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littledovesnow · 4 months

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a growing family pt. 2

a/n: yay for part 2!! read part one here

word count: 1.8k

warnings: pregnancy, pretty canon-level violence and stuff i think. also i'm sorry in advance about this part <3

-----

"Now, Mr. Snow, you and your wife leave tomorrow for your District Tour." Lucky Flickerman spoke into microphone, eyes bouncing between Coriolanus and you.

Coriolanus nodded, not quite sure where this was going. He was briefed on the. main topics that Flickerman would go over during the interview and this was not one of them.

"Is there any worry about the twins? Congratulations, by the way! Twins! How lucky are you!"

You smiled, patting your husband's hand to signal that you would answer this question.

"Thank you, Lucky," you started, sweet smile on your face. "I've been in conversation with my medical team, and we've all come to an agreement that it's quite safe for me to travel with Coriolanus and the rest of his cabinet. I'm not due for another couple of months, anyway."

Coriolanus smiled at you, voicing his answer, as well. "We've also spoken to the OB/GYN, and she will be joining us on the latter half of the tour. We hope she can just enjoy the travel, not needed for any medical emergencies."

Lucky nodded, satisfied with that answer. "Now, Coriolanus, you've mentioned in some changes to the Hunger Games in the coming years. We've had questions coming in from watchers, but first, a few words from our generous sponsors."

The red light went off on top of the cameras, and you let the superficial smile fall from your face, hand going to rub your lower back.

"Your back still hurt, love?" Coriolanus asked, noticing your discomfort.

"I think our kids are going to be soccer professional, Coryo." You grumbled, one of the twins had been kicking mercilessly for a few weeks.

Coriolanus chuckled, removing your hand, using his palm to massage the area. "Well, you can tell them off when they're out here."

Lucky, who had been observing the couple from his spot on the seat across from them, wore a smile. "One thing that my wife asked I do when she was pregnant with Caesar was massage her back every night. Sometimes she still makes me do it."

You smiled at the TV host, humming. "Not a bad idea. Coryo, I think I know what your next job will be."

Coriolanus snorted, hand still massaging your back. "Anything for the mother of my children."

-----

The train car you were currently seated in was more luxurious than you remembered, seats having been upholstered from your last trip out of the Capitol.

You looked away from the mountain ranges decorating the horizon when the door opened, Coriolanus entering.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, coming to sit in the seat across from you, moving your feet from the seat to his lap.

Humming, you leant your head back as he began massaging them. "Better now. What was that meeting for? I thought you had travel days free."

Coriolanus pondered over how to answer, not wanting to tell you he had just had some rebels executed for a potential threat in Six. "Nothing you need to concern yourself with."

Opening an eye to look at him, you could read the man like an open book. "How many were there?"

There was a beat of silence before Coriolanus spoke up.

"Four. Would have been three but some things you can't avoid."

You didn't reply, simply wiggling your foot when Coriolanus' hands stopped massaging the arch of your foot.

He laughed, resuming the action as you two watched the mountain ranges and nature outside of the train.

-----

You yawned, staring at the ceiling of the Crane's hotel in District Three. It was nearing one in the morning, and you had gotten a sum total of about two and a half hours since you and Coriolanus crawled into the bed.

Moving as quietly as you could, you rose from the bed, waiting a beat to see if Coriolanus woke up.

His rather loud snore told you he was still off dreaming, something you were thankful for. He had a lot on his shoulders, and you didn't want to add onto the never-ending pile of worry and stress with the upcoming election.

Moving to the bathroom, you softly closed the door and looked at yourself in the mirror. The twins had been keeping you up at night more frequently, and your OB/GYN said it was just because while they were starting to get a regular sleep pattern, they couldn't tell day from night and often slept during the day.

When you opened the door, you frowned when you saw your husband sitting up in the bed, cheek still indented from the creases in the pillow.

"What are you doing up?" He asked, voice hoarse from sleep.

Rubbing one hand across your ever-growing bump, sleepily blinking at the man across from you. "Your children are wide awake, it seems."

Coriolanus smiled, patting the spot you had previously occupied. "Come here, I'll rub your back."

With the promise of that, you made your way back into the bed, stuffing one of the many pillows on the bed between your knees.

"Oh, well hello, little one."

You looked at where Coriolanus was staring at your bump, tiny foot barely visible. "Oh that's the most disturbing thing I think I've ever seen."

"Don't say that!" Coriolanus chided, though there was a smile on his face. "That's your child in there!"

"Coryo, you shouldn't be able to see their hands from outside!" You laughed, even though your OB/GYN said it was very possible to start to see little hands and feet as there became less and less free space.

Coriolanus pressed a kiss to your hairline, rubbing the place where the foot was. "Hi, babies. Please let your mother sleep, she needs to help me win over the hearts of Panem."

Rolling your eyes, you moved Coriolanus' hand to your back, letting your head fall back against a pillow. "Rub my back."

"Yes dear."

-----

Hand clasped tightly in Coriolanus' you two followed the Peacekeepers to the barracks to meet with the district's mayor and Commanding Peacekeeper.

You two had won the hearts over a majority of each District you've visited, but as you two traveled farther from the Capitol, you knew it would be more difficult and the chance of threats and rebels increased.

The number of Peacekeepers surrounding you two had grown within each stop, Coriolanus wanting to make sure nothing happened to his wife and mother of his children, his heirs.

"Mr. and Mrs. Snow, we're very pleased you two could be here!" The mayor smiled, shaking both of your hands.

You returned the sentiment, eyes locked on the plush-looking chair behind him. "Is it alright if I sit? My feet are killing me."

The mayor, who seemed to have just realized how large your bump had grown, nodded quickly, gesturing to the chair you had pointed to.

Coriolanus stood behind you, one hand smoothing your hair as he and the mayor discussed the afternoon's speeches and tour around the main hub.

"Will you be joining us, Mrs. Snow?"

"No, she's been feeling a little more tired." Coriolanus replied before you could speak up.

The mayor frowned, seemingly disappointed.

"Is there a problem?" You asked, feeling Coriolanus' hand still at the nape of your neck.

"Well, the children here have been so excited to meet you, but I'm sure seeing Mr. Snow will be just as fine."

Coriolanus knew you had a soft spot for children, how they still saw the best in everything. "Love, you barely slept last night. It's safer if you rest."

"Coryo, it won't be too long. And besides, we have a couple travel days I can catch up on sleep."

You ignored your husband's deep frown, instead smiling at the mayor. "We can't possibly let the kids down, can we?"

The mayor clapped happily, rising from his seat. "Well then, shall we go?"

You stood from the chair with some help from your husband, who placed a hand on your lower back, unable to keep his hands off of you.

"You're a spoiled brat, you know that?" He whispered, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"And you love me for it." You replied, sharp smile on your face.

-----

Coriolanus watched as you followed a few of the schoolchildren around the classroom, letting them explain the backgrounds of their various posters and projects.

"She's going to be a wonderful mother." The mayor spoke, standing next to Coriolanus.

He nodded, watching you kneel down to listen more to a rather small girl, your eyes focused on her entirely. "She already is."

"Mr. Snow, Mayor, we're going to be late if we don't head for the town square now."

Nodding, Coriolanus walked over to your side, kneeling down next to you and the young girl. "Hi, love. Mind introducing me to your friend?"

You looked at your husband, and then at the young girl. "Coryo, meet Clementine. Her friends call her Clemmie."

Coriolanus saw the twinkle in your eye as you looked back at the girl. "It's lovely to meet you, Clemmie. You know, Mrs. Snow and I have a friend named Clemmie."

"Really?" Little Clementine asked, eyes wide.

Nodding, Coriolanus helped you stand up straight. "We do, but don't worry, we can have two Clemmies. Now, I do have to steal Mrs. Snow now, we have to go to town square."

Clementine pouted, but nodded. "It was nice to meet you!"

"You, too, Clemmie! Good luck with your new brother!" You smiled, squeezing Coriolanus' hand as the two of you followed some Peacekeepers out of the school and down to the town square and stage.

You've only seen the stage on television for the Reaping Ceremonies, it looked larger on screen. "She was so sweet, Coryo. She was telling me how her mother looked like me and now she has a little brother."

Coriolanus smiled, thumb rubbing your hand. "That's very sweet. I'm sure you made her ent-"

A loud explosion cut Coriolanus off, Peacekeepers immediately springing into action, separating the two of you to get you both to safety.

There were a few more explosions around the stage, sending debris and dirt in the air.

"Coryo!" You called, trying to wriggle out of the Peacekeepers' grip and find your husband.

You coughed as you inhaled smoke, eyes wide to spot Coriolanus. "Let me go! I need to find Coriolanus!"

"Ma'am, you need to come with us! We have orders to bring both you and Mr. Snow to a safe room, please cooperate."

You had a disdain for the Peacekeeper who spoke to you rather harshly, feeling his hands tighten their grip on your bicep.

Stumbling a few times, you had finally made it to the small bunker, heart hammering when you saw Coriolanus and the mayor already in there, dirt on both of their faces and clothing.

"Love," Coriolanus sighed in relief, though it was short-lived as he ran his eyes over your body. "Love, you're bleeding."

-----

a/n: oh how i love a good cliff-hanger

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x reader #hunger games imagine #coriolanus x you #hunger games x reader #hunger games tbosas #coriolanus snow

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dirtyvulture · 24 days

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Envy and Venom

Heiress!Natasha Romanoff x CEO!Beefy!Fem!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Summary: You are the notorious playboy who just inherited one of the biggest tech companies in the world. Your first move? Sleeping with the heiress of your rival company.

Word count: 4190

AN: Randomly came up with this idea, it's a little different than my other stuff, but give it a read. :)

DAY 1

“You couldn’t have picked a better person for the job,” you tease, gripping tightly onto your father’s hand as the sea of flashing lights fifteen feet away practically blinds you. The reporters call out for your attention but you ignore them, pausing in the awkward, hand-holding pose with your father so the photo can be plastered across the front page of news outlets around the world.

“I trust you. Don’t ruin what I’ve started,” your father says, grabbing onto your shoulder and pulling you into a tight embrace. “And please try to keep your…escapades…a little more under wraps, okay?” he whispers into your ear.

“I’ll try, Dad,” you say, but it isn’t really your fault that the public was so interested in what goes on in your bedroom. Then again, you hadn’t exactly been trying to be subtle when you were fucking your secretary against the penthouse window of your apartment, but people should try to mind their own business more.

Your father pushes you back and the two of you turn in unison to wave at the crowd once more.

“Congratulations!” you hear them echoing. “To Envy Industries’ new CEO, Y/N!”

***********************************************************************

Naturally, to celebrate your latest achievement, you host the party of the century, inviting other world-renowned millionaires, fellow tech company gurus, actors, singers, celebrities, and pretty much anyone else who fit society’s thinly-veiled description of “famous.” You initially show up with two models you had already spent the afternoon with, but you weren’t interested in stringing them along and were excited to find some new target to chase after.

The first hour alone is spent wading through faces you recognize from online but have no personal connection with, and you have to pretend that you’re grateful when they take enough interest and ask about the future of your company.

“We’ll probably stick to the production of GPUs for a while,” you say, yelling to be heard over the music and rumble of people. “We just signed a huge contract with Tesla, so we’ll be supplying all the hardware they need for their next products. They have a big need for AI software, and we’re one of the few companies that can build exactly what they need.”

“Wow, that’s very impressive.” The short-haired blonde woman suddenly throws herself at you, her nails digging into your bicep so hard you can feel the prick through your burgundy silk jacket.

“Thank you.” You’re not sure you’ve ever seen this woman before in your life and you wonder if she even understood half of what you were saying or she was just trying to get into your pants.

“I’m Carol, by the way. Do you want to get a drink?”

“I would never say no to a drink.” You let Carol lead you to the bar (that you are footing the bill for) and she orders for you, picking an old-fashioned cocktail for you. A decent choice, but if she had read your interview in The Chief Executive Magazine, she would have known that your favorite drink was actually a vodka martini. You join her at an empty table.

“So, what do you do for a living?” you ask out of politeness, taking a sip and letting the whiskey burn your throat.

“I’m an influencer,” Carol says. “I have one-point-seven million followers on Tik Tok right now. I mostly post fitness routines or travel vlogs. And I also stream video games on Twitch.”

“Ah.” Now it’s your turn to act like you’re impressed when you have no idea what she’s talking about.

Carol drones on about her next project, which involves a collaboration with another influencer you’ve never heard of. Your eyes scan the people walking by, looking for a new object of infatuation. It doesn’t take long until you make eye contact with a beautiful, redheaded woman, her voluptuous body hugged by an emerald green dress. Immediately, your heart rate spikes as you scan her up and down, not predatorily, but admiringly. The neckline of her dress plunges down to her belly button, a tasteful hint of her cleavage showing through, highlighted by a long silver necklace with a thin gold bar tassel.

You perk up, smoothing your hair back and puffing out your chest like a proud pigeon when she starts walking over.

“Congratulations,” the redhead says. “Your family must be very proud of you.”

“My dad didn’t want to give it to me,” you admit, completely oblivious to Carol’s pout as you instantly give your attention to this new woman. “But I convinced him the company would be in good hands.”

“I bet.”

“Can I get you a drink?” you ask, desperate to keep around for the conversation (and perhaps more).

“I should be the one treating you,” the redhead says. She takes the cocktail out of your hands and brings it to her lips. “Hmm. I didn’t think this was your taste,” she notes. “How does a vodka martini sound?”

You know instantly this is the woman you’re taking home with you tonight. “That sounds delightful.”

***********************************************************************

You ditch Carol without a second thought and follow the redhead back to the bar, where she picks up two vodka martinis. She brings you to a private booth, sitting so close to you that your knees are touching hers. You can almost feel her body heat through the fabric of your clothes.

“To Envy Industries’ long and prosperous future,” she says, raising her drink in a toast.

“Cheers.” You clink your glass to hers and drink half of it in one long sip, smiling in satisfaction. “I didn’t catch your name,” you say.

“Natasha.” It sparks a familiar memory, a name you’ve heard before. But she’s so intoxicating that you give it no second thought. Natasha is one of the most gorgeous women you’ve ever seen in your life and you can’t believe she’s sitting here talking to you and you alone.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” you say, formally offering her your hand. She shakes it, and you gently bring her hand up to your lips to kiss her knuckles.

“Likewise,” she says, crossing one perfectly toned leg over the other, her foot nudging the back of your calf. “Not to eavesdrop, but I overheard you mention a contract with Tesla. Say what you want about that company, but you can’t deny the evidence that they’re one of the highest valued companies in the world. I wouldn’t be surprised if Envy Industries is soon up there with them.”

“Exactly.” Your interest in this woman skyrockets, because you know she isn’t bullshitting you. She isn’t like Carol. She knows what she’s talking about.

“We’ve been trying to strike deals with the automotive industry for years,” Natasha goes on, “But you’ve beat us to it. And now that you’ve partnered up with Tesla, you’re basically unstoppable.”

“Not quite,” you correct, now unable to stop yourself from unraveling the schemes of your company’s next five years. “Our research on artificial intelligence is just getting started. We just applied for ten new patents within computing technologies and we’re on track to absolutely dominate the market for discrete graphics processing units by the end of the year.”

Natasha grins at your enthusiasm and you feel yourself blush in embarrassment. You know the media often labeled you as stupid, reckless, irresponsible, unfit to lead, and constantly bashed your sexual appetite, but you were all those things and a technology genius. Your father had built this company from the ground up, but you had been there alongside him the past six years. While everyone classified your promotion to CEO as nepotism, you felt you had rightfully earned it.

“I don’t know how you do it,” she comments.

“Well, it definitely wouldn’t be wise for the new CEO to be giving away all the secrets, now would it?” you chuckle, even though you’ve definitely already said more than you should’ve.

“Your success is no trade secret.” Natasha turns her whole body to face you. The attention she’s giving you is almost more than you can bear. Your heart pounds against your chest. No woman has ever made you this excited before. “But if you want, maybe we can go somewhere a little more private, where you can share whatever else you’d like.”

“Hmm.” It was rare for another woman to be so bold with you. But you’ve never lusted after another woman like Natasha before. Arousal heats up in your stomach as Natasha leans forward, resting her hand on your thigh and squeezing it teasingly. Her breath fans over your face and you can smell the vodka and her cherry lipstick. You lean forward to meet her, moving like you’re in a dream, fireworks sparking in the back of your head the moment your lips touch.

Suddenly, you’re overcome with the carnal desire to drag this woman up to your penthouse and have her squirming underneath you, crying out your name as she comes undone.

“Um, would you like to…” You can hardly think straight. “My room…apartment…is upstairs…if you want to…”

“Show me the way,” Natasha says, standing up and offering you her hand.

***********************************************************************

Your brain is swirling in a fog as you follow Natasha to the elevator. You don’t even register any of the people you pass, fully aware of the fact that someone will report this headline to the National Enquirer, at the very least. But all the worries of the future disappear the moment the elevator doors close and Natasha throws herself at you, her legs hooking around your narrow waist and her heels digging into the small of your back. Your hands support her supple bottom, squeezing in appreciation as her lips crash against yours in a desperate frenzy.

You stumble into the wall, smashing your hand onto the top floor button and feeling the elevator start to rise, but not fast enough.

“Lucky me,” Natasha pants between kisses. “Getting to go home with the newly-christened CEO of Envy Industries.”

“You’re the most beautiful woman here tonight,” you respond, heat rising between your legs. “Of course you were coming home with me.”

Natasha glows with the praise and pulls your head into her chest, where you instinctively lick and nip at the flesh of her exposed breasts and she keens at the attention. When the elevator doors open again, you stumble out with her still in your arms, your feet automatically taking you down the path to your apartment. Thankfully, your apartment door opens automatically when your key card is in range, so you’re able to kick it open with your foot, without having to put her down.

You carry her straight to the bedroom, dropping her on the freshly-changed sheets you had housekeeping put on after you were done with the two models from earlier. You can hardly remember your time with them and your body is practically vibrating in anticipation like you haven’t had sex in years. You crawl on top of Natasha, lowering yourself to kiss her again, this time with more passion and her arms snake over your broad back, pressing your body against hers.

“I need to get you out of this dress,” you pant, desperate for skin-to-skin contact with her.

“You first,” she says, releasing you as you sit up, yanking off your jacket and throwing it to the floor. You’re annoyed at your choice of shirt, a white button-up that has way too many buttons, as you impatiently pop them off one at a time and remove your bra. Natasha watches you with hunger in her eyes and you’ve never felt more proud to reveal yourself to another partner. The daily, painful 2-hour visits to the gym and strict adherence to a customized diet showed in your chiseled physique, your biceps bulging like you had baseballs under your skin, your perfect washboard abs, and your thighs were sturdier than tree trunks.

“Fuck,” she mutters, reaching up to run her hand across your abs like she can’t believe you’re really in front of her. “I could look at you all day.”

It’s a common reaction most people have, but it definitely heats you up more when it comes from Natasha. “Your turn, gorgeous.”

She sits up and turns around so you can access the zipper of her dress. You sweep her hair to the side, stealing a kiss to her neck because you really can’t help yourself. Natasha hums in appreciation and you lower her zipper slowly. Her dress pools at her waist like a glimmering green puddle. She isn’t wearing a bra so your hands immediately gravitate to cup her breasts, and she arches her back against your bare chest.

“Are you gonna fuck me the same way you do to every girl you have in here?” she asks, placing one of her hands over yours and guiding it down her stomach, where your fingers part through her soaking folds.

“If you want me to,” you say, pressing deeper into her and she whines at your touch. “But I’ll give you whatever you want.” Normally, you enjoy being in full control in the bedroom, but you are absolutely willing to give that up if it pleases Natasha.

She suddenly pushes your hand away from her center; you can still feel traces of her stickiness on your fingers. “Do you have a strap? I want to ride you.”

Your stomach flips at the thought of her on top of you, grinding down on you until she finishes. Her heaving bosom in your face for you to suck and kiss while she enjoys the orgasm you gave her.

“Yeah, let me grab it.” While you launch yourself off the bed to go fishing around your nightstand drawer, Natasha nudges her dress to the floor and delicately removes her long necklace, settling back comfortably on your king-sized bed while she waits for you. You take off your pants and pull the harness over your waist, turning back to the mouth-watering sight of her naked and ready for your taking. Her body is toned and curved in all the right places: clearly, she respected her body as much as you did to yours. There are few things you love more than a woman who takes care of herself.

You climb back onto the bed and Natasha pounces on you while you’re still getting into position, holding onto your biceps to pin you down. You catch sight of her glimmering wetness as she drags herself along your abs, pressing back against your cock until it rubs against her butt. You reach over to grab the bottle of lube always present on your nightstand and squirt a generous glob onto your strap, not that it looks like Natasha will need it.

“Look how wet you are. You’ve been waiting for this all night, sweetheart?” you tease, your hands running up and down her sides. Natasha takes you by surprise when she shoves you back against the headboard.

“Shut up and let me fuck you,” she growls, her voice dangerously dropping an octave. Natasha lifts herself up to line herself with the head of your cock and slides down in one move. The slick noise as it fills her is downright sinful. Your big hands wrap around her tiny waist, guiding her to bounce in an aggressive rhythm as the two of you watch your cock disappear inside of her.

“Fuck, Y/N,” she moans, throwing her head back, red hair spilling over her shoulders. “That feels so good.”

“Look how well you’re taking me,” you praise, your hips jerking up to match her rhythm. Even though you can’t necessarily feel it, you swear her pussy is clenching around the toy, greedily sucking you in and requiring physical effort to pull out. Your own clit is throbbing as the toy bumps it every time Natasha slams down on your thighs.

“Deeper, babe. Go deeper,” Natasha begs, moving her hands from your shoulders to the headboard, grabbing it so firmly you hear the wood crack. You change the angle of your hips, punching them up to satisfy her command. The bed frame creaks and shakes; you know your father would be unhappy to hear he has to order you a new one so soon, but you can’t be bothered to care right now.

“Fuck, right there. That’s it,” Natasha moans, rolling her hips with such fluidity it makes your stomach clench. She looks down at you, admiring the flex of your muscles as you do your best to please her, a singular bead of sweat running over your collarbone and sliding down between your breasts.

“I’m close. I’m almost fucking there,” she warns, her hips beginning to lose their rhythm. But you keep your intense pace, until your abs are cramping and you’re certain there are bruises on your thighs. Your own arousal burns like a ball of white-hot fire and you so desperately want to make this woman cum you will gladly ignore the ache of your own orgasm for hers.

“You’re fucking me too well, baby. I’m gonna lose it,” Natasha pants and the praise almost breaks your control. She throws her head back as she finishes and you bury your face in her heaving chest, tasting the sweat on her skin and sucking one of her nipples into your mouth. Her hand abandons the headboard to tangle in your hair, yanking almost painfully at your roots while you feel her cum spill onto your lap. She pushes your head away once she’s done, your lips parting from her nipple with a string of saliva, and lifts herself off your cock. The two of you are panting in unison, while you’re still fighting the simmer of arousal in your gut.

“Hmm, that was nice. Do you normally let your partner finish first?” she asks, resting her hands on your chest again. “I didn’t think you were the type.”

Your face burns in embarrassment because she’s not wrong. “Um…no,” you admit, knowing full well you could lie, but you feel like she’ll be able to see through it.

Natasha smirks. “Such a gentlewoman with me,” she says, bending over to kiss you, this time much more softly than before.

“Only for you,” you murmur back, shocked at how whipped you already are for her.

“You want me to help you finish?” Natasha asks, pushing the strap aside to brush her fingers across your hot center. Your hips jerk off the bed, almost launching Natasha into the air. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she giggles, climbing off your lap and helping you pull the strap off your waist. You’re practically frozen in anticipation, watching with bated breath as Natasha scoots herself down the bed and lowers her head between your legs.

You melt at the feeling of her mouth against your center, perfectly hot and wet. Your back arches off the bed when her tongue glides through your folds, lapping up the mixture of body fluids like it’s some kind life-saving elixir.

“Shit, baby, that feels amazing,” you moan, burying one of your hands in her red tresses, motioning with your hips that you want her deeper. She obliges by wrapping her lips around your clit and giving it a few hard sucks that have you seeing white stars behind your eyelids. You let go of her hair, afraid you’ll tear it out and grab onto the Egyptian cotton sheets tightly. Her tongue pushes into you and you swear you convulse around it, already leaking into her mouth when she’s only just started to go down on you.

Natasha’s arms wrap around your powerful thighs, trying to force them apart as you close them around her head. You don’t mean to put her in awkward, even dangerous position, but you can’t think about anything other than the pulsing in your center, soothed and encouraged by the heat of Natasha’s mouth. You dig your heels into the mattress to prevent yourself from bouncing across the bed at the rocking motion your body had adopted to maximize your pleasure. Every time her tongue slips into you, the muscles in your stomach contract so sharply it almost hurts, and when she laps at your clit, the stimulation is so great you feel immediately dizzy.

“Natasha,” you pant, unable to hold out any longer. “I’m gonna…Please let me…”

She presses into you with even more enthusiasm than before and your body seizes as you release yourself into her mouth. Natasha eagerly collects all your slick, her red lipstick smeared on the insides of your thighs.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you moan, feeling your high is going to last forever. But just the sensations start to fizz, you realize Natasha still has her iron grip on your legs, keeping them spread apart.

“I want another,” she demands, in a sultry tone that almost pulls the second orgasm from you right there.

“Natasha,” you whine, fearing you are too sensitive to deliver her wishes. You twist your body back and forth, half-heartedly trying to free yourself. But Natasha won’t let you, lowering her head to your heat and taking what she wants. Overly stimulated, every muscle in your body goes rigid as fireworks of pleasure, bordering the line of painful, explode inside of you. Natasha’s tongue somehow reaches even deeper than she had the first time, the tip pressing against your front ridged wall and you lose it for the second time in minutes.

“Oh, fuck!” you cry, your back arching off the bed but Natasha holds your waist down, determined to not let a drop of your essence go to waste. Your head is spinning and your body is like a live wire of excitement, twitching and trembling until you have no more energy left and and you melt into a limp mess.

Natasha kisses up your abs, between your breasts and licks at the column of your sweaty throat. Her lips finally connect with yours and you can taste a hint of yourself mixed with hers. You can’t wait to taste her straight from the source, but it’s going to take a bit of time to find the strength to move after two back-to-back orgasms. She wraps her arms around your torso, nuzzling into the side of your chest and inhaling deeply.

There is a long, but not uncomfortable silence as you two of you find your breath.

“I’m not letting you leave until you sit on my face,” you finally say. Natasha looks up at you with a satisfied grin.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” she says, crawling up so she can do just that.

***********************************************************************

The moment Natasha made eye contact with you, she knew you were done for. You were far too predictable. She knew exactly the kind of woman you chased after. She knew what she needed to say to catch your attention, to convince you that she deserved a private moment with you.

You were too easy.

When you were so busy looking at her lips, trying to figure out when the right moment to kiss her was, you didn’t notice her take your phone out of your pocket, plug a flash drive into the charging slot, and return it back to your pocket in record time.

As you carry her in the elevator, your face buried in her breasts while she slips a tiny audio recorder into the pocket of your blazer. Through the fog of pure lust for you, Natasha struggles to but succeeds in making a mental map of your apartment. Where your office is, how many computers you have.

After numerous orgasms, she’s sufficiently fucked your brains out and cuddled with you long enough for you to pass out into an impossibly deep slumber, she gets up and heads into your office. She doesn’t need more than five minutes to hack into your devices and steal all the data saved on them. She chuckles to herself at how easy the task is; if she had known it would’ve been this simple and enjoyable, she would’ve come after you a long time ago.

Natasha gathers all her things and excuses herself from your apartment without a good-bye.

***********************************************************************

DAY 2

When you wake up the next morning, your mind a haze from the absolute debauchery that occurred the previous night. You rub your eyes and roll over, finding yourself naked and alone in bed. There is a deep soreness in your body, in almost every muscle, and some you haven’t felt for a long time. Natasha’s scent of vanilla and cherry lingers, but she’s nowhere to be found.

“Fuck,” you grumble, reaching for your phone on the nightstand. It’s been blowing up with notifications, which is a little unusual, but you assume it’s mostly from friends still congratulating you on your promotion. You open a text from your best friend and work partner, Tony.

From Tony: You fucked up, dude.

He included a link to a TMZ article. You click on it, half-wondering if it’ll send you to some troll site. The headline reads:

New CEO of Envy Industries Y/N spotted getting cozy with Black Widow Corp. heiress Natasha Romanoff

Everything clicks to you now.

“Oh, fuck.”

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

AN: To be continued? 👀

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x female reader

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fyorina · 2 months

Text

ᡣ𐭩 YOU AND ME (ALWAYS FOREVER)!

FEATURING: dark era!dazai osamu

SUMMARY: more than friends, not quite lovers. that's been your relationship with dazai osamu for as long as you can remember. you didn't want to push him, and you gave him plenty of chances, but there's only so long you can wait for someone. you thought you would be better off moving on—you were wrong, of course. (wordcount: 4.8k; sfw; angst (???) but with a happy ending)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: dark era dazai </3 my heart, i got a sudden urge to write for him and i wanted it to be fluff but then i got this idea and just had to go with it (warnings: fem!reader, smoking & drinking, suicide attempt mentions)

In your defense, you were never dating Dazai Osamu.

Not for a lack of trying on your part, of course. You’ve made your interest in him clear since you met him at sixteen during the Dragon’s Head Conflict, when Mori Ougai pulled you back from where you were stationed in Kyoto dealing with his associates to help with the declining situation in Yokohama. And you’d thought he felt similarly to you. You really did. The two of you had become inseparable within weeks of knowing each other, such a swift and strong connection that it almost felt unreal. You’d heard rumors of him, of course, before coming back to Yokohama—the infamous Demon Prodigy that Mori had brought in and groomed into becoming his heir, ruthless and cold and so terrifyingly intelligent that he had the entire upper echelon of the Port Mafia on edge.

By the time you got back to Yokohama, he’d already taken the Colonel’s place as an executive—a shame, really, the Colonel was always your favorite of Mori’s five executives, he always brought you gifts when he came to visit you in Kyoto. But he never really felt like the monster that everyone claimed him to be.

He and Nakahara Chuuya had been the one sent to retrieve you from Yokohama Station, an area very close to the heart of the gang conflict, and even from the first meeting, he’d always been… well, you’re not going to say normal because he’s not normal. He’s always had an unnerving air about him, eyes a bit too cold and dark, smile a bit too teethy, but he’s always come across as just another kid your age. Maybe a bit lonelier than most, which could be off-putting to other people, but it never bothered you. And yes, you’ve seen the way other members of the Mafia treat him—they’re scared of him, go to extreme lengths so as to not cross paths with him, but you’ve never seen him in the same light they do.

Well, not until recently, at least.

Again. In your defense, you were never dating him.

But you’d known he cared about you as more than a friend. And you’d cared about him as more than a friend too. And you waited. You waited almost two years for him to say something. You didn’t want to do it yourself, you know Dazai is flighty and he’s not used to emotions, and you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but god, there’s only so much waiting you can take before you start to give up.

When the two year mark hit, you’d become convinced that Dazai was never going to act on his feelings for you; instead, he’d prefer to wait it out until they passed, and if they never did, he’d just pretend they didn’t exist at all. You can’t really blame him, the Mafia is not a place conducive for relationships, it’s only a matter of time before your luck runs out and one of you end up dead by a bullet through the head or captured by the enemy, and the thought of getting attached to someone only to lose them is enough to scare anyone away.

But you don’t want to live your life in fear, no matter how short it may be, and you also don’t want to live it alone. So when an opportunity arose at a cafe near the main headquarters, where you met a civilian around your age who showed immediate interest in you, you jumped on it. And it’d caught a lot of people off guard—Kouyou was surprised, Chuuya was baffled and questioning what a civilian could possibly have that interested you, even Mori gave you a double take and an odd look the first time he overheard Elise interrogating you about your new boyfriend.

But no one took it as poorly as Dazai.

Your throat feels tight as you remember the hurt expression that crossed over his face when you told him. It was so brief and so foreign of an expression to see on his face that you’d thought you’d imagined it, he was quick to school his expression back into a cold and closed-off one (one that he’d never directed toward you before that moment), but there was no mistaking the way the corner of his lip twitched and the way he suddenly couldn’t meet your eyes.

How nice, he’d told you, voice frighteningly icy, acidic, even, before he made a half-assed excuse about a mission that you knew he wasn’t assigned to. And it was so unlike him to offer himself up to handle missions, usually Mori has to force him with threats of giving Chuuya his executive position for him to do anything that makes him extend the barest amount of effort . But he did, and he handled it, very bloodily and uncharacteristically inefficient, as if he was releasing all of his pent up rage onto the unfortunate souls who happened to stumble into Port Mafia territory.

You were never, at any point, dating Dazai Osamu.

You think you’ve told yourself it hundreds of times over the past three months, throwing yourself into your work and enjoying a relationship with a boy who clearly was invested in you and cares about you in a way that Dazai Osamu would never allow himself to admit. You also think that Dazai Osamu has no right being as bitter and angry as he is—you gave him two years to come to terms with his feelings and make a move, you’ve made your own subtle hints that he promptly ignored. If he wanted to be with you, he blew his chance a hundredfold, and he can go screw off if he thinks he can be upset about it only after you’d found someone else.

Which is what he did, pretty much, and it was a lot harder than you expected—going from talking to him every waking second of every day, seeking him out whenever you have free time and vice versa, to only seeing him during the joint meetings between the executives and sub executives, where even then, he wouldn’t even spare you a glance. It was hard, and deep down, you don’t think being able to experience an actual relationship was worth losing your best friend, but the damage had already been done by that point, so you could only lie in the bed you made.

And you did enjoy the relationship. The boy you’d met was sweet. He was good. He was impressively smart—a government and law major at one of the most prestigious universities in this part of the country—and humble to a fault.

But he wasn’t Dazai.

You knew in your heart that you didn’t want sweet or good, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise. You didn’t want the type of smart that he was, top of his class and on track for law school, seeking out a job as a public defender in Tokyo. You wanted the type of smart Dazai was, wicked and devious, putting together vicious and efficient strategies to take down enemies of the Mafia, on track for taking over the position as boss in the future. You wanted him for all of his twisted moralities and questionable thoughts.

And it was unfair to you, and it was unfair to Dazai, and most importantly it was unfair to the boy you kept leading on, that you’ve refused to acknowledge this for as long as you have just for the chance of experiencing a real relationship.

Which is why you stand here now, outside the infamous Bar Lupin that you know Dazai has been drinking himself into oblivion at everyday for the past three months, notably single and possibly about to meet your end at the hands of a drunken and scorned Mafia executive.

You think you must look like a fool right now. You’ve been standing right outside the door in the rain for fifteen minutes debating on whether or not you should actually go in. You’re nervous, and that makes you sad because you’ve never been nervous to talk to Dazai before, and you’re not nervous because you’re scared of him, you’re nervous because you don’t think you have the balls to actually confront him, knowing that you’d genuinely hurt the boy that everyone claimed didn’t have the emotions to be hurt. He let you in when he doesn’t let anyone in, and you chose to be careless and you chose to give up, and you hurt him.

And you remind yourself again: you were not dating Dazai Osamu. You remind yourself that you gave him chances, he had opportunities, and he chose not to take them. You remind yourself that he’s just as at fault as you are for the falling out, but you can’t help but also remind yourself that he was the one that came out the most hurt by the situation. Yes, him cutting himself off from you was upsetting, but you didn’t have to watch him go around happy in a relationship with someone else. He did.

With that thought in mind, you push the door open to the bar. A soft bell rings above you and instantly, three heads swivel in your direction: the bartender, and two men that you recognize as Sakaguchi Ango, one of the Port Mafia’s special intelligence agents, and Oda Sakunosuke, who you only know through Dazai’s high praise of the man from when the two of you were still on speaking terms. The only person in the room who matters to you doesn’t even bother to look to see who entered the bar, one hand circling the glass of whiskey in front of him while a cigarette dangles from the other. You watch as he lifts it to his lips to take a long drag, head falling tilting back to look up at the ceiling as he exhales a cloud of smoke, seemingly unbothered by your presence.

Already, you feel as if you’ve made a mistake, but you force yourself to continue.

The bartender nods his head in respect to you, although you can’t help but notice he flashes a wary look to Dazai. You wonder, pitifully, how much he’s said about you in this place. Sakaguchi and Oda share a look with one another. Both of them speak a low murmur of your name, inclining their head dutifully—you’re not quite an executive yet, but with the Piano Man of the Flags dead, you and Chuuya are fighting for the next spot to open up. Chuuya will likely be the one to get it, which you think he deserves from all of the heavy lifting he’s done on operations the past two years, but you feel a bit awkward when they give you your due respect when you're here with your tail between your legs trying to talk to Dazai.

Sakaguchi and Oda take their leave when you arrive, giving short goodbyes to Dazai, telling them that they’ll see him another day, and the bartender makes a fumbled excuse about going to the back to restock, leaving you alone with Dazai. Internally, you wither just a bit because you think if they’d stayed, Dazai might keep a handle on himself because you know he views Oda highly; instead, they left you in the lion’s den alone. Which you might deserve, but you digress.

You let out a quiet puff of air as you make your way over to the bar stool next to Dazai, taking a seat in it carefully. Still, he doesn’t look at you, but you look at him and the aching in your chest returns tenfold as your gaze sweeps over him fully for the first time in months. During the joint meetings between the executives and sub-executives, you were always sure to keep your glances short and sweet, not wanting to risk any lingering looks, but now, you can look at him in his entirety for the first time since that fateful discussion three months ago.

He hasn’t changed much. Or, well, that’s a lie. He’s definitely changed. The circles beneath his eye are darker, his expression a carefully constructed blank mask. You think he might’ve lost some weight, his coat has always been big on him but the way it hangs over his shoulders now is looser than it was before. If it weren’t for the way his fingers were tense around his glass of whiskey, you’d have thought he was entirely unperturbed by your arrival.

You don’t know what to say, and you know you need to be the first to speak because you’re the one that showed up here to talk to him, but now that you’re sitting in front of him you’re floundering for words. You could just come out and say that you broke up with your boyfriend, but you feel like that would be a bit weird, and he’d probably laugh in your face and make a comment about how he doesn’t care. You could ask him how he’s been, but you think he might genuinely put a bullet in you for trying to make small talk with him like that right now.

The longer you stay silent, the more awkward it becomes, and you want to cry because you’ve never been awkward with Dazai before, and for a brief second, you wonder if things really have changed too much to go back to how they were.

Finally, you decide to just come out and say, bracing yourself for the inevitable derisive words that are going to leave his lips. “I broke up with him.”

Dazai’s scoff is loud and instantaneous, you bite your tongue, eyes sliding shut as you turn to face ahead instead of looking at him. Cowardly, you know, but you don’t want to see the sneer on his face when he asks you why he should care.

But he doesn’t say that. He doesn’t say anything at first. If you were looking at him, you’d see the way his cold expression shifted into a more conflicted one, still staring ahead because he can’t bring himself to look at you. You count each passing second, and it’s agonizing waiting for him to speak, a part of you thinks that maybe he won’t, and you’ll just have to leave the bar with your tail between your legs, humiliated.

But then he does.

“Why?” he finally asks coolly, and your eyes snap open and your gaze slides over to him when you realize he did not, in fact, hit you with the derogation you expected.

He still isn’t looking at you, and you watch as he lifts his free hand back to his lips, taking another long drag of his cigarette as he waits for your response. You swallow thickly when you try to figure out what to say next.

What you want to say is ‘because he wasn’t you,’ but you’re not ready to bare yourself vulnerable in front of him like that when he’s still so unpredictable. Just because he didn’t immediately hit you with the harsh words you expected, doesn’t mean he isn’t going to lure you in just to slap you in the face with it, which is how you’re sure he perceived what you did three months ago.

Rather, you say quietly: “He was boring, I guess.”

It’s a lie. Well, a partial lie, at least. He was a good guy, he was just boring compared to what you wanted, and what you wanted was Dazai Osamu, who no one in the world could hope to compare to.

“He was boring,” Dazai echoes your words, a cruel and mocking lilt to his voice, and you brace yourself now, taking the sudden switch in tone as the flicking off of the safety. But he shakes his head as he lets out a puff of air, you can’t tell if it’s another scoff or a laugh. “How cold-hearted of you. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, given your track record.”

Two paths lay before you: you can take the words as well-deserved, trying to avoid the inevitable fight, or you can spit back equally venomous words, dive in headfirst so the two of you can get everything off of your chest. Both choices are double-edged. If you avoid the fight, it means avoiding the topic altogether, and even if the two of you choose to speak again, the resentment of what had happened will only poison and fester. If you dive into the fight, there’s a chance of saying words you can’t take back, and everything might fall apart anyway.

What do you want? You want to ask him, because you aren’t sure what the right decision is. Three months ago, if you and Dazai got into a disagreement about something, you would know in an instant whether or not he wanted to fight it out to let off steam or just pretend it didn’t happen. Now, you aren’t so sure. He’s still not looking at you, so you can’t use the look in his eye as a hint, but his shoulders are tense beneath his jacket, and his knuckles are white around his glass of whiskey. Your gaze drags up to his face, catching the way his jaw is tight, teeth probably grinding together, and you know.

You look ahead again, leveling your vision on a particularly nice bottle of wine on the third shelf of the wine rack as you say: “I’d rather be cold-hearted than a coward.”

For the first time since you’ve arrived, Dazai’s gaze cuts in your direction, head snapping to the side. You turn your head toward him just enough for you to eye him from the corner of your eye, catching glimpse of the way his lip curled up into a snarl and the way flames now rage in the browns of his eye—a far cry from the bottomless void, but you prefer the anger to the emptiness.

“A coward?” His voice is low, cold, dangerous.

You’re treading on thin ice, but you choose to stoke the flame more, gaze sliding back to the wine racks ahead.

“A coward.”

The silence that hangs between the two of you is tense and damning, you have to force yourself not to react to it, keeping your expression as stony as his as you wait for his response. He’ll either hit you back with more venom or he’ll settle down, one will lead to a blow out fight and the other will lead to a very tense conversation.

You don’t want to fight him, but if that’s what he wants, you’ll give it to him.

After what feels like an eternity, Dazai makes another scornful noise but he doesn’t say anything, gaze snapping back ahead as he takes a drag of his cigarette, this one clearly fueled by anger, far more aggressive than the last one. As if to piss him off even more, he hardly gets half of a smoke, down to the nub already. Frustrated, he puts the lingering cinders out on the bartop before reaching for the pack in his pocket, pulling out a new cigarette and his lighter.

You watch as he tries to flick the lighter on, cigarette dangling between his lips, but the old thing refuses to cooperate. Distantly, you wonder why Dazai is so damn stubborn: working with an old lighter, living in a shitty shipping container, wearing the same few pairs of clothes every day when he probably has more money than god hoarded from his executive paycheck. But you only force yourself to not roll your eyes as you pull out your own lighter, flicking it on and holding it out to him without looking at him.

You watch from the corner of your eye as he stares at your hand suspiciously before he exhales from the side of his mouth, dipping his head down to light the cigarette before he faces ahead again. He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he reaches out for his glass of whiskey, still mostly full, and then he slides it over to you.

An offering. A white flag.

You barely withhold the breath of relief that nearly escapes you, accepting the drink and taking a long sip of it. It’s his favorite brand, smooth and familiar on the tongue; you haven’t been able to bring yourself to drink it since your falling out with him.

“Was it really because he was boring?” Dazai finally asks. He’s not looking at you again, but you can see from the way his fingers are tense against the bartop that he’s probably waiting for a certain response from you.

You let your eyes slide shut. “No,” you admit.

“Then why?” he presses, as if he doesn’t already know.

“You know why,” you say tightly, shaking your head and looking down.

“Tell me anyway,” Dazai responds quietly, you can feel his gaze on you but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. Irrationally, even though the atmosphere between the two of you has shifted, you wonder if this is it: he’s going to get you to admit it and then laugh in your face, cruel but probably deserved.

“Because he wasn’t you,” you finally force out.

He doesn’t respond. Your heart sinks to your stomach, a sick feeling churning. You brace yourself again—you don’t know what for, maybe a laugh or a derisive comment, but he does nothing of the sort.

A long exhale, smoke billowing around his face, a heavy look in his eyes. He doesn’t look at you as he says: “You’re right.”

You don’t respond because you’re not sure what he’s referring to. Finally, he tilts his head to look at you, a wry smile on his lips—your chest feels warm at the sight, you can’t remember the last time you’ve seen him smile. Probably not since the falling out.

“I was a coward.”

Oh.

The frustration you felt all of those months ago returns with a vengeance. You had danced with possibilities back then: that you were reading too much into things, that he didn’t actually care for you the way you did for him, that he simply did not want to be with you even if he did care about you that way. Now, faced with confirmation that he had felt the same but was just too pussy to act on it, your chest swells with that familiar anger. You force it away.

“Why?” you ask after a few moments of silence, nails digging into the palm of your hands as you rest them on your lap. “I… I waited for two years, Dazai. I gave you so many openings. You knew how I felt.”

“I know.” His voice is quiet, barely audible.

“Then why?” you repeat his words back to him, pressing hard just like he did. His throat bobs beneath his bandages as he swallows, averting his gaze, or trying to, at least, because you don’t let him. You reach out to grab his chin tightly, forcing him to look at you, and the pads of your fingers burn against his skin, hyper aware of the fact that this is the first time you’ve touched him in three months. “Why?”

His hand comes up to grab your wrist as if to pull your hand off of him, but he doesn’t, grip firm around your wrist, fingers pressing against your pulse point, and you’re acutely conscious of the fact that your pulse is probably racing but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“I told you why,” he says, voice uncharacteristically soft. Vulnerable in a way that you’ve never seen him before. “I was a coward. I… didn’t want to risk ruining our friendship... I don't have many friends. You know that. I would’ve rather just ignored how I felt and kept you as a friend, because I didn’t think there’d be a chance of losing you that way. I thought if I acted on how I felt, one day you’d eventually see me for what I am and I’d lose you altogether.”

“Some good that did you.” You can’t help the resentful words that spill from your lips, but you feel guilty when he winces, hand dropping back to your lap, his grip slipping from your wrist. “You think I don’t already see you for who you are? We’ve known each other since we were sixteen, Dazai. I know all of the sick and twisted thoughts that run through your head, I knew exactly what I was getting into.”

Dazai shakes his head, as if to deny your words. You get frustrated.

“I spend hours at your recovery bed after your attempts, I’ve caught you in the middle of them myself, do you know what the first thing I did was after I told you I had a boyfriend?” you demand, and he stares at you, unsure. “I put a protection detail on him because I thought you’d try to have him killed, or try to kill him yourself.”

Dazai winces. You shake your head and look away, settling down again.

“For someone so smart, you really are so goddamn stupid sometimes,” you sigh, taking a long swig of his drink before placing the glass back down on the table. “I saw you for who you are, and I wanted you anyway.”

“Wanted?” Dazai asks, an uncertain expression on his face as he zeroes in on the past tense.

“Want,” you correct, voice little over a breath, and something akin to relief sweeps across his face as his gaze drops down to the bartop.

The silence that hangs between the two of you is more comfortable this time. Reassuring, even, because maybe things might still be awkward between the two of you for a while, but there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, one much brighter than the one the two of you lived in three months ago.

“I can’t believe you went for a civilian,” Dazai suddenly says, almost sounding indignant. “A civilian. You!”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” you snap when you hear the incredulous tone he takes when he says ‘you’.

“You’re a stone cold bitch,” Dazai accuses and you gape, but you can’t find it in yourself to be offended because his eyes are lit up for the first time in months, a lopsided smile painted on his face. “And you’ve got as much blood on your hands as I do. You. A civilian. I think I would’ve been less offended if you went for Chuuya.”

“We both know that’s a lie,” you snort, and then you add, a bit amused, “you know what he wants a job as?”

“Tell me,” Dazai drawls, resting his chin on his hand as he leans on the bar, watching you with such a fond expression that it makes you feel warm all over.

God, you missed him the past three months.

“He wanted to go to law school. Become a public defender.”

Dazai chokes over the smoke he inhales, and you press your hand to your lips to smother your giggles as he desperately wheezes between laughs. You’re not sure if he’s actually choking, you think he might actually be dying from how red his face is getting.

“Maybe you should keep in contact with him then,” he gasps between laughs, “we might need one of those one day.”

“As if you’re sloppy enough to ever get caught,” you say dryly.

He winks at you, his grin sharpening, and you know you’re not going to like what he’s about to say. “Oh, I’m not. By ‘we’, I meant you.”

“Douchebag.” You roll your eyes, letting another silence settle over the two of you, a smile on your lips now as you take another sip of your drink. He’s the one to break it again.

“... Odasaku convinced me not to, by the way.”

“What?”

“To kill him. I was going to. Odasaku convinced me not to.”

You let out a sigh of utter suffering, giving Dazai a pointed look—see, you say silently, I know you. He has the decency to look a bit sheepish as lifts his cigarette back to his mouth in lieu of responding to your unspoken words.

“Stop with the self sabotage, Dazai,” you finally say, tired. “For both of our sakes’.”

He doesn’t respond, and you know him well enough to know that he’ll probably never stop with the self sabotage, but he does reach out to lace your fingers with his, and the warm feeling that spreads through your chest is enough to satiate you.

Little steps, because no, the Mafia is not a conducive place for relationships and yes, it’s only a matter of time before luck runs out for one of you, but if your life is destined to be short, there’s only one person you want to spend it with.

#ᡣ𐭩 carina’s archives #dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you

766 notes · View notes

dovkss · 11 months

Text

Dumb Bitch

word count: 5.8k

summary: after you pine after him for so long with no luck, Katsuki finally decides to take you as his; thanks to his best friend.

warning: 18+; mean dom! katsuki; dirty talk (ish); oral (m receiving); rough sex; spitting; choking; breath play; degradation; hair pulling; manipulation; dacryphilia; edging; size kink; misogyny; yandere tendencies; kinda ooc, I was having a lot of fun with this one; kinda dubcon-ish?, reader is drunk for the most part; katsuki is an ass; poor eijiro won’t take no for an answer and ends up getting fucked over bc of it; katsuki and ei are basically frenemies

all characters are aged up !!

a/n: my first published fic on this blog omg !! sorry for any mistakes or anything, I kinda rushed this but I enjoyed making this, hope you enjoy reading it :)

Kirishima stood in the middle of his room with his phone in his hand as a mischievous grin tugged at the corners of his lips. He knew of your little crush on his best friend and he couldn’t help but want to play cupid. He had the perfect plan, all he needed to do now was execute it. Sure, he knew Bakugou's disdain for you ran deep, but he also couldn't shake off the nagging feeling that there could be something more.

Dialing your number, he chuckled to himself, imagining the reaction he’d get out of you. It wasn't long before the ringback tone was cut off by the call connecting. Immediately you greeted him with a voice filled with joy, as usual.

“Hi, Kiri!” you greeted.

“Hey hey! How’s it going?” he asked.

You hummed in delight. He heard tiny giggles in the background. “Great,” you exclaimed. “The girls and I are having a sleepover right now… if you wanna talk to Mina, she’s right here- fuck!”

From the sound of it, you were hit as a sign to shut up. Kirishima chuckled at your guys’ antics. “Well, this is easy enough knowing you’re all in one place! I’m throwing a little get-together this weekend, I want you all to be there!”

It got a little quiet on the other end of the line, the only thing being heard is some shuffling and slight whispers.

“Hmm, who’s all gonna be there?” you asked curiously.

Kirishima smiled. “He’s gonna be there.”

He could almost hear the collective gasp that came from you and your friends. Then it went dead silent. You muted yourself. The redhead imagined your guys’ squeals.

You cleared your throat, going back to trying to act normal, and unmuted yourself. “Count us in, Kiri!” you exclaimed. “We wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

Everything was going to plan. You and he said your goodbyes before the call ended. Kirishima couldn’t help but wear a satisfied grin. He knew he had sparked a glimmer of hope within you. The idea of igniting a connection between you and Bakugou excited him. But it was soon dampened when Bakugou stormed into the room with a couple of cans of soda in his hands.

“What the hell was that about?” he asked.

Kirishima knew he couldn’t lie to him. Bakugou knows when he lies. Bakugou set the sodas on the wood floor and grabbed two cans. He tossed one to his friend and opened up his own. He sat on Kirishima’s bed, facing him, awaiting an answer.

Kirishima popped his soda open and took a sip. The room was filled with tense silence, even if it was for only a moment. “I just invited some last-minute people to the party,” he said.

True.

Bakugou’s vermillion eyes narrowed. His intense gaze radiated intense annoyance. “Who?” he questioned some more.

Kirishima winced playfully at Bakugou’s usual harsh response. He would rather intend to pique the ash blonde’s curiosity rather than ignite his ire.

"Don't worry about it, bro. We'll see everybody there!"

For the first time, Bakugou wanted to be wrong. He shook his head in disapproval before chugging down some more of his soda. "You're a fucking idiot, Kirishima. I thought you knew better than to invite her."

Kirishima squinted at Bakugou. "I get that you don't like her, but you're also being way too quick to judge. Get to know her a little better, she isn't who you think she is."

Bakugou scoffed, his voice filled with disbelief. "You think I would waste my time on someone like her? You should know me better than that."

"I just think that maybe-"

"That fucking shallow, attention-seeking whore. I have no interest in girls like her."

Kirishima's expression softened, his voice gentle but firm. "Not cool, man. She's still my friend," he started, "and I think you watch too many movies. Not every girl that cares about how they look on the outside is some dumb bitch."

Bakugou's scowl deepened, frustration etched on his face. "I don't need you playing matchmaker, Kirishima. I can take care of myself."

Kirishima sighed and raised his hands in defeat. "Fine! I'll let it go!" He then offered a small smile to defuse the tension. "Let's focus on getting this shit ready. We need to go out and buy some cups and food and... whatever else I can't think of on the spot right now!"

Bakugou grumbled in agreement. "Whatever. Let's get this shit over with."

Your shoes clicked softly against the polished floor of the library as you anxiously scanned the aisles of the bookshelves. You were searching for Kirishima and you were in a bit of a rush.

Earlier that morning while you were packing your purse, you realized your beloved wallet, adorned with sparkling rhinestones, wasn't on your vanity. You would never dare forget it; you relied on it because it had every card you could think of in there. And some backup cash.

You rummaged through other bags and drawers, panic rising within you. It was one of your most treasured possessions, something your mother gave you as a gift before you left for college. You desperately needed that wallet, especially now, with an important event just hours away.

Realization struck you like a bolt of lightning. You remembered opening it to pay the pizza delivery man at Kirishima's house the previous day when you were studying with him and the girls. You must've left it behind. You were so stupid!

With a sigh of frustration, you dialed Kirishima's number from your backup flip phone since your main phone was dead. Your fingers trembled lightly as you held it up to your ear, you hoped beyond hope that he had seen it. You didn't expect him to pick up because he wouldn't possibly recognize the number but he did.

"Hello?" he answered.

"Kiri! Hi, how are you? Good? That's great," you greeted eagerly, "um, do you by any chance know if I left my wallet at your place?" You rocked back and forth as you shoved your purse into the front seat of your car, putting your key into the ignition.

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line. "Oh, that's yours? The one with a bunch of glitter… crap on it? Yeah, I have it on me right now actually." he said.

You let out a sigh of relief and smiled. "Great, can I pick it up from your right now? I'm kind of in a hurry..."

He chuckled. "Of course! I'll be on campus for a couple more hours, just swing by the library."

With a renewed sense of purpose, you drove to campus. It took you way longer than usual due to traffic, but you made it nonetheless.

You made it to the library and began scanning the room, looking for your friend. The scent of old books filled the air, and the hushed whispers of students studying added an aura of calmness.

You spotted Kirishima in a corner, engrossed in a thick textbook, writing down notes as well, and you made your way toward him. As you approached, your eyes inadvertently fell upon a figure sitting next to him doing the same.

A slightly taller man with spiky blonde hair. You could tell by the way he sat, he was undeniably arrogant. Katsuki Bakugou.

Your heart skipped a beat and a nervous flutter ran through you. You'd heard rumors of his fiery personality. His ability to put anyone who dared to cross his path in their place. You were very curious about him.

"Kiri!" you chirped, flashing a bright smile.

Kirishima looked up from his book and returned the kind gesture. He put his finger up to his lips, reminding you that they were still in a library. You quietly apologized and laughed at yourself.

"It's in my bag, hold on," he whispered. He picked up his backpack from the floor next to him, unzipping it to go through the contents inside.

Your gaze wandered across the library. You tried your best to not look at Bakugou. It was hard not to, though, he was very handsome. Finally, you gave in and turned your attention to him.

You offered a tentative smile. "Hi there! I don't think we've met before."

Bakugou's piercing gaze met yours. He was unimpressed and regarded you as if your presence irritated him. Unbeknownst to you, it did.

Your smile faltered for a moment, but you refused to let his cold demeanor deter you. "I'm a friend of Kirishima's-"

"I know who you are," he responded curtly, his tone laced with thinly veiled contempt.

You felt your cheeks heat up. His voice was so intimidating and so attractive. "Katsuki Bakugou, right? I've heard a lot about you."

His dirty look became more prominent. "Yeah, I've heard enough about you too."

Your heart sank a little at his words. What did he hear? You weren't aware of any rumors of you or anything, and you were kind to everyone. The dummies, weirdos, everyone!

Kirishima chimed in. "Be nice, man," he said as he got up with your wallet in his hand. He handed it to you and you took it from him.

"Thanks so much, Kiri," you said, a sense of relief washing over you. "You have no idea how much I rely on this thing."

He shook his head, his smile showcasing his sharp teeth. "Don’t we all!"

You nodded, your gaze fixed on your reflection in your little compact mirror. "You saved the day, yet again, Kiri. I owe you one."

Ever since then, you got to know more about Bakugou thanks to Kirishima. How despite what many would believe, he's organized, and a clean freak. How much he hates being around kids yet are so great with them. Just how well he can play the drums or cook.

You thought you were subtle but it was obvious that you longed for Bakugou. It wasn't your fault he was everything you wanted in a man.

He had it all. Hardworking, determined, and confident. It was so sexy. The only problem was that he didn't seem interested at all. If anything, he seemed to despise you. To him, you were just an annoying bug that kept coming back even after being swatted at.

You wanted to win him over. When you knew you would be around him, you purposefully dressed a little sexier. Bending over to grab things even while wearing the shortest skirt that barely covered your ass and tight shirts to enhance your chest and waist.

Bakugou didn't even spare you a sympathetic glance. But you kept going. Tonight was the party and this was your last chance. If you couldn't even do as much as strike up a conversation with him, you told yourself you'd give up. You were too pretty for all this effort to be put into a man. But god, he was so hot.

Your anticipation grew as you and your friends approached Kirishima's house. The usually quiet neighborhood was transformed into a hive of activity. Cars lined the streets and the sound of laughter and music spilled from the open windows. What was meant to be a "get-together" had turned into a Project X party.

"Todoroki, could you go any damn slower?" Mina complained, her seat belt already off.

"You want me to run over these people?" he asked. You giggled, knowing his question was literal.

Mina groaned in annoyance, mumbling a small 'no.' Momo was in the front seat next to her boyfriend. "Don't listen to her, she's just a little impatient."

Finally, Todoroki got you guys to the front of the house. You were the first to get out, followed by Mina coming out behind you. Momo kissed her boyfriend. Then gave him another kiss. Then another.

Mina whined loudly. "Oh my god, Momo! He's just going to park the car! He's not leaving you, come on!"

You leave them behind in silence. As you pushed open the front door, the energy hit you like a tidal wave. Every inch of the house was packed with people, bodies swaying to the rhythm of the music. The air was thick with alcohol, weed, and the hum of people trying to converse over the loud music.

You looked around, mouth agape. You didn't even notice Mina and Momo by your side. Their eyes widened at the sight before them.

Mina leaned in closer to be heard above the noise. "This place is insane!" she exclaimed, her voice barely audible amidst the chaos.

Momo nodded in agreement. "I don't think any of us expected this. Kirishima sure knows how to throw a party."

Your eyes scanned the room in search of the boy. You caught a glimpse of his familiar red hair through the crowd and motioned for your friends to follow.

It was a challenge to move through people. Your face scrunched up in disgust as the air grew warmer. The smell finally getting to you, it was gross. Sweaty bodies rubbed against you as you made your way through. You gagged. The once cozy house had transformed into something completely unrecognizable.

Finally reaching Kirishima's side, you tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around and greeted you. It took you a moment before realizing he was shirtless. And his hair wasn't done how it usually was. It was messy and wet.

"What happened here? This was supposed to be a small get-together!" you asked, evidently in disbelief.

Kirishima laughed. "I know! It got a bit out of hand! But hey, more people, more fun, right? By the way, you look gorgeous!"

You wore a corset dress. The bodice was designed with pretty lacing and the mini skirt boasted a slit on each side. The white set was complete with thick stilettos and makeup that accentuated your natural features.

You felt your face get hot and you smiled, giving him a little twirl to show off your outfit. Kirishima dog whistled playfully and handed you a plastic red cup. You looked inside and sniffed it. Alcohol. Strong, strong alcohol.

Taking what Kirishima said, you and your friends were immersed in the lively atmosphere of the party. You all danced; twirling and spinning, laughter blending in with the melodies as you lost yourself.

With a drink in each of your guys' hands, your inhibitions further dissolved, and you found yourselves caught in a whirlwind of euphoria. You clinked cups, toasting to the night, and gulped down the concoction.

Your mind was no longer consumed by thoughts of Bakugou. The weight of your infatuation was lifted, replaced with a sense of liberation. You reveled in the present moment, finding comfort exactly where you were.

Time lost its grip and you were having fun. By the time you were worn out, your cheeks were flushed and the warmth of the alcohol coursed through your veins, the effects beginning to take a toll on your mind and body. What was just an exhilarating atmosphere now seemed overwhelming, your energy dwindling with each passing moment. Your giggles faded and were replaced with yawns that you couldn't stifle.

Kirishima approached you with a concerned look. He gently placed a hand on your head, stroking your forehead with his thumb. "You are exhausted..."

You closed your eyes for a tiny bit of rest and your ability to hold yourself up became harder and harder. Kirishima shooed away some random person off the couch to make some room for you. He helped you sit up and made sure you were comfortable before going to look for his blonde best friend.

"Bakugou!" Kirishima called out over the music. He approached the guy who sat in the corner of the party, a group of people Kirishima had never seen before was surrounding his friend.

He pushed through the small crowd. "I need your help."

Bakugou blinked at the lack of explanation. "With what?"

Kirishima nudged his head toward where you were sitting. Bakugou's eyes followed only to see your state. You looked sick and stiff, almost as if you were dead. He groaned, taking a swig of his beer. "Not my problem-"

"She's fucking tired! Just help me take her to my room so she can get some rest!" Kirishima's expression didn't waver as he pressed on. "I know we aren't exactly getting along right now, but I can't do this alone."

A mixture of irritation and reluctance flickered across Bakugou's face. His jaw clenched, the internal conflict was visible in his tense posture. After a brief moment, he finally relented.

"If she pukes on me, I'm killing both of you," he grumbled.

Together, Kirishima and Bakugou made their way through the crowded room. Bakugou downed the last of his drink before tossing it somewhere he couldn't see. He watched Kirishima pull you up from the couch, your tired form leaning on him for support and your eyes struggling to stay open.

Bakugou's mind wandered back to all the instances when you had made your attempts to catch his attention. He'd seen your efforts, dismissing them as frivolous and uninteresting. But up until recently, recognition stirred within him.

“F-fuck! Katsuki!”

The boy groaned in response. His thrusts didn’t let up even for a moment. He had her in doggy style, making sure to go deep inside her with his long strokes. His hands pressed down on her hips to keep her in place as her upper half wriggled around in pleasure.

Bakugou was turned off by her horrible acting. It was worse than a pornstar’s. At this rate, he knew he wouldn’t cum at all despite her already cumming for the first time.

The girl wasn’t ugly, she just wasn’t his type. Too vanilla for someone like him. He needed to rough someone up without worry. To grab someone by the neck and push their head into his pillow. To make someone take his big dick in full as they plead for mercy.

You were that someone.

He imagined pulling your hair and lifting you against him, your sweating bodies pressed against each other. How he’d throw you back down and pound into you from behind relentlessly. How you’d look back at him, unrecognizable with your makeup smudged and messed up, his hand rubbing along your back, up and down.

“Please… too big!” you’d bed.

He wanted badly to shake those thoughts away but he couldn’t. He closed his eyes to imagine more of what he’d do to you. Before he knew it, the thoughts set him off.

He pulled out of the girl and stroked a bit before cumming on her backside. She breathed in and out heavily, trying to catch her breath. She also began to touch herself so she can cum a second time

Bakugou didn’t help. He was busy thinking about you. Thinking about your lips, eyes, curves, and smell. You. You. You. He wanted you all for himself. But he knew your type; sweet on the outside, secretly hoping to be given a chance to play others to get what you wanted. He wasn’t going to play that game.

That night haunted him for weeks. When you came around, he went out of his way to avoid coming in contact with you. In his room, he would hear your voice ask: “What’s wrong with him?”

Kirishima would respond: “He’s been this like for a minute, but I’m not pushing it.”

Later that night, after you left, Kirishima knocked on Bakugou’s door. In one of his hands, he had a bowl of food that he cooked the day before.

“You’ve been in your room all day, bro! You need to help me set up!” he said.

Bakugou examined the boxing glove on his left hand. He wiggled his fingers only to realize it was way too stiff. Now he needed new gloves.

“M’ not hungry.”

Kirishima opened the door anyway and approached the boy, putting the dish on his desk. He looked at Bakugou and crossed his arms. "Something botherin' you, man?"

Bakugou huffed. Kirishima may have been a little slow, but he wasn't stupid. He could tell when his best friend is off.

Kirishima sighed. "(Y/n) and I noticed that you've been kinda distant lately. You barely come around anymore."

"Why is she always mentioned whenever we talk?"

Kirishima was taken aback. He raised an eyebrow.

Bakugou finally stood up, looking him dead in the eyes. "It's obvious you have a thing for her.

Kirishima stammered, unsure of how to respond. "I mean- I care about her as a friend, just like I do you. There's nothing more to it."

"You're always by her side, looking out for her, protecting her. Like you're fucking obsessed with her! It's pathetic!"

Kirishima shook his head in disbelief. "Just because I'm being a good friend doesn't mean I have ulterior motives. If you can't see that, then maybe you're the one with the problem here!"

Bakugou's body blazed with irritation. "You're fucking jealous that she pays more attention to me than she does to you."

Kirishima's jaw tightened. Immediately Bakugou knew he struck a nerve.

"Face it, Kirishima. She isn't interested, so back off. You're nothing compared to me."

Without another word, Kirishima turned on his heel, standing tall and steps firm as he walked away from the blonde. "Party is in three hours. Be ready."

Bakugou couldn't help but get another jab in as he listened to Kirishima mumble insults before slamming the door shut behind him.

"Stop worrying about me and start worrying about how you're gonna get your bitch off my dick!"

A wry smile formed on Bakugou’s lips as he recalled the telltale signs that hadn’t gone unnoticed before. Kirishima’s subtle glances in your direction, the way his eyes would light up whenever you entered the room, how his cheeks turned pink whenever you laughed at his jokes.

Bakugou knew his friend wouldn’t admit that he liked you, but he also knew you didn't know. You were nothing but a dumb bitch.

As they reached Kirishima's room, Bakugou held the door open, allowing Kirishima to guide you inside due to your unsteady steps. The room was untouched, bathed in a warm, inviting glow like it always had. It offered a haven of tranquility, opposite of the chaotic activities going on downstairs.

Kirishima led you to his bed, helping you settle down with gentle care. "Thanks. I'll stay with her for a bit. You can head back to the party if you want-"

He was interrupted by the sound of glass breaking. His eyes widened. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He got up and rushed out the door without an explanation, only a ‘be right back!’

Bakugou watched him go and contemplated leaving himself. Then he looked at you, your chest softly rising up and down and you breathe. He sighed and went to close the door before sitting down next to your resting body. He traced his fingertips down the side of your arm.

“You want me so bad, don't you?" he asked. But it was more of a rhetorical question.

Suddenly you nodded softly. "Y-Yeah..."

Oh, you were awake. Bakugou's eyes furrowed.

"More than anything..."

"Then prove it," he growled. "Prove to me that you're worthy of my attention."

Barely conscious, you didn't understand what he meant, but as the alcohol faded, your sense came back to you. Your willingness to do anything to win Bakugou over was back and took over your mind in an instant.

You began to unbutton your shirt, revealing your lacy bra. Bakugou watched you with a cold, calculating gaze.

"You think that's enough?" he scoffed. "You really are a dumb bitch who doesn't know anything."

Your eyes filled with tears. You'd never been spoken to like that before. Yet, something about it made you hot. His coldness and brutality made you rub your thighs together.

"Please, Bakugou," you pleaded.

Bakugou then shook his head as he began to knead your thigh. "Call me Katsuki."

You smiled. Finally, you were getting what you wanted. He saw you. He noticed you. He's into you.

"Please, Katsuki," you whispered. "Tell me what you want me to do..."

His hand kept moving all over your body. Your heart pounded in your chest, scared of what his response may be. But he never said anything, he just eyed you.

Looking you up and down, his index and ring fingers grazing over your lips. Suddenly, he popped them into your mouth. As if it was a reflex, you wrapped your lips around them, sucking on them sightly. He caught you off guard when he pressed against the bottom of your tongue, making you gag. You turned your head, hoping he'd pull away.

Bakugou chuckled. "Get up for me, baby, and strip."

He let you sit up but not before wiping your saliva off his fingers onto your cheek. You slowly stood in front of him, holding onto his shoulders for support. He leaned back, trying to get a better view of your full body.

Slowly you began to remove your clothes. You felt exposed. Way more vulnerable than you ever had before. You avoided his hungry gaze.

"You know..." he began.

You looked up at him, not stopping the motions of getting undressed.

"Kirishima likes you."

You smiled. "I like him too. He's a good friend."

Bakugou wanted to laugh in your face. Your naivety was cute. He decided to be nice and only nodded in agreement. He watched intensely as the article of clothing dropped to the floor. His eyes studied your undergarments. It was a matching set, in pink. Of course. He felt himself twitch.

He sat up and extended his arm out to your cheek, lightly caressing it. "That's not what I meant."

In a flash, he let go of your face to grab a fistful of your hair, pulling it back roughly. You whimper, your eyes shut tight. Your hands follow his actions, trying to pry him off.

"Aah! Katsuki, it hurts!" you winced in pain.

"Awe. Awe, it hurts? Yeah?" he mocked your tone before chuckling. "Can't even handle a little hair pulling."

He stood up, towering over you. He pushed you down slowly to your knees, praising you for your compliance. You shivered due to your bare body being exposed to the cold air.

With his other hand, he unbuckled his pants and unzipped himself. You listened to his pants fall and lightly bit your lip. Suddenly your face was pushed forward, being pressed into something hard.

You opened your eyes and looked up at Bakugou. You could see his rock-hard cock through his clean underwear. It curved slightly to the side and he was awfully big... and long... and thick.

You weren't a virgin but you weren't very experienced either. You'd never seen one so big before. You doubted that you were able to take that in any capacity. Not in your mouth, not in your pussy either, but you wanted so badly to impress him.

You rubbed your cheek against his dick, making him breathe out slowly. Bakugou pushed your head aside, harsher than he expected, and pulled down his underwear. He grabbed you by your cheeks and looked you in the eyes.

You were so beautiful like that. On his knees for him. Under him, below him; where you were meant to be.

Grabbing his cock, he slaps it against your face before pressing it to your lips. You open up, allowing him to smoothly slip it in.

"Ahh... shit..." he groaned as the warmth of your mouth took in his cock. You try to work your tongue around him as best as you could, his cock barely being able to fit in your mouth.

He gripped your hair in his fist as he began to move against your face, making you choke. The lipgloss you wore had been smeared, staining your mouth; your mascara ran down your cheeks as your eyes watered every time his cock slammed the back of your throat.

"Look at you. Eagerly swallowing my cock- fuck! Such a slut," he sighed.

Bakugou began to go faster, not giving you any time to take a break. You'd never been face fucked before, let alone roughly. Your gagging became more audible whenever your nose brushed against his pubes. You needed air, but he didn't give you any time to take a break.

You slapped his thigh a couple of times, trying to signal him. He understood; he just didn't care. Finally, he showed some mercy and pulled your hair back to allow you to breathe.

You gasped and cough. You let out unsteady breaths and it was hard for you to catch up to your normal pace of breathing. This didn't last very long though as Bakugou pried open your jaw, shoving his fingers in your mouth once again, this time reaching your throat. You choked again, more tears falling from your face. He kept his hand there for a few seconds, studying your pathetic attempt to please him. When you began to cough again, he pulled out.

"Impressive. Where'd you learn that?"

You felt your body growing even more tired than it was before. You opened your mouth to breathe, only for him to spit directly into it.

"Swallow."

You obeyed. His saliva slid down your throat with ease as you swallowed, and then you opened your mouth to show him. He smirked and stood up. You watched him lift you onto Kirishima's bed, positioning your head to dangle off the bed, facing the closed door.

You felt his tall, strong body leaning over yours as his mouth explored every inch of your skin. His fingers, still soaked with your saliva, slid off your panties and ran along your entrance. You were undeniably wet, and it was embarrassing. How easily you got wet. Bakugou thought it was adorable.

At first, his fingers rubbed just on top of your throbbing clit. You moan out softly, your hands moving down to his hair, playing with it a little. Your back arched at the sensation, causing him to push down your hips to keep you still.

"Look at yourself whoring out for me. You should be ashamed," he said.

He was right. You should have been ashamed. But... you weren't. You couldn't think straight, all you wanted in that moment was for him to be inside of you.

You lifted your head to watch him only for it to be put back down as his lips came up to kiss your neck. His fingers went faster, and you felt yourself squeeze around him. More moans came out of you as you concentrated.

His kisses, his fingers, his hot breath, his body.

Kisses, fingers, hot breath, body.

Kisses, fingers, breath, body.

Kisses, fingers, breath-

"M' gonna cum!" you cry out.

Bakugou faced you, his sharp canines showing as he laughed at you. You threw your head back and he lowered his face to nibble on your neck. You mumbled out incoherent words, on the verge of cumming.

A loud moan comes out of your mouth and immediately Bakugou pulls out. Your eyes widen, looking at him.

"No, no, no," you whined.

He ignored you and slapped his juices-covered hand over your face, pushing your head down yet again. It was too much for you. The pain of the bite on your neck went unnoticed when he forced his hips in between your legs, pulling you against him. He lined up his swollen cock with your cunt, slapping it a little. You moaned as he got himself wet with your juices mixed in with his precum.

He entered you without a warning and you screamed at the discomfort. You put your hands on his chest, whining. "Go slow, please!"

His gaze at you visibly softened. "You want me to be gentle, hm?"

You nodded, swallowing thickly. "Y-yeah... yeah..."

He whined just like you did. "Yeah? You want me to be soft with you? Help you adjust to my big dick?"

You repeated yourself. He smiled, carefully moving some strands of hair from your face. "You're so cute."

He slammed into you, instantly making you wail. His thrusts were slow, but hard. It hurt so bad. You whine in pain as his fingers went down to play with your clit again, laying a couple of smacks on your cunt.

Tears streamed down your face. The pain was excruciating, unlike anything you'd ever felt before. Your cunt was already sensitive, now paired with Bakugou's hand around your throat, and the pain slowly letting up, you felt so good. You were in heaven.

Bakugou's groans mixed in with your moans filled the room along with the sound of his balls slapping against you as his thrusts became even harder, you couldn't help but be loud, it wasn't like anybody could hear you. Your pussy throbbed around his cock and your back began to arch. You felt yourself coming closer and closer to your orgasm. And he noticed it.

He slowed down a bit. You were a little grateful as you were finally able to take him comfortably. But you questioned his change of pace.

"You know," he panted, "Kirishima wants us together."

You continued to moan, only murmuring over and over again how big his dick was, barely listening.

"He always talked about me and you- ugh...! Getting together..." he revealed. "Probably something he wants the most..." He lifted your head, putting his forehead to yours. "Let's do him a favor, yeah?"

The tightness on your throat grew tighter, cutting off your airflow, and his thrusts started to become harder again. Your eyes widened as your body struggled under his.

He whispered in your ear while increasing the pace of his strokes. "Be mine, baby. Cum all over my cock."

So you did. Your legs began to shake as your lungs begged for oxygen. Your orgasm was intense, your body squirming uncontrollably. He groaned as your pussy clenched around him for the last time. To be fair, he let go of your throat and your head went flying back over the edge of the bed.

You were officially head over heels for him. You would do anything to stay with him, even if it meant sacrificing your happiness and well-being. And you had a feeling he knew this.

The doorknob of the bedroom turned and the door opened. "Someone broke the damn vase with the-"

Kirishima.

He examined the scene before him, his breaths slowly becoming inaudible and his heart pounding in his chest.

Bakugou’s gaze snapped towards Kirishima, a smirk flashing across his face. "Kirishima. We didn't expect you to come in."

Kirishima ignored him, only focusing on you. His eye twitched as he took note of your cock drunk daze. You smiled innocently at him, your chest pumping up and down deeply.

"Kiri... I don't owe you one anymore."

He clutched his hands together, his knuckles turning white.

"You dumb bitch."

1K notes · View notes

aphroditestempleimagines · 5 months

Text

A nice bottle of wine

Pairing: Chuuya Nakahara x fem!Reader - 18+

Words: 2916

Warnings: oral(m! & f!receiving), fingering, lowkey brat-taming, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (don't do this kids), angry sex, rough sex, groping, nipple play, hickeys, aftercare, marking, creampie, bruising, language

Summary: You're an executive in the Port Mafia, playing cards with Chuuya. After a bottle of wine (or two) the game develops into a strip poker and (dot dot dot).

Author's note: Just fyi, wine sends you to happy land faster than anything. And I have no idea how to do this trope, I hope you enjoy it if that's your thing. And you know how I am, I can't NOT turn it into love. Also what am I doing with my life?

"Nice seeing you here, fancyhat", you said, closing the door to the executive lounge behind you.

Chuuya let out an annoyed grunt. "Piss off", he said.

You chuckle as you make your way to the table. "What's gotten you into such a bad mood?", you lean towards him, "Did Dazai do something to piss you off again?"

"I told you not to say that name in front of me", he growls.

"He's just playing with you, you know", you sigh as you take a seat across from him, "You're very easy to manipulate for a single reason".

You let that hook dangle in front of him as the two of you sit in silence. It is not long before curiosity gets the better of him and urges him to ask what you mean.

"Isn't it obvious?", you raise your shoulder.

"No, not to me", he mocks.

You smile as you reach to caress his jaw. He draws back, cheeks flustered as he screams "What The HELL?".

"See?", you wink, "That's the reason"

Time passes and the boss is running late. The bottle of wine Chuuya had brought for the meeting is drained little by little by the two of you. To battle the boredom you take out a deck of cards and suggest a poker game. It's easy to wire Chuuya in and play; all one has to do is claim he can't. Yet it's surprising to see that he is extremely skilled. Most shockingly, his poker face is astoundingly well-built, with no space for any sort of interpretation of his feelings, unlike in his everyday life. Even teasing him does not seem to shake him off, other than tinting his cheeks with a slight reddish hue.

"Might if I change the deal?", he asks in earnestness after a few rounds as he takes a look at his new cards.

You raise one of your eyebrows. "To what?"

"We'll play some rounds", Chuuya rearranges his cards, "Each time I win I will remove one piece of clothing from you"

There's no jest in his tone and neither in his eyes. I can feel the weight of his gaze upon me, serious and predatory, as he waits for my answer.

"Why do you want to do that?", you ask curiously.

"Cause I want to", he says.

His gaze is sure and penetrating as it fixes upon you. A blush creeps onto your cheeks. "You understand I am obligated to ask something similar, don't you Chuuya?", you challenge that steel gaze.

"Will you ask to put them back on?"

"No", you lean towards him, "I want you to remove one of yours"

He scoffs. "Works for me", he says, "Although I doubt you'll get more than one on me"

"We'll see", you smirk back at him.

The first game is won by Chuuya.

"Let's start with the jacket", he moves behind your chair. He pulls it off of your shoulders, his fingers caressing your skin. He plants a kiss at the side of your neck, a kiss and a bite which has your ears redden. You turn away but you know he is smiling at your reaction. You restrain your flustered expression. A game like this could only have one resolution, you knew that. But it was weird how the same Chuuya, who quipped and scoffed at your teasing and flirtations was now, after some wine, forward and teasful himself.

Piece after piece your clothes disappear along with your chances of getting the upper hand. "Rules are rules", Chuuya says as his fingers unbutton your shirt. He plants a kiss where your neck meets your head, sucking at the soft skin while his hands play with your loose hair.

You want to call his name. You have been wanting him to do something, anything, since the day you first laid eyes on him. Yet even after years and years of working under Mori's orders, even after climbing to the top of the food chain of those who rule the nights of Yokohama, he was as untouchable as the first day. But not today. Today he took step after step bringing the two of you together. You did not care if what he wanted was one night or something more. At the end of the day, it didn't matter. You wanted him. Even if all he gave was a night you'd take it over nothing at all at this point.

The next game is yours. "What will it be?", Chuuya asks bluntly, pretending not to care.

"The hat", you smile devilishly.

Chuuya blushes in a mixture of anger and embarrassment. "HUH?", his tongue rattles, "Are you seriously choosing the HAT?"

"Rules are rules", you mock back.

He lets out a growl before slamming the hat on the table. "You could have chosen something better you know", he says annoyed.

"I don't want to", your mind is too slowed down by wine to stop you from climbing on the table, your hand reaching for his ginger hair. You entwine his locks with your fingers; you are mesmerized by how soft it is.

"If you're drunk, pick up your clothes and leave", Chuuya turns his head away, "Do it now"

"I'm fine here", you say, "I still have time to turn this around"

"May I propose an ultimatum then?", he asks seriously.

"Go on"

"Whoever wins the next one gets to give the other one order", with your bra long discarded, his thumb traces your naked nipple.

You chuckle. "That hasn't worked that well for you in the past you know", you say, "Do you have something in mind to suggest this?"

"Do you want me to spell it out?", Chuuya stands from his chair. He leans towards you as you sit on the table, his hands dragging you closer to him by the hips. "I want to fuck that smirk off of you", his lips hover above yours, "right here on this table".

You want nothing more than to capture his lips. They are so close you can feel the weight of his breath on your tongue. Your body aches to close the distance between you, but you straighten your back and gaze back at him defiantly. "You know what they say about short men", you mock.

"Do you want me to choke you on it?", he growls.

"If I win", you palm his half-hard length over his black trousers, "I'll take your choker and leave you like this"

You pull away faster than he can touch you. You deal the cards yourself, even though you hope to lose.

"I'll make sure they can hear you down on the ground floor", he says with the best poker face you have ever seen. You cannot tell whether he is bluffing you or if you truly should pass the next hand.

"Are you this confident you'll win this time?", you ask even though he has already managed to undress you this much, "From what I've heard you have incredibly bad luck at poker when it matters the most"

"That's because I was playing with that waste of good bandages", he says plainly, "I may not be able to read his moves but I can read yours clear as day"

You take a chance to bet; a full house from Chuuya is what crushes it into dust. Your heart skips a beat. Before you could think Chuuya was in front of you. He crooks his fingers at you, signalling you to stand. You tremble as his bare hands trace your torso until they reach the waist of your panties and you tense. You cannot believe this is happening.

"What are you worried about?", he asks, "I bet you agreed hoping to lose". His hands are light and sweet as they caress your body. He's taking his time to turn you on, yet his actions keep hanging from your own lips, waiting for the moment you'll tell him to stop. "Are you afraid I'll find out how wet I have already made you?", he hits the mark, the pads of his digits tracing my core over the fabric, "I already know sweetheart". He presses his fingers on that spot and starts tracing slow circles. His eyes observe you for the slightest objection, but there is none.

You place your hand on his neck, pulling him close. He leans to your chest, taking one of your breasts in his mouth. Your mouth falls agape as he picks up the speed of his fingers, letting them dive into your core along with your panties.

"Chuuya...", your fingers curl around whatever part of him they can hold.

"Fuck", he breathes before kneeling down in front of you.

He takes the waist of your knickers between his teeth and pulls them down enough for you to shake them off. He places a hand behind your head and pulls you in for a brutal kiss. He hikes your leg around his waist, your bare cunt rubbing against the roughness of his trousers.

"These fucking lips", his gloved thumb traces them, "You know how I fucking feel about you don't you? That's why you keep pushing me"

"You ask for it"

He kisses you again. And again. And again; until your mind grows dizzy. He takes his gloves out with his teeth, his hands moving to grope your plump behind. Your folds keep rubbing against his thigh, his clothed length teasing your bud from time to time. His fingers plunge inside you long enough to have you climbing, leaving you before you can fall.

"Chuuya", you whine, "Please"

"Begging already?", his hand holds your chin, "Where's that spite now, huh?"

"Just fuck me already!", your fire returns at the sound of his words, "Or are you scared to keep your promise cause I won't feel anything?"

He turns you around, his hands trapping yours behind you as he bends you over the table. He frees his length and buries it inside your walls in a single thrust. Your hands reach to grab something, anything, as your breath is taken away.

"Say that again", he dares in your ear.

He feels too good for words. The only thing you can utter is his name as he sets an excruciatingly slow pace. Your hips chase him but he holds them down. His length scrapes along your walls as he carefully adjusts the angle to your reactions.

"Do you want me to make you cum?", he buries himself inside you. You nod as you bite your lip.

And then he's gone.

"What the hell?", you heave as he leans on the table next to you.

He is folding his sleeves up to his elbows. "Prove it", he pulls you in his embrace. His tongue reaches to meet yours as he kisses you deeply.

"How?", you breathe.

He pushed you onto a chair. With his hand on the back for support, he leans over you as you sit. His other hand softly lifts your chin. "Every time you open these goddamn lips I imagine them wrapped around my cock", he says.

"Pervert", you smile at him.

He gives you another angry kiss, his knee nestling between your legs, his hand grasping your throat. Soon after he pulls away and leans back on the table, waiting to see what you'll do. You push back the chair and wrap your arms around his torso, pulling him in for another kiss. Your lips trail down on his skin, from his neck to his torso. He is far more vocal than you expected. His hands hold you tight, his moans remain unrestrained. When your knees hit the floor his hand caresses your face in sweetness. He throws his head back as you take him into your mouth. The kind hand that caresses your cheek now pushes you down to take more of him in. His trance is woken up by your gagging, to which his eyes swiftly dart to check up on you. But you are fine. More than that, you want to make him lose this macho composure he had suddenly found. And he does. His chest frantically goes up and down, the song of his pleasure filling the room until he comes undone.

He pulls you up crushing his lips into yours. "Fuck you", he growls.

"Do it already", you whine.

His hands on your waist, you feel your body grow lighter as you are enveloped by the red hue of his ability. "You're already light as a feather", he said, "But I can't risk you slipping".

He lays you down on the table. He buries his head between your legs, his tongue diving inside. He stretches your walls further for him with one hand as he pumps his length with the other. He leaves a few more marks on your thigh before he rises to his feet. He thrusts his length inside you once again until his hips meet yours. He sets a harsh pace, hiking your legs over his shoulders as he calculates the speed that could retain the hardness of his thrusts.

"We keep calling Dazai the slut but you're giving him a run for his money", he smirks.

"Wh..at?", you pant, your concentration driven away each time his hips slap against yours.

"You've forgotten", his voice drops lower, "Mori can walk in any second"

He grunts as you clench around him but there is no reason to fear. A single pencil stands to block the gate, covered in a reddish glow that shines light on the slight cracks its weight is leaving on the floor.

"As if", he takes your lips in his, "I'm not letting any one of those assholes get a glimpse of you"

There was no reason to tense, yet that slight sudden tightness made you feel Chuuya so much more as he dragged his length inside you.

"Look at you, spread out for me like this", he pants, "Fucking masterpiece"

His index reaches down to press frantic circles on your clit as he sacrifices force for speed in his pounding. His hand presses you down, his fingers tracing down the centre of your torso as he admires your sweaty figure. You cover your mouth as your moans climb to a higher pitch than they've ever reached before. He grabs your hand and pulls it away.

"You're not walking out of here without everyone knowing how well I make you feel", he grunts, "They've already learnt the same about me"

"Chuuya..."

"Say it louder", he's hips rail into you, pulling out your voice by force.

"CHUUYA!", your mind goes blank as he hits your g-spot again and again until he has you trembling around him, a white ring forming around his length as he fucks you through your orgasm. You pull at his hair. He heaves above you. Soon, he can't hold back anymore. You feel his length convulse inside you as he fills you, his lips blindly searching for any part of your skin to kiss. The two of you remain in each other's embrace as you catch your breaths.

"Saturday....my house", he pants and he does not have to explain further.

"Who told you...I'll come...?"

He scoffs before giving you one more thrust. You bury your fingers in his hair as you pull at the strands. "You were saying?"

"God...you're a bastard"

He pulls out and gives you his hand to stand. He continues to support you as your legs wiggle underneath your weight. He turns you around to crush your back on his chest. His hands wrap around your torso, his lips leaving love marks on your skin. You see the blurred image of Yokohama as your tired gaze focuses on the window. Chuuya sits on the table as he pulls you closer. One hand travels back to your folds, the other turns your head towards him so he can claim your lips.

"You get on my nerves", he bites your lip, "Do you know how many of my men lust after you?".

His knee opens back your legs so his fingers can snake inside the warmth of your walls. He pinches one of your nipples with his other hand, swallowing your moans in a fervent kiss.

"But I can't shut them up 'cause I have no claim on you".

His fingers leave you. A moment later they reappear in front of your neck as they wrap his chocker around it. He ties it on the back and turns the buckle to the front like the collar of a cat.

"Chuuya...", as the sun disappears and the night prevails, your reflections dominate the glass window, burying the city behind them.

Chuuya plants some biting kisses on your shoulder as his hands fondle your breasts. "Be mine", he says, "I want to be your everything cause fuck you already are mine"

"Are you playing me?", you whisper as he leaves trails of kisses on your skin, "You hate me".

"I fucking do", he tightens his embrace, "Do you know why? Cause I love you. I hate you, 'cause I love you. So. Bloody. Much. It hurts.". He kisses your bare back before letting his forehead rest on it. "I swear", he says, "You ripped my fucking heart out and took it as your own the moment you stepped foot in this godforsaken place"

Words are meaningless in this world. They can be vain or fake or forged. But the way his arms clung around you could not be anything but honest and true.

#chuuya nakahara #bsd #bsd smut #chuuya x reader #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #chuuya smut #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya nakahara x you #chuuya bsd #bsd chuuya #smut #anime #anime smut

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livixbobbiex · 2 years

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12 ADHD hacks that are actually helpful

Record EVERYTHING in your phone's calendar app the moment you find out about it. Mine gives me an alarm automatically before the calendar time - has saved my ass many times.

Get a little bowl or equivalent for objects like keys. That's now your key bowl. You will not lose them ever again.

Write down deadlines as early before they're actually due as you can justify. My ADHD ass never remembers the actual due date. I get all of the stress fuelled productivity with none of the actual danger.

Handwrite notes. I have no idea why, but the process of pen and paper makes me remember things much better.

If you have to be somewhere like class or work, set aside time to go for a walk first. Honestly would be great all days, but I can't even make myself do this, so it's good if you have to be out anyway (and maybe would have been in waiting mode). Burning off energy helps my brain.

When retrieving laundry (ie its dry and you have to fold it), dump it all out in the most inconvenient place possible. I like the bed. It forces me to deal with it, rather than letting it sit there.

Turn on subtitles when you watch anything - even YouTube and live TV. I didn't realise how lifechanging this was until last year.

The Breath of the Wild soundtrack is weirdly the best background music ever. It's the perfect level of stimulating without distracting

Use text to speech for long walls of text. It's great.

Did I mention phone alarms? I use it for everything - ie when I know I might hyperfocus on something for too long.

There's literally no obligation to eat 3 meals at set times. If eating snacks throughout the day works better for you, then do that. There's also no shame in things like pre chopped fruit/veggies.

I struggle with transitions sometimes. A way around this is keeping a ton of water next to me. When I get frustrated about being stuck, I just drink as much water as I can. Eventually, this means I have to pee, and physically cannot ignore it. The act of going to the bathroom is sometimes enough to change activity.

Disclaimer that this is my own experience with ADHD, which may be totally different to someone else's. But hey, these are some things I've always found useful.

EDIT because this has a lot of reblogs wow! Please feel free to share even if you're a different type of neurodiverse, or even straight up neurotypical. At the end of the day most of these are focus/executive dysfunction tips, and I'm glad they're useful no matter what your situation is!

#adhd #neurodiversity #actually adhd #neurodivergent

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coochiequeens · 1 year

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An update to an older story that’s goods news!

When Jenny Nguyen signed the lease to create her dream bar, she wasn’t sure it would stay open for more than a few months.

But earlier this month, 43-year-old Nguyen’s first-of-its-kind establishment in Portland, Oregon, celebrated its one-year anniversary. Aptly named The Sports Bra, it’s a sports bar where only women athletes appear on the TVs.

Business has been good, despite the niche business model and record inflation sending food and beverage prices soaring. The Sports Bra brought in $944,000 in revenue in the eight months it was open in 2022, according to documents reviewed by CNBC Make It.

It was profitable in that first year of business, Nguyen adds.

“It turns out, it’s pretty universal — that feeling of being a women’s sports fan and going into a public place, like a sports bar, and having a difficult time finding a place to show a [women’s] game, especially when there are other men’s sports playing,” Nguyen says.

Initially, she wasn’t sure the idea would work at all. The vast majority of money and attention historically goes to men’s sports only — a big reason why The Sports Bra was reportedly the country’s first bar to only play women’s sports on TV.

It’s also not the kind of thing Nguyen would ordinarily do: She describes herself as “very cautious, risk averse.” But her obsession with women’s sports and frustration with its lack of representation on television screens drove her to empty her life savings — about $27,000 — and give it a try.

“Me, personally, I thought the idea was brilliant and that [it was] what the world needs,” Nguyen says. “But I had no idea that the world would want it. I just wanted to give it a shot.”

How The Sports Bra went from running joke to reality

Nguyen is a lifelong basketball fan who played the sport at Clark College in Vancouver, Washington, before tearing her ACL. She’s also a longtime restaurant worker who spent three years as Reed College’s executive chef.

In 2018, Nguyen and a group of friends wanted to watch the NCAA women’s basketball championship game. They went to a mostly empty sports bar and still had to plead with a bartender to switch one of the smallest TVs — which played without sound — from a men’s sport to the women’s championship game, she recalls.

Together, they jumped up and down celebrating “one of the best games I’ve ever seen,” Nguyen says, as a buzzer-beating three-point shot sealed the championship title for Notre Dame. Afterward, she was struck by the normalcy of her situation.

″[We’d] gotten so used to watching a game like that in the way that we did,” she says, adding that they’d only find better viewing conditions “if we had our own place.”

Days later, she channeled her disappointment into a hypothetical: What would she name her bar? “The very first thing that came into my mind was The Sports Bra,” Nguyen says. “And once I thought it, I couldn’t un-think it, you know? It was catchy. I thought it was hilarious.”

For years, she joked about it. Then, the fallout from social justice movements like #MeToo and the country’s racial reckoning after George Floyd’s murder left her wanting to make a meaningful impact on the world and her community.

Nguyen, who came out as a lesbian at age 17, says she doesn’t always feel welcome at most traditional sports bars. The Sports Bra could help her, and anyone else who’d rarely felt accepted in other sports establishments, feel like she belonged.

“I thought about, if we can even get one kid in here and have them feel like they belong in sports, it’d be worth it,” she says.

Helping other women’s sports bars get started

At first, Nguyen had her savings, and $40,000 in loans cobbled together from friends and family. That would keep The Sports Bra afloat for three months, based on her cost estimates for labor, inventory and other overhead.

In February 2022, she launched a Kickstarter to raise $48,000 — enough money for an extra six-month financial cushion, to build up the sort of regular clientele any bar or restaurant needs to survive long-term.

To Nguyen’s surprise, the campaign raised more than $105,000 in just 30 days, thanks to a viral article in online food publication Eater. “At that moment, when I was looking at that Kickstarter graph, I thought to myself, ‘This might work,’” she says.

But the money, which came from around the country and world, was no guarantee of success. Actual people in Portland still needed to frequent the bar.

Today, there’s often a line out the door. Women’s basketball icons like Sue Bird and Diana Taurasi showed up, for an event sponsored by Buick, earlier this month. Ginny Gilder, co-owner of the WNBA’s Seattle Storm, has even waited in line to watch her team play on The Sports Bra’s TVs, Nguyen says.

That’s a far cry from the Kickstarter days, which Nguyen says only happened after she was denied business loans by multiple banks and small business associations. The denials commonly cited the high risk of a unique concept run by a first-time entrepreneur during a pandemic, she adds.

Even the bar’s core concept is a struggle: It’s hard to find enough women’s sporting events to fill up the televisions. Only about 5% of all TV sports coverage focuses on female athletes, according to a 2021 University of Southern California study.

Nguyen says she’s taken to reaching out directly to sports networks and streaming services, some of which have hooked her up with access to more women’s sports content. She also spends an inordinate amount of time “scouring” TV listings, a process she likens to “taking a machete and chopping through a jungle.”

But she’s no longer alone. Another bar specializing in women’s sports has opened in nearby Seattle, and Nguyen says she’s in touch with a handful of other prospective entrepreneurs asking her for advice on opening similar visions in other cities.

“I would love to have as many people experience the feeling people experience when they walk through these doors,” she says. “It feels very selfish to keep it to this one building that holds 40 people at a time.”

#USA #oregon #Portland #jenny nguyen #The Sports Bra #A sports bar for women and women’s sports #She was originally denied business loans

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microclown · 9 months

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Crowley and Aziraphale's communication in the final 15 is bad, but going back through the season I've realized it's even more prevalent than I thought…

not all of these miscommunications are a problem, but they barely have one interaction that doesn't include some form of lack of communication, so I thought it was worth highlighting the pattern

List under the cut, analysis at the end

Aziraphale doesn't tell Crowley about the naked man, Nina does

Aziraphale doesn't tell him it's Gabriel, he tell him it's Jim, Crowley sees it's Gabriel

"I feel like your exactly and my exactly are different exactlys" (aka miscommunication- assuming they're on the same page when they're not)

Cowley doesn't tell Aziraphale the stakes, that he could be erased from the book of life for helping Gabriel

The Apology dance is literally dancing around the issue. He doesn't want to apologize because he doesn't believe he is in the wrong, but they never talk through it, they just move forward

"Ah, we're going to the pub!" As they're walking in the door. so Aziraphale didn't tell him where they were going, he just lead him there??

Aziraphale and Crowley don't agree on how to get Nina and Maggie together, but they go ahead and execute their own plans without discussing it further. Crowley does ask "I'm lost, am I doing a rainstorm?" but Aziraphale has already moved on and doesn't answer him. He's already decided the ball is the better option, but he doesn't communicate that. Later, Crowley tries to tell Aziraphale about his plan with the rainstorm, but Aziraphale ignores him. "You don't want to hear about my plan?" Then when Crowley tells him the rainstorm plan was a bust, Aziraphale has no idea what he's talking about.

After telling Crowley about the Clue, Aziraphle doesn't let them discuss it at all. He literally cuts Crowley off from asking any questions about it "no! not another word."

When Aziraphale asks to take the Bentley, he doesn't really ask, he's telling Crowley he's going to take it. Crowley says no indirectly "You can't drive my Bentley." Aziraphale explains that he can drive because he has a license. So Crowley says "No" plainly. Aziraphale ignores him. Crowley says "No" again, louder, clearer, slaps Aziraphale's hand away, but Aziraphale still ignores him.

When Aziraphale tells Crowley what he learned about Gabriel in Edinburgh, they never discuss it fully because Crowley cuts him off to execute his rainstorm that they've also never fully discussed.

Neither Aziraphale or Crowley tell the other that Shax confronted them. More importantly, Aziraphale doesn't tell Crowley that Shax tricked him into revealing that Gabriel is in the bookshop.

Aziraphale is very coy with Crowley while planning the ball "wait and see!" He never actually tells Crowley his plan.

When Aziraphale suggests "just talking" to Gabriel, he looks pleased when Crowley says "Actually, I will." He doesn't seems to read Crowley's tone. Crowley then proceeded to yell at Gabriel and tells him to jump out a window. Probably not what Aziraphale had in mind.

Of course, the whole scene in the ball. Crowley doesn't tell Aziraphale about the demons straight away, he leads with a seemingly less urgent "somethings wrong". Aziraphale is barely listening anyway. He's too in his own world, too caught up in psyching himself up to ask Crowley to dance.

After the demons storm the ball, Aziraphale tells Crowley he's got a suggestion, but Crowley cuts him off "I've got it."

Crowley doesn't tell Aziraphale what he learned in Heaven. He doesn't tell him about Armageddon part 2, or that Gabriel was fired for not wanting to go ahead with it. He doesn't even tell him this during their big fight at the end, when you would think it would be a convincing point towards Aziraphel staying.

Neil has revealed that Crowley never told Aziraphale that he was living in his car

And then their final argument is laden with miscommunication, (people have gone into great depths analyzing this already, but I’ll just sum it up so it’s included) - Aziraphale assumes Crowley would want to be an angel again, but they’ve clearly never discussed this. Crowley assumes Aziraphale is on the same page with why heaven is so bad, but they’ve clearly not fully discussed this either. Crowley can barely look at Aziraphale when he’s confessing. He can’t get out the word “partner.” He can’t finish his sentence “I would like to spend…” Then there’s “nothing lasts forever” which Crowley interprets entirely differently from Aziraphale’s intention. “I don’t think you understand what I’m offering you” “I understand, and I think I understand a whole lot better than you.” And then, when Crowley has given up on trying to communicate verbally, he kisses Aziraphale as a last “Hail Mary” to get him to understand. But of course he doesn’t. That’s not communication.

So.

If you’re still with me, what’s the point of laying all this out? Well, a couple of things. I’ll try to organize my thoughts coherently.

Crowley and Aziraphale’s communication is beyond a simple fix

It is so much worse than I originally thought. What they need is couples therapy. They both need to become aware of the broken way they relate to each other, and they need to do a lot of work on listening to each other, giving each other space to talk, and being honest with what they know and how they are feeling. We needed someone to call them out, make them aware of this, but Nina and Maggie TRIED this season, and it was not enough. Unfortunately, I’m fairly confident season 3 will not just be six hour long couples therapy sessions. I’m not sure how much room for working on communication skills there will be at all. Neil has described season three as big, loud, and action packed. I have no idea how this issue will be resolved in that context.

Something horrible I realized when making this list. Crowley’s relationship with Aziraphale is beginning to mirror his toxic relationship with heaven. Aziraphale develops a plan- taking care of Gabriel, investigating the clue, organizing the ball. He wants things to go just the way he has in mind. He does not let Crowley say no. He does not let Crowley ask questions!!! And now Aziraphale is running heaven? What makes us think he would treat Crowley any differently in a real position of power? It would have been so. bad. if Crowley accepted Aziraphale’s offer. Yes, Aziraphale and Crowley are on the same page on preserving the world and humanity, and yes they love each other and want to be with each other, but when it comes to what to do about it, they don’t see eye to eye. And neither of them know how to properly collaborate or communicate.

Finally, why do Aziraphale and Crowleyhide things from one another? Simply, they don’t really trust each other. I mean they do, sort of, but not entirely. They have a deeper trust. They trust that the other cares about them, and won't harm them intentionally, but they have so many deep rooted issues with trust from their past with heaven and hell that it overflows into their relationship. People have said Crowley keeps information from Aziraphale to protect him, but that also comes from a place of mistrust. He doesn’t trust Aziraphale to protect himself. He doesn’t trust him to do what he would do with that information. Similarly, Aziraphale doesn’t trust Crowley to let him do things his way. They don’t know how to collaborate! Not really. It's something they want, but were never taught. Collaboration was never encouraged in Heaven or hell.

#not sure I believe in the final point anymore #I think their motivation for lying can be summed up to Crowley is being protective and Aziraphale is in denial #reposting because I needed to make some edits #this is mostly to organize my thougts #I might make some separate posts later #good omens #ineffable husbands #aziraphale x crowley #crowley #aziraphale #crowley x arizaphale #good omens season 2 #good omens 2 #go 2 #gos2 #neil gaiman #good omens analysis #good omens meta

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metalheads-trash-bin · 4 months

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Hello everyone! My name is Toby, I’m a beginner writer and love to make shit uber realistic for readers. Here’s all the info about my stuff!

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Key:

Ships

Notices

Warnings

Fandoms

Baseline importance

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So far I have three fanfics, a fourth is on the way.

All of my fics will be linked down below! They are wips, so please be patient. Each has their own schedule so make sure to read!

All fanfics will have nsfw, and I don’t mean the basic “stick penis in hole” shit. I mean detailed, loving, and non vanilla nsfw.

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TROLLS:

The first one is my all time fav: Fliff! It goes into Floyd’s trauma, his healing, and realistic dynamics between the characters. This fanfic will be updated twice a week, it used to be updated every day but that’s not survivable long term for me ^^

The second one is Breek! Creek is in no way infantilized in this fanfic. I look at things in a psychological aspect and make damn well sure he’s not babygirlified. This fic goes into Creek’s trauma, Branch’s trauma, allll the trauma, a bunch of healing, and a little bit of angst. It’s updated whenever I feel, but it won’t be abandoned or rarely touched!

The third one is John Dory x Reader! In this it talks about JD’s trauma, some headcanons of his diagnostics, and a bunch of intimate stuff and heart to heart stuff. He is not glamorized in this fic, instead he’s recovering and in therapy. He also has a smallll teeny weeny alcohol issue, but he’s in therapy for that as well! The reader is a trans male, fat L if you can’t handle that. <3 It’s updated whenever I feel just like the Breek fic, but it won’t be abandoned or rarely touched!

The fics are interconnected, so if you see a ship or lore that’s in one of them, assume it’ll be mentioned or involved in the other!

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CREEPYPASTA:

I am currently working on ideas for a rework of a Jeff x reader fic I read. It had a really nice plot but the execution was absolutely horrendous + it was abandoned. I’ll type more info as I update!

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Where else you can contact me or see my content:

Insta: _.metalheads.trash.bin._

Twitter: _mhs_trash_bin_

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And with that…

!!Release the hounds!!

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TROLLS:

Summary:

Floyd is forced into therapy after Branch takes him to his annual checkup since he's staying with him.

Branch's reason for sending him being that he notices Floyd's facade of "being fine" and totally not traumatized even toward a doctor. This leads to him sitting in therapy, which in turn gives him homework. Whats the first assignment you ask?

Making friends besides your brothers and Poppy.

Who better than Barb, the queen of rock, as a starting point??

Summary:

It was the last few weeks of fall, Branch heading to the forest to get the final harvest for the season. There were rumors of an animal lurking around the farm, he didn't realize that that animal was a familiar face.

Summary:

You're a metal/rock troll starting a new life in Pop Village. During one of your bonding activities with Branch, you notice a large creature in the meadow.

Why not pay the owner a visit??

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CREEPYPASTA:

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PS. I have a shit ton of playlists on Spotify of ships, characters, and more! Check em out down below~

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Enjoy! <3

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wriothesleybear · 7 months

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Being the new inmate at the fortress. And having a hard time starting there not knowing the Duke has an interest in you. Everyone begins to notice and starts to treat you nice, calling you 'The lady' and addressing you as 'My lady' which catches you off guard.

You get better quality meals more frequently and that's not including the other inmates sharing theirs, the guards start acting more formal and respectful towards you, letting you slack off more. The other inmates surround you, acting as some sort of bodyguard. You don't know what you did but you can't tell if you like it or not.

Things get even stranger when Sigewinne frequently visits you but you both become friends because she's a sweetheart, giving opportunity for her to pass information to The Duke about you.

Then comes the random gifts of your favourite snacks, drinks, flowers, books and such...

You accept it all but you can't help but wonder. Why all this for me?

Love this idea! This is gonna be a somewhat yandere!Wriothesley. It's basically love at first sight for Wrio. When he first saw you, he knew you had to be his. At first, he would do things behind the scenes such as what you said above: having everyone call you lady, have everyone treat you with respect, giving you special treatment, etc. When he told everyone to start calling you lady, that was his way of claiming you as his and to warn everyone to back off. You probably don't want to know what happens to the inmates and guards who don't leave you alone.

You meet him for the first time when he calls you to his office one day. You were nervous going to his office because you thought you did something wrong and was in trouble but it turned out he called you for a tea date. He would greet you at the door, kiss your knuckles like the gentleman he is, and guide you to sit down on the couch in his office. There were so many yummy sweet treats and a tea set with two cups on the table. He bought all these expensive teas for you to try with him. It was a fun date with him where you got to know more about him. You thought he was a scary guy from all the rumors you heard but it turns out he's a sweet and funny guy. When you ask him why he gives you special treatment and spoils you, that's when he confesses his feelings.

If you accept his feelings, he'll be thrilled and spoil you more than you can ever imagine. More gifts like jewelry, expensive clothes, and more special treatment but also lots of affection from him, special visits to his office, and you basically don't have to work because he provides the money and things you want. Your only job is to sit on his lap and keep him company in his office while he has to read through boring paperwork. When he buys you new outfits, he has you put on a little fashion show in his office so you can show them off to him. It may or may not end up in him just ravaging you (he cant help himself when you look so sexy and beautiful to him🥺) Besides spoiling you with gifts, he also shows his love through physical touch. He expects hopes you reciprocate his love and affection by spoiling him with your own affection. Smother him with kisses, hugs, and words of affirmation. Words help ease his worries and fears. Deep inside he has his own worries and insecurities and he hopes you never leave him and continue to give him your love forever as will he.

If you don't return his feelings, he'll be understanding, but he'll just try harder to sweep you off your feet. Every minute he gets of free time, he uses it to come up with plans on how to swoon you and execute those plans so you can understand and accept the feelings he has for you. You'll eventually fall for him since he doesn't give up.

I hope you enjoy anon🥰❤️

#wriothesley #wriothesley headcanons #wriothesley x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact x reader

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somewhereincairparavel · 1 month

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If Percy can control a goddess's tears and saliva, poison, and water in a person's lungs, then why can't Jason and Thalia suck air out of someone's lungs to make them momentarily stop breathing atleast for a little while or smth? it's very much possible, i swear am i the only one who feels like the Grace siblings were severely underpowered considering that they're the children of the king of all gods? i get that uncle Rick probably didnt want them to overpower or overshadow Percy, but they could've had atleast a little more power.

Also, it's kinda obvious that Jason constantly getting knocked out is just a cheap and not very subtle way to make sure Jason doesn't "take" Percy's spotlight imo. Rick kind of overdid that to the point it became a joke, it's like he was afraid percy won't be seen as "cool" anymore, if jason had surpassed him, so he did everything he could to undermine jason's power to best of his ability, while simultaneously shoe-horning that jason is a Roman legend who had great achievements. Fine, don't give him new achievements, but couldn't we have gotten a flashback of his old achievements atleast? His fight with trojan, or him toppling the black throne, and fighting krios, atleast in Reyna's pov? Jason winning atleast one solid fight wont hurt anything or make us love percy any less.

It's clear that Rick CHOSE Jason to be Percy's equal or foil, but he never actually wrote them as equals with fair amount of power imo, it was a good idea to have them as parallels, but the execution was terrible. It made it seem like Jason simply exists for the sole purpose of making Percy look better (which isn't even necessary, mind you, bc Percy is always our OG king), by saying "ha! See! Percy is so much better than this useless upstart of a hero!" By giving him all the bad stuff percy doesn't have.

It's kind of like Cho from Harry Potter "existing" to make Ginny look like the superior partner for Harry and was discarded as soon as she served her purpose, scarily like Jason.

Jason's character deserved sm better. He had a great backstory, all he needed was a little more spice to his personality + a little more power

#like even hazel and nico had reasonable amount of power #thalia was just shipped off to the hunters just to be discarded IMO #and Jason was killed off #pjo #pjo fandom #pjo hoo #percy jackson #jason grace #pjo series #thalia grace #leo valdez #hazel levesque #frank zhang #nico di angelo

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writingwithfolklore · 3 months

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A Note for New Writers

When I started this blog, one of my goals was to compile advice that I hadn’t really seen online anywhere. Stuff a little bit beyond the foundations I was already very familiar with. I took university courses and different approaches to writing combined with my own experience and lessons from the mentors and teachers around me, and began to write it all down to share with you.

The idea was never that you would start writing your first character with Character is Plot say. However, I noticed there are a lot of new, beginner, or learning writers on here, and there’s a great value in really nailing the foundations, so here marks the start of a short series of foundational advice for you new writers (or for writers who have been around the block and may need a refresher. I know I do!)

I see a lot of new writers in the tags looking down on yourselves or your ability. Stuff like, ‘why can’t I seem to do this’ or ‘if only I could actually follow this advice’. My posts were never meant to make you feel like you aren’t good enough. It was written with over a decade of experience behind it. It takes time to build those instincts in knowing what to do. Unfortunately you can’t just build writing skill by reading and collecting articles—they can be a guide, but they aren’t meant to instantly come naturally to you “if only you were a good writer.”

No one can automatically learn how to write just from reading some advice because writing skill isn’t about the knowing, it’s about the practicing.

And it takes a hell of a lot of practice.

Writing is mostly intuition—we practice certain skills to get them to a place where we can just do them without really thinking about it. It’s kind of like when you were learning to type, and you had to constantly remind yourself to put periods at the ends of your sentences. Then, over time and a million reminders, you started to just do it on instinct without really thinking about it.

It’s muscle memory, it’s trying again and again, it’s a lot of struggling and tears and feedback and more tears and a million and one false starts and unfinished drafts and finished drafts that are really bad and lost contests and rejections. I have been through it all. I’m still going through it all. Only recently have I been published—it took me over a decade of practice to get there. Oh, and in the same month one of my pieces was published, another was rejected.

That’s how it goes. It’s not some switch that will one day flick where you’re ‘good enough’. And the timeline isn’t so set. While I was working on building up skill, I was also working on building up confidence. In the right publications, with enough confidence, I probably could’ve been published years ago. In the right place, and if you’re brave enough to submit, you probably could too.

It’s about who sees it, very rarely does it really depend on how ‘good’ it is (and you can tell from all the published work that can’t possibly be better than your unpublished work, right?)

TL;DR, writing isn’t about the knowing, it’s about time, patience, and practice. If you’re reading advice and don’t feel good enough to execute on it, just take a little bit more time and get a hundred thousand more words under your belt. One day, it will just become intuition.

You will get there.

#writing #creative writing #writers #screenwriting #writing community #writing inspiration #filmmaking #books #film #writing advice #new writers #advice for new writers #a note for new writers #beginner writer

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mvltisstuff · 6 months

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Heyy, i love your fics so michh, can u make Buck x reader, they have a newborn girl and reader is stressed because the baby won't stop crying and buck helps her. Take your time!💋

close to you - e.b

summary: request

evan buckley x reader

gif

a/n: this is such a great idea, and i’m so happy you asked me to execute it <3 madeline is also inspired by the name maddie, as i feel like that’s so cute for buck :((

madeline was a gift from the moment y/n took time off work because of her pregnancy. she was a gift the moment they decided on a name. she was a gift the moment she entered the world in the small hospital room.

however, y/n despised herself for thinking part of it was a curse. she loved her daughter more than anything in the world despite the short amount of weeks that she had arrived. buck had gone back to work, but y/n needed more time to recover from the birth. she got the pleasure of staying home with her baby, and she genuinely thought so.

it wasn’t until the constant screams came through madeline’s mouth that y/n started to get more and more tensed. her head was pounding, her body was sore and she just wanted to give her baby peace.

she felt like the worst mother in the world, not being able to comfort or secure her baby girl. she figured it would come naturally. in reality, it’s never been harder.

she cried when she was hungry, needed a diaper change, sleepy, or she just cried. it seemed like it was always that she just cried and screamed. it burned in y/n’s ear painfully as she listened to the squeals of her daughter. she just wanted her to be happy, and buck wasn’t there to help.

“mad, please.” y/n begged when her eyes started to water again, and the quiet squeaks left her baby’s soft cheeks. “i’m so sorry, i want to help you.”

y/n sighed as she rocked the baby in her arms, the bags under her eyes only getting darker as she stayed up with madeline. buck was exhausted when he came home, so he just went to sleep. y/n was fine with that as he did everything he could for his girls, all the time.

she’d be lying if she said she didn’t miss buck every hour.

he had some type of paternal magic to him that eased madeline. it brought her down to earth, and it gave y/n time to relax. her hormones were all over to place. every time her baby cried, it flooded her body was sadness and exhaustion. she was deeply jealous of buck secretly because of the ease he seemed to have with handling their child.

“hey, dad,” hen smiled, seeing buck walk back into the station after a few weeks with his wife and baby alone. “how’s y/n and the baby?”

“they’re good, i feel so bad leaving them though.”

“it’s hard to leave, that’s the last thing i wanted to do when we first got denny.”

“it’s just- i talk to you about anything, right?”

“of course, buck! what makes you say that, though.”

“madeline cries a lot, and i can just tell in y/n’s face that somethings wrong. i mean, i get that babies cry, but it just seems like it’s taking a huge toll on y/n. i don’t want her thinking she’s a bad mom, and if what happened to maddie happens to her,” buck thinks back to his sister, who went to hell and back trying to be a better mom for jee-yun. it breaks his heart to even consider y/n feeling left in the dark the same way. “i can’t handle that.”

“listen, buck,” hen lands a hand on his shoulder. “it’s going to be ok. you could even go for a little longer off work, you came back really soon.”

“y/n said it’d be good for us, and make me happier.”

“but is it making things easier? you both need to be doing this together. y/n’s saying a lot of stuff she doesn’t mean, and her mind is running at a 100 miles an hour.”

“i know,” buck says. “i’m gonna see her after the shift, i’ll talk to bobby. see what i can do.”

y/n continued to pace around the kitchen for hours, her lower back beginning to ache and her ears hurting from the wails of the baby in her arms. she tried everything from feeding her to rocking her in her swing, but nothing seemed to stop the cries of her daughter.

“madeline, please, i’m begging you,” y/n whines, practically on her knees for her child to stop crying.

the cries quickly started to blend in, y/n realizing that they’ll never go away. she wasn’t sick or anything, y/n repeatedly checked, but madeline still was just simply unhappy. and, y/n swore she was the problem.

buck arrived home late in the night, hours past dinner and inching closer to the bedtime of their casual family. when he opened the door, he just knew that y/n was in there with their baby, struggling to hang on and fix the problem.

“y/n?” he calls out, wandering around their home and finally landing in the nursery. the light purple walls and decorations were darkened, y/n and madeline sitting in the chair together. y/n’s shirt had been pulled down so she was able to feed madeline, but it seemed like no use. the baby in her arms was still weeping and throwing her tiny hands around. “oh, y/n.”

her blank expression told it all, along with the dark bags under her eyes. “she’s so upset, buck, i don’t know what to do.” y/n murmurs slightly over the cries of the baby.

“it’s ok, honey, we’re gonna figure it out.” y/n’s eyes just water with each tear that drops from madeline’s eyes. “no, no, it’s okay, y/n.”

“i’m sorry, i’m just so tired.”

“i know, i’m here now. we can fix this, okay?” y/n swipes under her eyes, taking in sharp breaths and trying to steady herself. “hey, honey, listen to me. you’re ok, madeline’s ok, i’m ok. we’ll be alright.

she nods as his arm touches her side, the baby wrapped in his other arm. “alright. why don’t you hold her, and i’m gonna go see if our noise machine is here yet.”

buck rustles through packages and gifts from their baby shower and tries to find anything that might help their girl sleep, and anything that will bring relief to y/n.

“i found it! it’ll be white noise, which we should’ve tried sooner. i don’t know if it’ll work, but it won’t hurt to try.”

buck allowed y/n to place the baby in her crib, letting her tiny body rest against the soft mattress. they turned the lights off and plugged in the machine, which sang out the staticky white noise that calmed their daughter.

her crying started to come to a halt after a bit of hearing the noise, her adorable little eyes shutting after a bit to finally rest. y/n could feel her whole body relax under seeing her baby finally sleep, as it had felt like days.

she felt like crying, she felt like sleeping, but she also felt like she had so much to do. the house was a mess, her baby had finally gotten to sleep, but she also wanted to sleep. it felt like one thing after another, and buck looked over again to see a y/n staring at the ground.

“what’s the matter? talk to me, y/n.”

“i’m not cut out for this,” her shaky voice comes out, his hands on the sides of her arms.

“what? of course you are!”

“i can barely manage to keep this house together, let alone keep our baby happy and i haven’t even been able to go back to work! i feel like shit and i just want to be happy with my baby, but i don’t even know if she’s happy and-“

“alright, i know,” she allows herself to fall into bucks grasp, as he worries silently for her in his mind. he can feel the exhaustion venting off her body, begging for sleep and somewhere to lay in peace and quiet. “i don’t want you worrying about anything else. let’s go to sleep, and i’m gonna help you, i promise. i’m never leaving either of your sides.”

his arms warmly grasp her body clad in a soft set. he leads her to their shared bed, pulling the blankets out and holding her as she finally gets her deserved sleep.

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