Mikasa Ackerman X Male Reader Novels & Stories

The New Year was just around the corner. While I was doing a thorough cleaning, I stumbled upon something beneath the couch. It was a damp, used condom, and it still had a faint lipstick stain on the edge. One thing I was sure of was that I didn't use this brand, but the lipstick color? It matched perfectly with my girlfriend Lindsey Stirling's.

Tracie Conner has saved my mom's life before, so I've given her ten chances to make mistakes. On the day of our engagement, Tracie fled the venue with her first love, Elton Stafford. I chose to forgive her. On the day my mom gets discharged from the hospital, Tracie and Elton can be seen making out passionately with each other at the main entrance. I merely ignore them. In the year after that, Tracie keeps making all sorts of mistakes because of Elton. But I treat her like the same and never take her behavior to heart. That's why Tracie begins acting out of hand, thinking that I will always love her. The tenth chance is used up when Tracie brings Elton to our marital home on our wedding day. When her best friend, Erica Frey, accidentally stumbles upon them during their deed, Tracie doesn't give a damn at all. "Elton is my first love. What's wrong with us using this bedroom to get closure? Besides, Jonas loves me so much. Even if he sees me cheating on him, he'll forgive me." I chuckle softly as I watch everything unfold from a corner. Tracie has used up her tenth chance. Now, I no longer owe her anything.

I’m the public lover of Tara Brewer, the underworld queen. She often dotes on me and treats me like I'm her most precious treasure, and she goes as far as to claim that she wants to give birth to ten children for me. But when I'm getting beaten up by others while completely drenched in my own blood, Tara doesn't recognize me at all. Instead, she turns to comfort her beau, Brandon Holden. "That filthy bastard has crossed you, honey! You can just beat him to death! I'll be your safety net!" Only then do I realize that Brandon is Tara's lover this whole time. As soon as Tara's words fall, she snatches the boxing gloves from Brandon and begins punching my face, which has a mixture of blood and tears streaking down my cheeks. At the same time, she says icily, "Don't worry. Once you're dead, I'll inform your wife so that she can pick up your corpse."

At midnight, I accidentally stumble upon the boss' daughter, Julianne Carter, pleasuring herself in the dimly-lit adult store. Her eyes are blindfolded, and her legs are spread on a special chair, where they are propped up on the arms. At the moment, she's cruising through the waves of pleasure uncontrollably. But when the chair malfunctions, Julianne is unable to free herself from the restraints no matter how hard she tries. That's when she starts calling for help. "Please… Please help me…" But I crouch down instead, allowing my fingers to glide across her thighs, past her calves, and back to her inner thighs. "Don't move. This chair's mechanisms are very complex. I need to study them thoroughly and slowly." "P-Please… hurry up…" I watch as Julianne's expression shifts from embarrassment to yearning. She finally stops struggling against the restraints when she breaks down from all the overwhelming sensations. "Give it to me… Please give everything to me…" Just as I'm about to yield, I hear the sounds of the boss, George Carter, opening the door coming from the outside. So, I quickly wheel Julianne into a nearby storeroom. That's where I see hyper-realistic molds that look exactly like Julianne.

Debt collectors showed up at our doorstep when my mother's company went bankrupt. They said they would break one of my mom's legs if the money was not repaid within three days. I swallowed my pride and went to my girlfriend Jasmine, who had a net worth of over a hundred million dollars. I begged her to lend me $500,000 to get my family through this crisis. It was the first time I had ever asked her for money. She frowned but still agreed, saying she would have her finance department transfer it to me that afternoon. I waited by my phone, refreshing my bank balance over and over, from daylight until nightfall. However, she suddenly went completely silent, ignoring my calls and messages. Anxious and restless, I tried to comfort myself, telling myself she might just be busy with something urgent. Still, saving my mom's leg could not wait. In the end, I had no choice but to take the watch my father left me before he died and bring it to an auction. I did not expect to run into Jasmine at the auction house with her childhood sweetheart, Lionel. She was spending money like it meant nothing, bidding on an expensive painting for him. The final price of that painting was exactly $500,000. She had not forgotten about me. It was just that my desperate emergency meant less to her than the man she truly cared about.

On the fourth day after our son died, I decided to end my military marriage. Before that, I spent three days taking care of what remained of him. On the first day, I tricked my wife into signing the cremation papers. On the second day, I went to my son's school and collected the textbooks he never had the chance to use. On the third day, I prepared a table full of his favorite dishes and begged my wife to come home so we could celebrate his birthday one last time. She agreed. Then she turned around, claimed she had a mission, and spent the entire night setting off fireworks with her childhood sweetheart. That night, I sat beside my son's memorial photo and ate alone. The next day, she came home looking guilty and handed me a brand new backpack. She said it was a gift for our son to use at school. She did not know that our child would never live to see his first day of school.

On the first day back after the New Year break, I returned to find my workstation gone—replaced by two large trash bins sitting side by side. "Josh, even though you've been with the company for ten years, you still have to comply with company arrangements. "You were supposed to be reassigned before the holiday. We held off so you could enjoy your New Year. You should be grateful." As he spoke, my boss pointed toward a corner beside the restroom. There sat a set of low, worn desk and chair—something that looked like it had been discarded by an elementary school. I set my bag on it. The desk wobbled twice, then collapsed outright. Amid the muffled snickers around me, I didn't argue or make a scene. I simply looked at the boss, calm and steady. "You don't have to go through all this trouble to force me out. I'll resign now. I'll forfeit the compensation—just process it as quickly as possible." His eyes lit up, though his face feigned regret. "Since you've made up your mind, there's not much I can say. But the Vespere chip you've spent ten years developing belongs to the company—you have no right to take it with you. "Oh, and when you handle the paperwork, don't forget to pay for that cup of coffee in your hand. It's an employee benefit. As an outsider now, you'll have to cover the cost." I nodded and signed the termination agreement without resistance. But the moment I stepped out of the company, I activated the self-destruct program embedded deep within the chip's core.

My dad is a fan of tough love parenting. When I was a kid, there was a time when I obtained full marks on two subjects. But he told me, "Your grades don't mean anything in life. If you were a true man, you'd leap down five floors without batting an eyelash." Some time later, I was awarded for my act of bravery. But Dad scoffed in my face. "Not even a hair is harmed on your head. Why should you be awarded anyway?" I thought Dad wanted me to go through more training in life. On Christmas Eve, he ditched me on a snowy mountain under the guise of wanting me to go through more training. He didn't give me a tent or a lighter. Later on, Dad even brags about his parenting method to his relatives and friends. "A real man should survive and thrive in a desperate situation! I told Julian that he can forget about being my son if he can't even make his way back to the summit!" But the red dot on the GPS tracker installed in his phone hasn't moved for the past three hours. The truth is, I've already frozen to death in the mountains. Trapped in my fist is a crumpled, torn scrap of paper. Meanwhile, my soul is currently floating above the dining table while watching Dad brag about his tough love parenting.

I, Julian Manning, am the top salesman at a car dealership, and I never refuse any customer's request. But today, I turn away a regular customer who comes in for a free maintenance service. My colleague is stunned. "Are you crazy? He's our biggest client who's about to buy the only 4-million-dollar top spec car in the store!" I nod and reply, "That's right. He's exactly the one I'm refusing." When the store manager sees the customer, Marvin Haas, angrily raise his phone to file a complaint, he rushes over to smooth things over. "Mr. Haas, please calm down. He's new and doesn't know better. Please come inside, I'll personally take care of everything..." I step to the side and block the entrance. "No. If you let him in, I'll resign right now." Marvin's face turns red with anger, and he points a trembling finger at. "I'm just here for a free maintenance. Is this really necessary?" I meet his gaze and say solemnly, word by word, "Yes, it is."

When I'm about to apply for medical insurance for my son, Connor Sawyer, who's about to start his first year in kindergarten, I'm told that I'm not his biological father at all. "Are you sure this is your son? The system shows that his father is an entirely different person." I don't respond at all. Instead, I secretly take a photo of the unfamiliar-looking address before tracking it down. It turns out that it's actually a residential area right by my own. The moment my wife, Giselle Lambert, sees me, she freezes momentarily. At the same time, she blocks the door subconsciously with her hand. "In the end, you still found out about the truth. But there's no use kicking up a fuss, you know. I never mistreated you in any way over the past three years, after all." When I notice the familiar figure standing behind Giselle, I feel my limbs going cold. That person is actually my younger brother, Vincent Sawyer, who has just graduated from college. Vincent hands Giselle a glass of water before smiling at me apologetically. "Don't blame me, Hayden. The doctor says that I'm severely depressed, so I can't handle hearing a child's cries at all. I'm really thankful to you for raising Connor on my behalf in the past few years." At that moment, Connor, who's supposed to be waiting for me in my car, rushes into the apartment. He runs into Vincent's arms happily before turning to look at me. "Don't cry, Uncle Hayden. Daddy says you're a good person, so he's asked you for help. Mommy tells me that if I call you 'daddy' in your home, I'll get to visit my real daddy during the weekends."