence. A cry left your throat when the dildo brushed against your prostate. You quickly made sure to continuously hit that area, your moans reaching higher in pitch.

Your orgasm was close.

You suddenly heard him grunt loudly. When you glanced at the camera, you saw his grip tighten as cum spurted onto his shirt. Did your moans…?

Not wanting to feel any misplaced confidence, you pushed the thought away. No way did your moans make him cum.

The sound of shuffling caught your attention as you saw him reach for his camera.

And then—

The camera was on his fucking face.

His lips turned up into a smirk, his eyes staring straight into yours. Blue eyes and white hair. It looked soft even though the camera.

You came.

You fucking came.

Man, maybe those girls were right about smirks being sexy…

Your toes curled as you arched your back, gripping the bedsheets as your cock came all over your stomach. The only sound left was the sound of your heavy breathing as you tried to calm down—having never orgasmed that intensely before.

“Did you… cum from seeing my face?”

He sounded so fucking cocky.

“Bye!” You yelled, slamming your laptop shut.

You totally did.

You sat in your room for about two minutes before screaming in embarrassment. No way in hell could you ever watch his streams again!!! You came!! You came from seeing his face!!

God….

That was embarrassing…

At least you would never interact with him again.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

“No way! From his face?!”

Nobara screamed laughing, her cackling echoing in the empty cafe. You could only focus on putting the cakes on display, trying to ignore the embarrassment in your heart.

“Gosh! Megumi! You heard about—”

“Don’t bring me into this.” He answered bluntly.

It had been a few days now since the… incident. You had blocked Sixeye’s account and haven’t watched any of his streams or videos ever since. It was just too embarrassing to watch them without thinking on how you came just from seeing his face.

But you kept thinking, why did he show his face?

It wasn’t like you were anything special. As the three of you continued getting the cafe ready for opening, Nobara continued making fun of you at any given chance. Megumi seemed to be in his own mind.

You had went to the back to grab some cups for the lattes and when you came back to the front, Megumi and Nobara were already speaking to some guy. He looked pretty tall, practically towering over Nobara.

But his back was facing you so you didn’t know who it was.

“Why are you even here?” Megumi asked, glaring at the stranger.

“Oh! Aren’t you Megumi’s friend?” Nobara questioned.

“Don’t insult me like that,” Megumi rolled his eyes before grunting as the stranger wrapped his arm around his neck.

“Aah~ Megumi~~ don’t be like that! I heard the cakes here were good. Can’t I try them??? Hm~?” The stranger teased, laughing slightly.

“Get off, you’re not getting a discount.”

“I didn’t say I wanted one… but now that you mentioned it~”

Nobara laughed, “no wonder you called him a blue eyed freak! He’s so annoying.”

“Megumi?!”

Megumi shrugged. “I’ve called you worse in my head. (Name), take Gojo’s order before I kick him out.”

Gojo huffed before finally turning over to face you. Your eyes widened once you finally got a good look of him. It…

Sixeye?!

The cup you were holding were slipping out of your hands as Gojo tilted his head, eyes narrowing at your face before widening in recognition. A grin appeared on his lips.

“Today’s my lucky day, huh?”

It definitely wasn’t yours.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

Oop? Yall want a part 2? It’s so hard writing phone/facetime sex… I praise those who write it constantly lmao

Tag list: @chill-guy-but-cooler @tomoeroi @remdayz @tehyunnie @flurrina @rhetorical-conscience @kiiyoooo @iwishtobeacrow @love-kha1 @star-3214 @smellwell @ofclyde @the-ultimate-librarian @teyvat-writer

[euthymiya]

Poor wrio comes home to you after a long day, so you surprise him with new lingerie from chiori’s boutique because you’re a good, sweet girlfriend 🙂‍↔️ no this isn’t based on that one scene in your fic

surprise compensation ft. wriothesley

wriothesley is a hard worker. sometimes, when days are particularly long and rough, you have a surprise or two that makes things worth the troubles

contains: 3.2k word count ; fem reader ; adult content. no minors ; established relationship ; nipple play ; cunnilingus ; fingering ; unprotected vaginal sex ; creampie ; wriothesley is a serial clothes ripper ; one joke about his cuffs

Reforming criminals is tough work. Wriothesley is capable for the job, of course—he thinks the state of the fortress under him compared to past years is proof enough that he does the job better than anyone else has. But regardless, it’s tough work.

Sometimes they send him ruffians for inmates. They come to him pent up and aggressive. They don’t miss a beat at lunging at him once the cuffs come off, ready to pick a fight and blow steam off on the warden of the prison himself. Wriothesley’s capable though—both in administration and in a fist fight.

That doesn’t make him rub his jaw any less from the sore spot where a punch landed today. It’s rare to get a hit on him, but not entirely impossible. He walks into your bedroom, grumbling under his breath as he rubs into the tenseness of his jawline as you sit up straighter in bed at his arrival.

“M’back, sweetheart,” he mumbles, giving you a tired grin as he carefully lays himself over your body, groaning as his muscles relax for the first time all day on top of your forgiving body.

“Rough day?” You ask sympathetically, titling his head up to inspect the blossoming bruise along his skin.

“You have no idea.”

“New prisoners give you trouble?” You smile knowingly, rubbing a hand over his back, pressing the heel of your palm gently into the tight, punishing knots in his muscles as he grunts into your neck.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he assures. “I put them in place.”

“Not before they set your jaw in place,” you snort, earning a huffed grumble under his breath from him.

“You should see the other guys.” His lips press a small kiss to your skin, sucking gently against your pulse point as he hums approvingly as he inhales your scent. “Rowdy bunch, but I’ll fix ‘em up.”

“Such a hard working duke,” you giggle, “they should compensate you more.”

“Hh?” He chuckles, lifting his head up as he grins at you, “you think so? Think I need deeper pockets for my efforts?”

You hum, leaning in and pressing a slow, but not heatless kiss against his chapped lips, running your hand along his collar until you find the first button, undoing it slightly to reveal more of his sturdy chest. He smiles against your lips, a bit excited, and a little more smug.

“I got you something,” you whisper, voice breathy. He can hear the smile between your words, quirking a brow as he waits for you to continue speaking. “I think you’ll really appreciate it.”

“Who needs better compensation when you’re always rewarding me,” he grins, toothy and charming as he nips at your lips before adding, “plan on showing me this little surprise?”

“Why don’t you unwrap it first,” you murmur, grabbing his hand and guiding it to the hem of your shirt.

His breath hitches—something more carnal, more desperate settles itself into his skin, flushing it a hot shade of crimson along his cheeks and chest, radiating heat along his fingertips that sear into your skin as he works them under your shirt, grazing along your body until they finds your breasts.

He feels the lace, and instantly, he can tell it’s not one he recognizes. It’s new. Something he hasn’t seen yet—it makes him let out a sound of impatience, deep and guttural from his chest as he says huskily, “well, if I must do the work, then so be it.”

He rips your shirt clean off with one tug. It’s his shirt, actually, but you claim it as your own—and you take it very personally, too, when it’s split in two from his impatience.

“Wriothesley!” You scold, gasping as the cool air meets your skin while he discards the torn shreds of fabric.

“There’s more where that came from,” he assures, clicking his teeth as he bites into your neck and says lowly, “let me unwrap my present in peace. I had a long day.”

You roll your eyes, huffing but complying quietly as he admires the dark gray sitting pretty and perfect against your skin, cupping the curves of your breasts beautifully. Wriothesley takes his time, so unlike the impatience he has just moments ago, as he rakes his eyes over your skin slowly. The icy shade of his irises land on the clasp at the front, darkening into a more intense, lust filled shade as they settle on it with interest.

“Like it?” You hum, “Chiori designed it just for me.”

“Did she now?” He raises an eyebrow, trailing a finger along the edge of the padding, tracing the skin of your breast as it spills over the bra, grinning as goosebumps rise where his touch lingers. “I really owe her a proper thank you, don’t I? This’ll make my job a lot easier.”

“It was my idea,” you say petulantly, “what about my thanks?”

“Oh, sweetheart. That’s coming real, real soon.”

You gasp when his hand suddenly undoes the clasp, spilling your tits to the open, cool air of your room as he groans at the sight of your bare chest. He leans down, pressing a kiss to a nipple while you shiver under him.

“All this for me?” he murmurs, hot breath fanning over your skin and contrasting the coolness lingering in the air. “Got a new little set made just for me?”

You nod through a bitten lip, shuddering as he chuckles against you. “Thought you deserved it,” you shiver.

“You shouldn’t have. I might get spoiled, you know.”

“You don’t want to be?” You tease, cutting off yourself slightly with a soft hitch of breath when his rough hand cups the other tit, palm rubbing against a pert nipple and making your eyes flutter closed.

“Oh, I definitely don’t mind,” he flashes you a smooth, toothy grin, one with all too much sharp teeth and all too little shame. “I just think it’ll be a bit of trouble for you to keep up if you get me too spoiled, is all.”

“I don’t think it’s so bad,” you say cheekily, “it’s not exactly a one sided transaction.”

“Oh, I’ll make it worth your while, alright,” he nods—and finally, he wraps his lips around a hardened nipple, grazing his teeth along the nub as his tongue swirls around it, pulling a sweet, helpless little cry from you that shoots straight between his legs where his cock is already half hard.

His rough thumb works the other, rubbing along and pinching teasingly as he whine into his mouth that traps yours into a needy kiss. “Wr-wrio—”

“Yeah baby?” He chuckles, “got something you need’ta say? I’m listening, sweetheart.”

He most certainly is not listening, you want to scowl, because he cuts your words off by pulling a sharp gasp from you as he pinches harder at your clit, making your back arch into the touch as he chuckles. His teeth nip at your jaw, kissing along the skin as your hand cups the back of his head and tangles weak fingers to grasp at his hair.

“You are so….”

“So what?”

“So smug,” you huff, voice strained between pants, “I’m never doing anything nice for you again.”

“Aw, don’t say that, sweetheart,” he pouts theatrically, “you might hurt my feelings. And I didn’t even get to say thank you yet.”

As it seems, Wriothesley’s way of saying thank you is yet again yanking fabric straight off of you, ripping your pants right off your lower half in an unrestrained moment of impatience.

You think you’ll really have to have a chat about his brutish habits one of these days.

“You can’t say thank you by ripping my whole wardrobe,” you gasp, glaring at him with sharp eyes.

“Why would it tear so easily if it wasn’t meant to?” He wriggles his brows, lips curled in a smug, amused little grin that has you melting against the sheets with heat pooling impossibly hotter between your legs at the sight.

Regardless of your irritation at yet another ruined pair of sweats. The conversation can wait until later, though, you think.

“I can’t with you,” you huff.

“Luckily, you don’t have to do much with me, anyway,” he murmurs, lowering his hands to trail over the lacy fabric of your matching gray panties. He marvels at the sight of you, eyes hazy and unfocused as they stay stuck at the dampened spot between your legs. “I-I…I’ll do most of the work,” he stutters.

“Don’t rip these, okay?” You grin, “they cost me a good sum. Surprises aren’t cheap, you know.”

He closes his eyes, exhaling shakily as he mumbles, “you’re trying to kill me, huh?”

You giggle, blinking up at him innocently as you reply, “I’m trying to do something nice for you. You don’t think it’s nice?”

“I think it’s wonderful,” he spreads your legs, hovering between them as he eyes the wet, darkened patch of lace against your dripping cunt even closer, “I just can’t promise I’ll survive long enough to properly appreciate it.”

With that, he presses a kiss against your clit, right through the fabric as you whimper at the minimal contact, twitching into his touch as he laughs.

“Maybe you won’t either,” he flashes a toothy grin, making you huff, unamused.

“Don’t tease,” you scold, “you should be nice to me.”

“You’re right,” he nods, wrenching your thighs apart as he pulls your panties off enough to expose your needy pussy, but not enough to let them past your plush thighs. He like them there, decorating your skin like that for him to see even as he brushes his nose against your clit and kisses at your entrance.

The slick pooling between your legs coats his lips, earning a hum of approval from him as he murmurs, “so sweet. I love this sweet little pussy—don’t you?”

“Wr-wrio—oh, f-fuck,” you arch into him, a surprised gasp leaving your lips, swollen from biting. His tongue is flat against your clit, flicking back and forth against it as his fingers tease your folds, collecting your essence before slowly pressing into your walls.

“Taste so sweet,” he groans, “we don’t have anything like this at the cafeteria.”

“Oh my god,” you whine, slapping his shoulder as he chuckles against your cunt, the vibrations and the hot flash of his breath making you shake against him. “You are so filthy.”

“Yeah? And you’re not having a good time by it?” He challenges, fingers smearing your slick that coats the digits along your inner thigh, grinning as he adds, “you seem like you’re thoroughly enjoying it.”

“Wriothesley,” you plead desperately, “stop teasing. I need you—please.”

“Fuck,” he swears. There’s a harsh twitch of his cock through his pants at the utterly broken sound of your voice—it makes him sink his fingers in instantly before his lips wrap around your clit. “You got me, baby,” he murmurs between sucking on the bundle of nerves, pressing hot, open mouthed kisses against the swollen nub.

“Oh—y-yeah, like that,” you praise, hands finding his hair as your fingers wrap around his strands and tug him impossibly closer. You think he might drown in you—he thinks he might not find a better way to go. “Feels…feels so good, baby.”

He groans into your folds, lapping away at them as his fingers are replaced by his tongue, tasting the sweet, dripping essence of you. His hips grind against the mattress slightly, chasing the slightest bit of friction to relieve the unforgiving throb of his cock.

“M’gonna cum,” you whisper, shaky and broken.

“Then cum,” he demands, “for me.”

You do—like his words command your pleasure. As soon as he tells you to, your cunt flutters with short spasms, pleasure forcing your body into a stiff, tense form as your mouth falls open and your eyes roll back. His tongue works you through your high, traveling between flattening against your clit and fucking into your hole until you’re whining from sensitivity, pulling him away by the hair.

He pulls away. Lips smeared with your slick. Eyes unfocused and dark. Cheeks flushed and red. Hair messed up and plastered to his sweaty forehead.

He looks more fucked out than you, almost. Like he’s just been utterly blissed out to the point of being wrecked just by tasting you.

You giggle, tugging him up to hover over you as you let him pull you into a slow, sensual kiss. You can taste yourself on him. You don’t mind—not when it tastes like his love for you.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, “did you know that?”

“I had a hunch,” you breathe, “you seem to be rather enraptured by me.”

“I’m obsessed with you,” he gives you lazy grin.

You don’t answer—not with words, anyway. Instead, you offer him your reply in the form of a hand sneaking between your bodies, carving space between the press of him against you. Your hand rubs him through his pants, earning a low groan from him as he stiffens over you.

“Your clothes are in the way,” you pout.

He huffs a breathy chuckle through his stifled groans, eyes closed as he mumbles, “that’s a problem, huh?”

“A big one.”

“I can fix that, I think,” he hums.

Watching Wriothesley strip himself of his clothes is intimate. Undressing his scars is like holding a magnifying glass to his past, like studying every dark and hurtful era of his life under a microscope.

It’s nice to know he trusts you like that. It’s even nicer to know he wants to trust you like that. Aches to trust you like that. Needs you to let him trust you like that.

Your fingers run along the scar on his chest, and he shivers at the gentle (something he’s never been used to) feel of you.

“I love you,” you murmur.

“Getting sentimental on me?”

“Yeah,” you grin, “don’t like it?”

“Love it,” he laughs. And then he leans down, nose brushing against yours as he kisses you softer than he has yet to kiss you for the night. So delicate, you’d think you’d break. Maybe he’d break. You’re not sure who he’s trying to keep together at this point. “I love you.”

“Then take me,” you whisper, “I want you.”

His breath hitches at that. Something about the way you look at him makes him decide that taking you isn’t enough. He need to give himself up—needs you to accept him.

“Yeah? And I always want you, sweetheart,” he grins smoothly. Tucked away underneath that smooth, boyish, rough and rugged charm, Wriothesley is gentle. Delicate. Vulnerable.

You can see it in the way his hands shake as they grab your hips to help line himself up with your entrance.

“M’ready, Wrio,” you murmur, pulling him into a soft, open mouthed kiss as he presses his cock against your dripping entrance.

He’s hard—painfully, achingly, and unbearably impatient to feel him around him. The curve of his length has always fit you perfectly, nudged against the right spots and dragged along the perfect ridges of your walls without trying. He sinks into you slowly, inch by inch. Like he’s scared the moment will end too quickly if he goes any faster.

“You feel that?” He groans, once he’s fully pressed into you, buried to the hilt. “Feel what you do to me? You’ll be the death of me one day.”

“They’d get tired of you,” you breathe, strained voice from the way he’s practically splitting you open. “In the afterlife. Send you right back to me.”

He laughs, head burying into your neck before he roughly pulls out just to slam back into you. Once. Twice. Again. Another time. Once more. Until a steady, unwavering rhythm is built and his body is practically one with hours.

“Fuck,” he groans, letting out whiny little pants against your ear that make you question if you’ll near the edge again simply from the sound of him alone. “Fuck, sweetheart—you…you’re so perfect. Take me so nice, make me feel so good.”

“How good?” You ask shakily, voice a strangled, choked version of itself as his thrusts make your words quiver with every snap of his hips.

“Good enough to buy out that damn boutique,” he grunts, “get you every color. Every fabric. Every style. And then I’ll fuck you in all of them to see which one looks best, yeah? You like the sound of that? Think you can handle it? I bet you’d enjoy it, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?”

“Y-yeah,” you nod, eyes tearing at the corners as his fat tip presses against the spongy, sensitive spot against your walls, balls clapping against your ass as his pre cum mixes with your slick and leaves a mess between your bodies.

You don’t mind it though. You like the mess. You like the proof of him taking you, making you his, having you until your mind can’t think straight.

“Gonna need more than that,” he says lowly, biting your shoulder and making you whimper. “Use your words, baby.”

“Yes—yes,” you sob, “I want it. Want it, want it so bad. Want you to take me right there in that fitting room.”

“Oh?” He breathes out a small chuckle, “that’s quite the fantasy. I’ll see what I can do, baby.”

His thumb reaches to find your clit, rubbing harsh circles in sync with his low, strained voice as he calls you baby. You break at that—hurdle into your second orgasm while his fucks into you with a sloppier pace.

“Oh—g-god, Wriothesley! C-cumming,” you gasp.

“That’s my girl,” he groans, “yeah, yeah. Let me feel you, princess. Fuck.”

His hips are frenzied now—like the height of your pleasure being achieved lets him free, lets him stop holding back as he chases his own orgasm desperately.

It doesn’t take long. One tug of his hair from you to pull him out of your neck and into a heated kiss makes him fall off the edge himself, cock twitching and pouring thick, hot ropes of cum into your abused cunt. The aching pleasure between both of your legs should be too much.

It’s never quite enough.

There’s no enough of Wriothesley. He’s not sure there’ll ever be enough you, either.

“Fuck, fuck—you’re so good to me, baby. So sweet. Can’t believe you’re my sweet little thing. Come home to that pretty face and this perfect pussy. What’d I do to deserve it?”

He’s babbling, words falling from his tongue in cracked syllables as he paints your walls white. Finally—finally, after what feels like an eternity of over sensitivity, he stills. Milked dry with the remnants of his sticky release coating your walls, the insides of your thighs, the base of his cock. He doesn’t even bother pulling out—just collapses over your body as he buries his nose between your breasts.

“You think she could make a set that matches my cuffs?” He asks, grinning into your skin.

You huff between labored breaths, slapping his shoulder as you mumble, “I’m not asking that. I have a sense of dignity.”

“You want me to ask?”

“Absolutely not.”

He pouts, looking up at you as he grumbles, “you’re no fun.”

Wow. Don’t ask me why I produced 3k words about lingerie. I just have lots to say on the matter I suppose

[tteokdoroki]

tw ! slight age gap, reader is older, cheating, fingering, smut.

hello going on a business trip or to a conference, escaping your mundane life and the marriage that brings you nothing.

you’ve really gone on this trip to get away from your dead bedroom and the spouse that treats you like nothing more than a money maker.

which leads you to having a chance encounter with bakugou at the bar of the hotel your conference is at. you remember him from one of the panels — he’s young for this field of work but incredibly handsome, has brilliant red eyes that draw you in like magnetising poles, he makes you laugh and from your belly too. he’s everything your current spouse is not, there’s a spark inside you that you haven’t felt in years and bakugou knows it too. he makes you feel beautiful and seen and all he’s done is buy you a drink with a sour olive in it.

you find yourself stumbling behind him after one too many drinks, katsuki guiding you back to your hotel room — the good man that he is. you’ve both got panels to attend tomorrow morning at 9am sharp. it wouldn’t be wise to spend the rest of the night basking in booze and one another’s company. but when you get the door, failing to slip your key card into the slot — the blonde’s hand touches yours to help you get it in and all sense of logic is lost.

you no longer feel drained by mundane life waiting for you back home, you no longer think of your boring spouse in currently sleeping in your marital bed where they fail to make you feel loved. from the moment katsuki’s hand had touched yours, all you could feel was electricity, the longing and the wanting you’ve been desperately craving.

his lips drag sweep across your skin in heated motions and they find pleasure spots you’re not sure you even knew existed. bakugou’s fingers map out every inch of your body as though he may never touch you again, they dip past the forbidden band of your a-line skirt and write secret promises of pleasure against your clit because you’re married and the both of you know this is wrong.

one touch turns into another, dull and thick fingers stretch you open and graze your g-spot with an ease your spouse could never find. you e never felt this good, your lashes flutter against katsuki’s neck as he holds you to his chest and finger fucks you to the high heavens…because you’re just a hardworking woman who hasn’t had her pussy ruined in a long time, not like you deserve. he grins when you cream on just two of his fingers, such a good girl, so easy to please.

“such a pretty girl… such a hard worker ‘n no one to take care of you,” the blonde purrs into your ear before pushing you into the plush pillows and blankets below. there’s a gravel in his voice that raises at the heartbeat between your legs, not to mention the perfect view of him loosening his shirt and tie above you. “s’that why you’ve fallen into bed with the youngest guy here. ‘cause i got what it takes t’keep up with ya, yeah? make you feel better than that poor excuse of a fuck you got back home?”

bakugou grins slow and sexy when your hips rise from the bed on instinct at his words and he kisses you just to reward you, a poor touch starved little thing. its hungry and sloppy and messy and somewhere in the mix of his tongue wrapped around yours and your hands in his hair — the blonde has ripped through your stockings and slipped his aching, dripping slick cock past your quivering entrance.

he feels like home inside you, feels you up to the brim and sends your eyes rolling back into the depths of your skull. every stroke is calculated, every piston of katsuki’s meaty girth purposive and intentional — crafted to make you see stars with every jolt of your body up the bed. you can’t go back to regular old life after tonight, you won’t be able to go back to the way things were without picturing bakugou’s tie hanging loosely above you and hearing his deep moans echo throughout your mind.

that night you leave marks on one another that you’ll be hiding for weeks, smiling at when no one is looking, reminiscing the sinful experience shared in this very hotel room. there’s too much passion in the room for this to just remain a one time thing, too much emotion behind the act saliva swept lip lock or love bite left below the line of future clothes to be worn.

you know that you won’t give katsuki up especially when he kisses you as you cum together, thick white seeping between your swollen and ravaged folds.

you’ll do anything to be underneath bakugou like this again, even if it means planning fake business trips every other weekend to get away from your spouse and get fucked to the high heavens by your young hot colleague.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate, feed into ai & recommend elsewhere.

[im-sleepdeprived]

Can you write something about co-workers to friends to lovers?

fix you up

pairing: peter parker x reader

a/n: i won’t lie to y’all idk how i feel abt this one. its cute dgmw but i hope you guys like it !!! ive had this request for an EMBARRASSINGLY long time, anon if you’re upset, i totally understand

warnings: mentions of injuries, burns, rude customers, bandaging some wounds n stuff, fluff and pining !!! (disclaimer: I’ve never been a barista so forgive me if this is a lil off)

masterlist, requests are open !!

Working in a rustic-vintage-corner-campus-cafe was definitely not how you saw your college years going. Your teen self would’ve killed to work at a place like this but when you grew up, you realized just how different the workload is between a high school student and a uni one such as yourself. 

You weren’t complaining of course. The pay was adequate, your manager was a simple old lady who never had much to say other than making sure all the equipment was clean, you got along with your coworkers pretty well for the most part and the customers were tolerable. 

But every once in a while, you’d get an entitled shithead who seemed to make it their life’s mission to ruin someone else’s day. And the problem with working a social job such as you did, is that you were an easy target. 

It started off as a fairly simple day, you clocked in and put on your apron ready to start your shift for the day. You preferred late morning shifts, leaving afternoons for classes (and the rouge 8am lecture every now and then) and nights for going out or studying. 

“Oh, Y/N! Thank god you're here,” Your co-worker, Vanessa, exclaimed.

Vanessa was a few years older than you. She actually wasn’t a student, she’d given college a try and it wasn’t her thing. Apparently, all it did was “try to undermine unstoppable greatness.” She was chatty, but you actually liked that about her. She could keep up a conversation with a statue. When you first started off here she’d been the one to show you the ropes and ever since then, you’d had a specific bond with her that you couldn’t really put a name to.

You gave her a small smile, “Yeah well, I do prefer to show up when promised. Especially when my paycheck depends on it,” you let out a small laugh.

“Yes! See, that's what I love about you,” she made a disgusted face, “Unlike Peter. Honestly, I don't understand how he hasn’t been fired yet! He shows up at least half an hour late to every shift yet Miss Hannigan still keeps him around.”

“Oh,” you stuttered, raising your hands a little in defense, “I didn't mean it as a jab at Peter, I swear.”

She tossed a curled blonde lock of hair over her shoulders while waving her other hand in dismissal, “Honey, don’t worry about it. I know you would never, you’re far too sweet for that. But I wouldn’t blame you if you did, you know, having to work more than half your shift alone? I swear if Bernard did that to me,” she made a big show of gesturing to herself, "I would not deal with it.”

While what she was saying wasn’t necessarily wrong, it didn’t feel right talking about Peter like that. Sure, he was late most of the time, leaving you to do most of the work while you waited for him to show up (somehow when he started working you two got the same shift together and it’s just been that way ever since) and while you, also, normally wouldn’t put up with this, there was something different about Peter. You never felt like he was taking advantage of you, and purposefully made you pick up extra slack. It was quite the opposite actually, he always apologized profusely and never slacked when he was on the clock. He always seemed so rushed and out of breath, you were pretty sure the poor boy just needed to learn how to manage time better. Plus, he always took it upon himself to unpack the orders because of all the heavy lifting required (you couldn’t tell just by looking at him, with all the sweaters he wore, but man was he ripped.)

“He’s actually really sweet.” You’re not sure why exactly you’re so keen on defending Peter. You two barely spoke, outside of work of course, and you don’t know much about him. But something inside you didn’t like anyone assuming anything bad about him. 

“Yea, well, he’d be a ton sweeter if he clocked in on time,” she laughed as she untied her apron, getting ready to leave. You faked a laugh as well, not wanting the conversation to progress any further. 

“Alrighty, well,” she heaved a breath, “I'm off, have a good rest of your day Y/N.”

You smiled once again and sent a wave her way before settling down in front of the register. It was slow today, not many people in the shop. A fellow student you only recognized from work sat in a corner booth with their headphones locked in and was working on what seemed to be some kind of essay. 

There was an older woman, however, looking incredibly irritated at the table closest to you. You’d never seen her before but that wasn’t too strange. It was a near-campus cafe, after all, lots of people passing through. She looked to be typing on her phone until, suddenly, she shut it off and made direct eye contact with you. 

If looks could kill, you would’ve dropped dead behind the counter, which wouldn’t be all that ideal considering you couldn’t remember the last time anyone mopped that side of the store. 

She stood up and walked towards you and you already dreaded the conversation to come.

“I have an order,” she spit out, as if she were disgusted to even be talking to you at the moment. 

No greeting or anything, wow. Someone wasn’t raised right. 

Nonetheless, you put on your well-rehearsed customer service smile and gave in. “Sure, I’d be happy to help with that. Can you just give me the order?”

She rolled her eyes dramatically. “I shouldn’t have to, I called in and placed it and it should be ready by now. I'm going to be late!”

You froze for a moment, not quite sure what to do, “I’m so sorry for the inconvenience ma’am, but I just got here and I haven’t heard anything,” you glance at the little whiteboard kept on the counter for these exact situations only to find it empty, “and I don’t see anything here about a phone-placed order. Are you sure you have the right store?”

Her face was so red and steam was practically blowing out of her ears, “Of course, I have the right store! Do you think I'm stupid or something?”

“No! Of course not, I'm so sorry,” you start to blabber off, not wanting to make her any angrier than she already was, “I’ll get things ready for you right away ma’am.”

You turned around and tried to make yourself not freak out as badly as you wanted to. It was so humiliating getting yelled at like this in public! And yeah, maybe if you had such a problem with unpleasant interactions like this, you shouldn't have taken a social job such as this one, but honestly, you thought people would have enough manners not to act up like this. Apparently not. 

It slipped your mind for a moment because of how scrambled you got when the lady flipped her lid, but Vanessa has been known to do this, forget to write down orders and leave you to fend for yourself (quite literally since your coworker was never really around) and you’re pretty sure that’s what happened here. Other customers were usually more understanding than this woman bordering on Kathy-Bates-movie-character-insanity over a drink order. 

You reached into your back pocket, deciding you’d try to send her a hurried text about any phone calls she might remember. That just seemed to anger your customer more.

“Excuse me?! I'm sitting here waiting for my order and you're too busy chatting away on your phone?”

You lose yourself for a moment and you can’t feel your face anymore. 

“I am so sorry ma’am,” you repeat, which seems to be your mantra since you started working today, “I was just checking to see if-,”

“I don't care what you were checking, or what you need to see! Give me what I paid for,” her hand started smacking against the counter loud enough for the only other person in the store to look up, broken from their reverie. They merely shot you an apologetic look before getting back to their work, leaving you to fend for yourself.

“You have terrible customer service, honestly. I come here every Tuesday with my book club, but never again. If I don’t get exactly what I asked for in the next five minutes, I'm calling your boss and not leaving until I'm sure you’re fired.” 

You shake your head, “There’s no need to do that ma’am, I'll get everything ready for you.”

You turned around once again, this time, heading towards the cappuccino machine. You’re not sure why you said that considering you have no clue what ‘everything’ is that has to get ready. 

In all honesty, there’s a low chance that a suburban-white-soccer-mom type would have any real effect on your employment. Miss Hannigan would surely not fire you just because some order forgot to be written down and some customer got pissed. Right?

But you really didn’t want to find out. 

So, you started up the machine and turned to grab a cup. Today, apparently, was just doomed from the start. As you turned to grab one of the cups placed on the shelf over the machine, your hand hit the button that turned on the steam wand. Which was aimed directly at your other hand. 

You bit down the yelp that threatened to escape and jumped back, the back of your hand now searing with pain. Instinctively, your other hand came to cup your injured one, which only made it worse. You fought back tears as you moved to turn the steam back off. 

Inhaling deeply, you took a moment to try to get your mind working again. “Hello?!” Of course. You turned your head and gave her the fakest smile you’ve ever mustered in your whole life. “One minute ma’am.”

You could hear her going off about how she doesn’t have a minute to spare, but you ignored her, trying to think of what the hell you could give her to just get her out of your face. You’d have to guess her order since I wasn’t actually taken. You’d started playing a game with yourself since you worked here, guessing people's drink orders, and you’d say you’ve gotten pretty good. 

You peeked a look back at her. You’d had customers around her age come in before and order, for the most part, the same thing. A plain cappuccino. Seemed like a safe bet.

Swallowing down the pain as best you could, you approached the machine again. This time, taking out the portafilter. It must’ve not been put in correctly because it clattered to the ground, coffee grinds falling around the floor. 

You wanted to cry. Your hand hurt like hell, there was a new mess to deal with, and that lady hadn’t stopped complaining since you stepped in. 

Frozen, you began to panic a little, breaths coming out sporadically. You’d leave the sweeping for later, but you had to clean the filter so you could use it because it was the only one. And the slightest brush of air made your hand burn even more. You had no clue how to go about this. Maybe if you-

Like an angel, Peter rushed in through the side door. Tying his apron around his waist, he looked towards you. Your hand flew up to your mouth at his perfect timing and you saw his expression grow more concerned. 

He rushed towards you. “What happened?” And for a second, you forget everything that was stressing you out just a few moments before. He grabbed your hand so gently, you forgot every ounce of pain. 

“I cannot believe this!” She wasn’t giving up and you shut your eyes in frustration, turning to reply to her again. But before you can open your mouth, Peter steps in. “Hold on, can’t you clearly see she’s hurt?”

She scoffed and crossed her arms, “That’s her fault. If she knew how to do her job, it wouldn’t have happened.”

You could feel the anger rolling off him in waves. His expression hardened and his mouth opened to shoot something back at her, but this time, you cut him off. You placed your non-injured hand on his shoulder and gave him a look. 

He stared at you for a few seconds before finally giving in, blowing out some air in a frustrated huff. “Go wait for me inside,” he told you, nodding his head toward the employees-only backroom. 

“What?” You asked confused. You didn’t wanna leave him alone. 

“You’re not working right now, there’s no way I’m letting you. I’ll deal with her. Go, I’ll be right there,” he said, shoving you away gently.

Once you heard that he’d be following you, you were more willing. You walked through the door and took a seat at the table usually used for meal breaks. The ‘break room’ was a small room positioned in the back of the store. You can’t remember what this place used to be (a diner maybe?) but this specific room was used as an office, but Miss Hannigan claimed she had no use for an office so it was used for employee breaks. 

Every ounce of you was grateful for Peter’s Superman moment back there. He came in today earlier than usual and he’d totally saved your ass. You were going to make sure to tell him. 

You weren’t waiting long before the door opened again and Peter walked in, holding a backpack you hadn’t seen on him before. In his other hand, he held a drink. He placed the drink on the table before he grabbed one of the chairs, bringing it close to yours, and you turned your body to face him. 

He picked up your hand again, just as gently as before. “Alright,” he let out a breath of relief, “it’s not as bad as I thought, but, it’s still gonna take a while to heal. Wait,” he leaned over, unzipping his bag and taking supplies out while you just stared at him.

“I thought you majored in biochemistry.” You blurted out. Your face heated up a little when he looked at you curiously.

“I- I saw your textbooks once when you left your bag open. And I’ve seen you around campus, near the science-y buildings…and stuff.” You shrugged and he chuckled. 

“I do,” he nodded, “any medical stuff is self-taught. I get into a lot of…accidents.”

“Oh.��� You nodded at him. What kind of accidents would he get into? You’d never seen him hurt, but what did you know. 

“I take it you don’t major in anything science-y,” he said, grinning at you.

You shook your head, “No, I don’t. But I have a chemistry class I have to take for credit. Which makes no sense because chemistry has nothing to do with what I want to learn.”

He laughed and set his bag back down, everything he needed was now laid out on the table. “Okay,” he picked up a white tube with red lettering on it. “This is gonna help with pain and scarring. I’m going to spread some of this, then wrap it up for you.” You looked at the table and saw he’d also taken out some white gauze. What kind of ‘accidents’ did he get into?

You nodded, at a complete loss for words. You had no idea Peter knew so much about injuries and you were so thankful he was helping you out. You didn’t hate each other, but you weren’t close either.

He applied a small amount to the back of your hand, asking you constantly if you were okay as he rubbed it on softly. Honestly, even if it did hurt, you wouldn’t have the heart to tell him.

He finished up with the cream and moved onto the gauze, expertly wrapping it up to lightly cover your wound. When he was finished with that, he carefully tied it off, making sure not to tie it too tight.

“There,” he leaned back and smiled at you, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. “All fixed up.”

 “Thank you, Peter, really.” You reluctantly pulled your hand back into your lap, missing the warmth of his fingers wrapped around it.

“You don’t need to thank me Y/N, it’s the least I could do. I’m just glad I got here earlier than usual.”

You nodded and looked down. “Well thanks anyway, you saved my ass back there. Seriously, I have no idea what’s wrong with me today but I kept fucking everything up.”

“Hey,” he said softly, making you look up and meet his gaze. “You didn’t fuck anything up. Okay? You made a few mistakes, but that's not your fault. She shouldn’t have been treating you like that, especially when you’d hurt yourself.” He looked away and scoffed as he remembered the terrible customer that had ruined your morning. You would’ve felt extremely touched by his care if it weren’t for his next words.

“All that for a plain fucking cappuccino.” He mumbled.

“A plain cappuccino? Really?” You asked excitedly, forgetting about everything, and grinning at him wildly. 

“Um, yeah…why?” He asked you, confusion was written all over his face, but he couldn’t help his own smile slightly growing when he noticed your enthusiasm.

“Nothing,” you shook your head quickly, smile never fading, “I just…well, I play this game with myself where I guess people's drink orders. And I think I’m getting pretty good because that’s exactly what I was going to make her before you walked in.”

He laughed out loud and you joined in. “What’s my order?” He asked. 

You paused for a moment. “A caramel macchiato with extra caramel.”

He looked at you for a bit, “Close,” he admitted. “It used to be.”

“So are you gonna tell me what it is now?”

Shaking his head, he leaned over the table and dragged the drink he’d brought in earlier in front of you. “Here,” he changed the subject, “I made you this.”

You’d completely forgotten about it, and when you took a closer look, you realized it was your coffee order. 

Your mouth fell open, “How’d you know?”

He just shrugged, smiling slightly. He knew it was your favorite, but the confirmation was still nice. “I've seen you make it for yourself. Educated guess.”

“Oh my god,” you said, voice soft. It was a simple thing really, you had one most days at the end of your shift. But the fact that he’d noticed… It just meant a lot. “Thank you so much, Peter.”

He just waved you off, his smile growing when he noticed your reaction to the drink. He couldn’t believe he got a chance to speak to you. Truly speak to you. He was always too awkward or embarrassed or trying to avoid embarrassment. But now, while he didn’t like the circumstances that led you both here, he was actually talking to you. And it was nice.

“So,” he started, not wanting this to end just yet, “you said you’ve got a chemistry class?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, picking up your drink and taking a sip. “The one with Professor Hall. I actually have a class after this shift. I totally suck though, and he hates me. I just don’t get it, and he doesn’t explain it well!”

Peter nodded, completely understanding what you meant. It was a tough subject to begin with, and he knew not everyone was as into science as he was, add onto that a teacher who doesn’t really teach, it’s a recipe for disaster. 

“I actually had that class. Last year. I can help you, sometimes. If you’d like me to, that is!” He rushed out. Great, he thought, now I’m getting awkward. 

You looked up at him, eyes wide. “Really? Do you mean that?”

“Of course. I think I’ve still got my notes too, if you want ‘em.” He shrugged nonchalantly as if he wasn’t saving your ass again. 

“Oh my god Peter,” you placed your non-injured hand on his knee, not noticing the way his body stiffened and he gulped. “That would help so much. There’s a huge exam coming up, and it's a huge part of my grade so I have to pass. I started cramming earlier but—”

“I’ll help,” he reassured you, “I enjoy science anyway, so it’ll be fun for me.”

“Thank you,” you repeated. Staring at him so close, you realized you’d never noticed how handsome he was. Sure there were times you thought he was cute, from afar, but now…you could see the different shades of brown in his eyes, the way one of his eyebrows was slightly curlier than the other, unwilling to sit straight. You couldn’t help but stare-

“Oh my god,” you repeated, except this time, you had remembered something. “If we’re both in here, who’s outside?”

“What? Oh, um,” he scratched the back of his neck, still reeling from having you so close to him. “Freddy’s out there?”

“Freddy?” You asked confused. 

He nodded. “The guy writing on his laptop, he’s friends with my roommate, throws the craziest parties. He’s chill, I told him to keep an eye out if someone else walks in. But it’s been slow, so I think we’re good.”

“Oh, okay.” You said, standing up. “We should probably still go though.”

He stood up beside you, frowning. “I don’t think you should work with your hand hurt. I don’t want you accidentally making it worse.”

Your heart warmed at his concern. “That's really sweet Peter, but I’ll be fine. I don’t know what happened before, I never do stuff like that, even accidentally.”

He still didn’t look convinced. “Why don’t you just go home? I can take it for today.”

You shook your head quickly, “I’m not leaving. I have a class later and it would just be a waste of time going back and forth anyway.”

You walked towards the door, opened it, and exited before he had a chance to argue anymore. You stepped behind the counter while Peter rushed out behind you. You watched Freddy give him a thumbs up and Peter nodded at him before he followed right after you. 

“Are you sure you should go to class today? I can walk you home so you can take the day off,” he offered, and he looked so genuine you almost accepted. 

“Peter,” you laughed and he decided no matter what your response was, it wouldn’t matter because hearing you say his name like that was enough. “I’ll be fine, I didn’t break both my legs, it's just a small burn.”

He stared at you for a bit as you smiled at him, trying to get him to ease up. “Fine,” he gave in reluctantly. “But no going towards the cappuccino machine,” he waved a finger at you, “or the ovens. Or anything hot!”

“Fine,” you shot back, grinning wide and he couldn’t help but return it.

The rest of the morning had gone by easily and you thought maybe you didn’t have totally shit luck. Peter was way more fun than you ever thought he’d be and you wondered why you didn’t start talking to each other sooner. 

It used to be silently working together but after those few moments in the break room, you guys were laughing your whole shift. He meant what he said, and he kept you away from anything that produced heat (which you told him was an insane boundary to set in a cafe) so you had extra time to make quips here and there.

You started playing your order-guessing game with him, teaching him certain traits that gave someone away:

“Side part, beanie, and a crossbody? Oh, he’s getting a tall, dark, americano for sure.”

“She’s getting tea. No coffee, just tea. Maybe with a little lemon wedge.”

And he started to get the hang of it. 

“She looks like she drinks matchas right?” He said to you when a girl around your age walked in. He’d been right and you both laughed about it afterwards. 

When your work shift ended, you were actually upset. 

“I’ve got a class to get to,” you told him, lifting your bag onto your shoulder. You’d both cleaned up and gotten yourselves ready, now standing in front of the door. Something in you didn’t want to leave just yet, enjoying your time together far too much to end it so soon. 

“Yeah…” he trailed off, you waited for him to continue but he hesitated. 

“What is it?” You crossed your arms and smiled slightly, shifting your weight onto your other foot. He brought a hand up to scratch the back of his neck, “I just…well, I was just wondering—if it's okay with you of course!” He rushed out, quickly bringing his hands up. “That I could walk you to class?”

You laughed, “I’d love that Pete, thank you.” You turned to open the door to let you both out but he quickly moved forward, holding it open for you and motioning for you to move forward. 

Looking back at him, you smiled and noticed his cheeks were a little red. How had you never noticed how adorable he was?

The walk back to campus wasn’t long but you learned a lot. He told you where he went to high school, his friends he still kept in touch with, his Aunt May, some funny moments from parties he’d been forced to attend by his roommate, and you laughed together.

You told him about the book you were currently reading, your life back home and your family, and why you chose to go to this college. He went along with your jokes, which made it all the more better for you. “I mean if you think about it,” you'd said, “it is so much easier to romanticize your life  when your school campus is as pretty as this one, and that’s real motivation!”

The conversation flowed naturally between you two and it felt like you’d been friends for ages. He dropped you off outside of your class building with the promise of picking you up afterward so you two could study together. 

“So I’ll be back here in an hour right,” he asked. 

“Right,” you smiled at him. “And thanks again Pete, for everything.” You held up your bandaged hand, shaking it a little before setting it back down. 

He shook his head quickly, “Don’t thank me for that. Really.”

You stared at him with a warm expression. “Bye Peter,” you waved as you turned to walk into your class.

“Bye Y/N,” he returned. He watched you walk through the doors, shooting him one last smile before you disappeared from view, before blowing out a breath of air. 

He’d finally gotten a chance to talk to the girl he’d been crushing on for months, and he got to walk her to class! And they were meeting up afterward. After working so close to you and never having the guts to initiate a conversation, he’d settled for just admiring you from afar. But after today, there was nothing that could keep him away. 

You were not having a good day. 

You’d just found out that your chemistry exam was being bumped up to two days from now. Even with the early studying you’d done before, there was no way you could catch up with everything that fast. You were so overwhelmed you had completely forgotten Peter was waiting for you outside. 

You walked out, your bottom lip stuck between your teeth, and you practically jumped out of your skin when someone placed a hand on your shoulder. 

“Hey, don’t worry,” he said, his voice soft yet full of concern. Peter. “It's just me. What happened?”

The second he saw you walk out, he could tell something was off. He could literally sense the anxiety rolling off of you in waves. He had waited for you to look up and stop when you saw him, but you were just about to walk past him before he stopped you. Now, you were looking at him with distress coating every feature on your face. Your brows were pinched, your lip red from biting it, and your eyes wide and distant like you couldn’t even see him and he was standing right in front of you. Something had gone wrong and he wanted nothing more than to fix it. 

“What is it? What’s wrong? He asked frantically. 

“Oh my god,” you whispered, hands flying up to the sides of your head and gripping your hair. You weren’t looking at him anymore, “Oh my god.”

“Ok Y/N,” he said nervously, “you’re starting to scare me.”

“Two days Peter!” You looked at him wildly. “Two days! I can’t go over everything in two days, is he fucking insane? I didn’t even know he could do something like that, I mean, can he do something like that? I feel like that shouldn’t be allowed it should—”

You cut yourself off and started pacing back and forth in front of him. “Oh my god, I’m gonna bomb this. And if I fail, it’ll bring my whole grade down! I can’t afford that I—”

“Hey,” he repeated, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder again. “I said I’m gonna help you, and I meant it. So we’re gonna get through this together, even if we have to stay up all night.”

You stared at him, trying to wonder what you’d done in your life to deserve such an angel. 

You shook your head quickly, “I really appreciate that Peter, but I’m serious. There’s no way I can learn everything I need to know that fast.”

You tried to smile at him but it didn’t reach your eyes. 

He grinned, his expression the total opposite of yours. “Well, you’ve clearly never studied with me, so don’t sound too sure yet.”

Another thing you’d come to realize was just how smart Peter was. 

You really should’ve known when he told you he’d taken that advanced chemistry class a year ago. And passed. 

Looking through his notes, you could see his attention to detail. He really wasn’t a slacker in the classroom because everything was clearly laid out here. 

You’d spent that night going over everything and you’d actually started to feel hopeful about it. Peter was a way better teacher than Professor Hall, and it didn’t hurt that he was so cute. He was understanding with everything and was willing to go over any part for as long as it took for you to fully grasp it. 

At the end of the night, he’d undone the wrappings around your hand, reapplied the cream for you, and wrapped it up again.

“It’s doing okay,” he reassured you. “Like I said, it’s gonna take a while, but if it starts hurting or anything, take some medicine. Then find me.”

You were sure you’d just melted into his hands at that moment.

The next day, you couldn’t wait to get through everything and see him again, even if you were going to be talking about chemistry. 

You weren’t scheduled to work at the cafe today, so you’d only get to meet up after both of your classes. 

Lectures were a blur, nothing really catching your attention and you spent most of the time with your phone tucked in your hand texting back and forth with Peter, barely concealing your laughter when he sent you memes. 

It was like that all day, until, finally, you made your way over to his small apartment he shared with one of his friends. 

its very quaint 🤌

(totally NOT what we say to make ourselves feel better about this shoebox)

He’d told you over text, making you laugh out loud as you made your way over there. 

dw🫡 I was one of those kids who used to live in their play tents and hid in random corners and spaces

im totally ready for this

ok but be warned, we do not have a pet!!! they are not allowed per our lease!!! ignore the cat when you come in!!! tell no one!!!

what cat ??

good girl ;)

Your face flushed as you made your way up the steps to his door. You knocked three times and barely had to wait a second before Peter stood before you, holding the door open. 

“Hi,” he said, smiling at you. 

“Hi,” you grinned back. You heard a small ‘meow’ come from behind him and he quickly held up a finger to his lips. You covered your mouth, stifling a laugh as you nodded at him. 

“Come on in,” he said, stepping out of the way to lead you through the door. You stepped in and kicked off your shoes before looking around. It was plain, but that was to be expected really. 

There was a large poster hanging next to their TV, however, that caught your eye. “Big fan?” You asked him, shoving your thumb in the direction of the Star Wars poster. 

He shrugged nonchalantly, “Kind of.”

“Oh. Well, I was just asking because I love those movies. My little brother used to watch them and I got really into it.”

“Oh. I mean—I don’t know what I was saying before I love them too.” He rushed out, making you giggle.

He stayed staring at you for a bit, his eyes rounding out and his mouth gaping a little bit. 

You gave him a small smile, “Okay, well we should-” You let out a small yelp, hands flying to your mouth as you jumped back. 

The living room was small. The only things occupying it were the TV mounted to the wall, and in front of it, was a sofa. And on the sofa, was an unconscious body that you hadn’t noticed until it let out a low groan. You really weren’t sure how you missed it, there wasn’t much else to look at, but they had just been so still. 

Heart beating erratically, you turned towards Peter again, who was looking at you with all the amusement in the world written all over his face. “Was he always there,” you whispered, eyes wide.

He opened his arms, “Well, angel, I really don’t know. Did you see anyone come in?”

“Oh shut up,” you grumbled. “He looks familiar…is that..”

“Freddy.” He finished for you. Right. The dude from the cafe. 

“He crashes here sometimes.” He added.

You nodded. “Alright.”

“Shall we?” He opened a door beside him and looked at you. 

“Right. Yeah, of course.” You walked past him and into his room. You stopped after you entered, taking a moment to look around. His room was simple, with just his bed, a desk and chair, and a dresser perched next to another door you assumed was his closet. 

What really caught your attention, however, were the photos scattered all over the walls. The room was practically engulfed in Peter Parker’s memories, and you really liked it. Without thinking, you approached one wall, walking through them and taking each one in. 

There were some with large groups of people, those looked like school trips. Most of the photos were of the same two people, and based on what he’d told you, you assumed those were his friends. Ned and MJ. 

A lot of the photos contained an older woman, who looked stunning. That had to be his Aunt May. You were shocked by how many photos he had with the Tony Stark. He’d told you he had an internship at Stark Industries, but really, you sorta thought he just went on coffee runs all day. 

And then, you saw a couple shots of Spider-Man. It wasn’t unusual, you knew a lot of people snapped photos of the masked hero when they spotted him around the city. What was unusual, was the quality of the photos. You didn’t know if you’d ever seen such clear photos of him, even on the news, as he was always swinging and in motion. In these, Peter seemed to have caught him at just the right time. You wondered how long it took him to capture the photos.

“Big fan?” You smirked over at him from your spot by one of the Spider-Man photos as you repeated your words from earlier. 

Peter leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, content with watching go over the details of his life. He felt a little naked, like he was bared out in front of you. But…it felt good too. He liked knowing you were learning new things about him, and curious to know more. It filled him with an anxious sort of giddiness.

“You first,” he said slyly.

Laughing, you said, “Well, I don’t see how anyone can hate on the guy. He literally runs around saving lives”

He laughed as he approached you, standing by your side. You’d be surprised. “True I guess.”

“We should get to studying,” you said, breezing past him, your hand brushing his bicep as you did. He sucked in a breath, his entire body feeling electrocuted after that one touch. He wondered how you seemed so normal, laying out your books and papers on the floor beside his bed. 

This was gonna be a long night. 

He cleared his throat and moved to sit across from you, hoping he didn’t look as flushed as he felt. 

After a few moments of him watching you get settled, you heard him start laughing. Looking up you asked, “What’s so funny?”

That only made him laugh harder. “Just thinking about how scared you got before. Did you really not see him?”

You felt your face go hot. “I didn’t! I had no clue he was there, and next thing I know he’s making lawn mower nosies!”

Peter was red in the face now. “The way you flew back,” he said between fits of laughter, “I thought you’d give yourself whiplash.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled at him, picking up one of your pens and throwing it at him. It bounced off without him even flinching. 

You looked down, avoiding his gaze by busying yourself with your papers. 

“Okay I’m ready to be serious now,” he said. The laughter was gone but amusement twinkled in his voice. 

“Great! Welcome back Pete, now hand me that pen, I’m gonna need it.”

Two hours later, you were both sprawled across the floor tossing Chess-Its at one another. 

“Come on!” You threw your arms up in defeat when you threw another cracker at him just for him to catch it again. 

Peter chuckled, “Sorry angel, I’ve just got killer reflexes.”

“Alright whatever,” You rolled your eyes. “Come on, throw some at me.”

You opened your mouth, ready to finally win one round of this nonsense…just for a Cheez-It to hit your cheek and fall to the ground with the rest of your tries. 

Peter laughed while you sat up, reached to grab the box of crackers, and poured some into your hand before putting it back down. 

“Okay, I’m done. I actually want to eat them now.” You said, munching on a cracker and sitting against the side of his bed. 

“Oh come on, don’t be a quitter Y/N/N,” he grinned, leaning over and pinching your cheek. 

You swatted his hand away with your empty one. “M’not.”

He smiled at you before sitting up. “Hit me,” he said, opening his mouth and pointing at it. 

You grabbed a Cheez-It from the palm of your hand and made a big show of trying to get your aim right. Squinting one eye, you stared at him, moving your hand back and forth before tossing it slightly more to the right. On purpose. 

That didn’t stop him from leaning over and catching it in his mouth. 

“I don’t like this game,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him. 

“Don’t act like I don’t know what you did,” he said back, munching on his Cheez-it. 

“Sue me,” you told him, brushing him off with a wave of your hand. 

He laughed before he settled down. “How’s your hand feeling by the way.” His voice was considerably softer now, making you smile softly at him. 

“It’s doing great, thank you again, Peter. I would’ve been totally fucked if it weren’t for you,” you told him honestly. 

He shook his head, “Don’t thank me at all Y/N. Hate seeing you hurt,” he mumbled, less to you and more to himself and he stayed staring at your wrapped-up hand. 

“Well don’t worry about that, it doesn’t hurt at all.”

“Yeah?” He looked at you suddenly, like he needed to know you meant it. 

“Yeah,” you nodded at him. 

“That’s good,” he breathed out and your heart squeezed at how much he seemed to care. 

“What's your plan? Y’know, for after school?” You didn’t want to leave just yet, even with your studying done. And you wanted to know more about him. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t taken a certain liking to him lately. 

“Well after I get my degree, I’m going move up a little further in Stark Industries. I’m still undecided on grad school, I think I’ve got everything I need and I’m probably just gonna start saving up to pay off student loans instead of adding on them.”

You nodded at him, “So the Stark internship is going well? No offense, I sort of thought you were their coffee mule.” You grinned at him before popping a Cheez-It in your mouth. 

He scoffed, “No, I’m not. I mean, it did take a while to get them to take me seriously, but I got there!”

You laughed, “Well, very proud of you Pete. That’s super impressive.”

He grinned at you, his face heating up at your words. He wondered if you knew how much it affected him every time you called him Pete. Probably not, but he never wanted you to stop. 

You two stayed like that for another hour or so, time passing by without you noticing at all. You talked about your futures, where you say yourselves after school, and after that. Your admiration for him only grew as you got to know him more. You could talk to him all night and never get bored honestly, you-

Shit. 

A random notification lit up your phone, which lay beside you on the floor, making you take notice of the time. 

You sat up quickly, spitting out curses as you started gathering your belongings and shoving them into your bag. 

Peter sat up as well, helping you get your things together but in a calmer manner than yourself. 

“Relax Y/N,” he said in a soothing voice. 

“Pete I can’t do it.” You turned to him suddenly, dropping everything in your hands. 

“Do what, angel?”

“The exam is tomorrow. I’m not ready! I’m gonna fail, and that one grade, that one stupid grade, is gonna hold me back and ruin everything-”

“Sweetheart look at me,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder. His grip was warm and reassuring. “You are not going to fail. And I know this because I’ve spent the last few hours studying with you, and I saw how smart you are, and how quick you caught on. You’re gonna walk in there tomorrow and ace that test, I know you are!

“And if for some reason you don’t,” he continued, “you gave it your best. You tried your hardest and you learned something, which is all that matters in the end. So breathe, stop stressing, and let me walk you home.”

“All that talk as an excuse to ask to take me home?” You snorted, “Peter you shouldn’t have.” Despite your jokes, you took his advice and took a deep breath. He was right, you’d studied your hardest, both with and without his help. All you could do was take the exam and hope for the best now.

He laughed and stood up, holding out a hand once he saw you all packed and ready. “Caught me. So is that a yes?”

You took his hand and pulled yourself up but didn’t let go right away. “If I fail, do we have to stop hanging out? Y’know, with you being a science prodigy and all.”

He laughed again and placed both his hands on your shoulder, staring straight into your eyes. “Never.”

“Ok, well, just making sure. I wouldn’t wanna give you a bad rep in the science community or something-”

You were suddenly cut off from your babbling when he pressed his lips to yours. You froze for a second, unsure what to do, but it didn’t take long for you to catch up and kiss him back. 

He pulled away after a few moments, “Done with the jokes?” His voice was soft and teasing.

“Uh huh,” you mumbled, eyes still closed. “But I think you might need to do that again, just to be sure.”

He chuckled murmuring something that sounded like ‘too cute’ but you couldn’t be bothered to hear when you felt his lips on yours again, this time, expecting them. 

You threw your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and canting your head slightly for better access. He groaned, one arm wrapping around your middle, the other settling on your waist.

You might have pictured kissing him before, just maybe. But none of your daydreaming could’ve prepared you for the real thing. The way his bottom lip covered your top one, the soft breaths exchanged between the two of you, the way he pressed himself further into you when you tugged his hair a little harder. This definitely beat all of your daydreams. 

You could’ve stayed that way forever, and you probably would’ve if Peter hadn’t taken one for the team and pulled away first. 

Or tried to, at least. 

“We should-” kiss. 

“You-” kiss. 

“I need to walk,” kiss, “-you home angel.” He murmured against your lips.

“Okay,” you whispered back but you didn’t move to pull away, and he didn’t push you. The two of you stayed stuck, foreheads pressed together, eyes closed, taking in the atmosphere of each other. 

“I should probably go now,” you said softly. Peter hummed in agreement, leaning in to peck your lips gently. 

“It’s getting late,” but your voice is more of a sigh. You don’t know what he’s laced his lips with but each kiss makes you weak in the knees and woozier than the last one.

“God, d’yknow I’ve had the biggest crush on you.” He said, completely disregarding your previous statement. 

That stops you. “What?” You asked him in disbelief. Peter had a crush on you? No way, you would’ve known. 

“Yeah,” he chuckled lightly, “don’t act so shocked. I was always a stuttering mess at work whenever you so much as looked at me.”

True. But you’d just thought he was a bit more on the shy side. 

“I’d seen you around campus before and I thought you were the prettiest girl I’d ever seen, and I still do, but I thought I had no shot in hell with you. And when I got the job at the cafe and saw I’d be working with you? I almost lost my fucking mind sweetheart.” You both laughed a little and you couldn’t help the way your cheeks flamed up because of his words. Did he have any clue what he was doing to you right now?

“So I just sorta kept my distance, y’know? Admired you from afar ‘cause I was too scared you’d reject me. Sadly, it only took you nearly burning your hand off,” he gave you a look and you burst into giggles, him doing you and slightly pinching your waist, “for me to get over myself and actually keep up a conversation with you. But now I’ve got you in my room, kissing me.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, “lucky you.” You joked as leaned in to press another kiss to his lips. 

“Lucky me indeed,” he murmured before pulling you in even deeper. He dipped you, making you squeal into the kiss. Then he pulled you up, unable to keep the kiss going any longer with how hard he was grinning.

“Oh my god,” you said, laughing breathlessly. 

“A lot more where that came from,” he smirked at you. 

“You know,” you moved to pick up your bag, “for someone who was so scared to talk to me for so long, you sure found the confidence now.”

“What can I say? You make it easy. Once I started I couldn’t stop.” You smiled at him as he gently placed a hand on your arm leading you to the door. The living room was empty now, no one to be found on the couch or otherwise and you wondered where their cat had wandered off to.

You bent over to put on your shoes, Peter doing the same. He stepped forward and opened the door for you, letting you step out before following you and locking the door. 

As soon as he was done with that, you reached over and grabbed his hand. “Hey Petey?” You said lightly. Oh, he was going to melt. From now on, he only wanted you to call him that.

“Hm?”

“I’m glad you finally decided to talk to me.” 

He leaned down and kissed the top of your head. “Yeah? Me too angel.”

The next morning, you awoke in the brightest mood, considering you had a chemistry exam later that day. All you could think about was Peter. You were going to see him later at the cafe and you couldn’t wait. 

You leaned over in bed to pick up your phone. Speak of the devil. 

GOOD MORNINGGGGG❤️

hope you slept well angel, can’t wait to see you today. and you’re gonna totally ace that exam!🥰

seriously you’re going to kick chemistry’s butt

A huge smile bloomed on your face, almost hurting from how wide it was. Usually, you'd stay in bed for a while, scrolling through Instagram or just going through messages or something. Not today, you couldn’t wait to get to work. Maybe Peter was a good influence on you. 

After getting ready for the day, you made your way to the cafe with a little bounce in your steps. The bell jingled above you as you opened the door and for the first time since you’d started working together, Peter was here before you. 

“Hey,” he smiled, holding up your usual drink order and waving it at you. 

“Hi Pete,” you approached his, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. As you pulled away, you could see how quickly his cheeks pinked, making you grin. 

“No ‘Petey’?”

“Didn’t know you had a preference,” you said, grabbing his hand and pulling it towards you as you took a sip from the drink and then moved to get dressed for your shift. 

“Yeah,” he scratched the back of his neck, wishing he could feel your hand on his for just a little longer, “neither did I.”

You laughed lightly as you tied your apron, the sound hitting him like the greatest melody in the world. 

“Okay then,” you walked towards him, stopping right in front of him, “let’s start over. Hi Petey.”

“Hi angel,” he gave you a dopey grin and you returned it. 

“Great, now that we’ve got that figured out.” You patted his chest lightly before taking the drink from his hands and moving away. 

“Hey wait! Where’s my kiss?” He pouted at you and he looked so adorable, you just wanted to pinch his cheeks and kiss him till he begged you to stop.

“We’re at work, we’ve gotta be professional.” You said matter-of-factly. 

He rolled his eyes, leaned against the counter, and crossed his arms. “Professional my ass, no one is even in here-,”

Before he could even close his mouth, the bell jingled, and in stepped a boy about your age. The boy moved to one of the chairs, not moving to order just yet, giving you the chance to smirk at Peter, who just rolled his eyes again. 

“What do you he’s gonna order,” he asked you.

“Hmm…a cookie, probably.” You moved lean against the counter across from him and took a sip of your drink as you smiled. 

“Hey wait, you never told me what your drink order is.”

“Hmm…” he hummed in consideration before he moved towards you, grabbing your hand with the drink and bringing it up to his lips to steal a sip, maintaining eye contact the whole time. 

“I’ve got to say,” he said in a low voice, “this one has really grown on me.”

You couldn’t look away, all you could do was stare. And stare, and stare, and stare…

A stranger’s voice, and then, “Hey, can I get one of those double chocolate chip cookies?”

You were just on cloud nine today. 

You had taken your exam and for the first time ever in that class, you had felt confident in your work. 

And to top it all off, after you’d handed in your paper and packed your things to leave, Professor Hall had given you a ‘well done’ nod. You! He’d never noticed you positively before. You were going to need to drown Peter in thank-you kisses for his help. 

Speaking of Peter, you couldn’t wait to see him. He told you he’d be waiting for you after your class but when you stepped outside, there was no sign of him. You decided to sit on the building steps and wait. He was probably just running a little late, no biggie. 

Big biggie. After 40 minutes of waiting for him, during which you’d sent him a little text and he hadn’t responded, you decided to head over to his place. 

The walk was short and your little buzz had worn off after not getting to share it with Peter. After all, you kind of owed him most of the credit. You arrived at his apartment door, and when you knocked, it wasn't Peter who answered. 

It's Freddy. 

You throw on a smile. “Hi Freddy, is Peter home?”

He returned your smile as he said, “‘Sup Y/N.” He held out his fist and you stared at it for a while before you got the hint and bumped it with your own. “Pete’s not home right now, but you can totally come in and wait for him.”

You found it funny that someone who didn’t live there was inviting you in to stay, but you accepted anyway. You also had no clue how he knew your name. 

You knew little about Freddy, but you knew he was sort of a campus celebrity. Every raging party there was, everyone knew Freddy was behind it. 

“So,” you said as you walked in, “what year are you in Freddy?”

“Ah nah, I’m done with that shit. I took the bar,” he said casually, waving a hand and moving to sit on the couch. He kicked his feet up on the large Amazon box being used as a coffee table and picked up the open beer sitting atop it. 

You stood in your place, clutching your bag. He was in grad school?

“Oh that’s awesome dude, did you not pass or something.”

“Uh uh,” he shook his head, taking a swig of beer, “got a 350.”

Your eyes widened. What. You didn’t know much about law school but you knew getting a score like that on the bar was not an easy thing. 

“Wait when’d you take it?” You asked confused. The bar exam wasn’t scheduled for a few months from now. 

“Last year.”

“Do you like…work at a firm or something?” It was insane to you that the party animal of this school had already graduated, and with an amazing score nonetheless. 

He shook his head, “Workin' on my music right now, and if that doesn’t work out,” he gave you a wicked grin, “well I’ve always got my law degree.”

You nodded, stunned. “That’s sick dude. Good luck,” you told him, waving as you moved to wait in Peter’s room. 

“Keep the door cracked kids,” he shouted towards you and you huffed a laugh as you entered the room and closed the door (leaving it open just an inch) before you sat at the foot of his bed. 

You looked around for a second, taking it all in. It’s amazing how he managed to take this small space and make it so him. 

After a few moments, you took out your phone to shoot him another text. 

But before you could finish typing it out, the window beside you started opening and you watched as the Spider-Man fell onto the bed, not noticing you gaping right next to him. 

You stayed silent, unsure of what to do or say until he moved to take his mask off. That got you moving and talking. 

“Holy fuck!” You basically shout, moving away, hands flying to your mouth. 

He seemed to be just as shocked as you were because he scrambled up from his lying position. And staring back at you was Peter Parker. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked you, eyes wide. It wasn’t till then that you noticed the paleness of his features, his face lacking that usually healthy glow it held, the waver in his voice, and the hand clutching his bloody side. 

“Holy fuck,” you repeated, voice lower, and for a whole different reason this time. “Shit Peter, you’re hurt.” You moved closer to him, temporarily forgetting everything else as your hand reached to gently remove his so you could take in the extent of his injuries. 

“It’s nothing,” he said but made no move to shove you away or stop you. You moved his hand and winced at the sight that greeted you, “Looks like a whole lot more than nothing babe.”

“I’ve had worse.”

You look up at him, frowning slightly, “Not exactly reassuring Petey.”

“I feel all better now,” he said, shooting you a charming grin as soon as he heard the nickname leave your mouth. “Add a kiss in the mix, and I’ll be good as new.”

You huffed a laugh, shoving his knee slightly, “Shut up Peter. I’m serious. I’m sure you’ve got some experience with stuff like this,” you wave a hand towards his suit and injury for emphasis and he gives you a quick nod. 

“Over there,” he pointed toward his dresser, “top shelf, under the blue sweater.”

You rushed over there, opening the drawer and spotting the sweater he mentioned. “I’m totally stealing that from you someday, this is your heads up,” you told him as you grabbed the large box and completely closed the door before you moved back to his side. 

“You can have anything of mine, Angel. I’m sure you’d look better in it anyway.” His words made you blush, but you tried to ignore them so you could focus on the task at hand. 

Peter, however, found that he really liked watching your cheeks pink up. And he wanted more. 

“Lean against the headboard, now.” You said, trying to be serious again. 

“God, at least buy me dinner first sweetheart.” He gave you the dorkiest smirk you’d ever seen. You just glared at him. “On the other hand,” he said as he moved backward to lean against his headboard, “I don’t need dinner, I’m all yours baby girl.”

This got you to laugh, “Peter, be serious! You’re bleeding out!” You moved to his side, “take this off by the way.” You gestured to his suit. 

He hit the middle emblem of a spider and you watched as it loosened up and fell off his shoulders. You had started pulling it the rest of the way down, gulping when you realized he wasn’t wearing anything else, when he mumbled, “Not a terrible way to go.”

You refused to look up and meet his eyes but he knew he got you. Thank god he was wearing underwear, you realized, and you threw the suit to the side after you’d completely shredded him of it. He was definitely going to need a new one. 

Now completely facing the damage, your stomach churned, and you were hit with the hard truth. “I…I don’t know what to do,” you whispered to him. You wanted to help him, more than anything. This man who’s been risking his life, probably since he was a teenager you realized, as you did the math silently in your head, was hurt and right in front of you, needing your help. And you needed to help him, but you didn’t know the first thing about how to approach a situation like this. You were surprised you could stare at the wound for so long. 

“Don’t worry, I can do it,” he said gently, his bloody hand reaching for the huge first aid kit. 

“No!” You rushed out, grabbing his hand to stop him, “No way am I letting you do that! Just…just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.

Feeling more confident, you grabbed the kit and opened it. Shock coursed you as you realized just how much he went through and your confidence fell right back down where it sprouted from. The bag was full of all the medical tools and supplies you could think of, most of them completely foreign to you, and you realized how privileged you must be to not recognize any of these things. You can’t imagine the ‘worse’ he talked about having earlier. This must be those accidents he was talking about.

“I don’t usually have to use them,” his voice was soft, almost like he was reassuring you, “usually just water and a towel does the trick. Maybe a little numbing cream. And these,” he looked down at his wounds, “some bandages, sure, but I won’t need stitches or anything.”

You let out a breath of relief, you weren’t sure you could’ve handled that. You didn’t trust yourself.

“Okay,” you said, grabbing some wipes. You were going to do this. Based on what he’d told you, he was always stitching himself back up, just to hit the streets again the next day. This time, though, was different. This time you were here to help him, and you weren’t going chicken out of this. Even a little help was better than nothing at all. 

You started slowly, cleaning around his wounds so you could bandage them properly. “You sure you’re okay with this?” He asked you gently. “I totally understand if you need me to do it, angel, it’s a lot if you’re not used to it.”

“No,” you shook your head, your voice steady, “No way. It’s my turn to fix you up.” You told him, looking up to meet his eyes and smiling at him. 

He returned it and you went back to work. 

“So….Spider-Man, huh?” You peeked up quickly in question. 

“Yeah,” he took a deep breath, “it’s a long story. Basically, I was bit by some spider, that shit was powerful,” you laughed a little, making him smile. “And I got some. Of its powers I mean.”

“So you get bit by a spider, that spider gives you powers, and you decide to become a New York vigilante?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” he nodded, and you laughed again. 

“You’re a hell of a guy Peter Parker.” You said, shaking your head slightly. 

“Thank you, I try,” he smirked at you and you laughed again. 

“Okay,” you said, pulling away from his side. He almost whined in protest. Honestly, he wasn’t feeling any pain, not since you’d started worrying about him, and insisting you help him. Peter wasn’t used to that, he was always alone when it came to this part of the job. He’d never minded that before, just one of the things he had to deal with as a superhero, but now that someone else was taking care of him…it felt nice. Really nice. Especially when it was you. 

“Peter?” You looked at him questioningly. Shit. You’d asked him something.  

“Huh? I'm sorry, I didn’t hear you.” He said with wide eyes. He’d gotten too wrapped up in the feeling of being taken care of, not that anyone could blame him though, the girl he’d been crushing on forever was here, in his room, helping bandage him up! It's more than he could’ve dreamed of. 

“It’s okay sweetie,” you said, waving him off assuming he was in pain or something. Really, now he had something new to obsess over. Sweetie? While he was practically naked (albeit injured, but he wasn’t thinking of that right now) in bed with you? God, he could just melt.

“I was just wondering which bandages,” you said, holding up the different ones you’d found in his bag. 

“Oh,” he said lamely, “these ones.” He grabbed a few from you and opened them. 

“Look,” he said, leaning over himself to see his wounds properly, “you’ve got to bring together both sides of the wound, then secure the bandage so that it’s holding it closed.” He talked as he placed the first bandage with you watching and listening with intent. 

“Okay, I think I’ve got it,” you said as you took the rest of the bandages from him. You steadied yourself, straddling his thigh as you started placing the bandages down his wound. The biggest gash took about five, your elbow resting on his abdomen as you got lower…and lower. 

Conveniently, you missed the quiver in his breath, too focused on the work at hand, but you didn’t miss the small gasp he let out when your forearm reached right between his thighs. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” You said as you pulled away quickly, thinking you’d hurt him. “Did I pinch too hard?”

“No, no angel, you’re fine. Doing a great job actually.” He replied, trying to collect himself. He could not let himself think of that right now. There were more important things at hand. 

“You sure?” You asked him, not looking convinced.

“Positive.” He replied, grabbing your arm and pulling you back in (but making sure to keep you at a healthy distance from his dick). 

You added a few more bandages, most of the cuts only needing one or two, before pulling away again to rummage through his bag. “What do you use on your bruises?”

“This one,” he said, leaning over you and grabbing a tube from the kit. You turned, your lips almost brushing over each other with how close you were. 

“Hi,” you whispered, all thoughts completely flying out of your head as you realized just how badly you wanted to kiss him. 

“Hi angel,” he said smiling softly at you. 

Seeing you debate it in your head, Peter decided it would be easier for the both of you if he did it first. Leaning in, he closed the distance and smoothly took your lips in his. You melted into the kiss right away, feeling like you’d been craving this your whole life when really, you’d just kissed his a few hours ago before you’d left work. 

Your hands were on his bare chest, you could feel every muscle, every move when-

“Wait, you’re hurt!” You pulled away, leaving a pouting Peter in your wake. 

“My lips work just fine angel,” he said, trying to steal another kiss while you tried to avoid him. 

“But..let me finish at least,” you mumbled against his lips, barely getting a chance to pull away after he’d caught you. 

“You can finish, just lemme do this first,” he responded before kissing you again.

“Hey,” you mumbled against his lips. 

He hummed in response, moving to kiss your cheek, your jawline. If he kept this up you might not try to stop him. 

“Did you know Freddy took the bar exam? And passed?”

That got him to pull away. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking at you confusedly, “I’m kissing you and you decide this a good time to bring up Freddy?”

“Well, y’know,” you shrugged, “figured it was as good a time as any.”

He scoffed, “Unbelievable.”

You giggled, “I win.” You pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, pulling away before he could catch you and turn it into more.

“Now lay down, lemme do this,” you said waving the cream at him. 

He moved grumpily and you thought grumpy Peter was the cutest thing ever. The furrow of his brows, the slight pout of his lips. You could just kiss him. And you would’ve if you hadn’t known where it would lead you. 

You unscrewed the cap to the cream and started applying it gently. “So Fred’s a lawyer huh?” Peter spoke up. 

“He is!” You whispered excitedly, glad he was just as shocked as you were. 

“And you learned this how?” He asked, giving you a look. 

You shrugged. “He let me in and I talked to him, asked him a few questions to get to know him better since I see him everywhere.” 

“Wait, he’s here right now?”

“Yeah,” you said slowly, “I thought you knew?”

“No I didn’t-,” he let out a sigh, “whatever it's basically his apartment too at this point I guess.”

You laughed, “And you’re okay with that?”

He shrugged with his good side. “He buys the good beer.”

You laughed again. “He scored a 350 on the bar exam!”

Peter’s brows shot up. “Oh shit.”

“I know! The only thing I knew about him was that he blacked out in that frat house’s pool all night and the cops were called cause someone thought he was dead.”

“Yeah, he’s super lucky he was on his back. Just floated around the pool like a leaf.”

You shook your head, screwing the cap back on the tube of cream, “Crazy. But anyway, I’m done. And on the plus side,” you grinned at him, “if you ever get in legal trouble, you know someone!”

He laughed out loud, and you watched as his face scrunched up and he clutched his side in pain. Apologizing for the joke, you gave him a kiss on the cheek to make up for it. 

“Enough about crazy Freddy,” he let out a sigh, “I’m gonna go put some clothes on, and then I wanna cuddle with my girl.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words and all you could do was smile as he stood up, giving you a kiss on the side of your head before he moved to pick out some clothes.

You watched him get dressed, biting your lip as you watched how his muscles rippled with each of his movements. You always knew he was strong but seeing him like that, was a completely different story. 

“Like what you see?” He asked, smirking at you before he lifted his shirt, holding it up between his teeth as he tied his sweatpants. 

Your mouth fell open. At being caught and also at…how absolutely hot he looked right now. If he wasn’t injured, you would be all. over. him. 

“S’alright angel,” he said as he stalked towards you. He was enjoying this, a lot. “I’m sure I’d be the same if the roles were reversed.”

That did not help. Now you were thinking about being naked in front of Peter and-

He laughed, kissed the side of your head again, and laid down, pulling next to him. 

“Careful Peter, you’re still hurt!” You chastised him. 

He shook his head, “You made me feel a hundred times better. Thank you, angel.”

“Of course Petey.” He smiled at you as he wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tight. 

“So, you came to see me right? Y’know, before the whole finding out I’m Spider-Man thing. What’s up?”

“Oh I almost forgot,” you perked up, tilting your head up so you could see his face, “I think I totally aced that chemistry exam!”

“Angel! I’m so proud of you!” He started attacking you with kisses, kissing you anywhere his lips could reach. 

You giggled, “Thank you sweetie, but seriously I owe you most of the credit, I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Nonsense,” he shook his head, “that was all you. I barely helped, you learned everything and then took that quiz, and aced it.”

“Well I haven’t gotten my grade back yet, I just have a really good feeling, so don’t sound too are there's a chance I didn’t do as well as I thought.”

“Nope,” he said, popping the p. “I have a sense, a spidey sense. And my spidey sense is telling me that you totally aced that thing. No questions asked.”

You laughed loudly. “Spidey sense?”

“No questions,” he repeated as he nuzzled his nose into your hair. 

“Fine then,” you snuggled up further into him. “No questions.”

[suiana]

(yandere! t-rex hybrid x gn! worker reader) (wrote this because i saw this one video where it said t-rexes actually had good eyesight n stuff...) (erm brief violent and murder description)

you thought he couldn't see you.

that's what you were told. they told you that he had poor eyesight, that you wouldn't have to worry about him seeing you.

you saw that he had a mask on. the guards probably put it on to block his nose, so obviously it wasn't that he smelt you. tracks? you and your friend were careful to not leave any obvious ones. noise? surely you two weren't that noisy...

so how on earth did he find you two?!

"haha... oh, your face is so cute."

the hybrid snorts, wiping away the blood on his cheek as he trudges towards you. you take a step back, trying to put distance between you and the volatile hybrid. with shaky breaths, you nervously recall the previous events that had happened for things to have led to this.

you and your friend were tasked to enter the t-rex hyrid's enclosure after hours to look for something that a scientist had previously left inside. a chemical of sorts, one that made the hybrids more aroused and violent.

the guards and higher ups all said that they had tranqualized him and that he wouldn't be awake. they even said that if by any chance he had woken up he would be in poor condition and you two would be able to escape easily.

that was far from the truth.

the second you entered his enclosure, your friend had informed you that he could hear something moving. that should've been your cue to leave but... you were naive and wanted to finish your task. you should've known that there was something going on when the scientists let you two in without any form of protection.

because unfortunately, a few minutes after that, you watched in horror as the hybrid ripped your friend to pieces, mercilessly taking your friend away from you. his screams ring in your ear, forever traumatizing you as his mauled body now lay just a few feet away from you and the hybrid.

which is what brings us to your current predicament.

"you... how did you find us?! they said you were tranqualized and-"

you nervously babble, pointing a shaky finger at the bloodied hybrid who smiles sinisterly at you. you watch as he shrugs, taking long strides as he licks the blood of your friend off his fingers.

"what? never expected me to find you huh?"

he snickers, eyes looking down at you as though you were some sort of ant. you could only let out a soft whimper as you try to back up, only to trip on a rock as the hybrid laughs cruelly.

"oh you really are so cute! look at you! all scared and shaking... do you think i'll kill you?"

the hybrid mocks, smiling at you as his sharp teeth make you dread what he may do to you. shit, those teeth look sharper than knives! it'll be like going through a meat grinder!

"p-please! i only wanted to retrive something that the higher ups told me to do! i thought you had bad eyesight and-"

"me? bad eyesight?"

the hybrid interrupts, pausing in his steps as he raises an eyebrow at you.

"my dear, my eyes are far from being bad. in fact, i think they may be better than yours."

he laughs at you, shaking his head as you feel helplessness fill your mind. what? his eyesight was... good? did the higher ups lie to you?

"that's how i found you two obviously. this damn... muzzle blocks my senses."

he grumbles, poking the mask that restricted his sense of smell. you watch in horror as he suddenly pins you to the ground, a crazed look in his eyes as you say your final prayers. shit... you were definitely going to die here, weren't you?

"i'm so glad those people kept their promise... wanted you for so long."

he mutters, his tail wrapping around your leg as you freeze in place. ah... so this really was a set-up from the very beginning.

"a-are you going to eat me?"

you stammer, looking up at him as tears prick your eyes. shit, so your employers really were sending you and your friend to your deaths, huh? did they run out of food? and promise? was this damned t-rex thirsting over you and your friend? did the higher ups promise to give you as meat if he did something?

you whimper softly, looking at the t-rex as your body shakes fearfully. meanwhile, the hybrid remained quiet for a second, processing your words before deadpanning at you.

"eat you? ah... so they didn't tell you, huh?"

he mumbles, pursing his lips together before snickering again. little did you know that your fate would've been worse than just being offered to the hybrid as a piece of meat.

"why would i eat my future mate?"

"huh?"

oh. so they offered more than just your body to him.

"oh... so you're not going to eat me?"

"well i will eat you, just in a... different way. i'll eat your friend for real though."

you maintain eye contact with him, fear leaving your body momentarily. you blink slowly, staring at him with an exasperated expression before he breaks the silence with his words.

"what? why are you looking at me like that?"

oh wow, maybe because he just admitted to wanting to eat you? sexually? ugh... you can't tell whether this was worser than just being mauled to death like your poor friend over there.

the hybrid notices how your eyes drifted towards your friend before he pouts. his eyebrows furrow slightly, and the corners of his lips point downwards.

"aw, come on! i'll treat you good, promise!"

you stare at him with a dead expression before replying to him in the most deadpan voice you could come up with.

"you literally live in a dinosaur enclosure."

"hey! it's not my fault that those humans took me away and placed me in here! besides... it's pretty comfortable. they give me food and i don't really need to hunt anymore."

he then pouts before sighing dreamily.

"you really are the prettiest... can't believe i had to adore you from afar."

he shakes his head before using one of his hands to caress your cheek. you freeze as you feel his sharp claws touch your skin. shit, were they always this sharp? and what the hell did he mean by adore? did he like you?

"a-adore me? what, are you in love or something-"

"love? yeah... i am in love with you... even if this is the first time we officially talked."

he mutters, hearts in his eyes as he continues to gently touch your face as though you were a delicate statue.

huh... so he loves you? no wonder he isn't eating you... yeah, you remember doing some tasks in his enclosure before this encounter. maybe that's when he fell for you. wait, didn't he also say something about a promise?

"hey the promise-"

"ah, i said i would stop trying to eat them if they gave you to me."

oh.

so the higher ups really traded you and your friend just so this dinosaur guy would stop trying to eat them.

you continue deadpanning at him before groaning. damn it, why did you have to be subjected to the feelings of this stupid hybrid?

[yukimiyaz]

THANKFUL

miya osamu x gn!reader

includes: bf osamu. afab!reader. smut lol. he uses a shit ton of pet names. he might have a bit of an oral fixation if you squint.

notes: old fic. wanted it here lol

You were just trying to bring your boyfriend lunch. 

Walking in with your sweet smile and warm eyes and the packed container that Osamu had left on the kitchen counter this morning from running late. Granted, he does work at his own restaurant, so it’s not like he would’ve gone hungry (or been ridiculed for his tardiness) but still. You know how fussy he gets when he is looking forward to a certain meal and you didn’t want his poor employees to have to be subjected to that. 

So in you came—like the absolutely great partner you are, regardless of what his brother (your annoyance) says—saving the day yet again with your boyfriend’s lunch in hand. 

And it was damn near sickening, how his eyes lit up the instant he heard that bell jingle and saw it was you, the immediate softening of his face as a smile spread across his lips. He was pouting too, so yeah, you really did save his poor employees.  

“Aw, baby. Ya didn’t have to do that,” he had cooed as you walked behind the counter to give it to him, letting him pull you into a big hug as he swayed you both side to side. 

(But the thankful, knowing look his cashier had given you only confirmed your suspicions as you returned the embrace and let him peck your lips). 

It was that same cashier that smiled at you both, waved you away, shooed you off. “You can go boss, don’t worry. I’ve got this covered. Rush time is over.” 

Now normally, it would take a bit more convincing for Osamu to leave one of his workers manning the front all by themselves. Normally, he’d wait until one of the others returned from their own lunch before he deserted them and took his own. Normally, he puts his boss priorities first by a smidge in situations like this. 

Normally, you don’t end up with your back arching off his hardwood desk with your muted moans echoing off his walls. 

“What. A fuckin’. Sweetheart ,” Osamu grunts, each word punctuated by the pistoning of his hips as his hands grip onto your waist.  

You grapple for him, for something, anything to hold onto as he mercilessly fucks into you. One hand wrapping around his wrist, the other trying to reach around his shoulders. He ruts into you again and you think you nearly bust your lip from how hard you’re biting it trying to keep your voice down. 

“I just—you left it—so I—” a gasp rips out of your throat as he shifts, the head of his dick brushing against that spot in you that makes you want to scream. Nails digging into his skin, mouth dropping open to pant an ungodly variance of his name.  

“You what?” he asks, and you fucking hate the way he sounds so collected when you’re literally losing your damn mind right here in his cramped office. “Thought about me, hm? Takin’ care of me, ain’t ya? My sweet baby.” 

He leans over you enough to steal a sloppy kiss from your parted lips, drinks in the sighs and breathy exhales you push out. His eyes catch yours, stone grey pinning you, as if his arms coming up to cage you weren’t enough. A calloused, familiar hand cups your jaw, grips it like he thinks you would even dare look away. 

“Yeah, my sweet fuckin’ baby,” he smirks in a way that has your stomach flipping ten times over, coil tightening up. “My turn to take care of you. Show you how fuckin’ thankful I am.” 

And you want to dismiss him or shush him or curse him or something. He didn’t even lock the fucking office door for Christ’s sake, and it’s too loud. You’re both way too loud, and you want to tell him that. Tell him that he needs to be quiet, needs to keep you quiet, because you don’t think you’d ever be able to face any of his employees again if you knew they could hear you right now. 

But all that comes out is a broken off moan into his mouth as his pace doubles. It’s hot in his office. You always berate him for not buying a fan, but you’re not too sure the lack of circulation is really what’s to blame for the heat this time as a rough hand slips between your bodies and the pad of a thumb presses to your clit. 

“Shh, shh, baby.” And oh, now he worries about your volume? “Don’t want them to hear me showin’ my thanks, d’ya?”  

His grip eases up a little on your jaw, just enough for him to slip his thumb up to rub against your bottom lip, tugging it down and letting it go. You can practically see the hearts in his eyes as he does it again, licking his own lips as he plays with yours. He’s always told you that you had a pretty mouth—when you were eating, talking, just sitting. You catch him staring, call him out just to watch him dopely smirk, listen to some cheeky remark he’ll give. 

Now, though, it seems like every bit of cheeky is drained from him as he darts his tongue out to lap into your mouth, seemingly forgetting to even pull his thumb away before doing so. 

If the chorus of thank yous he’s been spewing weren’t enough for you to get it, the ones he’s been quite literally drilling into you are. Your pussy flutters around him just barely, and that’s all the sign that he needs. His thumb on your clit speeds up, rubs patterns in a way you almost think could be the kanji for thank you as well. It’s what it feels like. Like every bit of him is exuding gratitude. Like he’s trying to engrain it into your pretty little brain one way or another. And you’re more than happy to help him. 

He pulls back with a string of spit connecting you, warm pants into your mouth and on your cheeks as his hips stutter and his eyes go a little hazy.  

“Fuck, fuck. C’mon sweetheart, cum f’me.”  

And he’s just so damn pretty, flushed and breathless above you, chest heaving just a bit with every rock of his hips. You don’t think you could deny him even if you wanted to, and for some reason you’re nodding. Your frazzled little head bobbing as you tug him closer, bring him down again, let his mouth muffle your cry of his name as your legs start to shake and your cunt clenches around his cock. And Osamu, he’s never been one to receive without giving, and the same applies to this moment now as he gives your pretty cunt a few more shallow thrusts until a new type of warmth is being shot into you. 

It’s static in the office for a few moments, staggered breaths and hammering heartbeats as the two of you stay pressed together. Slowly, Osamu raises his head up enough to look down at you again in his post-orgasmic glory, and with the look in his eyes you already want to kill him. 

“Did ya get the message? Or do we need to go another—” 

You shove his face away before he can even finish, rolling your eyes despite the slippery grin that spreads across your lips. And he just presses a kiss to your palm, giving it a lippy little bite when you try to shove him away the second time. 

You were just trying to bring your boyfriend lunch, but now you’re rushing out of his restaurant with a red face and messy hair, trying to get to your car before his cum starts to leak out too much. 

And pretending you didn’t see the look his poor cashier gave you as you ran out. 

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Fast Food Snack

My story starts with a close, but I'm hungry...

An intimidating glare from the baggy-eyed manager tells me to back the fuck off, but I have no intention of leaving. I'm starving and this asshole has no idea who he's staring at! After all, how could an old fast-food worker named Darryl know that I just discovered the ability to control dumb little minds like his?

"Open up," I say, licking my lips at the feeling of inserting myself into his head.

Mind control isn't like how it's portrayed in movies. I don't just snap my fingers and bring victims into a vacantly drooling state. No! It's much more invasive than that, and it's much, much more unpleasant for my poor targets. Imagine a sickeningly stiff presence pushing through the back of your skull. It shoves your own ideas and intentions aside, ripping away the control you had over your body. You probably always took that control for granted, but now you can't cause so much as the blinking of an eyelid. Most people spend their time in my thrall screaming internally.

Being sidelined in your own body takes some getting used to, and Darryl isn't enjoying it in the slightest. Nevertheless, I use his hands to unlock the front door and invite myself inside.

"Please, come in," I make his gravelly voice speak, "Can I suck your dick as an apology?"

I feel the man cringe on the inside. He hates hearing and feeling his own mouth make such a vulgar offer, but his stoic face doesn't crack. This idiot is trapped inside his own mind while I get to puppet around his body. I don't even have to tell him what to do.

"Maybe later," I pinch the manager's cheek, "Let's get you deep-fried and seasoned first."

With a vice grip on his brain, I steer the fast-food worker off to do my bidding. Humiliating my playthings is the perfect appetizer...

Darryl spends the next few minutes collecting all the leftover food from the garbage, dumping it all over himself. The manager doesn't stop there, proceeding to lay on the floor and rub all the grease and ketchup into his clothes. That trademark glare stays frozen on his face the entire time he soaks in the day's old fries and ketchup.

"I'm a messy little bitch," he states blandly from the ground, "And an ugly, dumb, low-life."

His words make me chuckle, even though I'm the one making him say it. My metaphorical arm is rammed up his ass like a ventriloquist with a dummy. It's also me that's puppeting his hands to rub the food into the pits of his polo and the crotch of his khakis.

"You really should've just let me inside," I purr with my own mouth, "Now I'm gonna make you act like a messy bitch forever."

Darryl's face remains unbothered, but I feel the real man panic inside. If he had control over his eyes right now, they would be bulging in pure terror. Instead, they gaze passively back at me from the floor.

"Boss? Where'd you go?" a smooth voice interrupts my fun with Darryl.

A tall, dark, and handsome young man walks out from the back kitchen. His thick arms and bushy beard make me salivate. The name tag on his juicy pec reads 'Josh' but there's plenty of other things I'd rather call a stud like him.

"I thought you said we'd leave early if we got everything cleaned up," he grunts quietly.

The handsome fool is too preoccupied with wiping down tables to notice his manager rolling in grease and condiments. Briefly glimpsing in his mind tells me that he wants to finish his shift as quickly as possible, but I won't be letting him off work any time soon.

He jumps when he finally notices me, startled to find a customer still lurking after closing hours. His scowl shortly returns to his face as he pushes out his chest to address me.

"We're closed. You need-" his voice cuts as I commandeer his heavy body and thick neck.

With me in control, Josh's autonomy is squeezed into a corner of his skull, but he still retains all his senses; feeling his muscles relax, licking his salty lips, taking a deep breath of greasy air, and staring at his new master. I make him walk forward until his bulging chest is brushing against my own.

"I can give you a much better show than that dried-up, old, dishrag," I make him say, gesturing to Darryl with his broad hands, "My man-tits are fat and juicy just for you. Let me be your little slut. Fuck me like the breedable piece of meat I am."

Internally, Josh is furious, but his voice doesn't waver as he delivers the words I wrote for him. He's like a Ken doll I'm playing with, only none of it is pretend.

"I think I'd prefer dinner and a show," I giggle, "Why don't we let that dried-up, old, dishrag fuck your ass. He is your boss, after all."

Josh doesn't visibly react to the idea. He doesn't wince or crack the scowl I'd left on his handsome face. He just marches to the back and lays himself out on the dirty floor. Darryl follows, per the instructions I'm pumping into each of his limbs.

"Give it to me hard, boss," Josh says in a low monotone.

"Prepare for a rough ride, muscle-slut." Darryl answers his employee dryly.

Of course, internally, both men are freaking out. It's hard to tell who's more panicked; the manager who's about to dog-fuck his employee, or the roided up gym-rat who's about to take it like a bitch. Darryl wants nothing more than to pull Josh off the floor and run out of the building, but I hold his body firmly in place, making the man unbuckle his stained khakis like he's about to get lucky. Josh is the same, desperately trying to break free and attack, but I've got full control over his bulky body. I make him stick out his tongue and lick the floor like a pathetically horny animal. He still has to taste every inch.

"Papa's ready for ya," Darryl moans, pulling out the cock I easily inflated to full mast.

"Hurry Papa!" Josh squirms as he thumbs his pants below his wiggling bubble butt.

"What the hell?" a nervous voice stutters.

Turning, I find a much less impressive man walking into the kitchen. His name tag reads 'Aaron' and he must've been bullied into cleaning the bathrooms for the last twenty minutes. He's missed a lot, but it doesn't take long for me to catch him up.

"I'm enjoying a meal here!" I bite, mildly annoyed, "Shut up and make yourself useful."

His mind folds instantly to my efforts, and I know exactly how to put him to use. Aaron snaps his mouth, marches around before me, and kneels. Without a single breath of pause, his hands unzip my jeans and pull out my aching penis. He swallows it whole, bobbing his head expertly. Aaron's never done this before, but I've had a few blow jobs and I know exactly how I like it; with a throat wide open and lips at the base.

"Continue," I sigh in pleasure towards Josh and Darryl.

The pair unfreeze, resuming the messed up porno I'm forcing them to star in. The manager leans into Josh's back and enters him from behind. "You're gonna have to take Daddy's dick every time we close. Got it, boy?" he grunts down at his employee. The bearded stud looks up to his boss, and sucks some of the various condiments out of the man's stained shirt. "Yes, sir. I want to end every day like this, here, with you inside me." Darryl continues slapping his groin into Josh's splayed rear, pushing the younger man's face against the cold damp floor.

It isn't long before Aaron's expert dick-sucking leaves me cumming in his stomach. Finally, I'm satiated. "FfuuuuUUUuuuUucck..." I grunt out a long guttural moan of relief.

When my eyes flutter open, I see the mess I've left in this little restaurant...

The three men stop with the act; Aaron pauses, my dick still halfway down his throat; Josh freezes in the middle of writhing with fake pleasure; Darryl even ceases his brutal rape of his employee despite never reaching a climax. None of it matters anymore. My rocks have gotten off, so my little puppet show is over. I'm left with three terrified fast-food workers with broken wills.

"Sorry guys," I pull away and zip up my pants, "I get a little carried away when I'm horny."

"It's, ok," they all answer back nonchalantly, but I can hear their true thoughts screaming, locked away somewhere in their minds.

With a wave of my hand, I wipe the experience from their memories. I turn off their consciousness and set Darryl, Josh, and Aaron on autopilot. Like actors in a bad hypnotism movie, they rise and get back to their nightly chores. This time, their jaws are slack and their eyes are vacant. They'll finish closing down the restaurant and go home, where they'll scrub themselves clean and get a long night of rest. By tomorrow, all of the psychological and physical remnants of what I've done will be gone.

For them, it'll be like I never set foot inside this place. For me, I'll have to pretend that I didn't just become an evil and sadistic super villain. I never did end up eating any food, but I did satisfy some sort of hunger inside me...

...at least for now.

I let my urges get the better of my powers. Being a mind controller is hard. I can barely even control my own mind at times. Wandering away from the isolated, little, restaurant, I wonder how long it'll take before I lose control of myself again...

To be continued?

[hanasnx]

❝ incendium. ❞

── stephen glass x reader

MINORS DNI 18+ WORD COUNT: 3.3k SUMMARY: when a lie snowballs out of stephen's control, you swoop in for unorthodox damage control. NOTES: sorry i posted with the wrong title at first | wrote most of this over a year ago, so the style is a bit different, but stick with it trust me | if you say "part two" in the comments, you better come into my inbox with an actual plot or idea that will fit this "au" WARNINGS: f!reader | editor-in-chief!reader | suggestive content including sex and porn mentions so no minors still cos i dont want them on my page ever | deceit | inappropriate contracts.

When you’re the Editor-in-Chief for the biggest magazine of the year, you’ll have a couple thousand rumors spread about you. You wouldn’t pretend that its source wasn’t jealousy that drove poor opinions of you to circle the sandbox. It’s child’s play really, the way sparks of lies catch ablaze to spread like a dry forest’s fire. You’ve always imagined the end of the world to begin and end with a great flood— it was a blue planet after all. With that comforting metaphor, a measly incendium left you unbothered. 

You didn’t have a free moment in your schedule, and it had been like that for months. Being in charge meant shouldering the work of the workers underneath you, and it often meant taking some home with you— work, not workers. Speaking of which, you’d wish you’d find somebody decent to take home. Unfortunately, a relationship really didn’t fit into your hectic calendar. 

It was nice to have a personal assistant. She took care of the unimportant things for you, while you got to work on time and started on your bulleted list in order of priority. Said assistant, Maddy, sat at a desk outside your office, and when she entered to drop off your coffee she picked up, you seized the opportunity to inquire her knowledge on number one on your list. 

Maddy hummed questioningly as you waited, blinking at her over your reading glasses. “Oh!” She clapped her hands together once her memory was jogged. “The New Republic ran something a little detrimental to our brand. Our CEO’s legal team reached out to me to ask you to handle it before they had to step in. The last thing they want is a lawsuit—“ she rambled on and you held up your hand, quieting her. Upturning your palm to invite her to hand you TNR’s piece that supposedly mentioned this company. 

Maddy read your mind, spryly collecting the paper to place in your possession. 

It took seconds for you to scan it, creasing your brows in response to its misinformation. Maddy studied your reaction to its error. For you, this was not a matter of opinion, it was a matter of fact, and required your addressment. 

“Get Chuck on the phone, I want his earliest appointment.”

STEPHEN GLASS moistened his lips as he furiously typed up his latest story, anxious to meet the deadline with a particularly difficult article. His coworker Caitlyn swung in by his door frame. “Yo, Steve, Amy and I wanted to head to the bar after work today. You free?” Caitlyn had figured out the best way to ask him if he wanted to hang out was to put as little pressure on it as possible. He reminded her of a chihuahua…consistently shaken. 

Stephen glanced her way but continued typing. “Yeah? Got it… maybe…” he drawled dreamily, and she concluded he wasn’t entirely listening. 

Inviting herself inside, she slumped into one of his cold, blue, faux leather chairs. “What are you working on anyway?” 

“The Gainsmen piece. I was supposed to have it done already but it got buried.” he responded, eyes glued to the screen as if hypnotized. His hand blindly fumbled for his pen off to the side, like a good friend Caitlyn leaned over to slide the utensil into his fingertips. He banged the end of it against the meat of his thigh, revealing the ink tip so he could scribble some sort of note on his pad, all without ripping his pupils off the growing lines on the monitor. His coworker had never seen him so… intense. To free up his other hand for efficient typing he tucked the staff of the pen in between his lips. 

Stephen had the power to make her worry for him. From what she observed, he was overworked, and spent more time here than he ever did at home when he should be resting. That reasoning eased her into her next question, “You want me to help?” 

A sudden shift in his demeanor, his full attention on her for the first time since she entered his office, raising his brows with a hopeful glint in his dilated pupils. He pinched the pen in his knuckles, balancing the end of it against the corner of his mouth. “Would you?” His disbelief was adorably naive, as if surprised he’d ever receive help… if he deserved it. A smile tugged at Cait’s lips when she nodded, parting them to respond when a slam of a door tore both of their attentions away. 

It was you, the notorious editor of their largest competitor. It had silenced the entire floor, quiet enough to hear your heels click on the thin carpet, and Stephen’s pen drop onto his keyboard. Cait glanced at him as he scrambled to catch it in a failed attempt to prevent its further clattering against the keys. 

Every pair of eyes was on you as you cut through the stations. Your mere presence froze those around you, as if afraid to do something wrong and offend you in some way. At least, some of them anyway. Stephen always thought it was because of how stunning you were. Bone-chillingly authoritative in stockings and a pencil skirt. Behind his glasses his pupils dilated as they scanned from bottom to top, watching you walk further from him through the glass of his office. He gulped, thoughtlessly leaning in his seat to consume every angle of you his limited view from his desk would allow. Caitlyn had faced him again just in time to catch him in the act, and he settled back into his chair as if he hadn’t moved at all. She resisted the urge to flash him a quizzical look as he sheepishly watched himself fiddle with his pen in his lap. 

You did not waver your gaze from your goal, and Chuck had been expecting you. He wore the warmest smile he could muster as he opened his door for you, a headache having come on from the call he received earlier, announcing your scheduled arrival. “Miss (l/n),” he greeted with a nod, and you returned the greeting as he closed the door behind you. The frosted windows left a lot to the imagination of the employees on this floor. Everyone wordlessly agreed to remain reticent in order to eavesdrop on any juicy tidbit they could claw their sleep-deprived hands onto. Not only that, but as if enslaved to their subconscious desires, they shifted closer, gravitating towards Chuck’s office, crudely concealing the way they inclined their ears. 

Stephen’s hands clammed up, and he dropped the pen in between his legs so he could wipe his palms on his pants. He had a feeling he knew what you were here for. 

The conversation inside was indecipherable to the surrounding throng, except for one fragment at the resolution, resounding through the room, causing prying eyes to desperately study your blurred figures in hopes to interpret what kind of violent gestures you punctuated your threat with. 

“I will not be trifled with. My magazine did not tank my first year, it was the year before I was brought on board.” Able to see your arm raise, clutching a fluttering page, and slam it down onto Chuck’s desk. “When I came on I saved that establishment. I’m sick of reading about how the last Editor’s fault was mine! I expected more from The New Republic.��� You had straightened. “Let a simple fact like this go unchecked in the future and I’ll poach you. Understand?” 

It was impossible to tell whether or not you waited for Chuck’s response before storming out. Stephen still thought you were as elegant as ever, observing you as you strode to the exit. He had suspected why you were here, and what you said at Chuck’s had confirmed it. You had nipped Chuck for signing off on Stephen’s piece. His mouth ran dry when your gaze landed on him. You didn’t recognize him as the man who wrote what you had come to pontificate on. Instead, you saw a boy in glasses, gawking at you from the seat of his desk as you happened to face him and accidentally make eye contact. 

Stephen had no idea you didn’t know who he was, and that assumption caused him to raise his hand at you to offer you a polite smile and a wave. You acknowledged it to be proper, unfaltering in your traipse. Just as soon as you’d left, the floor reignited, bustling and trucking through paperwork as if you’d never appeared. 

Caitlyn, unaware of Stephen’s current situation, had stood from the chair, and leaned against the back of it as she collected her thoughts, narrowing her eyes at Stephen. “What was that?” she inquired slyly, curious as to why Stephen had greeted you so familiarly. According to Cait’s knowledge, you and Stephen have never formally met, and you weren’t exactly the most accessible person to befriend. Casually greeting you was simply not done, unless it was a peer like Chuck. 

Stephen had returned to his monitor, nervously tapping the pen against the desk surface as the gears in his head turned. “What? You mean the wave?” he affirmed with a smile tugging at his lips, about to tell her the truth of why he did it. 

When you re-entered his mind, he idled, reminiscing on your outfit today. How your hips swayed in your smart pencil skirt, the lines of your stockings at the backs of your legs, the tasteful blouse and how it accentuated your exquisite outline. As a writer, Stephen admired your professional work. As an artist, he agonizingly wished he knew you— inside and out. When Caitlyn demanded an answer, Stephen looked up at her with a bashful snicker. “I mean… okay, alright,” He clasped his hands together, reminding himself how sweaty they were. 

“Go on, Steph, I’m waiting,” Cait said in a playful tone, eager to hear the gossip she knew he would inevitably spill. Her favorite source of entertainment was Stephen: the human embodiment of the overflowing cup. 

He longed to do just that, hanging his head briefly before feigning defeat. “We kissed.” he conceded as if it was reluctantly drawn from him rather than readily supplied as soon as it was conjured. He didn’t know why he said that, it just slipped out.

“Hey, Stephen,” Amy peeked her head in, seemingly oblivious of the nature of the conversation he and Caitlyn just shared, evidenced by Amy’s immediate interest in Cait’s gaping mouth, readjusting against the door frame. “Wait, wait, what did you say? What did I miss?” 

Cait flashed a look at Stephen as if to ask permission to repeat what he’d just spread. Stephen merely smiled childishly, and pinched his fingers together at the corner of his mouth, running across his lips pretending to zip them. Caitlyn got the message, nodding, and mimicking him. 

Amy sighed in playful annoyance, which only caused the other two to grin knowingly. “Whatever. Stephen, Chuck wants to see you in his office.” 

One more quizzical look from Cait, and he reassured her, “It’s probably nothing,” He met Amy’s gaze, “Tell him I’ll be right there, Ames.” 

We kissed. He’d said. We kissed. A lie he couldn’t stop pondering, and it snowballed into expansion. At first it was an innocent kiss, as virtuous as a young white flower. When it was received with such shock and entertainment, Stephen couldn’t help himself. A kiss became a heated make-out session at a company Christmas party he snuck into. A make-out became a regular occurrence when you just couldn’t stay away from him. A regular occurrence became seeing each other. Became experimental oral. 

All until it became dirty fucking on the side using your power as an Editor over him. “What am I gonna do? Say ‘no’ to her? No,” Stephen shook his head and sipped his Colombian coffee from the slit in its lid. “No,” he swallowed, “not to an Editor-in-Chief.” His regaling earned him pats on the back and laughter from those taking it as a joke. No one thought he was in any real danger. It’s not like he worked underneath her— in an employment stance. 

He couldn’t give it up. Cooking was one thing, but earning the respect of those around all because a woman made of ice was supposedly wrapped around his finger was another high entirely. One he couldn’t give up, no matter how immoral. He admired you— immeasurably— and still he let those words run out of his mouth faster than he could stuff them back in. Filthy secrets about what you’re like in bed, how rough you like it, what position is your favorite. It’s not like he could reveal those details without unveiling a little of himself and his fantasies as well. 

He never expected that it’d turn out like this. 

Never expected he’d be summoned to your office. 

“Miss—“ Maddy’s clear voice rings in your ear, interrupting you during your process of scratching your notes into the margin of the text. 

You sigh. “Madeline, if you’re here about Frank’s paternal leave again I’ll be forced to fire that baby myself.” 

She stutters, caught off guard by your sour attitude and poorly-timed joke. “No, Miss, I’m here to announce Mr. Glass’s arrival. I made him wait a few minutes- like you asked.” 

You peer up from your work at Maddy who’s in a straight-and-narrow posture by the door as you gesture incredulously with your hand. “Go ahead, send him in.” She nods, and hastily abides by your notion, fetching him. 

This time you don’t redirect your eyes from your thick pile of papers as you annotate, the nervous footsteps of your anticipated company echoing through your cavernous office. He follows the rug across the long pathway to the chair in front of your desk, taking a seat, and the leather creaks against itself. 

He takes notice of your strategic reticence. “Hi.” his wavering voice is a near whisper. Your script comes to a screeching halt. 

“Mr. Glass,” you reply, “you are a man-in-demand, aren’t you?” You swipe a page to the left, noting at the top right to bookmark it. 

Sheepish, Stephen stutters in his response, lips curled politely up, “I- I suppose so. I suppose I wouldn’t know.” To keep him nervous, you hum, and he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Every movement, no matter how minute, creates the leather din that damn-near echoes in your resonate office-space. He waits for you to speak, and when it becomes unbearable he fills the silence. “Is this about your talk with Chuck– er, Charles Lane? Because- about that, if you just listen–” 

At that, your eyes finally flicker up to meet his. “No, Mr. Glass, it is not.” He swallows. It’s becoming increasingly clear why you’re known as cold. It’s an unforgivable atmosphere, and a shiver runs up his spine powerful enough that he takes his hand to rub his own arm to generate warmth. You stand, and he presses his lips into a thin line, watching your every move as you gracefully close the script on your desk with a rare finesse. “You’ve brought a lot of attention to my door, you know that?” Strategically, Stephen remains silent as you leisurely round your desk. His hands begin to clam up again, and he rubs them on his thighs as he stares hard at his lap. A whole new level of intimidation has been reached being this close to you at the center of your focus. He’s unsure how to play this right now, and he finally registers your proximity when out of the corner of his eye he sees you sit on the edge of your desk adjacent to him. Your smooth legs are crossed within arm’s length of him. You fold your arms over your chest, your unwavering gaze making him feel smaller and smaller. Regardless of that, you can tell he’s not going to break. So you increase the pressure. “Have we met before?”

Big, innocent eyes peer up at you, hesitant to face you as he shakes his head marginally. The instinct to question if you’re mad at him dies in his throat. “No, ma’am.” The panic rises in his chest now that he’s denied having met you aloud, but you can’t possibly know about the lies he’s told, can’t prove he told them. Yet when he meets that piercing gaze, there’s a part of him that wants to come clean to you about everything if it means pleasing you. Though there is his job to think about, what would people say about a writer who lies about sexual encounters with the company’s competitor? It can’t be good.

“Is that a fact?” You raise your brows at him, and he nods slowly. “So, can you tell me why others have a different perception on that?”

He shakes his head.

“Mr. Glass, as frustrating as this all has become, you’re not here so I can berate you.” you concede, and at those words he visibly perks up. You reach over, plucking a folder from across your desk that stretches your body out in a specific way that rides your skirt up. Before he knows it, he’s sneaking a glance at the exposed skin of your thigh, how the flesh pushes together. The promiscuous rumors he’s spread about you and his own animal attraction to you has gone to his head because in that very moment he considers how warm and tepid your thighs must be against his ears. His salivating tongue rolls between his lips. He morphs into the posture of a goddamn saint as soon as you slam the folder onto the surface in front of him, he jolts right into it from the sudden noise, as if a chastising ruler had just struck his naughty hands. “I’m prepared to make you an offer.”

“What is this?” The shiny material of the folder falls open, and he inclines forward to read the cover of the thick stack of papers within it.

“An NDR.”

“An NDR? For what?” Stephen plays dumb, but you naturally would assume he’d know nothing about what this deal entails. You give him a silent moment to scan it. Uneasily, as if he’s reading it wrong, he relays the synopsis of one of the passages. “You want… you want to have…”

“Sex.” you reply casually. “You have heard of it?” you joke. “You paint our encounters so colorfully in your little stories, I assumed you were far from a virgin. Or at least well-versed in porn.”

Stephen can feel his throat closing up, shifting in his seat as he engages with you, his mouth in a permanent gaping position, looking for an opportunity to get a word in. “No, no.” He shakes his head, gesturing to himself at his chest. “You don’t understand, I don’t know what you’re talking about- honest!”

“Mr. Glass.” you chide with a playful curl to your lips. Your hands grip the edges of the wood, leaning towards him as if you’re exchanging coy secrets. “Don’t be modest, you’d make a killing in the fictional industry. Whatever are you doing at The New Republic?”

He rallies, sharply inhaling through his nose. “Let me just get out of your hair, and we can forget this whole thing happened—” he pleads, and in an effort to remove himself from the confrontation, he rises from his seat. Your hand gives him a firm push at his chest, planting his ass right back where it belongs.

“Mr. Glass, by all means I’m not keeping you here against your will, but need I remind you: I am not to be trifled with. Forgive me for being indelicate, but why not have the real thing?”

A second of silence passes, and Stephen gulps. You stand, and return to your chair behind your desk. “Think about it.” you tell him, and he takes it as his cue to leave, hastily gathering himself to stride towards the exit. 

[girlsdads]

maxiel; post-silverstone quali hurt/comfort, mild sexual content, ~900k

Steam is already curling out from under the bathroom door by the time Max returns to the suite. They’d ridden together that morning, but he’d left his debrief and found his motorhome empty. Some poor VCARB hospitality worker had been faced with Max’s frustrated disappointment upon hearing Daniel had already called a car. Another thing to hate about this year. Max can count on one hand the times Daniel’s made it out of Q2. It makes him want to run every other car off the track next time—he’d gladly take one million penalties if it meant Daniel got to sail right through.

He shimmies out of his jacket, drapes it over the back of one of the starkly modern chairs arranged in a stupid little seating area near the door. Rainwater drips onto the cushion, oddly satisfying. He thinks about Daniel in the hot, hot shower, washing the chill from his bones. Max himself doesn’t mind the weather much, but he could rip the clouds from the sky with how the rain makes Daniel shiver and shrink.

Max sheds his shirt next, tossing it onto the still unmade bed. Kicks his shoes off, hops from one foot to the other peeling his jeans down his legs. He’s naked by the time he enters the bathroom, the humid air heavy on his skin. He can see Daniel’s lovely silhouette through the steam, the strong lines of his back down to the gentle curve of his soft hips. He’s got his forearms pressed to the wall, head ducked and resting on his clasped hands. He doesn’t startle when Max opens the glass door and steps in behind him.

Inside the spacious stall the air feels thicker, almost suffocating. Daniel’s curls are flat to his forehead and his skin is flushed pink. He’s been in here for a long time already, Max can tell.

“Daniel,” Max touches the flat of his palm softly to the small of Daniel’s back. He is so warm. It takes everything in Max not to plaster himself to Daniel and shove them both against the shower wall, to feel him everywhere. But Daniel has been in here for too long and his sensitive skin will be getting pruny.

Max opens his mouth to say as much, but Daniel cuts him off. “None of it was my fucking fault, today.” His voice is practically a hiss.

“They put you out into traffic,” Max says calmly, his thumb rubbing small circles into one of the dimples at the base of Daniel’s spine. Max had been coming around toward the pitlane when his radio had chirped with Daniel is out now, Max. Max had of course seen Daniel pull onto the track, had seen the traffic there in front of him. Had tried to push Daniel forward with the sheer will of his own mind, as if his devotion alone could overcome shitty mechanics and shittier strategy.

“If it was me fucking up—I could handle that, y’know,” Daniel laughs, one of his honking ones, but it’s humorless. “They want me to prove myself? When they don’t give me a fucking fighting chance?”

Daniel suddenly whips around to face Max, his big round eyes a bit red like he’s been crying but a bit wild like he’s ready to put his fist through a wall. Max can’t help the way his cock starts to thicken a little between his legs.

“I dunno if I can do another year with this team, Maxy,” he says after a moment, his gaze flicking from holding Max’s to cast down at the tiled floor. The resigned admission is swallowed by the thick swirl of steam surrounding them.

Max chokes on the lump of panic that suddenly rises in his throat, the lingering dread that Daniel would not bother with him if he were no longer racing. The insidious little voice in his head that wishes Checo would just… disappear, so Daniel can have back the seat that has always been his.

Before Max’s brain can continue its spiral, Daniel chuckles, shakes his head, smiles tiredly but genuinely. His wrinkled fingertips come up to caress Max’s jaw in a way that makes Max want to melt into his skin.

“I’m expecting the full WAG experience, once I’m sacked.” He grins.

“You will of course be racing next year, Daniel.” Max is sure of this, as sure as he is of his own career. Though it is delicious to imagine a future where he could publicly pamper Daniel to his heart’s content.

“Mmm, you sound so sure of that, baby.” Daniel’s words are a rasp in his ear, breath hot on the wet skin there. “Wish everyone believed in me as much as you and I do.”

Max hears himself hiccup a gasp as Daniel’s teeth scrape over his earlobe at the same moment his hand wraps around where Max is fully hard, now. The raised wrinkles on Daniel’s fingertips feel like needlepoints against him. It makes him tremble.

“Just me, Daniel, and you—just us together—please,” Max pants as Daniel speeds his hand up, slipping the foreskin up and down and up and down. “Fuck everyone else.”

“Yeah, Maxy,” Daniel whispers, almost reverent, as Max spills over his fist. “Fuck everyone else.”

[amaderika]

Sitting on yorus face...

SUPERVISION 🌺 YORU ..

cw 2,174 words, smut, f!reader, sub!yoru, pervert!yoru (sorry i had to), yoru is a major pervert just a warning, boss!reader, dubcon, unprotected sex, creampie, face sitting

a/n sorry for not making that many fics !! ive been super busy and unmotivated to write the past few months 😭

working at an office was boring as shit. it was the last thing you'd want to experience, but you had no choice. it had a good pay and your rank was pretty high too. you could just—boss people around. you'd help them a bit, but that was pretty much all you did.

there was this rookie, his name was yoru— well, at least that's what you remembered. he always looked so miserable and tired. he was pretty quiet. aside from that, barely anything interesting happens in this uninteresting, miserable workspace. the gray carpet that silences your black heels, the constant buzzing sound of the air conditioner—

"ma'am," some guy rose his hand to call your attention. "i need some help here. a problem came up."

ugh, again. . . you almost dozed off at work. thank god your co-worker woke you up though, because the rough, uncomfortable texture of your desk wouldn't have been a great place to sleep on. you got out of your seat and went over to his cubicle.

"what's wrong?" you ask him with a very clear tone of disinterest in your voice. you leaned in further to see the problem he was talking about.

what you didn't know though was that your ass was practically in the face of the poor rookie who sat beside your co-worker.

his face was flushed even if you couldn't see it. your soft, supple ass, was in front of his face. it's not like he was complaining! in fact, he was hoping you'd arch your back even more so he'd get a better view of your panties under your short pencil skirt. how did they even allow uniforms like this? it seemed like it wasn't even fit for working conditions.

your blouse was always so tight, too tight you had to unbutton the 2 top buttons just to breathe properly. you never really thought much about those 2 buttons, but yoru did. he always loved how generous the cleavage was. he enjoyed staring at those presumably warm tits sent from the heavens itself. you wouldn't notice him starting at your chest basically everytime he's talked to you so far—which wasn't that many, but he's still grateful!

your pencil skirt that didn't do that well in covering your thighs or in best cases, your panties! yoru would try to take a sneak whenever he could, especially since it was you two who went home the latest.

late nights in the office are his ultimate favorite. why? well, it's the only time where he can creep up on you as you sleep and wait for him to leave.

whenever you have your head rested on your desk, just trying to get a good rest, yoru sees this as an opportunity. he gets on his knees and spreads your legs wider to get a better peek of what's under that skirt. just one sight of your pussy lips outlined through your panties motivate him even more to finish his work so he can make you proud.

those black see through stockings that never fit you properly was just the cherry to the cake. he wanted to bend you over, pull your panties down and rip those stockings off!

"oh, thanks! i owe you coffee later." your co-worker said. you saved the day, as usual. time to go back to doing absolutely nothing again.

it was a different story for yoru. he felt that familiar throbbing feeling in his pants. he was hard—again. and it was all your fault! why did you have to be this sexy?

this was gonna be a struggle. how can he work properly with a boner? it's even worse than usual! for some reason, he's really agitated. he's not usually like this when he's horny! what's wrong with him?

it's been a few hours since that encounter with your ass in his face and he's still as horny. maybe his lust has went down, but it was just a bit. he needs to fuck you. he really does. he made up a plan in his mind—he would wait until his favorite time of the day again and maybe. . just maybe. . make a move on you. he's gonna try, at least.

the people in the office kept getting lesser and lesser as time passed. it wasn't that long until he was finally alone with you.

"working hard again, rookie?" you approached him from behind. you leaned in to see what he was working on and your hands were on his chair. your fingers touched him slightly. that feeling of your fingertips touching his back even just a bit made his whole day. was he seriously getting hard again. .?

yoru looked down to confirm. yes. he most definitely was.

he tried desperately to hide the obvious tent in his pants, but you were making it hard—especially since you decided to sit beside him! oh, why were you so mean. . how was he gonna save himself from the indescribable embarrassment he was gonna experience once you see his erection?

"if you don't mind, of course, i'm just gonna sit here. you seem pretty lonely all the time and i feel bad for you." you placed your hand on his shoulder as a way of expressing your care for him.

"m-ma'am— i mean miss! i mean. . it's t-totally fine with me! i don't mind at all!" he said with a very visible blush on his face. he made sure to not look in your direction or he might've died then and there.

you were a bit weirded out by his response, but you didn't comment on it. you didn't wanna give this newbie a bad experience at work—that would've ruined your spot in the company.

you were telling him some stories as he was working to make his work experience a little less boring at least. little did you know he wasn't listening at all—not even one bit. he was too focused on trying to relieve the feeling of his throbbing cock whenever you even simply just opened your lips.

"i'm so sorry in advance for what i'm about to do. ." he mumbled. you didn't quite hear him.

as soon as you knew it, yoru grabbed you by the wrist and had you bent over his desk.

"ah! hey— yoru!" shit. why did you have to say his name like that? now he was definitely not letting you go.

yoru held your wrists together but moved one of his hands to bring your face up to kiss him. he kissed you with force, but passion. it was clear that he was waiting for this moment his whole life. you could tell by the way his hand was gripping your wrists.

"i'm sorry! i love you too much!" he cried. wait—he was seriously crying? what?

he sniffled and rubbed his eyes with one hand as he rose your skirt up with the other one. oh, there it was. that sight he was so eagerly wanting to see. your panties!

he wasted no time into pulling your panties down and ripping your stockings off. as soon as he got that view of your panties, he immediately buried his face in your plump, plush ass. he ate your pussy out as if he was on death row and he asked for your pussy as his last meal.

"ungh. . .! yoru!" he winced as he heard you call his name again. he pushed his tongue as deep as possible and started licking. the feeling of his tongue in your warm folds were making him so hard. he felt precum coming out of his cock, soaking his slacks.

"miss please—please sit on my face. put as much pressure as you can on me. i don't care if i can't breathe, please! i need to feel you!" you two were practically on the ground, but who were you to deny his pleas? the way he was begging was so adorable, you couldn't stop yourself. as he laid on the carpet, you sat gently on his face at first, but that was clearly not enough for him. he removed your heels and grabbed your thighs, pushing them so you can apply more pressure.

the sound of wet noises were the only things you could hear. you were seeing stars. yoru was sucking on your clit like there was no tomorrow. he kept licking up your deepest spots.

"ngh. . yo-yoru. . . calm down—" you tried to get off. your pussy was too overstimulated, but he didn't listen. yoru grabbed your thighs so you wouldn't get off his face. he licked his lips and licked one of your ass cheeks. he squeezed your thighs and went back to his meal.

you felt that feeling in your stomach—you were close. really close. "y-yoru! yoru i—"

clearly yoru knew this too, as he started licking more intensely now. he felt your juices spilling in his mouth. he made sure to take every single drop on his tongue. he gave your pussy one last kiss before making you bend over his desk again. he wasn't done? your legs were already giving out. . .

you saw his face covered in your cum. he looked so cute—tear filled eyes with cum on the sides of his mouth. he made sure to lick those up and wiped his tears with his sleeve.

he unbuckled his pants, showing you his long, girthy cock. okay, it wasn't that long, but what he lacked in length he made up for in width. he was thick. his thick tip was leaking out with cum, presumably after he ate you out.

your legs were already trembling so much, so how could you take all of his cock inside you without your legs giving out?

"yoru. . can we take a rest? even just for a few minutes. my legs are sore." rest? that wasn't a word in his vocabulary. no, no. you two are not resting now! that's for later! you'll get a lot of rest once this is over!

"nuh uh," he shook his head and pouted. you were giving up on him so easily. . he didn't like that. he held his cock and stroked it a few times before rubbing the tip against your pussy lips. yep, this was definitely going to be a hard fit.

you were already so wet, but he was struggling to even put the tip inside of you. he kept rubbing it against your entrance but it just wouldn't slide inside! what was he doing wrong?

since doing it gently wouldn't work, yoru spread your legs as wide as he could and forced it in. it was like he was being sucked in. your pussy clamped down on his cock. you were squirming so so much. you've never taken something as big as this before.

"hngh. . m-miss. . !" he was crying, again. he was pretty sensitive for someone this forceful.

"pull out if you can't handle it, b-baby. it's okay. . you don't have to force it." you manage to get out of your mouth despite you being in worse condition than him. although, knowing his past behavior, he's probably not going to pull out. definitely not.

he didn't even start slow once he got inside you. he slammed his hips into you, making you moan so loudly you swear it echoed.

plap, plap, plap. .

the sound of squelching sounds filled the room. yoru lifted your blouse up, making your tits bounce. your nipples were hard from the contact. his hands roughly squeezed your soft mounds as he flicked your nipples. he moved his face closer to you and kissed your cheek.

you see him from the corner of your eye pocket your panties, but you couldn't focus on it for that long because of how much he was whimpering. "haa! nhg. . ! miss! your pussy is—it's squeezing me so tight!" he cried in your neck while grabbing your ass. you tried to grab onto the edge of the desk.

"i'm sorry! i'm so sorry! i'm gonna cum inside of you! 'gonna fill you up with my cum, miss!" he moaned, his thrusts getting sloppy. his stamina seems to have lowered as you felt his warm cum filling your pussy up. there were some spilling out, which he was trying to put back in with his cock.

he came a lot. he couldn't stop cumming. he was panting so much as he tried to pull out, but your pussy didn't want him to leave. "i don't wan' stop cumming! i wanna keep cumming inside of you!" his voice trembled.

after forcing his load into you, he pulled out with a pop sound. he knelt down and licked the cum off your pussy before giving it a kiss. he looked up at the cctv before looking back at you. he sat you down on the chair and kissed you.

"i hope yomi didn't mind. . i have something to share with him anyways." yoru mumbled, touching the panties he stole from you in his pocket.

©amaderika

[crookedteethed]

18+ Thinking about the Rafe’s receiving a blowjob from reader

a/n: sorry this was longer then expected, I was def picturing reader as me 😭

Season One Rafe, god, you don't know why you asked him. You two were at a kook party (you were out of your element). He said he got some Mary Jane. When you asked if he had anything stronger, he pulled out a small white baggy filled with a white substance. He calls it yayo.

When you reached for the tiny bag, he drew his hand back, talking out the side of his mouth, which his blunt didn't reside on, asking you, "what the fuck are you going to do for me?"

He could tell by your bronzy sun tan and too scruffed-up shoes that you were from the cut, so he knew you wouldn't have the money; that's why he also raised the price on his drugs as soon as he saw you approach him.

You were the one to offer up the BJ, which was an offer Rafe couldn't decline. It'd be so sinister to him: getting a blow job from a pogue? Your pogue lips on his kook cock? Fucking disgusting yet appealing.

After the deed is done and you both get what you want, Rafe's telling all his kook friends about how he'd let you blow him just for a bag of coke and telling them how much of a slut you are.

"And I told her," He tells Kelce. "I would have given the bag to her for a buck, but the bitch just wanted my dick so bad."

Season Two this is a hottake, but I totally can see season two Rafe hiring a sex worker to give him a blow job. I mean, the boy's family is in complete disarray; he has no friends (besides Berry?), and he has blood dripping down from his nose to his chin (I'm talking about the one GIF of him, you know, the one). He needs to blow off some steam.

He sits and waits outside the local strip club. He waits until midnight when the strip club is closed, and some of the girls who strip during the day also trick at night.

He sees you standing in the corner with ripped fishnet stockings and a stubbed cigarette between your fingers. He rolls over to you with a wad of cash already in his hand. You hop into his car, and right then, he tells you to suck it now.

Poor girl, for the next thirty minutes, you'd have to endure Rafe's constant head pushing, the sounds of your gurgling and gagging around his cock, and his dirty mouth telling you:

"Take it, you can take it, can't you? Don't you do this to men for a living? Take it, you slut." : (

Season Three I don't think Rafe would particularly ask you for a blow job. I mean, yeah, he loves them, but I wholeheartedly believe that in season three, Rafe is a pussy eater. But he'd only eat your pussy out of necessity.

He needs an alibi for the night the cross was stolen; he was at home eating his girl out, your honor.

You find out he stole and melted the Pogue's cross, you yell at him for how villainess that was, he guilt trips you on how he doesn't know any better, then he distracts you by eating you out.

He doesn't want you (his first actual girlfriend) to see how everyone else sees him on Kildare Island, so he's laying your body supine on your shared bed, making love to your little clit, and eating your pussy like he's a starved man.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Villain: Mölbitur, the Undermiser

The boogyman of many a mining village up in the Talrrun Hills, it's said that this greedy giant lurks in abandoned mineshafts and snaps up the unwarry to toil for him forever beneath the earth. Mölbitur's abductions are often used to explain to small children why their parent(s) are never coming home after the all too common tragedy of a tunnel collapse.

The undermiser dwells not in any one depleted pit, but in the feywild, specifically a dizzying labyrinth of cavernous tunnels and collapsing supports known as the Bled Vein. Here the giant and his victims dig endlessly deeper, endlessly filling in the tunnels behind them with worthless rock and bodies of the exahusted. They seek a vast fortune that they will never uncover, and anything shiny they find in the meantime goes to fill Mölbitur's coffers.

Adventure Hooks:

The party are called to the Talrrun hills after sightings of strange creatures skulking through the night, rummaging through homes, pilfering supplies, and carrying off animals. The culprits turn out to be a band of Knackers, sent by the hill giant to return something that was stolen from him and maybe pressgang a few more workers along the way.

The people of the hills are suspicious of outsiders, but after the party prove themselves by ousting the mischevious mine fey and returning a few of the purloined people and possessions, they'll have more than earned the trust of Talrrun's folk. As the rumors go, some weeks back a youth appeared in one of the nearby villages, dirty and confused and carrying an emerald larger than her head. The girl said her name was Merita Hind, the same name as the eldest daughter of the Hind family who went missing almost two generations back. Before anyone could sort out the truth of the matter, the local count's men and sheriff appeared in town and whisked the girl ( and her riches) away.

Merita is the sort of brave and clever child you'd expect out of a fable, one who figured out a way to slip into fairyland for the explicit puproses of robbing a wealth hoarding giant all so that she could feed her impoverished family. Though she managed to acomplish this heroic and selfless task, what Merita failed to account for was the time and memory distortion that vexes so many feywild travlers. Robed of her own acomplishments by a whim of fate, she returns to a world where her parents are dead and her siblings have either moved away or become parents themselves, leaving the poor girl is in a state of utter confusion. This is not helped by the enterprising count, who has retained Merita as his "guest" in the hopes that she will get over her hysterics trust him enough to reveal the source of the treasures she carried. This is a girl in need of a heroic rescue, luckily there are some fellow heroes around.

While he is all too used to letting others search for riches on his behalf, Mölbitur cannot abide a thief, so when his minions return empty handed (or don't return at all) he'll have to settle things personally. It's shortly after the party rescue Merita that a rumble will shake the ground (or if you're feeling extra spicy, have this mini earthquake occur just as the party is mid way through making their escape) as the giant claws his way out of a nearby hill and begings rampaging through villages demanding the return of his treasures.

Defeating the undermiser is easier said than done, especially with a magical pickax in hand capable of rending the earth or ripping down a castle's battlements. When the party do eventually winnow down his health to 0, Mölbitur will go mythic, cracking open the earth benith them and dragging himself, the party, and all their surroundings into the feywild. Awakening in the dreadful depths of the Bled Vein, the heroes will need to navigate its twisting halls to finish off their quarry, then find a way out that won't have them meeting the same fate as poor Merita

There are many treasures of the earth in Mölbitur's horde, but perhaps most perplexingly is a pair of genasi siblings kept in an iron cage to act as the undermiser's eternal hearth, one of the few sources of true warmpth in the chilling depths. They've been poorly treated in their time, but know many of the giant's secrets, such as the convoluted path he uses to pass to and from the mortal plane. They're willing to share it if the party helps them get home, some distant place called the Ashmourn where tides of fire wash the land.

Artists

[prettyoatmeal]

Confessing Feelings (König x Reader)

First tumblr post since years of being inactive and I’ve grown a real liking towards these fellas. They’re my baby girls ❤️❤️ Reader is GN and smaller-hinted (about 5'2-5'7). Sorry future me for horny posting.

WARNINGS: Very slight mentions of death but very tame. Overall fluff

SUMMARY: You confess your feelings to König in a dangerous situation and you don't want to go out without finally telling him how you feel. He feels the same and asks you out.

Word Count: 813

Masterlist here!

***************

König was a real gentle giant; it was no secret. Or well not to you at least. Being part of KorTac for a while now, you’ve gotten to know the Austrian military man over the time you’ve spent together. You were very intimidated by him at first, both because of his height and his build. Anyone would be if they saw a ripped 6’10 man in uniform with a hood covering his entire face and only his eyes able to stare down into your soul.

He was very timid with you at first as well due to his social anxiety, poor boy doesn’t have those confident friend-making skills. Long story short, you two were both afraid of talking to each other. You were scared of him, and he was scared of you. Though, you two were once paired together and had to look after each other. You’d finally built up the courage to crack a joke about the situation you were found yourself in, and then you two slowly started chatting both in and outside of missions.

He was charmed by your outgoing nature by the time you two were regularly talking, and he’d become attached. Super attached. You'd often be the one talking and he'd be the one doing the listening. But he didn't complain. He couldn't complain. He loved, loved, LOVED hearing you talk, finding the biggest comfort in your voice.

This wasn’t to say you hadn’t grown a fond of him either, realising how you two clicked instantly, you knew you’ve made a lifelong friend (eventual boyfriend, and maybe even husband, who knows?). If you two were on missions together, he'd never let you out if his sight. And if you weren’t on missions, you two would be inseparable anyway, always together, to the point of even creating little pet names for each other; him calling you Mous, and you calling him Bear. You two slowly started building those strong feelings for each other but neither of you wanted to admit it, valuing you guys’ friendship (and jobs) too high to lose.

You finally mustered up the courage to tell him you like him in a life or death situation on one of your missions. Finding yourselves in immediate danger, you didn't want to go out without telling him.

“I like you. A lot. As a crush.” You would whisper out, not knowing if it’s like last time you two will ever see each other again.

“… scheiße…” he’d reply to you in a low growl, causing your stomach to drop as you instantly figured he didn't feel the same. Though in reality, his gears were turning and he was preparing himself to grab you by the waist and sprint to safety with you in his arms.

The moment you two were back at safety, the adrenaline slowly wearing off, he asked you,

“Do you really, (Y/N)?” And you’d nod, looking down and feeling ashamed for developing such a crush on technically a co-workers. It was at that time when you’d felt the most vulnerable in your entire life as the beast of a man stood above you, his dark eyes looking straight down at you.

He thought his heart would beat out of his chest, taking his gloved hand and placing a finger under your chin to make you look up at him. Of course you two were both nervous out of your mind. Your eyes scattered as your knees went a little weak from that gesture alone before your eyes finally fixed themselves onto König's. You could now tell by the little squint in his eyes was that he was smiling widely under the hood. And by pulling it just enough to reveal his lips, he gained that little burst of confidence to lean down and place a small kiss onto your lips. All the worries and nerves calmed themselves as your lips moved in unison.

He was always scared to touch you, knowing how small and fragile you are compared to him. He'd slapped you on the back once after a successful mission like he would with the other boys. The difference is that they have that butt load of extra muscle mass to keep them grounded. The boys were massive, you were not. The 'harmless' slap caused you to jolt forward, almost losing your balance and giving him the biggest scare of his life. After that, he'd refuse to ever lay a hand on you, afraid of his own strength and hurting you any further. Only in specific situations would he ever touch you. This was one of those situations.

Pulling away from the kiss, König lets out a shy giggle as the burst of confidence in him slowly flying away and going back to his more timid, shy self.

"So, uh.. you free after we get back day after tomorrow, Mous?"

Yes. Yes, you were.

***************

Hello there. Sorry this was an impulse post I whipped up in like 15 minutes. This is not proof read so please ignore any grammar or spelling mistakes.

[arkarti]

I'm sorry in your last Willry post...the..the hair grab???? HENRY GRABBING WILLIAM'S HAIR, LIKE THAT???? Dead. You have killed me off. Congratulations, the Fazbear franchise dies here because you keep killing off those poor restaurant workers with their hot bosses.

yes, the hair grab was very important to me 😳 jkahgjk glad u like it

help, that is the funniest way to die tho. rip in peace anon 😔