#you can’t trust none of these bitches!

[cloveroctobers]

Dear Suresh, Kat, Dana, Gaby and everybody in the villa that got something to say about the dead relationship between MC and Suresh:

[drunkeddiediaz]

I’m so glad I’m not in the fandom like that because what do you mean people are having real arguments about who’s good and who’s bad BFFR😂THEY ARE NOT EVEN HUMANS. Sit down and enjoy the mess please!

[devil-in-hiding]

Okay but Virgin!Reader who is absolutely terrified of intimacy. It’s not a lack of knowledge on the subject; she’s knows more about it than a retired pornstar. But she just can’t handle the thought of giving herself away, especially to someone she doesn’t know or feels like she can’t trust! Back where she comes from, trust is a privilege and respect is a must. But what happens when she meets brutal, gruff, and one hundred and ten percent dangerous Simon Riley, who’s way more experienced and has a history of fucking just to let off some steam.

Ughhhhh 😵‍💫

Simon is your neighbor. Your first interaction is when he almost knocks you over in the hall, only offering a grunt and cold glare before slamming his apartment door shut.

It remains that way for a year or so, the rare times you do see him home. Nothing is ever said, but he acknowledges you with a grunt, and you always return a small nod of greeting. He’s cold and gruff, but every time he gets home from wherever he goes, you have to hole up in the living room to escape the moans and his headboard banging into your wall. the following mornings you can hardly look him in the eye as he stares at you rushing towards the stairs.

It’s not until after a particularly bad date, who is stubbornly trying to invite himself into your apartment, that Simon actually speaks.

“Jake please, I had a nice time but I have to get up early for work.” You protest, trying to block your doorway and the guy scoffs. “C’mon, you gonna leave me hangin like that?” He frowns, trying to shoulder past you.

“I would like you to leave now.”

“Listen here you little bitch, I’ve had to put up with staring at that rack all night, the least you can do is-“

“Think the lady told you to get the fuck out mate.” A deep voice growls, and the two of you jump, and your eyes widen at seeing Simon there, and there’s a dark look in his eyes as he stares down your ‘date’

“Hey man, this is none of you-“

“Considering this nice woman is my neighbor, I’m making it my fucking business.” He states before quite literally lifting Jake by the scruff of his neck and throwing him out into the hallway. “I see you bothering her again and I’ll kick your sorry ass up and down this god damn complex you got that?”

Jake is gone before Simon is done talking. You hear him take a deep breath, shoulders relaxing before he turns to face you, and you’re surprised by the concern showing in his eyes.

“That fuckhead didn’t hurt you, did he?” He asks, and you’re shocked this man’s voice can be so soft. You’re frozen, just staring at him before you find your voice.

“N-no, no I’m okay, he was just trying to shoulder past me.” You stutter out, nervously playing with your fingers. Your heart stops when one of his large hands reaches up, gently brushing your hair away from your face.

“Sorry it took me so long, couldn’t tell if it was you I was hearing.” He admits, and your heart flutters. He knows your voice?

He talks to you more after that, helping you with groceries when your hands are full, stopping by to ask if you’d watch his apartment while he’s away on deployment. You start to look forward to the two knocks on your door, finding Simon waiting for you, crinkles around his eyes letting you know he’s smiling at you.

But the women still come, along with your nights camped out in the living room, you’re heart just a bit heavier every time.

(might turn this into something)

[dumplingsjinson]

List of random dialogue prompts (pt. 3)

“Truth be told? I miss the times — the me — before I fell in love with you.” 

“You know, I can see myself in, on top of, or under you. What do you say?” “I can see you buried six feet under my very feet if you don’t stop joking about this shit with me.” 

“Was there a point when you fell out of love with me?” “There was a point when I fell in love with you, but never out.”

“When did you fall out of love with me?” “That’s the thing: I never fell out of love with you. You’re the one who fell out of love with me.”

“Right person, wrong time… What if this is the right time? We’re just the wrong people for each other.”

“You have me wrapped around your fingers. Crazy part is, I don’t mind it.” 

“Don’t forget this: I made you. I can easily break you if I wanted to.” 

“I shared pieces of me, with so many people, and none of them kept those pieces safe, and I don’t know if I can risk that with you because it would devastate me if you turn out to be the same as them all. I would be completely destroyed.” 

“Don’t give me that look.”

“You okay?” “No. I need hugs. From you. I need you to hug me.” 

“I just wanna fucking get over you so I can be okay again.” 

“Stop trying to remind me that you’re still in my life. I’m trying to not think about you, for God’s sake.”

“I wanna kiss you so badly right now but we’re in public and I know you hate public display of affection—“ “I’ll allow you to do it this time.” “Wait… Really?” 

“I make shitty decisions and you’re a testament to that matter.”

“I have things to do, and most of them include me trying not to think about you.”

“I’ve never cried because of someone, you know? I didn’t have anyone to cry over. You’re the first, and you’ll also be the last, or so God help me through this embarrassment.” 

“Breaking up with me does not mean you had to kick me off your Spotify playlist, you know? Because damn. As much as I’m upset, your list had some bangers.” 

“You don’t get to do decide my feelings for you.” 

“I’m not bitchless, you fucking dickhead. Take that back!” 

“Every little thing reminds me of you, which sucks because you’re not in my life anymore.”

“It’s kinda weird not seeing your name on my phone when I wake up. It’s gonna take me some time to get used to this.”

“I think I knew this wasn’t going to last when I realised it’s not that I trust you. It’s that I don’t care what you do, and who you might be fucking around with.”

“One text from you has me happier than a child whose mother bought them their favourite candy. It’s not okay.” 

“I don’t share my Spotify playlist with just anyone. It’s like a secret love language of mine, reserved for those I want to let in. You’re one of them, yet you’re here thinking I don’t feel the same way about you?”

“I dunno, I just… Kinda fell for you.”

“You’re the reason why I fell in love with you. You, as a whole.” 

“There are some songs that I can’t listen to anymore, because they remind me of you; of all the times we’ve had together. And it sucks because some of them are great songs. And you fucking ruined them, you asshole.”

“I’m tired of acting like I don’t care, because I do. I fucking do, and that’s what makes this even worse.” 

“One thing you should know about me is that I suck at letting go.”

“So you’re telling me I’m supposed to sit here and give a fuck? You couldn’t pay me enough to do that. I have places to be and things to do.” 

“You need to stop being such a dramatic bitch.” “It’s the only way I can entertain myself, okay? Now piss off and leave me be.” 

“Maybe I shouldn’t have let you go.”

“You deserve someone better than me—” “You don’t get to decide that for me.”

“You ever think about how good we could have been together?” “Yeah. I think about it all the time, and then I remember how badly you fumbled. So yeah, good job.”

“You’re blushing.” “I’m not.” “…Then I guess I’ll have to give you something to blush over.”

“I lost myself while trying to find the good in you.”

“I think it’s comforting that they’re somewhere out there… Even if we never speak again, you know? They were a part of my life, even if it was only for a little while. They made me feel good, even if it was only for a short amount of time.” 

“Remember when you said you’d catch me when I fell? Well, you’re a fucking liar. Figuratively and literally. Now I’m hospitalised and also emotionally scarred. I hope you’re fucking happy about that.” 

“If we break up, I’d look for you in other people and be reminded that they are not you, and that I’d never find someone like you again. And… I don’t think I can bear the thought of that.”

“I give you permission to break my heart.” “And I give you permission to end me if I ever do break your heart.” 

“I have things to do—“ “And I’m one of them.”

“You’re only saying sorry because you want to make yourself feel better, so you can go shove that sweet apology up your ass because it doesn’t mean shit. I hope you continue to feel like shit over what you did, because I’m never forgiving you.”

“I had expectations for someone I knew couldn’t meet those expectations, so that’s my fault for expecting anything from you at all.”

“You? Breaking my heart? It’s funny how you think you even have that power over me.”

“You were like a routine that I loved and it felt… comfortable. But I guess that’s not the case anymore.” 

“You fell in love with the idea of someone that wasn’t even real. You fell in love with your own projections. How are you so foolish to think that it would have worked out?”

“I’m fine. Of course I’m fine.” “Everything about this interaction is telling me you’re not fine — not even close.”

“The idea of us was perfect. Blame me for thinking it would turn out into something good and as fantastical as what I made it out to be in my head.”

“Because no matter what I do, I can’t stop thinking about you and it’s about to drive me to the very brink of insanity, so if you’ll excuse me for not wanting to be near you, that would great.”

“I would not be who I am today if not for you.” 

(pt 1.) | (pt. 2)

[onelittlespiral]

I’ve been looking for a fraternity to join at my new college, but none of them have really been letting me in. The only one left seems to be full of horny jocks that are dumber than a bag of bricks. Think you could help me… fit in?

FML: In

As you laid it all out in front of your friend, your plans, your goals, your desires, he just kind of shook his head in disbelief:

“I know that I’ve only known you for a few weeks, but damn that’s disappointing.”

“What’s so wrong about wanting to pledge?” you replied, “It would just make getting connected the university so much easier. Plus, the parties are legendary.”

“No I get it,” he scowled, “but really? Pi Kappa Epsilon?”

“Listen, they weren’t my first choice either. I would have preferred a group a little less… dim.” I knew he wouldn’t leave it there.

“Dim? Dim still implies some light on upstairs. You can just call them what they are: brainless frat bros. They think with their dicks and muscle their way through academics. I can’t believe you’re asking me to use my power for this.” He began walking towards the door.

I called after, “Look, I’ve seen you do crazier shit than this. You turned the guy upstairs into a dog for a week.”

He stopped in the door frame for a minute to chuckle, “If he was going to call the RA a bitch he may as well get first hand experience.”

“Please dude.” I stared at him.

After a moment he relented, “Fine. But are you sure you want this? You want to change for this? A frat?”

“Yes. And I promise I’ll get you into any party you want!”

“Fine. Give me a bit. But remember, you asked for it.”

He returned in a bit and tossed me a necklace from across the room, “Here’s your frat solution. Wear this to your next thing with them at their house.”

You inspected it. It looked like a basic chain necklace like you had seen other guys wear around “And do what? What does it do?”

He rolled his eyes, “And do nothing. It will help you fit into the frat, I promise.”

“No magic words or anything?” I asked.

He grinned, “Oh come on, think of me as better than needing all that crap. Now put it on so you don’t lose it.”

It fits well around your neck, “I’m headed over there tonight, I think it is the last event before they drop everyone. You sure this will work?”

“Trust me,” he says, “You want in the frat? You will be in the frat.”

When you arrive at the frat house, you do feel the necklace almost pulling you inside. It feels warm against your chest as you wander around, talking with some brothers and checking in with your fellow pledges. You get a sense of magnetism from it, like the necklace is pulling the frat house around it towards you. As the party kicks into gear, you focus less on the chain and more on socializing. But whatever it’s effect, it seems to be working. Brothers and other pledges are seeming to stumble over themselves trying to talk with you. Even the pledge master gives a knowing glance and tilts his head in approval. In a little under two hours, you begin to feel more at home in the house, more comfortable in the crowd. Maybe for the first time you feel a sense of brotherhood. So it is a shock when you step into the bathroom to take a piss and take a look in the mirror.

You don’t recognize the face that stared back. You blinked in confusion, assuming you had too much to drink. But no. The stranger in the mirror stared back into your eyes, copying your every move as you tilted your head and inspected your face in awe. The trance broke as you glanced down and saw the truth. Your polo shirt stretched against your chest as two pectorals firmly pushed out, flexing with each breath. Your pants had grown tight around my quads, now a good few inches short. They hugged your ass so tightly you were surprised they hadn’t ripped. Tattoos flowed down your arms, newly ripped and well toned. You noticed for the first time the power you felt coursing through your veins. You could almost feel your skin taut against your muscles as they slowly swelled. You pulled your top off to get a better look at the action.

‘Damn I look good’ you think as you admire the new cum gutters and still developing 6-pack. You try out a few poses in the mirror, just to see the muscles move. The necklace is no joke. No way PKE would drop you now, you looked like you fit right in. But, at the same time, you figured it may be time to get the necklace off. You didn’t want to change too much, and no telling how far it would go. You go for the back of your neck and and start to fiddle with the clasp when the necklace suddenly starts to warm up.

You feel the odd magnetism is no longer subtle. It feels as though the necklace is pulling against the frat house you, drawing it’s very essence towards you. At the same time, the growth within your body stops as the necklace channels all its energy towards your head. The sudden spike hits like a migraine, as you let go of the necklace and go to hold your temples. The necklace wants to finish its work. Your senses are sharpened to a point, as you feel the heat of the bros downstairs, taste cheap beer and seltzers, hear every footstep, see every muscle and bulge, and smell 100 horny men all at once. You feel the pure energy of the fraternity pull through your body as it shapes you. Beneath the pressure, your mind buckles as false memories push their way in. Memories of watching college football on TV. Working out during the summer to become a fucking stud. Playing the field as soon as you got to college. Meeting up with some brothers to get a foot in the door. Getting called a fuckboi for the first time on Tinder. Wearing it like a badge of pride.

Your brain throbbed as the energy reshaped your memories and personality, but your balls churned as it began to adjust your libido. They ached as they swelled to the size of golf balls. Your cock was rigid at attention as you grabbed it with both meaty hands and started to pump. Your body writhed as every stroke only makes the pleasure more intense. You are soon hot with the effort. An aura of testosterone and sweat formed around you as a frat funk sets in deep: a mixture of booze, yesterday’s workout, and cheap cologne. The smell only drives you more wild, and you start to feel your brain short circuit. Your mind, consumed by pleasure, gave into the pressure and lost any remaining will to resist. The necklace pulsed in time with your throbbing cock as it buried the old you. As you reached climax, you knew there was no going back. As you shot your load across the room, a new you was released. A dumb, horny frat bro ready to pledge PKE.

And then the door behind you opened.

The pledge master, apparently worried by how long you had been in here, walked in on your afterglow as you tucked your cock back into your pants.

“Hey man, you okay?” he asked before recoiling a step. You watched as he smelled your rank funk and nearly gagged. You took a step closer.

“Yeah bro, better than ever. What about you? You look like you’re about to vomit.” you said, leaning in a bit closer. You flex your muscles and let your pit stench join the lingering cloud. You feel yourself start to harden again as he tried not to react.

“Bro, you are fucking rank. You smell like a… like a-”

“Like a frat house should?” you taunted. He had stopped recoiling and seemed now to be fighting a different urge.

“I don’t know bro, you should get- get that looked at.”

His eyes were focused on your muscles as you slowly flexed them rhythmically to the music downstairs. I felt the necklace pulling him closer as he fought the urges he is having. Fuck, you remembered that feeling, that pull towards desire. You knew how to help him out though. You grabbed the back of his head and pulled his lips to your pecs. As his lips connected with your flesh and tasted the beads of sweat that rolled down your chest, he wrapped his arms around you and began worshiping your muscles. As he kissed and licked every inch of your chest and washboard abs, he gently rubbed against your rigid cock. It wasn’t long before he was licking at the fabric separating his mouth from his prize. But as he reached for the elastic band around your waist, you grabbed his hair and pulled him up.

Your mind reveled in in the power you held in your hands and the pleasure your new frat bro could cause with his mouth. But you only had one thing left on you mind:

“I wanna be in the frat bro.” You said.

He mumbled as his mouth still searched for your flesh, “Yeah man, sure thing. I’ll make it happen. You can be a frat bro. Just please let me suck on your-“

“No,” you boomed. You pulled him out of the bathroom and into the nearest bedroom, locking the door behind you. You grabbed his ass as he grew limp in your hands, “I want to be in the frat bro.” You slip your hand beneath his gym shorts and begin slowly finger fucking his tight, straight hole.

He understood his place as he slipped off his shorts and underwear, leaving his cheeks on full display.

He moaned like he was in heat, “Yeah bro. Please. I would be so honored.”

You bent him over and spat in his quivering hole before you pressed your cock against him. You didn’t wait for him to relax as you slammed your cock as deep as you could and watched him yelp in surprise. As you slowly sped up and heard him start to moan, you felt the necklace once again start to warm against my chest as its power flowed through your cock and into the bro beneath you. He too began to sweat with the funk of the frat as was remade in its image under your guidance. He was going to become just as unified with PKE as you were.

[aakeysmash]

Roommate or boss?

part 2, part 3, part 4

Pairing: f!reader x Katsuki Bakugou.

Warnings: none, really. AND THEY WERE POSSIBLE ROOMMATES, MAYBE?

Context: 3k words. Reader is a barista and she only meets Bakugo at the end of this </3. He’s her boss but she doesn’t know. I don’t delve into this tho, just so you know. They’re both 22.

A/N: never thought I’d write a slow burn but I HATE not giving context. This is just me yapping with zero grammar context whatsoever. The reader is super oc in this one, but all the girl names I thought about were UGLY. Let me know what you think about it!

“No.”

“Come onnnn it’s gonna be just this one time” pleads your best friend from the other end of the phone.

“Ochaco, you know I hate when you pull this shit” you reply, while putting your jacket on.

“I knowww, but listen, me and the cute guy have had NO time for ourselves lately and-“

“And you’re leaving me doing this assignment with who knows who? We’re always partners for physics, you know I can’t do it all alone and you can’t phrase your deductions to save your life. We complete each other. You’re my soulmate. Why are you leaving me for a guy?” you whine, while closing the door of your apartment and walking towards your car.

“It’s gonna be just this one time, I promise! It’s not like we’re gonna fail. I think. I hope…” she mumbles.

You sigh. “If we do fail, you’re getting your ass beaten, I am so for real” you concede after thinking about it. You start your car and put your phone on speaker.

“BABEEE I love youuuu! You know you’re the only one for me! I promise to finally tell you all the details on Saturday” she squeals.

You wince. “Nah, I can’t this Saturday. I have to work, manager is on vacay. Maybe Sunday?” you said, knowing she will start rambling.

“Y/N just leave that place, they don’t even value you as a person, let alone as a worker. Plus, your manager is a bitch” Ochaco says sternly. “I still haven’t got over the fact she makes you work double shifts just because she wants to be in Bali with her new stupid tomboy. Who, by the way, cheats on her. You said so yourself, and I heard him and your colleague going at it that one time I came to visit you last week -not Momo, bless her heart, how is she by the way?- oh and he steals her money. And-“

“I need the money, and I do love to make coffees for the nice old ladies that tip me” you interrupt your more-than-protective best friend, knowing that she could go on complaining for hours if you didn’t stop her. “Also, I just got to the cafe and I’m already running late. I’ll text you when I get off, okay? Love you”.

“Yeah yeah. Don’t overwork yourself too much, love you” and you hang up.

You and Ochaco have been friends since you were babies. Your parents were neighbours back in your hometown, and your moms coincidentally got pregnant in a span of 2 months apart from each other. You have been attached to the hip all of your school years, and fortunately you have been accepted at the same campus at university. You moved to different apartments because you wanted to be independent, but you are still living pretty near each other. You are enrolled in literature, while Ochaco has a passion for astronomy; you had chosen physics as a bonus class for some extra credits since Ochaco said it would be easy and you trusted her, but she didn’t take into consideration that you failed math throughout all of high school, and she had to save your ass multiple times in the past. You’ll never forget her face when she got an 86% on one of the graded tests she did for you: she was so disappointed she made you ask the professor to redo the test, which you barely knew the basics of. She got 100%, and the professor congratulated you (her) for being such an overachiever. You never felt more ashamed of yourself and proud of your best friend at the same time. On the other hand, she made you do her English essays on a monthly basis, so she really wasn’t in the place to complain about doing all the dirty work for you.

You had partnered up with her since she was a genius, but she met this “cute guy” a month ago and was head over heels for him. She still hasn’t said his name to you, all you know is that he is a part of the physics course and he apparently just stole your assignment partner.

You sigh inwardly. Sometimes you wished love could come to you as easily as it comes to Ochaco. She is a lover girl at heart, nicer than anybody could ever hope to be, but she sure could bite if she had to. She has been there for some of the worst moments of your life, and you have done the same for her. You really didn’t know what you would do without her. Maybe you should get her an apology pastry from the cafe’s leftovers to make up for the last two missed Saturdays (“they’re for the girls!” she said, and you meticulously met up every week up until you had gotten a job).

You’re a bit distracted by thinking about her when you get into the place you work at. It’s a cute cafe, a little bit too orange for your taste, but it’s cozy enough to make work pleasurable. Plus, it’s 5 minutes from your apartment (15 if you walk, but you are lazy). They pay on time, the coffee is good and the clientele isn’t too bad. If it wasn’t for-

“You’re 32 seconds late. You’re getting a formal complaint this time” says your manager, waiting for you with her arms crossed.

“Put that on the note that says I worked 8 extra hours a week for the last 5 months. Hello to you too, weren’t you supposed to be in the Philippines or whatever by now?” you say sickening sweet, with the fakest smile you can muster, while you pass next to her to get to the room behind the register.

“Shut your smart mouth up before I get you fired!” she almost screams. Some of the people at the table near her look at her like she’s crazy before going back to their cappuccino.

“My oh my miss Utsushimi, it’s not nice to use that tone before the rush hour” you reply, giving an apologetic look at your regulars next to her.

“Mpfh, whatever. Close up this place when you’re done, the boss will probably be in to ask you for the keys at the end of your shift. I’ll be MIA for the next two weeks, bye” she says to you. Then she turns around and smiles sweetly at the clients who previously looked at her with distaste and lies “pregnancy hormones I hope, me and my man are trying for a baby, I’m sorry for scaring you!”. You know damn well she had an IUD appointment last week, because she made you work instead of working herself. Fake bitch.

Without saying anything else, she leaves the place.

“I hate her ass so much”, says someone next to you.

You snicker. “Who doesn’t, Momo?” you face her with a genuine smile.

“Never leave me alone with her ever again, you know I can’t survive this place without you, work wifey” she kisses your cheek fast, before going back to making coffee for a client at the register.

“Ochaco will be hearing about this and she’ll slap you” you laugh heartily.

“I love her too, she’s my work wifey’s wifey, so she’s basically my wifey” she winks at you.

After a few more laughs here and there, you both go back to work like usual.

A couple of hours pass and it’s closing time. Momo waves you goodbye, clocking out. “I’m so tired I could sleep on the floor right now” she whines.

“Yeah, how about no. Let’s go, babe. We don’t want to drag Y/N’s time” says her boyfriend, Shoto, who shoots you a nod of acknowledgement before placing a hand on her lower back and escorting her out of the cafe. “I remember suffering at closing times, let’s leave her be and go home” he nudges your colleague, smiling down at her. He has been inside the cafe a lot in the years you’ve worked here, sometimes picking Momo up. Momo says he was one of the best bartenders the cafe ever had, but he found a job that payed him more and he decided to leave. You couldn’t blame him.

“See you soon, you two lovebirds!” you reply, waving a hand of your own.

Now all alone since even the waiters have gone home, you clean up the counter before packing up the pastry for Ochaco.

“Damn, I have to wait for the boss to give him the keys” you remember, rubbing your face.

You wait 45 minutes before a redhead makes his way into the cafe. He seems busy on the phone with someone.

“I’m here, let me just get- fuck no I don’t wanna talk to Camie about it, Baku- no, wait- fire? Are you going to take her place and finally come down here like the boss you are? Yes, I know- what? And where would we- what do I have to do with all of this? No, I’m going home- fuck, he hung up” the man sighs, before turning his body towards you.

“Sorry to have kept you waiting, not really manly from me” he smiles, looking sorry.

“Oh don’t worry about it!” your smile was really stretched, and you think he notices, because he says “sorry” again. “The manager said to give you the keys. So you’re the boss?” you say politely, stretching your hand with the keys towards him.

You’ve seen him multiple times, he’s a regular. He always gets the same order (one black coffee and one hot chocolate with extra cinnamon), and he always tips you and Momo well. Today he seems distressed.

“I wouldn’t wish to be the boss, to be fair. You could say I’m his right hand. Where’s Camie? Boss needs to talk to her in private before next week comes” he sighs.

“She said she’ll be gone for two weeks” you reply, confused.

“And who said she could do that?” Kirishima, you think that’s his name since you’ve written it on his order just yesterday, looks at you in disbelief. You shrug. “I don’t ask. The less I know about her, the better I feel about working here”. You start to pack your things up, before going towards the door with the man following behind you closely.

“This is nuts. I hate doing job interviews” he mumbles fast, turning the key in the lock. You raise an eyebrow, what is he even talking about?

“Do you live near? If not, I could give you a ride. I’d hate losing the only barista who makes boss man’s drink good enough to not make him pissy” he says, while pointing to his car.

You laugh. “It’s just a hot chocolate. Tell him he should try it with a few drops of hot sauce in it. Sounds disgusting but it’s actually pretty good. Also don’t worry, I live just down the street”. He nods and you wave each other goodbye.

“It does sound horrible. Thanks again for waiting, see you tomorrow for the same exact order I always make” he grins, then gets in his car and drives away, not after seeing you get in your car as well.

Once at home you call Ochaco, who’s “been worried sick, you never get home this late”.

“Y/N you seriously need a roommate. Did you even eat?” she reprimands.

You sigh. “I have to meet someone tomorrow. But you know, girls tend to look at you weirdly when you say you need them to know how to cook. They feel like you’re looking for a maid. Like, I can’t eat sandwiches every day like I did with the last roommate I had” you explain while opening your fridge. Sausages and smashed potatoes from yesterday will do the job for today.

“The psycho who thought vegetables made her look weak? Freak” you hear your best friend snicker. “At what time are they coming over?”

You groan and say “8 am. It’s a guy this time. Who wakes up before 8 am at uni? He’s already lost 2 points for this” while gulping down your food.

Ochaco’s snicker is now a full laugh. “People who have their lives together, maybe? But pay attention, males scare me” she replies quieting down.

“Yeah yeah. I’m gonna sleep now, text me the deets for Sunday, okay?” you clean your plate and go to the bathroom to wash your teeth.

“Will doooo. Good night, babe” she smooches on the mic before hanging up.

After making sure you locked your apartment door, you go to your bed, where you manage to fall asleep in thirty seconds.

The next morning you’re brutally awakened by the sound of your doorbell. You look at your phone screen: 7:42 am.

“Who the fuck is it now?” you grumble, before going down the stairs and looking through your peephole.

“Shitty hair I swear if this takes me more than 10 minutes… she hasn’t even opened the door. Yeah, she said 8 am, who cares if I’m early? I AM NOT the only one awake on a Saturday morning. Y’all are just lazy fucks” a blonde rudely says into his phone. You can hear him talking loudly from behind the door. You widen your eyes, before screaming “coming! Give me 5 minutes!” and rushing towards your bathroom to make yourself presentable. “Fuck, I forgot about the roommate appointment” you whine, while putting on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. At least they are clean.

You open the door to find a broad man staring at you menacingly. He’s kinda tall, kinda (really) fit, kinda underdressed for the winter. Kinda hot, too.

“Hi, how can I help you?” you offer him the nicest smile your still sleepy mind can muster.

He looks you up and down, before focusing on your face and levelling you with an indifferent look.

“You must be Y/N. I’m Katsuki Bakugo, we had to meet at 8 am for the spare room offer. I've been here for 15 minutes” he gruffly declares.

You add “rude” to your list of “kinda”. You don’t like his tone. -1 point.

“Yeah, and it’s 7:48” you bite back, your smile faltering while shaking his outstretched hand. He’s definitely going to the gym with the callouses he has.

“Come in, I’ll let you see what you’re getting yourself into”, you say, opening your door more.

You live in a nice apartment, you think. There’s a nice kitchen with a nice island that also serves as a table in front of it, a blueish couch in front of the tv, and a couple of steps that bring you to a corridor with three doors: your room, the spare one and the bathroom.

You describe everything while he stays in absolute silence next to you. It makes you feel uneasy. -1 point.

You just finished showing him the bathroom and are ready to tell him you don’t think he’s a good suitor when he finally speaks up.

“And how much do you pay for this shit?” he asks. Nice voice, you think. Gravelly and rough enough to not sound annoyingly forced. +1 point.

“500 a month” you reply, while returning to the kitchen.

“Your shower needs some work done, it leaks. Also, mold is starting to show on the bathroom ceiling, might wanna check on that. Your oven looks unusable in the condition it’s in. Small tv. At least you’re clean from what I've seen” he begins to say.

You frown and turn to look at him. Did this bitch talk for the first time in 15 minutes only to complain?

“Do you even know how to cook with said oven?” you say, ignoring everything else he just said, and giving him a nasty look.

He tsks. “Yes. Is this your way of asking me to cook you fucking breakfast? I don’t eat with lazy people who get out of bed at 11 am” he makes sure to say.

You scoff. Men really do find the audacity to say stuff like this nowadays? It seems like you've been out of the loop for too much.

“You showed up early. It’s a sign of disrespect, you know? Also no, I know how to fix myself something. I just don’t want you to burn my kitchen down to a crisp and smell takeout whenever I get home” you say in the rudest way you find possible.

He smirks before saying “might wanna check on that fucking attitude of yours too before I poison your food”, tapping your shoulder to get you out of the way and take out some pans. You showed him where to find them earlier on.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you say in disbelief. “This is still my kitchen. Get out”.

He rolls his eyes. “I’m making you fucking breakfast to say sorry for interrupting your princess sleep. Just make coffee while I come up with something. If you know how to make it, that is” he doesn’t even look at you while getting eggs, milk and bread out of the fridge.

You’re baffled. He’s making himself at home when you didn’t even say he was accepted.

“Wait, you’re still not-“

“I'll give you the money at the start of every month. I’ll paint the walls of the room, I hate that fucking green, but painters are scammers so I’m doing it myself. I’m clean, I’ll just need a spare key in a matter of days to take my shit here. I’ll keep myself in my room if you keep yourself in yours. Any further requests?” he interrupts you, assembling his french toasts on the pan.

You’re even more stunned. But you’ve always been quick with your thoughts, so you come up with something.

“I’ll say yes if those french toasts are good. If they’re not, your ass is out” you say, still not looking at him, while making coffee.

“Might say yes if you know how to make a hot chocolate from scratch instead of the poor coffee that machine will make” he watches you from the corner of his eye. You scoff, you’re a barista nonetheless: who does he think he’s talking to? Meanwhile, he could swear he knew you from somewhere.

“Deal”.

“Deal”.

Neither to say, the french toasts were “not that bad” and your hot chocolate was “barely fucking acceptable”.

[spngi]

My tears ricochet | mafia!carlos sainz jr x reader

Prologue | part 1 | part 2 | Part 3| Part 4

part 5

summary: Mr. and Mrs. Sainz lived in a dream for many years, now everything is falling apart and they need to deal with their feelings

warnings: Grammar mistakes, mentions of violence, Carlos is an idiot, mentions of cheating, sexual content, angst.

---

It’s the first morning I truly wake up happy after a long time. I feel ready for a new beginning when I wake up embraced by Carlos’s body. It’s perfect to share the little things with him, his presence filling me with joy.

I watch him through the door; he’s on the phone now, and Paco is jumping on his legs, begging for attention.

We were having coffee outside, enjoying each other’s company, when his phone rang. Things are not like they used to be; we still have a long way to go to regain each other’s trust, but we are happy with the small steps we are taking.

The conversation my husband is having doesn’t seem good. He looks tense, defensive, and even without hearing his conversation, I can tell it’s a serious matter. He is standing in the middle of the room, phone in hand, head down, his abdomen bare, and wearing sweatpants. Every domestic scene warms my heart more, like him making pancakes for breakfast earlier or the large bouquet of peonies that miraculously appeared this morning.

I knew that just these gestures wouldn’t erase the pain Carlos and I had caused each other, but they were a good way to start this new journey.

I see him hang up the phone in a single, explosive gesture. He takes a breath while putting the device in his pocket.

“What’s your problem?” His voice echoes coldly in the room. I don’t understand who he is referring to or why he’s looking at me that way.

“What are you talking about?” I ask him, still confused as I approach his tense figure. The contrast with the relaxed figure he had before the phone call is clear. “What happened?”

“I tell you I love Martina, and you try to kill her? Is this how you want to move forward?” He explodes, his tone loud and desperate.

“What are you talking about? You think I tried to kill that girl? Are you out of your mind?” I ask him, my words stinging. Carlos looks at me as if I were a monster, and it hurts to be his first suspect. It hurts to know he thinks so poorly of me.

“What a great coincidence, isn’t it? I tell you how I feel about her, and today someone hits her car and flees.” He points at me as if he’s about to warn me. “You’re lucky she’s still alive.”

“Does it not occur to you that it could have been just a drunk idiot? Do you think so poorly of me that you believe I’d do something like that?” I exclaim, anger exploding from my body. That bitch had to ruin my life without me even doing anything to her.

“You lost the benefit of the doubt when you decided to killed those men.”

A car accident? I wouldn’t even have thought of that, and I had thought of many ways to get rid of the girl, but none involving her death—only involving putting a package with absurd amounts of drugs in her car and house, along with a call to the police.

Carlos’s words drive me crazy. I feel insane for hearing them because it can’t be true. His eyes look at me with disgust, as if I were a murderer.

“I don’t know how serious the accident was, but if I were you, I’d pray for her to be okay. It would prevent you from finally becoming a monster,” he says, and Paco runs away scared by the shouting.

I don’t think much after what I hear; my body is overtaken by rage, and I can only remember all the times Charles taught me to aim and shoot. That’s what I think about when I grab the closest object to me, a crystal vase, and throw it at Carlos.

The crystal shatters upon hitting the top of his head in small pieces. The noise is loud, and the whole house goes on alert before returning to its routine upon seeing the scene.

“Are you crazy?” He yells in shock, with glass shards all over the place, including in his hair, and small drops of blood running down his forehead.

“Maybe, but I’m not a murderer,” I say through clenched teeth. “Believe me, if I wanted her dead, there wouldn’t be any pieces of the car left to tell the tale, but I would never dirty my hands with someone as insignificant as her.”

The room turns into a chaos of shouting and arguing. Even though I love Carlos, I’m almost ready to throw another vase at him. I decide to stop arguing with him; it wouldn’t help when he’s so blinded by believing I would do such a thing. I turn around, leaving him to argue alone, and head back outside.

“You should leave, Carlos… I can’t stand looking at your face right now,” I say finally before leaving. “And don’t you dare ask anyone to clean up the mess you made,” I point to the floor and walk out.

I sit in a chair, not allowing myself to cry this time. In fact, I can’t even remember the last time I spent a day without crying, so I forbid myself from doing it today! The scene that just occurred felt like it nailed the final stake into our marriage. There was no more unity, no more fidelity, respect, or love.

I couldn’t love for both of us alone, not when it was destroying me. When it was already destroying me.

“Your foot is bleeding,” I hear a voice pull me out of my thoughts, and when I look up, I see Charles.

“Oh,” I have no reaction. I look down and see the small pool of blood forming underneath the injured foot I hadn’t noticed before. “I must have stepped on one of the glass shards. I’ll take care of it…”

I try to reassure him and spare him from my melancholic company.

“Let me take care of it for you; just wait here, please,” he smiles, looking tense, possibly having witnessed the situation.

Just as I didn’t notice him leave, I didn’t notice him come back, this time with a first aid kit in hand. He kneels in front of me and gently takes my left foot.

“I can do this, Charles. Thank you,” I thank him and try to get rid of his presence.

“No, no, I insist,” he smiles worriedly, his eyes on me. There’s something there I can’t decipher; it’s not pity, but definitely something shining.

He opens the significantly large first aid kit that is necessary when someone with a gunshot or knife wound shows up at the house from time to time.

“Do you need anesthetic?” he asks, laughing.

“Although I would love to be high right now, it won’t be necessary,” I say, and he laughs lightly.

He pulls the glass shard out in one precise, smooth movement, and I watch as he cleans the wound with cotton and alcohol.

“To save you the trouble of investigating the accident… I didn’t do it,” I say to Charles.

“I know,” he replies, not bothering to look up at me, appearing certain of his opinion. “And I think if Carlos had a bit more reason and faith in you, he’d know that.”

It’s funny to watch him work with such calm and gentleness on a simple injury, contrasting sharply with all the memories of when he taught me to shoot and defend myself months ago.

“I didn’t teach you to do a job halfway and to leave traces. I have faith that you were a good student.” He looks up and smiles. Charles is the same age as me, but the difference between us is apparent. He’s lived and witnessed many things to be where he is now and still tries to be as gentle as possible in my company.

“Thank you,” I say, watching him as he wraps my foot with a bandage. It’s large and silly for the size of the cut, but the gesture enchants me.

I let my eyes wander away, to the garden or beyond it, my thoughts drifting. I don’t want to cry, not for Carlos. Just thinking about his name makes me sick, and I wonder why I did all this. Why did I sacrifice so much of my life for him? Why did I fight so hard for this marriage when it was destroying me?

It’s ironic how life presents things to us. Throughout my life, I’ve always loved art, preferring romantic ideals and works that depicted routine and brought peace. Now my life would be painted in a dark and melancholic canvas.

“If you could choose to be anything, what would you be?” I ask Charles, who is still kneeling in front of me, his hand gently touching my injured foot.

“What do you mean?” His green eyes look confused.

“I would have my own art gallery, or rather, I think I would like to work in a museum…” I let my mind wander, to what I could be if I weren’t here.

“In which museum?” he asks.

“In Washington,” I reply without thinking. “I think there cuz my favorite art is there, a beautiful Monet. I would be the happiest person to see it every day,” I smile at the scene in my mind, a genuine smile. “And you?”

“I think I would be a Formula 1 driver,” he laughs. “My childhood dream was to drive the red car around the world.”

“In another universe, I’m sure we’re doing that,” I smile at him, laughing. It’s silly to think about it, but it helps me calm down. “Please sit down.”

He closes the first aid kit and sets it aside, then sits in the chair next to me. He seems awkward or even embarrassed to do so.

“I don’t want to get divorced, Charles,” I murmur, scratching my forehead. I thought I would have more strength for this, that I wouldn’t give up so easily.

“He will find out it wasn’t you eventually” he murmurs.

“The problem isn’t the accident, or even Carlos. He isn’t that desperate about the divorce, and if he were, he would file for litigation” I sigh. “She wants the divorce; I just took a while to realize it… Carlos getting divorced is just a red flag for all his business, and it will make his life much more difficult… I just don’t know if I can handle it anymore.”

“Y/n…” the man calls me, then says, “You are the strongest woman I have ever known. You’ve been through so much and endured it as if it were just another normal day at work. You handle all the problems better than anyone here among us. You could be Carlos, but he could never be you.”

It’s the first time in a long while that a man makes me cry with joy.

One more part! I hope you guys are enjoying it!

Leave your comments and opinions ❤️

[mamayan]

Hii can I request Gyomei x prostitute fem reader nsfw.....plsss

Gyomei Himejima x Fem! Reader

cw: NSFW • Darker Themes • Attempted murder (of reader) • Fem! Reader • prostitute reader • Fluff/Comfort • Size kink • Breeding kink • Sub/switch! Reader • Edging/Denial • Overstimulation • Oral (F)

“Namu Amida Butsu. Pitiful creature.” He doesn’t need vision to understand what was going on in the lively square of the red district tonight.

Normally a bubble of carnal desires and pleasure, many forgot the festering underbelly of this part of the city. He’s on a mission, needs to focus and do his job, but something keeps stopping him.

Possibly the kakushi by his side crying softly, pitying the poor soul on a trial meant to convict whether the offending party is guilty or not. How can an upright samurai be in the wrong in any way? It must be the fault of the lowly whore which should have known her place. Such disgusting beliefs made his gut churn, but he’s aware there is little one can do in this situation.

He needs to leave, walk away, and kill the demon living just on the outskirts of this district.

So why won’t his feet move?

“This bitch is getting what she deserves, and let her serve as a warning to all the workers in the district!”

“Oh no, is he going to decapitate her?!” The kakushi beside him gasps in horror, drawing his focus away from his chants to regain his will power and instead breaking his concentration as he focuses on the slurred drunk words of a man. The crowd is thickening, attention drawn to the spectacle but most of all, the promise of blood shed. “Gyomei-sama…” it would appear the kakushi wishes him to intervene.

He can’t. He’s not supposed to anyway. He knows nothing of the woman’s crimes nor any clear indication on how to pass judgement.

“For trying to run from the great Habuyoshi who mearly admired the beauty! For daring to raise these weak fists at the great Habuyoshi! For biting the dick of the great Habuyoshi! I am putting this filthy dog down!” The crowd was cheering, jeering him on, even begging he kill her after violating her for the crowd to watch, or wanting to do it themselves. Gyomei had heard the red light district was filled with glistening gold and red, and it enrages his heart to think such an auspicious color is tied to such a festering diseased place. No one won here. Ever.

Before the kakushi could move, he’d already made his presence known, easily knocking the samurai unconscious.

The crowd stared in awe and fear of the enormous man wielding only prayer beads, defeating the well known samurai of the area so easily with only a single blow.

“Who owns this prostitute?”

None speak up for a moment, tension thick in the air as a savior appears for a once thought dead woman.

“M-me…” an elderly woman far past her prime shakily steps out, her guilty and shifty expression not seen by the man looking at nothing, but her nervous energy radiated off in waves for all to feel.

“I’ll buy her.”

“Gyomei-sama?!”

“Huh—?”

You awoke with minimal pain.

The jarring events of the night prior swirling in your mind and dumbfounding you because what was that?

You nearly died because a strange man grabbed you off the street while you were running an errand and tried to rape you in an alley way. Of course you fought back, but it seems that’s a crime if the perpetrator is stronger than you.

Tears fell despite your anger. You were no longer a prostitute, your freedom seemingly bought out of kindness but you knew not to trust anything given freely. There’s always a price, and your life thus far had taught you to be witty and at least somewhat charming. Though it hardly did much for you last night when the crowd roared for your execution like your life meant so little.

Your new owner is more terrifying than your previous house mother. At least she’d been open about her greedy vile mindset, but this man is nothing short of an enigma. Why did he save you? What is the purpose? What should you do now? It left you riddled with anxiety as you sat in a bed more comfortable than you could ever remember sleeping in, the blankets and pillows too of better quality than the red light district ever provided even for the top courtesans. You’d been given plain but high quality clothing as well, allowed to bathe alone, and then fed a vegetarian meal so delicious you wondered if the Buddhist monks had it much better than you gave them credit for.

Now you slept, in a room all to yourself, with no idea of what was to come next.

Did he want you as a wife? That didn’t seem right though. He didn’t appear the romantic type, and his size alone mildly frightened you despite his soft demeanor and speech. Were you to act as a servant? Did he wish to sell you to another area and call it good karma, leaving the matter as that? It ate away until you could no longer stand it, rising from the bed you longed to stay in forever, and slipping out of your room to explore the estate.

It’s shockingly empty.

Not a soul in sight as you explored, stealing bread from the kitchen as you walked, pondering the possibility of ghost servants. You felt silly and dismissed it, but the eerie silence was begining to get to you. You turned and headed for an opening, finally finding a serene courtyard. You were awestruck by the landscape, attention quickly caught as you spot a small pond with a bridge.

Hope bloomed and then flourished as you spotted several fat pretty koi swimming about, different colored patterns moving around and hypnotizing you.

“Ssshhwink!” You jolted in shock at the loud sound of a blade being struck, eyes honing in on the source as you see a training ground of sort in the distance.

Shock was the least of your current emotions as you watched the enormous man, your supposed savior for now, swing around an axe and spiked flail attached to a very long chain. Surrounding him were multiple dummies, made from steel, as if you weren’t already shocked silly. For someone so large, he was graceful and fast, skilled in each tiny movement and it nearly made you think of a dance you’d seen long ago at a festival when you were a child.

He’s no one ordinary. That’s clear enough, and he’s not a samurai it seemed either.

He could kill you quicker than that man before and he could’ve killed that man too but chose not to. Your heart trembled, because you knew those that hesitated left empty handed, and if his goal was merely to rescue and abandon you then you’d find yourself back to being sold off or worse.

You needed him to keep you, no matter how his appearance made your knees weak.

“Are you hungry?”

One week. You’d been in his estate one week and this was the first conversation you’d had with him since that night he saved you.

“Namu Amida Butsu. Thank you.” He accepts the lunch you prepared, as you learned fast that once he’d brought you into his estate, he’d been abandoned by his cooks. His servants who cleaned or kept things in order were incredibly well trained and avoided you similarly. You’d been cooking his meals and leaving them outside his room in the morning, and he’d usually be gone for most of the day until very late evening where you’d leave his dinner outside his small study or prayer room.

This was your first chance to initiate contact with him, and it made you swallow your nerves as you came up eye level with his abdomen. He accepts the tray, sitting at the small table in the open courtyard. He repeats his chants while you observe him up close for a moment.

He is handsome in a rugged way. His scars surprisingly only adding character. His thin lips and long lashes would’ve made many woman jealous as well.

“This is very delicious. You’re a good cook.” You startle lightly from your day dream as you stare at him with wide eyes, his face still tilted down as he eats.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He hadn’t expected to find your company so pleasant.

Your presence was easy, comfortable and enjoyable after you warmed up more, chattering away similarly to the love Hashira at times. It made a strange sort of fondness form in his chest as he listens to your opinion on cherry blossom season, and why mochi is best served cold.

He finds himself rushing now after missions to return to his estate, something he’d never have done in the past. If only to hear your greeting of “welcome home” which makes the estate he’d been given actually feel like one.

You held his hand a few days ago, pulling him quickly and quietly to feel the soft fur of a sleeping cat you’d taken to adopting. He remembers the feel of your skin, the fragility of your hand within his, and how tiny you are. It shouldn’t affect him like this. Yet even as he sits below the icy fall of water in a lotus pose, his aching erection won’t ebb.

He’s ashamed the first time he wraps one big calloused palm around his leaking shaft and fucks his fist to the thought of you.

He’s even more ashamed when those thoughts haunt him in your presence.

He’s alarmed however when he wakes tonight to the sound of his shoji sliding open. Not by the intruder, your footsteps much louder ironically when you attempt to be quiet, but by the timing.

He released his cock and laid still, strangely nervous to appear asleep should you check.

Why were you in his room?

He chants in his mind when he hears fabric rustling, then a plop on the floor as something slides and falls. Were you… undressing?

His room felt hotter, or it may have possibly been him, as the sound of you nearing alerts him to a reason you’re here tonight.

“I know you are awake.” You sound bemused.

“I know you should be in bed.” He replies more shakily than he’d hoped to sound.

“I am trying, but you won’t seem to move over for me.” His breath hitches, and before he can think he’s scooting aside and feeling anxious for the first time in a long time. He’s too old now to be fearful of such a tiny woman, your charms and allure certainly difficult to dismiss but you shouldn’t make his hands sweat like this.

“Fuck,” he doesn’t mean to curse, but when you press your nude figure tight against his side, he nearly embarrasses himself by finishing what he’d started before you’d interrupted. Not that he nor his cock minded your company, in fact it twitched as if excited about your presence.

“It feels better if you face me.”

“What are you doing?” He feels flustered, hands desperate to grab you but unsure exactly if he should.

“Seducing you…?” He hears now the unsure tone you speak with, the way your fingers curl into his yukata to prevent him from pushing you away. He shifts and turns, the futon thankfully custom for his size and fitting you fully as he finally touches you. Your face first at least.

“Are you looking at me?”

“Yes.”

“Am I pretty?” He chuckles, smile making you press your thighs together due to the sheer masculine charm he oozed.

“You are soft.” He drops his voice as he presses a hand to the middle of your back and pulls you closer. His body radiates heat like none other you’ve ever felt, all pillowy muscles and smelling of sandalwood and sage, and something else beneath it that made your teeth ache. “You are considerate and empathetic.” His hands smooth over your cheeks, nose, forehead, and lips. “You are cute and witty, I find I laugh most in your presence.” His thumbs lightly graze over your eyes. “You are intelligent. I feel I can confide in you and be understood.” Down your jaw and chest, over your shoulders and down your arms to your hands shaking lightly. “You are also mischievous, I never know what you’ll come up with…” his hands come back up, one loosely and easily encircling your entire throat. “Like sneaking into a man’s room in the middle of the night and climbing into his bed naked.” He means to sound chastising but his lust is difficult to mask. Your giggle lets him know you take it lightly.

“Not some man’s room… your room, Gyomei.”

It’s like you want to set him off.

“Should I go?” He can’t deny the way it ignites him to have you here.

“No.” He groans lightly, hands finally taking the dip you’d both been aching for and feeling your chest. “You don’t get to leave now. At least not until you explain what is it is you search for.”

“Relief?” He frowns, but becomes quickly distracted by the malleable flesh in his hands, thumbs brushing over pebbled nipples and drawing little sighs from you.

“A-and… I guess confirmation.” He pinches on little bud, rewarded with a tiny moan and the arching of your back.

“Confirmation for what?” He murmurs, debating if you being atop him would be easier.

“That you like me.” He halts, startled by the confession.

“You thought I didn’t like you?” He clarifies, finally deciding and easily lifting you up by the hips to sit on his stomach, thighs on either side of him.

“I didn’t know if it was the sort between lovers or not…” he nods, finally understanding.

“I want you deeply, sweet girl.” He doesn’t miss the shiver which shakes you when he calls you that, smile tilting higher into a crooked smirk as he lifts his hands and runs them over your ass, gently squeezing each cheek and then moving to touch your thighs.

You don’t speak as he feels you up, quiet aside from small pleasurable mewls when he plays with your breasts or spreads your ass and let’s cool air hit your cunt.

“Do you touch yourself?”

“Y-yes…?”

“To the thought of me?” You feel your body heat.

“Yes. Always to the thought of you.” Your answer makes him groan, hips rutting up into nothing as he squeezes your hips.

“What do I do to you then, in your fantasies.” He’s desperate to know, desperate to recreate it. Your nails dig into the muscle on his chest, dwarfed on top of him like this.

“Oh, well, I… sit on your face.” He quirks a brow at the odd fantasy, unfamiliar with such an act.

“And do what?”

“Let you lick me, down here.” He allows you to guide his hand to the warmest place on your body, his mind blanking as he realizes.

“Oh.”

“We don’t have to do that though, let’s do what you want—oh!” He’s hauling you up like a doll onto his face, thighs spread on either side and your pussy spread and easily accessible now for his mouth. Gyomei doesn’t hesitate now, tongue slipping out as dragging through your folds as if he’s done this before. He hasn’t but he makes up for it with his wide and powerful tongue and eagerness to learn.

“Gyomei! I—ngh~!” Your moan when he licks at your pussy is more than he ever imagined. The wanton swivel of your hips as you grind down only make him more feral, large hands firmly on your ass and keeping you pressed down. Oxygen the least of his concerns as he licks and sucks until your writhing and digging your nails into his hair while you cry out for him.

He likes this act much more than his own daydreams of being intimate with you, the heady taste of your slick and sounds of your pleasure like a drug.

“I’m going to cum—!” You’re so close it’s a wonder you don’t tip over even as he lifts you completely off his face.

“H-huh?” You sound dazed and confused, so cute it makes him want to settle you down on his face again but he stops himself.

You’re on your back, looking up at his figure not blanketing you, one arm keeping him up as he lifts your chin and kisses you. You taste yourself on his lips.

“You can’t cum yet.” You feel irritable having your orgasm denied, pouty expression unseen but tone converting your emotions.

“Why?” Gyomei smiles, kissing you again and forcing your mouth open to play with your tongue, sliding his thigh between your own so you can grind on him for relief.

He breaks away with a string of saliva connecting you for a moment, warm breath fanning over you. “It will hurt taking me, but it will hurt less if you cum while I’m inserting it.”

Oh. It made sense actually.

Except he doesn’t move ahead to fucking you like you wanted, asking you for more fantasies you‘ve had of him.

“Using your fingers…” and he opened you up more than any man has ever with his fingers alone. Two alone stuffing your poor cunt seemingly to max and once more bringing you to the edge until you felt like crying when he pulled away.

“Shh,” he cooes, mildly upset he’s causing you distress and equally amused by how cute he finds your grumbling as he rearranges you again. This time he just rolls your clit gently with his thumb and kisses you, lavishing your neck in love bites you’ll surely need help covering in the morning and then giving attention to your breasts.

“Gyomei please!” Your third denial felt nearly painful, your core cramping with the desperate need for release as you wiggle and struggle beneath him.

“You’ll be very sorry if I take you now, be good for me, little lotus.” He kisses away your tears of frustration, once more spearing you open with two fingers until you’re moaning and rolling your hips into him, then he adds a third.

He stills when you hiss in pain, concern painting his features as he moves to pull them out only for your hand to stop him.

“It’s okay! I’m alright, it just stings a little.”

“We can stop here, I’ll make you cum and we can go back to sleep—,”

“No! I want you, please.”

He feels hesitant until you begin to relax, body finally accepting three fat fingers stretching your little hole out as slick drips down his palm and soaks into bed below.

“G-Gyomei please let me cum, I can take you even if I do, I just need—!” You’re so close again, but he’s stringent as he pulls free from your soft tight walls with a pop. Your whine of frustration goes ignored as he finally reaches his own limit.

“I’m going to sit you in my lap.” You’re pliant in his hold as he sits up and drags you with him, placing your back to his front as he unties his yukata and allows himself to be free. He gives himself a few pumps, balls swinging heavy as he sits down with you.

You regret looking down in curiosity. Having known some men, despite being quite big physically, can have small penises.

Gyomei isn’t one of them apparently, his caution not without cause as you see the enormous cock he carries, the thick veiny shaft frightening and leaking pre-cum like a stream. Even his balls were ridiculously large, and you briefly pondered taking his offer of going to sleep.

You shook it off as you felt a gentle kiss to your temple, body relaxing as he began another round of torture to your clit with more gentle rolls with his fingers.

“Relax for me, you’re being so good, all mine,” he’s mumbling, body tense as he holds himself back and prepares mentally to keep calm as he lifts you up and lets the plush tip kiss your entrance. Then you’re feeling pleasure and pressure like nothing you‘ve ever felt before, mind going blank as you cum while he stuffs you to full capacity, Gyomei similarly struggling as he moans feeling your gooey walls contract and try to push him out even as gravity drags you down on his cock.

“Gyo—hah—!” You can hardly breathe, body struggling to connect the pain while you’re writhing pleasure as he wraps an arm around your waist and lifts you up and down, still touching your swollen nub, bullying his cock into you one inch at a time. Your squeals of shock and euphoria nearly make him lose it, and when his tip finally smushes up against your cervix, he cums hard.

“I-I can feel it filling me—,” your eyes roll back as hot spurts of cum pump into your womb, Gyomei’s arm like an anchor as he groans and rocks you gentle against him.

“Feels so good…” he’d never known sex could feel like this, that you felt like this, but he’s unable to pull out despite his cock becoming sensitive. Instead he keeps you in place, plugging your little hole with his cock and keeping every drop of cum inside you where it belongs.

That thought startles him. Did he want to make you pregnant? Did he want a family?

More than anything—

Gyomei groans, hushing you as you whine and wiggle in his lap, feeling his cock swelling thick and hard again inside you. “Gyomei—s’too much,” you feel like you’ll burst, body already exhausted but he’s hardly done it seems as he begins to bounce you again, feeling more akin to a toy as his shaft splits your pussy open. The slick squelching noises blend with your moans and his grunts, his cock burying itself as deeply as possible each thrust as he murmurs praise down into your ear.

“So good for me. Taking all of me so well,”

“Do you like feeling my cum inside you? Do you want more?”

“I’m going to fill you up again, make you nice and full.”

“Going to put a baby inside you, let everyone know you’re mine now.”

You’re gone, too cock drunk to do much else but cum around him and moan, drool spilling down your chin in a thin line as he takes away all coherent thoughts.

You awake the next morning sore and groggy, face confused as you look at a room not your own.

You glance down at the arm keeping you trapped, merely draped over you but so weighted you’d need to wake him to move.

He got you filthy last night, cum coating all of you inside and out before he’d washed you and put you to bed. The memory brings heat to your face as you burry yourself into the bed and smile.

He’s yours now too.

Your story to be told as one from rags to riches.

Dividers/@cafekitsune

[scientia-rex]

I got home from work today sneezing my head off with a right eye that won’t stop watering, took a hot shower, climbed into bed, and I haven’t climbed out since. I’m grumpy and I have a headache and if I’m not testing positive for COVID or debilitated by symptoms tomorrow I’ll still need to go to work because that’s twenty patient visits that would need to be rescheduled, usually with someone else, and that’s twenty people I’m letting down. Today I did one of my patented 45-second Pap smears (if it takes longer than that, your doctor needs to get better!) for someone with vaginal atrophy from menopause (it is both very common and very treatable) and she was in disbelief. (This time it was more like 30 seconds.) I saw a suicidally depressed patient who’s clinging to life with both hands and I changed their meds last week and I am not making them wait to see me. I cleaned a wound no one else gave a shit about and I saw a bitter pissy Republican Party bigwig who has terrible anxiety and depression she doesn’t tell anyone about, who’s alienated everyone but who I can still convince to try treatment.

I do my job on hard mode on purpose. I like being important—who doesn’t? I like being legendary, I like that when people move to town and ask for doctor recommendations on Facebook so many people mention me that other patients feel compelled to tell me about it. I got nominated for best doctor in our local region last year. (I didn’t win, out of 5 nominees.) But when I’m sick, when I’m the kind of sick that can be hidden easily, the kind of sick I was always expected to go to school and rotations and residency with, it’s so hard. I hate exposing patients, even to a cold, but the benefits of receiving care are probably enough to outweigh the chance of transmission. I wrestle with myself: if I call in, it starts a ripple effect. Can they get a per diem from their “pool” (of three) to come in? Can they reschedule my patients with me? I don’t have any open spots for five weeks. Can they open same days? None available for three weeks. Can they open blocked spots? That’s going to make my life hell when I come back from being sick. That’s clinic staff calling twenty patients, trying to reach them. That’s twenty patients who feel abandoned. They can know intellectually that doctors get sick too, but they don’t believe it. They take it personally. I have seen this over and over again, until I had to believe it.

It is so EASY for people who don’t do this job to tell me how I’m doing it wrong. “Just stay home!” Oh, okay, you want to tell the person whose chronic opioids I’m supposed to write for that I can’t? You want to put the nurses through getting the on-call to write a bridge prescription? I write more ADHD meds than most of my peers—usually a lot more. You want to tell my colleagues to write meds they’re uncomfortable with? How about tell my suicidal patients (which is a lot of them!) that the provider they know and trust after months or years will be replaced today by a 70-year-old white man who still thinks they should pull themselves up by their bootstraps? Tell my queer patients that they have to wait until I’m better and back to get their hormones and their STI screenings, reschedule a Pap someone was dreading. Every day is a kaleidoscope of opportunities to make a real connection with “difficult” patients. I’m good at it. I may be the best at it at my clinic.

I don’t hate calling in sick just because the clinic manager is a judgy bitch, though that doesn’t help. I hate it because of what it does to my patients. And it’s not simple. Pretending it is does all of us a disservice. I am not a widget. I am not easily replaceable. You can’t plug any of our per diems (all men, 2/3 white, 2/3 old, 1/3 a Bitcoin bro) into my place and call it an equivalent, and my schedule is already so packed that if I call in sick, patients will be guilt-tripping me about it for months. I’m not kidding. That happens every single time.

Christ alive, I wish it was true that doctors never got sick.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

possibly scenes between masquerade canon aka who left the two hotel grumps together who did that. don't do that. what if they start bonding and shit

Vaggie: “Okay… Angel’s off to work, and Charlie’s off to work on that… looks like it’s just us assholes here.”

Husk: “Do not lump me in with you motherfuckers.”

Vaggie: "You're literally worse than them."

Husk: "Bullshit." (swig) "And there's no them without including YOUR sorry ass too."

Vaggie: (glares) "Har. Har."

Sir Pentious: “Can WE, er, ah- sssswitch off the porn now..?”

Niffty: “No~” (kicking heels) “Let’s rewind to part where the bad boy actually EATS Angel’s ass.”

Vaggie: “Niffty- ugh, can you just, take it back to your own room?”

Niffty: “The hotel air vents don’t have a TV!”

Vaggie: “You live in the- okay. Pentious. I won’t kill you for watching me and Charlie sleep IF you rig Niffty up with her own TV somewhere that’s not the lobby.”

Sir Pentious: “Do I HAVE to ssspend time with the pessst-”

Vaggie: (punches fist into palm) "Now."

Sir Pentious: “-AH yes!!  PORN ISSS A RIGHT NONE SHOULD BE DENIED!” (scoops up nifty) “Come sssmall pessst, let uss inssstall a sssscrene for your PRIVATE viewing pleasssure!”

Niffty: (giggling) “Do you even know what privacy means-?”

Sir Pentious: “AAAHAHA OF COURSE I DO!!!” (hurriedly slithers away)   

Husk: “… and these are the fuckers you and your little miss princess are trying to rehabilitate.”

Vaggie: “That’s the plan yeah.”

Husk: “Ha! Good fucking luck.”   

Vaggie: (sigh) “Husk?”

Husk: “What?”

Vaggie: “You’re fired.”

Husk: (spits drink) “FffUCK-” (cough) “-you I’m WHAT!?”

Vaggie: “Can’t keep to the code of not talking about shit you know you weren’t supposed to hear? Fine. No more bartender therapy for you."

Husk: "You can't fucking do that."

Vaggie: "Hotel fucking manager, asshole. Watch me. From now on you serve drinks ONLY to go, NO more people sitting at your bar for you make yourself feel better listening to. Not until you treat them like people instead of a damn telenovela."

Husk: “You think I LIKE listening to you all bitching?”

Vaggie: “No. I’m saying I’m not the only self-hating bastard here who gets off on judging others.”

Husk: “Fuck you.”

Vaggie: "Wow what a comeback. Look Husk, if you’re gonna break our trust just to score points in a dumb argument then you can go get your gossip somewhere else.”

Husk: “It’s the only way I’m getting paid in this crappy place!”

Vaggie: “And who’s fault is that? Did I sell your soul to a creepy smug disc jockey?”

Husk: “You’re sure using it either way.”

Vaggie: “Can’t be judgmental without being a fucking hypocrite too, right? Might as well own it, since now everyone knows that’s my thing.”

Husk: “I was trying to help you motherfucking losers!”

Vaggie: “Like hell. Telling others how much they suck feels good doesn't it? Feels like you've got it all figured out. No reason to get your own shit together when you can point at people who're an even bigger mess than you. No, you've already learned your lesson, you fucked up but won't be making any more mistakes. At least you're not in denial over it. At least you're coping with it the right way, aren't you."

Husk: "Well you'd sure fucking know since you're doing it right now."

Vaggie: "Takes one to know one."

Husk: "Tell yourself that if it helps."

Vaggie: "Oh you wanna talk about helping? Charlie’s trying to help every one of you assholes here. She's the one opening up and risking fucking up and getting hurt trying to reach you! Not that it matters to any of you.”    

Husk: “…”

Sir Pentious: (muffled) “It matterssss to me!!!”

Vaggie: (groans) “WHAT DOES PRIVACY MEAN, PENTIOUS!?”

Sir Pentious: “….not, ah, lisssstening in from the hotel air ventilashhhtion ssssystem…?”

Niffty: “Carrrrreful. Don’t crawl through my disembowel rat corpse collection~”

Sir Pentious: (shrieking)

-later that night-

Vaggie: “Hey."

Husk: "Hey your fucking self."

Vaggie: "Angel Dust said you had a drink with him.”

Husk: “Yeah? What if he did?” (ears flattening) “He didn’t even get fucking tipsy and I’m not telling anyone what that loser would’ve said to me while drunk off his ass anyway. I don’t hate you motherfuckers that much.”

Vaggie: (smiles) “Yeah. I know.”

Husk: “…. your miss princess asleep?”

Vaggie: “Technically she’s in bed. Angel Dust came over for a sleepover girls night and I kicked Pentious out of a shadowy corner to join them. You seen Niffty?”

Husk: “No. Sounds like she’s still enjoying that shitty film though.”

Vaggie: “Sounds like? What-”

Husk: “Shh. Listen.”

Vaggie: “…… are the air vents..”

Husk: “Moaning.”

Vaggie: “That’s Angel Dust’s moaning. That’s his work moan- Fuck, I never wanted to know what that sounded like- but does that means the hotel ventilation system is-?”

Husk: “Piping hot garbage throughout the hotel like hell’s shittiest surround sound.”  

Vaggie: “Great.”

Husk: “Hope your princess is ready for the audiobook.”

Vaggie: “Ugggghhhh.”

Husk: “Drink?”

Vaggie: “Just break the bottle over my head....”

Husk: “Fuck no.” (grins) “I’m not wasting a whole bottle on you.”

Vaggie: “Pour it out for yourself then. Tonight you’ve earned it.”

Husk: “Earned what, a fucking hangover?”

Vaggie: (rolls eye) “Just drink up, old man. I’ll drag you back to your room and toss you in when you’re done getting drunk off your own ass.”

Husk: “Huh!”

Vaggie: “I also won’t tell your princess he left you smiling like a dumbass for the rest of the night either.”

Husk: (opens bottle) “You better fucking not...” (swigs) (still smiling)

[notmyneighbor]

r&d | yog sothoth x female reader

part 3/?

words | 3.3k

cw | tnmn nightmare mode, eventual smut, no explicit content in this chapter, vampire bite

ao3 link

taglist | @jazminetoad @kaislashes @lakeside-paradise @paxispax @luvvxsn @barbatoss-bitch @moody-mod

“I thought you increased the dose.”

“I did. She shouldn’t be awake this early.”

You recognize one of the voices, but the other is foreign. It sounds like Dr. Afton is speaking, but that makes no sense. You’re not at the apartment building. You’re in the DDD facility. The trial. You struggle to open your eyes. Yes, that was indeed the third floor resident you’d heard. His eyes are focused on your features, narrowed behind the lenses of his glasses, brow furrowed.

“You said this one showed promise.”

“She does. None of the others have been able to tolerate the treatment while maintaining focus and sanity in this reality and, even more impressively, perfect job peformance.”

You blink slowly. Your eyes feel gummy, your lids trying to stick together. You try to find the owner of the other man’s voice but he’s out of your field of view. You can’t find the strength to turn your head, your limbs weighted like lead.

“You do realize ‘perfect job peformance’ indicates that the project is a failure if none of the doppels can convince a doorman to let them in, don’t you? How do you think that will translate into real world applications? There has been too much time and money invested in this already. I’ve got the General breathing down my neck. We need results, not promises. I’m still not convinced this new side project is going to amount to anything.”

“That’s because you’re not a scientist. You have no sense of creativity, of imagination, of patience. We are doing great work here. Pioneers of feats no one else has been able to achieve. Think of what will happen when we’re able to establish a permanent link between the two realms, when we can inhabit both. Twice the territory to conquer.”

“You’re assuming the doppels there are going to be able to be useful allies, when you don’t even have full control over the ones we already have. We shouldn’t have shared their development when it hasn’t even been proven reliable yet.”

Afton waves a hand in the air dismissively. “Nonsense. It’s been more than a fair exchange for the tech we’ve received in return. And we’re getting there. Each new unit dispatched has been showing improved progress. And the rogue ones are being dealt with accordingly.”

“How do we know the inhabitants of that other realm don’t intend to turn on us and just take over here instead?

“Imagine if everyone just surrendered because of some vague doubts. You military types are so cynical and narrow minded. You’re only to happy to reap the rewards of these trials, but you don’t want to actually get your own hands dirty.”

“My men have risked plenty,” the other man growls.

“Yes, yes. I’m not implying sacrifices haven’t been made,” Afton hastily attempts to placate the other observer. “I’m merely saying this venture requires some unconventional thinking and unusual techniques that some would question the ethics and morality of. Shortsightedness, that’s what they’re cursed with. Cowardice, really. What we’re doing here is reshaping our future. Changing our destiny,” he concludes, the fervor evident in his voice. You’ve never heard the man speak so much. He’s usually so quiet and introverted. This entire conversation you’re witnessing feels surreal.

“And what about the visitor?” This last said with clear disapproval.

“What about him?” Afton snaps. You see a blurry image of liquid being drawn up into a syringe, then hear it set down on a surface nearby.

“We should be talking elsewhere.”

“I’ve told you, the experiment’s minds are wiped clean after each session. You can talk freely.”

You bristle internally. Experiment? Is that what you are? What the hell is going on?

“I don’t trust him. He has too much unrestricted access.”

“That’s not your concern. Your superior has cleared him, and so have I. He’s been an invaluable asset in this latest project.”

“I don’t like you keeping secrets, Doctor. Not when it puts my people’s safety at risk.”

“Fortunately for you, you don’t need to like it. Your duty is to serve in the military and obey your commanding officer’s orders. I relay all necessary information to you. Besides, the rest would just be a bit too technical for you to try to comprehend.” His lips twist in a half smile that seems more condescending than reassuring.

You realize there’s something tucked into your hand. It’s difficult, but you manage to uncurl your fist. The researcher’s eyes catch the movement and flick down. He lifts the object before you have a chance to react.

“What’s that?”

Afton’s lips curve into a smile that’s sincere this time. “That, my friend, is progress. She’s been able to bring something back.”

“How?”

“I told you this one was special. You’ve got some progress to report, now,” he says smugly.

You squint, trying to discern what the man is holding. You don’t understand half of what’s being discussed. Maybe you’re dreaming. You must be. Some wild fantasy your brain has concocted. Stress relieving itself and manifesting in the form of this bizarre scenario.

A padlock. That’s what is pinched between Afton’s fingers. A slight ache resonates in your chest. There’s something important about it. You raise your arm, your fingers stretching for it. It belongs to someone you know.

“I told you she should be kept restrained until she’s transferred.”

“Relax. She’s still lethargic and as weak as a kitten. A little more Midazolam mixed into the cocktail and this will all be forgotten.” His hand closes over your wrist and pushes it back down. You can’t resist, the limb weakly succumbing, once again secured in a restraint. “Time for another nap.”

This is alarmingly familiar. You try to struggle against the bonds that have just appeared, but it’s no use. Even speaking takes great effort. Your tongue feels swollen and dry, clumsy. “That’s not yours. Give it back.”

“I’ll keep it safe, not to worry. It will need to be analyzed.” He drops the padlock into one of the deep pockets of his lab coat. “What a little wonder you are,” he murmurs softly as he leans closer. You feel a sharp pain in your arm and tears pricking the corners of your eyes. That needle felt all too real. You could even smell the scientist’s aftershave when he’d gotten closer to you just now. This vivid imagery can’t be made up. It has to be real. Which means…which means…

“Yog,” you murmur drowsily as the injection begins to take effect. That’s who the padlock belongs to, though you can’t quite put a face to the odd name.

“What did she say?”

“Nothing. Just babbling nonsense. She’s almost knocked out again. Tell your commanding officer I’ll have a full progress report ready by tomorrow.”

“Yog,” you manage one more time, trying to cling stubbornly to that word, but it slips free and you are lost, sinking down, down, into a void of nothingness.

***

“You know the drill.”

Oh. You’re back here. Again.

The hazmat suited cleaner on the opposite side of the window turns to leave but you halt him, slapping a hand on the cracked window’s surface.

“Hey, wait. Don’t leave yet. I want to talk to you.”

Silence meets your request. The DDD employee exits the entryway of the building and you sigh in frustration, glaring at the quartet of eyes watching you from the frame. You’ve half a mind to try poking one just to see what would happen.

“Hello, human.”

One of the twin sisters, this one as pretty and pale as the counterpart in your own world, is standing before you. She’s called Anazareth here.

You look closely at the trio of tattoos on her features, quickly counting and recounting the number of horns on her head. Accurate so far. She’s on the list and she has all her documents.

“Did you have a successful day of creating curses?” You’re not really making small talk. You want to see her teeth again.

“Yes, very satisfactory.” Sharp teeth. She’s the real deal.

“Go on through.”

You unlock the door and then seal it shut. You wish you could retain more of your memories. You’d gone back for your third appointment so willingly, so blindly, walking right back into Afton’s trap. And now here you are, the memories frustratingly clear in this world, lending you no aid for when you return to your own reality. There has to be a way to counteract the effects, somehow. A way to trigger the release of memories when you return home.

“You’re back.”

You look up and sigh again, this time in relief. The friendly vampire rests a hand against the smudged, battered glass and you match your palm to his.

“Hi, Yog.”

You hit the switch and let him inside without even pausing to check his documents first, exiting the booth just as Yog reaches it. You both hesitate for a moment before you surge forward and his arms envelop you.

“You didn’t check my ID and request,” he chides gently.

“I knew it was you.”

“Still, you should be careful.” His fingers stroke your hair. “Did it work? The jewelry…”

“Yes, it worked. Afton took it away, though. To study it.” You burrow into his shirt. There is a musky, earthy smell to him that is pleasant. “I heard him talking to someone from the military. They’re trying to find a way to establish a permanent connection between both realities. I think I’m the first one from my world who’s been successfully managing to exist in each one. It sounded like the other ‘volunteers’ haven’t been so fortunate.”

“So that’s what he’s after. And that explains where the other human visitors went.”

“He said someone came from here originally. That’s how they found out about it in the first place. I don’t know who, though.”

You feel Yog stiffen. “If I had to guess, I’d wager it’s his own counterpart.”

You draw back to look at the vampire. “Orcus? The purple guy wearing that battered mascot suit with the silver eyes? I’ve never seen that resident in person, only the picture on file.”

A knocking sound interrupts your conversation. Another resident is at your window. Lilith, now. The other twin sister. You spot the spelling error of her name immediately and call the DDD to collect the witch. The same tired rhetoric on the phone and in person. You don’t even bother trying to communicate with the cleaner this time.

As soon as he leaves, you turn your attention back to the vampire. “How much do you know about Orcus?”

He folds his arms across his chest. “Very little. He’s not social. Neither is his roommate. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn his ‘skinning’ activities aren’t what one would consider in the traditional hunting sense, though,” Yog murmurs.

You shudder at the term. “If he’s not stealing skins, what else is he after? Using bodies for something? A kind of experiment?”

“Maybe. It could be whatever Afton has been injecting you with to transport you here. That technology must have come from Orcus. Something he’s learned how to harvest.”

Another visitor interrupts again. Abducius Morail. You have to remind him to show his ID card. The entry request looks fine. He’s on the list of expected travelers. Seven stitches hold the skin where his nose should have been closed. The stretched eyelids creep you out to no end. And that smile. You shiver and return his card through the slot, buzzing him in. If he has an opinion on your security booth hosting a guest today, he doesn’t reveal it, merely slipping through the entrance, still grinning manically.

“So what do we do? I can’t remember anything when I get back. I keep getting tricked into coming here over and over again.”

Yog frowns. “I’m not sure. We’re up against more than just Afton and Orcus. The military is involved. And there’s still the doppels to deal with, too.”

“Which Afton help create. And gave that knowledge to Orcus. This is such a mess. I’d be better off not remembering any of this.”

“I don’t think you mean that,” the vampire says quietly.

“No. I don’t. I’m sorry, Yog. I’m just frustrated. Scared. Angry. A lot of things.”

“Completely understandable.”

“You’re the only good part about all of this, you know that?” You let your fingers drag across one of the red velvet bands decorating his shirtsleeve.

“You have another visitor.”

You glance at the window. Xezbet Xerbeth. The soul eater. Another resident with a menacing grin. Twin pinpricks of red are all that reside in dark eyesockets. The skin around the suture lining his balding head looks pink and raw, as if the incision had been made recently, while the scar on his cheek looks older, better healed. Not on the list, so you call to verify that he’s not at home. Drugia answers, confirming this. Everything else checks out. You open the door and then close it behind him, very aware of the resident hovering close behind you.

“I hope I’m not distracting you.”

“You’re not. I mean, you are, but. It’s good. I like it. I like you,” you add softly.

“Come see me when you’re done? I’ll be alone again.” His fingers brush your cheek.

“Okay.”

Yog bends to kiss the side of your neck, his lips grazing your throat and making you gasp. “I wouldn’t drink without permission. I take that very seriously.”

“I know. You have it. Except…it will make my time here shorter.”

“Good point. Later, then.” The vampire slips out of the booth, leaving you alone again. With those stupid eyes judging you.

***

You’ve survived another shift in the nightmare realm.

You’re standing outside Yog’s apartment now, more nervous than ever. Things are changing between the two of you. Exciting. Dangerous. What possible good could come of this? Your fingers touch the place he’d bitten you a week ago. No marks left.

It wasn’t a one way path. Orcus came through. Yog could, too. Maybe that was the key. An ally on the other side.

The door opens after you remember to knock. You duck inside, lingering by the door after he closes it.

“You looked deep in thought just now.”

“I was thinking about Orcus. His ability to visit. Wondering if you’d be able to. If it’s even possible. If it’s safe. If you’d want to,” you finish softly, your eyes lowering shyly.

“I think about you when you’re not here. Wondering how you are, what you’re doing.”

“It’s not fair. I can’t do the same. Stupid injections,” you mutter bitterly.

“I know our time together is short. So I want to make the most of it.” He reaches for one of your hands. “You want to come with me?”

You swallow thickly and nod, letting him lead you forward, deeper into the apartment. No living room stop today. You’re guided to the master bedroom. Yog releases your hand and turns on a lamp. Every window is encased in shutters that look like steel with ruby drapes over them. The same color scheme as the rest of the living space is evident in this room, too. Dark sheets and pillows. Dark dresser.

No reflection in the mirror. You’d forgotten to ask about that, the last time you’d run through the standard vampire lore questions. You stare at your image and feel his arms come around you, can see the subtle shifts in the clothes you’re wearing as his hands move, stroking across your arms, your hair stirring when he nuzzles your cheek.

“Is it hard to get ready without having a mirror to see what you look like?”

You feel his lips smile against your skin. “It takes getting used to, certainly.”

You turn in his arms, siphoning though the dark rust colored locks. “You manage pretty well.”

“Pretty well, hmmm?”

Last time you had barely brushed his lips as you’d slipped back into your own realm. Now his press firmly to yours, and your pounding heart races even faster. You can feel the sharp points of his fangs when you lips part for him, your tongue gently prodded as you explore each other’s mouths for the first time. He tastes good. Almost like cinnamon. Not metallic like you’d thought he would.

“I want to be very clear with you,” he murmurs between kisses, “that I am a gentleman and I will not force myself on you in any way. I don’t have to feed. We don’t have to…”

“Fuck?” You supply breathlessly.

A sharp inhale. “Well, yes. I suppose that’s one way to put it.”

“Crude?”

He shakes his head. “Naughty. I like it. Let’s get more comfortable.”

You step out of your shoes and sit down on the edge of the mattress and the vampire follows suit. His pale fingers drag over your cheeks and trace your lips and then the golden eyes are shuttered beneath a fringe of closed lids and sooty lashes as he leans, pressing you down beneath him. His mouth travels along your jaw and neck and collarbone, shifting the neckline of your work blouse to reach the stripe of bone rising beneath the skin. He samples your wrists and you wonder if he can sense how swiftly the blood is racing through your veins; if he hears it rushing like a river rapids, filled with that strange glowing substance gifted from his neighbor to one of yours that he finds so tantalizing.

His lips crush yours and you feel the intensity picking up, the neediness of each touch as he massages one breast. Your hand trails down his shirt, dipping bravely over the growing bulge in his pants and you’re rewarded with a moan of warm air above your mouth. Aurelian eyes gaze into your own. “When I take you, if—”

“—When,” you correct, your head lifting to nip at his bottom lip, and he smiles at you.

“When,” he agrees. “I don’t want it to be rushed, because of someone else’s dictates.” The vampire kisses you again. “And I will come to you, if I am able. I do want to,” he says, finally answering your musings from earlier. “We’ll figure this out together,” he promises.

“I don’t know how much time I have left. I don’t want to forget you again,” you whisper.

Yog sighs against your throat, his hips rolling languidly, pressing against your body. Such a cruel tease for what you both really want. You cup the back of his neck, holding him there, indicating what you desire.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

A sweet sting, unlike the needle Afton is so fond of using on you, and the vampire’s mouth seals against the punctures he’s created. It’s over nearly as soon as it’s begun, the creature taking less of your lifeforce this time.

“You didn’t feed as much,” you observe out loud.

“Being cautious,” he murmurs, head lifting, eyes watching your features.

“Keeping me here longer.”

His lips twitch. “Maybe a little of that, too.”

“Let me taste it.”

Yog hesitates. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Its already in my bloodstream. What difference would it make?”

“I don’t know.”

“Kiss me.”

The vampire’s cheeks and lips look flushed, rosy, healthy. You’ve done that. With so little sacrificed, you’ve brought about such a change. If only the bite marks were something you could bring with you. A keepsake Afton couldn’t take away. Something to make you remember.

“Kiss me until I disappear.”

His head lowers and he kisses you very gently. Nothing. You don’t sense any difference in the flavor on his lips. Your tongue darts out and your mouths join again. His body grinds against yours as the kisses grow more frenzied.

“This is maddening. I don’t want you to leave,” he groans in frustration, head dipping into the space between your neck and shoulder.

That strange, rocking, drowsy feeling is coming again. You’re being drawn back to your own reality.

“Yog,” you say warningly, and his face immediately reappears above yours.

“Don’t forget me,” he pleads, his mouth pressing against your lips, and then empty air.

You’re gone.

[moonpetrichors-blog]

Dating Lo’ak Includes...

Tags: Lo’ak x Reader, Heacanons, Fluff, Dating, Avatar 2, Gn!Reader, More Slight Angst LMAO

Warnings: None

What dating Lo’ak would include.

Look I was crushing on Lo’ak for like the entire movie, of course if Neteyam is getting relationship headcanons so will my boy Lo’ak ‼

* ˚ ✦ Read below the cut

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-╰┈➤ ❝ [25/12/22] ❞  

Lord he is so cute.

Like Neteyam, he has a very sweet and caring personality, and shows his affection for you through quality time and physical touch.

Just like his dad, he’s got such a cocky and sarcastic mouth on him LMAO

That shit makes you SWOON

Before you even started dating Lo’ak, he was so stubborn about not confessing and simply expected to keep it to himself.

He’s very clumsy with himself though, and sucks at keeping his feelings hidden

It was only a matter of time before you realized what was going on 💀

You honestly find it endearing how nervous and ungraceful he is around you

It’s very easy to probe reactions out of him, so half your conversations are either playful banter or teasing

He’s pretty reckless so sometimes when you go on dates it’s not the most safe or well thought out plan...💀

The majority of decisions in your relationship is honestly based off of impulsive choices. Dude can’t be methodical for his LIFE

He’s disobedient and will literally do the opposite of what you tell him to do just so you guys can play fight LMFAO

Now, we all know how Lo’ak feels like the odd one out in his family.

He makes bad choices, gets into trouble, and overall feels like he’s second best to his older brother.

So of course, his recalcitrant attitude is a way he builds walls around himself.

But honestly? This attitude we know and love is probably a façade.

Deep down, all he wants to do is prove his worth and be helpful, but all it does it backfire on him.

He’s been hurt time and time again, seeing himself as an outcast and a failure.

As his significant other, you make him feel appreciated and valued, because you see him for who he really is and love him as he is.

For once, Lo’ak doesn’t feel like an outsider. He feels like he doesn’t have to prove himself with you.

Despite this, Lo’ak is still an independent lover and enjoys his alone time.

He has a difficult time relying on other people, and the fact that he’s let you in this much means a lot.

I can see him playing both sides of the relationship. Some days he’ll take the initiative, and other times he just wants to be held by you.

Dude THRIVES in chaos. If you’re disobedient too? Y’all are reckless idiots together.

Is also an overprotective lover. Absolutely will not hesitate to beat the shit out of someone who tries to talk badly upon your name.

It doesn’t matter if you’re being directly harassed or trash talked behind your back, trust that Lo’ak will be ready to punt some bitches into next week.

Imagine patching him up after punch fights omg??? I just KNOW he loves it when you run your hands over his knuckles and kiss them better.

Please comfort my boy on his appearance :((

He’s got a sarcastic and unwavering personality, yes, but don’t doubt the fact that he can get insecure about how he looks sometimes.

Part of the reason why he loves when you kiss his knuckles is because you remind him every part of him is loveable; even the human bits.

You make the darkest parts of himself feel seen; and he will always be thankful he has someone like you that embraces all of him.

[sailorblossoms-snowbaz]

about behavior and Baz knowing his feelings vs Simon not knowing

Another way in which these books challenge expectations is that you see a character fully aware of his feelings for someone and expect them to act a certain way (tumblr has shown me incorrect quotes and other jokes and similar formats and I just want to put emphasis on incorrect).

I think a key thing is that Baz knows how he feels about Simon but gives nothing away, while Simon doesn’t know how he feels about Baz but he gives everything away anyway. Baz has restraint. Simon has none. This connects to how Baz is someone who tells you things while Simon shows you without telling you…

Way before Baz shows up, Simon’s POV clearly paints the picture of an obsession (in a “this is gay behavior” type of way). He has the type of obsession associated with romantic love – he just doesn’t know it yet. Before Baz shows up, Simon is already showing (but not telling) that he’s in love. When Baz shows up, he cuts through the chase and simply tells you he’s in love… In terms of words and verbal communication, Baz is clear in ways Simon might not be. But in terms of behavior? It is Simon, and not Baz, who is actually more obvious about his feelings. I think this is part of why awtwb has Simon (and not Baz) looking back to highlight his behavior as an obvious indicator of his feelings for Baz, as if Baz should have known. “I’m whatever I was when I was following you everywhere,” “you can’t be trusted to tell when people are into you because you couldn’t tell I was into you (no vibe-check)” I’m not saying Baz should have known shit, it’s understandable that he didn’t. But looking from the outside, it is far easier to point out Simon’s gay behavior because Baz has restraint Simon doesn't and he wants to hide himself. I mean, Simon is the one going to Baz to get his attention as soon as he shows up. Simon is the one going to every football practice to watch Baz play, and making sure he can listen to him practice with his violin – nothing Baz does is as obvious as this.

As an outsider, you could mistakenly believe that perhaps Baz is just a troublemaker, that he just wants to be antagonistic, and the closest he gets to giving something away (his jealousy) that’s quickly explained away heterosexually (and even if as an outsider you don’t believe he’s interested in her, you could still think he’s trying to be antagonistic by getting under Simon’s skin, what with him only doing shit when Simon is around). Even after kissing him, Simon still doesn’t contemplate that Baz likes him (although this also packs another set of issues).

I often joke (in an “I’m saying this as a joke but I’m dead serious” type of way) that when Simon is giving you a list (which is not long, mind you) of everything Baz has done to him to “prove” he’s A Villain, it looks like “every time Baz paid special attention to me: the greatest hits.” As much as Simon bitches about Baz’s plotting, it seems to me that outside of those moments, Baz actually just… tended to mind his business? That the mentioned list is as short as it is (even if it doesn’t include everything) because, in general, Baz didn’t have to do anything to get Simon’s attention, because he didn’t have to. Simon was on him practically the whole time. Something was bothering Baz whenever he acted up – if I remember correctly he mentions liking Simon’s attention whenever they fought before vs hating fighting when they are together – but in general, it seems to me that Baz didn’t have to do anything for Simon’s attention, because he had it all the time, to the point it began to suffocate him. Simon was taking the initiative perhaps in the same way he goes on to take it when he’s the one kissing Baz, asking to be boyfriends, and generally jumping him (desire).

It’s also important to highlight that, contrary to what someone who is going by assumptions might think, it’s not that Baz saw Simon a certain way (sparkles and floating flowers and shit) because he knows he’s in love, while Simon sees Baz in a certain way (unappealingly) because he’s seeing him as an evil little gremlin or some shit. Simon never really sees Baz as unappealing or ugly “because he’s evil.” Even when he’s brainwashing himself into roles (“Baz would be perfect if he wasn’t a vampire” – unpacking this should a different post) Simon still gives away that he’s attracted to him, that Baz is fit as fuck, that Baz being himself is enough to make him romantically desirable (because he’s in love). “He’s a creep” he thinks, while sulking because Baz doesn’t pay him attention while getting date vibes. “He always creeps me out and I totally mean it…. but I never can sleep well if he’s not in the same room as me... if I can’t listen to the sound of him breathing close to me...” I mean… c'mon. At the height of his brainwashed delusion (or however you want to call it, Simon already has an image of Baz as “anyone would want him,” way before he goes on to say that explicitly.

Also, as much as he might fantasize, it's not Baz who’s all “we should just kiss instead of fighting” because he’s aware he’s in love. It’s Simon. Simon is the one who’s all “We should never fight again and just roll around on the floor kissing” the second he gets even an inkling that he wants Baz. I saw a joke in that incorrect quote format that was like “Baz asks for a kiss” and “Simon says he wants him to die but we can’t always get what we want” or some shit and I can’t think of anything that’s farther from “capturing their vibes” or whatever. When Simon is combative he couldn’t be further from catching any vibe whatsoever, either from Baz or from himself, outside of the whole “hero vs nemesis” deal. Simon is the one who is all over Baz looking for a kiss with practically nothing, while Baz tries to act like Simon suddenly has brain damage because he just wants to kiss and be boyfriends. I mean, Baz’s thing is that he struggles with asking for what he wants – he’s too used to hiding himself (he doesn’t succeed in hiding his vampirism from Simon, but he very much succeeds in hiding his romantic feelings for him – Simon kisses him because he wants to kiss him, not because he’s figured out Baz wants him, even if Baz is giving "kiss me" vibes in that moment). Simon notes whenever they argue he just has to lean in and Baz would close his eyes, waiting to be kissed. It’s clear for us that Baz wants it badly because we have access to his thoughts, but this might be the beginning of Baz starting to give away that he does: after Simon has already made it clear that he wants Baz back.

[givethemsmut]

Dom Mysterio x Reader

Chapter Two | Where it all started…

Shorter chapter incoming…

Expect some time jumps

Don’t own anything WWE 💪🏼

In no way, shape, or form do I edit. This story is for fun and entertainment purposes.

“Two days. Our flight is at 4 AM. Gives you time to dump the flavor of the week.” The bitterness in his voice hurt. 

“Dom. What we did- I’m sorry. Every second felt amazing, I just couldn’t commit. I was scared.”

“I haven’t been pinning, hermosa. You moved on and so did I. No hard feelings.” He was distant still, cold and vicious.

I knew about the other girls. All of them. He had made it his mission to parade them in front of me. He wanted to make sure I knew he had gotten his dick wet after me.

“No hard feelings? Tell your slut of the month to keep it down this time.” I said walking past him in my bikini as I climbed out of the hot tub. 

I wanted him to see every part of me he could. Dom followed me inside, dry as can be. “It’s not going to work, whatever bullshit you have planned. Parading around in practically nothing and rubbing your boyfriends in my face. It’s not going to make me feel bad.”

“Feel bad? We fucked, Dom. That’s not my fault you can’t get over it.” I shouted back. 

“You’re a fucking bitch for that. You wanna play games? We’ll play. Don’t come crying to me when it finally hurts the same way you hurt me.”

We had taken one leap forward just to hustle back to cruel. 

Dom had no idea there hadn’t been anyone else. No one. He just knew what it looked like and it looked like I was a slut but in reality those moans were faked and nothing went past feeling me up.

I deserved his cruelty tho so I took it like a champ.

Rey had got us a two bedroom condo only this time we didn’t share a bathroom. Dominik was kicking off training and everything WWE the very next day.

The frost melted between us enough for us to eat pizza in our mess of boxes. I wanted to badly to apologize but nothing could take back how I broke him heart.

Eventually we got over it, slowly and started being friends again. I even went to his practice matches and training sessions to support him. Our hormones and not having to share a bathroom truly helped, suddenly we could deal with that tension much easier.

I got meaningless jobs, here and there. Enough to pay for  living, rent if Rey would ever take it from me, which he declined more than once. Every penny I had went to stocking the fridge for Dom who was eating his body weight in food with the training burning extra calories.

We got extremely close again, inseparable most days and boundaries of friendship that made people uncomfortable. It made relationships hard to have and harder to keep. We both went through a period of less serious relationships with minimal risk to our friendship again.

We did have one slip up our twenties after getting drunk. None of it planned and all of it something that didn’t please his fling of the month. 

It was Randy Orton’s birthday, something we never thought we would be invited to but a lot of the roster was so we went. Dom hardly knew anyone and I was just as invisible, only I had boobs that distracted everyone. Least the horny men traveling almost the whole year. No one expected Dom to have anyone with him. He was new, inexperienced, and hadn’t paid any dues in their eyes. It was bullshit. He was the hardest working man I knew who wasn’t letting his dad’s legacy determine anything for him. If I could do anything it was making people believe he was someone before they knew him.

I put in a skin tight dress, a black thong and jean jacket that all fit every curve of my body perfect. Linking arms with Dom I could feel the respect climb the more people saw my hand in his. “Just trust me, okay? You’re gonna leave this party a superstar.”

“Why am I scared right now?” He laughed and smiled but held me closer.

Laughing into his chest I handed the bouncer our invite and breezed by without stopping. That was the night I met Randy, who was married still and raising a toddler. I had no business entertaining his flirting. I had no business letting myself be turned on by the entire night enough to convince Dom to fuck me for the second time.

The head of WWE made his way over to us, extending his hand and introducing himself. “Vince, who are you son?”

I stepped in, “Dominick Mysterio, future of WWE, respectfully.”

Vince laughed placing his hand on my arm and I was prepared to valid every rumor if it meant Dom’s hard work was paying off. “You have balls.”

“Enough to convince you to see what he can do? He’s not his dad, he’s better.”

Dominik’s hands smoothed around my waist, nuzzling his face in my hair, finding my ear. “Mi amore, he’s the owner. Slow down.”

“No one is gonna hand you anything, Dom. You have to want it enough to take it.” 

I smiled, forcing him to talk shop when his hand smoothed down my ass before squeezing. “Remember that later.”

Dom was a flirt, a great talker, dedicated to making it in the same industry his dad did. I was proud of him. 

Talking him up to everyone I let him touch me like I was his at least for the night. When we went back to our condo it was hard to turn it off when he cradled my hips asking me, “Why do you believe in me so much?”

“Because I know you. No more deserves it more.”

The way his mouth covered mine, determined to take me right along with his dreams felt out of my control. I wanted him even tho I shouldn’t have. 

Yanking my dress up to my waits he dipped down to his knee in the middle of the living room. Draping my leg over his shoulder I whimpered in desperation. “Dom. We shouldn’t.”

“Don’t say it. I already know. It’s a mistake. No one finds their soul mate at fourteen. I’ve heard it. I’m not asking you to marry me. I’m asking you to fuck my tongue.”

That’s all he had to say for me to melt and make that mistake all over again.

[002yb]

Hi Toney, I am so happy that you're feeling better, I got a bit worried when I didn't see any new posts from you.

What do you feel about Jason's reaction to Jaybin getting displaced in the timeline and popping multiple years in the future, and suddenly there is Jaybin and all of his barely hidden hero worship and utter love for Dick. And Dick is so good to him, and so smitten and Jaybin is so precious and blushy and two steps away from fainting every time dick hugs him or ruffles his hair, and Jason is so jealous cause dick is being better to Jaybin than he ever was to Jason in the past. But they're both Jason!!

#i am really happy to see you again on my feed #hopefully I'm not coming off as rude #curse you ADHD

Hey there, thank you for your concerns!  Though I’m sure it’s apparent, the posting is still lacking – sorry about that.  I appreciate that you like seeing my posts come across your dash though.  Thank you so much. ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡

Jason being put off by Jaybin because 1) he’s treated better than Jason, 2) he’s envious of the positive attention freely given to him and 3) Jaybin is stupidly naive and Jason knows there’s only disappointment waiting for him; he’s just waiting to get taken advantage of and hurt.

What’s more, he’s insecure.  Because Jason has always had this belief that everyone preferred who he was to who he is.  This experience only confirms that for him.

Needless to say, Jason is terse when Jaybin is around.  He’s not kind at all; par for course though – it’s him, at the end of the day

And it’s not like Jaybin complains about Jason’s aggression, confused as he is (because wtf happened?  why is he such a bitch??), but Dick notices and is none too pleased.

Which leads to dickjay fights as Dick comes to Jaybin’s defense

And Jason just loses it because insecurity gets the best of him.  Because he’s convinced that he’s no good as he is.  That’s why they’re all always fighting, why Jason is always toeing lines and watching his back.  Because he came back wrong – twisted.

Maybe it would have been better if Jason stayed dead.  Because they could have kept Jaybin and not been burdened with the scraps that came back.

Maybe Jaybin hears it:  ‘We die?’

And Jason snarls, all bared teeth, a wounded animal pushed into a corner:  ‘Yeah, because you were looking for something you’ll never fucking have,’ and despite himself Jason’s voice breaks because, ‘Family.  Love.  Grow the fuck up.’

What’s to love?  What’s to want?

Just Jason being so cruel to his younger self because he hates how dumb he was.  But also?  He hates how easy it is for Jaybin to trust and love and be loved.  Because Jason doesn’t have that.  Not anymore.

And Dick is ready to intervene.  He doesn’t know if he wants to snap at Jason for being so cruel to a child (himself!) or if he wants to comfort him because Jason is wrong about his perceived lack of value/worth, but also?  He wants to throw down because this dumbass – projecting his own feelings over Dick’s.  But then again, reevaluating everything because maybe Dick (and everyone) haven’t been as forthcoming or forgiving as they should have been.

So Dick ends up being paralyzed because Jason is volatile and Dick can take him in a fight, but that’s the thing – he can’t fight him in light of Jason’s despair.  He doesn’t know how to comfort him though.  Doesn’t know how to– fuck.  Doesn’t know how to love him.

A devastating realization that takes the fight right out of him.

But it’s fine, because Jaybin is there to throw down.  With that ornery brand of kindness that is uniquely Jason.  Just Jaybin being able to read Jason because they’re the same.  Because Jason hasn’t changed as much as he thinks from back when he was fifteen and hurting.

Something something Jason’s vulnerabilities being exposed by himself.  A weird therapy of sorts with confronting past and present.

Which eventually leads to dickjay.  In the form of one of the Jasons blurting out about their crush on Dick and that’s when everything stops because uh oh.  Both Jasons turning with matching blushes and flustered expressions at where Dick stands off to the side, wide-eyed and overwhelmed because there’s just a lot going on, y’know?

And yeah, eventually Jason reconciles with his past self.  Maybe Jaybin would get a kiss from Dick before Jason ever gets a chance and Jason is left blustering because why the hell is he such a cheeky little bitch, omg. ///A/////

Which leaves Dick and Jason with the fallout of everything.  And Jason doesn’t want to do any of it; forget it.  Only Dick won’t leave it alone.  No attention would be given to the crush, but Dick would make sure Jason knows that he’s loved.  And he’d make better efforts in showing it.  And being more understanding to Jason’s perspective; being in his corner.

During which time Jason falls in love a lot more because he’s so weak to kindness.  And Dick’s heart breaks because it’s not anything at all (only it is and he knows that now).

Something something slow burn healing of relationship which leads into a tentative friendship which leads into a strong partnership and eventually that undying crush gets addressed lol.

[samcarpentersgirlfriend]

Hi!!!! could you please do some headcanons on what fake dating mickey altieri would be like?

hi sorry for disappearing for like two months, I got super busy but I’m back!!

MICKEY ALTIERI AS YOUR FAKE BOYFRIEND 𖤐₊˚.

warnings: just swearing i think

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

- you’re prepared to give mickey a whole speech about all the reasons he should take this seriously and fake date you, and you’re half expecting him to shut you down in the first thirty seconds

- what you don’t anticipate is him barely letting you finish your question before responding with a simple “sure thing” with absolutely no questions asked before he fully launches back into whatever it was he was saying before

- you ask him about this later one and he eventually says “you asked ‘cause you wanted my help, right? none of my damn business why.”

- none of his friend group even batted an eyelid when you announced you were “dating” - which may or may not have made you question things

- most of them just wondering what took the pair of you so damn long

- mickey’s such a flirt anyway that not much changes between the two of you - apart from more physical touch

- and trust me, there’s a lot of that

- even though mickey’s already someone who’s comfortable with physical contact, it’s like he dials it up to 11: if his arm isn’t constantly fixed to your waist or shoulders, then it’s in your pocket, resting on your back or your thigh, ect.

- speaking of flirting, he’ll tone down the flirting with other people and just crank it up with you instead

- he delivers the worst lines you’ve heard but does it with that boyish grin and all around charm that somehow makes them work in a way they have no right to

- goes absolutely crazy with the pet names, 50% just to be a little shit and be purposely obnoxious, and 50% to see what sticks and what you actually like

- you walk on him watching corny romcom movies in what you assume is preparation and although mickey futilely tries to play it off, you’re not fooled

- eventually you just have to promise to never mention in front of anyone - it would apparently totally destroy his credibility when it comes to “real cinema”

- semi-related, but he’d be the kind for a big “grand” gesture - think showcasing a film all about you to grab people’s attention and really sell everything - its a quintessential college movie trope

- drags you to parties that he wants to go to, and convinces you to dance with him - purely for the sake of realism, of course

- enjoys scaring off other guys that try and hit on you at said parties - he doesn’t even say any anything overtly threatening, he’ll either just make passive aggressive comments or just stare until they get the hint

- you honestly just think he’s having way too much fun with it but you’re willing to let it slide - his intentions are mostly good

- if you go out to an actual bar, mickey absolutely doesn’t let you spend a dime (which you think is strange, since it doesn’t make a difference to your fake relationship. still, you appreciate the gesture).

- a few of your friends think he’s at least a little bit of a dick but he treats you so well that they can’t complain

- which again, mickey loves - he is nothing if not a petty little bitch

- when your hanging out with somebody who genuinely thinks the two of you are dating, mickey will often call you to “check up” on you and make sure you’re okay

- has no problem with saying that he loves you, and makes sure to say it before he says goodbye (but he says it so easily and it sounds so genuine and it makes you wonder…)

- will casually be talking to you in the hallway before class, but when he sees one of your friends coming he’ll slowly and deliberately pull you into a kiss

- you can’t help but be disappointed when he pulls back with a wink and a grin

- brings you lunch after class, which everybody finds sickeningly sweet and makes mickey look like the perfect boyfriend - which is pretty accurate, without, you know, it being a “real” relationship and all

- derek, randy and hallie tease him for how you’ve “softened” him - and if you see swear you see mickey blush, well, that’s either here nor there