#third one kept telling me i had to make a payment and i was like I JUST DID THAT THATS THE FIRST THING I DID

[unsettlingcreature]

I don't support being mean to customer service reps but sweet fuck I was close to snapping at 2/3 reps with my energy provider

[beemynumberone]

Heartbreaker

-> a rendition of how Oikawa Tooru and gf!reader broke up

-> angst, written mainly as a recount from reader’s POV

-> inspired by Majorie by Taylor Swift (the regret of losing someone you didn’t treasure enough, but mainly the angst tho)

-> constructive feedback is always appreciated!

Writer’s note: Hi! I am writing these scenarios to placate my active imagination and hopefully make someone’s day/night. I do not intend to hurt anyone/anything through this fic.

Thank you for picking up my story and happy reading!

Part 1

Chapter 4:

Disaster by the name of Kageyama Tobio struck when we moved to third year. It came slowly but surely and well, I tried my best to be a supportive girlfriend. But my best was still not enough. For the both of us.

Our Mondays remained the same, we would go to the convenience store after school, grab a snack, calculate calories, complain about diets, choose the original snack anyway then play payment roulette at the cashier. The cashiers all knew us by name but called us that cute couple anyway. It was our thing.

However, everything else changed. Tooru’s favourite conversation starter became Kageyama Tobio. A first year in Karasuno High and a former volleyball teammate (or rival? I couldn’t tell until Iwa told me) in middle school. On our long cycles, the occasional remarks became Oikawa ranting about Kageyama. Even while panting and puffing his way up a hill, Tooru would talk in between gasped breaths about him. I didn’t mind the extra words. I however, did mind the way Tooru seemed obsessed about the poor dude.

Kageyama this, Kageyama that. How funny that I was worried about losing my boyfriend to a volleyball rival and not another girl. Oikawa was strangely loyal like that, I supposed.

Chapter 6:

It all came to a head when the volleyball season was nearing. Tooru, the hardworking gentleman I knew became a shell of himself. Even after his team volleyball practice, he would continue practising his spikes, sets and serves until his “fingers had no strength to grip the door key to lock the door”, as Mattsun whispered to me, concerned for his friend and captain.

So on a Wednesday, I waited for Tooru to finish his volleyball practice. At 6pm, I stood outside the indoor hall, waiting for the familiar matted brown hair I grew to love. Some boys wearing the cyan jersey rushed out cheering. The second years moved pass me, some bowing their heads. Then the third years came out. I waited and watched. Iwaizumi was at the back of the group. He looked at me, shaking his head. “He’s still inside. Please convince him to stop. The coaches and all of us are afraid he will burn himself out. You’re the only one who can stop himself y/n.”

“Tooru, are you there?” I walked down the steps into the hall, trying not to breathe in too hard the musty concoction of sweat and axe body spray. I walked pass the spectator steps, down to the only remaining net.

The boy in question didn’t hear me apparently. He continued to dribble the ball, tossing it into the air and jumping.

The ball whooshed into the air and slammed into the other court. I swallowed my words. How could I stop this talented guy from doing what he always wanted, what he always told me about with sparkling eyes that shone as brightly as the stars in the night sky.

And as Tooru kept serving one ball after the other, the sky outside grew darker and darker.

Chapter 7:

It was a Saturday morning when I got the call from Iwaizumi. “Y/n, Oikawa’s injured. His knee gave way while practising.”

And just like that, our routine changed.

The Monday convenience store trips were now facilitated by me. The old granny cashier asked me where my “handsome boyfriend” was. I smiled at her, tight-lipped. “He’s injured. Overstrained his knee.” The granny made a sad face and patted my arm. “Hope he gets well quickly. My grandson says that the volleyball games are coming soon.” I sighed.

Our cycling trips were now shifted indoors. So it became movie sleepover nights, which then turned to watching-past-volleyball-game-nights. I frowned at Tooru, whose eyes had been glued to the glowing screen for the past 2 and a half hours. Must have been something that led to his bespectacled life, I guessed with a heavy heart.

“Tooru, let’s sleep okay? It’s really late.”

Chapter 8 (The beginning of the end):

Tooru had finally gotten the clear to start training again. He was eager to walk with me to the convenience store again, say hi to the nice cashier, pay for all the food I’d paid for while he was resting. And soon he got greedy, as usual.

“Let’s go cycling again y/n.” Tooru was a fighter, I could get that.

So we started small. 10 minutes and pain evident on Tooru’s face was all I needed to stop. “Let’s try again next week Tooru, baby steps remember?”

10 minutes grew to 30 in a matter of a month. Tooru seemed happier about his mobility.

“Y/n, do you think coach would let me play in the upcoming season?”

“If he cared about your wellbeing, I don’t think so.”

“How could you say that! Where’s the supportive girlfriend you were when I was spiking that Wednesday?”

“Yea, I was a supportive girlfriend and look where we are now. Please Tooru, listen to me, you should at least let your knee recuperate. We did 2 hours before with no pain. Let’s aim for that first.”

The next week, Tooru wanted to do 2 hours. Of course I said no because he was going to hurt himself.

Tooru sulked and grumbled all the way to his room about everyone being so mean to him. My heart sank. At the top of the staircase, I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Why are you like this?”

“Like what?”

“Always pushing yourself to the ends of your limits and ignoring all the advice given to you. It’s really worrying y’know.”

Tooru blurted out with shiny eyes. “I can’t let Kageyama win me. You know that he’s more talented than I am so I must work ten times harder than what he does. I want to beat him. I have to, y/n.”

I should’ve taken his vulnerability as an answer and let it all slide. But I was tired. Tired of always being placed after his volleyball.

“Kageyama this, Kageyama that. Why are you making this so big of an issue?”

“You don’t understand me y/n!”

“Well yea, I don’t. I don’t understand why you are putting so much pressure on yourself when you know your body cant take it. Everyone’s worried sick about you!”

Tooru’s smile turned rigid. I waited with bated breath for what came next.

“If you could just stop caring about me for once, you would stop worrying.”

“What are you suggesting? Of course I care for you Tooru! You’ll make me less worried if you’d just listen.”

“No I won’t. I love volleyball.”

My heart dropped. “Did you ever once think that you liked me? At least close to your love for volleyball?”

Those warm brown eyes, now stone cold and filled with hatred were looking at me.

“No. I never thought of you that way.”

No, I wasn’t going to break down in front of this guy. My lip trembled as I fought my tears to remain hidden. I could feel Oikawa’s eyes boring into my bowed head. He was analysing, wondering what he could get out of this, just like the first time we met.

My expectations were too high. This was high school, sweetheart. Play stupid games win stupid prizes. Well done y/n.

“Let’s break up. I think it’s better for the both of us Oikawa.”

I looked up, gave a defiant glare and bolted crying. Tears streamed down my face and I didn’t bother to wipe them off. Let him see me in this miserable state, let him gloat or regret. I didn’t care anymore.

I unlocked my bike and took off. I didn’t know where to, I just knew I wanted to be as far away from that guy as possible. I wiped my teary eyes and out came a contact lens. I stared at it, flashbacks of our first encounter came back. The heart fluttering moment now tinged with sadness. I was never going to fall for deceitfully kind people like him ever again.

Combined with my rage, blurred vision and tears that were starting to fall again, I paddled into the abyss. Missed a pebble. Tripped, bike fell, chain came out.

And as I knelt on the muddy floor trying to put the stupid chain back on its spikes, I lost it. Whenever my bike chain came out, Oikawa always took the initiative to fix it for me. His deft fingers handling the stubborn chain in mere minutes, which when he stood up, made me feel like he was the saviour of my dreams. His hands were greasy and dirty from touching the chain but if he did care, he never showed it. He would simply dust his hands off, crack a lame joke and we would carry on.

My tears fell as I reminisced on the muddy floor. I hated that I loved him. I hated that I still did.

On Monday, I went to school emotionless. I was desperate to forget him. Even as people whispered about us in the school hallway, I remained silent. When Iwa sat next to me for math class, eyes asking for answers, I sent him a stern look which shut him up.

After school, I couldn’t help myself. I walked over to the same convenience store we always went to. Took the same drink as I always did and went to pay. The granny cashier took one look at me and waived off the fee. A small “Are you alright dear?” later and there I was, sobbing in her arms, babbling apologies for soaking her shirt with my tears and snot. Her gentle countenance and warm words reached out to touch my aching heart and for once I felt peace that I was going to survive this ordeal.

Oikawa’s POV:

“Tooru, please help me take Takeru out. He’s been restless since morning and I have work to do.”

Oikawa grumbled. He couldn’t find it in himself to refuse his sister or that absolutely adorable brat (but he wouldn’t say that of course).

He stood in front of the vanity, hands poised to wear his contacts, when an image of y/n came to mind. Her figure hunched over, phone camera out, trying her hardest to put her contacts in. He couldn’t help but offer assistance.

“Look up for me please.”

Her eyes shone in the morning sun, looking ethereal. She was scared, he could tell. But when she handed over the reins to him, Oikawa felt… trusted. He felt like she saw him for who he was and not by any title. Simply that he was a kind person who was willing and experienced to help her. And after dating her, she never failed to make him feel special even without a title. He loved how she listened to him during their conversations and how she always gave good advice that showed she really did listen to him. He really was a jerk to her, Oikawa sighed, heart sinking.

When he had to go straight home after school, her absence was conspicuous. He wanted to rant about the new teacher and how Iwa teased him again during lunch. He missed her smile and the convenience store trips and even the 10 minute cycling sessions (which were bearable only due to her encouragement and smiles when they passed the 5 minute mark) and everything else about her. Tears welled up and threatened to spill out of his eyes.

*Knock*

Startled, Oikawa poked his eye. His eyes watered.

Takeru strolled into the room.

“What happened Uncle Tooru? Why are your eyes so red?”

Oikawa sniffed back his tears. “Takeru, I’m so bored that I was crying out of boredom cause my girlfriend dumped me. Wanna go out and play?”

[piplupod]

video abt how Canadian govmt is essentially participating in eugenics by implementing MAID and ignoring the UN saying that this is immoral since they havent made sure a life worth living is available first, commenter says "do you work in the psych field? i do. what you're saying isnt true. free counseling exists for people."

oh you mean the free counseling I've been accessing for the past two years? you mean the one where the first counselor kept forgetting that I had appointments with her so when I showed up she wasnt available and I'd have to just walk home? you mean the one where the second counselor I had misgendered me the entire time even though I was explicitly clear with what I was comfortable with and uncomfortable with, and then she just left the practice after two appts and tried to stick me with a lady I didn't like? you mean the one where my third and current counselor keeps telling me my autistic symptoms are things that "everyone does" and who keeps pushing a treatment on me that I have tried and didnt work? you mean the one where the only reason why I didn't have to wait for more than half a year to access it is because I've been in inpatient for suicidal gestures twice in the past three years and I had to tell them yet again that this is urgent and I do definitely need help asap? And then they couldn't get me in for six months?

yeahhhh super helpful. definitely solves homelessness and systemic issues and ptsd and complex disorders! definitely will make people who are being suggested to apply for MAID want to apply any less. definitely makes life seem worth living when the disability payments are well under the poverty line and disabled people make up a large number of the impoverished in canada!

[fleastinger]

I spent all weekend at home. Planning, organizing, stressing, preparing.

Friday I overextended myself by visiting my old job, then driving 30 min away to pick up a litter box, only to almost fall asleep behind the wheel on my way to my best friends. I ended up going to a deli, overspending like crazy (i miss that 40 bucks atm), then telling myself once i got home that i just needed to nap to be okay.

I fell asleep until 4am.

On saturday I sat in my place and mulled all day, stressing about my finances, trying to start but kept calling family to update and chat about things. When i did get started i bought what i needed, then rewarded myself w food, then got too drunk trying to mske cleaning "fun". I feel like i was able to get a better gauge of whats going on with my parents and actually talk via text to him, but i felt very lonely.

Today i got the most done (and prob because of the double expresso drink i had in the morning to pull me through it all). I got a cat tower, drove to my best friends work to get supplies, more food for the cat, an actual bed for the thing, and hunted for rope to redo the scratcher ( i have to order it soon.) I got home, napped, caught up with a friend, then started to really go to town organizing my place.

I felt the most productive snd tje least stressed today. But i feel like im avoiding my issue which is the financial aspect- i have my phone bill, rent, and my car loan on top of ths vet visit due friday. I know I can call to push out one of them, and I can use an advance app for the second thing, but if I intend on making my rent payment without pushing it for a third month then i need to uber. And i sacrificed this weekend to organize.

I dont know if im functioning out of compartmentalization, or if i really think i can pull this off. I just...need to be careful.

[ceruleanwhore]

I got rammed by a dump truck recently, so I want to talk about insurance since it’s all new to me and my company told me jack fucking shit.

First off, the second they tell you your vehicle is totaled, return the plates to the RMV. You can do this online and don’t actually have to go fuck around at the RMV but what that does is make it so your car is officially gone so you can cr cell your policy and not be out here making insurance payments on a car that doesn’t exist. No one told me this, so I actually made a payment after my car was totaled and now I’m waiting on a refund.

Second thing is that, if you take time off from work to heal, you can put in to get your lost wages, but it takes fucking forever. My biggest problem with the aftermath of the accident was being broke and then (still) not having lost wages and, when I returned to work, not making money fast enough to stop being broke. If I had the money from that insurance payment or my lost wages, it would be different, but this shit takes forever.

Third is that they will tell you fucking nothing. You’ll make a million calls with a million questions and the super simple ones will be answered while anything they don’t like will get you bounced around between departments until you give up. That’s the other thing is you’re just supposed to magically know what to ask and which department to ask it of, or else you get fucked over. You’ll probably have one person who’s just there for your medical billing and then another person who’s assigned to your case, but pay attention to names on the stuff they send in the mail.

There are some things you can answer for yourself without calling your company, like if you live in a no-fault state or not. My dad found a helpful list of car insurance faq’s for my state and I’m sure they’re out there for the other 49 too. This actually is how we learned about canceling the plates.

The fourth thing is that, if your car is totaled, they’ll send an adjuster out to the tow yard it’s being kept in and then they’ll give you whatever they determine its value to be. For myself, I got a COVID car that was fucking $20k for a fucking three year old Corolla, but they valued it at $17k so now I still have to pay the remaining $2,000 (I’ve already paid off so the loan’s down to $19,000, not 20.) This is super fun because I don’t have a fucking car so I’m staying with my grandma and she’s driving me to and from work and now I have to pay off this $2,000 before I can even think about getting another vehicle.

That being said, apparently your insurance has ways of providing things like rental cars, which is my fifth point. Given that I haven’t actually procured this mythical thing and no one would ever rent to me without insurance providing this, I’m not 100% sure how this works. However, even in a no-fault state like mine, they can look at the situation and see that an old couple ran a stop sign and hit me with a fucking dump truck and now I can’t go anywhere and then get me some transportation.

The last thing I’ll say is to expect any and all phone calls to be intensely frustrating, confusing, and unhelpful. I was hardly able to do fucking anything on my own even though I fought tooth and nail but when my mom started making calls for me, stuff finally started moving. However, my mom literally built a file for me and took so much time out of her work days for this shit that she also wants to put in for lost wages because that’s how long you have to spend on the fucking phone. Oh and they’ll only be open 8-4:30 so good luck navigating around any work or school schedule at all to do that. They’ll also do fun things like wait a whole week to return a call or call your mom’s phone instead of yours for a callback, even though she said 3 times in the voicemail to call your number.

Now, if you’re neurodivergent, you’re kinda just screwed. I’m autistic and this whole thing makes me want to vomit and then stab like five people including myself. It’s deeply, deeply, painfully uncomfortable for anyone, but especially anyone who isn’t neurotypical.

[judytrashcan]

Did you know that when call center representatives start a ticket they are not going to solve that themselves? We only have access to limited information so if a representative tell you they are going to call you back in a few days chances are that they have to send that ticket to other department so they can get that sorted and we can give you the resolution.

And of course we need to be as precise as we can with the ticket! We need to understand the customer need and explain it the best we can so the team can understand what they need to do.

But when you don't like your resolution it's not my fault. Hell is not even the team fault . Most of us really want to help you. You want to put the blame in someone? Put it on your company and probably your CEO because they have policies that are only there to make your life (and mine) more difficult.

They don't care about you, they are probably in their third yacht drinking a margarita made by their personal bartender, why would he care about your issues with HR, or your insurance company or payroll department? They don't care about it, they don't care about you.

So if I'm giving you a resolution, and you don't like it don't blame it on me, or on my team, blame it on them because we're y doing the best we can with the information we have on hand.

So please don't be rude to me and tell me this is the most unprofessional help you have ever received, that I'm only lying to you, that I don't want to do my work (even though I'm doing unpaid over time because you wanted to yell at me for 30 minutes). Don't tell me I have to do what you want when you say, because if I could I would do it just to get rid of you. Don't be rude to me, I'm keeping my voice low for you. Don't tell me it's breaking and you don't hear, because I will try to get another representative in line and they would hear me perfectly and (in this case) will hang up on me without telling me ((to the person that answered me thank you so much for that by the way)) getting me back again with the Karen.

You want to speak with a supervisor? They're going to give you a call back in 24 hours. I'm not lying when I tell you they're not answering they never are. You want to speak with someone right now, you're stuck with me, sorry btw, for both of us.

You know what the worse part is? The call could have took us 5-7 minutes if she only have listen to me the first time. And the even worst part is this person is someone who have work with customer service before.

Yeah, working retail, being a waiter or being front desk is not exactly the same as being in a call center. But you get how this work. You get how people can be. And you don't show a little fraction of mercy.

But no, you know what the worst part is?

To maliciously ask your name at the end of the call and you just know they're going to give you the worst review they can. And it hurts when just yesterday you were the #1 of your team for the whole month and if you had kept that for only one more day they would have gave you a bonus that would have help you with your payments and with college.

I was counting on that bonus to meet the bills this month. Oh well...

[beccascribbles]

totally inspired by ur omegaverse manager going into heat it is literally a masterpiece!! could you maybe do the same prompt but for seijoh in honor of oikawa's ear making an appearance🥺been thirsting for seijoh content lately sos

a/n - writing this a little (sorry, a lot) later so it's in honour of his ear and his 5 seconds of fame. also i'm really pleased you enjoyed it!! i had a great time writing it (first time in a while that i finished a fic in one sitting). hope you enjoy this one :)

Managing Seijoh was an experience, one that you were sure you would look back on with fond memories in the future. However, at the moment, it was borderline undesirable. A group of omegas and betas surrounded you, pressing letters and gifts into your arms.

"Please give this to Oikawa," one of them begged, placing a carefully wrapped parcel on the top.

You forced a smile onto your lips, peering around the stack in your arms to look at the people surrounding you. Voice filled with false kindness, you spoke, "I'll hand deliver these to him straight away. I'm sure Tooru will really appreciate it."

That last sentence was a lie. It had been a while since the gifts Oikawa received hadn't been shared between the team, particularly the food which was likely to feature heavily in the pile. A chorus of thanks followed you down the corridor, and your smile dropped as soon as you turned the corner.

"Dumb fan club," you grumbled, fighting the urge to throw the pile of gifts into the next bin you saw. You couldn't understand why they always came to you, why they begged you to hand him the gifts when he would likely appreciate it more if they were given to him in person. You kicked open the door of the gym, yelling out, "Delivery!"

Heads turned in your direction, volleyballs hitting the floor as everyone stopped practicing and jogged towards you. Iwaizumi removed a majority of the gifts from your hold, going to place them on the bench, and shooting Oikawa a glare, jerking his head in your direction. Begrudgingly, Oikawa took the last few gifts from you and placed them where Iwaizumi had placed the others.

"There any food there?" questioned Kyoutani, picking up a parcel wrapped with a teal ribbon. He sniffed it, nose wrinkling as the scent of an omega filled his nose. Then, he threw it to the side and grunted, "Tell me when you find the food."

"They smell a bit sickly, don't they?" you giggled, giving him a nudge with your elbow. Kyoutani simply nodded, moving away to sit on the floor, back leaning against the wall. You turned to Oikawa, hands resting on your hips. "I expect adequate payment for the hassle this caused me."

"Does my love and affection forever count?" he beamed, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and tugging you into his side. You simply glared at him, arms crossing over your chest. He chose to ignore your clear displeasure at his reply.

"You think way too highly of yourself, Loserkawa," smirked Iwaizumi, throwing a gift his way. Oikawa caught the item, cringing at the small piece of fabric that dangled from his finger. It was dainty, a delicate lace.

"Clearly that one was just meant for you," snickered Hanamaki as Oikawa held the item upwards, taking it in from a different angle.

"y/n?" he questioned, holding it out to. "Could be a good addition to your wardrobe."

"Fuck off," you snapped, turning away from him to grab a bin bag. You shoved it towards him. "Throw it in here."

As Oikawa disposed of the item, Matsukawa could be heard opening a parcel. He pulled out a DVD from the remains, peering at what was written on the case. He mumbled, "Watch when you're alone?"

"Oi, Oikawa!" he called, drawing his attention. Oikawa skipped over, clearly expecting something good. "I think someone sent you a video of themselves. Send us your reactions, yeah?"

Oikawa snatched the DVD from Matsukawa, throwing it into the bin, his nose wrinkled in disgust. He whined, "Where's the food? Why have they all got so much worse?"

With a sigh, deciding you had tortured Oikawa and delayed practice enough, you clapped your hands together. "Shoo. Get back to practice and I'll sort this shit out. All offending items will be binned. Only food will be kept."

By the time you had sorted through all the items, the bin bag was full, full enough that it required you to take it out. Only a small pile of food had been found, barely enough to share between the team. You supposed you would forgo your portion in favour of ensuring the first years got something. They were always hesitant to dive in, letting the third years take control. Kyoutani was also threatening, growling at any who got too close to the food he had acquired. You stood up, grabbing the bin bag and hefting it over one shoulder.

A sigh escaped from your lips as you pushed the door open. Maybe Oikawa could start requesting food, you contemplated, shifting the bin bag into your other hand. The weight was surprising considering the items you’d had to dispose of. Honestly, a part of you still couldn’t wrap your head around what Oikawa had received. How could they think Oikawa would appreciate that?

You grunted, swinging the bag into the larger bin around the back of the gym. Stepping back, you dusted your hands off, stretching slightly. As you turned to head back to the gym, a sharp, unfamiliar scent filled your nose. It burnt your nostrils, reeked of aggression and anger. The rational part of you told you to leave, to return to the safety of the gym. But the other part of you, the part that told you to help others, kept you rooted in place.

"Hello?" you questioned, inhaling deeply as you attempted to pinpoint their location. Judging by the strength of the scent, they were close to your location, somewhere to the left of you. You stepped in that direction. "Are you okay?"

A growl cut through the air, and you halted, eyes widening as you saw an alpha leant against the wall, hands clenched into fists. He was panting, nails cutting through the skin of his palm. He looked up, catching your eye and pleading with you. "Stay the fuck away from me. Please. Stay away."

It clicked for you then. The sharp scent growing more prominent, the aggression, the desperation with which he pleaded with you. Immediately, you clamped down on your scent, tugging it in as much as you could and ensuring it didn't head in the alpha's direction. You had to question whether bringing more alphas to him would be an aid. Knowing Oikawa, he would feel the alpha going into rut was a threat and would act aggressive in return. Matsukawa and Iwaizumi would likely be no better if they perceived them to be a direct threat to you. Kyoutani was usually aggressive at the best of times. It went against your better judgement to involve any of the first years. They were too young to be exposed to such danger. Actually, it went against your better judgement to involve any of the team. All you should do, you reasoned, was inform the coaches quietly and keep it hidden from the team.

The longer you stood there contemplating, the weaker you could feel yourself growing, a steady heat rising through your body. You cursed under your breath, a quiet fuck, before raising the volume of your voice. "Just stay here, okay? I'll send the coaches out to help you."

Slowly, you backed away, careful to avoid sending your scent towards him. Your scent was slowly growing sweeter, more enticing. It would cause him to lose his control, a situation neither of you wanted to be in. Judging by the tightening of his muscles and the way he launched a fist into the wall, he had caught a whiff of your change in scent.

"Get away," he growled, a low threatening sound. The spike in his scent told a different story, pheromones strengthening in an attempt to weaken you further.

Your throat felt tight, knees weak as you continued to retreat. Even at the door to the gym, his scent was overpowering. A desperate sound escaped your throat, a high-pitched whine as you collapsed against the door. Footsteps, quick and hurried, echoed from inside, the door being yanked open to reveal Oikawa, the rest of the team on his heels. His lips were drawn, teeth bared at the danger that was hidden from sight. A ferocious growl ripped from his throat at the smell of the alpha in rut.

"Coaches," you gasped, pointing in the alpha's direction. "Alpha. Rut. Get him. Safe."

Iwaizumi shot you a concerned look, picking up on your condition and the overwhelming scent of alpha around you. Oikawa's reeked of possessiveness, rising up to fight against that of the other alpha. Kyoutani's scent was pure anger. He was eager for a fight, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Matsukawa's scent was calm, but domineering enough to add to the scents already assaulting your nose. That was without mentioning the bitter smell of panic drifting from all the first years as they watched in fear.

"For fuck sake," he sighed, kneeling down to pick you up, cradling you to his chest. His soothing pine scent flooded your nose as you buried your face in his chest. A helpless sound escaped your lips as your hands curled into his top. Greedily, you drew in a deep breath, craning your neck up to brush your nose against the scent gland in his neck. Iwaizumi drew in a sharp breath, holding you closer. He looked up, making eye contact with Hanamaki and Watari, and jerking his head towards Oikawa and Kyoutani. "Keep them away from that alpha. I'm taking y/n somewhere safe. Yahaba, get the coaches. Kunimi, Kindaichi, head back into the gym and tidy up."

Iwaizumi didn’t remain long enough to see if the commands he had barked at the team had been followed. In his arms, you were slowly growing more feverish, your breathing coming out in heavy pants. All he could focus on was you. Your nose tickled the scent gland in his neck as you nuzzled against it, finding comfort there. It was a sharp contrast to the scents that had surrounded you previously. Iwaizumi had been the only one to not give in completely to his animalistic urges, his eyes immediately falling on you, his nose sensitive to the change in your scent. His first instinct was to take you to the medical room. However, he knew that you would feel safer at home, within the confines of your nest.

It was fortunate this wasn’t a usual heat. Your body had reacted to the overpowering scent of a young alpha’s rut, preparing you for what may have happened had the young alpha not had so much restraint. It was a defence mechanism, one meant to protect you from what could have been a traumatic experience. Therefore, your body would calm down once you were removed from the situation. As he turned towards the gate, you let out a whimper, “Locker room, Haji. Smells good.”

That whimper was all it took for him to change direction once again, heading towards the room. It wouldn’t be comfortable, but it was clear you craved the scents within there. After all, the team was your pack. You felt safe with them. His mind whirled as he tried to think of how to make it more comfortable. Iwaizumi knew Oikawa had some spare tops in his locker which could help form a cushion. He supposed he could place a couple different training jackets on the floor for you to rest on. His own he would use as a blanket.

Carefully, he placed you on the floor, leaning you against the wall and wrapping his jacket around your form. He brushed a kiss to the top of your head. “Just give me a second. The nest will be ready soon.”

“So hot, Haji,” you whined, tugging at the material of your thin t-shirt. Iwaizumi let out a sigh, scanning the locker room for anything that might cool you down. When he turned back around, you had removed your top and were curled up against the wall. He felt a flush rise to his cheeks, ducking his head as he finished laying the jackets down on the floor. Before moving you, he placed a hand to your forehead, feeling the heat radiating from you.

"Um, do you need a cold flannel?" he questioned, and you shook your head, reaching out to hold him, burying your face on his chest.

"No, just need you," you mumbled, pausing for a second before continuing. "And Tooru. And Issei. And Kentaro. And..."

"I know," he soothed, running a hand down your back, feeling the warmth of your bare skin against the roughness of his palm. "I know. The team will be here soon."

"Okay, Haji," you sighed, letting him pick up your weak body and lay you down on the nest of clothes he had prepared. You turned your nose into the t-shirts acting as your pillow, inhaling deeply when the scent of Oikawa hit your nose. Your hand reached out, grabbing loosely onto his top, stopping him from moving away from you. The continual tugging of his top hinted to him what you wanted. He lay down behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you back against his chest. As you felt yourself relax, felt your body steadily returning to normal, the door was thrown open.

Oikawa stormed in, coming to a halt when he saw you and Iwaizumi curled up on the floor together. He needed no prompting, joining you on the floor and draping an arm over you and Iwaizumi. Oikawa pressed a kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, letting out a pleased purr at the smile that tugged at your lips.

"Sorry about earlier," he mumbled, nuzzling his head into your neck. "Shouldn't have lost control. Should've been there for you."

"I had it handled, Shittykawa," grunted Iwaizumi. "Some of us can keep our alpha in check."

"You're so mean to me, Iwa-chan," whined Oikawa.

"He's not wrong, Tooru," you mumbled, though the kiss placed to his forehead showed there was no ill-will behind your agreement. You understood how hard it was to control your instincts, having fallen afoul to them yourself.

He stayed silent, letting his scent weave through the air around you, twining with Iwaizumi's. Just as you were settling in again, the door was thrown open, revealing the rest of the team. Matsukawa and Hanamaki collapsed onto the floor at you feet, the first and second years surrounding you. Kyoutani laid out behind Iwaizumi, partaking purely to help you and make you happy. Kunimi and Kindaichi curled up on the floor beside Matsukawa, while Watari and Yahaba laid down beside Oikawa. You let out a content sigh, breathing in the various scents.

Matsukawa traced patterns on your ankle with his fingertips, shooting you a lazy grin. "Feel better?"

"Much better," you said, another pleased sound escaping your lips. "Thank you."

"No need," said Kyoutani gruffly, rolling onto his side and propping up on one elbow so he could see your form.

"What are you accepting the apology for?" piped Yahaba, shooting a teasing smirk in Kyoutani's direction. "You did fuck all except getting angry."

"Shut up," growled Kyoutani, though he made no move to throw himself at Yahaba, mindful of you.

You felt a smile appear on your face at their interaction, the familiar sound of their arguing reminding you everything was normal and that you were safe.

[jackrrabbit]

Spoiled Rotten /// Overhaul x f!Reader (18+)

Request: What if Overhaul fucks spoiled rich reader because her dad owes the yakuza money and in exchange Kai takes the daughter as a form of payment using her as his personal stress doll whenever and wherever he wants making her into his perfect little doll

A/N: While I was writing this my roommate asked if I was okay bc cause I kept stopping to fan myself and blush lmaooooo god I’m such a brat. I did change the concept up a bit, hope that’s fine!

This is dedicated not only to the OG requester but also to everyone who read the excerpt I posted a while back and told me they couldn’t wait to see the finished product!! Love you guys ❤️

Tags/warnings: threats, dubcon/coercion, dom/sub, brat taming, degradation, exhibitionism, restraints, mentions of forced prostitution, verbal & physical harassment, kidnapping, kinda breath play?, long

The first thing you notice when you come to are voices. Multiple people talking to each other, speech overlapping in patterns you can’t make out. They’re quiet—not whispering for your sake, but quiet because you’re still half knocked-out and you can barely hear.

The second thing you notice is the pounding in your head and the lingering smell of something sweet spread over your nose and mouth.

The third thing you notice is the fact that when you try to blink your eyes open, your lashes brush against something soft and dark. You’re blindfolded…and gagged, and your hands feel like they’re cuffed behind your back. From what you can sense around you, it seems like you’re hunched in a kneeling position with your cheek flattened against the floor and your bare feet tucked under your backside.

At least you’re still in your nightgown. You can feel the frilly silk of it, a useless barrier between your skin and the cool air, and it reminds you of how you got here in the first place.

A loud noise in the night. Your father’s voice pleading. A heavy thump. The door to your bedroom banging open and a strange man holding you down to your bed…lifting a sweet-smelling rag to your mouth…telling you to “take a deeeeep breath, princess.”

“Hey, I think she’s waking up.”

An invisible hand fists itself in your hair and you whine in pain as your upper body is lifted off the floor. Once you’re properly upright, you hear squeaking, shoes against concrete, and the heat and breath and presence of someone behind you. Something rustles at the back of your head—you’re too scared to move so you stay still—and then the blindfold is being lifted off your face.

Once it’s gone, you have to blink for a moment even despite the low light of the dingy room where you’ve…apparently…been kidnapped. By the freaking yakuza. And for some reason, they’re all wearing bird-beak masks.

You close your eyes, almost wishing they hadn’t taken the blindfold off. You’d prefer to live in blissful ignorance of how decidedly unclean the floor is. How dare they let your face touch it? What happened to honor among thieves?

“Do you know why you’re here?”

Against your will, your eyes flick up to the speaker. He’s the only one sitting, and somehow that gives him a position of power among the others. The leader?

Unsettling golden eyes rest on yours, and you realize he’s waiting for your answer, so you slowly move your head from side to side.

“Didn’t know about daddy’s bad habits, huh?” This time the person speaking is behind you, the one who untied your blindfold, a thin man with lank, greasy blond hair. He’s the one who drugged me, you remember in a surge of panic, and you try to stand up away from him only for him to step on the chain that connects your handcuffs, jerking you back and pinning you—painfully—to the floor.

“Careful, Setsuno. I told you not to leave marks. Let her talk.”

“Got it, boss.” The blond—Setsuno—fumbles at the back of your head and then he’s pulling the gag out of your mouth.

You open and close your mouth a few times to stretch out the stiff muscles. “Oh. My. God. Was that polyester you just took out of my mouth? Do you have any idea how bad synthetics are for sensitive skin? I’m totally going to break out.”

A hush falls over the little room. You could hear a pin drop.

“…Are you complaining about the quality of the fabric we gagged you with?” the leader asks after a second.

“You may be yakuza, but you don’t have to act like savages,” you reply primly, aligning your knees together and sending a proud look off to the side.

“Ohh…little princess deserves better, does she?” Setsuno coos. He edges closer to rub his cheek against yours and laughs when you cringe away from him. “Boss, you shoulda seen her bedroom. All pink and frilly, looked like royalty lived there. Bet they treat you like a real princess at home, huh? No wonder your daddy’s in debt.”

“Daddy isn’t—“

“Your father…took out loans from my gang. My men came last night to collect,” the leader says, drumming his fingers over the armrest of his chair impatiently.

He’s wearing plastic gloves. Why is he wearing plastic gloves? Immediately your mind is spinning, imagining all the different gruesome possibilities of what they’re going to do to you. “That’s ridiculous. My daddy doesn’t need to borrow money—“

“Clearly he does, because it looks like he pissed it all away on his daughter.” The leader’s eyes are cold enough to make you shiver—although maybe that’s just the icy temperature of the floor soaking through your nightgown.

“He had a couple payments overdue, so we stopped by to ask nicely for him to pay up,” Setsuno says, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Didn’t find too many valuables in your house, but then we got our hands on a real treasure.”

“Don’t touch me—“

“You don’t seem to understand the position you’re in,” the leader says. “When I made my contract with your father, he understood that obligations like these are inherited. Since he can’t pay his debt, you’re going to be working it off in his place.”

Working it off? You swallow. Somehow you don’t think he’s talking about your little part-time job as a receptionist at your daddy’s company. “You can’t make me do that.”

“I’m not sure you’re getting the gist, princess,” Setsuno hums. “What we’re gonna do is we’re gonna put you in a room, and then men are gonna give us money, and then we’ll let those men fuck you. All that money’s gonna go toward paying what your daddy borrowed. Sound good?”

For the first time since you can remember, you’re shocked speechless. They’re going to…what? But you’re a quick thinker, and instead of letting these filthy, awful gangters boss you around, you raise your chin haughtily to look directly into the leader’s eyes. “I don’t think so. If Daddy’s the one who got himself in debt, you can make him whore himself out to pay it back. You can’t hold me responsible for something he’s done.”

Another brief silence, and then you hear a whistle echo out from the corner of the room (and you try not to look toward it, reminding yourself that this can only get worse if they know how scared you are). “She’s got a mouth on her, Overhaul,” someone says.

Overhaul. So the leader’s name is Overhaul. How ridiculous; it sounds like a villain’s name.

“Aww, princess,” Setsuno says, and once again his voice is too close for your comfort. “Little spoiled princess doesn’t know how to shut her mouth and suck it up when things don’t go her way? Well…you’ll learn.”

You don’t want to know what he’s talking about, although if you thought about it for more than a second it’d be obvious. You suck in a harsh breath and the cool, damp air stings against your dry throat. “You can’t just make me—“

“Ohh, I think we can. See, if your daddy’s been spending all of the Shie Hassaikai’s money on his precious daughter, don’t you think you owe a little too? Like, this dress—“ you jump as Setsuno’s hand tugs on the thin, floaty silk— “was bought with Overhaul’s money, so it belongs to him, right?”

You keep quiet, not wanting to prompt him to go further, but when his hands stroke up over your waist to grope your breasts in full view of everyone else in the room, you don’t really have to guess.

“And, y’know, your daddy’s been keeping you nice and healthy with Overhaul’s cash, making sure you grow up into such a pretty girl…” Setsuno’s voice is a purr in your ear as his hands squeeze your tits almost lovingly, then pinch your nipples through the fabric. “So hey—if you think about it, this tight little body…belongs to Overhaul too. Isn’t that right, sir?”

You squirm in place as best you can but with the metal cuffs digging into your wrists, there’s nothing you can do to get away from his touch. You’re desperate enough to shoot a terrified glance up at the leader—surely there are rules about treating an innocent girl like this, even for the yakuza—but he looks as unmoved as before. “Get her out of my sight. We’ll give her a rest for the next few days, and then…”

“No!” you yelp, too panicked to keep up the pretense of confidence. “I won’t, I can’t do that, please don’t make me—“

“Shhh. You’ll get used to it, princess. And if you don’t…” Setsuno’s hand combs though your hair and then trails down your neck, tracing the path of your spine between your shoulder blades. “…well, you won’t really have much of a choice, will you?”

And then he’s tugging on your cuffed hands, pulling you to a standing position, but you wriggle away from him and do everything you can to stay planted on the ground so they can’t take you away from here, away from the only man who is capable of stopping this. Overhaul. “Please! I’m— I can work it off another way! I’ll be useful— I’ll—“

Overhaul leans forward a fraction in his chair, and you wonder if you’ve caught his interest. “What, exactly? How do you think you can be useful to me?”

You bite your lip and wrack your brains, not knowing whether the question is rhetorical. What skills do you have that would be valuable to them? Suddenly all the knowledge you’ve gained in your short life seems so meaningless. You’re a decent receptionist (well, decent is a stretch), but if Overhaul wanted someone to answer calls for him you’re pretty sure he would’ve asked.

Why did you spend your life learning such impractical skills? The four-year weekend course you took on horseback riding jumps to mind and you want to hit your head against the wall. Why didn’t you ask your father to sponsor a class in something that would actually matter in the long run? And what would even be useful to these people? Accounting? Bookkeeping? Extortion?

There’s nothing valuable you can offer. You’ve wasted your life, and now you’re going to pay for it. Seriously, the only thing you’re actually good at is keeping your boyfriends (or, rather, the men you cycle through once a month) happy until the novelty wears off and you get bored and move on to the next lovesick target—

—wait. Keeping your boyfriends happy. That’s a skill, isn’t it?

Once, a little bit after you turned eighteen, you’d had a rather illicit conversation with one of your more sexually adventurous friends about being a sugar baby. Your friend had just secured a very generous benefactor, and you’d been so intrigued by all the designer purses and vacations to Cabo that you’d almost considered trying it for yourself. She’d even helped you set up a profile on Seeking Arrangements that listed your physical features and interests, but you’d blanched when it came time to post photos.

“But why do men even like this?” you'd asked your friend after your picture-less profile received its dozenth unsolicited offer. “Rich, successful guys shouldn’t have so much trouble finding girlfriends that they have to resort to paying for sex.”

“It’s a power trip,” she’d replied. “Most men never get the chance to have a woman who’s willing to do and be whatever he wants, whenever he wants it. You’re his ideal girlfriend, his therapist, his wife, and his stress relief all in one.”

At the time, you’d decided against it, deleting your profile and telling your friend you’d rather just keep taking advantage of your real father doting on you than have to fake orgasms for rich men in their 50’s. But back then, you’d had a choice; now that you’ve been kidnapped by a gang who wants you to get fucked by a bevy of strangers to pay off a debt you’ve never even heard of, you no longer have the privilege of a way out. Or, at least, the options are a lot less appealing than before.

You tilt your head back to Overhaul, eyeing him for the first time with real scrutiny instead of prideful disgust. Judging from what you can see of his face under the ornate bird mask (and again, what is with the freaking bird masks?), he’s fairly young, mid-twenties at the oldest. Short, sort of wavy dark hair (you’ve always had a thing for dark hair), a trim suit and tie, and those eyes. Like he can read your mind just looking at you.

He’s…handsome enough, you have to admit to yourself. But it’s not just that. There’s something pristine about him, something untouchable that commands discipline. He’s clean. You and him are probably the only clean things in this hovel of a room.

“Well? I’m waiting,” Overhaul says.

And now that you’ve got the idea in your head, it’s almost too embarrassing to meet his gaze. But you can do this; you have to do this. At least it’ll be your choice, and—you’re hoping—it’ll be better than the alternative.

“I could be yours,” you tell him, taking pride in the fact that your voice isn’t breaking.

His eyes narrow and you think god, his eyelashes are long. It’s not fair. Men never appreciate having long eyelashes. What is he thinking? Is he going to kill you for even suggesting it? But it’s too late now…you have to dig yourself a little deeper if you don’t want to go through with their original plan for debt fulfillment.

You force your muscles to relax, knowing this’ll be impossible to pull off if you’re tense and biting down on the words like they’re going to choke you. If you’re going to make him believe it, you have to make yourself believe it too. “You… This job must be hard. Even for a—a powerful man like you, it has to be stressful, right? Always looking out for the interests of the gang instead of your own…needs.”

Overhaul doesn’t move, but you’re so focused on him it would be impossible for you to miss the way a single muscle in his neck flexes. You’ve hit a nerve.

You take a cautious step toward him, trying to channel the sexually-liberated vixen you consider yourself when you’re not in your nightgown surrounded by men who could murder you with their bare hands and not miss a minute of sleep. “You’re always giving, aren’t you? Looking toward the future of the gang? Doesn’t it get frustrating when—when a pretty thing is in front of you and you don’t even get…a little taste of her?”

Oh god, you can feel the humiliated heat rushing to your cheeks. How can you be saying this? You’ve played the role of seductress plenty of times before, but never in such a risky situation. You just have to keep moving toward him and hope it feels authentic enough to convince him.

“You’ve worked hard. And…like he said, my—my body belongs to you.” Now you’re close enough to Overhaul and he hasn’t stopped you, so you lower yourself onto the floor, knees bumping softly into the cold surface. Kneeling between his legs.

Overhaul stares down at you, gaze as sharp and cold as before—and you’re sick with anxiety, so scared you can feel your hairs raising up on end—but if he wanted you to stop, he would have said something, right? So you shuffle a little closer and nuzzle your cheek over the inside of his clothed thigh like a kitten, then raise your head up to him to give him your best bedroom look, the one that says, I want you. I need you. No one but you. The look no man has ever been able to resist.

“…You deserve something to yourself, sir,” you murmur.

There’s a collective intake of breath as every person in the room simultaneously realizes what you’re offering. Overhaul’s expression doesn’t change, but once again, a tendon jumps out white under the skin of his throat and there’s a creak of latex on leather as his grip on the arm of the chair tightens.

“Damn,” Setsuno says under his breath from behind you. Someone whistles. You’re pretty sure you hear the word ‘slut’ being tossed around, but there’s reverence behind it.

“And what makes you think you’re so valuable?” Overhaul asks.

You close your eyes to ground yourself for a second. He’s interested, you know that much. You’ve never really had to convince someone to want you, but there’s a first time for everything. Besides, you only have to look at him for a second to know he does want you, which isn’t a surprise. Who wouldn’t?

“I’ll do anything you want, be anything you want,” you tell him, echoing your conversation with your friend back then. “Take out your anger on me if that’s what you’re into. When you’re tired of me, you can consider my debt paid and let me go.”

“And?” he prompts.

‘And’? And what? You’re offering yourself to him, your body and your mind—what more can he possibly ask from you? You cast your thoughts around, wondering what else you have to give him. “And…and I’ll do it willingly. You, um—you look like a man who appreciates obedience.”

And that’s it. Your last shred of pride is gone. Not only are you offering yourself up to a man to use as his personal stress doll, you’re saying you’ll be compliant every step of the way. Knowing yourself, you’re pretty sure that’s impossible, but you just need to make him believe it long enough for you to find a way out of here. You can pretend to enjoy getting fucked by a gangster a few times. You’ll live.

But you’re naive. And with the stream of thoughts pushing through your head, you never really consider one thing, one essential thing: how you look pleading up at him in that pale pink nightdress—soft, pure, immaculate against the filth of the underworld, the only clean body that Overhaul’s seen in a long time.

And you’re right. He is a man who appreciates obedience.

“Willingly…so you’d be willing to prove it.”

Your head jerks up and down in response. Yes! He’s taking the bait, now I just have to get him alone and—

“Then demonstrate.”

When a moment passes and you don’t move, Overhaul tips his head to the side, gaze still locked on you, and gestures vaguely at his lap. You blink and then shy back, shrinking under the hungry gazes of the onlookers. “You can’t mean—in front of them?”

“And here I thought you were going to be obedient.” There’s no mercy, no amusement in his voice. No hint of humanity.

So he’s serious. He wants you to give him a blowjob in front of—how many? one, two three, four—four other men!? Your first instinct is to jump back away from him and your next is to slap him for even suggesting it; you can actually hear the jingle of your cuffs as you attempt to raise your hand. You’ve gotten a little kinky before—blindfolds, vibrators, maybe a hand tied to the bedpost with a Hermès scarf once or twice, but this is a whole different level. And the way they’re all looking at you…like they’re itching to see you brought down. How absolutely disgusting.

But Overhaul’s waiting for your answer, and you know full well that you’re not going to deny him.

“O-Of course.” You lean forward over the seat of the chair so your face is just inches from his lap. “Um. My hands...?”

They’re still cuffed behind you, but it seems like they’re going to stay that way when Overhaul gives a curt shake of his head. “Use your mouth.”

Once again, you’re stunned into silence. How are you supposed to—? Without your hands? It doesn’t even seem like he’s going to undo his pants for you. It’s like he wants to humiliate you…oh, wait. As soon as the thought crosses your mind, it’s clear that’s exactly what he’s trying to do.

You give him another doe-eyed glance, bidding him to at least undo his belt, but he remains unmoved. Bastard.

After aiming another glare at him (because as obedient as you’re attempting to be, you’ve never been good at concealing your emotions) you lean deeper in and take the stiff leather of his belt between your teeth, gently easing it out of the buckle and trying to ignore the mixture of earthy and metallic tastes it leaves on your tongue. It takes a few tries, but eventually you’ve got the tail of the belt out of the buckle and you pull your head back to guide the metal down until the belt is hanging open from its loops.

A rush of accomplishment surges through you when you get it open, and then you want to slap yourself. Accomplishment? From doing this with your mouth like an animal—like a dog? You can hear laughter and mocking encouragement from the men watching, but you steel yourself and dip back in to get Overhaul’s pants undone. The button is tricky, especially with your face nudging into the hard muscle of his abdomen through his shirt, but somehow you manage to tug the fabric slit over the button and then—delicately, delicately—clamp the zipper between your teeth and peel it downward.

“Oh, she’s good,” someone says from the background. Setsuno. You look up warily, but Overhaul’s eyes haven’t moved from you.

Now that you’ve got his pants open, you’re face to face (literally) with what you’re going to have to deal with. The outline of his cock is bulging the fabric of his boxers outward, and he’s not even half erect. You snatch a look back up at him—and damn it, you have to stop doing that, because every time you look into those golden eyes and that stupid bird mask you feel like a lamb looking at a bird of prey right before it snatches you from your safe little lamb-house in the meadow and—fuck, you just have to get on with it.

So you dip down and mouth over him through the fabric, spreading the flat of your tongue over the length of his thick cock. Your mouth feels like you’ve been eating cotton (probably because they drugged you earlier) but you force yourself to salivate, letting drool spill over your tongue and dampen his boxers. When you duck and spread your lips down on the place you can feel the tip stretching out, you know the friction must feel good, because despite the lack of even so much of a deep breath from the man above you, his cock is getting harder.

You nudge your mouth over the tent between Overhaul’s legs again, letting the heat of your breath wash over him—but when he doesn’t do anything, you pull back and blink up at his face. Does he expect you to get him off through his underwear? You could, but most of your moves depend on skin-to-skin contact. There’s no way you can get his cock out with your mouth like you undid his pants, so…what? “Are—are you going to take it out?”

Overhaul brings a gloved hand to his face to rub absently at one of the straps on his mask. “…Beg,” he tells you.

Your mouth drops open and you reel back from his lap like he asked you to lick the dirt off the floor. What!? He can’t seriously expect you to—to beg him to put his dick in your mouth when you’re clearly disgusted at the whole situation. When he doesn’t give any indication of retracting the statement, you can’t help the mocking sneer that forms over your face. “Please, sir,” you spit, and a deaf man could hear the spite in your voice.

Now, that gets a reaction. Overhaul’s eyes flash and you take a certain degree of pride back at the anger you’ve clearly inspired in him. But it’s extinguished as soon as you see it, and then he’s reaching down to cup your chin, tilting your head back and rubbing his thumb over your lower lip.

“I think you can do better than that, princess,” he says, and you can hear your own mocking tone reflected back in his voice. “Unless you’d like me to give my men a turn?”

This, more than anything, scares you. He must be able to feel the way your spine goes stiff, adrenaline rushing, your fight-or-flight instinct kicking in at the prospect of what he’s threatening.

“Each of them, one by one. Between the four of them, I think they could cure that smart mouth…although they might just break you in the process,” he continues, and then his thumb is pressing into your lip, into your mouth, and you loosen your jaw to let him in. You can taste the rubbery latex of his gloves and the other men mutter agreement, encouraging their leader to turn you over to them, and you want to cry.

But you hold the tears back. “Please, sir! Please, please may I s-suck your cock sir? Please!” Your voice is more terrified than obedient, but that’s probably what he’s into anyway. When he doesn’t say anything, you babble on, unwilling to let yourself get gangbanged by a group of men who could probably wreck your pussy in a single round. “Please, please, Mr.—Mr. Overhaul, um, boss? M-Master?”

“Sir will do just fine,” Overhaul says, apparently satisfied, and he pulls his hand away from your face to free his cock from his boxers.

You let out a hot sigh of relief and angle yourself back toward his lap so you can zero in on his cock (and, hopefully, do a little to block out how sickeningly degrading all of this is: how easy it is for him to threaten you; how he has all the power and you have none; how the men around you are goading you, taunting you and calling you things that should get their mouths washed out with soap). You can focus on this, and this, at least, you’re good at. You’ve always been good with your mouth.

It’s a nice dick, too, you have to admit to yourself as you stare at it. Perfect length, girth, and a thick, cut head that you know just by looking that you’re going to have to stretch your jaw to get around. All his hair is neatly trimmed and groomed, and he even smells good, clean and fresh like soap. You’ve never been in front of a dick that didn’t smell like day-old ball sweat, so this is a first. It’s got a nice upward curve, too, and there’s a bead of pearly precum oozing out of the tip. The kind of cock that’s made for penetrative orgasms—

No. Fuck. You cannot be thinking this. You cannot allow yourself to lust after a gang leader who thinks of you as little more than an interactive sex doll. A tingle of blood rushes to your cheeks as you feel wetness pool in your panties and you adjust your stance, shuffling your thighs apart under the pretense of getting closer and hoping Overhaul doesn’t notice.

If he notices, he does the merciful thing and keeps quiet (which makes you think he has no idea you’re feeling the way you’re feeling, because he’s probably never chosen to do the merciful thing in his life). He does, however, shift one of his knees farther apart to accommodate you as you crawl close enough to him to get your head all the way between his legs.

So now you’re staring up at that unfairly pretty cock and wondering how the fuck this is supposed to start, but—best just get on with it. Pretend it’s not him, pretend it’s…no, wait, pretend it is him, it is Overhaul, the same bastard who’s looking down at you like you’re trash, except pretend you’re in control. Because no matter how many orders he gives, once you’ve got his cock in his mouth he’ll have to be the weak one. Right?

Lightly, slowly, you trace the tip of your tongue in a wet path up the underside of his cock, sliding up from the hilt to caress every bulging vein with all the delicacy and accuracy of a surgeon. When you reach the tip, you flatten your tongue to curve it around that bulbous head and then slip it off, the suction providing a wet smacking sound as your skin leaves his.

The breath of his barely-heavier exhale ruffles your hair and you relish the knowledge that he’s getting impatient. Yes. The bastard can wait.

You kiss the tip of his cock, barely moving your lips around the slit, only enough to let your tongue flick out against the precum and gather the bitter liquid up in your mouth. And then—right when he’s getting annoyed, when you can tell by the tension in his body that he’s five seconds away from shoving your head down to fuck your face—you duck closer, relax your throat, and swallow.

Like a fucking python. Or so you’ve been told.

The exhale that escapes him isn’t light this time. You can almost hear the barest hint of a groan under his breath, but you’re more focused on holding down your gag reflex as you let that heavy cock hit the back of your throat. Once he’s all the way down (or at least as far as you can get him), you rock yourself back an inch and then take him deeper, forcing yourself to hold still so he can feel the walls of your throat convulse around him, sucking him in, dry-gagging on the mass that’s filling you up.

“Fuuuuck,” you hear someone whine, and it’s not even Overhaul. It’s one of the men watching, and you feel a perverse mixture of hatred and arrogance rise up in you.

Overhaul’s cock is too big for you to properly moan around it, but you give it a go anyway so he can feel the vibration of your voice through his skin. You’re rewarded with a tangible twitch with it sitting on your tongue, and—oh—your mouth is watering out of where you’re clenching down on him at the back of your throat.

Spittle slips out over your lower lip and onto your chin, but you ignore it in favor of jerking your head up and down in fractional strokes, trying your absolute best to get yourself down to his base but knowing that he probably doesn’t give a shit anyway, not with how good your throat feels around what you’re capable of stuffing in.

What were you saying about ‘valuable’, sir? you think, and then you pull your head off his cock, so slow it’s almost cruel, sucking your cheeks in and hollowing out so those wet walls are rubbing up on every millimeter of his skin. When you reach the tip, you savor it, letting your tongue do the dirty work and looking up at him through your lash extensions before you release him with a nasty wet pop.

“Holy fuck, can I have her next?” one of the other men says, but you and Overhaul are too focused on each other to even look and see who’s talking.

His gaze is trained firmly down at you, and—no way, damn it—he looks bored, like he could be waiting in line at the DMV instead of getting sucked off by you, a girl who’s been complimented by every man she’s ever been with (including her first) on her bj technique. You know he’s feeling it—he can fake calm, but he can’t fake the way his cock’s throbbing under your tongue as you lick up the shaft. Still, now that you’ve got it in your head that Overhaul’s not going to make a sound, all you can think about is forcing him to moan. Let him look weak in front of all his little lackeys.

With renewed vigor, you lap up the length of Overhaul’s cock in sloppy dabs, leaving strings of saliva dripping off your mouth and his cock only to slurp them up, audibly, wiggling your tongue over the tip when you reach it. And that, that gets him, because you feel more than see the buck of his hips into your face as he hisses out a curse.

And—oh dear, maybe you shouldn’t have done that—because the next thing you feel is Overhaul looming forward over you, hand gripping the back of your head, and is he going to force you down? You hate that—so you take the initiative, tilting forward to take him into your mouth again, head bobbing up and down so quickly that your hair is falling all over your face, but it’s okay, because he’s got you, he’s got you, got his hands combed through your hair holding it out of your face, pulling so lightly it barely even hurts, but it does hurt, and he’s guiding you up and down on his cock and it’s hitting the back of your throat every time, and—and it hurts.

You really shouldn’t have done that.

“Take it deeper,” Overhaul instructs, almost encouraging, although you’re not given the option to pull off because he’s holding you down, pushing you firmly toward the base of his cock. You sputter around it, gagging, and you’re almost fucking choking, and he won’t let you up.

God, you’re not—not breathing, you can feel your throat choking down on him—“breathe through your nose,” he says, and this man, this villain has no idea what he’s fucking talking about, because you’re trying, eyes stinging and then you can feel tears down your cheeks. You try to squirm back on your knees, but somehow the combined force of every muscle in your body is outmatched by his single hand on the back of your head—and—and—you squeeze your eyes shut, relax, open your throat as much as you can and—

Overhaul forces your mouth down to the hilt.

Fuck, is he going to keep you there? You can’t, you can’t—if you could move, you’d be shaking your head and begging him to let you stop and as it is you’re whimpering around his cock. Your throat is making gagging noises and you’re crying, actually crying, actually fucking crying on a man’s dick. So this is what it feels like to be used?

“Good.” There’s something lower and darker in Overhaul’s voice, a husky undertone from the growl he’s trying to suppress. “Hold still…remember, you asked for this.”

You did. You asked for it. Begged for it. Pleaded.

“Want me to forgive your father’s debt…? You’re going to have to earn it.” He pulls out an inch just to ram himself back in. You make a weak attempt to move your tongue around his shaft and you can feel the shudder all the way through him, his cock twitching where it’s locked in your throat. “Mm…good girl. Just a little—little longer—“

His fingers are tightening in your hair, curling around the strands and tugging instead of just applying pressure to your head. He’s close, you think, and then you struggle back, not wanting him to cum down your throat, what if you choke on it? Like, really choke? You don’t want it, don’t want his cum in your stomach, but then he sighs and tells you again that you’re a good girl, and ohfuckohfuck you must be so scared you’re desperate for praise because you feel heat rush into your cheeks and your cunt when he says it and you try to move your tongue like you did earlier and his hips jerk forward and—he cums. In your mouth.

It’s salty, you think. The next thing you think is that you want to gag, because you’ve never had cum in your mouth before. For all your sexual experimentation, you’ve never let a man cum down your throat like this, always telling them it shoot it on your tits or whatever because you are not a person who should have semen in her mouth, much less ingest it.

But right now, with Overhaul lazily dragging your head up and down for a last couple pumps on his softening dick, your choice isn’t spit or swallow. It’s swallow or choke.

Hot. Thick. The texture is slimy, so viscous you can feel it going down your throat in strings. Part of you wants to throw up. It’s repulsive. Filthy. You hate this.

Part of you has to shift your position again so you don’t have to feel your own wetness slicking up the insides of your thighs.

How. Is. This. Possible. You may have just had to swallow your pride (and not just that), but what about your dignity? You’re a good person…okay, well, even if you’re not a ‘good person’ per se, you don’t hurt anyone with your selfishness. You don’t deserve to be kept as a pet by a sadistic bastard who gets off on watching you almost pass out on his cock, and you certainly don’t deserve the humiliation of finding that you’re turned on by it.

And yet. Here you are. Still held securely in place until Overhaul slides you off him. As soon as your mouth is free you suck in a dizzyingly deep breath, but even that is too much for your battered throat and the breath turns into a cough; you instinctively fold down away from Overhaul so the mixed saliva and cum you’re hacking out spatters in cloudy white flecks across the floor instead of on his clothing.

“Stop that,” Overhaul scolds, hauling you back up by your hair and forcing your mouth closed with a hand on your jaw. “If you make a mess, you’ll be cleaning it up.”

Considering what he just made you do to him, there’s no doubt in your mind that he’s implying you’ll have to lick it off the floor. You clench your jaw, holding back the convulsions of your throat as best you can, and hope he doesn’t press the issue.

Now that you’ve got your coughing under control, you can start to sense things that you had been tuning out before: the men hooting and wolf-whistling and applauding your performance, the traitorously persistent throb of your clit pulsing under your panties, and Overhaul’s hand releasing your chin to pet down your neck. “Now. What do you say when someone gives you a meal?”

Just you wait, bastard. I’m going to tie you to your bed and set fire to it. But you’ve got the sense that that answer won’t go over well, so you take a deep breath and look up at him again, meeting those piercing gold eyes with your own. “Thank you, sir,” you say in a soft whisper because it’s all your abused throat can manage.

“That’s right.” His hands feel colder than the concrete under your legs as he spreads his hand down your neck, only to toy with one of the lacy pink straps of your nightdress. “Stand up.”

You stand shakily, too cowed to even consider stepping back from him. Without warning (much less permission), Overhaul lifts the hem of your stupidly short dress up past your thighs, exposing your panties and lower belly to view.

“Hold this in your mouth,” he says, and after only a few seconds of hesitation you open up and bite down on the fabric so you’re effectively holding up the skirt for him. Overhaul skims gloved hands down the sides of your hips and comes to a rest when he reaches your panties—and why did you have to wear these today? Shiny red satin in the front; the back is just flowers worked in crimson lace. You know exactly how good you look in these panties, and judging by the things Overhaul’s men are saying, they’re more than appreciative of the view.

But Overhaul ignores them in favor of hooking his fingers under the elastic and pulling the panties down until they’re resting stretched between your upper thighs. You don’t have to see them to know there’s a string of slick connecting the lips of your cunt to the fabric, betraying in full technicolor detail how turned on you’ve gotten just from sucking him off. He gazes down at your pussy and then up to you as if waiting for you to admit it, but you stay silent.

“Well, well. What a nicely-trained slut I’ve found myself.” He gracelessly pulls the panties the rest of the way down your legs and lets them fall to the ground. “Do you always get this wet when you let your boyfriends fuck that smart mouth?”

It takes you a second to comprehend that he’s expecting an answer. “N-No, sir,” you reply, voice muffled by the fabric you’re still holding between your teeth.

“I suppose I can’t leave you like this, not after you took me so nicely.”

Does he mean he’s going to get you off? No freaking way. You drop the hem of your dress, let it flutter down over your thighs, try to scramble back, but his hand on your waist keeps you from moving. “I— It’s okay, I don’t need—“

“No, I think you do. I think I’m going to reward my pet for a job well done.” He leans back, eyeing you without sympathy. “I’d have you touch yourself, but—“

The mere possibility that he might remove the handcuffs has you straining against them again, and the sound of metal against metal rings out from behind you.

“—but, I think it’s best to keep the cuffs on for a few days…until you’ve settled down.”

Days? He can’t leave you in chains for days, helpless and powerless, so easy to take advantage of. “You can’t,” you whimper, and even though you mean for it to be a decisive statement, with your throat ravaged and hoarse it’s downright pathetic. Overhaul doesn’t even bother reprimanding you for talking back.

“My men have been patient,” he muses, and an enthusiastic wave of agreement wells up from the others. “Any of them would be happy to do it.”

You may have been through a lot in the past hour alone, but there is no way you’re going to let those rowdy criminals have their way with you. You send a nervous glance around the room and as predicted, not a single one of them looks like they have the slightest shred of control over themselves.

None of them…except Overhaul.

Still eased back in his chair, he looks just as relaxed and unaffected as he did when he was explaining your father’s debts to you. But there’s something flickering in his eyes, something he isn’t going to say to you, isn’t going to say out loud. A challenge.

Maybe, once again, he’s waiting for you to ask for it yourself. And if it’s a choice between him and one of the grimy ruffians who’ve been looking at you like dogs look at meat, you know what you’d prefer. Well—really, you’d prefer option C: none of the above (your current state might be uncomfortable, but you’re not so wanton that you’d rather cum in front of strangers than keep your legs together). Unfortunately, you’re starting to come to terms with the fact that ‘no’ is no longer an option.

Overhaul’s stare flicks from you to an unseen figure behind you, and you can tell he’s about to summon one of them over so you force yourself to move, lurching forward and climbing into his lap to straddle one of his thighs with all the grace you’re capable of. You feel the stir in the air when he inhales sharply, surprised, and his masked face is so close to your neck that you wonder if he can smell the lotion you put on before you went to bed last night.

It’s one of your favorite scents: vanilla, lilac, orange blossoms. You bought it because it smelled pure.

“Please, sir, I don’t want them,” you breathe next to his ear, injecting every ounce of sexual frustration you’re feeling into the needy tones of your voice. “I’m yours. I belong to you, just you. No one else—please, sir…Overhaul.”

He’s quiet for a long, tense moment, and you think he’s going to hit you, or maybe even kill you for your disobedience. Push you off his lap at least. But just when you’re teetering on the edge of jumping back from him and begging for forgiveness for talking out of turn, you feel it—a low rumble of laughter from deep in his chest.

Big, cold hands wrap around the sides of your ribcage under your breasts and his fingernails dig into you through the layers of latex and fabric. He tilts forward, forcing you to arch away and all you can think about is how horribly weak you are compared to him. Are you trembling? Will he be angry if you feels how afraid you are?

“You know, I guess I’ll keep you after all,” he hums, stroking his fingers through your hair and down your neck. “How does that sound, princess? I think you’d like that very much, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, sir.” The response comes all too easily, even if the words taste bitter in your mouth. You’ve never said the word ‘sir’ so much in your life…but as he repositions you on his lap and slides a single hand up the inside of your thigh under your dress, you bite your lip and decide to hold back your protest.

If you’re going to have to learn manners, you’d better do it sooner rather than later. Something tells you Overhaul’s not going to accept any less than your best behavior if you want to pay off your debt.

[juyoens]

coffee, waffles, & the boy next door | eric sohn

summary: you’re not really into this whole adulting thing yet, but now you have two things to look forward to: the new guy next door who keeps jokingly asking you to dinner every time you see each other, and the person who found out they’ve been unintentionally stealing your favorite waffles at the cafe and has started telling the baristas to leave notes on your coffee being all cocky about it. pairing: eric sohn x gn!reader ft. some tbz members making cameos pairing: slice of life, romance :p warnings: you & co. def say ‘fuck’ at some point, you and eric are kind of crazy, horrible attempt at comedy

It’s been over a year since you moved into your new apartment, which has you over the moon because 1. You live alone now and you can do whatever you want, and 2. It makes you totally feel like a legit adult….if such a term even exists.

And as for the third reason, well…..

“Y/N!” The cheerful, hearty voice that always greets you as you make your way back from work belongs to Eric Sohn, your next door neighbor.

“Hey! D’you have a good day?” you plastered a smile on your face once you turned to him. Ever since you moved in he has always greeted you, some days even helping you carry your groceries inside since he knows you live alone.

The routine of asking each other about how your days went had gotten you two standing outside your apartment doors for like 30 minutes while you just kind of….awkwardly held onto your key already inside the keyhole.

But you were always so immersed into your conversations with Eric, having the positive energy of someone so funny and cheerful constantly around you be such a contrast to your days at work where you’re still trying to get the hang of things. In summary, you’ve grown fond of your neighbor. Your really really really cute neighbor.

There’s always this one line that he says though that catches you off guard each time.

“What if....you went to dinner with me?" jokingly, of course.

You’re not sure how he even manages to casually slip that in each time and why he does so jokingly, but it always ends in the two of you bursting out into laughter before waving goodnight and getting inside your respective apartments.

“They’re clearly interested, who the fuck asks that everyday?” a co-worker of yours, Chanhee, says with simple directness as the two of you walk inside the nearby cafe before heading to work.

“There’s no…..way. Fuck!" your smile slips as soon as you reach the display of pastries, seeing your favorite waffles filled to the brim with cream, gone, once again. Just like every other day.

It shouldn’t piss you off this much, but the baristas know about your whole struggle and have told the person who keeps getting them ahead of you all about it, leading to them having the baristas leave messages for them whenever they hand out your coffee.

Chanhee simply lets out a chuckle as you let out a gloomy sigh. The usual barista working the morning shift and the reason behind this weird waffle war starting, Younghoon, gives you an awkward grin as you walk up to the counter.

“The usual, Younghoon. Thanks.” you order, and he doesn’t say anything and just gets to work with it. You watch with an annoyed look as you watch him place the post-it note on your coffee cup.

“Well, well, what’s it gonna be this time,” Chanhee mocks as Younghoon hands over the cup to you. “Thanks….Younghoon.” you force a smile at him, and he simply shrugs. “You were just late by 2 minutes, y’know.”

“We really shouldn’t have stopped in the middle of the sidewalk just to talk about my cute neighbor,” you turn to Chanhee with a disappointed look.

“There are other waffles in the city, you know that right?”

“It’s not like this one though.”

Chanhee rolls his eyes at you at how ridiculous and funny he found this whole situation, while you look down at your coffee cup and take the sticky note off.

I won again! You should get here earlier, they sell out fast, if you haven’t figured that out yet ;)

“I do know that!” you huff, and Chanhee nudges you to tell you that you just said that out loud and now the people behind you are just giving you weird looks, but you completely ignore that and just get out of there.

The day passes by with you forgetting the whole thing like you usually do, and you write a mental note to yourself that you’ll be there earlier tomorrow, which, you’ve wrote so many of that your brain is on overload with the same note being written every single day only for you to not succeed and get that damn waffle every morning.

There’s something good to look forward to, at least.

“Y/N!” The familiar voice is like music to your ears at this point. “We seem to always get off work at the same time, no?” he chuckles.

“How was your day? I don’t really have much to tell on my part, but there’s this really funny person who keeps trying to get the waffle at the cafe across the street from where I work, and I do feel bad but also those are my favorite so I’ve just found it fun to leave them-”

“What?” your eyes widen and your voice raises at him, cutting off his babbling. "That was you?!”

Eric drew his eyebrows for a second in confusion, before terror overtook his face as soon as he realised what you were implying.

“Y-You….Oh my god. That was you, Y/N?”

“I asked you that first! You mean to tell me I’ve been so friendly with the guy who's been stealing my waffles for the past months?!”

“I didn’t steal them!”

The two of you bicker, your voices echoing through the halls before some guy named Sunwoo peeks his head out his apartment door and tells you two to shut the fuck up or at least lower your voices.

Now with your little argument interrupted, the two of you mutter your apologies to the poor guy before turning back to one another in awkward silence, unsure how to return to it.

After a few seconds of silence, you tried to stifle a laugh, before bursting out into laughter. “What?”

“We just...argued about waffles.” you breathed out, making Eric burst into a fit of laughter with you.

Your neighbors probably think the two randos who were just loudly arguing about waffles and now laughing like maniacs in the hallway are batshit insane, but you two couldn’t even care less about that right now.

“Ok, well, I’m really sorry about the notes thing. I promise tomorrow I’ll let you have it. If only I had known that was you….” he says, making the effort to sound assuring.

“It’s fine. I don’t care now that I know who’s been doing that,” you assured, letting out a chuckle. But then, a bright idea. This was your chance to get that dinner that you wanted.

“Although,” you begin, Eric’s head suddenly jerking back in your direction. “Since you’ve been jokingly asking me to dinner all this time, you should get on that for compensation.”

Eric grins. “That wasn’t a joke at all. I just kept doing it since you…..kept laughing it off."

Great. Good to know you both are crazy and really fucking oblivious.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. As payment for that, I’ll be getting the waffle again tomorrow.”

[fuck-customers]

Today a customer wanted to sign up for a store card and left her wallet in the card. I told her I’d need her I.D. for her to apply and she said she’d be RIGHT back. Idk what she was doing, but I ended up helping a couple of more customers in line because she took about 20 minutes to come back.

I was still helping another customer when she finally came back and was inconsiderate af, pushing her huge cart in the way of everyone trying to exit. And bumping into other customers with it as she tried to force her way behind the person I was helping.

At our store the card reader tells you literally everything step by step to type in to sign up for a store card. So I told her to just read the screen and I’d need her I.D. at the end. I had a few new employees working with me, so I was helping them while she was signing up for the store card.

Unfortunately she kept calling me over to complain because she didn’t want to put in her email, social security number or create a PIN for the store card 🙄 But the question that stood out most was when she asked me “How do I type seventeen hundred, it has three zeros right?”

I looked at her screen and she typed in “17000” I told her she’d have to backspace to take a zero off, if she wanted it to be 17 HUNDRED because with three zeros it was 17 THOUSAND. She kept asking me “Are you SURE?!” Rolling her eyes and muttering that she had it right the first time. Then added back the third zero when I deleted it for her to make it 1700 and told me 17000 was correct.

At the end when I needed her I.D. she gave me a Military one and I still needed her address and drivers license number. Which made her mad and she complained that “I thought I could use ANY I.D.!!!”

I apologized and told her it’s just the type of I.D. our system takes. So she starts looking for her drivers license and I SEE it in her wallet. But she ends up putting her wallet back in her purse and just stared at me like I can somehow skip her I.D. info. And snaps at me “WELL, did you PUT it in YET?!”

At that point I really didn’t want to deal with her anymore and told her I STILL needed her drivers license to key in her information. So she dramatically hands it to me and finally I signed her up for the store card. My coworker was waiting the entire time I was helping her, to use the register to help another customer once I was done with her.

She SEES my coworker walk over and the customer come closer, waiting on her ass to move. I’m about to walk away because she has EVERYTHING she needs and I already explained the store card to her. She for whatever reason wanted to be PETTY and snapped at me “I WANT TO MAKE A PAYMENT!!”

My coworker rolls his eyes and tells her “You can’t make a payment until you have the PHYSICAL card. Our system won’t let us do it with a temporary one” So she gets smart with him and says “Well HOW do you know?! You can’t even TRY?!”

Who the hell makes a payment as soon as they sign up for a card?! My coworker went ahead and tried for her and of course it didn’t work because she had nothing to insert into the card reader. So she finally moved out of the way for the next person, but didn’t give them enough room and basically stood in the way for a few minutes before finally leaving.

Do you seriously have nothing better to do, than get in everyone’s way and keep being rude to employees?

[a-partofthemob]

shinigami taxi: final thoughts

before getting into it all, i wanna thank @katyatalks for translating the game they have contributed so much to the mp100 fandom with the translations of the game AND of the stageplays!! i loved the second stageplay and really excited to watch the third one but onto shinigami taxi

im in love with the illustrations, the premise, the dialogue, EVERYTHING. it is a very one and done kind of thing but that's normal for games with multiple endings and stuff, it was worth it though, i'd sell my soul to get to experience it again though.

spoilers for shinigami taxi under the cut!!

teru's story is nice, i like that his parents are living somewhere near unlike in canon where they're just not present at all, and that he spends time with them, he needs a parental figure for god's sake he's 14, and left to live alone at like what 11? jesus he needs to be parented. his escape from the taxi is VERY thrilling, and the art for the scene?? FANTASTIC. makes me wonder what if teru hadn't been able to escape? leaves me pondering for a while

the story from the library, it was something, didnt make me feel any particular emotions but the part where the guy got to the hospital? and the driver said that payment was not needed?? and the mom taking her last breath just in time for the guy to arrive?? AND THEN THE TAXI HAS HIS MOM IN THE BACKSEAT??? i love these types of stories

kamuro's story though. oh my god he needs therapy. the carefree yet heartbreaking mentions of his family, he's used to them not caring about him, it's sad. and the part where he comes across the taxi?? and scared shitless and having to distract himself because of his anxious and spiraling thoughts? relatable. then the door opening and my heart dropped, the soundtrack right in my ears, it made me hyperventilate god it was so scary, it made me want to pause and take a breather bc i was scared shitless for kamuro, but i didn't and kept reading to not cut myself from the experience. it had me panicking for him, the music in the background making me feel like i AM him in the situation, then the door opening sound? my heart dropped

the good ending illustration had me SCARED, downright SCARED because they were all outlined with white and were heading into the light, and it made me think, "Oh god they're all dead" but i convinced myself that no they're not dead they're just walking away, but do tell me if they are in fact actually dead because i'm still on the fence

the bad ending was devastating, the choices made to achieve it, it feels like with mob not going to reigen for the taxi and just staying in bed, it feels like he didn't Change, y'know? doing what he's told to do despite the warning bells in his mind, but i dont know if 'he didnt change' is the right phrase but yeah. being held hostage to act as fuel for the taxi? and the driver wearing the body of reigen?? poor mob

the true ending made me scared too because what if mob accidentally hurts or fatally injures reigen during the fight? but that wouldn't make sense overall so that kept me going, the illustration is IMMACULATE it feels like it was taken directly from the anime and EUGH THE EMOTIONS I FELT WHILE MOB GOES OVER 100%

i was fairly shocked to see a red button in the title screen after finishing all endings, and turns out it was the game in reigen's perspective, and it was just so in character. the script and narration was just so Him, y'know? you were seeing the story in Reigen's eyes, and the behavior, saving the client's boyfriend, telling the shinigami to go on and to not wait for Mob because he didn't want his student to get roped into the mess, him direct salt splashing the shinigami and making a run for it, only to end up being the shinigami's host.

the convenience store part in reigen's story was something i didn't pay attention to as much, i thought it was just a divergence like: What if Reigen escaped without Mob's help? but then he bought cigarettes and made me falter because reigen stopped smoking after mob became his student, maybe this would be a one time thing because of the stress? then WABAAM THE SHINIGAMI'S THERE

for the omakes, i love them so much, it made me smile and laugh, especially mezato's interview with the body improvement club, the telepathy club vs onigawara thing and inukawa looks like he couldn't be more bothered, and then kamuro and tokugawa's omake came up. tokugawa is a great friend, and does his best to help out kamuro, and kamuro not telling absolutely anyone his story with the shinigami taxi because of his reputation as the student council president? and the reactions of his family if he told them the story? it was just so heavy, the burden kamuro carries is heavy, and i'm happy that tokugawa is there to talk to him

end note:

Shinigami Taxi is very wonderful and would recommend for every mp100 fan to play it, the illustrations are immaculate, the background music chosen is very nice and makes you feel as if you're in the moment itself, the script written feels so in character, 100/10, i want to play it for the first time again

[zuluc]

anonymous requested: i've been thinking about what to request for the past 3 days and i think i've finally got it. can i ask for kaeya or diluc with a crush that's a depressed bard that always composes sad songs and lyrics? here's the twist, though. their songs and lyrics start to cheer up as the two of them become closer friends!

pairing: diluc x gn! reader

style & genre: written; fluff

warnings: none

notes: i decided to do diluc for this one because I think it’d have a great impact on him as a person as well, and i’m here for more fluff with him 🥰 i made the lyrics myself for the sake of this fic please go easy on me all i know about music is playing the violin/viola also this is long

i changed the prompt a bit if that’s alright!

“Who are you exactly?” Diluc eyes you strangely when you look at him with a blank stare. In one hand you have a notebook and in the other is a lyre. You walked in only moments ago, actively avoiding anyone’s eyes as they knew you weren’t from town. You just wanted to go straight to the owner of the tavern and hope to share what you had in that book of yours.

“A bard,” you say. You look around to see a few of the townspeople staring back while the others cheer happily with each other as if an exciting thing had happened. “Do you have room for a performance?”

Diluc raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms. You didn’t appear to have any double meaning or ill intention in your words, rather, your eyes were just void of any glint of mischief he usually saw in a certain person. But to waltz in one day and ask for something like this so casually, you really weren’t from there.

“Sure, just don’t steal anything.” He is skeptical of you as he is of any one else but you didn’t need to know that. You were used to it after all. He directs you to the side of the bar that was supposedly the “performance stage” but it didn’t matter. Anywhere was fine with you.

The townspeople gradually stop their chatter as you quickly tune your lyre, playing a chord once the strings were ready. The tune that escapes into the air effectively silences any remaining voices. The song you were going to start wasn’t one they would usually hear in this city of freedom and apparently cheerfulness.

Your fingers hook at the strings, releasing them with ease as a soulful melody fills the entire tavern. The chord was of the lower register and hummed deeply. Diluc flicks his eyes over to you as he cleans a glass and sees your own eyes are closed. 

When the night has passed

For then will I be free

Will they see me trample dust

Or let me keep my feet

Your book is open and he can see the words you were singing on the pages. It looks like you just started this line of work given how many pages were left in that book, assuming it was your only one as all you came in with were those two items and a small bag of mora. 

He doesn’t notice how much of an effect your song had until he scans over the tavern patreons. Your voice carries through, swaying through the people to where it grazes a piece of their hearts to reminisce forlorn memories. But your words felt soulful as if they had come from your own experiences. A thought passes over his head which causes his heart to pang before quickly shaking it off when he realizes the feeling.

Ah, so you were this type of bard. 

Diluc just thinks he’ll only see you one time so he lets the thought pass through.

Once your song ends the drunk townspeople cheer loudly among themselves. You are taken aback by all the noise but bow politely to them for their reaction. You take your things as they call out for you to do another song and you shake your head.

“Maybe another time,” you say with slight sorrow to your face or words. They accept the answer and continue on their night and when you turn to leave, Diluc can’t stop the words that come out of his mouth. 

“Why not stay for a drink?” You look at him incredulously and he crosses his arms, “Call it payment for your services. They seemed to enjoy it.” You make cautious movement as you make your way to a stool. Diluc sets out an apple cider vinegar drink and you sniff at it. Once you take a sip you notice his face at the corner of your sight. The edge of his lip is slightly quirked up as he sighs while cleaning a glass.

It seems they weren’t the only ones who enjoyed the song.

--

Mondstadt was a city that was very welcoming in comparison to all the other places you spent time at. The people were either unwilling to hear your music or had particular reactions to the pieces you shared. To them, it seemed you didn’t understand that bar music was supposed to be lively and something to dance to. Not something to feel sad about.

But you wanted to share it anyways for your songs are one of the few things in life that you are proud of. One of the few things that have filled the emptiness of yourself that you lost those years ago and maybe, just maybe, sharing them will help you feel in some way. To you, these songs are sorrowful, but they shouldn’t just make people sad. That’s why you were quite surprised at the reactions at Angel’s Share  as opposed to those from other places.

They should elicit emotions of nostalgia. Or maybe, you just hadn’t found the right experience to make them happier.

--

You come back a few nights later and Diluc is working the bar yet again. When he lifts his head, his shoulders sag in relief seeing that it is you. Venti had come by a few times after hearing about you and kept pressing the owner about letting him on the stage as well. 

He was rejected numerous times in tandem with being asked to pay up for his drink tab.

The same book and lyre are still in hand when you head towards Diluc like you did that first night. He places the glass in his hands down and gives you a nod of his head, “Welcome back.”

“Thanks,” You look around and see that the tavern is even fuller than the last night you performed. It seems word had got around of your songs and they had all been waiting patiently for nights now. That was what an attendee had said to you outside the door anyways. “Do you mind?” You gesture to the stage.

“Go for it,” Any sense of caution that seeped through his words when you met him was near to nonexistent now. Maybe it was the impressions you left on the townspeople and their word of mouth the past few days. A depressing bard in the city of freedom in comparison to the other bards was news, especially when this bar had a wonderful voice to listen to.

The bar quiets again with the numerous greetings and cheers in seeing you up there. You flip open your book and thumb through the pages before settling on one song near the middle. It was a two-parter.

Your fingers pick at the strings lightly, slowly adding pressure thus causing the volume to increase subtly. Diluc shifts in his spot as he tries to focus on the tasks at hand but there really isn’t anything he is going to lose if he wants to listen.

I ran far in the depths of that same night

They chased me off as they truly had hoped

But I lost my way and wandered far

Met and saw numerous things was how I coped

The townspeople are yet again taken by your voice and melody that they had started to move with the music. Diluc decides to abandon his tasks for a little while, now aware how your music allows him to reflect as you intended. 

He sees these events before him. The death of one close to him and the loss of someone beside him whom he thought he could trust wholeheartedly. You stop singing but continue with plucking at the strings that calms the atmosphere. It is solemn and relaxing, almost putting the drunkest of the bunch to sleep but through sheer willpower they stay awake to listen on.

Happy and cheerful those that I have seen

But they were not accepting of me

Sharing the harsh reality of these mysteries

How will one otherwise feel so free?

The song ends and a round of cheers erupts, louder than the first night as there were more people. Diluc snaps out of his thoughts and wordlessly fixes you another drink that you take again, albiet still a bit shyly.

“Your lyrics,” Diluc begins and you tense at the sound of his voice, “From experience I assume?” He is straightforward, you should know this from the gossip around town. There was nothing in it for you to hide anything from him or anyone else so you tell him.

“Yes. That’s what makes good music, does it not?” You take a sip of the beverage. It must be a different one as it is much sweeter than the apple cider vinegar. “When you can relate to the words yourself. I simply want to share that with the people for reasons even I am unsure of.”

Diluc hums and doesn’t look you in the eye for his next words.

“I see. Your voice is quite nice.”

--

You both managed to continue with light chatter that night and he learns that you are staying in Mondstadt for quite a bit. You had no set plans to be in a specific place at any specific time so what was the rush to leave? Among this he is aware of how you speak. There is an ambiguous sorrow in your words from the effect of your past, he believes, that share no optimism but realistic choices that would completely stop the conversation. 

But he was the same so it continues. 

His past is the reason for his own apprehension when speaking with strangers but you were a little different. You outright told him your objective and you were just a bard who wanted to share their experience. 

You learn this of him and it was the first time that you felt light when speaking with someone.

--

“Y/n!” They learn of your name after the third night you show up which is another few nights after the second. Some take your music as a lighthearted joke in contrast to their free lives while others pay close attention to the words and sway with the tune.

You give a small grin in acknowledgement before sitting in the stool in front of Diluc. Throughout the weeks you had gotten to know each other a little better besides the titles of The Sorrowful Bard and Diluc of Mondstadt. You were just y/n and he was Diluc.

You always make a point to talk to him before performing, giving a small insight into the meaning behind your words. Last time replayed the sleepless night and doubts as you wandered Teyvat and the time before that was a retelling of an animal that accompanied you for the last months of its life.

“It knew it had to go yet it decided to follow me, spreading that sadness of loss to me as I was attached.” You said to him that night with dry eyes.

All you tell him is that this song is a little different from your other ones.

He shows more of himself to you, actions he wouldn’t typically show to others if it weren’t for a certain motive or purpose. But you were not threatening nor wanted something from him. Diluc put a bit of trust in you for that.

You never sing more than one song each night because you want them to take in the words of each song carefully. Like that animal, you wanted to share the sadness but allow them to see the great memories.

This night contains your fourteenth or fifteenth song and it is fairly new. You wrote this in the early hours of the morning with a newfound emotion bustling inside your chest. You were scared when waking up, but felt reassured when there was a hint of melancholy there among an unfamiliar emotion.

The tavern goers look at you with hopeful and excited eyes. You feel warmth in your heart as you remember the times a few of them have come up to you telling you that your music has made it easier to sleep. That your music is inspiring; sad, but inspiring.

You play a chord and Diluc raises a brow in hearing a lighter tone. Underlying is that first low tone in your first night, indicating that you plan to keep a sense of your usual. 

Then I stumbled in, seeing the light there

Unexpected welcoming I was greeted by

At first there was nothing then passed a while

Uprising something foreign for me to finally cry

Even if your eyes are trained to the floor, they are in his general direction. You didn’t know what you were feeling and you sure didn’t want to push it. 

He has his entire attention directed at you. 

You pluck higher notes much different from the chords you were accustomed to, messing up in a few that no one seemed to notice. You straighten yourself and look over the entire bar, settling your eyes on him for a bit too long for him to notice.

And so thankful am I

To be able to do such as that

And never is it unwelcomed

The beats in my soul are no longer flat

Your eyes stay staring at him and the cheers drown out. Diluc’s hand raises a few centimeters from the counter but you have already picked up your book and instrument and left.

The drink is untouched as he follows after you, thanks to Charles.

--

You feel like you can’t breathe but there is physically nothing blocking your airway. You assumed it was due to the collection of body heat in the tavern but even the cool night air did nothing to soothe the burning in your face. 

Why did I look at him? Why was he looking back? What does this mean?

“Y/n!” You gasp at the sound of his voice and as you turn around you hope that it was just in your head. Your mouth opens and closes but you can’t speak. you don’t know what to say.

Truthfully, he doesn’t either. 

Diluc didn’t know what to expect when you told him it would be different. He definitely didn’t expect for the song to be about him. He had deducted this reasoning and confirmed it when your eyes met and to you leaving.

In that room he felt the same: his face was warm and his heartbeat picked up when you lingered your gaze on him. He didn’t know what this feeling was either. 

Neither of you are speaking, the breeze brushing through.

“I’m sorry!” You say, bowing your head so he cannot see the tears of confusion, frustration, and something else running down your face.

“Why are you apologizing?” He is near you now and he can feel you jump at his touch on your shoulder. When you don’t push him off he moves his gloved hand to cup your face to lift it up. This is the first time he’s seen you cry. 

Ironic, given your songs. 

Diluc lightly presses his thumb to your cheek to brush off a tear. “Apologizing is for if you’ve done something wrong. You have done nothing of the sort.”

“Are you sure?” You say without hesitation. It is an automatic response, built upon the hardening of your heart and soul through your travels. Diluc chuckles, a small smile on his face.

“I am sure.”

--

You strum lightly, a newfound lightness to you that almost everyone has noticed. Your songs still have that sorrowful reality to them but at the end they have changed. Seeing more of the graceful and fulfilling beauty of life.

Diluc still fixes you drinks after every performance and indulges you in conversation. This time around, however, he leans in closer and places his hand closer to yours.

And you are thankful to feel that emotion.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Stalker X Stalker, Part 5

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Perma tag: @nathleigh

Stalker x Stalker taglist: @aespades @jayjayspixiepop @blueslushgueen @fan-written @seraphichana @nerd-nowandforever

Marinette listened in on Tim for three days.

Not actively, of course, she didn’t hang onto every word he said. She just let her consciousness drift in and out of the conversations he had while she worked on finishing up the outfit she had designed for Audrey...

And, yeah, she was getting to the point where she was willing to bet on him being an okay guy. Better than okay, even. He was just so… genuine?

The first two days he had come in sick. She knew the signs of working while sick by heart, the trudging around and the groaning and the constant banging your head on the desk when you pass out randomly, and damn she was pretty sure even she wasn’t as bad as him. He probably shouldn’t be working at all, to be honest, he was CEO and there was nothing stopping him from taking the day -- or even just a few hours -- off. But, no, from the sound of it he was drinking ungodly amounts of coffee and calling it okay.

And despite the fact that he seemed absolutely miserable, he hadn’t taken it out on anyone. She had yet to hear him be impolite to anyone, not even the people that worked under him. His secretary had made a scheduling mistake and he had not only assured her it was fine but didn’t even require her to fix it.

Even when he was talking to himself while working he never once said anything questionable. And he talked to himself a lot. It was like a podcast, honestly, just hearing him rattle off numbers and weird business terms she hadn’t learned because she was self-taught. He talked almost constantly and he should have slipped up by now, yet here she was three days later with nothing to show for it except for a whole lot of guilt.

Marinette hadn’t thought much about it on the first day, everyone had their good days from time to time. On the second day she said ‘oh, it’s a coincidence’, but on the third day she had to call it: her paranoia had been a little unfounded.

Literally the worst thing about him so far was that he didn’t seem to care much about his own health… and that wasn’t really a bad thing about him as much as it was a bad thing for him.

So, yeah, it looked like she had no real reason to listen in on him anymore.

… but…

Something about him was nagging at her. He was a nice guy and she’d like to be his friend… it was just that, sometimes, she could swear she recognized his voice.

And it wasn’t like there were a lot of people she knew in America, she knew who he probably was.

Her hand itched towards the tiny device hidden under her window seat. One click (and maybe a little researching) and she’d know for sure who the bats were. The only thing stopping her was the knowledge that, if she did know their real names, she’d accidentally call them by them once and immediately get thrown either into a cell or out of Gotham. She was a meta (kind of), she was already on thin ice. She didn’t need the paranoid idiots that were the bats being more wary of her than they already were.

So, she left it alone.

She kept the bug, though. Mostly just because she wanted to hear it directly from him rather than just guessing by his voice. After all, voices can be similar. If he were to directly talk about bat business while she was listening in, though… that would definitely be a point towards her theory, to say the least.

And, yeah, she knew it was kind of messed up. She could be listening in on some innocent guy for all she knew, but it was… morally kind of okay? The whole thing about stalking is that it makes your victim feel unsafe. If he was Red Robin then he had found the bug and hadn’t felt unsafe enough to remove it and if he was a civilian then he would never know about the bug and therefore couldn’t feel unsafe. Therefore, it wasn’t stalking, not really.

… yeah, that makes sense.

She glanced at her sketchbook and yawned. She really needed to get a new outfit idea soon. Good thing Tim said he was taking her out tomorrow --.

Shit, Tim was taking her out tomorrow.

She jumped up from her spot at the window and ran to her closet. What to wear, what to wear...

Frenchie: where are we going tomorrow

Spiderman: It’s a surprise.

Frenchie: fuck your surprises tim what do i need to wear

She heard his laugh crackle through her earpiece. Rude.

Spiderman: Casual clothes.

Frenchie: there are LEVELS of casual tim

Spiderman: Oh, so we’re breaking out the capital letters. This must be serious.

She scoffed. Of course it was serious.

Frenchie: just tell me what to wear

Spiderman: A t-shirt and jeans is fine.

Kwamis, send her strength. Like she was going to wear a t-shirt and jeans. Did he even know who he was talking to?

But at least she had a gauge on how casual she could go. She picked out a light pink button down and black shorts for herself and then, because she had a little bit of foresight, she added some black tights.

She smiled faintly and dropped back in her bed.

She couldn’t wait to see where he was going to take her.

She found out the next day. Because that’s how things work.

She raised her eyebrows. “There’s no way it’s actually called a ‘space museum’. You’ve gotta be lying.”

Tim shrugged, a grin poking at his lips. “Do you really think I’d make it up?”

“Well, considering your outfit, I’d say you aren’t the most creative of guys so maybe you did,” she teased.

Tim looked down at his outfit and pouted. He was wearing little more than a black turtleneck and pants under a white jacket. “Must you make fun of every outfit I wear?”

“Only the bad ones. Seriously, would it kill you to wear a little bit of color?”

He rolled his eyes. “At least I thought to bring a jacket. It’s thirty degrees!”

She had forgotten that Americans used Fahrenheit, sue her.

Of course, she was never going to admit to this. She stuck her tongue out at him. “Maybe I’m just not a wimp.”

He snickered. “Oh, so you’re not cold?”

“Not at all.”

“Then stop hugging that coffee cup.”

She looked down at the coffee cup that was her only source of warmth and happiness in this cruel world that had two different measuring systems (three if you counted Kelvin). She gripped it tighter. “... no.”

He rolled his eyes again and, after a beat of hesitation, shrugged his jacket off and offered it to her.

Marinette normally wouldn’t give in this easy… but she really was cold and his clothes were far thicker than hers were and she knew that her teeth would start chattering soon which would have been so embarrassing...

So she blushed faintly and slipped the jacket on. It smelled like ungodly expensive cologne. “Thanks.”

He grinned. “I’m taking your coffee as payment.”

“No --!”

~

After dropping by a cafe so Marinette didn’t kill him, Tim took her to the space museum (yes, that actually was what it was called).

He thought she would have missed the night sky. Gotham hardly ever had a clear night due to the thick smog that hung over the city like a curse. And they spent quite a lot of time outside at night, she must have been feeling a little homesick.

So, he rented out the museum for the day. Yes, the whole museum. He was rich and mildly famous and what was the point of that if he wasn’t going to use it to make the people he cared about happy? He doubted she would be able to enjoy the sights as much if people were constantly taking pictures of them and asking about their relationship.

She raised her eyebrows just slightly but otherwise didn’t acknowledge the lack of people.

They slipped through the rooms quietly in search of inspiration.

Many of the rooms were your typical museum things: exhibits showing off different space rocks and explaining stars and supernovas. They didn’t stop much here, obviously, there was little to be inspired by. The most that happened for a long while was Marinette stopping from time to time to take a picture of a nice color that she wanted to try and replicate later.

And then she had stopped to look at a spacesuit. She blinked a few times before breaking into a grin and flipping to a new page in her sketchbook. He could barely make out the name ‘Jagged’ from where he was fiddling with his camera a respectable distance away.

So, Marinette, at least, was having a productive time. Tim was… a little stressed, to be honest.

Tim was having a particularly hard time getting ‘inspired’.

It had been years since he had picked up his camera, which was certainly a problem but it wasn’t the problem.

The problem was that he had never been one to take pictures of locations or objects. Sure, there was the occasional picture of the Gotham skyline, but he had always had a tendency towards taking pictures of people. Batman and Robin working as a team to take out a bunch of thugs, Robin and Nightwing racing each other across the rooftops, Batman and Nightwing stopping for ice cream after a particularly long patrol… and now he wanted to take pictures of Marinette.

But that would be weird because a) the first day he had implied he took pictures of attractions in order to alleviate suspicion about why he just so happened to be on the same rooftop as her and b) she probably wouldn’t think they were close enough for him to take pictures of her.

He kind of wished he could just go back to the old days where his subjects didn’t know he was there and he wouldn’t have to worry about what they would think about him if he took a picture of them.

His fingers itched towards the camera hanging from his neck because she looked so cute with her tongue poking out of her mouth and her orange, yellow, and white colored pencils sticking out from between her fingers like little Wolverine claws and he loved the way his jacket looked on her and --.

“You can stop staring, I’ll be done as fast as I can.”

His brain shorted out and the only response he could come up with was a squeaky: “Sorry?”

She looked up from her work with an awkward smile. “I’m sorry it’s taking so long, I just… if I don’t do it now it’ll slip my mind. I’m working as fast as I can, though.”

He was rebooting. Give him a minute.

Ah, there it was.

Wait, she thought he was being impatient?

“Nononono take your time, it’s fine! I just...”

He trailed off before he could finish the thought because this was the second time they had hung out he couldn’t make things awkward between them already.

… but she was giving him a confused, vaguely concerned, look and he was pretty sure that if he didn’t come up with something soon it would be awkward anyways.

“IwasjustwonderingifIcouldtakeapictureofyou?” He blurted out before he could stop himself again.

She blinked once. Twice. And then a blush spread across her face.

“Oh. Uh… sure?”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he said.

“It’s fine. A little sudden but… fine,” she said with a tiny smile.

Tim couldn’t keep the smile off of his face.

Not one to be blushy for long, apparently, Marinette flashed a wink. “Should I call up my friend Adrien for modeling tips or…?”

He rolled his eyes and schooled his face back into his usual grin. “It’s fine, just keep working. I’ll figure out angles and stuff.”

She tipped her head to the side confusedly. “Don’t you need me to be still?”

He didn’t look up from messing with the settings of his camera. “Not at all. You’re probably going to be one of my easier pictures.”

“... thanks…?”

“I do mostly nighttime photography. Capturing things in motion without it blurring requires a --.” He cringed. “Sorry, um… basically, when you want to take photos of things that are moving fast, you need a lot of natural light.”

“... you can talk about it more in depth, if you want.”

He shrugged. “I’d bore you.”

“I like your voice,” she said… then she seemed to realize the implications because she cleared her throat and did her best to backtrack: “In comparison to every other American I’ve heard so far, at least. Why do your accents… sound like that?”

“Ah, yes, because everyone knows that French people have the best accents.”

“Excuse you, I have been told by many people that my accent is actually very nice.”

He grinned. “By whom? Half-drunk men on the street?”

She gasped as if offended. “I get my information from much more reliable sources... like drunk women in bathrooms, thank you very much.”

“I see. My mistake. I apologize.”

“As you should.”

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Don’t you have a design to make?” She looked down at her sketchbook and a silence stretched between them as she squinted at her design.

“You forgot what you were doing, didn’t you?”

She groaned and rested her head in her hands.

He took a picture of her exasperated pout.

~

Marinette ended up with two outfits.

One was for Jagged, based off of the spacesuit she had seen. She had figured that, with all the songs he wrote about being free, there was bound to be one about how he ‘finally had his own space’. It was good to be prepared.

The other was for Cassandra Wayne. Marinette hadn’t thought much about it, to be honest. She just knew that Cassandra liked the color black with designs on top of it, and that the planetarium had a nice star pattern that would work for that. It would be super expensive, what with all the gems she would need, but it wasn’t like the Waynes couldn’t afford it.

… and then she looked up to see Tim pouting.

She giggled, resting her head on her hand. “What?”

“My sister is getting a dress and I’m not.”

Oh, so he was an actual fan. Interesting.

She brushed that conversation aside in favor of teasing him: “You want a dress?”

“Yes! No? Yes? I --.” He huffed and took a seat in the chair next to her. “I have faith anything you make will look nice.”

She felt a blush rise to her face and she rolled her eyes. “Hm. Telling the person in charge of your wardrobe ‘I have full faith in you’ is a terrible idea.”

“Oh? I don’t think you, in good conscience, can make and give me anything bad.”

She squinted at him for a minute before breaking into a grin. “Wanna bet?”

He leaned back in his chair, scrutinizing her for a few moments, before smirking. “Sure, how about we put five thousand on it?”

She choked. She’d forgotten he was rich rich.

She was quick to backtrack: “Nah. With all your fashion choices so far I can’t trust you not to wear it to some Gala or whatever it is you rich people do.”

“Damn, there goes that plan.”

She grinned and looked down at her sketchbook. After a few seconds she flipped to a new page. She squinted at his outfit for a few moments before starting to doodle something.

“What’re you making now?”

“I’m making you something with some color.”

He huffed. “Excuse you, I’m a goth in a family of goths. I can’t wear color.”

“Yeah, yeah. Trust me, I know. I’d say Richard is the black sheep of the family in that aspect but he’s the one wearing color.”

He laughed a little. “So Dick is the white sheep, then?”

“Yea --.” She stopped and then squinted over at him. “Dick?”

“It’s what he insists everyone calls him.”

She looked down at her sketchbook for a moment, processing, and then shook her head. “Your brother has a degradation kink.”

Tim brought his hand to his mouth in stunned silence before pulling his phone from his pocket and definitely not informing the family group chat of his discovery.

She snickered and went to work on the outfit again. It was a simple one, because she didn’t want to go too far out of his comfort zone, but there was no way she was going to be friends with a monochromatic idiot.

She leaned over until her head rested on his shoulder. He tensed up just a little before resting his head on top of hers.

~

When she had finished he took a picture of the planetarium to keep up pretenses and they had made their leave.

… but first, they stopped by the gift shop. Because why not?

Tim could have bought everything there for Marinette -- and probably would have, if asked -- but, considering she had freaked out about five thousand dollars earlier, he figured maybe he should keep that more or less quiet.

Instead, he followed her around while idly bouncing a Saturn shaped bouncy ball. It was a terrible shape for a bouncy ball and he kind of loved it, to be honest. Not to mention the little smile Marinette made behind her hand every time the ball would try another mad dash for freedom was pretty cute.

And then they hit the t-shirt section. And her lips twitched as she reached out and picked up a bright blue shirt that said ‘May the F=MA be with you’ in white text.

“It’s awful. It’s perfect.”

He grinned. “Wow, look at you. You know one of the simplest physics formulas by heart, aren’t you smart?” He joked.

She bowed. “I know, I know.”

He held out a hand for it and she stared at him for a few seconds in confusion.

“I’ll hold it until we get to the front desk.”

She squinted at him. “I’m paying for my own shirt.”

“I can afford it,” he said with a sigh.

“So can I.”

“Either you let me pay for it or I’ll keep track of everything you buy while with me and add it to your commissions.”

“... either you let me pay for it or I’ll never make an outfit for you ever again. I know your measurements and style, Timothy, you won’t be able to get past me.”

They narrowed their eyes at each other, daring each other to call their bluffs…

And then his shoulders sagged. “Fine.”

He’d just have to use his connections to lower prices on fabrics for her. Did he mention that he was rich and mildly famous? Yeah. It was pretty cool.

~

She smiled as she leaned against the doorframe to her apartment. “Thanks for taking me out. It was fun.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and smiled back. She was determinedly ignoring the way his smile made little butterflies flutter in her stomach. She patently hated butterflies. They weren’t allowed.

“I had fun, too. Want to do it again, sometime?”

“... sure, I guess you passed my test.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Your test?”

“Oh, yeah.” She waved him off. “If you had made any creepy comments today I would have blocked you.”

He seemed a little relieved by this information, though she wasn’t quite sure why. “That’s a pretty good test to have in Gotham.”

“I know, I’m pretty smart,” she said jokingly.

He shrugged. “Yeah.”

Damn it, now she was blushing. Shit.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Do you flatter every girl you take to the space museum? Is this your strategy?”

He snickered. “Well, considering you’re the only girl I’ve taken, I’m going to have to say yes.”

She hummed. “I’m glad I’m so special to you, because that means you won’t drop me when I never give you this jacket back.”

He huffed. “You can’t just do that.”

“I can and will,” she teased. Then, because she wasn’t a completely cruel person, she reached up to her coatrack and pulled down a red scarf for him. “Here, take this so it’s more of a trade than stealing.”

“If I don’t?”

“Then you get to walk back to your house in the cold like that.”

He snorted. “What happened to not wanting to steal?”

“At least I offered!”

He rolled his eyes and leaned down so she could wrap the scarf around his neck.

She looked up at him, a blush spreading across her face, and then carefully draped it over his shoulders. “There. Now you have a splash of color.”

He smiled at her. “Ah, I see, this was all just a plot to get me to wear colors. It all makes sense now.”

“Of course.” She tugged him down more by the scarf to press a kiss to his nose. “You should wear red and black more often. They’re totally your colors.”

He smiled a little dopily. “You have no idea.”

She pushed his face away. “Weirdo. Go be cryptic somewhere else.”

“Fine, fine. See you in a few days.”

“See you then.”

~~~

Bonus Batfam group chat stuff

Timtamalam: What if Dick makes everyone call him that because he has a degradation kink?

LetMeLeaveTheChat: i fucking hate this family.

BloodSon: This is exactly the kind of lowbrow humor to be expected of you, Drake.

Timtamalam: I’m unappreciated in my time.

CAss: :0

Timtamalam: See, this is why Cass is the favorite.

YouDontSeeMe: DickJoke please respond

DickJoke: I raised each and every one of you and this is the thanks I get

LetMeLeaveTheChat: sucks to suck, dickwad.

DickJoke: That’s it when I get through all this dumb Heartless stuff I’m coming back to the manor and we’re all going to have family time

CAss: :(

ItsEggplantNotPurple: damn it

YouDontSeeMe: crap

LetMeLeaveTheChat: fuck. and an extra “fuck” on duke’s behalf.

BloodSon: Look at what you have done, Drake.

Timtamalam: Sorry guys.

[thran-duils]

Was Ich Liebe (P.3, Final)

Title: Was Ich Liebe (Part Three, Final) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark!Tony Stark.  Tony becomes enamored with a stripper at a club his hedonistic friend Thor owns. A casual sexual relationship quickly becomes possessive and the reader sees more of the underground mafia life than she would like to. The cherry on top is that Tony is married and so is she. Him to a woman who has no intention of losing her throne at any cost and the reader to a deadbeat alcoholic. Feeling trapped by both her previous life and the suffocating hold Tony is trying to put on her, the reader steals away in the night, which is not going to go over well. Words: 4,647 Warnings (for whole fic, more may be added): Dub-con, smut, infidelity, stripping, vaginal fingering, public sex, possessive behavior, angst, degradation kink, violence, physical abuse, domestic violence, language, drug use, alcoholism, death Warnings for this chapter: Mention of abortion! Author’s Note: As usual, this is 18+.

Part Two || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

Tony was calling. He must have gone to the apartment and found you gone by now, especially since you had not been answering him via text or by phone. You sent him to voicemail letting your music start again. You had rented a car to drive away from the city.

The jewelry he had given you came in handy to get cash that you were using for gas and hopefully a down payment on an apartment somewhere. Stripping joints were abundant, and you were sure if you found a sizable city, you would find work without an issue. You were thinking about Milwaukee. It was far enough away from NYC and there was a college there too.

Your phone beeped with another voicemail from him. Signing, against your better judgment, you reached forward to press play, it coming over the car’s speakers.

He was pissed. Unsurprisingly. He had been tight on the last one he had left, wound up that you were not answering him. But this was a whole different level. He was practically shouting.

“This better be a goddamn joke, Y/N. My patience is already up with it though. Did you think I wouldn’t notice you had snuck out? Where the fuck is all the jewelry? Huh? Your clothes? If I find out you left and you’re cheating on me, I’m gonna kill them.”

You did not doubt him when he said that. And he confirmed he was at the apartment if he noticed your stuff was gone.

“And were you planning on telling me about the pregnancy?” Your eyes widened and then you swore remembering you had not emptied the trash in the bathroom. “Or were you just gonna keep that to yourself? Listen very carefully to me, if you do something drastic, I’m not gonna be nice about it. Not in the fucking slightest. You best believe that and take that to heart! Don’t be fucking stupid! Call. Me. Back.”

The voicemail ended.

Yes. The pregnancy. You were already thinking about which office you could go to. You had left a note for Thor about quitting and you wondered how quickly your health insurance was going to stay in place. Before after leaving a job, it had stayed on until the end of the month, but you were unsure, and you were not about to call him and ask. An appointment at a clinic though, that was something you needed to deal with quickly. You were sure there was a facility you could find when you got yourself established.

<><><>

“You’re a psychopath,” Carol said to Tony, smirking.

She was watching him put up security cameras around Y/N’s apartment, hidden from the normal eye with his technology. And when he had taken the lock apart on her door to install tech he could control himself from his cell, she had shook her head.

“I prefer creative,” Tony responded, as he tested it out. It worked perfectly. “Little bitch isn’t going to be leaving without trying extra hard.”

<><><>

You found a hotel in Columbus. You made sure to put a chair underneath the door handle on top of using both locks. It was scary to be traveling alone. And especially when you did not know the area.

The next morning, you woke up to another voicemail from Tony. You had reached over to silence it while you were sleeping, knowing damn well who would be calling you at 2:30am.

He sounded sloshed.

“Do you remember me telling you I was never going to let you go? Cause I said it multiple times. That hasn’t changed, Y/N. It’s been almost 24 hours since you answered to me!” Slip up there with that ‘to’ added in. “It’s really fucking frustrating, and you know goddamn well I don’t like being frustrated. It’s…you’re being disrespectful!” There was a slight pause and you heard him take a drink. He let out a humorless laugh. “You won’t run away from me. I’m going to find you.”

He hung up.

Hearing how mad he was, your stomach was twisting. He was not a man that liked to be thwarted or feel like he was being disrespected. Not to mention that he was a fucking mafia member. If he got his hands back on you, he was not going to be kind. And the time he told you he would never hurt you would be tested, you worried.

Why did you let yourself get so far involved with such a dangerous, jealous man? Again?

Forcing yourself to get up from the bed, you went to take a shower to try to relax in the hot water. Afterward, you walked across the street to the coffee shop. You wanted to get on the road again to put some more distance between you and NYC and ultimately between you and him.

<><><>

You drove around the edge of UW-Milwaukee, stealing glances at the campus. A city like this with a college surely had good clientele for the clubs.

Pulling over and parking, you opened your phone beginning to search for an apartment and a job. There had to be an abundance of apartments available around the college since it was summer and a class had just graduated.

<><><>

He kept calling and kept calling. He was not going to stop. It had been two weeks. You had been trying to convince yourself to answer him and tell him to leave you alone and that it was over. You thought about changing your number and you would, but after the conversation you needed to have.

Piqued, you answered, “Tony, I’m busy—"

“Oh, you’re busy? So busy you couldn’t fucking answer me? Over the last two weeks, you’ve been ‘busy’. Too busy for me? That’s hilarious! You should have your own fucking stand up show.” His tone was dripping with condescension.

Sighing, you said, “I’m getting ready for work! This needs to be quick.”

“Work?” Tony chuckled darkly. “Now you care about work? You fucked Thor over by quitting on the spot. How were you even able to get a reference?”

“I danced. That was reference enough.”

“Of course you did. Of course you’re stripping. Where are you?”

“I’m not going to tell you, Tony!”

“Y/N, baby,” he started, sounding like it was taking everything in him to keep his voice even. “If you just apologize and tell me where you are or just come back, I’ll be able to let this go easier. You can come back to me, and it’ll all be okay.”

You mustered out a strong, “No! I am not going to do that.”

His leash was back off. “Why are we playing this stupid game, Y/N? I can handle you being bratty — cause I love fucking it out of you — but this is really pushing me over the edge!”

“I’m not being a brat! You were suffocating me!”

“Suffocating you? I worship you!” He was so easily able to confuse his possession with love. He continued on irritated, “I shower you with gifts! I make sure you’re well taken care of! I’ve treated you better than anyone else has! And you’re coming at me like this? What is your fucking problem, Y/N? What? Is being on the phone instead of in person giving you some fake confidence? Don’t think I’m not keeping track of this ungrateful bullshit just because you’re not standing in front of me!”

He was quickly losing his temper. You had never made him this mad, had never pushed back.

You were shaking as you tried to stand up for yourself, “I’m not the one with a problem! I didn’t force you to move anywhere or—"

Tony interrupted you furiously. “Do you understand how much that apartment cost? How much that car cost? You barely drove it!”

Frustrated he was steam rolling you as usual. you said fighting to keep tears back, “Sell it then!”

“If that was supposed to be a joke, it was an awful one. This shit isn’t fucking funny, Y/N! When I find out where you are, I’m gonna drag you back by your goddamn hair!”

“Good luck!” you spat, it slipping out before you really thought about it. Your eyes widened at what you had just done, and you quickly hung up as he started to snarl something back.

He was immediately calling you back and you sent him to voicemail again.

<><><>

Tony let out an aggravated shout, throwing his phone down on the desk when she did not answer him back.

Good luck was right.

She had stayed on the line long enough to give him time to trace her down to the general area. Milwaukee. Near the university. He would find her, and he was gonna find her quick with getting eyes on the ground to spot her leaving her place wherever that was in the area. And she was not going to like it when he came knocking to collect her.

<><><>

The bag from the closest grocery store was heavy with groceries for the week. You had returned the rental car when you signed your lease, able to use the bus system until you bought your own car.

You noticed there was a man watching you across the street and you slowed in your pace, narrowing your eyes. He did not look away and you swallowed sharply before resuming your pace. You felt like you could still feel his eyes on the back of your head. You had felt like there had been eyes on you earlier this morning too. A foreboding feeling was creeping; you wanted to get inside and quick.

Entering your apartment, you kicked the door closed and struggled to lock it immediately. The bag crunched as you walked over to the kitchen and placed it on the counter.

You put the few groceries away and walked around the counter, tearing your shirt off and tossing it on the back of one of your chairs. It was hot since you were on the third floor and you had not been able to buy an air conditioner yet.

“This place is a shithole.”

You screamed, startled at the voice, whipping around, your eyes searching wildly.

Tony was sitting in the end of your bed in your room.

He had surprisingly not called you for the last few days, not after the conversation the two of you had. Not hearing from him had set you on edge just as much as him calling you did. You knew he was not going to give up easily and the silence was a trap if you fell into it thinking that it was done.

Your eyes flicked to the door, and he chastised you in low, dangerous tones, “Y/N, you’re already in enough trouble. Don’t make this worse for yourself. Carols outside. So is Rhodey. And a handful of other people I brought along in case you were gonna cause more trouble.”

The man outside. So, you had been being watched.

Tony stood up from the bed and came out of the bedroom, and up to you. You took a few steps back and he tsked you. You stopped immediately, knowing what he wanted. He closed the rest of the space and raked his eyes up and down you.

“Why did you have to go and cause trouble in the first place? You think I was suffocating you? That’ll seem like a cakewalk compared to when you come back with me. See, we’ve lost trust. I can’t have you running around when you know as much as you do. And you running off looks like you were going to squeal.” You opened your mouth to protest but he rose his voice, shutting you up. “And I can’t have that. Not when I have other people to answer to on the team. I will not be the weak link in the chain, which means you are not going to be running off in the middle of the night. Even if it’s not what you planned to do, it looks bad.”

His hands came to rest on your biceps, squeezing in tight, causing you to flinch slightly. His eyes were hard. “You could have had the world and you threw it away.” His thumbs caressed, his tongue slipping between his lips. “But I can be a forgiving man if you make me believe that you’re sorry. Just do that for me, beg for forgiveness, and I’ll take care of you and that baby.”

You gulped at the mention of the baby, and he noticed. His eyes narrowed. He leaned in, searching your face and you looked away, but he forced you to look back at him, his hand holding your jaw tight.

“Y/N, baby… you got something to tell me?”

You were silent, your heart starting to hammer.

“Y/N, you know I don’t like repeating myself.”

His grip tightened and you felt tears pricking, apprehensive of how he was going to react.

Your voice warbled, “I…I had an abortion.”

Tony was frozen, his eyes wide and incendiary. His grip on your jaw loosened and you took a step back away from him. His jaw clicked, eyes not leaving you. You saw he was going to explode.

Raising your hand shakily, as if that was going to hold him off, you started, “Now, Tony—"

His backhand sent you stumbling. He caught you before you could do it yourself and slammed you up against the wall.

“You’re lucky I didn’t cold clock you!” He snarled, his fingers digging in painfully to your arms.

“Tony, don’t—”

“Don’t? Don’t what? Be fucking furious that I told you not to do anything drastic and then you went and did just that? Without even consulting me? I have a goddamn right to be furious! How fucking dare you!”

You were sniffling now, terrified.

He gave you a rough shake before demanding, “What’s the lease on this place?” You took too long to answer. “Answer me!”

“Month to month,” you whimpered.

“Smart. Makes this easier.” His nose was practically brushing yours. “Look, you’re gonna be good and listen to me about exactly what is going to happen—"

“You can’t—"

“Did I tell you that you could talk? No! I told you you were going to listen. Keep your fucking mouth shut!” Tony lashed out. You closed your mouth, your lip warbling. “You’re coming with me. And I haven’t decided yet if I want them all to listen to you beg for forgiveness on the plane or if I’m waiting until we are alone. Not doing it here. Don’t wanna alarm your neighbors and have to injure any of them if they try to interfere. I don’t want, nor need that type of mess.”

He shoved you as he let you go, and you wiped at your eyes.

“I can’t fucking believe you. Can’t even follow simple goddamn directions. What are you? A child?” he snorted angrily. He snapped his fingers at you and pointed at your room. “Get your shit. We are leaving and going home. The jets at the airport.”

<><><>

He had not punished you on the plane. You instead had sat, curled in as tightly as you could to yourself in the chair across from him under a blanket, looking out the window as much as possible. You felt him watching you intensely the whole two hours. You could only imagine the deranged ideas going through his head about what he was going to do to you when he got you alone.

The moment you stepped into your apartment, he ordered you, “Get yourself done up. I want you to look nice for me. I’ll be out here watching the game.”

His goons brought in your suitcases and put them next to the kitchen table before leaving at his order. Tony grabbed the remote and turned the TV on. He saw you were still standing there, and he glared.

“Y/N…” he said dangerously. “I don’t see you moving.”

You grabbed your suitcase with your clothes and trudged down the hall, feeling his hard stare at your back until you disappeared into the bedroom. You had left a lot of your clothes here but there was a dress you had brought with you, one that he liked specifically. Which shocked you a little bit because it was loose and free; still short though.

Taking the time to shower, blow dry, do your makeup, and dress, you felt the anxiety rising about what he was going to do. You thought the extra time would calm you down, but it was doing the opposite because it was giving you more time to think.

When you walked back down the hall, your black wedges announcing your arrival, Tony looked over the back of the couch. You saw the bottle on the coffee table. He had been drinking, not a surprise. He gestured you over and you walked around the couch, coming over to him. He ran his eyes up and down you, taking you in.

“Well, don’t you look just perfect?” he asked, an edge underlying his tone.

He stood up from the couch and you stayed still. He pulled his phone out and took a picture of you without giving you time to prepare. He turned his phone around and you looked dumbstruck in the photo.

But he complimented, “Look at that. Pristine. That’s what good girls look like.” A cruel smile flashed across his features, and he tossed his phone down on the couch. “But you’re not a good girl are you, baby?”

You only had a moment to react before he was forcing you down to your knees. You hissed in pain as your knees slammed against the hardwood.

“You brought this on yourself. You think I like punishing you?” Tony asked, working on his belt with one hand as the other held you by the back of the neck. Your hands came up to grip his thighs, pressing back against the hold he had on your neck. “Ah ah, stay where you are.” He stroked himself with purpose, his hand moving at a steady pace. “Look at you. A pretty little slut that needs to be taught a lesson.”

He was hard now, the head of his cock pressing against your lips.

“Open your damn mouth!” You clenched your teeth, knowing he was gonna be rough and not wanting to choke. He let go of you to slap your cheek and sneered, “Don’t make me ask you again!”

You opened your mouth reluctantly, and he grabbed you by the back of your neck again and shoved his dick in all the way, your nose brushing his pubes. You gagged before he pulled back out, running his head around your lips. He groaned at the sight, slipping back in and using your mouth.

“Tell me you love me!”

“I love you!” you got out around his width.

“Look at me!” You forced your gaze up to meet his and he thrusted faster, hitting the back of your throat. Your hands gripped tight onto his thighs, eyes begging for him to slow down. But he was not relenting, and your throat was aching. Another groan left his lips as he demanded, “Tell me you love me, you little bitch.”

It was hard to say it, you choking now, tears stinging your eyes. “I love you!”

He pulled away roughly, his hand wrapped around your hair tightly, keeping you in place. Your saliva was stringing messily between him and your lips. Your chin as well as his pubes were glistening with your drool. You gasped for air, thankful for the reprieve from your jaw aching from being open so wide.

The reprieve was short lived though and you cried out in pain as he began walking, dragging you by your hair.

“Forgive me that I don’t quite believe you. But I’m gonna make sure I do believe you. I’m gonna get a genuine one out of you before I’m through.”

Tony sat on the edge of the bed and held you tight. “Give me a show. Take that dress off and let me see you. Let me see what I’m going to take.”

Shakily, you stood up as his grip laxed and he was watching you like a hawk. You wiped at your lips, knowing there was little to do about your eye makeup since he had made tears come with how hard he had been choking you. You started to sway your hips, trying to find a rhythm amongst the excitement. You turned away from him so he could not see your face as you struggled to calm down enough to dance.

It was sloppy, unconfident. But that did not seem to bother him. He pulled you into his lip and his hands slipped up your dress and into your underwear.

“Don’t get to tell me now that I can’t touch,” he husked against your cheek, his fingers slipping into your pussy. “All mine.”

He was stroking you, getting you worked up, making you lose focus on grinding. You bit your bottom lip, a strangled moan escaping.

Tony chuckled, nuzzling your cheek. “I know you like that. Gonna get you good and wet for me, sweetheart. Spread your legs further.”

You were falling so easily into his touch, your core wanting more. You were getting wound up and he was loving it. He worked quicker, his breath heavy as he felt how aroused you were, wetting his fingers.

“Maybe you are a good girl. Look how well you are behaving for me. Is this you apologizing?” He pulled away just to lay a hard smack on your cunt. You bucked, crying out and he did it again. You whimpered as his fingers entered again, focusing on your bud. “You’re a needy little slut, aren’t you baby?” You nodded and he sucked at your neck. “You’re repenting so well… but you’ve got a long way to fucking go.”

You were so close, but he suddenly shoved you away roughly, causing you to stumble in your heels.

“Strip.”

You did as he asked, pulling the dress up and tossing it behind you, leaving you in just your underwear. He rose his brows expectantly and you turned around, bending over slowly. You pulled your underwear down, feeling how wet they were at the crotch. You heard him hum at the sight of them and your glistening pussy. They fell to your ankles, and you turned around, kicking them off.

Tony stood up and pointed at the bed. “On your stomach.” You did as he asked and heard him getting undressed. You peeked over your shoulder at him undoing his tie as he walked towards your closet. He emerged again with a scarf, his eyes fixated on you. “Did I tell you you could look at me?” You turned back around quickly, butterflies swarming.

He grabbed one of your ankles and yanked you down the bed. You felt his tie around your ankle, and you tensed as he tied you to the bed frame. He was at your opposite ankle and tied your other leg with your scarf tightly.

“Tony…” you said hoarsely.

He did not answer you and you laid there, spread wide. The bed creaked with his weight and his thick thighs straddled you, holding you even tighter in place. You felt him pressing in and your fingers dug into your quilt. Each inch filled you up more and he exhaled as he reached his base.

“That’s the gentlest thrust you’re going to get, sweetheart. Enjoy it.”

Tony was not lying; he was pounding you into the mattress and you were not being quiet about the intrusion. You were already so wet, and he was adding to the sensation the way he was working you.

“You’re gonna remember who you loves you the most,” he groaned. The bed was shaking with how hard he was driving into you. “You’re gonna remember to behave!”

Pulling out of you, he smacked you hard against your ass. “Get up on your knees. Now!”

You obeyed, maneuvering with the restraints and his fingers replaced his dick, rubbing your clit. You keened, your back arching at the intense contact. You were ashamed that as usual you fell to the arousal, letting him take you over completely even when he was being as mean as he was.

“Fuck, you little whore. Look at you. So needy for cock. Why did you leave me in the first place? You were never going to find anyone that would love you like I do. You hurt my feelings, baby. And I don’t like having my feelings hurt.”

“I’m sorry,” you gasped without any prompting.

Tony’s fingers fell from your sex, and he was up, holding you by the throat. His breath was hot on your ear. “I might just leave you here on the bed right now. Tie those delicate wrists up too. Keep you on display for me. I’ll just walk by and see you stuck here, just dependent on me to come back to release you.”

You shook your head, begging pathetically, “No, p-please.”

“You want me to finish?”

“Yes!”

“Do you deserve it? Cause I don’t think you fucking do.”

You shook your head, “No. I don’t. But, please!” He brushed your pussy lightly with his fingers, teasing and you broke down even further. “I love you! I love you! Please!”

“You’re not gonna leave me again.” It was a statement, not a question.

You shook your head furiously again, gasping, “No! No, I won’t leave you!”

He yanked you up painfully by your hair again and new tears stung your eyes.

“I’m gonna make fucking sure of it. You’re gonna be on house arrest until I see fit to let you out! Face down,” Tony snarled, pushing you roughly down by the shoulders. He was behind you again. “You’re gonna be full of my seed when I’m done.”

Your chest hit the bed as the room filled with skin slapping skin loudly as he ravaged you. It did not take long for your body to tense up and a shriek left you as your pussy clenched around him. Tony’s breath was erratic as his pace lost control, his fingers digging into your hips. Broken husks were falling from his mouth, you could not make it out over the buzz in your ears. You felt the warmth though when he filled you up, his cock buried deep. He was making sure it was up against your cervix. His groan was long and loud, his hands squeezing your ass tight.

When he pulled away, you laid out flat, feeling worn. You heard him leave the room, the hardwood in the hall creaking with his footfalls. Your body was covered in sweat, heavy pants leaving your lips. For a moment, you forgot you were tied and tried to adjust and let out a sigh of disappointment when you felt the tug of the restraint on your ankle.

Tony was back with his phone. He cooed, “Oh, sweetheart. You’re so tired. Look up at me.” You lifted your head and saw him snap a picture of you. His lips curled into a smirk at the photo, and he turned it around to show you. Your makeup was ruined, tear trails on your cheeks, mascara and eyeliner smudged. You looked like a mess.

“Look at this lovely sight,” he purred. He flipped to the last photo of you looking made up and then back again. “Look how dirty you got pleasing me compared to before. I’m going to keep these.” A malicious glint flashed in his eyes, and he said, “I’ll give you a few to recover. But baby, there’s gonna be round two and no, I’m not going to let you clean up. Let’s see how much dirtier I can get you.”

~~~

Marvel tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld @holl2712 @agustdowney  @biiskuitx @buttercupfangirl

Fic tags: @buttercandy16

[fruitcoops]

Okay I love everything you do with Sirius and Regulus and I was wondering if you could do Regulus having a bad dream and Sirius comforting him? It could be about family or literally anything

No pressure though I love you tons <33

Ugh I love this prompt. These two make my heart ache in the best way, and it was a real treat to write about them a bit! Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for nightmares (mentioned) and past child abuse (mentioned, vague)

The first thing Sirius thought of when he awoke to a rustling downstairs was ‘raccoon?’

The second was ‘burglar??’

And the third was Regulus.

Carefully, he moved Remus’ head onto the pillow and slipped out from under his arm, shivering at the chill of their bedroom outside the blankets. He grabbed a hoodie off the dresser and opened the door softly before padding downstairs; it was half past three in the morning on a Saturday, and Regulus never got up before eleven if he could help it, even on weekdays.

The kitchen light was on when Sirius walked down the stairs, still rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Reg?” he whispered.

A mug clattered and he frowned, wincing at the brightness of the small room. Regulus had his back to the door as he fiddled with the stove.

“What’re you doing up?” Sirius asked around a yawn.

“Didn’t mean to wake you up. Sorry.” A fine tremor rippled through Regulus’ arm; his voice was strained.

The latent drowsiness left Sirius’ body in the blink of an eye. “Are you alright?”

“All good.”

“Reg.”

Regulus swallowed as Sirius gently touched his arm. Hot chocolate bubbled in the pan that he stirred with a shaky hand—underneath the warm milk, Sirius smelled cinnamon. “It was just a nightmare. I’ll be alright in a minute.”

“How long have you been awake?”

He shrugged, sniffling once before grabbing his mug off the counter. It was a multicolored monstrosity Katie had painted him for his birthday, but he used on every occasion; once, Sirius saw him drink lemonade from it. “Half an hour? An hour? I’m not sure.”

“Do you want to talk?”

Regulus shook his head and his lower lip quavered slightly. Sirius made a soft sound and opened his arms, letting him rest against his chest like he used to when they were kids. Two hands clutched the back of his hoodie and he pressed a light kiss to Regulus’ dark hair before setting his chin on it. “Sorry,” Regulus hiccupped. “I tried to be quiet.”

“I thought you were a raccoon for a second,” Sirius joked, though he kept a tight hold on his little brother. “You know you can always wake me up if you need something, right?”

“I’m nineteen, not four.” Despite his scoff, Regulus held on tighter. “Thanks. I needed this.”

“Any time.” Sirius reached down and stirred the hot chocolate as it began to froth. “Did you add the nutmeg?”

“I don’t remember.”

Sirius nodded and brought the spoon to his mouth, licking his lips. “Yep, you got it. Oh, that’s good.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” He grabbed another mug out of the cupboard and poured equal measures into each, then a little more into Regulus’.

“Hey! I didn’t say you could have any.”

“Brother tax.” Sirius took a sip and smacked his lips just to rub it in. “Also, payment for the hug.”

“I’m not paying you for hugs.”

“It’s either this or five bucks. I’ll leave it up to you.” He grinned and knocked their hips together as Regulus rolled his eyes. They drank in comfortable silence for a few minutes, hands curled around the warm edges as spiced chocolate steam filled the kitchen.

“So…” Regulus trailed off.

Sirius took another drink. “I’m not going to make you talk if you don’t want to.”

“Okay.” There were a few more heartbeats of quiet. “It was about Mother.”

It took every ounce of self-control, but Sirius didn’t flinch. “Hmm.”

“She was yelling again. She yelled a lot, especially after you were gone.”

He swallowed hard around the shame rising in his throat. Heather always said he shouldn’t be guilty for moving forward, that he hadn’t abandoned Regulus in any sense of the word, but it was still hard to accept. “She always did.”

“I don’t blame you for getting out.” Regulus kept his eyes trained on the red walls as he scooted over so their shoulders touched. “I’m glad you did, actually. I’d rather it be me than you.”

“That’s my line,” Sirius laughed, a little bitterly. “You didn’t deserve that.”

“Neither did you.”

“She can’t touch us here, okay? We’re safe now.” Sirius nudged him until he looked over and nodded. “You’ll always have a place in this house, Reg.”

“Remus must be tired of having me around,” Regulus muttered into the rim of his mug.

“Are you kidding? He thinks you’re the best thing since sliced bread,” Sirius snorted. “You’re both such nerds.”

“Okay, Mr. Come-Watch-This-Underwater-Documentary-For-the-Fifth-Time.”

Sirius made a face at him and put the pan in the sink, running some water around the sides so the milk wouldn’t stick. He could tell Regulus wanted to say more; tension was starting to gather in the air again. “Even if he was tired of you, I wouldn’t kick you out.”

There was a beat of surprised silence. “You wouldn’t?”

“No. I almost lost you once and I won’t do it again.” He drained the last of his hot chocolate and bit his lip. “Please don’t make me choose between you, though.”

“I won’t. I would never make you do that.” A fierce gleam entered Regulus’ silver eyes for a moment, then faded. “Dumo offered me a place to stay when Logan moves in with his boys.”

“Did he?”

“I was—” Regulus paused. “I was thinking about taking him up on the offer.”

A pang hit Sirius’ heart. “I think it’ll be good for you. Independence, and all that.”

“I think so, too. It’ll be…interesting, to have some solid parents for once.” He set his mug down and leaned back on the counter, looking around the kitchen carefully. “I like it here, though. It feels like a home.”

“You can make whatever choice you think is best. I’ll miss you, but I won’t stop you from whatever you decide to do.”

Regulus chewed his lower lip. “I was thinking about quitting hockey.”

“Okay.”

“I love it so much, but I might take a year and do some online classes. Or get a job. I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to know everything right now.” Sirius reached over and ruffled his hair. “You’re nineteen, not ninety-five. Honestly, I’ve been waiting to catch you sneaking out to hang with Knutty one of these nights.”

Regulus laughed quietly, a real smile splitting his face. “That’s a good idea.”

“I could ground you.” Sirius grinned. “I’ve always wanted to ground somebody.”

“That’s so lame,” Regulus snickered, leaning his temple on Sirius’ shoulder for a moment before sighing. “I’m going to try and sleep again.”

“Sweet dreams, freeloader,” Sirius teased, giving him a squeeze. “And put your dishes in the sink.”

[tobealostwanderer]

Fight Night

Frankie x GN!Reader

Your best friend promises her brother's friend to fight him in the ring. You go to cheer her on, worried for her safety, but leave with forever friends and a crush

"Are you shure you wanna do this though? You never did matches before.. You can get seriously hurt" the nervousness in your voice was unmistakable but that didn't stop your asshole friend of laughing at you. "Love, I need to teach these men a lesson" she said with a tone of mischief. "And you will get laid. Which will be payment enough for me. Because gosh you are tense. Anyways when will you be here?"

"I'm getting in my car now. I will get there in 15 ish minutes" you answered her. You gave your normal goodbyes before you hang up and threw your phone on the passenger side with a sigh.

Maddie, your best friend, was a boxer and could absolutely kick ass. Her brother, Jack, kept pestering her how she should take her skills to a proper ring and knock some guys out but she always said no. Until a few weeks ago. When she met one of Jack's friends and he dared her to fight him in the ring. And being a hotheaded person, she took up that deal without thinking. And now it's Friday, just after work, and you were on your way to support her with Jack.

The relatively short ride was spend singing along to some Fleetwood Mac songs. Your old car only played CDs and so your dash was full with them. And as you drove up to the ring, belting along with The Chain, you spotted Maddie and Jack's cars and managed to park close by them. Turning down your car, you send a quick prayer to whoever God was listening to keep your friend in one piece, grabbed your phone and went in.

The place was packed. People were screaming, making bets, watching the two persons go at it on the elevated ring. The place smelled like sweat, cheap beer and blood. It made you a bit uneasy, especially being surrounded by mostly men, so you set off to find Jack as quick as possible. Which was hard, with only the spotlights on the ring being a source of light, the rest of the room being dimmed by some wall lamps, faces were hard to see.

In fact, Jack saw you before you saw him. Suddendly he was in front of you, grinning. "C'mon! I saved us a seat next to my friend's friends. They are pretty cool" he yelled over the noise. He grabbed your arm and dragged you to a bench with four men. All were holding a beer and all were reacting differently to the fight.

The first one, a slim, tan guy with black hair was totally invested. He kept yelling and cheering when the guy he was rooting for managed to hit his opponent. He looked slightly drunk, but he wasn't being annoying as of yet.

Next to him was a taller and broader guy. He sat there, seemingly unamused. Probably waiting for his friend to get in the ring. He didn't look too approachable.

The third guy was like the first one but a bit more toned down. He cheered every once in a while but wasn't as hyper like the first guy. He had blonde hair and a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

And the last one... Didn't look like he belonged at all. He was silent, although not in a threatening way like guy nr. 2. He didn't seem uncomfortable, just seemed like he didn't want to be in such a rowdy and busy place. You couldn't blame him.

"Guys" Jack called, making them all look away from the ring and to the two of you. "This is my sister's friend" he introduced you. "And these are Santiago, Tom, Will and Frankie. They are Benny's friends, but Will is his brother." Jack explained. You nodded and smiled at the bunch.

After a beat of uncomfortable silence between the group and you, you decided to sit down next to the silent one, Frankie, and you smiled kindly at him. "What is someone like you doing in a place like this?" He asked, a bit awkwardly. Is he trying to flirt? You thought. No.. can't be.

"Gotta make shure that my best friend isn't torn to shreds. I have faith in her but you never know" you said with a grin. "If she loses, however, I might need to kick her ass. For doing this. Because sometimes she barerly has any braincells" to that Frankie laughed and his eyes shone a bit more than the dull brown they were when you first quietly observed him.

Conversion with Frankie after that came surprisingly easy. Especially since you weren't much of a talker. It was a great distraction from the two guys that were beating eachother to bloody pulp no more than 5 meters away from you. Frankie was kind and made bad jokes to which you laughed. You learned that he was currently a car mechanic but classifies himself as an "all in one handyman", meaning he could basically do anything according to him.

You in turn told him about working at the local library as their barista for their in-shop coffee nook. It was the easiest and calmest job you ever had, since most people that came to a library were already calm people so you didn't have to deal with a lot of "entitled bitches". Again Frankie laughed, but before he could say anything the new fight was announced and it was Maddie against Benny.

You turned to the ring, seeing your friend standing there tall and proud. A lot of guys wolf whistled at her as she got ready. Opposite of her was Will's brother, Benny, and they truely were look alike. Or it might be their equally blonde hair. He had a big smile on his face, like he couldn't wait to fight her.

After a few minutes of preparation, the bell went and the two went ham on eachother. You had to give it to them both, they were strong and fast. Equally matched. From your right you heard Santiago call "I am betting 20 bucks on our Ben". To which you almost immediately replied "I am betting 40 on Maddie". He looked at you in shock, and as your eyes turned up to Frankie, you saw him looking in shock as well.

Before Frankie could protest though, Santi had jumped forward and shook your hand. Yelling a loud "Deal" before returning to his seat and starting to cheer for the younger Miller.

Frankie held your gaze, at first he looked like he wanted to say something, but then he shook his head and just smiled "Tell you what" he said "If Ben wins, I get you a drink. If he loses, you get me a drink. Deal?" To that you grinned and shook his hand "Deal."

The fight took a while, because the two were well matched, until Benny got a few good hits in and it didn't look well for Maddie. You heard Santiago cheer and chant "Go Benny Go!" With Will. Maddie however came back with more fire than before and managed to hit Benny in a few weak spots and within a minute, he was groaning on the floor and called out.

You and Jack cheered and Maddie locked eyes with the two of you and grinned. She then helped Benny up and clapped him on the back as they both went back to the dressing rooms. "I think you owe me money!" You yelled at Santiago and he grouchy pressed a 20 in your hand. With that in hand you went to the bar to get two beers for you and Frankie.

This was just one night in many to come. You came in with only worry for your best friend, and left with forever best friends and a crush on a certain curly haired, hat wearing man. And you wouldn't have it any other way.