In The Mood For Angst

If I had saw this two years ago, maybe I would've stayed in additional math

Factorisation

Lying To Himself

Content: in which toji is left alone and how he deals with your temporary absence

You have to leave for two weeks, something about a mission in another city. Your boyfriend, Toji, swears it'll be okay, even insists that time will pass by in a blink of an eye. 

“‘m not a fucking child, ma. I’ll be fine. Just take care, yeah?”

And so, you peck him on his lips and wave goodbye before you get in the car. Then you’re disappearing in the distance. Toji shrugs, going back in feeling pretty excited to have the house to himself for two weeks — this has never happened before. As he sits on the couch, bottle of beer in one hand and tv remote on the other, he thinks about all the things he can do now.

The toilet seat can stay up, the bins will be full for longer, same goes for the dirty dishes in the sink, and he can watch whatever he wants; no more of those sappy romcoms with predictable plots and cheesy lines. 

“’s gonna be fun,” he mutters, a growing grin on his face. 

A couple days pass in relative silence, he stays out late, sleeps till noon and eats all the junk you’ve banned from the house. Toji cooks all the steak he wants and leaves the beer bottles to collect dust on the coffee table. And he accepts every invitation from his buddies to go out for drinks, watch basketball at the bar, and plays a couple games too.

He stays up all night, on the evenings he's not getting stupid drunk, playing videogames -- the violent ones you cringe at. During the day, he walks around the place in just his boxers, sometimes not even that, and it's liberating. All a man needs is to be free to balls naked in their own kitchen.

"You're not missing her at all?" Shiu asks, smoke blowing in his face as they stand in the back alley, leaning against the wall of the bar.

Toji snorts. "What am I? Five years old? I can last a couple weeks without being sappy."

His friend gives him a look, half of amused, half disbelieving and a hundred percent smug. None of them miss the death grip he has on his phone, the way his knee is bouncing, and how he isn't even looking at the hot chicks that sway their asses as they walk by.

It’s been great. Really fucking great. 

You haven’t been texting much. Sure, you check in here and there, letting him know you’re alright, you’re safe, and makings sure he’s watered your plants. However, there are rarely any opportunities for phone calls longer than five minutes, no FaceTime either, and sometimes he goes to sleep without a ‘goodnight’ from you. 

It’s fine. 

At least, he can sleep at whatever time he wants without you whining about needing cuddles.

More days pass just like that. 

And now he’s rarely leaving the house, finding his drunk friends boring, obnoxious loud, and suddenly he's realised they’re kinda fucking stupid. He starts to get sick of all the steak and fried chicken and takeaway, and instead he’ll text you for the recipe of your lasagne or that smoothie you make him in the morning that’s always greener than the last. 

His feet tap on the floor when you don’t reply straight away. And when his phone lights up, he practically dives for it and grips it tight in his palm, screen threatening to crack, when it’s not from you. 

“God fucking dammit, Shiu. Don’t fucking talk to me if it’s not important.”

The movies he’s been dying to watch are pretty shit. There’s no depth, no proper pacing, and the dialogue’s cheesy as fuck. Usually, you’d throw popcorn at the screen and complain about all those things, but he finds that he has to mutter them to himself for white noise. Even smirks when he thinks he got it exactly right, guessing what you’d say. 

“She’d totally find that shit stupid. And that blood looks fake. It’s like they didn’t even try.”

Most of the phone calls on his history log are from him, more reds than greens. What the fuck have they got you doing over there anyways? 

When you do reply to his ‘g’night’ and ‘hey, sleep well?’, he’ll have a go at you for taking so damn long. It’s just fucking ridiculous that you’re clearly sleeping well when he has to hit the gym and tire himself out to even get an hour of shut eye. Sometimes, he can’t even get any and he just paces the length of the living room waiting for a notification from you to pop up. 

“Fucking come on! Y'r phone better be dead or something.”

Toji hates having dinner on the table; the seat opposite him is empty, the placemat bare and he feels a freaky fucking soreness in his chest. When that happens, he never finishes his dinner. Must be a symptom of early heart disease. Gotta talk to the doctors about that. 

Eventually, you find time to speak to him for an hour, recounting all the crazy things you’ve seen and had to do. He doesn’t interrupt, he just grunts here and there, not even really listening but he urges you to keep talking when there’s a pause, like you’re unsure if you’re talking too much. And when you try to turn the conversation on him, asking about his day, he gives one word answers and then throws you another question. 

“Yeah?” He grunts. “What else? Speak up, ma. Wanna hear ya. D’ya go to that shop? Yeah? Y’ buy anything? Send me a picture.”

The guys at work know better than to open their fat mouths around him when he turns up with an extra wrinkle and a ticking in his jaw. Toji is somehow even more sadistic and violent and eager for blood. Even finally accepts their invitation to go out for drinks and drowns himself in the extra strong shit. Assuming he just woke up on the wrong side of the bed, they don’t question his sour mood. 

But what they don’t know is that you texted to let him know you’re staying another week. 

Fucking texted. 

Didn’t even get to hear it from your own voice. 

He buries himself in more work and stays at the gym for even longer, pushing his body so far, his mind quiets down and he don’t gotta think about the fact that he’s started sleeping on your side of the bed, that the house is losing your scent, and that divot on the couch where you always sat has flattened out. 

The day comes, though, when you’re finally returning home. 

“Y’ sure? Not gonna flake again? Be fucking sure, ma. Alright, get back safe.”

Toji throws all the rubbish out, washes the dishes and dries them, double checks that the toilet seat is down, and he’s followed your recipe for beef stew to the letter — it’s cooking in the oven, and it looks fucking great. Even exfoliated in the shower like you’ve been asking him to, almost took off an entire layer of skin. He doesn’t want to admit he feels pretty fucking fresh. 

The door handle rattles. 

He sits up. And then stands. Walks over to the front door, arms crossing and then uncrossing. 

You’re here. 

“Hey, Toji—“

Your greeting is smothered in his chest as he threatens to suffocate you with the hardest bear hug in the whole world. And though he’d never hurt you, if you weren’t a sorcerer, you’d have been in big trouble. 

“Y’ hungry? Or y’ wanna shower first?”

His hands are all over you, lifting your chin to search your face for any scratches, even squishes your cheeks to be sure, and he’s patting you down for bruises or just to make sure all your limbs are intact. There’s a frown on his lips and it’s pretty darn cute. 

“Aw, Toji, baby. Did you miss me?”

“No.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re not a child, blah blah blah.”

Walking past him to take your shoes off, hang your coat and roll your suitcase to the side, you’re inhaling the air and moaning about the delicious food in the oven. Oh, God. You’ve been craving homemade food for so long now. You might actually die if you don’t eat. 

“Come here.” Your eyes dart to him, still standing by the doorway, fists clenching and unclenching. Toji looks furious. You look closer. No, he looks…embarrassed? “Said come here, ma.”

“Why?” You ask, head titling in curiosity and slight suspicion. 

He grunts. “What? I gotta spell it out for ya?”

Laughing, you tap your foot on the ground and retort back, “Yeah, you might because you need to have a good reason from keeping me from both a good shower and a warm meal.”

Toji rolls his eyes and stalks over to you, yanking you back to his chest so he can wrap his arms around you and keep you still. It’s much softer than before, but you feel the same sense of passion, something that verges on desperation.

It’s almost like…

No. 

It can’t be. 

Oh, but when you feel his face bury itself in your neck and you hear that long inhale, followed by a deep groan vibrating through his chest, you’re absolutely sure. 

Toji missed you. 

An overwhelming feeling of love fills you, so does a sense of victory, and you just hug him back, inhaling deeply too. He smells like home, like reluctant cuddles, pats on the ass, and early morning sex. You thought you’d have the most trouble in the two weeks, which turned into three, but as it turns out, he didn’t fare much better. 

Though he’d never admit it with his own mouth, his body betrays him.

Toji doesn’t let you get very far without a hand on you somehow, whether that’s a hand on your thigh as you eat dinner side by side, instead of across from each other, or you sitting on his lap as you watch the movie you want to watch. He even waits on the toilet lid as you shower, though that only lasts a couple minutes before he’s stripping and joining you. 

“Y’r not washing y’r hair right,” he tuts. 

Getting into bed is even worse because he’s practically lying on top of you the whole night, still sniffing your neck, and with his hands exploring your body. Not really in a sexual way, which is odd for him, but as if he just wants to feel you. He wants to feel your warmth, your softness, and reassure himself you’re home. 

Soon, he’s out cold and you mumble a goodnight against his forehead.

He wakes up feeling completely refreshed, like a newborn, stretching and grinning about getting ready with the day, and frowns when you’re still fast asleep. Part of him wants to make sure you’re getting your rest, but that part doesn’t win for very long and the much bigger part is shaking you awake.

“Come on, ma. Fucking bored here. Wake up, yeah? Let’s get some breakfast. Wanna talk to ya.” 

And when you do wake up, grumbling at how loud he’s being, he ignores the glares you’re giving and the swatting of his hands. Toji gives you a rare, wide, toothy smile and he says, 

“There’s my gorgeous girl. Good morning, baby.”

Yeah, this man totally missed you. 

Gojo does make megumi smile

they just get each other

I'm kinda into that whole vouyerism / polygamy thing with the avengers. It's kinda hot

Ok, what if it was tony's bday and he asks reader to give him a sex tape of her and Steve, But Steve only finds out about it when Tony shows the team I Love u baby♡♡♡♡

Happy Birthday Tony

Warnings: Language, Smutish-Smut Stuff

Here you go love! 

1 Week Earlier

“But it’s my birthday,” he says with a grin.

“So,” you fold your arms across your chest, “why would you even want something like that? Weirdo.”

“Oh p–lease, who doesn’t have a sex tape out there?” Tony’s question is rhetorical as he sits at his desk. “I know Romanoff does and the girl she’s in it with. First class. A-mazing. Wilson has more than one floating about, don’t get me started on Barnes, and we know I do.” There’s a devilish smirk on his face. He’s obviously proud of his tapes. “That only leaves Rogers. I know you and Rogers have been blowing off steam together.” He says the words with air quotes. “So, help me get some dirt on the boy scout.”

“No.”

“Come on,” he whines. “Please. For me.”

“As much as I love you, it’s not happening,” you remark. “That’s just weird.”

He folds his arms across his chest, “Okay then, you forced my hand.” He says the words with a finality that is scarily ominous. “I dare you.”

Your face falls, because in all the years you’ve known Tony, the two of you have always had a friendly game of dare going. Nothing too extreme, but you had never, ever backed down.

It’s a pride thing.

Keep reading

This is going to be the start of a new obsession

"Well, for one thing, he couldn't stop staring at my boobs." Part One: when I'm near you

Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven

Summary: Takes place after the androids gain freedom. Connor continues working with Hank at the police station, trying to adjust to his new emotions when Hank’s old partner, a bright young detective who is close with Hank returns and Connor becomes enamored with her. Connor x reader, lots of fluff, smut in later chapters ;)

A/N: This is my first time posting a fic here so any feedback to better it is welcome! Thanks if you read through it, I hope it makes you smile or at least exhale out of your nose.

“Hank!” A light voice called out across the police station. The Lt. looked around for a moment, clutching his head that no doubt was thumping with a hangover. But, his eyes that were squinted in annoyance at the sound of his name being called opened wide, and a grin spread across his face in a way Connor had never seen before, he found it fascinating how fast the Lt’s mood had shifted.

Not as fascinating it seemed to Connor’s now buzzing circuitry as the young woman who just walked in.

“Y/N!” Hank replied cheerily. He practically leaped up from his desk chair to wrap you in a bear hug. Hank pulled away and held you by the shoulders to look you over.

“Look at you! I heard you made detective already!” He said proudly.

“I did! And as it turns, I convinced the Captain at my other station that I would be most useful detecting things back home.” You smiled. Connor sat awkwardly across from Hank’s desk, observing the interaction as if he were watching a scene on a Tv show, and he couldn’t take his eyes off of the lead actress. His eyes traveled across your body, down your back, and over the curves there, he began to memorize your shape, you were a petite young woman, but you seemed to carry the confidence of a man twice your size with the way you carried yourself. Your eyes glanced up to meet Connors briefly before focusing back on Hank, the passing moment caused him to conduct an additional maintenance check on his thirium pump, it seemed to stutter when you looked at him. Connor noticed a slight blush crawl across your face, it made him smile, for reasons he was unsure of.

“So you’re back, back?” Hank asked leaning against his desk.

“Certainly am, and I pulled some strings and convinced Fowler to make me your partner again!” You told Hank. The Lt. released a relieved sigh and clapped his hands together.

“This is a godsend, no offense Connor but this is the best partner I’ve ever had. Y/N, Connor, Connor, Y/N.” Hank introduced you two as he plopped back down in his seat. Connor stood quickly, maybe too quickly, maybe not quickly enough? His mind seemed to stall; his processing time stunted.

“Ahem, Connor.” Hank coughed loudly and broke Connor out of his confusing thoughts and noticed with embarrassment that you had been holding your hand out to his ever since he stood up.

“Oh! My apologies, I was finishing… a report. Yes. A report. It is my pleasure to meet you Y/N. I look forward to working with you and Lt. Anderson on further investigations. I have done a quick search into your records and I am thoroughly impressed with your marks at the academy and at your hefty contribution to the rapid decrease in the crime rate at your last station.” Connor finished. For some reason his tie felt too tight, although he had no respiratory circulation to be cut off, it still felt like he was suffocating.  He managed to work up enough courage to look you in your eyes, but he feared he had made a mistake because now he didn’t wish to look at anything else. Connor cocked his head slightly, feeling overwhelmed by how your very presence was affecting him. His eyes now studied your hair, following the soft waves down your shoulders and to your chest where you wore a black tank top under your dark blue leather jacket. His eyes lingered there a moment too until a familiar slap to the back of his head brought him back.

“Connor! Let go of her hand goddammit!” Hank scolded him. Connor glanced down and saw he was still in fact shaking your hand.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Connor said immediately releasing your hand and looking to his feet, unsure of how to proceed. But just as he considered retreating into some other part of the station, he felt the weight of his social blunder slide off his shoulders, just by the sound of your laughter.

“No need to apologize, it’s a pleasure to meet you too Connor, Hank has told me quite a bit about you.” You say as you lean against Hank’s desk and crack your knuckles, making Connor frown.

“I haven’t harmed your hand in any way, have I?” He probed.

“Hm? Oh no, you’re fine, it was nice actually. I like men with firm hands.” You replied with a coy smile on your lips. Connor blinked nervously a few times, his LED flashing yellow before a reply could form.

“And your hands are extremely soft. I found the experience to be extremely pleasurable.” Connor said attempting to regain his composure.

“Pleasurable?” Hank asked with a sharp edge to his voice.

“Pleasant! An oral typo to be sure! I will join you both later. Pleasant to meet you Y/N.” Connor said and rushed off to another part of the station, leaving you and Hank alone.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------You and Hank watch with amused smirks as Connor retreated to the evidence room, to the holding cells, then to the break room, seemingly scrambling for any available task to be done.

“I may give him hell but Connor is a good kid Y/N. He’s a little…off but he’s still trying to figure himself off.”

“No, I like him.” You say quickly without thinking but Hank doesn’t seem to notice.

“Now that you’re back, I can stop doing all the work, finally catch a breather.” Hank yawned as he put his feet on his desk.

“Really? Connor seems like a good cop, very…observant.”

“How do you mean?” Hank asked with a raised brow.

“Well, for one thing, he couldn’t stop staring at my boobs.” You grin.

just two dark-haired, blue-eyed capricorn, born on the 22 of December, socially inept and unable to properly express emotions people communicating

It's my favourite too

I really like that stealth suit from [Winter Soldier], the navy blue one in the opening. That was my favorite one. It was so cool and it moved well and I could breathe. It was just great. - Chris Evans

Do yall think he'd bark for me?

Thanks for the request.

(maybe) distance makes the heart grow fonder (?)

You are extremely tired. Being mistreated, humiliated and talked down on the daily takes a toll on your body and you finally break down. There's not many people that would help you as you grieve the life you've lost and the life you might lose. But maybe some of them care about you more than you think.

Or: you decide to disappear for a while and some jerks miss you, part one. This will be a series~

You didn’t ask for any of that.

You didn’t ask for the dangers, the insults, the threats, the disrespect. 

Funny, there used to be a time in your life in which you’d be thrilled at the idea of a magical world, hidden from most people. You’d run away from reality inside your mind and make yourself the main character of a world in which people could blast magic from their fingertips and, somehow you, plain old you, would attract the attention of the most powerful and most beautiful person in that world. And then something something happily ever after.

You’d never guess that the middle - the “something something” you’d skip thinking about, so you could jump into the end of the story where the happiness is already yours - was the worst part of everything. And that there was no beautiful, powerful person coming to sweep you off your feet and save you from all the hurt.

In fact, the most beautiful and most powerful were the ones hurting you the most.

You scoffed.

If they ever swept you off your feet, it would be to knock you down in the mud and let you fester there, alone.

You looked at your phone, grasping it tightly. It was pinging and pinging nonstop. Messages from Romeo and Jin, you’d guess, but you didn’t even want to look at the bland stock wallpaper of that phone that wasn’t truly your own.

You wondered for a second what happened with all your belongings when you got to the Academy. Everything was ripped from you and you didn’t even know why. You couldn’t log into your personal, old accounts and you couldn’t contact anyone you knew before. It was all gone.

You were plucked from your own life, like someone would pluck an infesting weed.

You wondered if anyone thought of you. Your family, your friends. Did the anomaly erase their memories of you? Did it take that away from you as well? Or was everyone thinking you vanished without a trace, your parents begging the police to find you and your friends sadly looking at the spot you used to sit at in your classroom, reminiscing about the things you used to like as if you were gone forever. And maybe you truly were.

You didn't know which was worse.

Suddenly, an idea popped into your head. You couldn’t log into your old accounts, but maybe you could try to look at them, as a guest.

You sat upright against a large tree in the middle of Jabberwock’s field.

You were hiding in there, being the only space in which you could feel safe and be left to your own devices. 

Hotarubi was also welcoming, but you knew how Zenji would fret over you feeling depressed. Obscuary would also welcome you, but Lyca would never leave you alone, much less give you any space, if he knew you were sad like that.

Meanwhile, in Jabberwock, Haru was too busy, Towa wouldn’t speak because it was daylight and Ren was too emotionally constipated to feel like dealing with you, if he ever stumbled upon you there - which he wouldn’t. So Jabberwock it was.

You typed your old Twitter user on the search bar, feeling a wave of bitter nostalgia as you looked at the name that used to be so intertwined with your life. The page loaded slowly, since you were in the middle of nowhere and the internet was almost just a suggestion; and as the loading bar grew, your stomach churned inside of you, an uncomfortable feeling in the back of your throat setting in and reminding you that doing that was probably a very bad idea.

When you were about to close the tab, the page finished loading.

You were met with your old profile page. The already small following count seemed to be even smaller - people probably unfollowed you after all those weeks of inactivity - but that was barely registered on your mind. What caught your attention was the last tweet you had posted:

“Going to see the last show of my favorite band before they disband… this is the most tragic thing to ever happen in my life”

You blinked slowly, reading and re-reading the tweet you had posted on that accursed September 3rd in a loop.

And then you laughed.

You rested your head on your hands, phone flush against your forehead, and you laughed loudly, like you had just heard the funniest joke in the entire world.

And when the lump in your throat became too much for you to ignore, the laughter became a scream.

You screamed and screamed and screamed, as tears fell from your eyes in an endless flow.

You wailed like you hadn’t allowed yourself to do for all the time you’ve been in Darkwick. The grief came crashing down onto you mercilessly and you felt like you were drowning. You felt how your throat got hurt as you screamed, but the pain was nothing next to the weight of everything you had lost and everything you were going through.

You choked with your own saliva, retching painfully and feeling the metallic taste of blood, but the tears just wouldn't stop. You fell forward, curling into yourself and looked at the phone in your hand.

The irony of that tweet, the foreshadowing, was simply too much for you to handle.

You wanted to go back. 

You needed to go back to that time in which the saddest thing happening to you was a stupid band disbanding. 

You desperately wanted to go back to a time in which you didn’t have power hungry men insulting and humiliating you like you were lesser than human, calling you a servant, or a worm, or a bitch.

When you didn’t have a crazed psychopath threatening your life with a gun to your temple or a knife to your throat. 

When you didn’t have a guillotine hanging upon your head every single moment of your life, tick-tocking with the reminder of your imminent death.

You watched your tears fall to the grass, alongside the drool from your lips as you kept on crying loudly. It felt like it would never stop. You had too many tears long unshed to be able to stop, even if your throat was destroyed at this point, with how much you screamed.

The sound of grass being quickly stomped reached your ears for a moment, but you felt too weak to look up. You just kept on crying and moaning, now that your voice was almost gone.

A hesitant hand touched your back.

“Dandelion?” Towa’s voice reached your ears and you jerked up, flinching at his touch.

He was crouched right before you and you watched as his eyes widened and his eyebrows knitted together, concern being clear on his face. You were probably a dreadful sight at that moment.

“Towa…” you tried to say but your voice sounded raspy and barely audible.

His hands gently rested on your shoulders as he kneeled. “What happened, Dandelion?”

You noticed how he was talking despite it being daylight outside. The sincerity of his worry and his touch made the tears quickly come back, and you realized how starved of comfort and gentleness you were.

You shaking hands grasped his shirt and you slowly pulled him towards you, silently asking for a hug. Towa immediately complied, shifting his position so he could hold you.

This time, your tears were silent. You sniffed and cried quietly, wetting the fabric of Towa’s clothes as he held you close, hands tracing circles on your back.

Despite Towa’s unpredictable nature, he was patient. You knew that meant a lot. He liked you enough to stay still and let you cry without explaining yourself.

After a while, you began feeling self-conscious about being a bother and you forced yourself to untangle from his embrace, sniffling and rubbing your puffy eyes. His hands followed you and he kept his tight hold on your arms.

“I’m sorry I cried so much.” you whispered.

Towa shook his head and his eyes still glinted with worry.

“What happened?” he repeated.

Your lips quivered, but you swallowed the tears, feeling the burn in your throat.

“I’m tired.” you said, looking down. He hummed, not really satisfied with your short answer.

“I heard you scream. You’re so far away from our house, it took me some time to find you. I thought you were getting killed.” he leaned down, trying to keep his face in your field of view, and he looked as sad as he possibly could.

You chuckled humorlessly.

“I’m sorry. It’s just… Today was too much.”

Towa stayed in that awkward position, and he blinked at you, patiently waiting for you to continue and you realized he wouldn’t just let you keep things to yourself.

You sighed, which came out with a ragged sound since your nose was stuffy, and straightened your back so he could change his position.

“Not everybody is like you or Haru. Most people are very mean in this place. And I’m sick of it. They hurt me intentionally even though I did nothing wrong. I'm tired of it” you tried summing it up as best as you could, because you knew you would probably cry again if you told him how terribly you had been treated on that specific day and why it was the straw the broke the camel's back. 

He nodded.

“Yes, only Haru is nice. And you, Dandelion!” he smiled.

You smiled weakly, for what felt like the first time in a lifetime.

“Thank you, Towa. I really like you.”

Towa beamed at your words, hands gliding down your arms to hold your hands tightly.

“I love you, Dandelion!” he said, happily.

You knew he didn’t really mean it. Towa was, for some reason, obsessed with love and romance and you were pretty sure he would say it to anyone he liked. It did feel good to hear this after being so beaten down, though.

His face suddenly fell and he frowned.

“Let’s go to our house. You look sick. We can ask Haru to help you feel better!” he said, getting up and pulling you with him.

You knew there wasn’t any way to convince Towa to just let you be once he decided something, so you let him lead the way, taking clumsy steps behind him as you tried to find the strength to walk properly again.

I like who you can immediate tell who is who even without their model numbers

the RK Brothers