#and honestly they are right I will just get another fucking laundry basket and stop fighting with myself

[generalslime]

Instead of buying the edgeworth shirt I was so responsible and bought a laundry basket and dish rack and new phone case please clap

#my dish rack is so horrible it was the cheapest thing I could find when o first moved here and was supremely broke like 2 years ago #and I’m getting a new laundry basket bc my clean laundry ends up staying in my current laundry basket for weeks until I finally make myself #deal with it and then my dirty clothes are just everywhere #and I saw some post that was like #why make things harder for yourself when you know there is a solution but you refuse to do it bc you think it should be done the other way #and honestly they are right I will just get another fucking laundry basket and stop fighting with myself #and my phone case is absolutely falling apart it’s honestly really bad #and I need this thing to last another 2 years at least (I am hoping it’s been kind of struggling lately)

[rippedfleshh]

clocky & toby

༶•┈┈┈┈┈┈୨♡୧┈┈┈┈┈•༶

they’re a complicated duo that fit perfectly within each other’s fucked up jagged puzzle pieces.

I wouldn’t say they’re toxic, just complex and complicated. throwing together two serial killers who most likely have attachment issues (for diff reasons) and anger issues is bound to be slightly rocky at first.

that being said, they never intentionally hurt each other or have malicious intent towards one another. their expression of love is just slightly more complex or strange.

you’ll never hear clocky tell toby she loves him. but, she’ll listen to his rambles for hours on end and carry out any drawing requests he asks. she doesn’t write him love letters and continuously shower him in constant compliments. instead, she’ll maybe splurge a bit of cash to buy him a pocket knife she thinks he’d like. she also has crow like tendencies id say, picking up little bones or rocks in the woods she thinks he’d like. yes, she’s short on words and doesn’t quite know what to say but best believe she is showing her love for him in one way or another.

now for toby, unlike what you would expect and quite literally the opposite of clocky, he knows all the right things to say. but there’s always a time and a place. if he were to say sweet things to her all the time it would become the norm. toby doesn’t want that. he wants his words to convey meaning and genuinely make an impact on her. so on the nights that everything is quiet and maybe they’re sitting by a fire, he’ll lean over and whisper sweet, teeth rotting shit to her. also, love letters. he absolutely lovessss writing her love letters and means every damn word in all three pages. when it’s not words it’s in touches. gentle and almost unnoticeable. of course, she notices every single one though.

now for the complicated part. they have their fair share of fights and some of them get pretty bad. there’s not really a common theme but more so a common route of progression. they both are stubborn as hell and don’t know when to stop so this is where they clash heads. ultimately, they both realize they’re adults and sit to talk the shit out. afterwards, there’s either awkward silence for awhile or toby being… toby.

“you’re so pretty when you’re pissed off, I ever tell you that sweetheart?” “go fuck yourself”

“you know, if you’re jealous just say that.” “i will throw your ass into a table right fucking now.” “try it, bitch.”

“toby if you leave your bloody, sweat soaked clothes in my fucking laundry basket again im going to wreck your shit.” “fuck off dude, you’re always bitching.” “say some wack shit like that again and I will have your head on a fucking stick” “yes ma’am.” (he does it to get a reaction from her, but she knows this teehee)

neither of them take shit from the other and it’s almost perfect, because there’s no sensitivity. but, there’s always a boundary and when they’re crossed is when shit gets twisted. it’s honestly quite rare though because both are smart enough to know what’s appropriate and not.

so, they’re a cute couple (who happen to be serial killers). and no, they don’t kill together because their tactics are too different and they’d stress each other out.

#lockspastatalk #creepypasta #clockwork #ticci toby #ticciwork #toby rogers #natalie ouellette #they’re so cute omg #i love them #clocky & toby

[ms0milk]

in disbelief at your own happiness

| ft Tengen, Giyuu, and Levi

a/n: thx for the request anon! had to get a liiiiiiittle creative for this one

Tengen

*this* fucking guy

is so used to blowing people’s minds

blowing his wifes’ minds

not like that stop

he prioritizes his loved ones’ safety over his own

because their happiness truly is his happiness

even though he can be such an unbelievable dick

and that’s exactly what happened one night in the bath

Tengen sat you between his legs, both hands smoothing a hot washcloth over your back. Up and down. He pressed softly between your shoulder blades and along your spine after an exhausting mission. He was only washing your back. You’d just washed his. Why were there tears in your eyes?

“Oi, what’s with the waterworks?”

Of course he noticed before you had.

“Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head, turned around to look at him, to smile and show him you were fine, but instead when you turned around and saw those sleepy fuschia eyes, more and more tears rolled out of your’s.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he wiped at your face with the washcloth, “C’mon it’s too late to be so flashy, are you hurt?”

You shook your head again and reached for his hand to stop him drying your eyes. “Thank you for washing my back.”

“That’s my job sweetheart, you don’t have to thank me.”

Your face crinkled up at this and you sank into his open, but surprised, arms. No one had ever taken the time to care for you so gently, let alone someone as wonderful as Tengen.

“Thank you for loving me.”

“That’s my favorite job, Y/n! I beat out every other schmuck in the world just so I could have you for myself.”

Giyuu

he is not well liked among his peers

gloomy

quiet

the respect he gets is due mostly to his incredible sword skills

and his lively s/o!

it’s honestly mostly you

the Hashira adore you

you defend him against the pillars in bouts of teasing and you bring the cutest party snacks

you’re nowhere near as sullen as he is

and he is absolutely head over heels in love with you

he might not be the most expressive lover

but he brings you all kinds of gifts and trinkets from missions

when he stays over at your house, he likes to get the housework done before you wake up so that your days are carefree

this morning he’s come home early from a mission

in one piece thank god

You dropped your laundry basket when the glint of Giyuu’s scabbard caught your eye across the yard.

“Tomioka?” You murmured and slowly, then too quickly to balance properly, raced towards him. Bare feet. Morning breeze. You enveloped him in a hug and he leaned into you, both hands on the small of your back. “Welcome home.”

It was your home, technically. Not his. Your family home. And while you lived here all alone after your parents passed, your family name was the one engraved on the gate. You’d welcomed him home a million times, but this time, holding you on a summer morning, he didn’t want to let go ever again. He wanted to melt into you forever. Your bright eyes, your loud smile. He knew you didn’t need it but he’d protect you from anything. He wanted to keep his sunshine smiling forever. In their home. In a house they shared.

“Tomi..oka?”

“Mm,” He nestled his head into the crook of your neck and wrapped you up tighter, “I’m home.”

Giyuu was a quiet guy. Not sad, not angry, just hushed. Loyal, brave, soft spoken. A little dense. And right now he was pretending like his tears weren’t melting into the fabric of your apron.

“I’ve never had happiness like you.”

How’d you get him? How’d you get so lucky? How’d you find the one person in the world able to handle your joy, your grief, your anger, your fear?

“Where’d you come from Tomioka?” You murmured and tucked your own face against his collarbone.

“A nest of demons.”

“That’s not.. nevermind.”

Levi

we got another gloomy one

infinitely more respect tho

and infinitely more anger issues

he met you while you were working as Pixis’s assistant

the commander wasn’t disorganized but he was a bit of a loose cannon

and a drinker

the way you kept his schedule from crumbling apart literally melted Levi’s soul through his boots

and the way your uniform jacket was always somehow without wrinkles

deceased

you had so many meetings and papers and calls and supply orders to complete, practically every day

gracefully might i add

that Levi liked to just be in the same room with you when he got the chance

both of you being in such high demand

“It’s hot,” Levi murmured and placed a delicate teacup on the saucer in front of you. You nodded, half-listening. Scribbling, munching, tapping impatiently, waiting for the merchant values on the sheet in front of you to graph themselves.

You reached without looking, for the rim of your teacup, the way Levi always held his, and recoiled at the burn, “Ow!”

“I told you.”

“Don’t worry I’m okay.” You rolled your eyes and gave up on tea, nursing two of your burnt fingers in your mouth as you worked. The clock ticked on the wall of your office. Your hand hurt. And then something cold.

Levi stood without making much noise and sat on the edge of your desk, “Come here.” He tugged your hand from your face and wrapped it in his damp handkerchief. You drew your eyes away from the scribbles for a second.

“Listen to me next time,” he huffed, “I don’t like you getting hurt.”

He’d gotten his handkerchief wet for you. He’d been sitting in here with you for god knows how long, and you hadn’t even realized the plate of biscuits you were crunching had appeared out of thin air. That your glass of water was always full. Every time you looked up over your desk, Levi looked back at you, over the top of a book.

That wasn’t even a particularly kind thing to say and still big dumb tears welled up in your eyes and hung there.

“Y/n, are–”

“Levi, thank you.”

He shook his head slightly, like you’d caught him off guard, and squeezed your hand. His face fell back to his normal little scowl but you knew the red climbing from his neck to the tips of his ears meant that he was happy. So happy he couldn’t contain it with grumpiness.

“Tch, don’t thank me. Finish your work so we can get dinner. Hange's gonna be so clingy if we're late again."

#sfw #this turned into a little weeping party didn't it lmao #tengen x reader #tengen #giyuu x reader #giyuu #levi x reader #levi #hcs

[when-the-feet-hurt]

cw: bad caretaker, caretaker turned whumper, invalidation of trauma, referenced past abuse, verbal abuse

Caretaker folds the laundry halfheartedly, throwing it on the messy pile growing on top of the bed.  It doesn’t matter.  As long as it’s done, then that’s fine.  They have other chores to do—chores that Whumpee apparently can’t do, like washing the dishes or sweeping the floor.  Such basic fucking tasks, and they can’t do them without shaking or crying or somehow breaking something.

How long has it been now?  A year?  And they still haven’t gotten their act together in the slightest.  At first, Caretaker understood—going through what Whumpee went through would shake anybody up—but as time went on, irritation replaced their sympathy.  It’s in the past now.  Can’t they just suck it up already and behave normally?

Digging another piece of clothing from the laundry basket, Caretaker holds up one of Whumpee’s sweaters, one that they bought with their own money.  They already washed it the other day, but Whumpee’s stupid goddamn self went and cut themselves doing the dishes, getting blood all over it.  God.  Don’t they know how expensive detergent is?

The door creaks open.  “Caretaker?”

Speak of the devil.  “Yeah?”  Caretaker doesn’t bother turning around.

“I’m sorry for disturbing you, but…  Could you make me some pasta, please?”

Pasta.  The simplest dish in the world, and Whumpee can’t even make it themselves.   Caretaker takes a deep breath.  “Sorry.  I’m busy right now.”

“Oh, okay,” Whumpee replies, sounding like a kicked puppy.  “Later, then?”

“Yeah.  After I do the dishes.”

Whumpee’s stomach growls.  “Could it be sooner?  I’m—”

Throwing down the white sweater, Caretaker whips around.  “If you’re hungry, go make popcorn or something, Whumpee.  I’m clearly fucking busy.  I can’t be there all the time to take care of you!”  They shake their head.  “Jesus Christ.  You’re not five.  You can make some goddamn pasta by yourself.”

A sob follows a sniffle, then two sobs, three sobs, and now Whumpee is crying in the doorway, muttering apologies and some other nonsense Caretaker can’t make out.  They hear something about a ‘Whumper’, but honestly?  They couldn’t care less.

“You better not wipe your snot on your shirt, Whumpee.  I’m not doing laundry again because of you.”

“S-sorry.  I’m so s-sorry.  I really am, Caretaker.  It’s just—”

Caretaker walks over to Whumpee, shaking the ground with their footsteps.  They jab a finger into Whumpee’s chest.  “If you’re so fucking sorry, then make yourself useful and do a chore or two!  Do you know how sick I am of doing everything for you?!”

Whumpee steps back, covering their face in their hands.  “I’m sorry!  I’m sorry, Whumper, I’m so sorry!”

“Stop apologizing if you’re not even going to make it up to me!  And who the hell is Whumper?”  Caretaker pinches the bridge of their nose.  “Actually, why the hell am I asking?  It’s not like you can say anything besides sorry.”

Whumpee’s lip trembles, and they cower, hiding their head behind their arms.  “I’m so sorry.  I’m trying, Caretaker, I really am…  I-I’m so sorry—”

“I can’t stand you.  Get out, and don’t you dare come back up here until you’ve stopped sobbing and made yourself useful.”  Caretaker points out into the hallway.

Like the idiot they are, Whumpee stumbles out the door, still bawling like a child, ugly tears streaming down their red cheeks.  They almost trip down the stairs.  One part of Caretaker wishes they’d tripped and fell in some weird way so that their neck would snap, and Caretaker would finally be free of them.  The other part realizes that they’d be the one stuck cleaning up the mess like always.

“Useless,” Caretaker mutters.

Shaking their head, Caretaker goes back to folding the laundry.  They pick up the white sweater and frown.  Buying this color for Whumpee was a mistake; they should’ve known Whumpee would fuck up somehow and get it dirty.  Spending their money on Whumpee was a mistake.

The very act of taking in Whumpee was a mistake.

#whump writing #bad caretaker #caretaker turned whumper

[221bshrlocked]

That Southern Hospitality

Pairing: Clark Kent X Reader

Words: 8056 (wow this got out of hand)

Warnings: Awkward encounters. Flannel. Forearms. Smut. Dirty talk. Some kinks that might not apply to you including but not limited to hickies, size difference, age gap, flannel shirts, and finally, cum play (if that’s what it’s called). I’m on my period and I’m horny so leave me alone. 

A/N: Listen I’m not sure what happened here. I was minding my own business one minute and the next thing I know, I’m writing this hella long fic because men in plaid shirts are the death of me (Adam Driver in Blackkklansman) but Clark Kent in a plaid shirt/flannel can rip me to pieces and I’d ask him if he could do it again. I know I have other stories to get to and finish, but I got the inspiration and motivation to write this and I decided it was better than not writing any fics at all. Enjoy this hell that is Henry Cavill inspired. This will be up on AO3 with gifs :) Let me know if my smut is still any good.

Two exams, three research papers, and a shit ton of unnecessary assignments, and here you were doing the laundry because how else would you deal with the stress of this hellish semester. You angrily shoved your second batch of clothes into the washer, occasionally looking at the laptop not too far from you in an attempt to memorize any details of the human chest anatomy. As you measured the bleach and poured it in the washer, you forgot what it was you were reciting in your head, turning to the diagram again and repeating the function of the thymus gland for god knows what time that day. 

So busy with the laundry and making sure you don’t push your laptop over the table by accident, you didn’t notice when someone walked into the room until you stood up and grabbed your orange juice. As you were about to take a sip, you heard someone shuffle behind you before speaking.

“Do you mind if I-” The man didn’t get to finish his question, stepping back when he saw you jump in distress.

“OH MY GOD!” You screamed at the top of your lungs, turning around and not watching where you were stepping as you tried to put space between the two of you. You fell to the floor, your heart hammering in fear before it beat against your chest in anger once you felt the sweet liquid spill all over your shirt. 

“I’m so sorry I didn’t-” The man stepped forward and held out his hand to pull you up, his eyes unintentionally descending to your soaking shirt.

“Jesus Christ what the hell is wrong with you? Trying to give me a heart attack or something?” You took his hand and let him pull you up, grabbing the bottle and its cap before throwing it in the trash. Wiping your face, you were about to say something when you looked up and saw who it was standing with you. Your eyes widened in horror because of course it was the quiet hottie two floors down that had to see you in this rather horrendous circumstance. 

“Believe me I thought you heard me when I walked in but I realized you were probably too invested in that diagram to notice me.” He pointed to your laptop, trying his hardest to avoid looking anywhere below your neck because he really didn’t want to get a boner in these sweatpants. 

“S-sorry about the mess, I’ll clean it up and give you some space.” You smiled nervously at him and were about to move towards the sink when he beat you to it and pulled out some paper towels before placing them on the floor. “Please, let me.” He looked up, his jaws clenching tightly when his eyes saw two hardened peaks teasing him through your wet shirt. He swallowed the lump in his throat and wiped the floor, knowing very well you caught him staring at your chest. When you did finally follow his gaze and looked down, embarrassment washed over you and you quickly crossed your arms to hide yourself. 

He stood up a moment later and reluctantly turned towards you before looking over to see if his laundry was done. When he saw the timer was down to zero, he blinked at your obvious nervousness, immediately unbuttoning his flannel and taking it off before stepping towards you. He could hear your elevated heart rate and felt bad for causing you so much discomfort. Whatever courage you had left was spent when you looked up at him, and boy did you wish you didn’t because you weren’t sure what was going to cause you to faint first, his cologne, the way his blue eyes dilated at seeing you, or how his chest expanded with each breath he took. 

“I am sorry miss. Here, take this so you could finish your laundry.” He held out his flannel to you and watched as you thought it over before reluctantly grabbing it. Who even looked that good in just a wife beater and some old sweatpants?

“W-what about your laundry?” You questioned him, walking towards one of the corners and hoping he wouldn’t turn around as you changed out of your shirt. You could hear him walk away, the sound of the washer unlocking letting you know he was thankfully a few feet away and couldn’t possibly hear your heartbeat. 

“It’s fine, you can keep that until you’re done.” He quickly took his clothes out of the washer and shoved them in his basket, deciding to fold them back in his place because he really didn’t know what he could do should he stay in the same room with you for another moment. By the time you turned around and grabbed your shirt to put it in the washer, he was just about done grabbing his clothes. And when he didn finally look at you, he lost whatever self control he had left, the handle of the basket breaking under his hold and causing you to blink at him. 

You couldn’t really tell what he was thinking. He looked inconvenienced with his tense jaw and the harsh grasp he had on his basket. But he also had this aura of kindness around him, like a gentle giant kind of vibe. “Wow that’s one hell of a flannel collection you got there.” You cringed at the words as soon as they left your lips but he surprisingly didn’t laugh at you. On the contrary, his shoulders relaxed before he smiled at you.

“I grew up on a farm,” he said nothing else and you weren’t sure why his answer made your stomach churn. So he was a lumberjack basically. A sweet, muscular, introverted lumberjack who for some odd reason, lives in the city. 

“Thank you for this, it saved me going up four floors only to come back down again.” The flannel was long enough to be a dress and you nervously played with the long sleeves, not realizing that the more you touched the fabric, the harder he became in his sweatpants. 

“It’s no trouble, miss.” He was about to walk away when you stepped to him and grabbed his arm to stop him, goosebumps erupting on your skin when you realized just how muscular he is. You immediately took your hand away and waited until he met your eyes before speaking again.

“Y/N, my name is Y/N.” 

“I’m Clark.” He smiled and you watched as his incredibly fine, round ass walked away from you. When you were sure he went up the stairs, you swore quiet loudly as you pulled your phone out to call a friend. You couldn’t care less about school work or how you were standing in a stranger’s flannel that smelled way too fucking good. All you cared about was squealing like a teenage girl about the cute neighbor who didn’t miss a beat and offered his clothes because you had to make a complete fool out of yourself in front of him.

Unbeknownst to you, Clark could hear every single word you were saying about him, smiling at the prospect of someone your age gushing about him of all people, an average man who didn’t scream “friendly” to total strangers. Well, he wasn’t average but that didn’t matter. He folded his laundry and continued to eavesdrop on your call, not feeling an ounce of shame because you had so far called him “a greek god,” “a sexy farm boy,” and “a big softie.” Clark honestly wasn’t sure which of these was responsible for the raging hard-on he was suffering from and he didn’t really care because he could hear you compliment his scent to whoever you were on the phone with and he hated how vocal you were about your so-called “attraction” to him. 

By the time you were finished with the phone call, you’d lost all hope of retaining any new information about the human body. Then again, if it were up to you, you could have studied his body. For science of course. All the time you were switching out your clothes and absent-mindedly scrolling through your notes, you couldn’t help but bring the flannel up to your nose, taking in deep breaths and relaxing as his musky scent hit your nostrils.

“Fucking hell he smells good.” You whispered to yourself, feeling the sudden urge to reach down and scratch that itch that’s been bothering you ever since he walked in. And you really were about to do it, had it not been for the drier letting you know your clothes are clean.

So much for wanting to get some studying done. 

You collected your things and made your way up the stairs, halting at the second floor and looking at Clark’s door. It wasn’t that you were a stalker or anything. You just saw him a couple of times returning from work. Granted you’d stare at his ass for a few seconds but you didn’t purposely seek him out. You looked at your clothes and thought to just give him his flannel back but you immediately shook your head, ascending the stairs quickly before you changed your mind. 

Clark was writing a new article when he heard your steps slow down and stop at the top of the stairs. He slowly stood up and approached the door, looking past the wood and watching as you silently debated on something before you thought against it and ran up the stairs. He smiled to himself, knowing he was right and that you wouldn’t return his plaid shirt just yet. 

As soon as you got back to your apartment, you folded your clothes and paced around the empty living room. A heavy sigh made its way past your throat and you looked down at the shirt, wanting very much to relieve your stress but knowing there wasn’t time for that self-care session. You put the kettle on and decided to force yourself to get something done before the sun set. If you weren’t going to memorize that shit then you were certainly going to finish some of the other assignments. 

Surprisingly, you managed to finish one of the research papers by eight and you lounged on your couch and listened to some jazz music as you wrote the discussion responses and questions for your other classes. You were happy that you’d only had the two research papers and the exams to study for. Rubbing your eyes, you managed to shut your laptop before rolling on the couch, staring out your curtains before taking a deep breath. 

And that’s when it hit you.

It was such a stupid thought but for some reason, you genuinely believed you managed to finish all of this studying because of what you were wearing. You looked down at the shirt and pulled it to your nose for god knows what time that day, taking a deep breath before letting your mind wander to the little encounter from earlier. 

You’ve had several crushes before but never like this. Not ones that made you feel peaceful at least. Maybe after this semester was over, you’d muster up the courage to ask him out. But what if he had someone already? How awkward would that be? Surely someone with his manners and looks had a girlfriend, a boyfriend even. 

You didn’t dwell on that for too long, not wanting to grow sad at the prospect of missing your chances with a guy like him. You let your thoughts run over until you fell asleep, not realizing that Clark was also having a hard time riding his mind of you. 

You hoped you could run into him again to avoid the awkward encounter of knocking on his door and giving him his shirt but that never happened. Somehow, you couldn’t get a sight of him for the rest of the week, which was strange considering how often you managed to get a glimpse of the man. And you noticed you’d started to stress out again when you realized his scent grew incredibly weak, the flannel no longer bringing you peace of mind as it has for the past few days. 

There were only five days left and even though you had turned in all your research papers and taken one exam (and miraculously passed it), you still felt like shit. Five days to study for an exam should have been a Christmas gift compared to some of the schedules you had to deal with for the past two years, but you didn’t feel like studying and you hated that you knew what was keeping you from focusing. 

You distracted yourself with numerous things, buying unnecessary clothes and accessories online and even calling your friend and asking her what show you could binge watch next.

“Fuck this shit,” you threw your pillow across the room and grabbed your phone, ordering some take out before pulling up all of your human anatomy notes in an attempt to study again. You looked around your apartment and saw the plaid shirt on the other end of the couch, rolling your eyes at the sudden need to wear it because if that meant you could focus even for a few minutes, you were definitely going to put it on. 

A few minutes passed and you were still on the same diagram, swearing out loud when you heard the doorbell ring. 

“Well that was quick,” you grabbed a five dollar bill to tip the driver, unlocking the door and pulling it harder than intended. 

And then you forgot how to breathe for a second because shit shit shit Clark was standing in front of you and you were wearing his shirt and he was looking you up and down and fuck this was not okay. You silently cursed yourself because he was definitely going to think you were weird for wearing it when you had your own damn clothes. 

“Hey,” was the only thing Clark managed to say because his neurons decided to misfire and not form a proper sentence. Goddamn his clothes looked so much better on you.

“H-hi.” 

Clark cleared his throat and pretended he wasn’t gawking at you, holding out a few letters and waiting until you took them before he said anything else. 

“These were in my box by accident. Sorry about that. I think a few of them might be late, I haven’t been here all week.” You watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down before he pushed up his glasses and finally looked at you. 

“Oh, thank you. Was it vacation week or something?” Of all the things you could have asked to not sound pathetically desperate, that should have been the last of them. 

“Far from it, I was on an assignment and I had to go to Gotham to interview some businessman for the Daily Planet. Just got back.” He fixed the strap of his bag before shoving his hands in his pockets and such a simple gesture shouldn’t have made you drool but here you were. 

“You’re a reporter?” Somehow, that made sense but it was weird to see someone who grew up on a farm come to the city and take the oddest job. 

“Yeah.”

“That sounds nice.” You didn’t know what else to say, awkwardly shifting on your feet and hoping he’d continue the conversation for your sake. 

“It is most of the time, but then you have to sit down with eccentric billionaires and then it’s not so fun anymore.” Clark remarked and he was struck with a soft chuckle that almost made him lose his balance. 

“Let me guess, the infamous Bruce Wayne wasn’t as charming as everyone says he is.” You took a step forward and leaned against the door frame, noticing the way Clark stepped closer to you as well. 

“How did you know?” Clark said with a hint of sarcasm and you shook your head before looking past him and silently cursing when you saw the delivery guy approaching you.

“I’ve got an order for Y/N.” The young man took one look at Clark before he knew it was best for him to just deliver the food and leave. 

“Here, thank you so much.” You handed him the tip and smiled when he waved back at you.

“I’ll leave you to eat then,” Clark was about to walk away when you reached out and stopped him.

“Or you could come in? I ordered way too much food anyway.” You hoped you weren’t being too forward with him and let out a breath when he turned around and faced you.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude.” 

“You’re not.” You said way too quickly to your liking but knew it was worth it when he sent you that dashing smile again. He walked in and set his bag down before following you to the living room. 

“Make yourself at home,” you set down the food on the table in front of the couch before walking to the kitchen to grab a few plates and some drinks. When you walked back and handed him the beer to open until you brought out all the food, he raised an eyebrow at you and asked the question he’d been wanting to ask ever since he saw you.

“Are you old enough to be drinking this?” He asked jokingly and hoped you didn’t find his question too weird.

“Hey hey I’ll have you know I am not as young as I look.” You playfully raised your voice and watched as he held his hands up in defeat.

“Just want to make sure I’m not breaking the law or anything.” 

“I’m about to turn 23 so relax.” You sat down next to him, shoving the laptop to the side and grabbing the beer from his hand before rolling your eyes at him.

“So you are as young as you look then!” Clark hoped his tone still held some playfulness because he didn’t want you to know how turned on he was because of the age gap. Not that he expected anything. 

“I’m old enough…” You let the words hang in the air, pretending you were focusing on splitting the food evenly between the two of you. Clark narrowed his eyes at you before shifting them towards the bit of skin peaking through the buttons of his shirt. 

Fuck, his shirt. 

“Thanks for this, I definitely wouldn’t have bothered to cook for myself tonight.” He broke the silence, trying to think of anything but you wearing that shirt around the apartment. And he really didn’t want to picture you going to sleep in it. 

“Of course, I gotta return a bit of that southern hospitality after all.” You took a bite of the food and were about to say something when he beat you to it.

“And here I was thinking you could have just returned the shirt.” Of all the things you thought he was going to say, that was definitely not one of them because as far as you knew, he was not a confrontational man.

“I- uhhh, I was going t-”

“Relax sweetheart, I’m just teasing.” You almost choked on the food when he winked at you and you hoped to the almighty he wasn’t just pulling your leg. If your friend was here, she would have probably told you to play hard to get. But you were tired, and you didn’t think Clark was the kind of guy to enjoy that. He was older than you after all and he probably didn’t enjoy that childish behavior.

“Honestly, your shirt managed to help me with my stress.” When he said nothing and continued to stare at you, you decided you should probably apologize. “Sorry that sounded weird. Here I am being super creepy when you were just being nice. Probably don’t need this drama anyway.” You moved to get up and were about to head toward your room when you felt a hand wrap around your wrist and pull you back down. 

“Don’t. You’re being honest. It’s a breath of fresh air actually.” You weren’t sure what made your heart race, the way he was looking at you or the warm fingers he had still wrapped around your wrist. You smiled all the same, nodding awkwardly before reaching for your laptop. You touched the mouse bar so the screen didn’t sleep and turned your attention to Clark again.

“Still studying the anatomy?” Clark pointed to the screen, finishing up his food and thanking you for it before standing up to throw away the empty boxes.

“I actually stopped studying for it this past week. Had other more important assignments and exams to finish. You sure you don’t want any more?” You closed the two other boxes and followed him to the kitchen, placing the boxes in the fridge before grabbing the plates and forks to place in the sink.

“I’m good thank you. When is this exam then?” He stood at the sink and folded his sleeves, the action not going unnoticed by you. When you looked up and saw that he was staring at you, you cleared your throat and went to the table to clean the rest of the things. 

“It’s in five days and I really couldn’t care less because if I have to memorize one more fucking muscle, I’m going to lose my shit.” Clearing away everything, you washed your hands as well and followed him back to the couch, pretending you weren’t checking out his thighs that were currently spread out across his seat. Fuck he looked good.

“Maybe I can help with that.” Clark said before he could think twice about the bizarre idea

“How? Do you secretly know Professor Stevens and could talk to him for me so I don’t have to take the exam?” You jokingly asked, scrolling through the powerpoint to try and see which group you had to study next. When you didn’t hear a response and looked up, you saw Clark staring at you with an expression that you couldn’t quite understand. 

“I sadly don’t know Professor Stevens, but I’ve heard that it’s easier to study these things when you have a real life example to map out.” There wasn’t an inch of hesitance in his words and Clark was finding it very hard to keep a straight face when you looked so flustered. 

“Is this where you tell me you’re secretly a serial killer and I’m about to become one of your cadevers?” You tried to diffuse the sudden tension growing between you two but Clark never once dropped his gaze, setting his beer down on the table before standing up and rolling down his sleeves.

“No, but I am a willing participant and I will gladly be your example.” He didn’t give you a chance to respond, pulling his blue and green plaid shirt out of his jeans before unbuttoning the front, all the while making sure you never looked away. 

By the time he was finished, you could feel how soaked your panties were and you hoped he didn’t notice you shift in your seat. When he smiled, you knew he did.

“Oh,” you whispered when he opened his shirt and took it off, leaving him in the wife beater and tight, dark jeans. You took a deep breath to try and relax your mind but then he pulled the white material out of his jeans in one swift move and you were left staring at his incredibly muscular, slightly hairy chest that had you wanting to jump his bones right away. 

He sat down again, this time much closer to you. You cleared your throat before turning to your laptop and scrolling to the diagram about the bones, looking it over before facing Clark again and silently asking him if you could move closer. When he raised an eyebrow and nodded at you, you cleared your throat before taking his arm and pulling it on your lap. 

You should’ve known it would be heavy considering how muscular he was but nothing prepared you for how soft his arm would be, even with all the hair. This was not the time to be horny and yet here you were, wanting to do something else with his fingers. 

Softly, you took his hand and rested it on your lap, tracing his fingers as you called out the different bones on the limb. “Phalanges…metacarpals…c-carpals.” You spent a little bit longer on his wrist, turning it up before softly passing over the veins of his arms. When you realized you weren’t actually moving over the bones, you blinked rapidly before continuing to his arm. His arm was now rating completely on your lap and although his hand was facing the ceiling, you couldn’t help but feel like he was purposely making sure he was touching the skin of your thighs. 

Dismissing the wild thought, you applied pressure with one hand on his ulna while the other passed over the hair of his arm and mirrored your actions but on his radius. When you looked up, you saw Clark’s piercing blue eyes staring into yours, not bothering to hide his obvious fascination with your lips before looking down to where you were touching him. You swallowed the lump in your throat before moving your hand to the humerus, not bothering to linger on his arm because you knew very well which bones that was. 

Before you could convince yourself not to, you decided the hell with being appropriate, hands continuing their journey up to his shoulders before lingering over the clavicle, finding it incredibly sexy because it was protruding. And when your other hand moved to his chest and splayed across the center, you made sure to never look away from his suddenly dilated pupils, pushing on the hard center and whispering “sternum.”

“You’re doing pretty well darling…don’t know why you’re worried about this exam.” Clark’s jaw was tense and you knew he was as affected by you as you were by him. 

“I’m more worried about muscle groups if I’m being honest.” You replied breathlessly, not expecting him to reach over and pull you on his lap. You gasped before settling down on him, not bothering to be sly when you moved your hips and found him hard beneath you.

“Get up close and personal Y/N, I don’t mind.” Clark smiled when you grabbed his arm and brought it close to you again, tracing the forearm and whispering the muscles as you touched each of them. “Flexor carpi ulnaris…E-extensor carpi radialis longus…ah fuck.” You couldn’t take it anymore, swearing when you felt his other hand grasp your thighs and squeeze them. 

“Focus,” he dared to warn you, chuckling when you narrowed your eyes at him in warning. 

You continued to move your fingers on his arm, no longer shying away from feeling him up a bit more. As soon as you reached his biceps and named the muscle, Clark was flexing beneath you, the small reflex turning you on way more than it should have. You lingered on his biceps a bit more than you should have and Clark noticed, the fingers of the arm you were studying wrapping around your upper arm before jerking you in his arms.

“I said focus.” His tone was dangerous and you couldn’t help the little drag you took across his thighs. Clark looked down at you before raising his eyebrows, his chest expanding with pride because your self-control was slipping just as his.

“D-deltoid,” you passed over his shoulders before finally reaching where you’ve wanted to touch him for so long. As soon as you placed both of your hands over his chest and whispered “pectoralis,” Clark was wrapping his arms around you and pulling you towards him, lips crashing against yours so aggressively you almost thought you broke your teeth. He was hungry to touch you, his arms not letting up once as he devoured your mouth. When you tried to pull away to breathe, Clark moaned against you, fingers pushing the back of your head towards him so he could suck on your tongue. 

A few seconds later, he finally realized the two of you needed to breathe, letting go before continuing his attack down your neck. You found yourself pushing your body to him, sighing and moaning when you felt his teeth nip and suck on whatever skin he had access to.

“Jesus fucking Christ, do you have…any idea, how sexy you look in my shirt?” He paused in between words to kiss your neck before deciding he wanted your mouth again. You didn’t have much choice, giving yourself over to him and not bothering to attempt to have any control of the man beneath you. To say you were surprised by how needy and bold he suddenly was would have been the understatement of the century. 

“God damn baby, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you last week. Not when you looked so embarrassed with these pretty tits begging me to get an eyeful of’em.” He leaned down and bit you through the shirt, not caring how ridiculous he probably looked. 

“Ohh Clark…please.” You weren’t sure what it was you were begging him for and you couldn’t care less.

“What do you want darling? I’ll give you anything you want. You’ve been such a good little sweetheart, wearin’ my shirt all week long. Were you Y/N?” You didn’t realize he was asking a question until he pulled away and lightly smacked your ass, begging you to answer him.

“Wh-what?”

“I asked, were you wearin’ my shirt all week?” 

“Oh god fuck, yes. Yes I was.” You tried to get out of his grasp to touch him but he didn’t let you, teh vice grip he had around your waist letting you know he wasn’t planning on letting up anytime soon.

“Such a pretty darling. Tell me Y/N, why didn’t you give it to me when you were done?” Before you could answer him, Clark was maneuvering you around, and for some reason, you were still surprised by the sheer power this man had because he handled you as if you weighed nothing. You found yourself buried under the hunk of flesh, and although you should have felt somewhat claustrophobic, you didn’t. On the contrary, you felt safe surrounded by him.

“I- it’s going to sound stupid.” You tried to distract him because you were afraid he’d think you were weird. 

“Please, baby. Tell me.” The man cooed in your ears and you were amazed by how soft he was being when a moment ago, he was just about ready to devour you.

“Y-you smell nice…your cologne, it helped me get work done. A-and I slept better when I wore it. Made me feel safe.” You couldn’t look at him, not wanting to drive him away by your obsession. You did only meet a week ago. 

You took his silence for disgust and were about to push him away when he crushed you with his weight, stopping all thoughts of wanting to get away from him.

“Fucking hell Y/N, you’re going to be the death of me.” As soon as you looked into his eyes, Clark was pushing you further into the couch, his lips savoring every inch of your own, biting and engulfing them like a madman.

“Shouldn’t have gone to Gotham. Should’ve stayed here and tried to ask you out.” He was babbling nonsense, taking both of your hands in his and raising him high above your head. 

“Oh god Clark…”

“Have dinner with me baby?”

“Yes anything. I’ll do anything you want me to do…j-just don’t stop. Please don’t stah-ahh,” you screamed in surprise when you heard buttons clattering across the floor, looking down at the ruined shirt before attempting to focus on Clark.

He was smiling devilishly at you, maintaining eye contact as he ripped the rest of the shirt before giving your newly exposed skin some attention. The man somehow was becoming sexier by the second and you had a feeling tonight would be a night you’d never forget.

He kissed up your stomach, licking the valley between your breasts before winking at you. Before you could beg him to not do the same with your bra, he was already ripping it in half, not bothering with your little whines as he attacked your nipples. You were a moaning mess beneath him, his name like a prayer on your lips as he sucked and bit and pinched your hardened peaks. 

Clark continued his assault on you, not caring that you were shaking in his arms at this point. You were torn between looking down at him and throwing your head back to enjoy the sensations coursing through you. He moaned and growled as he sucked and pinched your nipples harder, occasionally jutting his hips and showing you just how much he wanted to have you.

It was so little, crept up on you without you noticing. Almost as if it was forced out of you. At a particular thrust of his hips, you were arching your back and pushing your breasts into his face, swearing and screaming his name until he slowly eased you down from your little high.

“Did…did you just-” Clark didn’t move a muscle, his cock finally catching up with his brain because did he just make you come without even touching your pussy?

“C-clark.” You sighed his name, looking at him through heavy-lidded eyes when you suddenly realized what just happened. 

Before you could attempt an apology at how pathetic your body was, Clark was sitting up and trying to take his pants off. When you saw him fumbling through the simplest of tasks, you felt heated and proud to have made this man a mess, unbuckling his belt and throwing it away before pushing down the zipper and trying to kick his pants down. He barely managed to take off his shoes and socks, marveling at how soft and warm your hands were against his skin as you dragged his jeans down his legs. 

“I need you, please. I need you inside me Clark. Now.” You begged insistently, no longer bothered by how needy this man made you. He nodded frantically and was about to pull down his boxer briefs when he remembered something. You watched him look around for something, furrowing your eyebrows at him before you realized what it was he wanted. “On the pill.” You half-yelled at him, not wanting to waste anymore time because you were so close to finally having him. He nodded at you and quickly got rid of his boxers, standing up and watching as your facial expression hardened and fear washed over your skin. 

“Oh fuck,” you swore louder than you intended, eyes shifting from his leaking cock to his face. How the hell were you going to fit that in you?

“Shit, baby don’t look at me like that. W-we can stop. I could just-” Clark tried to slow down, not wanting to hurt or even scare you in any way. 

“You kidding me? I’ve only been thinking about you fucking me senseless ever since I saw you. You’ll fit, it’ll be tight but y-you’ll fit. Just- just be gentle…go slow.” Your words slowed down as you became less and less positive that he was, in fact, going to fit his cock inside you and you watched as it twitched between his legs with every comment you said. 

“Fuck, don’t say things like that darling.” Clark was slowly losing himself in you, but he really didn’t want to let that affect him in any other way. He leaned down slowly, pulling you up until you were standing on one foot before turning you around in his arms and laying back on the couch with you on top of him. 

“Come here Y/N.” He whispered in your ears, wanting to feel your weight on top of him to remind him of how fragile you were in his arms. 

“Clark, I-” You turned your head to try and look at him, shutting your eyes when you felt his hands roaming your body. 

“Shhh sweetheart I got you. I’ll go slow, won’t even hurt you. But you have to promise that, ah fuck, i-if you do feel like you can’t do this, tell me. Don’t wanna lose you Y/N.” You weren’t sure what made you shudder, how kind he was even when he was painfully hard, or how he was making sure to let you know this wasn't just sex for him.

You nodded against him, spreading your legs across his thighs and looking down to see where his hands stopped. He made small circles around the outer lips of your pussy, groaning in your ears when he felt how wet and hot you were for him.

“Ready for me?” Clark reluctantly asked, waiting until you hummed your approval before grabbing his cock and inching the leaking tip into your pussy. He stopped moving when he felt you throw your head back against him, about to ask you if it was too much when you grabbed his hand and moved it towards your center, where you were joined. 

“F-fuck ahh Clark, y-you can keep going.” You barely managed to say to him, focusing on your lower muscles and trying to loosen up a bit to get used to him. Clark on the other hand was having a hard time, in more ways than one, trying to not shove his dick all the way inside of you. But when he heard your little plea, he couldn’t deny you anything, thrusting up into you and waiting until you adjusted to him stretching you out before moving again.

Within minutes, you were a mess above him, repeating his name over and over as you felt his cock reach so deep inside you while his hand circled around your clit.

“Fucking hell Y/N, you’re so tight. So warm and tight…such a good darling aren’t you?” He whispered words of encouragement in your ears, continuing to slowly buck his hips up into you as his hands touched your skin. 

“Clark, you feel so good…stretching me out like no one else. I- oh god ohh my god yes right there, I’ve never had big cock like you before.” You were sure he was going to split you in half and the thought of him destroying you made you even wetter. You could hear him pushing in and out of you, your juices letting him slide in easier than a few minutes before.

“Yeah baby just like that, keep taking my cock. You’re so good to me darling…made for me. Could spend hours inside you Y/N, if you only let me.” Clark kissed your shoulders before biting and sucking red marks across your neck, wanting to touch you anywhere he could reach. 

You finally managed to turn your head around enough to look at him, forcing your eyes to open and gasping when you could barely make out the blue of his orbs. You leaned down and kissed him, holding onto the hand snaked around your thighs and pleasuring you before you felt a different kind of heat spread inside you. 

Clark came with a growl, holding you down to him as he continued to fuck you. You fisted your hands around the couch, shaking in his arms when you felt him harden even more inside you. 

“Clark, you…did you-”

“Please baby, can I keep fucking you? Please, you feel like heaven.” You were sure you died and went to a different reality because this man did not have a refractory period and was probably going to be the death of you.

“Yes, fuck, yes okay just- I need to look at you, touch you, move with you.”

“Shit yeah alright I can do that, let me.” Clark slowly sat up, pulling you off of him and wincing when the cold air hit his skin. He didn’t give you a chance to get used to being empty, immediately pulling you onto his lap and lowering you down on his still hard cock before leaning up to kiss you. You hissed at the stretch again, distracting yourself with his lips and the flexing muscles beneath your hands to not think of how deep he was reaching inside of you.

Supporting your weight on him, you started riding him at a slightly quicker pace, wanting to come on his cock just once before he continued to use you to get off. 

“Come on Y/N, want to feel this pretty little cunt come ‘round me. Please darling, will you give me that? Will you come around me? So..f-fucking good,” Clark reached around and grabbed your ass, finding it incredibly sexy that you were scratching his chest to release some of that tension you felt from having him stretch you out.

Hearing him begging you to come around him was probably what had done it.. Or perhaps it was the way his muscles rippled beneath you each time you sought out his skin for support. It didn’t matter in the end because Clark fucked you through your orgasm, whispering nonsensical things in your ears and waiting until you returned to your senses before he asked you a question.

He remained motionless to not distract you, pulling you to his chest to kiss you again before nuding you to answer him.

“Let’s move this to the bedroom?” Clark asked, perhaps the third or fourth time, chuckling against you when you just nodded and wrapped your limbs around him. He carefully stood up, refusing to pull out while trying to not hurt you and push in any further. You didn’t show any sign of discomfort when he stood to his full height, slowly walking around the table towards the only hallway in the apartment. 

When he did get to your room, he wrapped his arms around your back and made sure to lay down on the bed without breaking the hazy spell you were under. When he was sure you were comfortable, he supported his weight on his arms and pulled away from your neck to get a better look at you. 

He found you smiling and staring back at him, hands moving his sweaty hair away from his handsome face while the other one still held onto his arms. 

“Clark.” The way you said his name twisted something in his stomach and he knew that he couldn’t possibly go on without telling you his secret. He didn’t want to risk putting your life in danger, but something told him you’d be willing to take that chance for him. At least he hoped he was worth it to you.

“Y/N, I-”

“Please, move…let me make you feel good baby.” You cut him off, knowing he was probably trying to say something that didn’t need to be addressed anytime soon.

And my god, when he did start thrusting into you again, it was like you found the answer to a question you never knew you had. He was so gentle, kissing you everywhere and smiling when he saw the dazed expression aimed at him. He continued to whisper sweet things in your ear, occasionally pinching your nipples or rubbing your clit with his navel. 

You arched your back against him, feeling the familiar tug in your lower stomach but wanting to wait until he came with you. You could tell Clark was chasing after his orgasm because his grunts grew louder and his rhythm faltered. His arms moved from caging you in to grabbing your neck and pushing you up to him so he could kiss you. In the end, it was his neediness that pushed you over the edge, crying out his name as you felt him thrust into you one, two, three times before you felt the familiar heat fill your insides.

Had you had one functioning neuron, you would have marveled at how much more he came the second time around. But you didn’t.

The both of you stayed wrapped around each other until Clark realized that should he stay inside you any longer, he would probably go for round three, and the last thing he wanted was to freak you out by how long he could go. 

When he finally forced himself to pull out, he swore under his breath at the sight of his cum leaking out of you and before he could stop himself, he was pushing his cum back into your cunt, smirking with pride when your legs shook and you winced at the thick fingers pushing in and out of you.

Clark, however, was surprised when he didn pull his fingers out and watched as you grabbed his wrist and pulled the two digits into your mouth, never losing eye contact as you licked and sucked his fingers till they were clean.

“You’re going to be the death of me Y/N.” Clark smiled before falling to the side and wrapping his arms around you. You sighed happily, looking up at him as you traced shapes around his chest. 

“I didn’t hurt you did I?” Clark asked to make sure you weren’t feeling any discomfort. 

“Pretty sure I won’t be able to walk for the next few days but fuck me it was worth it.”

“Careful what you wish for Y/N.” Clark warned and you laughed against him before you snuggled into his embrace. 

A few minutes passed in silence before you realized you needed to ask him what’s been on your mind ever since he walked into your apartment.

“You aren’t put off by my age are you?” Clark looked quizzically at you before pushing up to his elbows, making sure you knew he was giving you his undivided attention. You continued to play with his chest hair, refusing to look at him when you elaborated. “I just know that…well, sometimes, older guys don’t take younger girls too seriously and..what I wanted to tell you was-”

“This wasn’t just sex to me Y/N. I want to go on dates with you. I want to take you out to galas we have at work. I want to help you out when you’re too stressed or when you need to vent about something. I want to be here with you. If anything, I feel like you deserve someone your age.” Clark combed back your hair, taking the hand on his chest and bringing it to his lips before kissing it over and over again.

“I don’t think I can find anyone my age that’ll make me feel as safe as you make me.” Clark would never get used to hearing you admit you feel safe with him. It did something to him knowing you weren’t one to shy away from vocalizing your thoughts and emotions. 

“You mean you won’t find a guy who’ll let you steal his shirts and walk around with them.” You punched his chest and allowed yourself to breathe again because now that you got this off your chest, you could be sort of normal again. 

Clark was about to say something when he felt you trace his skin again, the hairs on his arms feeling standing up at your obvious attraction to him. He wasn’t a vain man, far from it, but he felt happy that you were pleased with him. 

“Don’t tempt me sweetheart.”

“What? I’m just reviewing for the exam. You don’t want me to fail do you?” You asked playfully, hoping to god he didn’t feel weird by how much you wanted to touch him.

“By all means, review.” Clark laid his head over his arms, flexing the muscles you were currently “studying” before looking down and raising an eyebrow at you. “But I’m not responsible for what’s to follow.”

“Is that a promise or a warning?”

In the blink of an eye, Clark was shoving himself between your legs, shamelessly rolling his hips against your wet core and not caring that you probably needed some rest before you went for it again.

“It’s just my southern hospitality darling.”

#clark kent x reader #superman x reader #clark kent #henry cavill #man of steel #dc #justice league #clark kent fanfiction #clark kent smut #DC smut #dc universe #that southern hospitality #henry cavill x reader

[hazzasgayvodka]

Panty Thief - Harry Styles

So this is kind of a trial run for this fic, I’m inclined to make this a series but I’m not sure how the response to it will be. I have lots of ideas for more parts to this but only if it’s what the people want haha. Here is my belated Valentine’s Day gift to all you lovelies I hope you enjoy this heavy daddy kink/dom harry fic I’ve been working on for ages!

p.s. everyone say thank you Nathan for giving me lots of smut inspiration this is literally based on him sorta 

pairing: daddy!harry x oc

warning: sexual content, smut, daddy kink/dom vibes so if you’re not here for that this is not for you

word count: 5k

In which Harry is a new student at Harley’s university and he seems to just keep popping up everywhere. The tension between them is palpable and she can’t get away from him, especially when he happens to knock on her door with a pair of her favorite red lace panties she left in the laundromat dangling from his finger. 

I roll my eyes as the lady in front of me in line takes out yet another handful of coupons from her purse at the checkout counter. The cashier looks almost as annoyed as I am, but still sporting a smile despite the absolute exasperation rampant in her eyes. She takes the handful of coupons and starts scanning them begrudgingly as the woman digs around in her purse for anymore and I hardly even notice my foot tapping as my eyes instinctively roll once again. I just came to get toilet roll, ice cream, and a bottle of prosecco and the universe decides today is the day coupon Karen ends up at the checkout line five minutes before I do.

“I like your hair.” A voice speaks up behind me.

I know they must be talking to me, I don’t believe any other boring college blonde in this line warrants a compliment like that but the bright purple curls I sport tend to elicit quite the reaction from bystanders, especially the uninteresting conservatives of Publix.

“How do you uh, get it that color?”

I finally turn my head over my shoulder to face the voice, a tall guy with tousled brown hair and quite the shit eating grin on his face. He’s obviously very pleased with himself finally getting me to turn around but I can’t be bothered to entertain this excited puppy of a man with more than a word.

“Dye.”

I’ve barely even gotten the word out of my mouth before I turn back to face the cashier with an uninterested eyeroll. He scoffs behind me, clearly not giving up that easily.

“Wow,” He chuckles, “At least you’re straightforward.”

I turn back around without thinking to face him once again, “Hair dye, idiot.”

“Oh, well I could have guessed that much.”

I turn away from him again just as coupon lady finally pushes her rattling cart towards the exit doors and the cashier gestures for me to come up to the checkout. I drop my basket on the conveyor belt with a thud and she rings it up quickly, sensing my impatience and clearly wanting to get me the hell out of here as quickly as she can. I pay and grab my bags to head for the door and just before I’m home free the voice is suddenly behind me yet again.

“So, are you really not going to tell me?” He asks, catching up to me outside, “It’s going to keep me up tonight, I’m waiting with bated breath over here.”

“Tell you what exactly?” I huff, finally turning to face him.

“How you get your hair that color, of course.”

I roll my eyes, surely, he’s not keeping this bit up for the sake of hitting on me in the fucking supermarket, “Do you want something from me?”

He chuckles a bit, and I’m glad to see my utter frustration is amusing to him, “I mean,” He starts, rubbing the back of his neck, “Maybe your name would be cool.”

“No thanks.”

“Well, I’m Harry-“

I turn and walk away before he’s barely got the sentence out of his mouth. What was he even in line to buy? He wasn’t carrying any bags.

Mental note: always wear headphones to the grocery store.

 ***

“You’re late.”

I collapse in the seat next to my friend Danielle with a huff. She gives me a certain look that says something like you’ve been late the past three times too, but honestly at this point she should know to expect it.

“I’m always late,” I groan, attempting to lean back in the incredibly uncomfortable library chair, “So, why are we at the library?”

“We have a math test tomorrow, or did you forget about that?” She asks, scolding me over the top of her math book.

“Of course I remembered,” I say sarcastically, “Math is my absolute favorite subject how could I ever forget we had a test?”

She rolls her eyes, turning her book to the right page to start taking notes and I try my best to follow along, “So do you have a legitimate reason for the lateness or just regular Harley excuses?”

“Actually, I do,” I say matter-of-factly, sitting back up straight in my chair, “There was a freak at the grocery store, dude would not leave me alone.”

“What was he doing?” She asks, suddenly interested.

“Just talking? I guess? He like wanted to have a whole conversation waiting to check out.”

“So, a nice guy just struck up some conversation with you at the store and that’s a bad thing?”

“Yes,” I huff, closing the book once again, “I was just there to get groceries I didn’t need the extra human interaction.”

She opens her mouth to reply but she’s cut off as a group of guys walk in the front door of the library talking at full volume. I can feel almost every person in the room turn in the direction of the loud noise at the front and suddenly my eyes land on him. There’s no fucking way.

“Dani,” I whisper, sliding down in my seat so I can go unseen, “Dani that’s the guy, the guy from earlier.”

“What?” She whispers harshly, trying not to stare as the boys get scolded by the librarian at the front, “You mean grocery store guy?”

“Yes!” I huff, electing to sit in my chair backwards so my back is to him.

“No way Harley, it just looks like him-”

“No Dani, it’s him,” I whisper, “Tall one with the curly hair in the black hoodie.”

“That’s him?” She asks, “You had a problem with that talking to you?”

“Shh!” I huff, “God he’s going to hear you, are they still at the front?”

“They um, yeah,” She stutters, her eyes diverting to her book again, “They’re still up there, at a table now.”

“What’s wrong?” I ask, sensing the discomfort in her voice and turning around myself.

My eyes immediately lock onto his and I look away quickly, shielding my face from him with my hand and turning back towards Danielle.

“He’s staring right at you.” She says, trying not to be too obvious.

“Yep.”

“Are you gonna go over there?”

“Why would I do that exactly?” I ask, my eyebrow raised in disbelief.

“Because a hot boy is staring you down across the fucking library!” She whispers harshly, reaching over to smack me in the arm.

“More like a fucking psychopa-”

“Hey there,” I hear his voice cut in and my whole body cringes in on itself without my volition, “Fancy meeting you here.”

I turn around in my chair, forcing myself to face him while my whole face heats and I’m sure I’m the color of a rather ripe tomato. Something about the way he says hey there in that fucking accent makes my entire body tense up.

“Hey there,” I mimic, “Long time no see.”

I feel Danielle’s eyes on me as the words come out of my mouth, her gaze flickering between the two of us and watching the horrifically awkward exchange play out in front of her.

He laughs, electing to lean on the table, “What are you doing after this?”

“She’s doing absolutely nothing.” Danielle answers for me and I kick her under the table, making her wince.

“Glad to hear it,” He grins, his eyes zeroing in on me once again.

“I’m very busy actually,” I cut in, closing my textbook and throwing it in my bag, “We both are, but um, I’ll see you around.”

Danielle is looking at me with eyes the size of dinner plates as she frantically packs up her stuff, shoving it in her bag to follow suit. I stand up from my chair, slinging my bag over my shoulder and he rounds the table to stand right in front of me, the only thing between me and the front door.

“Can I at least get your name?” He asks, his voice incredibly deep clearly for only me to hear.

“Harley,” I quip, side stepping around him, “See you later uh, Harold is it?”

He gives me a very particular look as I walk away from him, taking steps backward and relishing in the smirk on his face. He knows what I’m doing. I feel Dani’s hand grab my arm and I finally turn around to face the door, walking through it, but even as I’m outside and carrying my feet down the steps I feel his eyes on me, drilling into the back of my head.

“The hell was that?” Danielle asks, “He was so cute and you just, you just blow it like that?”

“Harmless flirting.”

“You call that flirting?”

“Oh Dani,” I sigh, taking out a cigarette and lighting it between my lips, “I call that winning.”

 ***

I’m woken up with a start when I hear the loud roar of music start from Dani’s room. She always blasts music in the morning while getting ready for class. I look over my shoulder to check the time, at least she waited until 10 to start with the noise. My head is pounding ever so slightly, and I realize why when my eyes land on the empty bottle of pink Moscato on my bedside table.

I drag myself out of bed and into the tiny common space between our two rooms, “Good morning sleeping beauty,” Danielle teases, “I noticed the bottle of wine went missing from the fridge.”

“That’s bizarre,” I joke, “Must be a wine thief in the dorms. I’ll get on that mystery right away.”

She shakes her head at me, rolling her eyes as I grab my basket of laundry from my room. I slide on a pair of slippers electing to go put it in the wash, so I hopefully have a single clean pair of jeans for class tonight. I call to Dani letting her know I’ll be right back and as soon as I open the door to the hall I’m staring at him.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” I groan.

He stops dead in his tracks, taking a glance over his shoulder to see me standing in my doorway. He’s dressed in only a towel, holding it closed while it hangs low on his hips. His hair is wet, clearly making his way back to his room from the showers and his chest and arms are rippling with muscles under his damp skin.

God those arms could crush me like a grape.

“Morning neighbor,” He grins, clearly getting a kick out of this, “Someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed today?”

“You’re in this building?”

“You bet, room 7C down the hall.”

“Well, neighbor, for future reference, most people in this building take their clothes to the shower with them.”

“You Americans,” He chuckles, starting to walk away from my doorway, “So prude, have a nice day Harley.”

He disappears down the hall and then behind his door and my mind gets to work on picturing what he looks like without the towel. You can nearly feel the tension between us in the air, it was palpable. I could even feel his eyes on me, looking me up and down and lingering on my lips. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to clear my head as I take a deep breath and start on my way to the laundry room downstairs.

I put a load in the wash, briefly tuning into the dramatic soap playing on the tiny TV hung on the wall. I decide to head back to my now empty room since Danielle left for class and end up wasting most of my day away on a bad Netflix original movie, only pausing half way through to go move my clothes to the dryer.

I order a pizza for dinner before my night class and go back downstairs to grab my laundry out of the dryer. Just as I’m opening the dryer and emptying my clothes back into my basket I get a text that the pizza guy is downstairs waiting for me.

“Shit, shit, shit.” I huff under my breath, quickly shoving all my clothes in my basket and slamming the dryer shut behind me.

I rush back to my dorm, chucking the basket of clean clothes inside before heading to the stairwell and nearly sprinting down them to get to the ground floor. I meet the rather impatient pizza guy downstairs before bringing the food back up to my room. I’ve just barely finished the first slice half way through a Criminal Minds episode when there’s a knock at the door. I groan, dragging myself from the couch and tossing the blanket off.

I open the door, rolling my eyes, “Dani, you have got to start remembering your key when you-” I’m cut off as I come face to face with him rather than Dani, “Oh, um, hi?”

“Hi,” He repeats, now dressed in a pair of grey joggers and a plain black t-shirt, “I believe you dropped something in the laundry room earlier.”

He reveals his arm from behind his back, holding out his hand with my bright red lacy thong dangling from his pointer finger. I can feel my entire face heat to match the shade of my panties, but I won’t let him get the satisfaction. I go to snatch them from his hand, but he stops me, gripping them in his fist instead and using them as leverage to pull me a bit closer to him.

“Probably want to be a bit more careful where you leave your panties lying around, darling,” He smirks, “Unless you want to leave them on my bedroom floor of course.”

It’s the final straw, those few words spoken in his deliciously deep voice absolutely dripping with that amazing accented tone, on top of the way he’s dressed, every muscle visible beneath the fabric of his t-shirt. I don’t know what I’m doing until I’m pulling him to me by my own grip on the lacy underwear between us, my mouth meeting his and his teeth instantly biting my bottom lip between them.

“Yours or mine?” He breathes out, pulling away from me just long enough to get the words out.

“Where’s your roommate?” I ask breathlessly.

“Vacation,” He says, “Till Wednesday.”

“Yours,” I laugh, pressing my lips back to his, “Definitely yours.”

He walks me backwards down the hall to his dorm room, shoving me up against the wall as he unlocks the door, his lips working down my neck. As soon as the door is open he walks me through it, bending down to grab the backs of my thighs and hoisting me into the air. He kicks the door closed with his foot and I laugh against his mouth as he carries me past his bedroom doorway, slamming that behind us as well.

He lays me out on the bed, nearly tossing me right on top of the mattress, my lacy red underwear still gripped in his hand.

“Any chance you got something this cute under there?” He chuckles, holding them up in both hands to really show them off.

“Why don’t you come find out?” I tease.

He rolls his eyes, finally kneeling onto the edge of the bed and crawling over to me. He starts to lean over me, but I shove his shoulder, forcing him to lay against the mattress before swinging my leg over him. I can feel him underneath me immediately and it makes my legs clench together on either side of him.

“Hi,” I breathe, planting my hands on his chest and meeting his eyes.

“Hi,” He repeats back to me, that bright smile of his making my stomach flip, “You gonna come down here or...?”

“Oh, shut up,” I laugh finally leaning down and connecting our lips once again.

His lips are ridiculously soft against mine while the feeling of his muscles under his t-shirt are quite the opposite. He reaches up to cup my face with both hands, trying to somehow pull me closer as if we aren’t close enough as it is. I can’t figure out exactly where I want to put my hands; his shoulders, his biceps, god, in that amazing curly hair.

My hips start to move against him without my volition and he groans into my mouth, a deliciously deep reverberation that makes me grind my hips into him even more. He grunts against my lips, finally pulling away and resting his forehead against mine instead, breathing heavily.

“You alright there tiger?” I tease him, threading my fingers through his hair, “Need a breather already?”

“Shut your mouth,” He chuckles, grabbing me around the waist and trying to flip us over so he’s on top.

He greatly underestimates the size of his twin dorm bed when he does so, both of us rolling off the edge and tumbling to the shag carpeted floor beneath us. I expect the mood to be ruined, for him to get up and usher me right out the door because how awkward is this, right? I’m beyond surprised when he starts laughing, both of us splayed flat on our backs and heaves out a sigh as he rolls over to face me again.

“That was pretty smooth of me, eh?” He jokes, “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

I shake my head, chuckling too, “No I’m okay, just gonna have a massive bruise on my ass most likely.”

He laughs again, finally pulling himself to his feet and offering me a hand to help me up. I’m not sure what I expect past that, maybe a hug to send me on my way now that the atmosphere has completely changed but that tension is still between us, the same tension that’s been building since the moment he said a single word in the supermarket.

The second I’m back on my feet he shoves me onto the bed and I can’t even begin to hide the shock in my features. He’s back on top of me in seconds, his lips pressed to mine and I’m sure the surprised whimper that leaves my mouth fuels his ego to the gods.

“You alright there tiger?” He mocks, and I resist the urge to reach up and slap him.

“Careful.” I quip, pulling away from him to meet his eyes.

“Careful?” He asks, quirking up his eyebrow at me, “I’m sorry are you telling me what to do sweetheart?”

I gulp, the smooth but stern voice he’s using making my thighs quiver. He seems to notice, his eyes darting down between us and a small chuckle escaping his lips. He looks back up at me, his eyes dark and brooding, before they flicker to my hands at my sides. He grabs my left wrist roughly, holding it above my head against the mattress before doing the same to my right arm as well. I’m nearly squirming underneath him, my entire body steaming to the touch as his eyes bore into mine.

“Something wrong, love?” He asks, the condescending tone to his voice making my whole body shake.

“Course not,” I pant, my breath coming out heavier than I anticipated, “Just fuckin peachy over here.”

He chuckles a bit, his grip on my wrists growing tighter, “You’re not very patient, you know that?”

I’m not sure what it is that’s making me writhe the way I am; perhaps it’s the countless months I’ve gone without sex since my last messy breakup, or maybe it’s the way in which this all panned out with a stranger over some fucking underwear, or fuck, maybe it’s just him and the way that cocky smirk on his face makes my insides twist.

“Patience is a virtue,” I say carefully, making sure to keep my tone even, “I’m more about vices.”

His left hand releases my wrist and I prepare myself for his hand reaching where I need him most, sucking in a breath between my teeth and letting my eyes flutter closed but it never comes. My eyes peel back open to see his hand hovering over my neck instead. He meets my eyes before his fingers finally grace the skin of my throat, applying just the slightest bit of pressure almost as if to test the waters.

I’m nearly dizzy as he does so, the temperature in this room suddenly a million degrees. He removes his hand again, the pressure around my throat leaving me and I whimper in distaste, making him chuckle again.

“Poor thing,” He chastises, my legs clenching together on either side of him, “I can’t do it all though, if only there was a way I could hold down both your wrists and choke that pretty neck.”

I watch his hand dig into the pocket of his joggers and once again pull out the thin red lacy fabric of my panties, holding them between us.

“Mind if I use these?” He asks, clearly knowing the answer but wanting to get a reaction out of me anyways.

“Yes, god,” I gulp, “Please.”

He grabs my hands, moving them completely above my head before wrapping the panties around them a few times, tying them together. He tugs on them a bit to make sure they’re pretty secure before looking back down at me, his eyes completely blown out in lust, his pupil swallowing his surrounding iris.

His lips are back on mine in seconds, his now free hands roaming my body before one hand rests on my neck, gripping the sides and applying a bit more pressure than the last time. I whimper into this mouth and curse myself for doing so as soon as my eyes flutter open to see that cocky smirk on his face once again.

“Eager, sweetheart?” He teases, and my hand reaches up to smack him before I remember I’m bound in a pair of my own underwear, “Ah, ah, be a good girl and stay still.”

Hearing the words good girl come out of his mouth makes my entire body squirm and he grins again, that lopsided condescending grin and I know he’s getting off on this, making me writhe underneath him. He leans down to kiss my stomach, hiking my shirt up as he goes before working his way down and tugging my pants down my legs. I hold my breath in anticipation but when I look down the bed to meet his eyes he simply kisses the inside of my thighs, ghosting his mouth over the thin fabric of my panties.

“Fucking please,” I beg, my breath coming out in heaves, “Is this some kind of joke to you?”

“Please what, princess?” He asks, my legs threatening to squeeze his head between them, “Tell me what you want, hm?”

“You cocky bastard,” I huff, my mind getting fuzzier by the second the closer he gets to my center, “You know what I want.”

He stops abruptly, sitting back up from his small assault on my inner thighs, “What did you say, love? Care to repeat that? Couldn’t quite here you down here.”

There’s an edge to his voice, like glass, it cuts right through me and makes my thighs quiver, “N-no,” I stutter, “Didn’t say anything.”

“That’s what I thought,” He grins, leaning back down between my legs, “Now be a good girl and tell me what you want me to do to you.”

I suck in a breath sharply, but I won’t let him know how his words affect me, “Oh daddy,” I mock, rolling my eyes, “Need you so bad.”

He grabs me by the ankles, flipping me onto my stomach and sends an echoing smack to my ass, the stinging sensation that radiates afterwards making my toes curl. He flips me back onto my back, his dangerously dark eyes meeting mine as he spreads my legs apart once again, holding my thighs down against the mattress.

“Want to try that again, princess?”

“Fuck,” I gasp, the edge to his voice making the whispered swear fall from my mouth involuntarily, “Um, yes.”

“Yes what?” He growls, leaning down to hold my jaw in his hand, his eyes drilling into mine waiting for a response.

“Yes daddy.”

“Now you’re getting it, good girl,” He grins, his hand that was gripping my jaw moving to tuck a piece of hair behind my ear, “Now open up,” I oblige, slowly opening my mouth and he pushes his middle and ring finger past my lips. It catches me a bit off guard, but he only nods his head, “Get them nice and wet for me love, don’t want to hurt you.”

He pulls them from my mouth, a small string of saliva connecting them to my lips. He chuckles a bit, clearly getting a kick out of how worked up I am for him before finally pushing my panties to the side and pressing his fingers into me. I instantly turn my head to the side, muffling the moan that escapes my mouth into my pillow. As soon as he realizes what I’m doing he grabs me by the hair, holding my head straight.

“None of that,” He says sternly, “Wanna hear your pretty sounds, babygirl.”

I’m dangerously close to the edge just from the words pouring from his mouth in that accented tone that makes my entire body shiver. That condescending smirk finds its way back to his lips and I know that he can tell I’m close, just teetering on the edge already.

“Needy little thing, are we?” He teases, “Already gonna cum and daddy’s barely touched you yet.”

His words are almost just enough to push me over the edge, but I hold off as much as I can, straining away from his touch as much as I can with my hands bound above my head and his weight on top of me. I feel the particular twist in my stomach, that burning sensation in the very pit of my abdomen just as my eyes squeeze shut and my vision goes white. His fingers work me through it, his mouth finally hovering over where I need him most, sucking my sensitive bud into his mouth and making me shake.

I feel his fingers withdraw from me and suddenly he’s pushing them past my lips once again, but this time I taste myself on them, swirling my tongue around each one to suck them clean. I meet his eyes as he pulls them from my mouth and my hips involuntarily buck up to meet the bulge prominent in his pants.

“Still needy, are we?” He chuckles.

“Please shut up and take your pants off already.” I beg, my hips bucking up to meet him again.

“You see I would but,” He starts, sitting back on his heels, “It seems I don’t have a condom, would you happen to have one?”

“Would I, no, you have got to be fucking kidding me,” I stutter breathlessly, my blood starting to boil in disbelief, “What kind of guy doesn’t keep a pack of rubbers around you idiot?”

“Careful,” He warns, his voice dropping into that deep calculated tone that makes me shiver, “And perhaps a guy that just moved in this week and hasn’t necessarily had buying rubbers on the mind,” He says, “That is until he met a spunky purple haired girl in the supermarket.”

His words make my stomach do a few somersaults, but I don’t let it extinguish the pissed off fire burning in my stomach knowing that I won’t be getting the relief I desperately need right now.

“You’re serious?” I ask, “You don’t have any?”

“Serious, darling,” He chuckles, “But instead of moping about it, you’re going to take what I give you and say thank you daddy when I’m done, understand?”

I nod my head vigorously, despite wanting to do the exact opposite. What kind of hold does that goddamn accent have on me?

“Good,” He smiles, clearly pleased with my response, “And maybe if you’re a good girl next time daddy will remember to hit the store.”

“Next time?” I ask, not filtering the shock from my voice.

He laughs a bit, reaching up to finally untie my hands, “Yes, next time, did you want this to just be a one-time thing, princess?”

I can’t form the words I want to say as I sit up a bit, rubbing my wrists only slightly from the rough fabric of the lace wrapped around them, “I um, I don’t-”

“That’s what I thought,” He smirks, standing from the bed and holding out a hand to me, “Now come on, didn’t you get pizza?”

I smile, taking his hand and starting to stand to my feet, my legs a bit wobbly and I’m thankful for the stability of his arm to lean on.

“Do you have anything to uh,” I start, cringing when I feel the wetness in between my thighs, “Clean up with?”

“Nope,” He says cheerfully, “You keep that pretty mess I made between those thighs, babygirl.”

My knees nearly buckle, and I’m cursing him for his lack of condoms and the ache between my legs as I pull my pants back on, following him to the door to the hall. He stops abruptly just inside the doorway, turning back to meet my eyes.

“What’s my name?” He asks cheekily.

“Harry,” I say confidently, “Why? Are you worried I forgot already?”

He grabs my ass in his hand tightly, squeezing the skin, his voice calculated, “I said, what’s my name?”

I gulp, leaning into his grip on me a bit more as my knees wobble, “Daddy.”

He releases his grip on my ass, giving it a quick smack, “’Atta girl, let’s get some pizza in you so you’re ready for round two,” He grins, throwing his arm around my shoulder and tucking me into his side as we walk down the hall to my room instead, “Maybe after we can hit the store, I seemed to have forgotten to pick something up last time I went.”

#harry styles #harry #harry styles smut #one direction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #one direction smut #harry smut #harry styles oneshot #daddy!harry #dom!harry #sub!y/n

[the-insomniac-emporium]

We Don't Talk (About That) [Cassandra Dimitrescu/Reader]

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: None Summary: Affection has never been Cassandra's strong point- neither the giving nor the receiving of it. But when it comes to you, she's determined to try, regardless of the obstacles in her path. Notes: Spiritual sequel to Everybody Talks Too Much, but they can be read in any order. Reader is selectively mute, but ends up talking in this one, partially due to being high on a fever, oops. The reader in this one is also a lil bit sassier than some of my other ones, hence why it has tentatively earned my "blunt teeth sharp tongue" tag.

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

“Seriously? You’re wearing white for this?” Cassandra says, eying you with a look of disbelief. All you can really do is shrug in response. After all, your hands are occupied with your current task: Wiping blood off of the corridor floor. That didn’t leave much room for miming, or writing anything down. “You’re going to fuck up your sleeves, you know that, right?” Another shrug, this time with an added humming noise, just for fun. Honestly, you weren’t even sure why Cassandra was hanging out, let alone why she cared if you got your shirt dirty. It’s not like she would be the one to do the laundry. More than that, she was the one who had decided to punish a maiden in the middle of the hallway.

Still, you would never think to voice your questions, or otherwise indicate your feelings. Not that you had feelings about her, or anything, the mere idea of that was ridiculous. For a completely unrelated reason you find yourself glad that she could not see your cheeks from where she stood. Glad I don’t talk, you think, otherwise I’d probably say something really stupid right now. Instead, you focus on your work, scrubbing hard at the floors. Despite your companion’s warning, not even a single drop of blood ends up staining your clothing. That’s why I rolled up my sleeves first, babe!... And that’s why I don’t talk, you think, shaking your head to clear your thoughts.

“That was fast. Sure you didn’t miss a spot?” Cassandra asks, stepping over to where you had cleaned. Before you can protest she’s leaning down to examine the floor. Which would, you know, be fine. If she didn’t have blood (and dirt, and who knows what else) on her gloves, that is. Groaning, you try to slap her wrist, temporarily forgetting your place. Next thing you know she’s pushing you to the ground, on top of you with her hand posed to strike. You flinch, instantly, clamping your eyes shut to prepare for the inevitable. But, just as quickly as she had gotten on you, she climbs right off, refusing to meet your confused gaze, refusing to answer your unspoken questions. “You’re lucky that mother thinks you’re useful,” she spat, leaving you with one last angry huff.

“What the fuck?...” You whisper, as soon as you think she won’t be able to hear you. Of all the things she could have possibly done in response… this was the only one you couldn’t justify. There’s only one thing that could possibly help you cope with your confusion: Cleaning. Thankfully, the same person who had just flipped your mind upside down had also left a few boot prints in her path. Humming softly to yourself, you get right back to work, gleefully ignoring what had just transpired.

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

“Why do they do that?” Cassandra snapped, storming into the library, immediately demanding her older sister’s attention. However, Bela does not respond, merely looking up from her book with an eyebrow raised. Frustrated, Cassandra sits down at the table before slamming her fists onto it. At this, Bela sets her book to the side, realizing that she couldn’t ignore this tantrum. “Oh come on, you know exactly who I’m talking about!”

“Yes, I do, because they’re the only person you’ve given a damn about in a decade, maybe longer,” Bela replies, rolling her eyes. “But that doesn’t mean I have any clue what you’re complaining about this time. What did they do, hmm? Did they brush their hand up against yours? Make a heart with their hands again? Oh, let me guess, they smiled when you walked into the room.” At this point, Cassandra was nothing if not predictable, much to her own frustration. How often had she come to her sister, in confidence, to have this very conversation? Countless times, and never once with a clear goal in mind.

Just a head full of thoughts of you.

“They touched me,” she admits, after a few seconds of agonizing silence. The words feel heavy and wrong on her tongue, like they were coated in syrup, too sweet to be anything other than sickening. “Slapped my hand away like I was a kid sticking a fork in an outlet, for fuck’s sake! Who do they think I am?” Now those words felt better. Angrier- left a worse taste in her mouth, but easier to swallow.

“That depends, were you trying to stick a fork into an outlet? Sounds like the sort of thing you’d do to impress them,” Bela teases, laughing even when her arm gets smacked in retaliation. “Maybe you should just ask them, then, if you can’t fathom why they might touch you. Or you could simply wallow in self pity for another decade, pretending to hate their guts when really you’re desperate to get laid?”

“When did you get so rude?” Cassandra snaps, standing up with a scowl.

“Oh, probably about the eighth time we had this talk?” Bela replies, quick as a whip, smiling all the while. If she was going to have to endure this sort of thing this often, she might as well have some fun with it. But this appeared to be the end of this particular conversation, with a miffed Cassandra making her exit, once more leaving Bela to read in peace… for a while, at least.

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

She can’t find you. She’s looked just about everywhere, asked every maiden she’s come across, and all any of them had to say were nervous apologies. Where were you? Why were you absent, now of all times, when she had finally decided to speak to you? Curse my luck, Cassandra thinks, barely restraining herself from wreaking havoc on her surroundings. Though maybe they’ll show up to take care of my mess, she muses, then thinks better of it when she imagines your exhausted expression. After all, there was only one place left for her to look: Your personal quarters. If you weren’t there, then, well, there’d be a new problem entirely.

“They better have a damn good reason for hiding away,” Cassandra mumbles under her breath. Then she’s opening the door to your room, not bothering to knock. What could you want to hide from her anyway? “Oh shit.” Evidently she hadn’t thought this through. There you were, asleep in bed, shirtless, a washcloth on your forehead. Every muscle in your body seemed to be shivering, and the occasional weak murmur leaves your lips. It doesn’t take more than a moment for Cassandra to act. Clearly you’re cold, hence the shaking, regardless of how warm it feels to her. So she’s grabbing a blanket from your dresser, quickly covering you with it. “Is that better?”

You don’t respond. Not that she truly expected you to. But the way you continue to shake has her even more concerned, and a trace of panic starts to set in. She searches for other blankets, laying them on top of you, confused as to why you aren’t getting better. C’mon, asshole, she thinks, I’m trying to help you! As if summoned by her frustrations, a maiden soon swings the door open, freezing in place when they see her. Instantly she’s whirling around to face them, a cruel remark dying in her throat. Of course it was one of her mother’s favorites. Eventually, she would have to find someone else to take her frustrations out on.

“Lady Cassandra? What are you-” Cynthia, senior staff member of Castle Dimitrescu, veteran of more than five years, starts to ask. But once she spies the pile of blankets on top of you… well, her eyes go wide. “Damn it, my Lady, you’re going to kill them!” With that said she’s rushing forward, setting down a basket of who-knows-what on your nightstand, before quickly removing the extra sheets. Half confused, half furious, Cassandra stands nearby, unable to decide how to react. Perhaps noticing this, Cynthia is quick to explain her actions. “They have a fever, the worst one I’ve seen in all of my years here. They may be shivering, but trust me, their skin might as well be on fire.”

“I was just trying to help,” Cassandra defends, words rushing out before she can stop herself. Fuck, this was embarrassing.

“Clearly, and I don’t blame you. Let’s just be glad that I came to check on them, hmm?” Cynthia suggests, giving an oddly motherly (i.e. reassuring) smile. On one hand, Cassandra doesn’t appreciate being talked to like this, at least not by someone other than her mother. On the other hand, well, she is glad that she hadn’t accidentally killed you. Taking a moment to let her heart rate slow back down, Cassandra moves to lean against the wall closest to you. She can’t help but frown when she sees the way your eyes flurry about beneath their lids. What are you dreaming about? Is it a nightmare, she wonders, or something softer, like you deserve?

“Can… can I help?” She asks, voice hardly more than a whisper. It was too late to save herself from embarrassment, but it wasn’t too late to contribute to your recovery. Or at least that’s what she hoped. There’s relative silence for a few moments, as Cynthia thinks over her words, swapping out the damp washcloth on your forehead all the while. When she finally replies, she does not look up from her task. Always the professional.

“Stay with them. If they get worse, come find me immediately. If they wake up, try to get them to drink some water, and ask if they’ve been injured recently. I couldn’t find any wounds on them, but this mess reeks of an infection,” Cynthia says. Opening the basket she had brought in with her, she removes several bottles from within, examining their labels with a tight-lipped frown. “None of these will do shit- pardon my language, my Lady- if it’s an infection, but it should help them fight off the fever until I can get them some proper antibiotics. Well, until the Duke can, that is. Make sure to ask them if they have any allergies to medicine before you give them anything, and please read the directions. They only need to take one kind of pill, alright? I only brought a few kinds in case they can’t have certain ones. Is that clear, Lady Cassandra?”

“Crystal clear,” she chimes, only briefly looking away from you. It’s enough for Cynthia, however, and she leaves with a simple bow. Once more alone with you, Cassandra approaches, gently taking your hand within her own. “You’d better wake up soon. I don’t want to have to babysit you all day…” Doesn’t want to, but would, if that’s what you needed. Wouldn’t hesitate for even a second. At most, she’d make someone fetch her a book to read while she waited. Except… now that she glanced around your room, she found that there were some things to keep her entertained. Like your beloved notepad.

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

What do you mean? I don’t think she feels that way about me. Don’t be ridiculous, she doesn’t like anyone. Because I pay attention to her! It’s not hard to know what she does and does not appreciate, you just need to observe her. No, not like that, don’t be gross. Keep teasing me and my cheeks won’t be the only thing around here that’s red. Oh fuck off, fine, I’ll go talk to her, but you owe me one. Then the page ends, with the next two having been torn out. A few letters here and there are still legible, on what little remains of the missing pieces. Lov- and want her- and wish. Try as she might, Cassandra cannot find the rest of the pages. What had you possibly written that would make you discard all evidence? It’s not like anyone normally went through your notepad. Had you predicted that one day Cassandra would do this?

“Damn it, damn it, damn it!” She growls, dropping the object with an angry sigh. “Who the hell were you writing about? Who were you fucking talking to? Why won’t you wake up, you goddamn asshole?” Through all of her shouting, you do nothing but shake in place, shivering against a non existent cold. Several hours had passed since Cassandra’s arrival, without you doing so much as batting an eye. Slowly but surely, she was being driven insane, exhausted from worry and jealousy alike. Strange how the most obvious answer eluded her so consistently… Yet hope does not entirely abandon her, as eventually her tantrum manages to pierce the haze around your overheating mind.

“Shhhhhhh. Please,” you mumble, eyes still closed, hardly aware of anything around you. All you really knew was that someone was being insufferable. Hell, your fever was driving you wild, and you didn’t even think about the fact that you hadn’t spoken out loud in front of anyone for over three months. Later, after you recovered, you would be glad that it was Cassandra who finally heard your voice. “Inside voice, mhm? Sleepy time…”

“Did- did you just?” Cassandra asks, stunned, shaking her head as if it might make her realize she was dreaming. But no, this was real, and you really had just spoken to her. It’s enough of a shock to render her speechless for a minute or so.

“Thanks, babe. Need to sleep this off. Or… no, wait, I was supposed to tell someone something?” You ramble, trying to sit up, a hand instinctively going to hold your head. The washcloth falls off of you, and you stare at it in confusion. Before you can start questioning the nature of it’s (or your own) existence, you are distracted by Cassandra, who has traded her own perplexion for determination. Next thing you know, you’re quietly sipping at a glass of water. Exhausted, despite having just been asleep, you eye the nearby medicine with curiosity. “I’m… supposed to tell Cassandra something, maybe? Fuck, why is it so warm in here?”

“You have a fever, dumbass,” Cassandra replies, once more finding her voice, still too overwhelmed to process what’s happening. “Look, you have to take something for your head, okay? Then we can… then we can talk about your feelings all you want, okay?” Maybe she was being a bit presumptuous about what you needed to talk about. Or maybe she was just, for once in her life, being hopeful. Regardless, she presents the medicine to you, getting ready to ask about allergies. Before she can, however, you’ve silently reached for the Ibuprofen and started opening it up.

“This’ll do. For the head, not for talking. We don’t-” you pause to take the pills, gulping down half a glass of water with them- “we don’t talk about that. Feelings. Makes her get mad, and I don’t want her to be mad,” you say, shuddering a little at the thought.

“I won’t get mad this time. Besides, you don’t normally talk at all,” Cassandra replies, rolling her eyes again. Finally, for the first time since waking up, you take a good, long look in her direction. Suddenly you’re putting the pieces together, groaning in protest when you do. How had you not realized? How deep into this fever were you?... “Don’t tell me you just figured it out, ‘babe’? I’m amazed you’re functioning at all right now.”

“Fuck you, Cassie,” you snap, mostly teasing. If she wasn’t freaking out about what you had said, well, then maybe you didn’t need to say much more at all. “You’ll still like me when I’m awake enough to be too scared to talk, right?”

“Honestly?... I was hoping this would be more of a permanent thing,” she admits, refusing to meet your gaze as she puts away the unused medicine. “But I guess I can live with being the only one who knows what your voice sounds like. So don’t you dare fucking talk to anyone else, alright?” She’s joking now, too, sounding more relaxed than she usually was. Even with your body fighting against itself, you can’t help but laugh with her. Then she’s slowly sitting on the edge of your bed, next to you, watching you with adoration clear in her eyes. “You’re going to be fine, right? Because if you die on me, I swear I’m going to kill you.”

“With you as my nurse? I’ll be lucky to last the night,” you joke, pretending to whimper when she gives you a playful slap on the arm. “Nah, nah, I’ll be alright, just as soon as I get some rest. Probably. Maybe you should, uh, stay with me? Just in case.” Next thing you know, Cassandra is pushing you down against the mattress, placing a surprisingly soft kiss to your forehead. Then she puts the washcloth back on you, making sure it’s still somewhat cold. Without another word she settles in, leaning against the backboard of the bed, close enough for you to feel her warmth, but far enough that she wouldn’t risk raising your temperature. “Goodnight, Cass,” you murmur, before letting yourself drift back to sleep...

#cassandra dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu x reader #resident evil: village #re8 village #blunt teeth sharp tongue #that means the reader is a tad sassy #not quite unhinged tho #a nice middle ground in this one

[qitwrites]

⬅ Previous || 11 || Next ➡

The hoodie incident begins with Kaminari, as most absentminded things do in the dorm.

It’s a cold Saturday morning, and Kaminari can’t find his hoodie anywhere. He briefly looks through his room, the common room, the dishwasher (because it’s happened before and no, he would not like to comment), and the courtyard before deciding he’s probably lost it. Just as he starts to make his way back, with plans to stop by Ashido’s or Kirishima’s room for a spare jacket, the jingle of a machine stops him in his tracks.

It’s the sound of a dryer that’s completed its cycle.

Kaminari doesn’t remember the last time he did his laundry but decides its worth a look anyway. He ventures into the laundry room, and when he sees the familiar shade of yellow, slightly worn out and well-loved but vibrant yellow nonetheless, he picks it up from the basket and beams.

‘How did you get here?’ he muses and puts it on with a satisfied sigh. He doesn’t question why the hoodie is so warm, or why it smells like fresh detergent, or how it’s way too big in pretty much every single way. He just decides that it’s his and leaves for his room.

Satou, for the life of him, cannot find his yellow hoodie.

It was in the laundry basket when he’d left to go grab a glass of water, and it’s gone by the time he gets back. It’s a whole ass mystery honestly.

It’s too cold to be without a hoodie, so Satou decides to borrow one from Kouda for the time being, and figure it out later. Kouda hands him a purple one with chewed up drawstrings and a front pouch pocket that sheds lint, and Satou gives him a huge grin as thanks.

This works out fine for everyone so far, but then Kouda drops some milk on his only other hoodie an hour later, and he can’t ask for the one he gave Satou back because Satou hasn’t found his either. So, Kouda just goes to Shoji and asks if he has any jackets to spare. Shoji, ever the minimalist, has a limited collection of clothes, but there is a sleeveless jacket, dark and warm, on a hanger in his closet that he happily hands over to Kouda.

Shoji is a pretty warm-blooded person, but the day is quite cold. When Tokoyami sees him shiver once, almost imperceptibly, he goes to his closet and pulls out a sleeveless moto jacket, dark as midnight and lined with faux fur. It isn’t really Shoji’s style, but he appreciates the gesture and shrugs it on. It’s warm and smells like nothing, and they go back to watching a YouTube documentary on Tokoyami’s floor, with Dark Shadow curled up nearby.

Dark shadow has the biggest soft spot for Tsuyu, so when Tokoyami is in the common room chatting with Iida and Ojiro later in the day, Dark Shadow sneaks off towards Tsuyu and tells her Tokoyami is feeling a bit cold, and happily takes the offered green jacket. He hides it away from Tokoyami the best he can.

Tsuyu, with her frog like disposition, does not do well with the cold. In fact, it’s one of her biggest vices, so the minute her jacket is gone, she feels herself seize up. Jirou walks by a few minutes later to see Tsuyu curled up on the couch, not moving and dressed too lightly.

‘Tsuyu,’ she shouts, rushing towards the green haired girl while pulling her hoodie off. She gently nudges Tsuyu into the material of her maroon hoodie, and Tsuyu finally exhales, warmth seeping into her extremities. She gives Jirou a happy smile.

‘Thank you,’ she croaks, and Jirou pats her head before plopping down on the couch next to her.

Jirou feels the cold soon enough, even as she snuggles into Tsuyu, but she doesn’t want to go to her room and pull on another jacket. She’s having fun watching a music concert on TV while others talk in the space around them. It’s homely, and she’s scared of breaking the moment by leaving, because they don’t get moments like this very often. Moments where everything is normal, or as close to normal as they can get, and the air is calm and the dust settles in random pools of sunlight streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows lining the hall. So she just sits and waits.

Bakugou shows up 45 minutes into the concert, a black and orange hoodie draped over his arm. He leaves it on the couch next to Jirou as he walks over to the kitchen to refill his bottle, and because Jirou lives to irritate the ever-loving shit out of Bakugou, she simply picks the hoodie up and pulls it on. The material is soft and cool and smells of fabric softener. The sleeves are more worn out than the rest of the hoodie, tiny holes and jagged corners littering the cloth sporadically. Tsuyu gives Jirou a nod of approval, and she returns it with a cocky smirk of her own.

Bakugou takes one look at the back of the couch, one look at the girls, one more look at the back of the couch before he snarls, exploding the bottle in his hands and spraying water everywhere.

‘I’ll KILL you.’

‘Try me,’ Jirou taunts drily, not moving her eyes from the screen. Tsuyu protectively curls into her, and the two slump lower into the couch.

Bakugou takes one step towards them when Kirishima, sunshine Kirishima, Bakugou tamer Kirishima, the lord and savior Kirishima steps into the room, takes one look at Bakugou’s expression, another at Jirou’s frame covered in black and orange before shrugging off his green hoodie and stuffing it over Bakugou’s head, wrestling him into it. The blonde yells and kicks the whole time but lets it happen because Kirishima’s hoodie is warm, slightly oversized, ridiculously comfortable and smells safe.

‘You’re going to train right?’ Kirishima asks with a wide grin. ‘Let me come with ya! I’ll let you beat me up as much as you’d like.’

Bakugou snarls in Jirou’s direction one more time but surprisingly relents, pulling Kirishima away by the collar of his shirt.

‘Clean that shit up,’ he shouts over his shoulder at Jirou, referring to the exploded water bottle in the middle of the room.

‘Ok mom,’ she shouts back, and sniggers at the yells of fuck you and shitty hair let me go I will end her. Messing with Bakugou is the best. She waits for the hour mark to pass on the concert before getting up to find a mop and a dustpan.

Kirishima and Bakugou train for upwards of 2 hours, oscillating between working their quirks till their bodies ache and sparring without their quirks to strengthen their bodies. Their fights look like they’re dancing, so attuned are they to each other’s movements, so familiar with each other’s fighting styles, it’s almost art. Bakugou is faster, more agile, and hits where it hurts, but Kirishima is an immovable, unbreakable wall, taking hit after hit and pushing back, standing strong, giving as good as he gets.

They’re drenched in sweat by the end of it, and Bakugou pulls on the green hoodie as the cold seeps in, giving Kirishima a feral smile.

‘Shouldn’t have let ears steal mine,’ he smirks, before sauntering over to the vending machine to get himself a hot drink. Kirishima just shrugs with a smile, and lays down on the ground, slowly stretching out his hamstrings. He’s always run a bit warm, so the cold isn’t anything unbearable, and he doesn’t mind Bakugou wearing his hoodie. The blonde doesn’t do well in the cold at all, so he’s a lot more manageable when he’s warmed up.

Kirishima twists to the side and something under one of the exercise mats catches his eye. He rolls over to it and picks it up and finds an off-white jacket roughly in his size. He feels like he’s seen it before, so he just shrugs and pulls it on. It’s a nice thick material, and fits just right, maybe erring on the side of tight around his shoulders. Bakugou comes back, cocks his eyebrow at the jacket but doesn’t say anything.

He throws a drink at Kirishima and starts walking back to the dorms. Kirishima smiles at the warm coffee in his hands and runs to catch up, launching into a story about a kitten, a tree, and a stupid idea.

‘Can we drop by the gym? I think I left my jacket there,’ Ojiro says to Tenya as they walk towards the main entrance. Tenya had expressed his desire to go out for a walk, and Ojiro, who’d been in earshot, had decided to tag along, having felt cooped up from sitting inside the dorm building all day. Iida agrees enthusiastically and they begin walking to the gym, passing Kirishima and Bakugou on the way.

It isn’t until Kirishima is out of earshot that Ojiro realizes the guy is wearing his jacket, and when he watches the red head walk into the dorm, he decides he doesn’t really mind. He didn’t want the jacket back cause he’s feeling cold per se, he just wanted to make sure he got it back. He can pick it up from Kirishima later he decides.

‘On second thought, I think I’ll look for it later,’ Ojiro murmurs, and Iida shoots him a confused look. They start moving away from the gym, heading down a well-worn path often traversed by the students and talk about upcoming hero movies and its easy and fun and the sun is bright not harsh. It’s a perfect day for a walk.

Iida and Ojiro get surprisingly into their conversation that they don’t even notice someone is yelling at them and when the earth just sort of vanishes beneath Ojiro’s feet, he yelps out loud.

He looks over to see Iida’s eyes widened in surprise and then there’s black tendrils wrapping around their hips as they’re yanked back. Looking down, Ojiro’s stomach whoops at the wide chasm, as if at the edge of a cliff. He might’ve been super invested in his conversation with Iida, but there’s no way they missed the edge of a cliff, right? Also, was there always a cliff here? What the hell?

‘Guys.’ They look up to see Midoriya standing there, pulling them up with his black whip. He’s like a guardian angel, but he’s still not great with it so when he yanks them up, they land pretty hard on their sides, and Ojiro lands in a mysterious puddle of water, effectively soaked to the bone.

‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ Midoriya gushes, rushing towards them. ‘Shit, I didn’t mean to put you guys down so hard, are you alright?’

Iida gets up, fortunate enough to not have landed in a puddle of water and straightens his glasses. ‘What is going on? Where did this cliff come from?’

Midoriya shrugs. ‘The land seems to be giving out weirdly. I was out here doing some strength training and the land just crumbled away. It reappears after some time. Also, it’s not a cliff.’ He points at the spot he just pulled them from. ‘Seems like a quirk, some kind of illusion one. The land had given away and the fall is steep, but it’s not a cliff. Just looks like one.’

Ojiro’s head spins with the random assortment of info, but he has more pressing problems to deal with. His soaked shirt is making him shiver, and it feels icky against his skin.

‘Oh, you must be cold,’ Midoriya notices immediately, and before Ojiro can say he’s fine, Midoriya shrugs off his All might hoodie and holds it out for Ojiro. ‘You can pull your shirt off and use this for now! It’ll suck if you get sick.’

Ojiro almost says he’s ok, but he’s getting colder and colder and the hoodie looks so warm and inviting so he decides screw it and peels his shirt off, shuddering when the cold air nips at his skin. He quickly tries to brush off any stray droplets before tugging on the hoodie, and sighs at the warmth he’s enveloped in. Midoriya is like a furnace apparently, and it’s wonderful. He gives the green-haired man a warm smile.

‘Thanks man.’

‘No problem!’ Midoriya says. ‘I think I’ll go back to the dorms and give everyone a heads up about this, maybe tell Aizawa-sensei as well. Will you guys be ok?’

‘We will be fine,’ Iida says, hands rigidly gesticulating in the space between them. ‘Ojiro and I will survey the land around and see if there’s anything we’re missing. We will be careful, so do not worry about us Midoriya.’

Midoriya flashes them an easy smile and with a wave, he makes his way back to the dorm.

Midoriya loves that hoodie, an old All Might piece that’s a tad big for him but warm, warmer than most of his clothes. He’ll ask Ojiro for it later he decides, slowly trekking back to the dorms. The whole floor giving away and light playing tricks business seemed more silly than villainous, but anyway, it made sense to bring a teacher into the loop to deal with it accordingly.

As he walks back to the dorms, the sweat on his body cools and chills him to the bone, and Midoriya misses his All Might sweater with a vengeance. Rubbing his hands along his arms, Midoriya picks up the pace and sighs in relief when the dorms come into view. He’s maybe 150 meters away when a familiar voice calls out to him.

‘Midoriya.’

Todoroki looks comfy and fashionable in a beige coat, a white shirt, and trousers paired with semi-formal shoes. Midoriya puts it together and realizes he’s coming back from one of his hospital visits, and gives him a warm, familial smile.

‘Welcome back, Todoroki. What’s up?’

Todoroki nods at him, smile small and hesitant, but there. It’s so much progress from where they started, like he’s thawing and cracking the ice around his soul.

‘Just got back. What are you up to? And why aren’t you wearing a jacket, it’s a bit cold outside, isn’t it?’

For Todoroki, the jacket is more for show than a necessity, considering his temperature quirk. He’d once told Midoriya that by using clothing to regulate his body temp it allows him to conserve energy, but overall it wasn’t too much of an effort for him to regulate himself on the daily. It’s all so fascinating, and Midoriya has like 4 pages worth of notes on this alone.

‘It’s a long story,’ Midoriya laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. He gestures for the dorm entrance. ‘Should we head in?’

Todoroki nods again, and Midoriya starts walking, trying to find things to talk about. He knows Todoroki’s hospital visits leave him feeling a little lost, a little sad, a little drained. He’s deciding between a new hero analysis he did about Sniper and a puppy rescue video he watched on Instagram when a coat is placed over his shoulder, extra warm on the left. He startles at that, turning to look at Todoroki with wide eyes.

Todoroki acts like he’s done nothing and starts the conversation instead. ‘On the way here, in the train, I saw someone wearing a tomato costume. I am confused, to say the least.’

And they don’t speak of the jacket. Midoriya slips his hands through the sleeves, pulling it around himself tightly and laughs at the imagery in his head. Todoroki’s soul thaws a little bit more and they walk to the dorm, contemplating why anyone would be in costume outside of Halloween.

They part ways when Midoriya says he wants to talk to Aizawa, and Todoroki heads to his room in a lighter mood. It seems to be a pretty common occurrence once he talks to Midoriya. Though, if he’s being honest, that seems to be the case with most people that speak to Midoriya, with the exception of Bakugou.

Todoroki settles into his room for the evening, content with just reading his manga and maybe getting some homework done when he hears a knock on his door. Bookmarking his spot in the manga, Todoroki walks to the door and opens it to find a grinning Sero.

‘Hey man, got a minute?’

Todoroki nods, and gestures for Sero to come inside.

His friendship with Sero is strange. It’s strange because it’s effortless. Sero doesn’t push him to talk or open up, he doesn’t question him, doesn’t stare at him because of his dad, doesn’t ask about his scar or his family, doesn’t really say much at all. They share comfortable silences, and Sero shows him new music, new clothes, and new stories. Todoroki, in turn, shares his mangas, advice about training, and his love for Soba.

Sero walks into his room and sits at the low table, placing a cloth bag on it. When Todoroki sits in front of him, he pushes the bag towards him.

‘For you!’

Todoroki’s eyes shoot up in surprise and he carefully opens the bag. Inside he finds a jacket, made from a cloth that is brick red, the material cotton soft and breathable. It’s cut like a short kimono, and the patterns are simple and subtle. It looks very much like the clothing Sero normally wears, kinda bohemian.

‘Mom sent me a care package, and I think I talked about you a lot on the phone, so she included this for you as well! Apparently she found it at a nice boutique or something.’

Todoroki isn’t used to friends, much less gifts from said friends. Something inside his chest shifts, and he hugs the jacket to his chest.

‘Thank you.’ His voice shakes just the slightest bit.

Sero’s laugh is warm. ‘Try it on man! I need to take a picture and send it to my mom or she’ll think I kept it for myself.’

Todoroki pulls the jacket on slowly, and Sero whistles low.

‘Damn, looks so good! The shoulders fit nicely too. Do you like it?’

Todoroki nods. ‘It’s very comfortable. Please tell your mother I said thank you.’

‘Fo sure, fo sure. Can I get a picture?’

Todoroki is awkward as all hell when it comes to pictures, but he agrees, and Sero takes one mercifully quickly. When they both stand up, Sero walks over to him, throws an arm over his shoulder and pulls him close for another picture. Todoroki throws up a peace sign, something he’s seen the others do just to have something to do with his hands.

‘This one’s real nice!’ Sero says, admiring the photo.

‘Send it to me later.’

Sero reaches out for a fistbump that Todoroki returns. ‘Sounds good yo. I’m gonna get going, I’ll catch you later yeah?’

Todoroki nods and with that, Sero leaves his room. Todoroki belatedly realizes that the jacket smells like Sero- like sandalwood and fresh tea. Perhaps his family smells like that. The thought twists that little something in his chest even more.

Tonight is act-like-bakugou-will-only-cook-for-himself-and-eat-the-“leftovers”-that-can-somehow-feed-the-entire-class night and Sero loves to stand by the kitchen isle and contribute with his stellar sense of humor. Watching Bakugou create mini-explosions and scream bloody murder is just a bonus.

When he gets there, the blonde is already working on dinner, clad in a green hoodie that looks a lot like the one Kirishima wears. Sero takes a seat by the kitchen island and pulls his phone out to scroll through some memes when he suddenly finds himself assaulted by a face-full of glitter.

Gasping, Sero leans back in his chair and falls on his ass, the glitter coming with him. He hears shouting and laughing and someone saying You have, and please excuse my French, pretty shitty taste Monsieur and Sero is so confused.

When he pulls the lump of glitter away, he realizes it’s a jacket, a sequined jacket that’s a bright, bright gold. It’s soft in his hands, and the inner lining feels like actual silk.

‘What-‘

‘It’s Aoyama’s,’ Kirishima says, pulling Sero to his feet. ‘I got here right when Bakugou yelled you fucking walking disco ball little shit and Aoyama decided throwing the jacket was the way to go. Clearly,’ Kirishima gestures at him, ‘he missed.’

Sero laughs and holds up the jacket. He turns it in his hand and takes a closer look at the fit and the material. Considering it’s Aoyama, he shouldn’t be surprised, but the jacket is actually the perfect balance between tacky and really, really nice. Sero looks over at the two blondes yelling at each other, Bakugou brandishing a spatula while Aoyama threatens him with his navel laser and Sero just shrugs and pulls the jacket on.

It fits like a dream, comfortable on his bones, the length perfect even on his tall frame. He adjusts the sleeves and is surprised by how deep the pockets on the inside are. When he looks up again, everyone is staring at him.

Sero clears his throat self-consciously. ‘What?’

‘It looks good on you Monsieur,’ Aoyama says with an actual sparkle in his eye.

‘Damn Hanta, looking like a whole-ass meal,’ Kirishima cheers, and even Bakugou has a quirked brow. He gives him a small nod and then snorts, ‘Still looks like a shiny voltorb.’

‘I’ll take the compliment,’ Sero grins, shaking his torso this way and that. The light catches in these fun and trippy ways, and Kirishima playfully shields his eyes. Aoyama bounds over to him and winks. ‘That’s not all.’

He runs his hands up Sero’s arms, and the gold glitter turns to silver, and Kirishima squeals.

‘That’s so cool!’

Sero runs his own hand up the sides and he feels like a child again, and it’s amazing.

He looks at Kirishima. ‘Want to try drawing a penis on the back?’

Kirishima howls, Bakugou throws a spatula at Sero, and Aoyama looks rightfully horrified. He lets Sero take the jacket anyway.

Iida is not happy when he finds Aoyama in a sleeveless jersey when its cold enough to see your breath, so he lectures him for a good 4 minutes before handing over his track suit jacket. Aoyama wears it with a grumble of All my twinkling has died a painful death.

Uraraka drapes her shrug over a napping Iida sprawled across the couch after a long day, belly full of Bakugou’s amazing food. She pulls his glasses off and keeps it on the table, tucks the sleeves against Iida’s body and hopes the make-shift blanket works.

Mina thinks Uraraka’s outfit is missing something and throws a denim jacket on her from her own closet, a cute cropped piece with some artfully placed rips. Uraraka beams at it, digging her hands deep into the front pockets and posing for a picture.

Momo watches this happen and shyly offers her own chunky sweater to Mina, asking her to make an outfit around it. Mina smashes the challenge, and the end result is so good that Momo insists she keep the jacket, claiming she can honestly just make her own, even though they both know she won’t, because, you know, Momo is the most conscientious person ever that actually cares about the economy.

When the night winds down and everyone finds themselves sprawled over the couches and each other, Hagakure follows Uraraka’s example and pulls her bomber jacket off before draping it over Momo and herself, a make-shift blanket. Momo huffs out an amused laugh and pulls the invisible girl closer. The night is cold, but the common space is just warm embers and crackling fires and the smell of smores.

And finally, just before bed, Shinsou decides to tackle the mountain of clothes on his chair. He hangs the jackets, folds the pants and shirts, and rolls up the socks. At the very bottom of the pile is a well-loved, slightly faded but still ridiculously bright yellow hoodie that belongs to the one and only. Shinsou huffs in amusement, and proceeds to pull it on before climbing into bed.

The hoodie incident begins with Kaminari, as most absentminded things do in the dorm.

It doesn’t really end though.

#boku no hero academia #bnha #my hero academia #mha #bnha: thicker than blood #kaminari denki #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #class 1-a headcanons #class 1a shenanigans #class 1a #aka the hoodie incident #this entire story is just driven by my need to put everyone in everyone's clothes #its the first time ive mentioned all characters in one piece #IT WAS EXHAUSTING #momo yaoyorozu #jirou kyouka #aoyama yuuga #sero hanta #midoriya izuku #todoroki shouto #its everyone #all of them #can you tell i got tired towards the end #because i got tired towards the end

[frostedfaves]

Repercussions (6)

Masterlist

Pairing: dark!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader, future dark!WandaNat x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha tries to get you accustomed to your new life, and Wanda has a confession for her best friend.

Warnings: dark themes, slightly sexual content

A/N: currently wishing that Wanda and Nat teaming up to obsess over their girlfriend together had been my plan all along because I’m in love with the concept already! this part’s pretty tame compared to previous ones because it’s more of a filler chapter, but I might post 7 tomorrow to make up for it...anyway, tell me your thoughts!!

Previous part

-

Commotion in the connected bathroom brought you to consciousness the following morning, and you sat up to stretch as your fiery-haired captor walked into the room. Her eyes trailed over your frame shamelessly, a soft smile on her lips as she walked over to drop clothes in the laundry basket on the opposite side of the room.

“Good morning, my love. Feeling rested?”

“Yeah, I guess,” you mumbled as you rubbed your eyes, jumping back when you opened them to the sight of Natasha sitting next to you. “Fuck, you’re quiet.”

“Lots of practice, baby.” She leaned forward to peck your lips, stealing a few more quick kisses before pulling away with a grin. “I’ll make some breakfast while you get ready.”

“Ready for what? I’m not exactly allowed to leave.”

“There’s nothing out there for you!” she snapped, taking a deep breath and bringing her smile back to the surface. “I wanted to give you a proper tour of our home today, one that you could remember anyway.”

You got up and grabbed some things for the shower, deciding that it was far too early to fight with someone who had the upper hand anyway. Of course you took your time anyway, moving so slowly with showering, moisturizing and dressing that Natasha returned to the room to look for you.

“Food’s getting cold,” she huffed, arms folded across her chest as she stood in the doorway.

“Thought you couldn’t cook anyway.”

“I’ve been learning from Wanda.” 

As soon as you stood up from putting on socks, she grabbed your wrist roughly and pulled you behind her on her way back to the kitchen. She then pulled out your chair and pushed you into it, taking a seat across from you and digging into her meal. The pancakes and eggs on your plate seemed surprisingly edible, and the two of you ate in silence until your plates were cleared. After washing the dishes, Natasha took hold of your hand, lacing her fingers between yours as she pulled you to your feet once more.

“I don’t want you to get bored, so you have access to every room except the bedroom at the end of the hall. I locked it so you wouldn’t be tempted to wander in there,” she told you with a wink as she led you away from the kitchen.

She showed you the spacious backyard, pointing out the different swings attached to the huge trees and the jacuzzi that was covered but ready for use. She also implied that you’d be in trouble if you were to step foot in the garage again, especially to try and escape. She trusted you enough to leave the keys on display, and wouldn’t hesitate to put you in your place if you made any moves.

She showed you a few more bedrooms (one that held whatever clothing she’d moved from the tower), and another bathroom before leading you to the main level again. There you found a third bathroom, one more bedroom, a dining room with a much bigger table and a living room with a huge television. 

There was another television in the basement, even bigger than the one in the living room, and a room marked “Security” that was also off limits to you. Around another corner is where you found a gaming area. You sat on the pool table and looked around at the arcade machines and video games that were in various areas of the room. You were so lost in admiring everything that you didn’t realize Natasha was speaking to you until her hands were on your thighs, spreading them apart enough for her to step between them.

“You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?” Her tone was playful, and you felt yourself physically relaxing as her fingers ran back and forth between your hips and knees.

“No, sorry. I’ve never seen so many games in one house.”

“Well, they’re all yours now, printsessa. Really, you can have anything you want...” Her voice seemed to deepen as one of her hands landed on your lower back, her forehead leaning against yours to give you a perfect view of her eyes as they darkened with lust. “All you have to do is ask.”

Her free hand joined the other as she kissed you, pulling you closer to the edge of the pool table as she worked her tongue into your mouth. Your legs wrapped around her waist as you got lost in the feeling, breathing a little heavier as her lips separated from yours to ghost over your neck, nibbling here and there until she found a spot that made your back arch in her hold. After teasing you until you were grinding impatiently against her, she pushed you back onto the table and started unbuttoning your jeans just as someone cleared their throat.

Natasha pulled back slightly and the two of you turned your head to see Wanda in the doorway, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. You quickly sat up as Wanda walked into the room.

“I’m uh, so sorry to burst in like this, Tash. Clint is here and I also need to talk to you when he’s gone.”

“Alright, I’ll be back.” 

She sighed in frustration as she forced herself to leave you while she ran upstairs, and you found yourself looking at the seemingly nervous witch while she avoided your eyes. You weren’t sure if it was the fact that she held control over your mind for a week (or possibly more), but you felt surprisingly at ease in her presence, which only made you more curious about her.

“You’re not using your powers on me right now, are you?” Your question broke the silence and caused her to finally make eye contact with you, her gaze significantly less red than the first time but still nice.

“No, of course not. Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know. I just feel weirdly peaceful around you, and I thought maybe you were doing something.”

She shook her head as her polite smile turned into a grin, and she seemed to just muster up the courage to say more to you when Natasha came downstairs again.

“Okay, Clint’s gone,” she told Wanda as she approached you again, leaving a gentle kiss on your lips and cheek. “Go play a game while we talk in the other room, baby.”

Natasha watched you jump down from the pool table obediently and head over to the nearest arcade machine, an adoring smile on her lips the entire time. She then turned to Wanda and nodded at the couch in front of the television, following her over there and sitting next to her.

“What’s going on? You seem shaky.”

“I think I should stop helping you,” Wanda told her, shrinking back a bit when Natasha frowned.

“What, you got cold feet or something?”

“No, I just have a problem and I don’t want it to get worse.” She sighed heavily, mentally reminding herself to stay calm. “I think I’m falling in love with Y/N just as quickly as you are. She’s been in my head since the night I went with you to her apartment and I thought maybe it was just physical attraction but… Honestly, I’d kill anyone if it meant being able to have her the way that you do, and I don’t think it’s fair of me to stick around when I feel this way.”

Natasha was silent for a few moments with a neutral expression, and Wanda didn’t dare listen to her thoughts in fear of hearing something she’d hate. Finally her best friend turned to her with a playful smirk.

“Well, as long as my printsessa agrees, I don’t see why we can’t share her.”

Wanda felt her muscles releasing every bit of anxiety-induced tension they held, and a timid smile appeared on her own features. 

“Are you sure, though? If this isn’t something you want, I have no problem just--”

“It’s fine,” she chuckled as she grabbed Wanda’s hand to stop her from rambling. “It’s new for me, but I’m willing to try it out. Maybe our baby will listen better to both of us.”

“Our baby...I love the sound of that.”

“I do too.” She squeezed her hand with a suddenly mischievous grin as she came to a realization. “Since you’ll be joining us, I have something to show you.”

-

Tags: @littlegasps @imnotasuperhero @emilyprentisswife @fayhar @bebe404 @seventeen0 @nat-km-mh @natasha-danvers @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @sxphiaswitch @becka107 @trikruismybitch @cherrieloco @muted-stoneheart @its-a-long-way-to-ba-sing-se @mjaudrey @buckmesidewaysandcallmesteve @darkangelxoxo @witchxaf @sakurat123 

#dark!natasha romanoff x reader #dark!natasha #dark!wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x fem! reader #wandanat x reader #dark!wandanat x reader #dark!wanda maximoff x reader #avengers x reader #avengers #avengers fanfic #avengers imagine #the avengers #avengers x you #avengers x fem!reader #marvel x reader #marvel #marvel imagine #black widow #black widow x reader #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x reader

[ashintheairlikesnow]

A concept: Allyn is cold. Allyn steals one of Jameson’s oversized gray hoodies that is like a dress on them. Jameson reacts

CW: Referenced past captivity, vague allusion to past noncon/dubcon, Jameson's masochism makes an appearance, like PG-13 spicy thoughts

He's got the laundry in his arms, the plastic basket carefully balanced as he moves step by step up the stairs. It's his stuff - a few tshirts and some boxers, couple pairs of jeans and sweatpants, his big hooded sweater on top - and he's a little proud, honestly, that he owns so much now.

A whole week's worth of clothes, extra socks. Socks at all. He's got two pairs of shoes now, regular and rainy-day. When it gets chilly he has sweaters to wear, three of them, plus the hooded one.

None of the stuff is all that special, all pre-owned thrift store donations, but... It's all his.

He wears clothes all day now, all the time, barely taking the time to peel his shirt off as he steps into the shower. If it wasn't gross as fuck, he'd stay dressed in the shower, too.

The fucking therapist he sees twice a week now says he's choosing to cover yourself fully as a way to exert control over your body and become familiar with it belonging to you again, her voice soft and sympathetic. She tastes like oranges when she speaks, bursts of membranes dissolving into bright sweetness on his tongue. He likes her.

He doesn't tell her that.

The laundry is all still warm from the dryer and smells like the fabric softener sheets that Jake uses, tears in half to make them last longer. Jameson never fucking asked, Jake Stanton just says things like he assumes Jameson cares about hearing them.

If Jake's voice tastes like water that has worn down mountains, Jameson wonders if that means he's the mountain Jake is wearing down.

When he steps back into the room, Allyn is hanging a garland along the top of the window, up on their tiptoes. They made the garland themself, taking twine and carefully stapling folded over, cut up tissue paper lined with thicker construction paper. It looks a little like flags made of stained glass catching the sun.

Their hair hangs loose down their back, not wild but not so controlled as usual, and they glance back at him with gray eyes sparkling. "Do you like it?" They ask, and Jameson stands in the doorway, basking in the rainfall on his tongue, a sunshower, light through raindrops warm on his tongue now.

His eyes move over the little garland, and he gives a crooked smile. "It's all right," He says, after a second, and Allyn's smile widens. They know Jameson's praise when they hear it.

"I thought we should make our room more our own, anyway. Oh, laundry's done."

They move to him and Jameson's eyes follow them. He forgets for a second he should be putting it all away in the two dresser drawers he has all to himself in the big dresser he and Allyn share.

Allyn plucks the sweatshirt with the hood right off the top and pulls it to themself. Jameson's mouth goes dry as they bury their face in the fabric and breathe deep.

He has an image, a flash, hardly a second, of them burying their face into his neck just like that, biting deep until they draw blood, until he begs for it to stop-

And then it's gone. He forces it down as fast as he can, ignores the awkward pool of heat low in his stomach, not demanding attention, just... reminding him he could think about that, if he wanted.

He doesn't.

Not... not like that. That's trained in, it isn't his, it's not who he wants to be. Or maybe it is. He doesn't know, and he's terrified of the answer.

"Oh, it's still warm. I used to love when Rosemary would bring everything right from the dryer." Allyn sighs wistfully, and they look back to the window. Jameson looks at their profile, the upturned nose, the soft bow of their lips. "It's chilly in here, warm laundry feels lovely."

The rainfall is heavier, now, but the taste of rain no less welcome. He loves their voice.

"Well, put it on, then," He says, more roughly than he intends to speak, voice going husky and raw at the edges as he jerks into sudden motion, setting the laundry basket down on his bed. "Warm up."

"Are you sure?"

They say sure almost like shore, a hint of some accent from somewhere else. Their words all feel constructed to him, distinctly shaped, where his own run together, spoken too fast for spaces between.

"Yeah, go for it."

He busies himself putting the clothes away, one by one. His socks, his boxers, his pants, his shirts, his his his. All of it. No more days shivering and begging for a blanket, no more eyes that see every bloodied scratch, no more Brute or Robert laughing at him when his teeth chatter.

His clothes, his blankets, his bed, his life.

He sees the smudge of gray and red from the corner of his eyes as they dress, but he doesn't look. Not that they all aren't used to nakedness, numb to it, but here... they don't have to be.

So he tries, and it's weird, he tries to treat it as something that you decide to be and not just something you are made to be.

"So, what do you think?"

Jameson looks over, mouth open with a joke that dies on his tongue.

They smile at him, slightly shyly, their hair mussed up by pulling on the hoodie and a wild halo around their head, a waterfall of red around their shoulders. Their gray eyes match the sweatshirt exactly somehow. Or he just thinks they do.

It comes down to their thighs, just barely, and Jameson thinks about how it's look if they weren't wearing those pants and it was just three fucking miles of long long legs and above that-

He spins back around before his face can go red enough to give him away. "S'big on y-you."

"It's bigger on you," They respond, dropping to sit cross-legged on their bed, giggling a little. "You're shorter than me, aren't you?"

His mouth tastes like spring rain but he wants to taste blood, his own, he wants them to wear just that sweatshirt and drag their nails down his back and then make him lick the blood off their fingers one by one by one by one.

"Yeah, well." He swallows, again and again, looking down at the bed. He wants to crawl under it and hide until he doesn't feel the heat inside him any longer. He wants to curl up in the closet, and run his fingers over the letters he has carved into the wood in there. He needs to calm down. "You look... good. In it. Anyway."

"Well, thank you," They say, and there's a moment of silence, awkward on one side of the room and content on the other. "I'll go move my stuff into the dryer. Think about how else you want to decorate our room while I'm gone, okay?"

They're up and moving, out the door, and Jameson breathes out slowly, slowly, as he sits down and puts his head in his hands.

He'll-

He'll tell the therapist.

He has to.

I'm thinking good boy thoughts again. I'm wanting someone to hurt me. I want them to hurt me. I want them to. I'm thinking about it again.

Maybe the therapist, with her orange-burst voice, will tell him how to make it stop.

Secretly, he hopes she'll tell him it doesn't have to.

—

@astrobly @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @whump-tr0pes @raigash @moose-teeth @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @endless-whump @eatyourdamnpears @boxboysandotherwhump @vickytokio @outofangband @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @thehopelessopus @butwhatifyouwrite @yet-another-heathen

#jameson bb #allyn bb #whump #box boy #box boy universe #referenced past captivity #recovery whump #masochism tw #consensual masochism tw #just a daydream but still #like a hint of paprika spice #past noncon

[chaoticminhos]

drunken mistakes

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader

genre: smut

warnings: drunkish sex, friends to lovers, size/strength kink

words: 1.6k

a/n: for anon! i hope this fulfills what you had imagined, love!

you couldn’t form a proper sentence past the giggles leaving your mouth, and you’d honestly already forgot why you were laughing. maybe it wasn’t anything. you tended to think everything was hilarious once you’d had a drink or two.

hyunjin laughed right along with you, falling to lay on his back beside you on your small bed. you were squished between your best friend and the wall, but hey, that’s college living for you.

you propped yourself up on your arms and smiled down at the boy beside you. man, was he pretty. who allowed him to have such perfect eyes and plump lips and those cute dimples? you pouted, and he noticed. he laughed, slurring his words.

“why’re you pouting?”

“you’re prettier than me.”

the bed shook as he let out a loud laugh.

“yeah i am, huh?”

you grabbed the pillow from under his head and smacked him across the face with it, to which he obviously had to retaliate. he ripped the pillow from your hands, easily overpowering you and gaining control over the situation. he had your back against the mattress and arms pinned above you before you could even think of cussing him out.

you tried to glare up at him, but a smile found its way to your lips, and the smile turned into a laugh and before you knew it the two of you were back in a laughing fit.

hyunjin kept his body secure above yours and his hands pinning your wrists down as he laugh, leaning forward and burying his face between your shoulder and the pillow as he laughed. you felt his breath on your neck as he laughed, not even noticing when your breath locked in your throat at your current position and the feeling of his lips so close to your neck.

he raised his head, locking eyes with you, that big, gorgeous, stupid smile still on his face. god, he had perfect lips. you almost just wanted to kiss them.

so you did.

he pulled away the second he registered your lips on his, distancing his face from yours but remaining in his position atop you. his grip on your wrists loosened and he let out a nervous laugh.

“what was that?”

you shrugged your shoulders the best you could given your position, shifting your body uncomfortably under him. through your drunken haze, you could still tell that you fucked up.

he flinched slightly when you wiggled under him before crawling off of you and quickly sitting up and holding a pillow in his lap. it was a nervous habit he had, always needing something to play with.

he repeated himself in the same soft tone, this time laced with confusion instead of amusement.

“what was that?”

so he wouldn’t just settle for a shrug, huh?

“you have nice lips.”

he nodded slowly, silently asking you to continue. you stared at him for a moment. his hair was messy and his arms looked godly in the sleeveless shirt he was wearing. you couldn’t deny that you had one hell of a looker for a best friend, and you’d be lying if you hadn’t thought about doing some... more than friendly things with him. but you wouldn’t ever, because he was your best friend. wouldn’t ever sober, that is. now was completely different.

ah, fuck it.

“we should have sex.”

he opened and closed his mouth a few times, but no words came out. you hadn’t expected him to give in and agree right away, but you pouted anyway.

“come on, jinnie,” you scooted closer to him, hand reaching for the pillow in his lap and tossing it away from him. he immediately jumped to cover his crotch with his hands. he had an obvious and growing problem.

you smiled. you’d be getting what you wanted in no time. this was turning out to be way easier than your 5 seconds of less than sober calculating had predicted. or so you thought.

you reached to remove his hands from his lap, but you were stopped by him grabbing your wrists and returning you to your previous position under him with your hands pinned above you, his timid demeanor long forgotten.

“y/n, we’re drunk-“

you cut him off with a whine, “no, m just a little tipsy! what do you want? you want me to beg? i’ll beg. jinnie, please please please fuck me. everything about you is so pretty, your lips and your cheeks, your hands. just wanna feel your pretty cock in me, just this once, please.”

he snickered, causing you to frown.

“you’re that needy?”

unfazed by his teasing, you continued.

“hyunjin please, i just wanna feel you inside of me.”

he laughed again, but you could feel how turned on he was.

“i never took you for one to beg, y/n.”

you whined again, trying to free your hands from his grip, but you had no luck. you were no match for his full body weight. honestly, you knew he could probably pin you down with less than half of the strength he was using now.

you opened your mouth to plea again only to be shut up by hyunjin crashing his lips to your own. he wasted no time deepening the kiss, biting your bottom lip as a request for entrance. you’d normally tease him, but you had your mind on one thing: getting his dick in you as quickly as possible.

he pressed his body further against you as he moved his lips to your neck, tongue exploring the skin and hunting for a sweet spot. it didn’t take long before he was biting down and sucking harshly onto a particular spot on your neck, causing you to moan out.

with his body pressed flush against you, you could feel just how turned on he was. and to be honest, having his hard cock pressed into your thigh didn’t do anything to calm you down, either.

“hyunjin, can you please fuck me already?”

he chuckled against the skin of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. he removed himself from you and rid himself of his shirt, followed by the rest of his clothes. you got the hint and followed his actions.

once again he had your back pressed to your mattress, caging you between it and his bare body. he attached his lips to yours once more as he brought a hand to your core, slipping two fingers in with ease.

he smiled as you moaned into the kiss, involuntarily bucking your hips to meet his movements. he pulled his fingers from your heat and brought them to your lips. you opened your mouth, allowing him to slip his fingers down your throat. you struggled not to gag as tears pricked in your eyes.

he hummed, “what a good girl, taking my fingers so well in both her holes.”

he took his fingers from your mouth and ran them over his dick, spreading a mix of his and your juices and your spit along his length before slowly pushing into you.

both of you moaned at the feeling. you couldn’t help yourself from moving as he picked up his pace and pleasure overtook you, but he didn’t appreciate your movements messing up his rhythm.

he gripped your hips hard enough you were sure there would be bruises later to remind you for the future to hold still. effectively stilling your movements, hyunjin continued his assault to your walls, finding your g-spot in record time and building up a knot in your stomach tighter than you’d ever felt before.

“god, you take my cock so well, why haven’t we done this before?”

you didn’t reply and he didn’t expect you to.

“you’re so small, fuck, how do you take me this easily?”

he brought a hand to your core and rubbed harsh circles to your clit while continuing his thrusts into your walls, and you came undone in his hands.

the way you felt around him and the chorus of his name coming from your mouth threw him over the edge along with you. he pulled out, stroking himself a few times as he released himself onto your stomach.

when finished, he ran a finger through the mess he made across your stomach, scooping some up and bringing it to your lips. just as before, you obediently opened your mouth and sucked his fingers clean, moaning at the taste.

he reached to the floor and picked up the shirt you had been wearing and wiped himself off of your stomach the best he could before crumpling the shirt up and tossing it into your laundry basket.

“hey!” you whined, “why’d you use my shirt, dickhead, it’s your mess?”

“you’re the one who seduced me. plus, this is your house, you can just get another shirt. i only have the one here.”

“bullshit.”

you had at least half a dozen of his shirts around your apartment. he was your best friend and he stayed over practically every weekend.

he gave himself a minute to catch his breath before standing and reaching out his hand for you. you took it, standing and following him to the bathroom where he started your shower running and lead you into it.

surprisingly, taking a shower with hyunjin didn’t feel weird. to be fair, you had his dick in you minutes earlier and that really didn’t feel weird either.

you let him spread soap across your shoulders and stomach, cleaning off the mess he’d made along with the scent of alcohol from your body. you watched as he intently took care of you and a smile found its way to your lips.

maybe drunken mistakes weren’t so bad after all.

#stray kids #skz #hwang hyunjin #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz blurbs #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids blurbs #hwang hyunjin blurbs #hwang hyunjin scenarios #hwang hyunjin imagines #skz smut #stray kids smut #hwang hyunjin smut #kpop #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #hwang hyunjin fluff #hyunjin smut

[all-might-can-smash-me]

Homestay

You are on Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Taishiro Toyomitsu / Fatgum x Reader

Summary: it was recommended that the people involved in the huge incident be sent off to the country side to heal and recover from injuries. Fatgum, Red Riot, and Suneater find themselves in a nice home, living the simple life and enjoying their chores, but Taishiro can’t help but let his heart flutter upon getting to know the host

Got the idea after watching My Neighbor Totoro also phone fucked up Fatgum’s name but I’m too lazily to scour the one shot to fix it

Masterlist

“Hurry up boys and stop lagging behind!” Called out Taishiro as he paused his steps upon the dirt, gravel road that he happily hiked along. Though Kirishima and Amajiki lugged behind, suitcases in their hands hanging low as they heads hung back or low as the summer sun shown down upon them.

“Why couldn’t they drop us off at the place? This is a little...much...” Tamaki muttered out as he soon went to smack a mosquito that dared to try and bite his arm. Kirishima made a sound of agreement as he looked to the ricefields surrounding them that stretched on for miles and miles before looking back to the pro hero who was a few paces ahead of them.

“Drop us off at the place? You crazy? The little car that they were driving would have never made it down this road.” Taishiro said with a loud laugh as he slowed down to now be walking between the boys. “Guys, we aren’t in the city anymore...” He teased a bit as he nudged both of them with his elbows. “It’s fun though! Look how nice everything is! Farm land, trees out that way, little tiny shrines....” he said with a sigh, though he was soon smacking away a mosquito as well. “Well...those things aren’t great, but what would you expect next to so much water and moister?” He said as he motioned to the flooded rice fields that seemed to stretch on forever.

“Why are we here again?” Kirishima asked honestly as he looked up to the pro hero, his own hand swatting away one of those brave pesky mosquitoes, though they had no match for his hand that crushed it. “It’s kind of REALLY out of the way, honestly...” he mumbled out as shrugged his shoulders.

“It was recommended that we hunker down for the next week to rebuild, rest, and heal until they pick us up Sunday morning” Taishiro said confidently, casting glances to the two teens. “Which we desperately need after our last mission. It’s also better to do it in locations like these, it’s less likely. The others involved were scattered to different areas like these for the same reason.” Taishiro said, pausing to look at an old road sign, setting down his suit case to tug his phone out his pocket, reading the directions that were given to him before picking up his suit case again to turn down onto a small dirt road, tall grass swaying happily along side it.

“But I’m ready to go back to just...doing what I got to do!” Kirishima protested as he followed alongside the pro hero, Amajiki silently following on the opposite side. Taishiro only rolled his eyes with a snort.

“I’m sure you are, but as a hero, it is best to make sure and be sure that we are fit! If we don’t, it can only lead to further and or worsening of our injuries and can cause even bigger problems.” Tiashiro pointed out, which then it wasn’t surprising that Kirishima was soon agreeing with him. Though there appeared a house. The doors were slide open for the summer breeze to come in which also allowed the three to be able to peer in just a tiny bit. A women was soon hurriedly shoving her shoes on before making her way outside, already beginning to met the three.

“Hey! You must be...Red Riot?” You asked as you hugged Kirishima excitedly. “And you....Suneater!” You said with a laugh as another hug was giving, Amajiki was quite taken aback by it and was left a blushing mess. “And you are-“ though you were cut off by his words.

“Fatgum, nice to meet you.” He spoke out with a grin before excepting your hug as a greeting. It was nice, he had to admit, but you pulled away, already beckoning the three over to follow.

“It’s nice to finally have some people over to stay! It’s been awhile since I had any home stay guest! Never heroes either” you said with a laugh as stepped through the open doors, shoes slid off along with the other three. “Though I’ll go over the simple rules I have and where you will be staying, now follow me.” You said with a grin as you soon walked deeper into the home, now sliding a door open, revealing a room. “This will be your room, but if you find it too hot, I can set up futons and mosquito nets on the back porch area so you can get a breeze.” You said as you motioned for where they could set their suitcases down. You were soon moving again though, now stepping down a step or two into the kitchen area. “Of course, kitchen, dining room is that last room we past up, but here is the bath room.” You said as you shoved open a wooden door, pointing to the shower and then to the tub. “This house is really...outdated, sorry.” You said with a giggle. “Restroom is back in the main house across from your room.”

“It’s fine, I kind of really like it.” Taishiro spoke up with a grin. “It’s like getting blasted back into a studio Ghibli movie, right guys?” Tiashiro said as he looked down to the two teens who vigorously nodded their heads to the statement as they admired the home around them.

“Awe..thanks..” you said with a little laugh as you closed the bathing room’s door, now pushing another door that lead to outside. “Now the agreement I made was that you could stay here under the condition that you would help out a bit.” You said as you looked over your shoulders as you lead them out. “I need someone to pick the eggs in the morning and feed them, then feed them again at lunch, then again in the evening and then check for eggs again.” You explained as you you stopped, pointing to a chicken coop up ahead. “Then my little garden over there, I need someone to pick what’s ripe in the morning before the sun has a chance to kill it and then water it in the evening.” Your hand was soon pointing to the little garden in question. “Then of course when I do laundry someone we’ll need to hang it up on the clothes line, just leave your dirty clothes in the baskets I have set in the bathing room for you, and then washing dishes after each meal. You can help cook too, but I won’t really nag the three of you for that.” You said with a giggle as you turned to now face the three. “Deal?”

“Deal!” The three of them said with curt nods of their heads. Boy was it nice. Tiashiro was enjoying it, probably way too much. Lounging about on the ground in the large main room as the breeze blew in was nice. It was nice too that Amajiki was even sprawled about, Kirishima as well with his earbuds in listening to music. Though the two teens disappeared as the evening rolled in, going to check on the chickens and water the small garden. Tiashiro on the other hand, found himself in the kitchen, watching you waltz about to prepare things.

“Can I help?” He asked, you nodding your head as you motioned him forward. He did, now at a cutting board and cutting the vegetables you had placed before him, you at the stove, meet sizzling away in a pan. “Do you get a lot of people here?” Taishiro asked with a raise of his brow, glancing to you.

“No, but then yes? I get people who stay, but they stay for months, maybe even as long as a year, or then maybe a couple of weeks are two...” you said with a little smile, looking over and to him, though the look and the soft smile on your face made a blush crawl to your cheeks that made you quickly move away. “This must be totally different from the live that you three are use to.” You teased as you cracked an egg skillfully, shell tossed aside in a bucket.

“It is very different, but it’s a nice change, you know? No rushing, no noise, just a nice calm, which is awesome to experience after the chaos of the city.” He said as he soon handed the cutting board to you, you now making use with the cut vegetables, him now leaning against the counter as he watched you.

“Well I’m glad that you are already enjoying your time here.” The cooked dishes were now already being placed onto plates carefully, you handing them off to him. “Set this down on the dinner table please? I’ll be right behind you to set the table.” You said, the hero giving a nod of his head as he carefully the food from you, now in the dining room to set down the plates in the middle of the table, you setting down the plates and chopstick.

“Whoa...something seriously smells good!” Kirishima spoke out from the doorway of the dining room, Amajiki peeking in from behind him. “And your chickens? Those things are deadly!” Kirishima said with wide eyes, you motioning the two to come in and sit down. “They could have pecked my eyes out! But of course...I’m so manly...” he spoke out as he sat down.

“He ran away...” Amajiki softly spoke out, Taishiro letting out a little snort as saw Kirishima glare at Tamaki at exposing him, the four of them already beginning to eat. “I thought they were nice...” he added quietly, now silence by the food he placed into his mouth.

“Oh my gosh....” Tiashiro mumbled out as he ate, eyes wide as he looked up to look over at you. “This is good!” He shouted up excitedly as he continued to eat. You of course gave a soft giggle and a blush as you glanced over and to him.

“Yeah, when he says he likes your food, he means it.” Kirishima mumbled to you from beside you with a laugh, Taishiro giving him a playful glare.

“Well it was mentioned to me that you rely on food for your quirk, so I made sure to make plenty and to also keep a lot of snacks on hand. Also, cooking is a skill that I needed to master with having people stay and what not.” You said with a little giggle. The laughter and conversation was nice, but soon came to an end when the food had come to an end and Amajiki and Kirishima gathered the empty plates to haul to the kitchen to wash them, you standing off to the side to help dry and place away the dishes as Taishiro had took his chance to get clean up, but there was a problem....he was stumped as he looked to the bathtub, not really knowing how to work the spouts.

“Shit...” he muttered out as he wrapped a towel around his hips, pushing open the door to poke his head up, a sheepish grin plastered onto his mouth. “Hey...um....I kind of need help...” he spoke up, you tossing aside the towel in your hand.

“Shoot, I’m sorry, that’s what I forgot to go over” you said as you stepped into the bathroom, closing the door. Though you cleared your throat and quickly looked away upon seeing the man wrapped up with just the towel, his muscles now on full display to your eyes. “This knob is hot water and this is cold.” You said as you pointed to the rusting handles, now trying to pull the one for the hot water. “Sometimes it gets stuck...” you groaned out, Tiashiro’s hands now now coming out from either side of you to grab hold along with you, the knob now groaning as it was turned, water now beginning to pour out and into the tub. “Thanks..” you said with a little laugh, though was soon left blushing upon turning around, now coming face to face with his chest, but he only back up with an apology, you now hurrying out of the bathroom.

“Hey...you think we can get those mosquito nets and futons set up?” Kirishima asked, you nodded your head to his question.

“Of course! Come on.” You said as you motioned for them to follow, already motioning to grab the futons that were settled away in a closet in their room, soon grabbing the nets and leading them out to the back porch area, nets now carefully being hung up by your, helping Kirishima and Amajiki set out the futons.

“Oh this is so cool!” Kirishima gushed out as he let himself sprawl out on his futon once it fixed, Amajiki soon lowering himself down onto his own. “It’s like we’re camping! But nicer...” He spoke excitedly to Amajiki, who of course only nodded his head, you laughing as you stepped out from the net, closing it carefully behind you.

“Well I’m glad you boys are enjoying it, this would be my favorite thing to do as a kid! So I would hate it when the winter months would come.” You spoke with a little laugh as you were now heading back into the house, but of course, you almost embarrassingly ran into Taishiro, his hair still damp from his bath.

“Awesome! Fatgum is out!” Kirishima said as he was already out from the mosquito net, slipping past you and him and soon running to their bedroom until running out with clothes in tow, bathroom door already slamming shut. Tiashiro only laughed as he and you managed to shuffled past each other, he already making his way into the mosquito net and laying upon his futon that the two others had set up for him.

From then on....you found yourself casting little glances to the pro hero...but little do you know that he was just as crush stricken as you were. Watching you laugh along with the two teens as you helped them water the garden and tend to the chickens. Watching you show him how to check what was ripe or not was just.....embarrassingly hot? It just made him adore you that you just knew how to do it? Also he loved to make you laugh as he would help you hung the laundry to dry too. And he loved cooking with you. He would drop a flirt here and there too and that blush upon your face that would follow would just....send his heart fluttering.

“Let me get this, you can’t even reach.” He teased as he grabbed the sheet from you, tossing it over the clothes line, which you only giggle and rolled your eyes, pinning down the sheet after he did so.

“You didn’t even give me a chance to prove myself!” You accused, shaking your head as you looked up at him, but that look he gave you made your heart stop, breath being stolen from your lungs. The both of you had begun to gravitate towards each other, lips brushing up against each other....until the two of you quickly pulled away as the sheet had begun to be moved around.

“Oooh! Spooky! Did I scare you?” Kirishima childishly laughed as he lifted the sheet to reveal his grinning face, though it fell as he looked to Fatgum’s face that looked disappointed to almost....annoyed? Angry? “What?” Kirishima dumbly asked, now looking to you who only looked off to the side to hide your blushing face.

“Red Riot...you are in your first year of high school....” Taishiro commented as he looked down to the teen, though you only gave him a nudge in his side, you seeming to recover from your embarrassment as you grabbed a sheet, tossing it over Tiashiro’s head with a giggle.

“Oh...now that is spooky!” You commented as Tiashiro only huffed, lifting the sheet from his head to see you and Kirishima laughing away, which meant that Taishiro was soon laughing away along with y’all, he continuing to hung up the clothes to dry.

Though when night had come along and Kirishima and Amajiki had now fallen asleep and snores away, he tossed the blankets off of himself before getting up, walking past the flaps for the net, closing them carefully before making his way into the house, already slowly making his way to a door with a pounding heart, his hands sliding it open. You carefully leaned yourself up, heart pounding as you saw Tiashiro standing at the threshold of your room, giving him a nod of permission, which he now then stepped into your room, slid shut as he made his way to your futon, you now moving over to let him join you, both of your hands nervous with jitters from the intimate encounter.

That’s how the rest of the nights were spent, giggling away quietly in your room once the two boys would fall asleep in their deep slumbers from their day of chores and fun. Though the last night was here, Taishiro now playing with your hair as you rested your head upon his bare chest, eyes closed gently from the gently touches upon your hair.

“I’m gonna miss you...” you whsipered out as you soon moved your head to look up at him, pressing gentle kisses along his jaw and chin, he sighing in content as he caressed the side of your face.

“You have my number, so call me anytime you get lonely...” he whispered out before pressing all gentle kiss upon the top of your nose. “And then I’ll came to visit you....and then maybe you can come and visit me? See my agency...?” He asked hopefully, you nodding your head with a grin upon your lips.

“Most definitely so I can cook for you...” you teased, Taishiro smothering your face now with kisses.

“Please....I love your cooking....”

#fatgum x oc #fatgum x you #fatgum x reader #fatgum imagine #fatgum headcanons #toyomitsu taishiro x reader #taishiro toyomitsu x reader #taishiro x reader #toyomitsu taishiro #taishiro toyomitsu #bnha fatgum #mha fatgum #bnha taishiro #mha taishiro #Fatgum #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #mha #my hero academy fanfiction #bnha headcanons #bnha x reader #bnha oneshots

[mamaspresley]

restore the feeling | rafe cameron

a/n: so i watched “big time adolescence” last night because i’m a whore for pete davidson and honestly i don’t know how tf that inspired this but here you go

word count: 3.1k+

pairing(s): rafe x reader

warning(s): mentions of cheating, angst, a break up, post-sarah’s death but let’s pretend rafe isn’t a murder, some smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it)

“just go back inside, rafe!”

“what did i do? tell me, y/n!” rafe was yelling as loud as you’d ever heard him yell, throwing his hands in the air as he stared back at you. he had his eyebrows raised, looking on at you like he was expecting you to apologize for his actions. “fucking tell me!”

“friday night, kelce’s house. does that ring any bells, rafe?”

the boy scoffed, giving a laugh of incredulity before shaking his head. he brought his hands to tug at his hair as he had mumbled, “you gotta be fucking kidding me.” rafe looked up at you, his bloodshot eyes meeting yours. “did topper tell you?”

“it doesn’t matter if topper told me,” you spat, crossing your arms over your chest. “what matters is that you’re throwing this two year relationship out the window for some quick fuck the one night i couldn’t make it to one of your dumb parties.”

“i didn’t fuck her!” he cried, widening his eyes, and if it weren’t for the fact that you’d seen him do a line only minutes earlier you would’ve sworn your boyfriend was crying due to the red rims of his irises. “who are you gonna believe? your boyfriend of two years, or topper, some guy that you’ve never even liked and only talk to because he’s my friend?”

“right now i’m opting for the last one.”

“you can’t be serious.” rafe let out another laugh, shaking his head as he dropped a hand to his hip, the other pulling at the end of his hair. he took a few steps back, breathing heavily before raising his gaze to the night sky, scoffing. “i can’t do anything right for you,” he said, looking back at you, “can i?”

furrowing your eyebrows, confused as to where the conversation was headed, you asked, “what?”

“you’re never fucking satisfied, are you y/n?” rafe stared at you with expectancy, waiting for you to answer. when you didn’t, rafe gave another sarcastic laugh and continued. “you want the perfect boyfriend, the perfect life. and you got that for a while, but as soon as one little thing falls out of line or there’s some sort of minor inconvenience, you get scared and chicken out.”

softly, ignoring the boy’s claims, you shook your head and mumbled, “you cheated on me, rafe.”

“yeah, i did, y/n!” he’d screamed, and the sudden outburst made you take a singular step back. rafe’s face was beet red, hands shaking as he clenched them into fists at his sides. “i fucked her, is that what you want to hear? i fucked her because while you were off throwing a fucking pity party, i was dealing with the death of my sister. and i’m sorry that i did it but fuck, you didn’t give a shit about me! i needed you, y/n! my sister died and you decided you didn’t want the extra stress of comforting me, so i fucked her. and i’m sorry. but what the fuck else was i supposed to do?”

you had fallen silent from the moment he began speaking, and you didn’t speak a word until he had given up and was retreating back inside. before he could get more than ten feet away, you shouted, “so we’re done then?”

rafe paused, his body going rigid at your words. he hated to admit it, you knew he did because so did you, but he knew that you’d been done long before that night. for three weeks, your relationship had been over, but neither of you wanted to say it.

and now he had the chance. so he took it.

“yeah.” the words fell past his lips way easier than either of you expected them to. “i guess we’re done.”

***

it was when you rolled over and grabbed your phone off your nightstand, seeing the lack of a good morning text, that you realized this was real. this was actually happening. for the first time in two years, you weren’t rafe’s girlfriend, and you didn’t know what to do.

getting up and ready for the day was probably a good start. after showering and eating breakfast, you got changed, only to realize that the sweater you wanted to wear wasn’t in your closet. or the dirty laundry basket. it was at rafe’s, where most of your belongings were, as well, seeing as you practically lived at your boyfriend’s for the past year — save for the last three weeks.

you felt empty as you brushed your teeth, as you washed your hair and as you poured your cereal. there was a hole in your heart that you knew could only be filled by a certain person, the same person who took residence in your thoughts and who you impatiently awaited a text from all day. it wasn’t for a few more days — four, to be specific — that your phone gave off the long awaited buzz of a text message from him. you had practically lunged at the device once you heard his customized vibration echo off the glass coffee table, and you opened the text immediately.

rafe: you want ur shit or ???

you had frowned, reading the message. it’s not like you expected anything else, really, but the words stung as you read them over and over. did he seriously want you gone that bad? you knew that his hoodie accompanying your closet didn’t bother you too much, but maybe he didn’t feel the same way. or maybe you were reading too much into it — but how could you not? he’d been your world for the past two years, and for it all to change so suddenly, you’d be crazy not to be a little heartbroken over his lack of empathy. your shit. he wasn’t even referring to your things with respect. shit. maybe he didn’t care after all.

you: when can i come by and grab it?

your hands shook as you drove the familiar road to his house. fingers gripped tightly around the steering wheel, so tight your knuckles were white by the time you pulled into his driveway. a shaky breath left your parted lips when you put your car in park, and when you made the walk up to his front door. your knuckles ached as you rapped on the door, and you released and squeezed your fingers in both hands before the door swung open.

he looked fine. same slicked back hair, same dull expression with the slightly raised eyebrows, same hoodie and shorts with the sneakers that he bounced on the toes of when he became uncomfortable — which was as soon as he laid eyes on you. because you did not look fine. you looked like shit, and he knew you felt it, too. you were just worse at hiding it.

“hey.” you don’t know why, but when he muttered the singular word, you had the overwhelming urge to punch him straight in the jaw. how could he just say ‘hey’ like everything was okay?

“hi,” you answered through gritted teeth. you watched as rafe swallowed thickly, his adam’s apple bobbing as he chewed on his lower lip. the boy opened the door wider for you and you stepped inside, ignoring the tears pricking at your eyes when they landed on the portrait hanging from the wall to your left.

“upstairs,” he mumbled, a weak attempt to drag your attention away from the picture, but it worked quite well as you followed him up the spiral staircase. the longer you’d look at that picture, the last family photo they all had together, you knew you were closer and closer to tears. and breaking down in the middle of your ex boyfriend’s house, your sobs inevitably echoing off the walls of the foyer for the rest of the family to hear, was not something you wanted to do at that moment.

“i put your things in a bag,” rafe mumbled, nodding to the old duffel bag sitting in the middle of his floor. it was his old soccer one, his last name and number written on the side. rafe’s bedroom was messy, like it always had been, but it was different this time. like he had purposely avoided cleaning, like he wanted it to be a mess. like he had taken clothes out just to throw them on the floor. you didn’t say anything, just grabbed the duffel bag in silence and slipped it over your shoulder.

“thanks.”

“i’m not sorry, you know,” rafe blurted. you weren’t moving, but if you were, you were sure you’d have stopped in your tracks. his confession was… out of the blue, unprovoked, and it had you catching your breath in your throat as you looked up at him. “like, i am. for sleeping with her. but… you fucked up, too. and i have to tell myself i wasn’t the only reason we broke up. and i realized that—that i want you to know that, too. i needed you to hear me say that.”

you weren’t sure what to say. you’d spent the last four days reflecting, arguing with yourself about the whole situation. what had really happened that night at the party? you’d never know because you weren’t there, but that was really what this whole thing was about. you weren’t there. rafe made an excellent point, which is why you nodded and said, “i know,” because you did know. you knew that part of this was your fault, that you weren’t there for rafe from the moment you’d heard the news of sarah’s wreck because you were too busy mourning yourself. and sure, you had a right to feel grief because you knew the girl, but not nearly as well as rafe did. he’d lost his sister, and you were selfish in the fact that you didn’t even bother to check up on him. you’d gone three whole weeks without speaking to your boyfriend, the hardest three weeks of his life not to mention, so it could be argued that you were the one to blame.

“wait— what do you mean, you know?” rafe’s worrisome tone had you snapping back to reality as you met his glossy eyes. don’t start crying. you hated seeing rafe cry—it made you cry and that was the last thing you wanted right now.

“i’m sorry i fucked up.” your eyes met rafe’s, the unfamiliar white of his eyes contrasting against the usual red of them, and it felt strange but your lips curled into a small, comforting smile. “i love you, rafe.”

“i love you too,” he mumbled, the crease in his eyebrows becoming evident as his gaze dropped to his feet.

the sound of the duffel bag falling to the floor had rafe lifting his eyes back up to yours, and he watched, motionless, as you took a few steps towards the boy before throwing your arms around his neck. he didn’t move, in fact he stood completely frozen, as you buried your face in his neck. it wasn’t until he felt your arms slowly give way that he wrapped his own around your waist, and then you tightened your hold on him reassuringly.

“i’m sorry i wasn’t there for you,” you found yourself whispering as you rested your chin on his shoulder, eyes closed as you felt him hold you securely in a hug that would never fail to give you butterflies.

rafe breathed in through his nose before letting his lips fall over the shell of your ear, whispering, “it’s okay. i just… needed you.”

“i’m here now.”

“i know you are.” one of rafe’s hands slid up your back, finding the back of your neck as you stood down from your tiptoes, letting your hands fall to rest on his shoulders. he stroked your cheek with his thumb lightly, his beautiful blue eyes studying your face. after a moment of drinking you in, rafe leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips — one that you accepted graciously — and then pulled away.

“tell me what you need. time? space?” your hands slid up to the sides of his face, cupping him gently as you darted your eyes between each of his. rafe looked at you, standing up straight and dropping his hands to your waist.

“you already gave me enough time,” he whispered, licking his lips as he furrowed his eyebrows. “i don’t think that would do us any good.”

“tell me what you need, baby.”

“you,” he mumbled, lifting his gaze to meet yours once again, and you nodded before standing on your toes and connecting your lips. rafe, wrapping his arms to fit so perfectly around your waist, deepened the kiss, sucking on your bottom lip before darting his tongue out to run along it. you granted him access, parting your lips as rafe slowly began to walk you backwards until you fell onto his mattress. “i need you so bad, y/n.”

rafe didn’t give you any time to respond, instead pulling your shorts and panties down, along with his own boxers, and sinking into you. the sudden contact, one that you’d been undeniably missing for weeks now, had your stomach in knots and your head falling back.

“fuck,” you gasped, feeling his thick cock fill you up, and you made a mental note to curse the boy later for not working you up beforehand — you could barely fit him anyways, but without foreplay it was a different level of uncomfortable.

“holy shit, you’re so tight.” rafe let out a low groan, squeezing his eyes shut and dropping his jaw when he bottomed out, and your nails found home in the skin of his back, underneath his shirt, before scraping down it.

thankfully you quickly became used to his size, and not even a minute had passed before you were close to your orgasm. the lack of sexual contact and the ever growing frustration pent up inside you must’ve really taken a toll — it was the same with rafe, his dick was throbbing, the coil wound tight in his abdomen, ready to snap.

“baby i’m gonna cum,” he said in a string of words, almost incoherently as he moaned, snapping his hips back before burying deeper inside you. “baby, baby please. holy shit.”

one last thrust into you and you were seeing stars, your walls squeezing around him, and rafe pulled out of you quickly before wrapping a hand around his dick and pumping it at a fast pace. his cum shot all over your hoodie and his bedsheets, warm and sticky and inevitably difficult to get out of the fabric, but that was the least of rafe’s problems. you watched as he came, his lips parting and eyes rolling to the back of his head while his hips stuttered. the moans that left his lips were whiny, almost whimpers as he mumbled your name a few times before catching his breath.

once you were both down from your highs, rafe helped pull your bottoms up along with his before standing up and running a hand through his hair. you sat on the edge of his bed and stripped from your hoodie, which was covered in rafe’s cum, and looked up at him. he was out of breath, chest rising and falling heavily and his face was flushed pink. rafe licked his lips, glancing up at you as you stated, “i forgot how much i love it when you cum.”

at your surprising words, rafe raised his eyebrows before laughing a little, one hand on the back of his neck with the other on his hip. neither of you said anything for a while, just stared at each other, before you cleared your throat and stood up, tossing your hoodie in his basket of laundry.

“take one of mine,” he mumbled, nodding to his closet and you made your way over, leafing through the hoodies before finding a particular one, one that you’d been searching for just the other day.

turning around with your favourite sweater in hand, you looked at rafe with a smile and said, “you kept my hoodie?”

rafe became nervous, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink and his body going rigid as he scoffed, shaking his head. “no. i just, uh, forgot to put it in the bag. you can take that one back. i, um—”

you hung it back up in the closet and took a different one, this one actually being rafe’s, and slipped it over your head. “i think i’ll take this one.” you lifted your hair from out of it, smiling up at him as you adjusted the sleeves.

“always look so good in my clothes,” he mumbled, his eyes graciously dancing over your body. when he met your eyes, which were squinted from the wide smile you sported, rafe let out a sigh. “i’m sorry.”

you nodded, still keeping the smile on your lips. “me too, baby.”

you were halfway down the stairs, the handle of rafe’s old soccer bag hanging from your shoulder, when you heard your name being called. at first you thought it could be rafe again, emerging from his bedroom after he’d previously just told you that he’d call you tomorrow. but it wasn’t rafe, it was wheezie, and she was offering you a smile as she closed her bedroom door and made her way to you.

“hey,” you said, almost as softly as the smile you gave the girl when she made it to the landing of the stairs, where you stood. “how are you doing, little one?”

instead of answering, wheezie threw her arms around you. she held onto you in a tightening hug, like she was afraid to let go, and you had no choice but to return it. you wanted to. you loved wheezie more than life itself.

“i’m sorry,” wheezie mumbled, and you almost wondered if you’d heard her right, before she pulled away to look at you with sympathetic eyes. “i don’t know what he did but you put up with a lot of the things he does so it must be pretty bad.”

you shrugged, leaning one hand back on the railing to steady yourself. “your brother... he messed up. but so did i. relationships are complicated, wheeze. don’t do it.”

the thirteen year old laughed. “rafe is stupid and you deserve better. but i’m a little bit selfish because i’m really glad you settled for him.”

smiling, you raised a hand to cup the younger girl’s cheek. “thanks, wheezie,” you whispered the next part, “i’m not leaving for good. you know your brother can’t survive without me for long.”

“i’ll be surprised if he makes it till you get to your car,” she mumbled, and you let out a giggle as you gave the girl who you called family another hug. as you placed a kiss to the top of her head, wheezie squeezed you tight. “i love you, y/n.”

“i love you too, little one.” you pulled away, looking down at her with raised eyebrows. “keep an eye on him for me.”

she nodded and that was all you needed before walking down the rest of the stairs and heading out to your car. once you got in, throwing the bag in the back and fastening your seatbelt, you glanced back up at the familiar house.

just like you told wheezie — you weren’t leaving for good. you both just needed to figure some things out.

***

tags: @outrbank @starkeymarkey @everydayimfangirling @maaybanks @dontjinx-it @rudys-pankow @ilovejjmaybank @thelocalpogue @popcsheyward @heimdoodle @yelyahryan @trashmouthpogues @teenwaywardasgardian @beckester @hopelesswritingxd @vindictive-hearts @majoroof @write-from-the-heart @oxmaddy @curlybrownhairedboys @mcarignan @bxmaaa @hoewkeye @alwaysasadaesthetic @thatshiscigar @drewstarkeyobx @fanficscuziranout @koufaxx @beatement-l @copper-boom @fangirlvoice @sunwardsss @peachesnpisces @sydneyf1231 @obxjj @angvelics @lovingxjj @decap-quadrant @jayjaymaebank @maybankiara @starlightstarkey @dannii-li @stargazingstarkey @drewsephsmiles @jjbabyouterbanks @digniteas @alexandra8484 @wonderwoman292 @aheadfullofskies

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #drew starkey #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey smut #drew starkey x reader #obx #outer banks #obx imagine #obx smut #outer banks imagine #outer banks smut #by calumbroutledge

[hanniiesuckle17]

Stray Kids Reaction: Asking to Borrow S/o's Razor/ Wax

A/n: so this came from the revelation that stray kids probably freaking shave and wax their armpits. BC LIKE OMG THEYVE B EEN WEARING TANK TOPS RECENTLY and like idek man like i was just like its so smooth that cant be natural

Tagging: @distrikt9​ @mini-meanhoe​(if you want to be added to the tag list just comment or reblog! <3)

Warnings: probably some cursing

Bangchan:

“AAAAAHH NO!!!” 

Hearing your boyfriend’s scream you raced to the bathroom door and knocked. This would not have been the first time Chan had fallen asleep in the shower and slipped. “Chan! You okay, love?” You asked, knuckled wrapping against the door. 

“Uhhhh....one sec, Y/n.” 

You waited patiently in the hall before Chan told you to come in. The shower had been turned off and Chan stood in the shorts he was wearing earlier and his hair hung in wet strands in front of his face. “You okay?” You asked eyeing him for injuries. Then your gaze fell upon the little pink razor that lay in two parts in Chan’s hand. Your boyfriend looked from you to the shaving utensil cutely.

“I think I broke it.” He mumbled.

Your heart fluttered seeing his adorable face looking down at the tiny pastel broken razor in his big hands. “Yeah, I think you did, babe.” You did your best not to laugh when he tossed the snapped razor onto the counter. You watched him reach under the sink and pull out a clear bag full of little pink razors. The kind you used to use in middle school. “Oh my gosh, Chan you aren’t using those are you?” 

He blushed seeing you laugh at the bag. “Yeah...why?” 

“Awww baby.” You kissed his cheek and took the bag and tossed it in the trash. Your boyfriend watched you open a drawer and pull out one of the extra razors you had lying around. “Here use this. I’ll go buy you an actual razor this weekend.” His dimples made an appearance as I handed him the metal razor. 

“Thank you, Y/n.” He said kissing your forehead.

Minho:

“Y/n?” Your boyfriend called out into the apartment. “Y/n!” 

You sighed and got up from your comfy place on the couch. “What, Minho?” One of the cats brushed up against your leg as you walked into your shared bedroom. “I thought you were gonna take a shower?” Minho lay face down on the bed, like the drama queen he was. 

“I can find my mppphrhp.”

“You’re what?”

“My mmrmpr.”

“Babe, take your head out of the pillow.” Minho dejectedly rolled over and stared at the ceiling. He didn’t even move when Doori hopped onto the bed and snuggled into his chest. 

“My razor. I can’t find my razor. My stylist called and told me she has me in a cutoff tee tomorrow and I haven’t shaved since before the comeback.” Knowing Minho, he probably left it out on the last tour or something and one of the boys swiped it. They were always ‘borrowing’ things from each other and never giving it back.

“Hold on. I’ve got an idea.” You said turning on the light to the adjoining bathroom. “Are you too upset to take off your shirt?” The only answer you received was a grumble from Minho and the sound of fabric rustling. You came back into the room with a box of wax strips. 

Minho raised his head, hearing the box open and he shot up from the bed fear in his eyes. “Hey...back off.” He tried to laugh off the nervousness as I approached him with a wax strip in hand. “Y/n, you know I love you right?” He said holding a hand out so you kept your distance.

“Come on, Minho. It will only hurt like.....a lot.”

He sprinted out of the room only to trip over a cat, giving you a chance to tackle him and apply a strip to his underarm. “Y/N! NO- OWWWWWWWW YOU ASSHOLE!”

Changbin:

Your nap was interrupted by the sound of your boyfriend loudly opening drawers in the bathroom. “Binnie! Shut the hell up please!” You said stuffing a pillow over your head. He mumbled an apology but continued to loudly open cabinets.

“Hey...baby?” Changbin asked crawling onto the bed. He lifted the pillow from your face and laughed at your scowl. “I need your help.” You shook your head and turned over. “Please....” He tried pulling the covers away from you, but the effort was in vain.

“Y/n I’ll order your favorite takeout if you help me?” He coaxed in a cute voice. Changbin laughed when your sleepy face peeked out from under the covers.

“What do you want, Binnie?”

He huffed and collapsed on top of you, a groan leaving you in response to his weight. “I forgot my razor at the dorms. Do you have one I could borrow?” You rose an eyebrow and wrapped an arm around his bare back. 

“By borrow do you mean gunk up with your armpit hair?” Changbin laughed and nodded. “No, sorry. I only use wax.” He sighed and dropped his head down into your neck. 

“Is it my only option?” 

To be honest, you probably had a cheap razor lying around somewhere, but....he had woken you up from your nap. He deserved it. “Yes, this is your only option.” He whined and rolled off the bed. You told him where you kept the wax and paper and he retrieved them from the bathroom.

“I’m a manly man. This should be nothing.” He said, giving himself a pep talk as you spread wax over a strip and placed it under his left arm. He raised it over his head and readied himself for the pain. “Ooo. That wasn’t so bad.”

“Changbin I haven’t pulled it yet.” He just blushed and stared straight ahead. A high pitched scream filled the apartment when you ripped away the paper.

Hyunjin:

Hyunjin lounged on your shared bed, blonde hair laid out in weird directions as he scrolled through his phone. You walked out of the bathroom carrying the laundry hamper, most of it filled with Hyunjin’s workout clothes. “Oh, Chan called and asked me to remind you that you are filming your dance practice tomorrow.” You said adjusting your hold on the basket.

“Thanks, babe,” Hyunjin answered still on his phone. 

“Your clothes are rank, Jinnie.” You said beginning to sort through the clothes so you could begin laundry. He shot up from the bed eyes wide. You watched as he ran to your closet and searched through the clothes. “What’s wrong?” You asked sorting the dirty clothes.

“All I have left are tank tops.” 

“So? You look really hot in tank tops.” You said with a smile. Hyunjin collapsed against the closet doorframe. “You wanna tell me what’s wrong, drama llama?” He whined and groaned until he collapsed onto the floor in a puddle of depressed Hyunjin.

He pouted up at you. “I forgot to buy a new razor. I can’t film in a tank top tomorrow looking like Bigfoot!” You laughed, finding the tiniest bit of joy in his misfortune. Hyunjin was honestly overreacting. You were certain no one would care if his underarms weren’t smooth and shaved. 

However, knowing he was going to whine and complain and be an overall pain in the butt until the problem was solved, you stopped sorting the laundry. Hyunjin was too caught up in his whiny fit to see you go into the bathroom and pull out an extra razor from under the sink.

“There. Problem solved.” You said tossing it into his lap. 

“Thank you, Y/n.” He said, expression changing to a bright smile like a flip of a coin. He rushed over and gave you a sweet kiss before sprinting into the bathroom and turning on the shower.

Jisung:

“HEY BABY!”

The loud sound of Jisung’s voice rung out through the apartment making you jump. Your ears picked up on the sound of drawers opening and closing. You pushed yourself off the couch and ventured into the bathroom. Your boyfriend stood with messy hair and half his shirt over his shoulder rummaging through the cabinets.

“What’s up handsome?” He sighed, a small whine escaping his lips when his head rolled back.

“I can’t find my razor. I think I lost it on tour.” You leaned against the doorway and watched Jisung continue to search. He gave up eventually and tugged his arm back into his shirt. “Can I borrow yours? I have a performance tomorrow.” He asked cutely taking your hands in his. 

“Jisung, I only have wax strips right now. I used yours if I needed a razor.” Everyone knew guys razors were better. He flinched hearing the word wax. You could practically see the gears turning in his head. He was debating whether to go through the pain of wax or go on stage in a tank top unshaven.

“Fine. But will you help me?” 

You nodded and he trudged his feet into your shared bedroom. “Shirt off babe.” You called before grabbing the strips from below your sink. Jisung lay on your bed, feet planted on the floor and hands covering his face. His tan skin exposed to the air. You leaned over, crawling on top of him and resting your thighs on either side of his waist. “Ready.” He nodded squinting his eyes closed.

He raised his arm and you placed the strip down and smoothed it out. Jisung’s other hand held on firmly to the bedspread. “1...2...” You yanked off the strip before you got to three.

“HOLY FUCK!” Your boyfriend screamed. You took his face in your hands and peppered it with kisses.

“You ready for the other side?”

“No. But....just do it.” He flinched, feeling you press another strip under his other arm.

Felix:

Felix had been in the bathroom for three hours. You were starting to get a little worried. After another hour without hearing the shower or water running, you decided to check on him. Your knuckles tapped on the wooden door. “Felix, baby, you okay?” 

“Actually could you come in? I need some help.” His deep voice floated through the door. The scene that greeted you when you opened the door almost made you laugh out loud. Felix was standing shirtless in front of the mirror his arm raised above his head. Foamy soap was in his armpit and he held scissors in his hand, the blade having little traces of foam soap on it. “What?” He asked when you started laughing.

“Felix, what the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m trying to shave. We are filming at a water park tomorrow.” 

You could no longer hold in your laughs. Felix watched you fall to the floor clutching your side. “Oh my gosh....I can’t breathe.” You said between labored laughs. 

“Why are you laughing at me?” He asked completely serious. You smiled seeing your boyfriend look at you with utter confusion his arm still slightly raised. He watched you lean in and place a kiss to his lips. “What was that for?” He asked, though he thoroughly enjoyed the kiss. He smiled feeling your fingers play with the end of his hair.

“You are too cute.” He blushed and looked down. “If you needed to borrow a razor all you had to do was ask, baby.” He smiled and kissed you again.

“Can I use your razor, please, darling?” I reached into the nearest drawer, a hand still on Felix’s cheek, and pulled out the shaving utensil. “Thank you, Y/n.”

“What’s mine is yours, Lix.”

Seungmin:

“Hey, Y/n?” Your boyfriend called. 

You set down the spoon you were stirring with and turned down the heat on the stove. “Coming, Min. One sec!” You wiped your hands on a towel before following your boyfriend’s call into your bathroom.

He was on his knees and searching for something under your sink. “Hey, can I borrow your razor?” He questioned as if he was simply asking the time. The question confused you. He wanted to borrow your razor? Like the one you shaved your legs with?

“My what?” 

“Your razor.” 

Still quite confused you walked into your bedroom and pulled out your still semi-full suitcase. You had gotten back from a trip a few days ago and Seungmin had spent the last few nights at your place. He claimed that it was because he needed a break from the boys, but you knew he missed you. His arms wrapped around your stomach from behind and he watched you search through your bag for the shaving utensil.

“Why do you need this again?” You asked, pulling out your toiletry bag.

“Cause I usually borrow Jisung’s before a performance but Changbin stole it before I could.” 

“I’m gonna ignore how unhygienic that is.” You said pulling out a clean razor from under your shampoo bottle. “Here you go.” His hand brushed yours when he took the commercial blade from your grip.

“Thanks cutie.” He surprised you by pressing an exaggerated kiss to your cheek before running back to the bathroom.

“KIM SEUNGMIN IF YOU CLOG MY RAZOR I WILL CASTRATE YOU.”

“I KNOW!”

Jeongin:

“Y/n?” Your boyfriend called. Innie was somewhere in your apartment doing something. This was one of the few days the Jeongin had free of any schedules and you were ecstatic he chose to spend it with you at home. 

He turned when you opened the door to the bedroom. Jeongin sat on the edge of the bed in a loose tank top. “What’s up, handsome?” You asked jumping onto the bed and resting your chin on his shoulder. 

“Do you have a razor I could borrow?” Your brows furrowed in thought. To your recollection, you only had wax strips. They gave you a closer shave job than a razor. He sighed when you shook your head ‘no’.

You rubbed his shoulder and he gave you a half-assed smile. “I have wax strips. They will be a little painful, but they will get the job done.” Jeongin let out a nervous laugh before shrugging and letting me go get the strips from the bathroom. 

“How much is it gonna hurt?” He asked, eyes going soft. He laid down on the bed at your direction and raised his arms over his head. 

“Not as much getting your ears pierced.” You said placing the wax strip in his armpit and smoothing it out.

“I don’t have my ears pierced.”

“Yeah, when are you gonna do that? You would look really hot with piercings.” In the middle of your sentence, you ripped away the paper making your boyfriend yelp in pain. “Aww....baby.” You leaned down and kissed his cheek before moving to his lips. 

“You’re right that wasn’t too bad.”

Requests are open my lovelies! Just send an ask!

Masterlist

#stray kids imagines #stray kids preferences #stray kids reactions #rubber ducky you're the one #stray kids #stray kids incorrect quotes #kpop incorrect quotes #stray kids masterlist #stray kids angst #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fake texts #stray kids apocalypse au #stray kids au imagine #stray kids au imagines #stray kids college au #stray kids social media au #stray kids soulmate au #stray kids fluff #kpop imagines #kpop reactions #bangchan #lee know imagines #changbin imagines #hyunjin imagines #han jisung imagines #lee felix imagines #kim seungmin imagines #yang jeongin imagines

[hajimewhore]

Body Swap 👫 (Iwaizumi Hajime/Reader) ➸Rated T, fem!Reader, 2.1k words    ➷Humor, fluff, awkwardness, mild miild nsfw but not explicit, I will say I can only assume this kinda thing happens when you swap bodies lol    ➷ Masterlist, Part 1, Part 2, ✈Part 3, Part 4

You initially dreaded the conversation with Hajime’s parents, wincing on the way through the door with a slight panic washing over you. But after a short and pleasant talk with them, you came to find the conversation flowed more naturally than you’d anticipated.

They’re not as doting to Hajime as they are to you, you note, but they’re friendly and pleasant and you feel as if you’re talking to your own family. Much like your own parents wanted a son, Hajime’s always wanted a daughter, so they often acted as your second set of parents. You feel a bit silly in retrospect, they’re as charming as ever with Hajime as they are with you.

They mostly inquire about Hajime’s day, and after a bit you excuse yourself to ‘study’, escaping to Hajime’s room. You’re beginning to feel positive about the next school day after the interaction, confidence boosted.

Who knew you would turn out to be such a good actress, better than you thought! Award winning, honestly. This whole body swap will be a cake walk. You can totally pull off being Hajime!

It seems you can definitely pull off the acting portion, but the sweat sticking to your clothes from your exhausting (emotionally and physically) practice is starting to make you consider the hygiene aspect of the swap. Which, has you feeling wildly uncomfortable.

This cosmic joke, shitty trope of a situation has you experiencing humiliation and embarrassment at levels you didn’t even realize were possible to achieve.

Normally after a grueling practice, you wouldn’t hesitate to hop straight into the shower and blast the hot water over your skin, feeling your muscles and aches soothed. But this isn’t your skin, or your muscles. You’re consistently reminded every hour, minute, and second, that it’s all Hajime. You should feel comforted that he’s definitely experiencing the same emotional crisis as you, but it only serves to heighten your distress.

Cheeks immediately heating at that, you recall the conversation with Hajime from earlier at the park.

“Just... let’s not think about it. And let’s definitely not talk about it. It’s a natural part of life.”

You know full well of the agreement you came to with red stained cheeks, but is there any way you could go without it? And drench yourself with Axe body spray? Or whatever it is guys like to use. You bet it would make a good repellent, no one would want to talk to you if you smelled like that.

You scrunch your nose, dashing the thought immediately, definitely not. Not only would it make you feel gross, Hajime would whack you first thing in the morning, and probably shove you in the shower himself.

‘No big deal, no big deal, it’s no big deal, you can do this!’

You find yourself chanting silent encouragements as you peel your shirt off, pitching it into a laundry basket. When you catch your reflection, a dark pink creeps across your features.

Yep, that’s still Hajime’s face, 

‘Gaaah, don’t look at me like that!’

You press your hands to your face, but you end up peaking through your fingers anyways. The low sweats definitely don’t help, and neither do Hajime’s well defined abs.

You’d been true to your word when you told Hajime you hadn’t seen anything, but now you’re a little desperate to know what the deal is downstairs.

You won’t look. You shouldn’t.  You don’t look. You definitely do not look.

You look,

pulling the sweats down, and shoving the briefs just past your thighs, you bite your lip at the revelation.

Okay.

Alright.

This is fine.

This is totally fine.

Hajime is just secretly packing.

WHAT THE FUCK?

You suppose it wasn’t necessarily a secret, it was always assumed of Hajime. You’ve also been privy to the third years’ cock talk at lunch, and he always did exude big dick energy, but damn Hajime.

Wait. Are you—

NOPE.

NOPE NOPE NOPE YOU ARE NOT DEALING WITH THIS RIGHT NOW.

You cover your face again, a recurring action today it seems, cheeks burning rampant and hotter than ever before. You feel a prickly hot and itchy feeling light a fire up your back to your neck, the heat of pure, unbridled, embarrassment coursing every vein.

Were you... getting a boner?

NOOOOOOO.

From being turned on by Hajime? While you are Hajime?

This is some paradoxical bullshit you are simply not having right now, not tonight, not tomorrow, and hopefully never again.

Despite the shame and humiliation beating down on your psyche, you risk a glance to see how much bigger he looks than before.

“Cold shower, yep. Cold shower helps, right?”

You immediately shove the briefs the rest of the way down, before hopping in the shower, starting it up at the coldest setting. Hopefully the freezing water will wash away not only your transgressions but also your mortification.

You squeak at the cold, bite your lip and shiver, tough it out, and will away the uncomfortable situation.

You sigh, hoping the morning will go smoother than the swell night you had, hopping down the steps of Hajime’s house.

You cross the street to meet up with him and Tooru, already seeing their figures across the road.

“Ha-Hey.”

You almost slip up with his name, but you make a clean save. Mentally patting yourself on the back, you glance to see Hajime’s bitter expression and—

Your jaw drops when you catch sight of... yourself. Your silent wish for a trouble-free morning is cast aside as you examine his appearance.

Hair unkempt, face completely bare, not even moisturizer or at least sunscreen to be seen, did he even try?

“Ha hey to you too, Iwa-chan.”

Tooru raises a brow at the odd introduction, clearly noting the slip up (and also the fact that Hajime usually settles for a short grunt and never a ‘Ha-hey’), but you can’t be bothered to entertain him right now with the current Hajime dilemma.

“Right, whatever,” you direct your attention to Hajime, “can I grab that thing I lent you yesterday?”

“What are you talking about? You’re being weird, Hajime.”

He warns you with a stern look, but you aren’t having it,

“I’m not, I know you have it, we can grab it right now. Tooru, you go ahead. I’ll see you later.”

You push Hajime back in the direction of your house, and Tooru frowns at his abrupt seclusion with zero explanation.

“Are you guys seriously ditching me?”

Tooru raises a brow, arms akimbo with a disgraced look.

“Yeah, we are, Shittykawa. Let’s go.”

You hate to diss Tooru without a solid reason, but it’s pretty on brand for Hajime, so you bite out the nickname with minor discomfort on your lips. You impatiently grab Hajime, before pulling him towards the steps of your house, Tooru’s complaints going unheard behind you.

“Hajime! You’re not wearing any make up! And my hair is a mess!”

You whine out, sitting him down at your vanity.

Hajime merely scowls,

“Seriously? That’s what this is about? Don’t scare me like that, I thought there was something wrong.”

He moves to stand, but you shove him back into the seat with a little more aggression than intended, you lowkey forgot how strong Hajime was.

And Hajime looks up at you with a incredulous expression, feeling a little scandalized, as a woman, that you would handle him like that.

“There IS something wrong though. I look awful! At least wear some foundation and mascara, that stuff is easy to apply!”

You pull out your make up box, flicking on the mirror light.

“I think you look fine this way,” he huffs, “you don’t need all that shit.”

A frown tugs at his lips, and you feel your heartbeat quicken at his earnest display. You bite back a wistful sigh, this is exactly the reason you’ve always been so drawn to Hajime. Rough around the edges, but there there’s no bullshit when it comes to him. He doesn’t disguise his intentions, doesn’t waste time saving face. He’s just genuine, unadulterated, Iwaizumi Hajime, what you see is exactly what you get, and you honestly wouldn’t have him any other way.

Setting aside your thoughts for another time to privately dwell on, you ignore the feeling. 

“Really? That’s nice of you to say. Keep going.”

You smile, pink dusting your cheeks. You hope your expression doesn’t look too soft as you continue to apply the makeup to his face.

“Fishing for compliments now? No way, Shitty-L/N.”

“Nooo! Don’t call me that!”

You pause mid powder to cry out in your indignation, to which he masterfully ignores fixating his gaze on something more interesting than your whining, like the window sill.

After a bit of complaining, back and forth bickering about how uncomfortable the make up feels, you continue with a light highlight and mascara. You stop once you’re satisfied with your work, not bothering to deal with any extras like eyeliner or eyeshadow.

“All this for what? It tickles, and you can’t even touch it.”

Hajime’s hand hovers over his cheek, careful not to smudge anything. You must’ve smacked his hand away too many times, it seems.

“You get used to it. Plus it can be fun to try different brands and colors, and the little confidence boost isn’t bad.”

“Not that you need it.”

Hajime sighs out, standing from the seat to stretch. You’re sure it’s meant to be an insult to the crude ego you (and Tooru) tend to display, but you sense an underlying meaning that winds up boosting your ego even more.

“Anyways, we’re all done! And with time to spare.”

You chrip, gleaming with pride at your work. Add that too the list of things you should be, actress, and make up artist (next to pro volleyball player of course).

Hajime glances to the mirror, “’looks nice, I guess,” he hums in very faint approval.

That’s as good as a compliment to you, so you’ll take it!

He shifts to make way for the door, hooking his school bag over his shoulder.

“And it was definitely easier to do it on you than myself. Hey, maybe when you learn how to put it on yourself, you can do it for me when we switch back?”

You hover around him eagerly, and he rolls his eyes, resisting the urge to not smack his own body.

“No way in hell. The most I’ll do while we’re switched is that eyelash shit and the foundation or whatever,” he pauses, averting his eyes, “and only because it makes you so happy for some damn reason.”

You grin, ecstatic with his unexpected compliance, pulling him into a hug,

“And that’s perfect, eyelash shit and foundation or whatever is good enough for me!”

“H-Hey! Knock it off!”

It feels weird, being so much taller and hugging your body, but it still feels right considering it’s Hajime despite it all.

He tentatively returns the embrace, albeit awkwardly with one arm.

“We’re gonna be late if we keep bullshitting. Let’s go!”

He gently pushes you off and hightails it out of your room, and you laugh trailing after his awkward stomps.

 “Also, wear your skirt higher!”

You call out behind him.

“What? No way in hell! This is the school standard, you always wear it too high!”

He spins around, uncomfortably smoothing out the skirt pleats as if the action could make it lengthier.

“I have nice legs, and I want to show it off!”

You growl, chasing Hajime down the stairs, grabbing onto the waistline of the skirt.

“That’s stupid and you know it. Just who are you trying to impress?! They shouldn’t like you for your legs!”

He holds a tight grip on the skirt and you scowl, prying Hajime’s hands away to yank up the garment.

“No one, it’s called fashion!”

You successfully tug the skirt higher, but a bit too much considering your panties are on full display.

You snort at the sight, “Hajime, you dog, are you wearing my strawberry panties?”

Hajime feels a sense of shame at the sudden breeze, mockery, and unfathomable humiliation.

“Knock it off, it’s just a school uniform idiot! And what the fuck else was I supposed to wear?!”

He tugs the skirt back down and you click your tongue, grabbing a fist full of the fabric to hike it back up. 

“What are you two doing, we’re gonna be late!”

Tooru swings the front door open with a huff, eyes locking onto the both of you. You freeze position, instantly dreading the conversation that’s sure to take place shortly, whereas the tall setter halts at the display before him.

His precious, dear, sweet, childhood best friend’s hands are grasping at his brutish, caveman, heathen of a best friend’s biceps.

Said precious bestie’s hands are trying to shove aforementioned despicable heathen’s grip from her skirt, cheeks bright red

“Uh, this... isn’t what it looks like?”

A/N: I had extra extra fun with this part hahahaa,, sorry for the cliffhanger but I had to do it to ya, next part soon!

taglist: @cybergovl​

Masterlist, Part 4

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu reader insert #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fic #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi hajime/reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader