#and picking yourself up and dusting yourself off when you don't

[likedovesinthewindd]

out of service; part nine of sore loser ⋆ masterlist

summary: you're between a rock and a hard place | content/warning: art's redemption chapter let's go!!! explicit language, inaccuracies about university and tennis, angst, arguing, injuries (and descriptions of said inguries), patrick barely features in this one | tags: @midwestprincesss

"I'm going to be frank with you. You've been failing your classes."

You were picking at the skin on your fingers with a passion, taking another deep breath to try and control the tears you could feel already pooling in your eyes. "You're also aware of your scholarship's terms and conditions," your professor continued, "so you are aware that if you do bad academically, you could lose the scholarship?"

The torture on your hands had seized and moved on to you now picking the soft pieces of lint from your sweatpants. "Can you look at me, please?"

Your professor called your name softly, urging you to look at her. When you did, she spared you a sympathetic smile. "You are aware that you could lose your scholarship, right?" she asked again. You only nodded, the thought causing a knot form in your already dry throat. "Worst case scenario is they make you drop tennis so that you have more time to work," she continued. "I talked to your coach and—"

"You can't make me drop tennis. Please," you spoke up for the first time since you've entered her class. She sighed, biting at the inside of her cheek and giving you a small nod. "I understand you don't want to give that up," she tried, "and I know how hard you've worked to get where you are now. But something's got to give. It's either you step up and work on your grades, or your coach has to take you out of the team."

"I'll work harder, I promise. Just give me some time, please," you pleaded. Your professor only nodded with a placating look. "You're a smart girl," she stated, "you've just been a bit unorganized lately. You need to find your balance again."

The walk from her class to your dorm felt like a thousand miles, your mind swarming with thoughts. You always knew how to keep your head above water when it came to balancing the different aspects of your life, but recently, everything felt off kilter. It had now come to the choice of one or the other, and you didn't want to make that decision.

You made a detour to one of the practice courts, finding Art and one of his teammates practicing. You sat on one of the benches, hands rubbing over your legs as you watched them play. After a while, he bid his friend goodbye before making his way to you, plopping down next to you.

"Do you want me to practice with you?" he asked. You shook your head. "I didn't come to practice. I just came to clear my head," you said quietly, looking over at him. The small tresses of hair sticking out the front of his backward cap were slightly damp with sweat, a light pink dusting his cheeks as he took a few deep breaths.

"You alright?" he asked, watching as you slowly nodded. "Do you want me to go?" he asked, and you shook your head no. You clearly had a lot on your mind, but he decided to leave you, the two of you sitting in silence.

★ ⊹ ˚.

You drew in a deep breath, tightening your grip on your racket as you eyed your opponent. She had a smirk on her face as she bounced the ball in her hand before lifting her racket. You braced yourself, finding your footing. You were tired. Tired of the sun sitting idle above your head, tired of barely gaining any points. tired of this smug bitch looking down at you and tired of not winning.

It's a flurry of movement after she serves, the both of you playing like your life depended on it. On the pavillion, Art was watching attentively as the two of you moved. He could tell you were exhausted, your form becoming sloppy and unfocused as you desperately tried to keep up. He could see the desperation in your eyes, the frustration, and the need to win. You were starting to make dumb mistakes, and it was costing you.

It happened so fast, the one moment your opponent was hitting the ball with a force that had you scrambling to try and keep up, and the next, you were losing your footing, stumbling forward with nothing but an outstretched hand to break your fall.

You had tried to shake it off, tell yourself and everyone else you were fine, but as soon as the pain shot through your wrist and up your arm, you were writhing. The pain was almost blinding, soon turning to a dull ache that numb every other part of your body. It hurt so much, and you couldn't do anything but cry; cry because it hurt, because you had embarrassed yourself, because you couldn't play. All you could hear were the gasps of the crowd and the people approaching you in hurried steps.

★ ⊹ ˚.

You felt so overstimulated. The tears have dried on your cheeks and left tacky tracks on your face. Your eyes were red and swollen and hurt every time you blinked. The cheap plastic of the examination bed squeaked with every slight movement and prompted you to sit still, your right hand laid carefully on a pillow in your lap while the other one was being held in Art's much warmer hand, his thumb rubbing over the top of your hand carefully.

You looked down at your hand, at the dark blues and purples blooming around your swollen wrist as the dull ache settled bone-deep. You sniffled, tears once again settling in your eyes. Art's grip on your hand tightened as he brought your uninjured hand to his lips, placing a light kiss to the top of your knuckles. He looked at you apologetically as he saw the hopeless look on your face.

"I dunno what happened," you stated with a broken voice, watching as he continued placing kisses to your hand. "It's okay," he said, but you only shook your head.

The nurse returned with a fresh icepack, carefully placing it on your wrist before she looked at you forlornly. "I think your wrist might be broken, dear," she whispered as she placed a hand on your shoulder. "We're gonna have to get you to a hospital for an X-ray just to be sure."

You only nodded, watching as she walked away to call your parents. You looked over at Art, who still had your hand clutched in his, an expression matching yours on his face.

You had left the hospital late that night with a cast, a bag of painkillers and Art still by your side looking equally exhausted. "You didn't have to stay, by the way. I could've asked my roommate for a ride," you said watching as he opened the door to his car for you. "I don't mind," was all he said, waiting for you to get in.

When finally got back to your dorm, you thanked him, wrapping your arms around him in a hug. When his arms wrapped themselves around you, it was like everything came crashing down, a whole day's exhaustion and pain building up until there was no way but for it to pour out.

You found yourself sobbing in his arms, your face leaving wet tracks on his shirt as he held you tighter. You pulled away begrudgingly, taking your hand and rubbing angrily at your wet face. "I'm sorry," you said, looking down at the wet marks left on his shirt rather than his face. "It's okay," he said, his hand holding the side of your face and making you look up at him. "You're gonna be okay," he tried.

You sighed deeply, biting the inside of your cheek. "I fucked everything up," you said. He tried to calm you down, but you were already rambling. "What if I can't play anymore?" you asked rhetorically, "I'll lose everything. What am I supposed to tell my parents?"

"You're gonna be fine," Art repeated. "How do you know that?" you asked, frustrated at his calm demeanor. The angry tears made it hard for you to see, so you rubbed across your face again. "I know because I'm gonna be here," he answered, gently prying your hand from your face and looking into your reddening eyes. "Tennis isn't everything."

"It is to me," you answered quickly. "This is my only shot. It's all I have." Art's hand still held onto yours, feeling the way you squeezed it tighter. "That's not true—"

"Tell me I'm still good," you interrupted. "That I'll still be good," you pleaded. He said your name in a soft, placating voice. "Please," you begged. He sighed. "You're still good," he said softly, pulling you closely and placing a kiss to your forehead. "You're still good," he repeated against your skin.

You relished his soft touch and the feeling of being in his embrace, your good hand bringing his face down to yours to meet in a kiss. An unspoken desperation and gratitude passed from your lips to his and as if he could feel it, he hadn't tried stopping you, tongue greedily yet softly licking inside your mouth.

His mouth left yours, carefully grabbing your right hand and bringing it to his mouth, kissing the inside of your wrist over the hard plaster of the cast. Your mouth hung slightly open in a search of a breath as your left hand held the side of his face before his lips met yours once again.

★ ⊹ ˚.

#art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson #challengers x reader #challengers #likedovesinthewindd

[th3fam1lyd1ssap01ntm3nt]

RAAAAAHHHHHHH hello :3!!!

I am

Wondering if you would be ever so kind,,,

To write the monster au(or the hybrid au) of TF141 and I was like oh,,, Gaz no on list,,, who else,,, Johnny. Request thee Johnny, you could add the others for funsies as well, I don't mind the werewolf Johnny I like hims a lot as ,, but like, imagine, Male!user(I don't know what we call him erm male whatever the fuck his name is idk the WHORE sorry he's not maybe? Maybe he is actually idk it's male reader around those sluts 😠😠/HJ....) who usually kept his hybrid features hidden for god knows what reason because it's him??? He's just?? He's a little silly, but like "omg a human on the team grrr!!!" Is reaction from almost everyone until they warm up to him later and then he's just revealed as a moth hybrid :3 moth man, he squeaks when angry because moths can squeak and that's very interesting to me :3 and he just itty bitty plush like and plush size and shorter than them, but yeah they angry thinking he human, get close to the "human", they wake up early one morning, see the man they thought was human, but is a moth hybrid, standing in the kitchen, deadass staring into the kitchens light for god knows how long he was standing there, antennas just out as he's focused on the light, not even noticing them standing beside him, he's just staring at the light until someone turns that shit off and then he's just back like " ! " "When did you wake up???" Like .

PLLEAAAASEEEEEE PLEAAASEEEEEEEEE PPPLLLLEEAAAASEEEEEEEE I BEG FOR HIM TO HAVE SOME CHUB TO HIM I BEG FOR MOTH MALE READER WHO USES HE HIM PRONOUNS FOR THE HYBRID/MONSTER AU TF141 LEMSJWJSJS I want chubby male ones to be loved☹️

Have a wonderful day yahhhh‼️‼️‼️

RRAAAAHHH MY FIRST ASK!!!! (Omfg tysm u don’t know how happy this makes me :3 )

Lemme get this straight.. a moth hybrid! male reader x Werewolf! Johnny (Soap) Mactavish?? Ill see what i can do!!

(Inspired by the Monster AU by whisperrwarm on X, when I say INSPIRED I mean, not everything is the same!)

Characters:

John (Soap) Mactavish: A Werewolf

Simon (Ghost) Riley: A Wendigo

Captain John Price: A Dragon

Male Y/N: A Moth

Just a cute wee pudgy lad :3

Tw: Swearing, suggestive content, Male x Male

Since Anonymous wanted M! Y/N to be pudgy, I imagine that he would have the shape of something like this:

Moth Dust

(A Johnny (Soap) Mactavish x Male! Reader fic)

You, LN, FN, (last name, first name), who would have thought out of all possibilities of hybrids, you would be a moth. Not that its a bad thing, it was just rather annoying though.. you were picked on constantly because of it, your hight, your looks, and what made you insecure the most, your weight.

Not that you were huge, but you were fun sized, the perfect love handles, and the loveliest thing of all, your thick thighs. Aye, its like they say, ‘Thick Thighs Save Lives!’ You tend to hide your moth features though, fearing that a hybrid with predatoristic features might harm you.

I mean.. c’mon, you were a moth and there were damned stronger mutants out there.. its like the food chain with normal animals, and as embarrassing as it was, many things ate bugs. And what are you a hybrid of? A bug. Well.. a domesticated silk moth to be more specific, but still!

Being a moth you were fluffy and small, and well.. adorable. But you never though of yourself as that short.. until you joined the military that is-

“Bloody fucking christ! How fucking big does a man need to be here?!?” You thought to yourself once you actually saw how large the men in Task Force 141 where. There was one in particular who stood intimidated you from his height, Simon Riley, better known here as Ghost, and he stood a strong 6’2”!!

He could easily fucking squish you like the bug you are if he wanted! You were intimidated by the other men slightly, I mean, c’mon! Your captain is a fuckin Dragon for Christ sake!

But wow… boy were they lookers though- there was one in particular who stood out to you the most, he looked like a dog hybrid, but that didn’t seem right for some reason? What stood out to you the most was those elegant.. enticing.. wonderful blue eyes…

(Not finished, currently busy, will finish soon!)

#call of duty #john soap mactavish #:3 heehee #:3 #your honor im obsessed #cod #:33333 #im gnawing at the iron bars of my enclosure #soap x male reader #werewolf soap AU

[duuhrayliegh]

consequences

a/n: I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE THIS CAME FROM BUT HERE YOU GO

also i'm more than happy to continue this if yall want more, just LET ME KNOW

other works

“You want to what?"

"To open our relationship."

You stare at him in disbelief, clutching the soft blanket in your hands. There's a sharp ringing sounding through your eardrums and everything around you slows. He keeps talking, his voice breaking through the barrier of fog that encompasses your senses.

"I want us to remain honest with each other, but this is the only way to keep our relationship healthy."

He steps away from the kitchen counter, wearing the sports jacket you bought him for your sister's wedding.

"I want the both of us to disclose when we start dating someone else. That's the main boundary, we can hammer out all the ground rules later. Right now, I'm going on a date, so uh," he pauses as he checks his reflection in the mirror beside the door one last time, "don't wait up."

You try to focus on his words, but no matter your efforts you weren't able to process anything. His keys jangle in his grip and you faintly recognize the sound of the door slamming closed and his footsteps echoing down the empty corridor of your apartment.

"I still can't believe he said that to you."

The singular ice ball hits against the sides of your glass with each tilt of your wrist. You take a long drag of the dark liquor before laughing sardonically.

"It's been six months of him parading his dates around." Another sip, your work skirt digs into your thighs painfully. You distract yourself by reaching for a peanut from the nearly empty bowl. "And what's worse is that he still expects me to be the doting wife that he comes home to every night!"

The bartender refills your glass while you sneak another peanut. You card your fingers through your hair as you continue to rant. A dull throb radiates in between your brows so your eyes slide closed as you take deep breaths.

"Well, I can't imagine you're doing so bad yourself."

You hum questioningly at the man, focusing your gaze on the dark-haired bartender, his stubble dusting his sharp jaw as the muscles work beneath the skin. His eyes haven't left you since you sat down in front of him.

"I see you in here." You begin to pick at the skin around your nails and he nudges a bowl of peanuts in your direction. "Men come up to you all the time. You've been on dates too, right?"

You reach for a peanut and crack open the grainy shell, biting the inside of your cheek. Your bartender laughs incredulously and then presses his hands into his side of the counter to lean over toward you. The cloth he tosses over his shoulder must be damp because the fabric of his white button-up is darkened there.

"Focus on me, Peanut."

Your eyes snap to his, unable to keep the overflow of expression from brimming beneath the surface. Your heart cracks further as he visibly softens, crumpling against the counter to cover your hand with his. A tense silence stretches between the two of you, charging the air with unwelcome emotions.

Your bartender’s spare hand cups your jaw and swipes away the glistening tears fleeing down your cheeks. Sniffling loudly while straightening in your seat, you pull away from his touch—effectively stopping yourself from melting into him.

You’ve worked so hard to make this shitty dive bar your safe place, you’ll be damned if you ruin it with a fling.

“I don’t even know why I’m wasting tears on this whole thing.” You take three deep breaths—whiskey and apples invade your senses. The man in front of you tilts his head to the side while drying a few crystal glasses.

“You’re avoiding my question, Peanut.” He turns briefly and you try to figure a way out as the cups clink softly. “You have been dating too, right?”

Your teeth trap your bottom lip, peeling off the thin layers of skin. You purposely avoid his eyes, doing less than nothing to hide your answer.

“Jesus, Peanut. What’s stopping you?”

You huff, focusing your attention on the patrons around you. There’s noticeably less than there were when you first arrived. The bar guests go about their business, underlying emotions kept close to their chest and out of sight to everyone else. You wish you could be that way, instead of sewing your heart to your sleeve for anyone to rip pieces from.

“I--" You hesitate, twirling your glass, watching as the ice fights to keep up with the sudden movements you force on its surroundings.

"Some small part of me still loves him. No matter how much he hurts me with this whole open relationship bullshit. I'm still thinking that one day he'll wake up and remember that I've been his loving wife and partner for the past six years. This can't be my new reality. It just can't. He's meant to be my partner for life, not my partner who has really good friends. Not my partner with a girlfriend or some fuck buddy across town."

This is the can of worms that you'd hoped to keep locked away from the Commando's dive bar. What you've held close to your chest every night you slink past the blonde bouncer, Steve. The information you never let slip to the six-foot-five bartender with the metal arm. And now, you can't seem to stop the words from leaving your mouth.

"He's supposed to be my husband. Why isn't he my husband? Is it me? He said that we would talk about what the reason was, but I can't get him to sit down with me. I can't even get him to reply to a text, much less answer questions about our relationship."

You spit the last word before downing the rest of your drink in one go. Bucky stands patiently as you let loose every emotion that you've bottled up for the past six years. Further in the bar, someone shouts for the last call.

"Why don't I date? Because I love him. Because outside of him, I don't know who I am. I don't date because I've been with the same man for almost a decade and I wouldn't even know where to begin. I can't see past where I'm at right now. There is no future for me outside of the hell that I find myself in now. I can't date because I want to be there for when my husband remembers that I exist. I want to be there for him like he wasn't for me because I know the novelty of his flings will wear off soon enough. And maybe that makes me worse than him, but I don't know if I have the energy to care anymore."

There's now a heavy silence covering you and your whole body slumps because of it. Despite feeling the biggest breath of relief of getting those emotions out in the open, you now have to deal with what they mean. You were always taught that saying your emotions out loud would only lead to more issues, but here you fucking are. Sometimes these things are unavoidable.

"I call bullshit."

Your jaw drops as your bartender rocks away from the counter. You flounder as he starts performing closing duties. You stare at Bucky's back, slightly distracted by the muscles working underneath the tight material.

"Did you just bullshit my feelings?"

Bucky turns halfway, eyebrows raised, "Yep."

Your bartender plucks the glass in front of you and drops it in the sink on his way to the cash register. If you were in a whole state, you'd smack back with a witty comment, but you're tired.

"You can't bullshit my feelings."

He holds a stack of twenties in one hand and he pins you with the same expression as before.

"Uh, yeah I can."

He continues to count the register and tosses a goodbye to the other bartender. A long lull stretches between you. Now it's just the two of you in the bar, and that must have been what he was waiting on because it's only now that he really talks.

"Peanut, how long have you been coming here?"

You furrow your brow at the question, not sure where he's taking his line of questioning.

"I don't know, four months?"

“Four months, twenty days."

Bucky's retort is quick and final. A fact. Something he's committed to memory. You're taken aback by the heavy tone he layers between the syllables.

"And for those four months and twenty days, I've stood behind this counter and watched you wallow. I've watched you turn down proposition after proposition. I've had Steve throw out dozens of men for how they speak about you. I've sat back and tried to be the listening ear that you need because you're clearly going through a really difficult time. I've never been in the position that you're in and I'm not going to pretend that I understand the half of it."

He slams the drawer closed and rounds the countertop. His boots thud against the floor violently, stopping beside the barstool next to you. Your bartender leans down and swings your stool to face his before taking a seat.

"I've stood behind that bar and was able to listen to quite a bit. But what I can't have is you thinking that you're the issue."

His hand slips into yours, his thumb tracing the knuckles of your fingers. Tears begin to brim at your waterline again, but you refuse to let them fall.

"Peanut, you're the most loyal person I've met in recent years. You love fiercely and you hurt even harder. Hell, you've been with this guy for almost ten years and he's been fucking you over for the past six months and you're sitting in this bar defending him to a relative stranger!"

"But he--"

"You're husband took the decision away from you and then framed it in a way that made you out to be the bad guy. He put you in a nearly impossible situation because he knew you were too loyal to him to do anything about it."

"He didn--"

"Yes, he did."

Having it laid out like that by the one person you wanted to be kept away from all of it was eye-opening. Your shoulders crumple and a new wave of tears threatens to escape.

"Now, this isn't the best time, but I feel like in a situation like yours there's never going to be a 'right' time."

Bucky sits up straighter and sticks his metal hand out to you.

"Hi. I'm Bucky Barnes. I'm a retired Army Sergeant and I now work in the Howling Commandos bar. I've been your bartender for the past four months and twenty days. Over that time, I've grown to care for you, more than a bartender should. Because of that fact, I want to take you out on a date."

You suck in a breath sharply, immediately going to deny him, only for Bucky to cut you off.

"You don't have to give me an answer right now, Peanut. Just think about it and whenever you're ready, I hope I'm your first call."

You chew on the inside of your cheek, gnawing on the idea. You have grown fond of Bucky. He's become a sort of safety net for you these past few months. Going home has proven to be more and more of a chore so you spend hours on end in the Howling Commandos.

What if you and Bucky go on a date and you hate it? What if you date and you have a huge falling out? What if you--

"I can see the wheels turning, Peanut." He taps your temple with a cold metal finger. "What are you thinking?"

"What if we end up not working out?"

"What if we do?"

The question hangs. The implication is clear. You could spend hours going through the what-if scenarios, both positive and negative. You'll never truly know until you take a leap of faith.

"What would your boss think of you dating one of your new regulars though?"

You're grasping at straws, but you're really trying to convince yourself that taking that leap with Bucky would be the worst thing in the world.

"Peanut, I'll sell the damn bar before someone other than you tells me that I can't date you."

Your eyes meet his and all you can see is the adoration and sincerity in them. His thumb is still working over your knuckles, but it's also expanded to tracing aimless circles into the back of your hand. The cool metal is the only way you've grounded yourself to reality.

A slow smile spreads across your features, the first of its kind tonight and you both know what it means.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bartender!bucky #bartender!bucky x reader #bartender!bucky barnes x reader #seb stan #sebastian stan #sebastian stan character #seb stan character #seb stan x reader #sebastian stan x reader #bartender!bucky x you #bartender!bucky x peanut!reader

[luveline]

I NEEEEEED MORE STRIPPER!READER X SPENCER

fem, 1.2k

You and Spencer aren't dating, but he thinks you might be in the before. 

"You're home!" you say, clambering at the door to slip out of your shoes. You throw yourself at him as soon as you're close enough, the salted caramel and sandalwood of your new perfume washing over him. "You're here! I missed you." 

Spencer tries not to blush. He wishes you weren't so close —his hair is lank from two days unwashed, his five o'clock shadow obvious and embarrassing. If you notice anything unappealing about him you don't give the slightest inclination, your arms crossing over his back as you drive your face into his neck. 

"I can't believe how much I missed you, Dr. Reid," you say warmly. 

"I missed you too." Morgan would laugh at him for being this earnest, maybe comment on his lack of charisma, but Spencer doesn't know how else to show that he's interested beyond sincerity. 

You step back but work your hands up his neck and into his hair, raking it away from his cheeks. "That's better. I can see you better now." 

Spencer thought he remembered only horrible things from being a teenager, but he remembers this feeling, sweaty-palmed, heart-racing want. You tilt his head gently one way and then the other like you're following the motion of a wave, fingertips scratching in his hair, the sensation stirring the very pit of his stomach. No trace of tiredness remains on your face, only spritely joy to see him. 

"That feels nice," he confesses. He's not weird about it, more friendly. 

Your aswering grin tells him he nailed the casualness he was aiming for. 

"You've been working hard," you say, tucking his hair behind his ears and dusting down his shoulders, "I can tell. You look tired." 

"You don't. Short shift?" 

"Is it weird that bad weather genuinely keeps people home? I guess they prefer their wives when it's cold." 

"No, really? Who could ever pick the woman they married over you and those silver shorts?" he teases, peeling out of his sweater.

The shirt underneath is rumpled, but he doesn't care about that. Anything to be seen between you has been seen. Spencer has, unquestionably, seen you half naked. You've seen him in his boxers, so you're just about square. "Idiots, all of them." 

You're staying with him again while a security company fits your apartment with the appropriate trappings. Or, that was the initial reason. Spencer went with you to assess after it was done, discovering black mould in the corner of your bedroom and spreading its evil way across the bathroom ceiling. 

What is that? he asked, knowing what it was, hoping you'd at least pretend to be concerned. 

That's fifty bucks off a month, Spence. Don't look so horrified. 

"I missed you," you say for the third time in as many minutes. "And I hoped you'd be home, so I brought Chinese food for two."

You and Spencer change into pyjamas, and it's cliche but whatever, you look beautiful undone —he's not stupid enough to lie to himself about how he feels when you're wearing your little outfits, but he prefers this side of you a thousand times over because you like it better. You wear your prized baseball tee, white with blue sleeves, and a pair of sweatpants pushed up high on one leg while you ice your sore knee. He sits cross legged opposite, jabbing his chopsticks into one of your crispy spring rolls just to watch you gasp. 

"Can I ask you something too personal?" 

You rub down the length of your naked calf, sighing as some of the tension releases. You're more bruise than girl lately, splodges of tender skin patterning the inside. "What don't you know about me, at this point?" you ask. 

Like it's a good thing. Like you're glad for it. 

"Are you making enough money?" he asks. 

You steal back your spring roll, answering him through rice paper and greens, "Kind of. Not tonight, but enough for dinner. I'll be okay." 

"Did you think about it?" 

You shovel through your waxy box of rice, shrugging. "I thought about it, but… it's not realistic. What office would take me? What drug store?" 

"I could loan you the money while you apprentice, and get some experience, you could go back to school–" He says it all in a rush and you still knock him down. 

"It's real sweet of you, Spence, it is, but I couldn't let you do that. That makes me your charity case, and not your friend." 

"What else do you do for the people you care about?" he asks. Let them stay at a job they don't like, even if they're good at it, one that puts them statistically at higher risk for femicide or assault? 

"I wouldn't need a loan, Spencer, I'd need more than you have," you say gently. "I'd have to start my life from scratch. How would I pay rent? You couldn't afford to keep us both." 

"You could stay with me again." 

You shake your head. "You're the best friend I've ever had, which is why I'm saying no." 

He doesn't get what you mean, but you finish your dinner and help him clean up. He more than trusts you to stay here alone while he's on a case, you've honestly left it in better condition than you found it, and he insists you sleep in his bed again while you're here. 

"Don't be silly," you say, throwing a sheet out over the couch. "This is your place. You need to sleep in your own bed." 

The disaster is that it smells like you. Spencer says goodnight to you reluctantly and leaves you on the couch with every throw blanket he owns, climbing into his own bed and pulling the comforter up to his nose. He imagines you here at night, your body wash still clinging to your skin from a late night shower, your hand tucked under his pillow. There are so many things he'd like to give you, if you'd just let him. 

He spends a quiet thirty minutes like that, missing the warmth of your skin and your casual touching, wishing he could offer you the fresh start you desire, even if it meant he wasn't involved. 

The couch springs creak as you toss and turn, the sound finding it's way down the short hall from the living room slash kitchen to his bedroom. Hesitant, Spencer shifts in bed, hitting that one coil in his mattress just right, the twang resounding.  

You appear in his doorway with your borrowed pillows crushed to your chest not long after that. You don't need to ask, Spencer doesn't need to answer. He can't give you everything that you want, but he can give you a quiet, comfortable night next to someone who loves you. 

Ever well-tempered, you slip into the sheets beside him and curl up toward him, your fingertips brushing his side. You don't look at him in the dark, but you mumble sleepily, fingers twitching, "Night, Spence." 

You're out like a light. 

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

[specshroom]

*°~There are many benefits to being a mage~°*

Includes: Fem reader x male orc, size kink, "human fetish", friends to more?

In which: Orc with a big problem confides in his mage friend who decides to help him out with a useful spell~🪄

You've been in this town for quite a while now, almost 3 years. That wasn't the original plan but It just so happened that this seaside town was more welcoming than many places you've been to on your travels. It sits at the coast of two major trade routes, connecting people of many different walks of life.

The friendliness and diversity you experienced allowed you to make a few friends you might not have otherwise.

Like the one you're sharing breakfast with right now. His name is Grimmok and he's the self-proclaimed, "Best fisherman in this damn town". He's your typical young, burley orc.

The first time you met him was in the local pub, you were intrigued when a crowd formed infront of the huge orc. He was dramatically telling one of his fisherman's tales and the small crowd hung onto his every word. He was a very good story teller and you happened to be very interested in folklore and myths. You made a habit of just walking up to him, if he didn't look busy and asking him to tell you a story. Soon it wasn't uncommon to see you sitting on the docks listening and writing intently as he waxes on about some old wives tale while repairing his nets.

Now you sit in his home, eating breakfast while he grumbles on about having to train a new fishing boy.

"The boy gets distracted by the smallest things, every time someone even resembling female walks past the docks he's panting like a dog." Grimmok bites into his ridiculously large breakfast sandwich signaling the end of his rant.

He did look more grumpy than usual when he opened the door to let you in for your weekly Sunday breakfast. His shoulder length black hair was tied into a hasty half up half down bun and his stubble looked more scruffy than usual. You can only huff in amusement at his troubles.

"Cmon, don't be too harsh on the kid. You did the same thing with Rosie Cotton, remember?"

The orc stills and huffs indignantly, scratching at his neck. This makes you grin.

"Mhm, you'd be telling me a story and then just stop in the middle of a sentence. I'd look up and sure enough there's Miss Rosie walking on by. Fiery hair flowing in the wind, cleavage spilling out her dress, swaying those hips and-"

Grimmok interrupts your overdramatic musing by flicking your pointy hat off your head.

"Hey!"

"You're acting like you didn't like looking at her too." The big guy grumbles almost like a child. He wipes his hands on his plaid pajama pants and picks up his empty plate, heading towards the sink.

You lean down to pick your hat off the floor, dust it off and mumble,

"Yeah, but I never got to bed her."

The dishes in the sink clatter a little too loudly as he tenses up. You hardly try to stifle your laugh.

"We didn't actually...she was...too small... For me to...." The orc struggles out as he wipes his plate clean.

It's quiet for a minute until you ask.

"But she did try, right? I'm pretty sure that counts, Grim."

The orc just grumbles something unintelligible. You want to sympathise with the poor guy but imagining Rosie Cotton, a "short stack" type of woman, trying to fit his massive green cock in her little pussy was pretty erotic.

"I want to feel bad for you mate but you kind of bring this on yourself. You obviously have a bit of a human fetish."

"It's not a-" The orc goes to defend himself but stops and just sighs when he realises it's no use.

"...and a size kink to boot." You mumble with toast in your mouth.

"I can't help it if I think horny humans trying desperately to take my cock is literally the hottest thing to me!" Grimmok finally lets the dam of sexual frustration burst after you've done a sufficient amount of poking at it. You always were good at getting him to actually talk about his problems.

"But the problem comes in when I actually have to fuck them, they can barely take half! How am I supposed to fuck them!? I'm too big! I'd kill them!"

You can't help but choke on your toast as a cackle forces itself from your throat. "Sorry. I'm sorry!" You struggle between snorts. Your big green friend just stands there with a grimace, arms crossed as he waits for you to finish.

You sigh and wipe your watering eyes. "Well, I'm glad you've confided in me because now I can help you." You wipe your hands clean and stand up from the orc sized table.

"You know that cool thing I can do with my hat?" You take your hat off and reach inside of it, the magic pocket space allowing you to reach your whole arm inside of it when you physically shouldn't be able to.

He nods sceptically still leaning against the sink, a bit concerned about where this is going. He thought by "help" you meant like you were going to pep talk him or something.

"We just have to do this but with...." You gesture down to your crotch.

Grim stands there, mouth slightly agape, blinking at you.

"I mean it's not exactly the same obviously." You pull your trusty spell book out of the hat before placing it back on your head while the pages of the spell book fly open to the page you want. "You basically draw this sigil on someone and then they'll be able to take whatever they can push inside no matter how big. Girth might still be an issue though..."

You explain this to him like you've explained many other spells, like you're reading him a recipe, deliberating what ingredients would work best. He doesn't even know how to react honestly.

"You're serious?"

You clap the book shut and adjust your hat on your head, smugly shrugging,

"This is what I do."

The poor guy just stumbles in disbelief.

"Magic, I mean.... Magic is what I do." You correct yourself a bit awkwardly and clear your throat, regaining your confidence.

"It's a pretty easy spell so we can try this whenever you want really."

"We?"

"Alright! Alright."

"Well yeah, unless you want me to go up to Rosie Cotton and say "Hey love, you mind if I put this sigil on your womb so my friend can finally pound your tight little-"

Grimmok rubs his face with his hands, sighing again and looking unsure. You lean against the sink next to him, barely coming up to his pecs.

"Look, it'll just be a one time thing so you can actually see if human pussy's all that and if you like it, I'm sure we can find plenty of humans who would love to try it out."

"...Alright. That sounds good."

You give a slap to his thick bicep and an encouraging "ata boy."

"and if you don't like this one, I'm sure I could find a spell that'll just make you..." He doesn't miss how you glance down at his crotch. "Smaller."

He huffs and pushes your shoulder playfully, he liked how you could always joke away the tension in any given situation. You walk up to the big wooden chair you were sitting at a second ago and pull it away from the table so that it's facing outward, struggling a bit as it's very much orc sized like most things in his house.

"Cmon. Sit."

You pat the chair, looking at him expectantly.

"Now?"

He's really not used to other people being so forward especially not when it's his mate. You shrug at him.

"Why not? I mean we can wait till you're ready, I don't mind. I have literally all day."

You put your hands behind your back and rock on your feet as you both just stand in his kitchen for about a minute...waiting. He eventually huffs and steels himself, fully committing to the idea and walking over to plop himself in the chair. He's going to put his dick inside one of his best mates.

You place your hat on the table so it doesn't get in the way of your activity and step in front of him. You levitate your spell book In front of you, looking down at the page with the sigil that's way more familiar than you're letting on.

"Okay, I'll face this way so it's less....personal." You turn around so your back is facing him. "You do still need to take off your pants though."

He smacks his teeth, "I figured that." He mumbles, pushing his soft pajama pants down to his mid thighs, immediately freeing his cock as he wasn't wearing underwear. He leaves his white long sleeve on, the sleeves folded to his elbows, giving you a perfect tease of his thick strong arms and multiple tattoos. When he looks back at you and sees that you've already disappeared your pants, he quickly looks away.

Sensing his nervousness you ask with a softer voice than before,

"can I sit?"

He clears his throat before grumbling a "Yeah."

You gently lean down and sit your naked ass onto his lap, legs open wide over his own you can see his half hard cock laying between his legs but try not to stare. Obviously Grimmock is a big guy but he's even big by orc standards so of course his cock is massive even when he isn't fully hard.

Grimmock clears his throat and jolts you out of your thoughts. You adjust a bit on top of him feeling his happy trail against your lower back. Your eyes skim the page levitating in front of you, when you finally find the incantation passage you straighten up and start chanting the ancient words in the text. Your eyes glow and the air feels static, Grim has seen magic before but the novelty never truly wears off.

An intricate shape starts to form right above your pubic bone, where your womb would be. The sigil glows brightly on your skin as Grim peers from above your head to look at it. At first glance he thinks it looks a bit demonic but then remembers he doesn't know anything about magic and decides not to mention it. When the sigil is complete you clap the book shut, immediately cutting off the static energy in the room and startling him in the process.

"That should do it."

You place the book on the table and lean back against his clothed chest, feeling the tension in his body not letting up.

"Damn, I can't believe little Miss Rosie took half of this. What a lass."

Your joke lightens the mood once again as Grimmock scoffs at you. Feeling him relax, you bring your hand down to finally touch the wetness that's been growing for awhile now. "We should still do some prep before you put it in. Is that alright?"

He nods and watches your hand disappear between your thighs. You readjust so that your boot clad feet are on either side of the chair rests. Opening yourself up to the air and to him, he can see you've already got two fingers pushing inside. He hesitates before reaching for his cock and slowly starting to stroke himself under you but it was painfully clear he was holding back.

"I know I'm not as short or.... endowed as Miss Cotton but I could put on a red wig if you'd like."

Grim huffed a laugh at the mental image of that.

"Oh wow~ Grimmie, you're soooo big and strong~"

You say in a high pitched voice (that doesn't sound anything like Rosie Cotton), using her embarrassing pet name while looking up at him and batting your eyelashes dramatically.

Grim scoffs and holds his hand over your mouth "Stop playing around." He tries to sound serious but his smile and the grumble in his chest betrays him. You laugh against his hand holding his wrist. You slowly pull his hand off your mouth and inch it gradually down your body giving him ample time to pull away. He doesn't and you move his hand to rub against your wet pussy ever so gently.

You're both looking into each other's eyes, this was not supposed to be so intimate but it doesn't look like he minds when he takes charge and slowly eases two fingers inside your aching pussy. His thick fingers stretch your pussy so good as you lightly buck into his hand, greedy pussy already hungry for more. The way he's looking down at you with so much need gets you so hot inside. A heat that only increases when he starts pumping his fingers in and out. Grim works you open with one hand and pumps his fat cock with the other.

This entire situation has you pent up and impatient so you pull his hand away and sit up, "I can take it now." He can't help but groan at your words but remains concerned at the perceived lack of prep. Whenever he fools around with humans most of the engagement is spent just doing prep so he's more than a little worried, "Are you sure?"

You don't reply as you gently take his fully hard cock from his hand, holding it up against your stomach to see how far inside you this thing could go. You both groan at the comparison between his ridiculously massive dick and your body, he reaches way past your belly button and into your stomach. Definitely more than a human could safely take. You adjust your legs so that you're almost squatting on his lap, your feet plant on the seat on either side of his hips.

You support yourself with your hand resting on the seat between his legs and lift yourself so you can rub your wetness along the length of his cock. He brings his rough hands to hold your hips gently, not applying pressure but just resting there so he can have something to hold.

You lift yourself up until his tip is in-line with your entrance, slowly rubbing it against your clit. You both groan lightly when the tip pops in and you slowly ease yourself down his cock. He's amazed at how easy your cunt swallows him. You pause half way down to adjust and give a few pumps to the rest of him before your hand leaves his cock to settle next to your other hand on the chair in front of you. He squeezes your hips a little in silent concern and you smile before easing the rest of him in, gently descending until you reach the hilt. Your pubes kiss his and he can't help but let out a weak moan at the sight and feeling of you taking all of him. Finally feeling tight walls grip the entire length of his cock has him reeling. You're overwhelmed as well, It's been a while since you've taken someone this big.

You slowly circle your hips around so that you really feel his cock against your walls deep inside you, you're obviously very pleased with yourself. Grim is seeing stars, eyes shut, head tilted back, trying to regain himself even a little while his literal dreams are coming true.

"Well, we know it works. I guess that's it then." You move to lift yourself off his cock as if your work is done.

"Nononono, Please no. Please."

Comes Grim's hasty but soft displeasure, both his thick arms circle around your waist to keep you in place as he leans against your back, head resting on your shoulder.

"What's the matter big guy?" You lean into his chest, stroke his arm and turn your head to look at him. He huffs, you know exactly what's the matter. He takes a deep breath and lifts his head to look at you.

"I need you."

Your heart jumps in your chest.

"I need you to fuck me...please."

You look up at him, wide eyes, mouth agape as he looks back down at you. The moment is almost sweet until your mouth forms into an evil grin and you snicker softly, a dreadfully familiar mischievous glint in your eyes. Grim closes his eyes and almost regrets all the choices that lead him here.

"Riiight~. I almost forgot, this is probably the first time you've actually been able to fuck someone sooo much smaller than you."

"Poor guy, you must be so pent up, huh?"

You reach down to gently hold his massive ballsack, making him suck in a breath and twitch his thighs.

All he can do is let out a choked moan of your name which only makes you chuckle.

"I can really play the part for you, if you'd like. Y'know the, "Ah, your so deep!" and "You're filling this human pussy up so good!""

You laugh when you feel his dick twitch. Poor Grim can only grip your waist and try to keep his hot face from getting hotter. He looks down at you with pleading eyes and you decide you're not so evil after all. You pat his arms and move them so he's holding your waist. He startles a little when you playfully kiss him on the cheek.

"I've got you big guy."

You lean forward again with your feet under you and start to lift yourself up very slowly until the top of his cock is juuust about to pop out. Your thighs burn as you stay there for a few seconds, teasing Grim and yourself. Grim thinks he might actually cry if you don't move.

Suddenly you grip the edge of the chair and force yourself down hard on his cock, taking him all the way to the hilt in one hard thrust. You both groan very loudly, he downright yelps with the sudden movement. You grip the chair and clench around him so hard he can't help the way he grips your waist tightly. One hand covers his mouth as he tips his head back and tries to not cum immediately. He tries to regain his breathing but you have other plans. You can feel him twitch inside you and a desperate need to be filled engulfs you.

You start thrusting up and down on his dick, moving your whole body up and down his length. It's a good thing he can't see your face because you are enjoying this way too much. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you bite your lip, the sensation of being filled to the literal brim is intoxicating. You work yourself and him so diligently, it's no time before your thrusts become more frantic and you're right at the peak. With one final deliberate thrust you cum hard around him, clenching and unclenching like you're trying to milk him dry.

You both moan freely now, though his are more like growls. Your pulsing walls quickly lead him to his own climax, holding you close to his chest and thrusting up into your cunt, spilling hot seed deep inside your womb. You shake and squirm even more with the blissful feeling of your walls being coated with his spend.

After a few moments of you two spasming and twitching you eventually ease up and fall limply against his chest, adjusting your thighs to rest on top of his again. You breathe out a long sigh and bask in the fullness of your cunt, stroking your stomach up and down.

You're blissfully unaware of the knowing smirk that grows on his face. He cards his fingers through his hair, composing himself a little more. His warm hand joins yours in caressing up and down the expanse of your stomach and chest, loving how small you feel in his hold.

"You've done this before." His voice comes out in a low growl that makes you shiver, not expecting it. You crane your head up to see him smirking down at you and all you can do is sit and stare. He chuckles deeply,

"There ain't no way, this is your first time taking a cock this size."

You stumble for words but none come out. His hands caress your thighs and one hand comes up to gently hold your jaw. He leans down really close to your face.

"You're a size queen."

You suck in a breath and your pussy clenches involuntarily around his cock which you only noticed now hasn't gone down at all. Grim laughs louder this time.

"I should've known the second you pulled out that spellbook."

You sit there, quite embarrassed at being caught. You smack his hand away from your waist.

"Shut up, you're the one with the-"

"Yes, we both know about my kinks, you teased me about it enough which is very hypocritical of you."

Grim is just loving the way you fluster and fumble for words right now.

"Oh, so you don't have a thing for inhumanly huge cock?"

He challenges and uses both his hands to bring your naked thighs to your chest, exposing your pussy, leaking with his seed.

"So you don't like the way I stretch and fill this little human pussy?"

You can't help but whine at his dirty words and the position he's binding you into. His cock adjusting inside of you, hitting a new spot.

"If you don't, I guess I could just pull out and-"

"Nonononono... Grim Cmon."

You frantically babble your disagreement, shaking your head. He chuckles again, very pleased with himself at turning the tables on you but thankfully for you he's not as evil as you are and his dick is still painfully hard.

"Alright Darlin, I'll take care of you."

He lifts himself from the chair, leaving a puddle of both of you when he stands. He comforts your whines when he pulls out to set you ass up on the table and just stands at the edge, one hand on his hip and the other leisurely stroking his cock.

You look back at him with confusion, expecting him to just fuck you over the table already.

"If you ask nicely."

He says looking real smug, you sigh in defeat and turn your body so that you're facing him. You disappear the rest of your clothes, leaving you stark naked on the large kitchen table you were just eating breakfast at. That realisation makes him pump his cock harder.

You press your knees as close to your chest as possible and bring your hands down to your puffy, leaking pussy. You spread your folds for him with your fingers and say, as sexily as you can manage.

"Please fuck me Grim."

Grim is so fucking floored, he's cursing himself for not thinking of doing this sooner. He sighs and pumps his cock harder, lining the leaking tip up to your pussy lips. He eases it inside and the new position makes for a new sensation for both of you as different spots are brushed and tension melts away. Once he's balls deep again he gently worms his arm underneath your back to lift you up with ease. You wrap your arms around his neck for support being mindful not to pull his hair. Suddenly you're face to face, looking into his eyes for the first time since you started.

You look into his dark eyes and they relax you, this is your best friend, you trust him. His eyes leave yours to stare at your parted lips. When he sees that familiar quirk on your lips he looks back to your eyes, catching the mischievous glint. You lean closer so that your noses are just brushing against eachother. You feel his breath hitch when your lips meet his. He spares no time getting into it and moves his lips against yours. You make out while he adjusts your body in his hold, one hand on your ass and the other on your waist.

He then, without warning, lifts you up and brings you down hard thrusting the whole length of his cock into you in one hearty thrust. You break from the sloppy kiss for a moment to groan out in absolute ecstasy, loving the way he takes the lead from you effortlessly. He brings down your whole body to meet his upwards thrusts. The way he's basically using your entire body like a fleshlight makes you embarrassingly horny.

It feels like it's been years since you were fucked like this, the way your body is reacting, so sensitive you're sure you could cum again any minute. This is exasperated greatly when he brings you closer to his chest with one arm locked around you so that he can worm his other hand in-between you two and rub at your engorged clit.

You grab at his wrist as he frantically works you to your climax, you basically scream when you finally reach that high. Clenching and shaking on his cock while he holds you up with his buff arms. You cling into him so tightly, getting drool on his shirt. You even squirt a little, getting your wetness all over his cock and the floor. Your intense climax once again has him reeling. The sight of you clinging onto him, squirting and losing yourself on his cock makes his balls clench painfully as his frantic thrusts turn faster and sloppier. He reaches his climax as he holds you close, groaning into your neck, pumping another thick load deep into you.

You both stay like that for a while, coming down from your respective highs. Your fingers slowly unclench from his shirt moving down to lazily caress his chest, feeling it move with his breaths as you rest your head on his shoulder.

He slowly manoeuvres your legs so he can sit back down on the chair, holding you to his chest. His hand strokes down your back as you both soak in the warm, tranquil after glow. His breathing evens out to a steady rhythm and your eyes flutter closed.

Knock knock knock

You both jolt awake and stare at each other wide eyed and then at the front door, which is very much visible from the kitchen. You both stay quiet and he holds you closer to hide your fully naked body if the rude intruder somehow manages to break the door down.

Knock knock knock

"Uhh Mr Grimmock Sir?"

The tension in Grim's body sags when he hears who's on the other side of the door. A hand goes to massage his impending migraine.

"BOY! What do you want?!"

You can imagine the way the poor fishing boy cringes at the anger in Grim's voice.

"Sorry Sir, I was wondering if you could give me some extra lessons on the boat?"

Grim growls in frustration, you chuckle in amusement and start kissing up his neck which settles him down a little.

"Tomorrow lad, it's Sunday."

"But I was-"

"Tomorrow."

The finality in his tone seems to get through to the young man as he mutters an "Alright Sir, see you then." Before walking off, his steps getting lighter and lighter.

"He doesn't want to work all week but suddenly he wants to work on Sunday?!"

Grim's irritation is clear as he gestures to the door incredulously. You can't help but laugh at the orcs misfortune. You settle your arms around his broad shoulders, one hand playing with his hair as his hand begins to stroke down your back again.

"Thank you for...helping out"

He says, quite genuinely.

"Anytime."

You throw him a thumbs up and he has to laugh and shake his head at the award winning nonchalance. When the amusement fades though he leans forward in the chair and brings his hands lower to cup your ass cheeks.

"Anytime?"

You can feel his soft cock gradually hardening inside your pussy and you look up at him in utter disbelief.

"Unbelievable."

You shake your head and chastise him but the smile that breaks on your face rats you put. He grins and lifts you up, walking out of the kitchen. His mouth marks up your neck and his stubble tickles, dull tusks dig into the sensitive skin.

"Just unbelievable."

You mutter to yourself again as your legs hug around his waist tighter and you feel his cum dripping out of your hole, leaving a trail all the way to his bedroom.

#monsterfucker #I'm thinking of making this mage character a recurring character where I basically write about her smutty monster adventures ���👀👀 #monster x human #monster fucker #monster boyfriend #monster lover #monster x reader #monster writing #orc x reader #orc x human #nsft writing #terato #teratophillia #Mage! Reader

[yesihaveaobsession]

The Bet

Drunk! Alastor x female reader

Summary: The patrons beg alastor to join them on their night out after what seemed like forever he finally agrees, he gets drunk and you lose a bet leaving you having to take care of him and be his personal body guard you do all of it in heels.

Warnings: mentions of drinking, alastor is very flirty when intoxicated and touchy.

CREDIT: TO ORIGINAL OWNER OF DRAWING

It was Charlie's idea; she thought it would be a good idea for Alastor to join them in a night of fun beyond the town. She begged and pleaded with the deer demon, and he finally agreed after she said that the activity was a bar. You were quite surprised. Alastor eventually said yes because, sure, he drank his brown liquor, but that wasn't often. But seeing the way his eyes lit up at the word 'bar'... you had thought he would only have a drink or two, say he pleased the Princess, then leave... Oh boy, you were wrong.

Charlie, you, Angel Dust, and the others sat at a table, music filling the air around you all, and each had your own drinks. Everyone was dressed up slightly more than usual, basically a different top. But since Alastor was ALWAYS dressed to impress, he wore his usual pinstripe suit. You wore a nice cocktail dress with heels. You were not dressed to impress; Angel Dust helped you pick out an outfit because you were struggling, and this is what you both agreed on.

Angel, with a mischievous smile, said, "How much you wanna bet that Smiles is gonna get black out drunk?"

"I don't think so," you argued. He always seemed collected and was barely found at the hotel's bar, so what made Angel Dust think that he was going to?

"Wanna bet?" Angel inquired. And you shook on it. You were wrong, VERY WRONG. When the night came to an end, Alastor was on a barstool, slumped over. You cursed at yourself and, frankly, the others for leaving you with the very much drunk deer demon.

"Jesus Al, I wasn't expecting you to handle liquor like a sailor," he looked at you with hooded eyes, his radio-filter seeming to be gone and just a slurry mess. Alastor chuckled softly. "Oh, but isn't it delightful to let loose every once in a while? Besides, I'm rather skilled at handling my liquor, don't you agree?" His smirk was strained slightly.

"You're something," you said, slapping money down on the counter and helping him off the barstool, his tall figure slumped onto you, causing you to let out a squeak as you tried to hold him up without ending up falling to the floor due to your choice in footwear. Once you got a good grip on him and he wrapped his long arm over your shoulder, the two of you slowly and steadily made your way out from the bar.

As the two of you made your way through the horrid streets of Hell, he looked over at you with a mischievous grin and leaned close to your ear, whispering, "You know, my dear, I must say you make quite the striking figure," Alastor remarked. You couldn't help but blush at his words, but you knew he was drunk and all the things he was talking about weren't true, at least some things.

You shook your head to rid of the thoughts and focused on the task at hand. You realized that he was much more vulnerable in his current state of mind, so you paid close attention to your surroundings. After what seemed like FOREVER, you two finally made it back to the hotel; we aren't going to talk about what a struggle that was.

Alastor's eyes remained heavy-lidded, his smile a close-lipped smile as he looked at you. You had him lean up against a wall, to be honest, to give you a break and let yourself recompose before you moved forward. He looked over at you, his grin widening, and he watched your every move, lifting his hand and beckoning softly. You sighed and walked over to him, and he hiccupped in between his breaths. You noticed that his finger trailed down your chest after being left on your cheek for a short while. You grabbed his claw, which was way too big for you, and pulled it away, your face turning red again.

"I've had quite a night, haven't I?" He said, and you only nodded, then wrapped his long arm around and over your shoulder and helped him off the wall; his weight landed on you again, and you let out a huff; he was not light. He let out a giggle, "You know... maybe we should..." You stopped him and said, "No, no, you need sleep. I know you barely sleep, but that's what you need."

Alastor then smiled playfully and moved his claw down to your waist, pulling you closer to him; this new position between you two was not comfy, but he didn't care; you just focused on not taking both of you out. "Alright, alright... I'll behave."

Still leaning heavily on you as you two stumbled into his room, you didn't think much about him not having a bed, so you had a couch in the room, so you plopped him down on it, fixed your dress, ran a hand through your hair, and let out a breath. He grinned up at you, slowly taking you in. You pulled one of his chairs from the other side of the room and dragged it in front of him; his red eyes continued to watch your every move; you soon sat down in front of him and patted your leg for a sign to have him put his shoed foot on your leg; after a few tries of telling him, he does, and his boots were hard to get off.

"Point your foot," you instructed, and he only let out a soft laugh and does point his foot, and you take it off.

"Dear..." He slurred. You didn't answer as you focused on your task. Alastor hiccupped, and that's what got your attention. "My dear, I must admit, tonight has been quite the delightful surprise. Perhaps I shall have to indulge in such outings more often."

"Please don't." You gave a polite smile and pushed off his red suit coat and placed it on a hanger and placed it in his closet, then draped a blanket over him.

"You better be asleep by the time I come back and check on you." You threatened; you couldn't believe this, but he looked adorable. "Yes, ma'am." You then left him to rest.

#alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor x you #the radio demon #hazbin alastor #alastor imagine #alastor x reader #i have an obsession

[satorusugurugurl]

JJK Men: Finding Your Toys

Characters: Geto Suguru, Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, FAB!Reader

Word Count: 4,952

Warnings: Sex toys! Dirty talk, squirting, smut, videotaping, degrading, holy heck, it’s spicy

A/N: This had me feeling things; I loved writing this. Each one of these hit differently, in the best ways. 😏

MDNI!!!

Geto Suguru:

“Suguru!” You called out from the kitchen, standing on a stepstool dusting the tops of your cabinets. “Can you do me a favor, please?”

Popping his head into the kitchen, Suguru stared at the curve of your ass peeking out from your shorts. “Anything for you.” He watched you stand higher, ass bouncing just a bit.

“Could you grab me the spring decorations? I put them on the bed.”

“On it.”

Ah, spring cleaning. A single day of the year, you deep cleaned your shared apartment. You were donating clothes and books, pretty much decluttering. Then you cleaned everything: floorboards, vents, every crevice. You always felt better after it was done. Plus, with Suguru helping you, you did it in half the time. All that was left was to put up the windchime and new throw pillows.

Then you both could relax.

Suguru was looking forward to a long shower and takeout food. Maybe if you weren’t too tired, he could have you for dessert. Before anything like that remotely happened, he needed to finish the task at hand. The bag was right where you told him it would be. Yanking it off, Suguru turned only to hear something hit the floor.

“Shit.” He cursed, watching your water bottle roll under the bed. Bending down, Suguru reached for the runaway water, only to feel the corner of an extended storage bin. With a tug, Suguru pulled the mysterious box out, his eyes widening as he stared at the transparent container.

Sex toys galore were inside. Glass dildos, clits suckers, vibrators, regular dildos. The sight nearly rocked Suguru's back as he opened the lid, glancing at the cleaned and organized toys. His cock throbbed painfully as he picked it up, putting it on the bed.

So this was what you got off with when he was on a mission. He hummed, picking up a vibrator and turning it over before grabbing a glass toy. It was long and had a large orb on the end. A g-spot toy. Did you use these to make yourself squirt? Have you squirted without him?

The first time Suguru made you squirt was when you both first started fooling around. His mouth was on your clit, fingers hammering against that spot until you screamed, soaking the sheets and his face. You freaked out at first, profusely apologizing. But your words were silent as Geto went feral, wanting to see you squirt again.

He didn't stop until you were nearly fucked out of your mind. All you could say was: “D-Didn't know I could squirt!”

“Suguru!” Your voice called out from the kitchen. “Did you find the bag?”

“Oooh, I found something alright.”

His tone had you turning your head towards his voice. “Oh? Was it the fairy lights? I thought I forgot to grab that bag at the store.” Your boyfriend hummed.

“I mean, a few of these light up.”

Okay, the man was definitely up to something. You finished up what you were doing before treading down the hall. As you turned the corner into the room, you froze like a deer in the headlights. Your toy bin was out, and Suguru was eagerly digging through it, a smug smile on his face.

“Ah!!” Bolting across the floor, you snatched the toys away, throwing them back inside before reaching for the lid.

Suguru chuckled, grabbing the lid from you and tossing it. “Oh no, you don't! We're not putting this away.” With your plan foiled, you held your arms out to block his view.

“No! It's embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?” Looking at your boyfriend, your cheeks flushed as he pulled his sweats down an inch. He's showing you the bulge in his boxers. “It's fucking hot.”

The humiliation slowly began to fade, a fire replacing it. “Really?”

Suguru nodded while digging in the bin. “Yeah, I like seeing the stuff you get off with.” He pulled out your g-spot dildos and vibrator. “Trying to make yourself squirt?” The knowing smirk on his face left you a blushing mess as you glanced away, nodding in response. “Did you do it?” This time, you shook your head.

“I don't think I'm doing it right.”

You felt Suguru behind you before you heard him. “Oh? Maybe you should show me~?”

One heavy make-out session later, you sighed softly as you slowly thrust the glass toy in and out of your dripping pussy. Suguru was on his stomach between your legs, watching you like a hawk. The glass toy rubbed against the sweet spot inside of you perfectly. The sensation was almost too overwhelming.

“C-Can’t.” Your legs clenched together in an attempt to ease the throbbing.

“Yes, you can.” Hands grabbed your thighs, forcing them open. “Stop closing your legs; I can't see.”

With an almost pained whine, you kept thrusting the toy in and out of your cunt. It was tight, so tight, your walls were hugging the toy, making it difficult for you to thrust it in and out. You were getting so fed up with this. Glaring down between your legs, you chewed on your bottom lip. Every time you tried to make yourself squirt, this happened. You'd get tired and annoyed before tossing the toy to the side with an irritated growl.

Suguru was focusing less on your dripping sex and more on your face. You were frustrated, focusing too much on the task at hand. You were never going to cum like that. So he gently wrapped his hand around yours, helping you with the pacing of the thrusts. The warmth of his hand and the subtle change of pace had you tilting your head back.

“You need to relax,” Suguru whispered, pressing hot kisses against your thigh. “You’re too tense. Stop focusing so much on the mechanics of it and more on the sensation.”

Letting out a trembling exhale, you relaxed, focusing more on how the toy slid in and out of you. Frustrated groans turned into low whimpering as Suguru sucked at your skin. Fuck, this felt so good, like when Suguru would finger you. The familiar coil tightened in your abdomen. The same tightening you usually felt when you would squirt.

“Ah, ah fuck.” You arched your back off the bed, pussy throbbing around the toy. “Fuuuuck, Suguru~!”

“Yeah, feel good?” He asked, still gripping the toy. “you’re getting the hang of it. It would help if you did a little of this—” he bit his lip in concentration, curving it up more. When he did that, you saw the entire universe. A scream escaped you as the toy rubbed perfectly over your g-spot. “there it is; you just gotta curve it a bit.”

“Holy fuck! Holy fuck!” Your legs began trembling as they began to shut.

Suguru sat up, growling as he shifted his body, preventing your legs from closing completely. “I thought I told you to fuckin’ stop doing that.” All you did was whine in response. “Ah~ too fucked out of your mind to even notice? God, you're so fuckin’ cute.” The hand he had on top of yours set a fast pace. “You're almost there, don't stop~ good girl~ good fuckin girl~!” the sweet praises had you speeding your hand up, making your boyfriend chuckle in surprise. “Oh, Y/N, you want me to praise you more~? You get off on that?” When you whimpered, he cooed. “My pretty princess is doing such a good job fucking her pussy. Are you going to cum? Gonna cum for me, princess?” Your boyfriend's freehand began rubbing your clit.

“Y-Yes! Fuck ohhh fuck!” Tears formed in your eyes as Suguru grinned, letting go of your hand. Watching as you sped up, not needing his direction anymore. “I-I’m gonna, gonna cum!”

“That's it, squirt for me. Make a mess, princess. Ooh!” Suguru scoffed, sitting back as you convulsed, squirting all over the bed and him. His hand rubbed your clit, extending your orgasm, making you squirt even more. “Fuck~! Look at you, making a mess, you nasty slut.”

Suguru made sure to watch you. The way your body slowly came down, hips against the mattress as your eyes fluttered shut. The subtle way your hips jerked, trying to evade his hand, which was now drawing gentle circles around your clit.

You were so damn beautiful.

Hungry, starved eyes bore into yours, his chest heaving as you pulled the toy out. “S-Sugu?” Your timid voice didn't seem to break his trance. “Baby? You okay?” Instead of responding, Suguru answered by grabbing your hips and flipping you so your face was in your pillow. “Mmmph!”

“You did okay,” his voice was dark, gravely, “I'd give you a five out of ten.” All you could do was listen, tensing up when you felt the tip of the glass toy prodding your entrance. “But I think you need a demonstration.” You couldn't even respond as the toy was shoved back inside of you deeper than you could have managed on your own. “Maybe, just maybe, if you cum hard enough, I’ll fuck you.”

Gojo Satoru:

The smell of freshly baked cookies wafted from the oven as you pulled the hot tray out. The viral cinnamon roll cookies smelt as good as they looked. While placing the cookies on the cooling rack, you heard footsteps hurrying down the hall. Seemed as though Satoru’s nose was as keen as ever.

“Am I the best girlfriend ever or what?” You tossed the oven mitts on the counter with a fist pump. “Not only do I bake, but I suck co—” Turning on your heel, you were about to wink at your boyfriend, only to find him towering over you.

His face was flushed, and his smile was as wide as could be as he smirked. “When the hell did you get this?” Gojo dangled your pink, blue-tooth bullet vibrator in front of your face.

“Satoru!!!” You reached for the toy, only to have him yank it out of reach. “Give it back!!” Satoru shook his head, holding the toy above his head, making it impossible for you to reach it now. “Toruuu!!!”

Satoru was as excited as a child at Christmas. He was practically vibrating (not from the toy) with horny energy. What a fucking find! All you asked was for him to grab the blanket from the closet! When he pulled it out, the box to his new friend fell.

“The box said I can control it with an app?! An app on my phone?! Oh my god, this is great!” He promptly held the box with his other hand, reading its functions. “Long distance play, waterproof, and it syncs to music and sound?!” His white brows furrowed in disbelief as his grin widened. “Y/N, why didn't you tell me?!”

“Because it sucks.”

All of the excitement on Gojo’s face vanished. “Sucks? What do you mean it sucks?!” His cerulean eyes darted from the toy in his hand before focusing on you. The pout he was sporting was almost impressive.

“It sucks, Satoru.” Pushing past him, you headed for the couch. “I tried syncing it to my playlist. It didn’t get me all hot and bothered. I even tried using the sound function. The app syncs to the sounds of porn videos, or any sound in general, but they just.” You shrugged a shoulder, plopping down on the couch. “They were so phony that the vibrations were so weak. I hated it so much that I didn’t see the point in telling you about it.”

Something about what you had said had Gojo blinking in silence. “You synced it up to some random porn video online?”

“Yes, Toru, and like I just told you, it sucked.”

“Right, but you watched two rando’s do it?” Something in the tone of his voice triggered your sixth sense. The danger was approaching, and it was in the form of your very horny boyfriend.

“Y-Yeah?” What should have been a statement was more of a question as Satoru dangled the toy on his index finger with an almost sadistic smirk. “What are you getting at with this?”

”Ah, you see, dear Y/N, my sweet perverted girlfriend.”

”Hey!”

Gojo crouched, twirling the vibrator around his finger like his house keys. “The problem isn’t the toy.” His pink tongue darted out, wetting his bottom lip. “It’s the content you’re viewing. You need something more—personal.”

”Ah! Ah! Fuuuck! Fuck!”

The toy deep inside of you buzzed at an intense speed. “Holy shit!” You cried out, your hand squeezed Satoru’s cock tight.

“Take my fucking cock.” Satoru’s voice from your television was sultry while the Satoru beside you wheezed out a laugh.

“Fuck, easy baby, you’ll break my dick.” Peeling your eyes away from the television screen, you tilted your head back against the couch, your Y/E/C eyes focusing on Satoru’s throbbing cock. “See, I told you it was the content and not the toy.”

He was right about that. When he suggested you put on the porno’s the two of you made together, you didn’t have high hopes. But holy fuck were you wrong. Your moans, Satoru’s dirty words, god it god it got you going, along the vibrator was buzzing like mad inside of you. Firmly pressing against your g-spot, teasing it as you watched Gojo fuck you into the mattress.

Satoru decided to join you for ‘research,’ wanting to see for himself that the toy sucked, as you said it did. Little did he know that you were going to start stroking him as you both watched yourselves on the screen. He rocked his head back as your thumb rubbed gently circled over his slit.

“Y/N fuck, playing with my pre like that.” his hand slid over, rubbing circles over your clit that had you jolting. “You're so pretty when you're feeling good. Such a good girl~”

His voice next to you was a sharp contrast to the Gojo on the television. He had the camera turned to his face. He was sweaty, biting his lip as he slapped your ass hard in the video. “You're such a nasty girl~! God fuck, grinding up against me on the dance floor, telling me you were soaking wet in the car.” Another sharp slap had both of you in the video and on the couch whining. “My dirty fucking slut, couldn't wait to get dicked down, could ya’?” The vibrator buzzed louder, your toes curling as you watched the screen. Slapping skin, whines, and guttural moans had your vibrator buzzing like a beehive.

“Hey, look at me~” Turning to look at Satoru was so hard from how hard you were jerking. “You're so beautiful~ do you like your toy now? You love it?” Please say you do, please, please, please. Satoru begged in his mind as you jerked his cock harder. If you liked it, it would make phone sex a million times better.

“Toru, Toru, yes, feels good~ love it~!” Fuck you were close. Your moans were beginning to meld in with your moans from the video. Louder, desperate, and ducking porn worthy. “Toru wanna cum, wanna cum with y-you!” Satoru gritted his teeth, eyes darting to his cock, that you were jerking off like a crazed woman.

“Yeah, ah, pretty girl, I’m close~ cum with me, okay? Be a good girl and cum~” The Satoru on the television snarled as he came, while your

Satoru whimpered, thrusting into your clenched hand until ropes of hot sticky cum painted your hard and his clenching ab’s. “Cumming, of fuck yes, I’m cummin’!” He cried out in time with his television persona.

It was the combination of the vibrations, Satoru’s fast circles over your clit, and watching yourselves cum that had you gushing around your new favorite toy. You screamed, eyes rolling back into your head. You came all over the couch. Fuck when was the last time you came that hard? It was probably when you and Satoru made the video you were viewing.

“So,” Satoru asked between pants, “does the t-toy still suck?”

You didn't answer his question. You instead grabbed your phone with shaking hands, typing on the screen. Satoru was about to ask what you were doing when a little chime went off. You tossed your phone to the side before gently pulling the toy out of you.

“Aw, done already?” Satoru’s cocky voice cut off as you straddled his hips. “Y-Y/N?” You cupped his face, turning it to the side, allowing you to kiss down his neck. “Fuuuck baby.”

“Mm,” Kiss after kiss trailed down his neck, “no, I love it~ I love it so much I just bought you the matching fleshlight.”

Satoru’s large hands gripped your hips, massaging them. “Oh really?” He gasped out as you sucked and bit the crook of his neck, marking his ivory skin. “A-Are you gonna make me watch the same video when it gets here?”

“Oooh, no.” Satoru watched as you grabbed his phone, propping it against the lamp beside him. “We're making a new video,” Satoru whines louder, wincing as you bite him harder. “Oooh, good boy~ Toru~ be extra loud for us~ that way, the vibrations are super strong.”

Nanami Kento:

The second the elevator door opened, Nanmi bolted out, running towards your shared apartment. He was nearly breathless from all of the running he had done in an attempt to get home as fast as he possibly could. Fuck, if only he could teleport like Gojo, maybe his heart wouldn’t be pounding inside of his ears in fear and panic.

He had been meeting with Yaga at the school when his phone went off, alerting him of your text. You were constantly sending messages throughout the day. Asking how he was doing, what he would like for dinner, or if he needed anything while you were out shopping. He did not feel like he deserved to have someone like you in his life.

His blood ran cold when he read the screen, his heart dropping into the pit of his stomach.

Y/N: I need your help; please come home ASAP!

The second those words processed through his mind, he was moving. Telling Yaga there was an emergency and he needed to hurry home. Every single terrible thought rushed through his mind at once. Was there a cursed spirit chasing you? Did one of the students get hurt? Were you hurt? He needed answers to the questions that were on a constant loop in his mind.

“Y/N!?” Nanami yelled out as he entered the apartment, slamming the door behind him. “Y/N?!” No traces of cursed energy, a sign of intrusion, or blood was in sight.

”I-I’m in the bedroom, Kento.” Immediately, Nanami knew something was off with your voice. It was far too timid.

When he walked into the room, he expected to find something terrible awaiting him. Much to his relief, you were laying in bed, a blanket covering your lower body propped up against your pillows. That’s how he had left you this morning and countless other times. Either you received some bad news from your family, or there was something his observant eyes were missing.

”What happened? Are you okay? What’s the emergency?”

Your face twisted from unreadable to one to a pained one as you shifted slightly. Anyone else would have missed it, but Nanami knew everything about you. He moved so fast you gasped as he crawled on the bed, looking you over for injuries.

“What's going on?” the stern tone of his voice made this ten times more embarrassing.

You brought your hands to your face, rubbing them gently as you tried to find your words. “I-I uhm—” Peeking through your fingers, you found Nanami staring at you with that serious look. “It, uhm, it's stuck.” Could this day get any worse? God fuck, this was mortifying.

“Stuck? What's stuck, Y/N?”

“M-My toy.”

“Toy?”

Not wanting to get into the details of your activities, you sighed, slowly pulling the blanket off. Laying on the bed beside you was a bottle of lube, and as you spread your legs, Nanami hissed at the sight. A toy, one he had never seen before, was lodged inside of you. It was thick; it made your poor pussy throbbed and twitched around it. Your wet slick glistened around it.

Nanami sighed, looking away from you, trying to keep some composure. Fuck you looked so hot, but a twinge of insecurity hit him in the chest. Nanami loved using your toys on you. He didn’t see them as competition; they were more like allies. He’d do anything, use anything to make you feel good. You both were very good at communicating your needs and wants with each other. If you were horny, all you needed to do was ask him.

Even if you wanted to masturbate, he had no issue with that at all! He encouraged it. Nanami Kento was not one of those men who saw you pleasuring yourself as a hit to his ego. He bought you a lot of the toys you shared. Kento wanted you to be satisfied and happy. That’s all his heart desired.

But something about this stung. It wasn’t because he was hurt that you didn't ask for help. You were not required to tell him if you were horny or needed help. Nor was it the fact that you were getting off on your own. What it was was the fact you were in pain. You had hurt yourself. That’s what stung me the most.

“Kento?” The stoic look on his face said everything without the use of words. “Baby, look, I just, I—!”

Kento said nothing as he stood up, walking to the dresser. He shrugged out of his suit jacket; his suspenders stretched as he took his watch off before rolling the sleeves of his blue dress shirt up to his elbows. Nanami, not saying anything was more stressful than him yelling at you. The room was too tense; it was thick and suffocating as Nanami turned around, getting on the bed.

His hands slowly slid up your thighs, spreading them apart. “Let’s get this out of you.” He nearly whispered before glancing into your Y/E/C eyes. “Ready?” You nodded, giving him the approval to proceed. His hands gently grabbed the base of the toy, tugging it.

“O-Ow.” You winced, watching him closely.

Nanami clenched his jaw at your pained whine. “Did you not use enough lube?” Gently, he twisted the toy before pushing it back into you.

“Ah~!” A loud moan escaped you, hands covering your eyes. “N-No, I d-don’t fuck, ah fuck, c-could you maybe not push it back in?”

A blonde eyebrow cocked at your request. “Do you want this stuck inside forever?”

“No. I’m sorry; I’ll shut up. Fuck this is embarrassing.”

“Mm.” Nanami sat up on his knees, looking over you. “Keep your legs open.” You pouted, doing as he said, while he twisted the toy inside of you, watching your reactions closely. You withered under him, pleasure starting to replace the pain. “You should have known better, or you could have warmed yourself up a little more.” He chastised, twisting and pulling at the snug toy again.

Your hands gripped the sheets, fisting the fabric. “N-Nanami, please don’t scold me.” You whimpered, cheeks flushing under his gaze. “J-Just ah, fuck, take it out.” From the mixture of embarrassment and lust, your voice had a tone; one Nanami didn’t care for.

He clenched his jaw tight. “It’s not coming out because you pushed it too far in! So now I have to work it out!”

You whined louder; this was not the way you thought this would play out. You bought this toy for both of you. “Oh my god! Just fuckin yank it out! This is so fucking embarrassing! I wanna die right now.” You laid your elbow over your eye, hiding your teary gaze from him.

“I’m your boyfriend. Why is this embarrassing?!” It wasn’t often that Nanami snapped at you, but your attitude was getting under his skin.

“Because!! I ruined the surprise!!” You removed your arm, showing him your teary gaze. Nanami’s eyes went wide. “T-This is the custom toy we made. It was delivered this morning, and I freaked seeing how big it was. I wanted to see if it would fit because I didn’t want to ruin tonight. But I ended up ruining it anyway.”

Honey-brown eyes darted towards the toy. Kenton wasn’t able to tell from the base. But upon further inspection, he recognized the custom marble coloring of blue and yellow the two of you picked out when you designed it. The one that he had all added ridges and bumps, especially for your pleasure. You were doing a test drive for him. All for him.

“Y/N, love,” he smiled softly, “you didn’t need to do this. You wouldn’t have messed anything up. We could have taken it slow. Just because it got here didn’t mean I would want to use it. I would've helped ease you into it. Besides, you didn’t ruin anything.”

You were wiping at blubbering tears, only managing to smile and nod in agreement. It was so relieving to know you didn’t ruin the experience. Things would be perfect if this toy weren’t stuck inside of your pussy.

Nanami leaned down, pressing his lips against yours, kissing you deeply. “Mm Y/N~” Feeling his lips against you had you moaning as you kissed him back. Nanami pulled back, his cock throbbing in his pants. “Alright, let’s get this toy out of you. But I need you to put in some effort.” You hummed, nodding eagerly.

“Okay, how can I help?”

“Be good,” Nanami commanded before fucking the toy into you.

You threw your head back, turning it from side to side as the custom ridges and bumps hit your g-spot perfectly, just how Nanami had designed it. Your toes curled, thighs shaking as you gasped out cries of pleasure. Nanami smirked, listening to the squelching sounds of your pussy.

“Fuck, you like that? Your pretty cunt sounds like she loves it~.”

“Ah, fuck, yes!! Nnngh!” You gripped your pillow, staring at him through your lashes. “B-But I want you more~! Please, I want to feel you.”

“Yeah, you do?” His voice was full of faux curiosity. “But Y/N, you were bad.” His eyes were dark as he twisted the toy he fucked in in and out of you. “You got yourself into a situation, didn’t you? One that you had to call me to come fix.”

Your eyes were wide, pupils dilated, fixed on him. Fucking hell, he looked so fucking hot. Eyes dark, eyes focused on the toy he customized for you. You needed him inside of you. You needed him to be the one rearranging your guts. Slowly, you slid your foot over, rubbing your foot over the hard bulge straining in his dress pants. The contact had him hunching over, jaw-dropping as he groaned.

“Please, Ken~ I need you. I need you so bad.”

He was breathing heavily, glaring down at you. “Fine.” He yanked the toy out, chuckling at the gasp you let out as the giant toy popped out of your cunt. “Do you need me?” His hands quickly moved, undoing his belt before tugging them down as he slotted between your thighs.

“Yes Kento, I need yo—oooh!!!” Nanami’s cock slammed into you before you finished your plea.

“You feel so fucking good.” Kento tilted his head back, hips slamming into you at a pace that had you seeing stars. The veins in his neck popped out as he gritted his teeth. “Holy fuck, your cunt is so wet! You were feeling it, weren't you?”

You weren’t going to last. You were already so close. Nanami wasn’t doing any better himself. His cock throbbed deep inside of you as he set a brutal pace. Slamming in and out, fucking you as deep as he could. The tip of his cock slammed against your cervix. It was a painful pleasure that had your mouth dropping in an ‘O’ shape. God, you might die. This was too good.

Nanami grabbed your face, jerking your head to look at him. “You look at me when you cum, you fucking hear me?” His mouth was on yours, tongue sliding against yours, capturing every whine and moan you made as his cock slammed into every sweet spot.

As much as you wanted to close your eyes, you obeyed Nanami’s instructions. Y/E/C on his as you screamed into his mouth. You came, squirting, whining, and crying. Nanami pulled back, face flushed as he growled like a fucking incubus. Feeding off of you, your orgasm, every part of you. Feeling you cum, seeing that fucked out expression plastered across your flushed face. It had Nanami cumming so hard. His balls clenched as he emptied his seed inside of you, painting your walls.

“Fuuuck, Y/N, fuuuck.” His hips slowed, his hands gently massaging your hips as he laid down with you. His arms wrapped around you, spooning you close. “I love you, god, you’re perfect.”

Breathing heavily, you giggled, relaxing in his arms. “I-I love you too.” You lazily smiled as you ran your fingers over his forearms, tracing shapes. “Thanks for saving me, Kento.”

His chest vibrated with a rich chuckle, lips grazing your neck. “Anything for you my love.” His lips pressed against your cheek, and you knew he meant every word.

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[toxicanonymity]

The Spread

PAIR: Thomas Hewitt x f!Reader

WORD COUNT: 3.5k | MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: You hide and don't get slaughtered. Tommy secretly keeps you. He's kinda sweet if you're good.

WARNINGS: I8+ Canon-typical violence (implied) & setting, captivity, dark caretaking, manhandling, sleeper hold, oral f receiving, noncon unsafe piv, finger gagging, dark fluff, tommy has a praise kink, stockholm syndrome vibes. NO human skin mask: leather partial mask shown in photo. He is feral and naive due to his family. No use of Y/N. Divider by gasolinerainbowpuddles.

SIZE KINK - Reader is much smaller than Leatherface, can be carried and maneuvered. He is 6’5”, thicc and STRONG.

You barely escaped the so-called law man, and your friends weren’t so lucky. They got chased right into the lair of a chainsaw-wielding giant.

“C’mon, Tommy,” the Sheriff encouraged the giant, “Just like the slaughterhouse.”

Heavy chains thrashed, and one of your friends groaned.

“Attaboy,” the Sheriff praised.

While they were distracted, you ducked into a nearby woodshed. You didn't dare go far – you had encountered too many hazards on the property to trust your footing, and couldn't risk calling attention. Instead, you sat there in the shed, paralyzed, listening to your friends get butchered. One by one, their squeals turned animalistic until a wet thwack or rev of a motor cut them off.

Finally, there were no more screams.

Huddled in a corner of the woodshed, you tried to keep your wits about you. The shed was about the size of a small dorm room. There were stacks of wood all around–some freshly cut, some rotted–and hay covered the floor.

You were in a tank top and Daisy dukes with cowboy boots that made you feel like an idiot. You had sap on your knees from crawling over the wood. Taking deep breaths did nothing but fill your nose with cedar - it was only a matter of time before you’d meet your fate. You picked splinters out of your hands as you replayed the chase in your mind. You began to feel sure “Tommy” had seen you run into the shed. If that was the case, you didn't know why he let you go. You could only guess he already had his hands full.

“Think we got’em all, son?” The Sheriff asked.

Tommy grunted.

“That’s my boy,” the Sheriff concluded.

-

Dusk was approaching. Not long after the Sheriff left, heavy footsteps crunched louder and louder toward the woodshed. Your heart pounded harder with each step. The rickety door busted open with a plume of dust. Tommy’s silhouette consumed almost all the daylight that remained.

The door frame would’ve been tall enough for most men, but Tommy had to duck on his way in. He carried an ax. Each step he took shook the entire structure. His breathing was loud, his mouth hanging open below the leather that covered his nose. The partial mask covered his chin too, but not his mouth. It was fastened with two straps behind his head nestled in thick, chestnut hair that came down around his shoulders.

He approached you cautiously and paused when he was an arm’s length away. You whimpered, knees held to your chest. He sniffed around like an animal. Then he brushed a stray section of hair out of his eyes, and you saw a glint of uncertainty in his gaze. You tried to compose yourself, wondering if your fear could trigger him.

He knelt down to get a better look at you. He reached for you, and you jumped. He grumbled and held up a massive finger less than an inch from your mouth, telling you to be quiet.

Something possessed you to reach for his hand. He let you move it.

You put his palm on your cheek and watched his chest heave in confusion.

He tilted his head and stayed crouched there for a moment, staring at you with his brown eyes softening above the leather.

“Attaboy,” you whispered, repurposing the Sheriff’s words.

Tommy huffed, then abruptly stood. He left the shed, ax slung over his shoulder. He ducked again on his way out.

He didn't return for a while. You finally dared to open the door just enough to look out, but not for long, startled by an older woman’s voice calling, “Tommy!!! Time for supper.” You shrunk back into your corner, afraid you had been spotted.

You sat there frozen, afraid to run.

-

Sometime later, you heard a squeaky wheel approach the shed. The door opened more quietly than it had the first time. The hulking silhouette was backlit by a buzzing floodlight in the yard. The man seemed to be more careful and quiet this time. He had brought a few blankets. One of them was tattered, pale yellow bordering what used to be white, and it had Care Bears on it. He put the blanket over your body, coming all the way up to your neck, and patted your head. Then he took a bundle of newspaper out from under his arm and handed it to you like an offering. It smelled like barbecue.

As he turned to leave, you whispered, “Tommy.”

He dropped his head and looked back.

“Thank you,” you said.

Looking at the wall, Tommy offered a short nod before leaving. Then he locked the door from the outside.

After he left, you opened the newspaper. It was too dark to see, but the contents felt like a charred bone with bits of flesh hanging to it. You weren't hungry anyway.

You wrapped yourself tight in the blanket, and to your discomfort, your heart fluttered at the man’s softness with you. You replayed the day’s harrowing events in your mind’s eye and saw him differently than you had at first. Maybe he was nothing but an attack dog. You began to doubt he would've hurt your friends at all if not for the older, more wicked man in uniform.

Maybe Tommy was as much of a prisoner as you were. You wondered if he could talk. You felt sure he could listen.

After sunrise, you awoke to some commotion and heard a vehicle drive away. After a period of silence, you tried to open the door to the shed, but it was securely locked.

Soon, Tommy came back and unlocked it. He moved swiftly toward you with purpose in each heavy step, crouching slightly. The mass of his body strained his shirt. You'd never seen forearms like his. He could surely snap you like a twig, but something told you he wouldn't. Still, your heart raced when he lunged toward you. He reached over a wood pile and used both massive hands to force you onto your feet. He wrapped you in the blanket, then put you over his shoulder like a potato sack.

He put you into his wheelbarrow, then nestled some firewood around you. He looked around furtively as he did it. Then he covered you with another blanket and wheeled you across the bumpy ground, onto a smoother surface. He rolled a garage door down behind you and left you covered in the wheelbarrow as he rummaged around the garage.

You peeked out from the blanket and saw him placing shackles on a table. Your heart raced. You glanced behind you. The garage door was still lifted by a small margin. Maybe big enough to fit through.

You watched in terror as he brought out a mallet. Finally, your body unfroze.

You lowered yourself out of the wheelbarrow as carefully and quietly as you could and crawled toward the narrow opening. As you began to wriggle under it, your ass hit the door, making a noise far too loud to go unnoticed.

Within a split second, his massive hands were firm around your ankles, pulling you toward him, dragging you roughly across the concrete.

He manhandled you like a doll. He forced you onto your back and shook you, then wrapped a massive hand around your neck. Your life flashed before your eyes, and you kicked him. He grunted and grabbed you roughly by the shirt, then sat back on his knees. He held you with your back against his enormous thigh. Your Daisy dukes did nothing to protect your ass from the cold concrete. You thrashed, and he put the crook of his elbow around your neck, then everything faded.

When you woke up, you were chained to the table, with cold, metal shackles on your wrists and one ankle. You were bottomless, and the air was cool between your legs. Your feet were bare. All you had left was your tank top, which you wore without a bra.

You didn't dare move. A foul dust in the air made you sneeze, then Tommy came into view. He was wearing a butcher’s apron, and the sleeves of his dingy, button-up shirt were rolled up to expose those big, hairy forearms. He held the mallet. His eyes were industrious.

“Please don't hurt me,” you begged.

He laid a heavy hand on your shin, and you flinched. He gently placed your free ankle in a shackle, then nailed it shut.

“Please,” you begged.

He laid a hand on your thigh and looked you in the eyes.

“What are you going to do to me?” You asked.

He huffed and put the mallet away.

You were relieved until he returned with a meat cleaver. You tensed and squirmed. He laid a hand on your stomach and his searing eyes told you to stay still. He slid the cleaver under your tank top, and you held your breath and looked at the ceiling. Your nipples hardened at the feeling of his knuckles between your breasts.

He violently sliced upward through the fabric, turning your wifebeater into a vest which burst open, freeing your breasts. He inhaled sharply at the sight and discarded the meat cleaver with a metallic clatter on a nearby shelf.

“Please,” you begged again, then he stuck his fingers in your mouth and peered in. His thick digits tasted like charcoal and salt. Three fingers were enough to stuff the orifice completely. When you stopped whining, he abandoned your mouth.

He cupped a breast, then cupped both of them. He hummed a curious “mm,” Then dragged his thumb down your sternum before stepping away to survey your body.

You felt like a cadaver sliced open for examination. As he slowly stalked around the table, it dawned on you that's what he was doing. He was studying you.

He stopped at a long side of the table – your left side. He brought his face–his leather mask–to your skin, just below your ribs. His hair fell onto your body, and the light brush of it tickled. He paused to loosen the strap at the back of his head. Then he dipped his face to your abdomen again. He turned his head and dragged his cheek, and the leather, over your bare stomach, to your breast. You could hear him desperately sniffing and wondered why he didn't take that thing off.

Lips, hair, and smooth leather dragged across your skin as he wiped his face along your chest. Then his face made its way into your armpit, where a dart of his tongue made you flinch and shiver. His tongue darted out again. He sucked the delicate skin slightly into his mouth before releasing it with a soft grunt.

He paused and pulled away. He pivoted to stand behind your head, then brought his hands to your breasts. Helowered his mouth to your neck and licked you. His hair fell on your nose and smelled like smoke and metal.

He seemed to savor the taste of your skin. He licked longer, harder, the strong slippery muscle of his tongue nudging your jugular. You felt a rush of arousal and shame. He tasted the other side of your neck and hummed in satisfaction. The throbbing between your legs made you wince.

He dragged his tongue down over your chest to lap at your breast. He flattened his tongue to lick your nipple, then began to suckle at it. One thing was clear - this was not for your enjoyment. He was entirely absorbed in what he was doing. He didn't even glance at your face. Whether it was for his pleasure or curiosity, you couldn't be sure. He moaned into your nipple and you knew you must have been gushing onto the table.

After a few seconds, he pulled away from your tit and began to sniff the air. He stalked around the table some more and paused at your shackled feet, staring up between your spread legs. He found the source. His hands dwarfed your thighs as he pushed them further apart. Then he dabbed a thick finger, only grazing your folds as he picked up just a taste of you from the table and brought it to his mouth.

“Mm,” he hummed quietly, staring between your legs. He licked his finger again and his eyes searched the air curiously. Then he grabbed your upper thighs and anchored his thumbs on your outer lips, spreading you open. His heavy gut rested on the table between your feet as he leaned forward. As he lowered his mouth to your cunt, you twitched and felt another rush of shame.

His breath was hot on your cunt, then he dipped his tongue, and you tensed.

He lapped at your entrance, and the physical pleasure made you exhale and relax, while your fear remained. He licked and sucked, and your moan echoed before you could try to cut it short. Your chest was hot with embarrassment, but if he heard the sound, he ignored it.

He fed on your juices like a starved animal. He sucked and slurped, and dug his lips and tongue in, searching for more. The squelching and gurgling sounds were obscene between your legs. He closed his eyes and dug his fingers into your hips as he feasted.

The leather mask nudged your clit and made your hips lift into his mouth. He brought a hand to your lower belly to hold you still. Then his tongue plunged into you. You whispered, “good boy,” and your whole body felt weak with shame.

He paused and glanced up, then repeated the action. It was true, some part of you welcomed this, as afraid as you were. In any case, the heat and pressure building in your gut would have to release at some point.

He fucked you with his tongue, nudging your clit with the smooth leather, and you had to remind yourself to breathe. You'd never been eaten so voraciously. He moaned into your cunt and the tension was too much to hold. You whimpered as you began to pulse and twitch. His tongue paused as you clenched around it. Then he continued. Your back arched as he sucked it all out of you, swallowing every drop he could find. As your climax waned, you took slow, deep breaths.

Finally, he slowed down. He looked flustered for a moment, then his hand disappeared from your thigh. He pulled his face away, and the leather mask was soaked and shiny. Then he took his apron off. When he stood to put the apron aside, the protrusion in his pants made your breath hitch and your asshole flutter.

Your cunt spasmed once around nothing, and your insides churned as though making room for a massive guest.

You couldn't peel your eyes away. He adjusted himself, then palmed the bulge. His shirt had come untucked. The bottom button wasn't fastened, and his midsection strained the other buttons as his whole torso heaved. He eyed the mess between your legs as he palmed himself.

He seemed to be considering the possibility of stuffing your cunt with whatever monstrosity hid in his pants. He could take anything he wanted, but he didn't look proud of it. This didn't feel like something he did every day.

You decided not to fight back. You told yourself it was for survival, but you also twitched at the thought of him wrecking you. You looked at his crotch, then down between your legs, still gushing at the sight of him barely contained by his pants. The way his whole body wanted to bust out of his clothes made you weak in the knees. He was so solid and strong. You looked again from his crotch to your own, as though your eyes were instructing where to put it in defiance of your better judgment.

He grumbled as he picked up a hammer and approached you, making your heart nearly stop.

He pried the nails out of the shackles, and you cursed yourself for the way your heart fell. Your disappointment was quickly replaced by relief. A man this size, with these capabilities – he could have done serious damage to your body.

“Thank you,” you whispered. You laid on the table patiently looking at the ceiling as he went down to your feet and unshackled your ankles.

Then he grabbed you by the thighs and yanked you toward the end of the table, making you yelp. Your naked crotch came to rest flush against the bulge in his pants, making you ache with arousal. Your thighs trembled in fear.

You looked down toward him and he forced your chin upward, making you look at the ceiling. You pinched your eyes shut. You were at war with your body’s desire. He might kill you. He might actually split you in two. The dying squeals of your friends echoed in your mind. But his hardness swelled against you, and oh, fuck.

His hips backed up and you twitched at the loss of his warm package against you.

With your eyes still pinched shut, you heard his clothes jostling, then he spread your lips apart while he notched his tip against you. It was too big. He held your thighs again and pulled you toward him with a forward thrust and a grunt.

Being impaled with his cock felt like being split open. The girth burned as it stretched you, and you whimpered as your body tried to accommodate him. He stayed inside, and he sighed. You'd never felt so stuffed. He leaned forward, and the contact with your clit provided some relief as your body spread itself more. But still, your heart raced at the prospect of him moving. You prayed he would be gentle.

When you didn't stop whimpering, he stuck his fat, smokey fingers in your mouth again. He placed his other hand on your chest to hold you still, with the crook of his thumb close to your throat. You gagged on his fingers and he removed them. He wiped your saliva onto your nipple before kneading your breast.

Thankfully, you were wet and getting wetter. He held you down and slammed into you. The fullness pushed your thoughts out of the way along with your guts. You kept your eyes shut as he speared into you again.

His breathing and grunting seemed to echo through the room with every snap of his hips. His unholy girth twitched against your walls. He grabbed onto your hips and brutally pounded you. He used you like a sleeve until his moans were drawn out and his breath became ragged. He pulled you back hard and leaned forward, the weight of him resting on your lower abdomen. Your cunt fluttered in anticipation of his climax, but he paused. Your hips lifted, seeking friction for your front.

He pulsed once, making your chest flutter with pleasure, but then he swiftly slid out. He left you twitching for more as he finished coming outside. His cum painted your folds and inner thigh, and he grumbled and turned around. You lowered your chin to look just in time for him to release onto the wheelbarrow and floor. Then he stood there with his broad back heaving as he looked around.

You closed your eyes again and opened them when you felt fabric on your inner thigh. He was wiping you off with the bottom of his shirt. His face and neck were blotched pink, and he had fixed his pants. He was looking at you, chest still heaving when his ears perked up at the distant sound of tires on gravel.

He quicky put your shorts back on and gathered you off the table, nestling you in the wheelbarrow once more. He swaddled you in the old blanket, now wet with his cum, and opened the garage before quickly wheeling you back to the shed.

He placed you in the corner where you had been, just in time for the truck to park. As he turned to leave the shed, you said “Tommy. Can you bring me some water?”

He hesitated then gave a short nod before locking the shed again behind him.

He came back later with a jar of water and a metal bucket. You were shivering in the corner when he came in. He set the bucket down next to you, then placed his hand on the crown of your head and gently moved his fingers as he looked around. Then he abruptly began to unbutton his shirt. He pulled you up from the corner to put the shirt on you. His chest was hairy and broad, and his entire torso was thick, just massive.

“Good Tommy,” you said as he finished putting the shirt on you.

He paused and left it unbuttoned. His eyes were big. He held you by the sides, looking you up and down in the oversized shirt and Daisy dukes. Then he put you back where you were and locked the shed behind him.

The shirt was filthy, cumstained, and reeked of sweat, but it didn’t smell as bad as it should've. It didn't make you sick like it should've. When he left, you wrapped it tight around yourself, then looked in the bucket. There were apples.

Thank you for reading and engaging! Love you guys 🖤 please consider commenting even if this is old. It helps to know what you liked.

If you want more, good news - I have more thots! Feel free to send yours, too.

#leatherface x reader #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #leatherface smut #thomas hewitt smut #slasher smut #slasher fucker #tommy hewitt #leatherface x you #thomas hewitt x you #slasher x you #slasher x reader #tw noncon #dark fic #toxicanonymity ☠️ #slasher fandom #tw rape #texas chainsaw massacre #leatherface

[cherubfae]

carrying you to bed || hazbin/helluva x reader

With Alastor, Lucifer, Charlie, Angel Dust, Husk, Loona, & Blitzø

tags: gn!reader, established relationship, fluff

Alastor

He lets out a deep sigh, staring down at you with slow blinks. "My love, surely that can't be comfortable for you" He has warned you time and time again not to spread yourself too thin with your tasks. Alastor appreciates how much of a good work ethic you have, but what is it worth if you don't have the strength to walk to your room? He picks you up as gently as he can, melding into shadow as he pops into your room. Carefully laying you down, Alastor will cover you up and with a gentle pat on your head before he takes his leave. Perhaps, next time he'll be tempted to rest beside you.

Lucifer

No wonder you hadn't answered him when he called your name. Here you were, fast asleep on his deep red chaise lounge using your folded arms as pillows. Lucifer picks you up bridal-style half-wishing you were awake so that you could see how strong he is! Another time, he thinks. Your rest is much more important than his ego (for now). "Sleep well, honey." He grins, wiggling beneath the sheets like an inch warm, his eyes sparkling with admiration. Placing a kiss to your head, Lucifer is quick to fall asleep.

Charlie

Honestly, she really does try her best not to squeal at the sight of you. You've been working insanely hard for the hotel-- it's no wonder you're so pooped out! She's careful with wiggling one arm beneath your back and hooking the other beneath your knees. She'll carry you to whichever room is closest: yours or hers. Maybe she'll be able to convince you to move into her suite soon. "Oh my gosh, aren't you just the cutest, honey?? I love you so much!"

Angel Dust

"Awww, sweets! Lookit ya! All tuckered out." He cooed in a hushed whisper, lightly booping your nose. His grin widens when it crinkles upwards. His middle set of arms pick you up, preferring to use his gloved ones to stroke back your hair softly. Leaning his cheek against your forehead, Angel carries you off to his room where an excited Fat Nuggets happily circles the bed in preparation for a lovely nap with his two favorite people.

Husk

Putting away the final glass beneath the bar's counter, his yellow eyes drift to your sleeping form at the end of the bar. You'd insisted on waiting for him to finish but all that work promoting the hotel on foot, searching for any sinners ready to be redeemed was a hard task. Husk fought back a smile. "You really do care about this stuff, dont'cha?" He asks despite knowing you won't answer. "Let's get ya to bed." Husk stretches his wings with a sigh before they fall slack. He lifts you into his arms and makes the trek up the stairs.

Blitzø

He'll bitch and groan about it, but he also won't let anyone else touch you when you're sleeping. Blitz will make some claims about how the person trying to touch you probably has cooties or a viral infection or something. Not happening. He's quick to scoop you up into his arms, eyes narrowed slightly, before scampering off to his room with you. "No, you don't get to fuckin' touch them with your gross unwashed hands, Moxxie-- yeah, that's right I saw you! We are living in post-Covid times, mister! Ack, no, leave 'em! I'll carry them just fine thank you!"

Loona

|| please don't repost, reuse, or edit my works in any way! I do not give permission. Tumblr is the only site where I post. All characters belong to their rightful owner and the story belongs to me © CHERUBFAE 2024 ||

She smirks when she sees you. You look so sweet and cute, curled up into a ball. But that position can't be good on your spine, nor sleeping on Blitz's sad depression sofa. Loona bends down to lift you into her arms, pushing open her bedroom with her elbow and closing it shut with her foot. A nap with you sounded perfect. "You sure do look cute when you're tired, babe." She nuzzles your cheek with her nose.

#hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel imagines #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #charlie morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #angel dust x reader #husk x reader #blitz x reader #loona x reader #cherubfae 2024

[harmonysanreads]

sunday with a singer! darling, one who had escaped from him almost seven years ago, and disappeared off the face of the galaxy. imagine his reaction when he gets word of a famous belobogian band on the radio soon after it’s connections to the IPC were restored, comprised of a woman named serval landau, and a *very* familiar young woman, with an even more familiar voice.

- (…could i be ✨ anon?)

Curtain Call

yandere!sunday x reader

cw(s) : yandere, written before 2.2

wc : 2.6k

You have the power of democracy by your side ✨ anon and I have no choice but to adhere to public demand :] Even though you mentioned a female!reader, the direction of the narrative didn't necessitate that specification, so the reader is gender-neutral! But they have been called ‘babygirl’ once.

“How can the bird that is born for joy

Sit in a cage and sing?”

— William Blake

You've avoided all shades of white and blue since the dawn of this day.

Serval regarded your pertinacity with a voiceless breadth of intrigue, before yielding with little to no resistance. A smidgen of guilt had briefly permeated your consciousness upon the vague shadow of a pout on her face, you recalled her enthusiasm passed through plans of matching outfits on your debutante from days now labeled as the near past. She picked herself up quickly though, her free-spirited ideals would not be compromised by some mere color choice.

It was difficult to not admire her. Lamentably, it is much easier to cradle the preachings of an unrestrained life than to actually act upon them — and by doing so, shouldering the frigid reality that came with such a life. As a child of frozen terrains although, frigidity must be Serval's playground, you eventually conclude. That is hardly the case for you, but you'd rather swallow whole chunks of ice than pin the blame on yourself alone for that apparent incapability.

You aren't at fault for your paranoia in embracing freedom, but you are resolved enough to try breaking away from its clutches. But just as tattoos sink deep beneath skin, that anxiety stubbornly clings to your psyche and the memories of the past nurture and allow it to fester. Which is why, you must avoid any shades of white and blue, at least until the dawn of tomorrow graces Belobog. Be it a superstition with no rational ground or scientific explanation, you decide to believe firmly in your gut.

The walls of the makeshift back-room muffle the chorus of the crowd outside, but it is enough to comfort you that your long held wish did come true. The single light bulb hanging beyond the door of the room serves as the sole source of luminescence, although it is barely helpful, the light bounces off from your back and reflects a scarcely tangible silhouette in the mirror of the dressing table. Glitters of dust floating around are illuminated by that light, abandoned furniture peek beneath their veils from your peripheral — they exclaim what this room's previous purpose had been.

Neither the modest setting nor the small trinkets spread across the dressing table come close to what you had a taste of ; glimmering surfaces, brands of beauty products worth a man's life savings and silks of no contender would mock this shack, if they could. But your heart soaks in solace whenever that irritatingly bright light flickers and mellowed cheers of the crowd permeate the room's thin walls, not because you lack taste in life, but because you recognize the futility of vanity.

“You did amazing there, babygirl!”

Your vision stutters at the impact of firm touch, you feel arms rest atop your decolletage, a shadow cloaks your reflection in the mirror. The cool touch of metal upon your left shoulder and a distinct streak of blue masquerading among blond locks of hair draw out a breath of relief from your lungs. But a faint twist engulfs your gut the very next second, you recall asking for a moment of quietude vividly.

“I don't think my performance was as great as you say, Serval. And whatever I achieved, it wouldn't have been possible without you guys.” your fingers twiddle with your sleeves, your eyes find interest in an abandoned nail polish.

You peek up in time to meet the rockstar's stare through the mirror, with some wrestling with the light, her disapproval shines through to your eyes.

“Nonsense, you were the star of today's show. Give yourself some credit, would ya?” your cheek soaks in the pinch before your brain can decode her words, you muffle a whine in protest.

“Okay, okay! I'm sorry.” your hand quickly soothes over the tempered skin when her fingers retreat, that's the extent of ‘retaliation’ you offer Serval, having accustomed yourself to her spontaneity in the interim of your stay under her care.

“I saw you look... pretty unnerved after the performance, so I came to check.” you scratch your cheek, eyes darting upwards to find her face shielded by your hair. You cannot pinpoint why, but for a second it seemed like she struggled to find footing with her phrasing of words. You've never heard her falter, at least in speech, but the waves of conversation swallow that momentary observation just as quickly.

Instead of being candid, you take a different turn, “You know, I wasn't lying about being grateful to you all. To perform on a stage without any rules was a long held dream of mine,” you feel gooseflesh bloom across your arms as tip-toeing touch descends to your sides, something within tempts you to curl in on yourself but you force your breath to finish. “If it hadn't been for your help, I would never succeed in fulfilling it.”

Serval hums in understanding, the timbres of it traverses from your skull and extends to your nerves. Her arms rest snuggly around your waist and you swallow dryly. Serval always wrapped her arms around your shoulders whenever she felt the need to and the fact that it made your head nearly spiral with questions didn't require to be stated. Only now do you reckon the slumbering atmosphere, without the jeer and cheer of the audience, you felt Belobog's cold biting into the tips of your fingers. You told everyone to not disturb you — your mind echoes without clarification.

“Is it because of that husband of yours?”

Your shoulders tense and for a litany of reasons, most obscure enough to be dismissed as misnomers produced by your instincts, none but one potent enough to be addressed. “Well yes… I told you about a man, but I don't remember specifying that it was a ‘husband’ responsible for my situation.”

Your words materialize as half confused and half laden with caution, you'd told Serval a few things about your predicament — nothing groundbreakingly detailed, just enough to earn a portion of her empathy. It kills you to follow tactics that enticed you to your doom, but what is life, if not a series of trial and error? It's best to apply the teachings of a manipulator than to continue being manipulated for eternity. But of course, you'll admit, such carefully taken steps still don't lessen the likelihood of meeting a dead-end to zero. How unfortunate.

It's Serval's turn to tense, but it's so quick you're left questioning whether it really happened. “Ah, but there was a ring on your right ring finger when you first came here! And the ‘man’ in your stories didn't seem to be different persons. So, I took a guess…”

An awkward chuckle leaves the rockstar's lips and you blink. She's right, you were still wearing your wedding ring when you came here ; an amateur mistake, you should've left it at some abstruse corner of the Dewlight Pavilion. You glance up at your reflections on the mirror, Serval was now mimicking your previous antics, a painted nail against her cheek albeit, the opposing light veiled her expression from recognition. One of her arms was still around your waist, loosely this time.

“I didn't say anything offending, did I?” the mechanic mutters tentatively. You take a deep breath and exhale, vacillating between the multitude of scenarios conjured by your lingering paranoia. But if it's Serval, you give it more thought, there was no tangible reason as to why she of all people would bring this up with malicious intent — or at least, none that you could come up with. She was likely merely concerned for your well-being, a big sister's instincts perhaps.

“Not at all,” the three words are uttered with more difficulty than needed but the effort is proved worth it when she relaxes and returns to embrace you with gusto.

This time you can feel her touch vividly across the bare skin of your midriff, a reminder of your present dress up automatically causes blood to rush to your face. The matching crop-top with Serval was hardly the most revealing thing someone had worn in this universe, but it was the boldest you'd been with your attire. You think you saw her gaze tilting at the sight but the only way to affirm it would make things further awkward. As you melt upon recalling that you'd sung your lungs out with this on in front of a crowd, the rockstar chimes in again.

“Ah right, I almost forgot why I actually came here. I have a gift for you!” you blink out of your stupor to hear shuffles, a bottle of hairspray is knocked to the ground due to her movements. The object clamors down and rolls a few feet away but Serval pays it no attention, you quirk a brow at her sudden briskness. “Close your eyes.” she lulls sweetly, you obey despite your state of disorientation.

You feel the faint brushes of her fingers first, then a noticeable weight around your neck, fastened a little too tightly. After she beckons you to open your eyes, you scrutinize the object through your reflection on the mirror and recognize it to be… a choker. It's heavier than what you recall chokers to be, its body is painted in baby blue and when you turn your head the light bounces off its surface to reveal golden outlinings. Three small wings curl around the white tassel hanging from the middle, you find the wings to be unnervingly soft when your fingers brush across them.

The choker looked expensive, despite its somewhat gaudy appearance and it didn't seem like something aligning with Serval's tastes. But most importantly, there's blue and white in it — the two colors you'd been stubbornly avoiding. Your mind spirals, you clearly remember telling Serval that you didn't want to see those two colors today — or, did you? Perhaps it was your mind weaving its own narratives in the flurry of adrenaline? A chill rears its grotesque head, a panic you can't quite push down despite your mind adapting to give her the benefit of the doubt, your breaths lapse unevenly.

“For being such a darling member of Mechanical Fever, a token of our friendship. I didn't know how else to thank you, so I got this instead.” Serval's voice yanks you from the edge of a panic attack, you force yourself to breathe deeply. You turn around when you notice the absence of her shadow, finding her retreating into the shadow of the half ajar door.

You remain seated on the juncture between light and shadow, returning to face the mirror after the rockstar settles on a stool. “I should be the one saying that and… you didn't have to give me this, but I appreciate the gesture nonetheless.” your thumb and index fingers twiddle with the pure white tassel.

Her words seem to make you forget about your earlier paranoia, nostalgia cascades down your soul as you recall the fond memories inherent to Belobog. Destiny's game is truly difficult to comprehend, to think you'd find an actual home so far from your supposed one.

You add without waiting for her reply, “When I first came here, I was so scared and paranoid. I couldn't sleep the first night and I wanted nothing more than to flee the next morning. I really mean it when I say I couldn't make it without your and the others' help.”

Your palm cradles the beat of your existence, the thin fabric of the crop top does little to muffle your heart's clamorous prance.

“Thank you, thank you so much for everything.” your pour as much gratitude from the river coursing through the recesses of your soul in those words. Your chest constricts as you sigh, you remember all the faces that are now known as familiar and random instances buried deep in your memories. Perhaps it's the naturally cold weather of this planet that plays a part, but you furrow your brows as inexplicable sorrow engulfs your heart.

“I, too, hope that you've had a wonderful experience on this planet.”

A much younger you used to judge the victims of stories for choosing to freeze than to flee in the face of candid danger, vowing to not follow in their footsteps should you meet such a predicament one day. Your heart would shatter to incorrigible bits if it hadn't been so viciously twisted, you realize how futile promises are at the thin line separating life and death.

Your body flinches from its hunched position to meet watchful golden eyes, shielded by the door's shadow. You blink a multitude of times, as if that'd make his poised presence disappear, as if that'd affirm that you were simply in the grips of anxiety and Serval would return to reprimand you back to reality.

The warmth drains from your body when he's still there, sitting in front of you with a mocking serenity — you've never hated the vice grip he maintains on his composure more than this moment. Why, how, when and what conjoins his name to frame a myriad of questions, each being answered by none other than you the very next second. Your ears twitch when you catch voices at the end of the hallway, the actual Serval and others must be retreating. You might be a deer inches away from the tiger's jaw, but you'll not go down without a fight, at least.

“If you're planning to scream, I'd advise against that.” Sunday calmly states, your breath catches in your throat. “The choker on your neck has a shock mechanism and it can be activated in various ways. Namely, any time you raise your voice above the coded decibels and the voltage will increase the louder you scream.”

Your hand flies upwards towards the cursed choker and you wrestle a breath in disbelief, you were made a fool of and quite exquisitely. You realize you should've listened to your gut instincts when you still had the choice. Sunday raises a gloved palm when you restlessly tug at the thing, “Don’t bother, it can only be taken off with a password.”

A password only he knows, you conclude. It was not news to you that his sanity is loose from the hinges of his soul, but never would you have expected him to go this far. You glare at your husband, though it looks more like a gazelle's helpless stare as it struggles in the jaws of a predator. The voices from the hallway disappear entirely, you'd told them not to look for you so they'll not return, you feel your eyes moisten as you realize you're stuck alone with Sunday.

“Why—” you choke.

“I understand that you must have a lot of questions,” his words are half resignation and half cheap empathy. “But it is not your turn to speak, for there are more pressing matters at hand.”

Sunday stands up, brows scrunching at the dust floating around the room. “The matter of your possible unfaithfulness is one thing,” his hand grips the handle of the door and you flinch. “But performing in front of so many people without any consideration of how far it'll spread, or choice of attire,” your body erupts in shudders upon feeling his pointed stare, the expanse of your exposure finally registering.

“Truly unbefitting of my spouse.”

But it's not his judging gaze that has your nerves frayed, it's the hints of genuine disappointment that borders on anger leaking through his words that makes you feel parched, makes you want the earth split in half and take you from this situation. Your experience with Sunday has taught you that he has the patience of a saint, but none of those memories reassure you that it's boundless. You realize that you've never actually seen his face contorted in ire, no matter how defiant you'd been. Aeons, you wish it stayed that way forever.

As the shadow of the closing door engulfs your form and leaves the rest to interpretation, the last thing you see are his darkened golden eyes — you're certain that, that was the instance the last spirited part of you died.

rest in peace i guess

#requests: batch two #answered #yandere #yandere sunday #yandere sunday x reader #sunday #sunday x reader #sunday x you #yandere hsr #yandere hsr x reader #yandere honkai star rail #yandere honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader

[kitorin]

in which, itoshi rin expresses his love for you in, peculiar ways.

itoshi rin is wearily watching his opponent's highlights when you tug on the sleeve of his hoodie.

he almost rips his earbud out by the wire, contrariwise to the soft gaze he gives you, the slight tilt of his head accompanied by a quiet hum asks you what's wrong.

"were you busy? i can ask later."

"'course not." without hesitation he turns his phone off and tosses it somewhere onto his bed. "something wrong?"

you lean against the coffee table, where the two of you were studying; match analysis for rin and unfortunately an infuriating research task for your upcoming exam. your chin rests on both your palms, fingers cupping your own cheek.

"what's your favourite thing about me?"

owlishly, he stares, then blinks. you mimic his actions, waiting for a response.

"i have to pick?"

you nod eagerly. "it feels like a while since i've properly spoken to you. we don't have any classes together and i've been studying during break times. and i keep falling asleep on the bus."

rin nods with understanding. "then my favourite thing about you is that."

"is what?"

"i love watching you sleep."

it takes a lot not to make a stupefied face.

of all answers you expected, it was clearly not that. rin's love languages centred around quality time and physical touch, but he's still fully capable of uttering sweet nothings. which was something you were desperately craving at the moment.

"rin that's so creepy—"

his typical stoicism melts away into bewilderment. "it is?"

oh my god, did your boyfriend have some sort of strange fetish?

"i don't get it." rin frowns. "it's been making me happy recently, why's it so bad?"

"but why's that?"

lithe fingers brush a few strands of hair behind your ears. "you're always so tired recently, it makes me feel at peace seeing you rest. i'm relieved knowing that you're getting a proper break." his aquamarine irises avoid eye contact, pink dusting his cheeks. "i like having you close to me, too."

guilt permeates your gut for having such assumptions. "sorry for assuming the worst, love." your hand cups his, bringing it to your lips for a kiss. "i'm just busy, with exams and stuff, y'know?"

"i know, and i get that. but i don't like the possibility of you collapsing from not sleeping enough, or burning out. and you deserve to sleep and eat properly, they're important for learning and improvement too."

and rin's right, it just feels as though there's not enough time, with so many exams being stuffed into such a little period. there's the fear of failing, falling behind peers and all the efforts you've put in amounting to nothing because of a mistake.

but as he said, rest is important, just as much as working hard. success cannot be attain with one without the other.

you settle yourself onto rin's lap, resting your head on his shoulder, and back against his chest, placing a small kiss on his cheek. "thanks for reminding me, i'm done for today. let's make the most of tonight."

he responds with a small smile, and wraps his arms around your waist, nuzzling his face into your neck.

"i must be really pretty then, if watching me sleep is that enjoyable." you throw out an attempt of teasing him, waiting for his reaction.

"nah. your face kinda squishes up on my shoulder."

"wow. okay. i see—"

"your neck also ends up in the weirdest positions so i usually have to move you around to make sure you don't have too much neck pain later."

"very sweet of you, that's enough though."

"did i mention you drool sometimes too?"

"rin—"

taglist (send ask to be added) : @yuzurins , @pokkomi , @chigirizzz

© kitorin : do not repost, plagiarize, change, or translate

#silly little brainrot hi #unproofread btw #blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bllk #fluff #itoshi rin #rin #itoshi #rin itoshi #itoshi brothers #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin x you #itoshi x reader #itoshi rin x y/n #bllk x you #bllk x y/n #bllk x gender neutral reader #bllk x female reader #bllk fluff #bluelock

[puranami]

✿ Fever - 1 ✿

A/N: Not included Brook and Jimbei bc I have absolutely no idea how to write them. Also, since Chopper is baby it would feel weird including him, even though it'd be in a purely platonic way. Just because of all the pining going on. Idk, I'd rather keep the themes separate, if that makes sense?

Summary: You're sick and try to ignore it.

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Nami, Usopp, Sanji, Robin, Franky.

Content: SFW, G/N reader, no serious illness but Usopp's is a liiiiittle angsty bc of his mum, not proofread (effectively) bc it's past 2am ✿

(Part 2)

Luffy

✿ He's honestly oblivious to things at first. You are doing your best to maintain your usual level of enthusiasm but it's so exhausting, and that's the most he registers - that you're tired.

"Hey, did ya not sleep too good?" he asked, entirely too loud for the headache beginning to form. You groan and lean your head into your hand, as if that would somehow soothe things, but to no avail. "Don't worry about it, I swear it won't affect my duties," you say, not sure who you were trying to convince. Apparently it didn't work regardless, as when you looked at him he was just stood there frowning with his arms crossed, and his head tilted. Before you could say anything you were greeted with a rubbery palm lightly smacking against your forehead, earning a surprised yelp from you. "You're hot." "Luffy!" Of course he had to say it that way. If you weren't already burning up with this fever, that would've set your skin ablaze. He really had no filter, and he never realised how the things he said affected you. He removed his hand from your face to grab your own, turning to drag you back to your quarters, not listening to any of your protests on the matter. There really wasn't anything you could do once Luffy had made up his mind, and you'd be lying if you said it wasn't part of his charm. "No duties for you today, 'kay?" It may have been phrased like a question, but you knew it was 'Captain's orders.'

✿ You'd end up sleeping most of the day, with Luffy having gotten Chopper to look after you.

✿What you wouldn't be aware of was his constant presence while you slept, keeping a quiet vigil whilst he made sure the damp cloth on your head was always nice and cool.

✿ He just wants you to get better as fast as you can!

Zoro

✿ One word; clueless.

✿ It just looks like a hangover to him, what with the way you groan at the light, are unsteady on your feet, and complain about being nauseous.

"And I thought I drank a lot last night." he'd comment with a smirk. "Shut up, Zoro, you always drink a lot," you whine. "I didn't drink anything!" "The pathetic whining says otherwise." You threw the rag you'd been cleaning with at him. He raised an eyebrow, watching it harmlessly drop to the floor in front of him. "Your form is off." This man, you swear! You try to growl out an insult, but it dies on your tongue, a wave of nausea hitting in it's place, causing you to clasp a hand to your mouth. "Alright, easy champ, no need to strain yourself," Zoro raised his hands in faux surrender. "Come on, you gotta sleep this one off." He can't help but smile as you pathetically smack at him while he picks you up, opting for bridal style as opposed to flour sack, only so you don't empty your guts down his back. Saying that, he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy holding you like that, though you're far too busy trying to fight him to notice the dusting of pink on his cheeks. "Don't worry I'll get you through this. I know my way around a hangover." "I'm not hungover," you protest as he gently places you in a hammock.

✿ True to his word though, he does see you through it, even if 'it' is the wrong thing. Task failed successfully!

✿ Zoro stays beside you, makes sure you drink plenty of water, and get plenty of rest, even falling asleep himself at one point; his face inches from yours as he was leaning against the post the top end of the hammock was attached to at the time.

✿ Sadly you never saw that as you slept right through it. Would've been good ammunition to use against him when he needed taking down a peg.

Nami

✿ One of the people who would actually do a good job of looking after you. She's not got the gentlest bedside manner; she is firm yet fair, so you're in good hands.

When you don't join the crew for breakfast, Nami took it upon herself to make sure you hadn't gotten tangled in your hammock, or something equally as stupid. You wake up in a cold sweat when you hear your door open, and manage to croak out, "Nami? Oh, did I oversleep?" When you try to get up, she pushes you right back down. "Don't." Her tone indicates that she will not tolerate any shenanigans, and so you do as you're told. "You need to sleep more. I'll get you some water, and later Sanji will make you some soup." She tucks a thin blanket around you, so you don't overheat. "If you so much as try to get out of this hammock I'm going to tie your arms and legs together. Understood?" Unable to stop yourself, you let out a light chuckle. "Nami, you're so cute when you pretend not to care," the fever disabling any kind of filter you may have had. While it did catch her by surprise, you are none the wiser, as you quickly drift back off to sleep. Nami has to take a brief moment to collect herself again, silently cursing the noticeable warmth in her cheeks, then mumbling about how you're an idiot before leaving your room.

✿ Nami basically dictates how your day is. Lots of sleep, plenty of fluids and maybe a warm bath to help sweat this out, and of course she 'requests' (demands) Sanji make a hearty soup to help you get better, which he is more than happy to do for her!

✿ She'll deny it, but she sets up in your room so she can monitor you throughout the day, only going to Chopper for medicine if she thinks it's bad enough, deciding it isn't necessary to bother him with something so manageable.

Usopp

✿ He panics. Something about seeing someone he cares about getting sick makes him think of his mother, and he doesn't want to lose anyone else like that.

Usopp scoops you up and books it to Chopper. You've seen him afraid, but nothing this intense, and no matter how much you try to convince him that you're okay, and that it's just a cold - you can't seem to break through to him. "Chopper, please help! Please!" He begs as he gently places you on a bed. Tears are streaming down his face, as he takes your hand in a vice-like grip. Once Chopper confirms what you already tried to tell him about it being a common cold, he relaxes a bit. You don't hold it against him, clearly this is something deeper for him. Chopper's words, those of a professional, were very reassuring. "You just need rest, but I do have medicine to help with symptoms if you need," he says before putting a comforting little hoof on Usopp's knee. "Everything will be okay, I promise." Usopp takes a moment to collect himself before quietly saying, "Can I stay?" You and Chopper look at each other before smiling back at him, letting him know he is welcome to stay as long as he likes, or in this case needs. Neither of you press him on why this had him so scared, figuring he'll tell you if and when he's ready to.

✿ Chopper will handle all of your care, because Usopp refuses to leave your side.

✿ He keeps you entertained with his stories when you're awake, and scribbles on some loose papers Chopper gives him while you sleep. It's mainly ideas for things to make, and it keeps him calm.

✿ At one point he falls asleep with his arms crossed on the bed beside you, his little fingers linked with your own, like an unspoken promise that you'll get better, and he'll be there when you do.

Sanji

✿ As soon as Sanji catches on that you are sick, he decides to completely dedicate himself to your care and recovery! He's very attentive, and will do every little thing you want or need to get you back to health.

"Darling, I insist!" Every 'it's okay,' and 'you don't need to do all that for me,' will be shot down immediately. "What kind of man would I be if I let someone as lovely as you do anything in this condition?" He clutches his chest dramatically. "No, no. Don't you worry about a thing; I'll make sure you're well again in no time at all." You really don't have the energy to try and dissuade him, so you accept your fate, and let him dote on you the whole day. It's honestly really nice; you love having his attention, and are thankful that the fever hides your blushes, but you also can't help feeling a little guilty with how much he does for you. "Please don't overexert yourself on my behalf, I don't want you to end up getting sick yourself." "Even if I was sick, it wouldn't stop me from looking after you, my dear." You can't help but frown at this. He's so eager to do for others, but is painfully stubborn about receiving that same care. "If you're ever sick, Sanji, I'm gonna do everything that you've done for me - and I won't hear any objection from you on the matter!" You say in as stern a voice as you can manage with a sore throat. "Darling-" "Nope!" You cut him off quickly, "You deserve the same level of care that you give out!" He looks at you a little wide-eyed, an adorable blush creeping along his face. He lets out a small laugh. As much as he'd like to, he says nothing more on it; you're as stubborn as he is it would seem.

✿ Sanji makes lots of lovely food to help aid in your recovery; warming soups, peppermint tea, porridge with ginger and honey. Everything that soothes and settles, no matter the malady.

✿ His bedside manner is impeccable! He's so gentle with you, and he makes sure to check in as often as he can, whilst still doing his duties, getting as much done as possible while you're asleep.

✿ Like Nami, he only goes to Chopper if he feels your condition requires it. He's confident that his cooking will be more than enough to get you back to health.

Robin

✿ A blessing, and a curse. She's very logical, and she knows how to handle such a minor illness, but, she really can't help telling you all about other illnesses that have worryingly similar symptoms.

"Oh, this one is very unpleasant," she beams, and you can't help but press your hands over your ears. "Chopper!" You cry, before she can start telling you about this particular strain of 'instantdeathitus,' practically running into the infirmary with Robin hot on your heels, holding an open book on diseases. "Robin keeps talking about scary diseases and now I'm scared I'm gonna die!" After being given a quick check-up, and much reassurance that, no, you do not have a rare disease that can only be contracted on a specific island in a completely different ocean, and yes, it is just a common cold, you relax. Mostly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," Robin says later once you have bundled up and settled down. "Your cold just reminded me of this book, and I thought it was fascinating. I just wanted to share it with you." She clearly felt guilty, and you appreciated that this was just how she is, but you really would've rather she'd chosen a different topic to tell you about. "Maybe, you have a book on old remedies you could tell me about instead?" Robin perks back up at this. She truly values how much you understand her, and she can see why talking about diseases when your ill is not the most pleasant experience, so this is a perfect compromise. "That's a wonderful idea," she smiles, and you swear she puts the sun to shame with how bright her smile is. "There might be one we can try that will help with your recovery."

✿ Once you get past the scary disease hiccup, Robin is a great companion, looking up home remedies, and trying out the ones that are clearly based on logic as opposed to superstition.

✿ If you find a good remedy, she's excitedly write it down, and later pass the information on to Chopper.

✿ She's happy to get you water when needed, and will watch over you as you nap in the library. It's one of the quietest parts of the ship, so there is no way to disturb you there.

Franky

✿ Aside from Chopper, Franky is genuinely the best at dealing with sick people. He tones down his behaviour, and knows exactly what you need to get back on your feet.

Your head was absolutely thundering, at least that's how it felt. Franky clocked onto your condition as soon as he saw you enter the kitchen, and once you had what you came in for, he hurried you off to his workshop. You thought it was an odd choice. "Shouldn't I go somewhere quiet?" "I know it doesn't seem it, but I can keep this place absolutely silent if I need to. No music, no one else barging in and making a racket," he said, keeping his voice uncharacteristically quiet. "Also the walls are soundproof - keeps noise out just as well as it keeps my noise in." "Oh! That's really impressive," even when ill, there is a sparkle in your eyes when he tells you about pretty much anything he's designed or built. You notice his cheeks turning red, but assume that it's just from the compliment as he looked so proud when you gave it to him. "That's not all," he grins, "I've been working on a lil something, and now's the perfect time to show you!" That certainly piqued your interest, and he was doing a great job at distracting you from how bad you felt. Franky led you to one of the corners of the room, one that was covered in a large tarp. You'd seen it many times, and you were always curious, but he'd always brushed it off whenever you brought it up, so the thought of finally seeing what was under there was exciting! Pulling down the tarp revealed a little alcove that was almost like a nest considering the amount of cushions. "It's a space for you," he said sheepishly, "so you have somewhere comfortable to sit when you hang out in here. I figured you could rest there whilst you're ill, and I can look out for you." You stared at it in absolute wonder, big shining eyes darting between it and him. "It's absolutely perfect, thank you so much!"

✿ Franky kept the workshop quiet like he said he would, and whenever you needed anything, like water or medicine, he'd go and get it for you.

✿ At some point Chopper came in to check on you, since Franky had mentioned you were ill, but there really wasn't much to do about it besides getting lots of rest, and you had that covered.

✿ He'd work on his quiet projects, the ones still in the planning and design stages, whilst you slept peacefully in your cosy nest.

#one piece imagine #one piece x reader #one piece x you #luffy x reader #luffy x you #zoro x reader #zoro x you #nami x reader #nami x you #usopp x reader #usopp x you #sanji x reader #sanji x you #robin x reader #robin x you #nico robin x reader #nico robin x you #franky x reader #franky x you #cyborg franky x reader #cyborg franky x you #monkey d luffy #roronoa zoro #cat burglar nami #god usopp #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #nico robin #cyborg franky

[aft3rhrs]

— number: unknown ღ

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: strangers to lovers

warnings: dead dove, yandere, manipulation, corruption, mentions of stalking, mentions of therapy, dirty talk, humiliation, obsession, mentions of masturbation & dub con sex, allusions to cnc, allusions to depression and anxiety, hints of fear kink, use of triggering words in an erotic and degrading manner* (listed under the cut).

*use of the word “rape”.

masterlist

In the last few months, you've grown used to the sound of your phone ringing late at night. It still sent your heart into a frenzy, nerves sparking up like wires — but you peeked at the screen nonetheless, taking less and less time to hesitate to answer.

Number: Unknown.

Palms sweaty, you clicked accept on the call.

A chuckle greeted you.

"Lonely?"

You tried to ignore the chill his voice sent rippling down your spine, raising goosebumps along the way.

"What do you want?"

"Don't be like that," Jungkook cooed. "I missed you. Wanted to check in. What's up? How was therapy last week?"

The question came with a tint of mockery, instantly dusting your cheeks. It wasn't surprising by now that he knew; he knew everything about you, it seemed, from soul to entrails. But you couldn't wrap your head around how, or why he even paid such close attention in the first place. All you were capable of comprehending clearly was the anger blazing in your chest.

"Screw you."

"Aw, come on," he crooned on the line. "I'm just checking up on my favorite girl. Any progress? Did you tell your therapist you let your stalker fuck you right after filing a report? Did you tell him you pick up my calls?"

You felt his words swirl and burn in your stomach, as if you downed a glass of liquor. Shame crawled all over your skin, hot and uncomfortable. Why couldn't you find it in yourself to hang up? For a moment, you considered doing just that, but then quickly brushed off the idea.

Better to entertain him like this than to have him show up at your door.

Right...?

He could hear you breathe in, the lack of an answer curving his lips upwards.

"Well, that's okay. I really don't like you seeing him, though. I'm kind of offended you went to someone else for help."

"You're the reason I need help!" You hissed, unable to stop yourself. "You're seriously sick in the head."

"What a mouthy little thing you are," Jungkook murmured. "Pretty brave for someone who claimed she's afraid of me." His voice lowered to a whisper. "Pretty hypocritical too... I might be crazy, but you're the one still talking to me. Didn't you come all over my cock like a good little girl too? I think you might be a bit sick yourself, sweetheart."

Oh god.

No.

You pretended you didn't feel yourself clench around thin air, pretended your underwear wasn't getting drenched.

"But I don't mind," he continued, raspy, "I can be your therapist, baby. I'll help you feel better."

Your eyes fluttered closed, head growing foggy.

"Why keep running? Why keep running if you always let me catch up?"

"I don't," you whispered, "I'm trying to—"

"No," Jungkook tsked, "you're not. Are you too scared to face yourself in the mirror? Do you see my eyes when you try?"

You shivered for some reason.

"No."

"That's a lie... You like it when I chase you, and no therapy is ever going to help you. You know why?" He coaxed, soft. "Do you know where your sickness lies, angel...? It's not in your head. It's in your heart. You dont trust love, you don't feel it, unless it's got you losing breath, nice and tight, like a noose. Why don't you let me give it to you?"

Despite the pounding of your heart, you tried to keep his words out of your mind, tried to focus before you disappeared so deep into the fog, you'd become a part of it. But you were so tired... and floating in the dark, weightless, felt a little more like peace.

Still, swallowing thickly, you tried.

"Do you get off on taunting all your victims like some kind of psycho?"

"Oh baby," he sighed. "How many times do I gotta tell you? You're the only girl I want. No need to get jealous."

"Go fuck yourself—"

Another chuckle, then a groan.

"I should. I really want to... Miss you so much..."

Your stomach flipped.

"Miss your mouth. Didn't have time to fuck it back then... Would you let me now?"

"No," you breathed out, shaky.

Why were you still talking to him? Why were your thighs squeezed shut so hard?

"Mmm, that's what you said last time, and yet look who ended up begging me to fill that little cunt."

Your hand tightened around your phone, the pulsing in between your legs refusing to cease and getting harder to ignore.

"I know you could take it all," he breathed. "All down your pretty throat, no complaints. Would be too busy sucking, right, baby?"

"Why even bother asking?" you whispered, your voice small, like you knew the answer already.

Because you did.

"Makes me hard," Jungkook admitted, shameless. "It's cute to see you struggle. Acting like a frightened little doe, like you weren't waiting for a wolf to eat you up."

The confession was so dirty, nothing short of predatory; but it made your cunt throb and heat stick to your underwear, and you couldn't decide if you were more disturbed by him or by your own reactions.

"Fuck..." he swore hoarsely. "All that screaming and fighting only to end up begging for it. Do you like it forced? No need to think, no need to make choices. Just taking my cock like a good little rape toy, yeah?"

You weren't able to contain the hitch of your breath, thighs quivering and spine tingling all over.

Jungkook moaned softly in response, the sound shooting straight through your pussy.

"Wanna come?"

This wasn't happening.

You were losing grasp of reality, consumed by the need to find a lifeline. You felt like you caught a fever, your reply coming out more mellow than intended.

"No. Please stop."

"You're a bad liar, little doe. Without me your body and soul feel empty. You need me as much as I need you."

Your eyes fell shut. You shook your head, repeating your denial like a prayer.

"No..."

Your brain was running on automatic, trying to hold on to some semblance of rationality.

"Does it make you feel better to say that?" Jungkook muttered. "Wouldn't it be easier to give in? I know how much you wanna sneak your hand into your panties. Go on, baby. Rub all your thoughts away. It will feel so good."

You felt your thighs tremble again, the wetness between them unbearable. It was getting harder to breathe through the rising heat, your mouth falling open, trying to catch more oxygen into your lungs.

"Go on, pretty. I'll come with you... Just say the word."

Yes.

No, that wasn't right.

Please...

"No," you forced out again, something that sounded too much like a whimper. "I'm going. Stop calling me."

Jungkook just sighed.

"Shame. Can you at least move closer to the window? Do a little twirl for me. I missed you so much..."

Your head snapped in the direction of the window, heart jumping in alarm. Jungkook seemed to know; he sounded so amused, like it was all a game. And he was winning.

"Just kidding. I have some things to do, but I will see you soon, baby."

"Jungkook—" you panicked, shaking your head, "please don't—"

"Goodnight. I love you."

Beep.

He hung up.

You hugged your knees and lowered your head onto them, welcoming the darkness that greeted you, eclipsing the faint glow of your nightlight.

Was this your fault? You were in pieces for so long; surely that must have been to blame for the sickening pull you felt to answer the phone every time he called.

Maybe that was how Jungkook had managed to get to you. Slithered in through the cracks, took advantage of all the empty spaces. Poured himself in like poison, down to the last drop. Maybe that was also why he needed you so much; there was nothing left of him but you.

You let yourself slump onto the bed, probably the last time you'd be able to sleep through the night somewhat calmly. Because when Jungkook said soon... he always meant soon.

And the clock refused to stop ticking.

taglist 💌: @whipwhoops @svnbangtansworld @ane102 @stellalovesstarss @crisle19 @jksteponme @kimseokjinsmirror1233 @dolphinmochi

#sorry to those I couldn't tag! ❤️ #anyway lmao #dead dove #yandere bts #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts reactions #bts smut #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts yandere #jungkook smut

[gyuscoquetteribbon]

^᪲᪲᪲ what the world has to offer

SYNOPSIS: you were supposed to be home about thirty minutes ago. mingyu doesn't know why you aren't home yet and all his calls are left unanswered and his texts, delivered, but not read.

PAIRING: mingyu x gn!reader

GENRE: fluff, established relationship

WORD COUNT: 1.1k

notes: this is pretty self indulgent y'all also also omg first written piece that i've posted for the world to see in 4 years???? also im not very satisfied with how i ended this so my bad y'all but hopefully i get to write more in the coming weeks !!

hpr btw

'i'm close by, i'll be there in five mins !!!'

going by your last text, you should've been home about thirty minutes ago. needless to say, mingyu was beyond worried, pacing back and forth in your shared kitchen while he also he kept an eye on the boiling pasta.

'y/n.'

delivered.

'y/n why aren't you answering my calls???'

delivered, yet again.

delivered, but not read.

mingyu's anxiety, which had picked up upon the ten minute mark, only increased as all his texts were left unopened and unanswered.

the pasta had finally come to a boil. as mingyu turns the stove off, a soft tune fills the otherwise empty house.

his phone was ringing.

mingyu goes to pick his phone up, his speed only picking up when he sees your name illuminating on the phone screen. he attends your call, ready to chide you as he adjusts his phone so that you could see his (rather upset) face.

"y/n, why the fuck won't you—"

"i don't think i'm coming home tonight," you cut him off.

mingyu raises an eyebrow. he knew exactly why you were late the moment he saw you sat, leaning against a wall that looked much like the wall of the entrance to your apartment complex.

you angle your phone towards your lap, and there it was. the reason why you weren't home yet.

laying down cozily on your lap was a sleeping cat, pearly white fur with specks of dust and brown spots. if mingyu was right the stray was probably—

"i think he was abandoned," you pull him away from his thoughts, gently swiping your fingers over the cats ear that was cut at the tip, indicating it was spayed either by a rescue team or its previous owner. your free hand goes to cradle its head as it tips back.

a soft smile falls on mingyu's slightly chapped lips, his eyes gazing at his screen with so much love. he leans closer to the camera. "you don't even look at me with this much love," mingyu jokes, causing you to chuckle softly, "i'll bring him something to eat yeah?"

you nod and allow mingyu to cut the call. a shiver runs down your spine while you wait for your boyfriend to come down to join you. it was a particularly chilly evening. as you wait for mingyu, you watch the cat as its body rises and falls in a gentle rhythm. you had placed your woolen scarf over the cat earlier, when it had fallen asleep, afraid that it might be too cold for him. you sit there, wondering how confused the cat must have felt upon being thrown into the streets to fend for itself after being sheltered for so long. you felt sorry. the world is too cruel, you think to yourself.

"hi," mingyu's voice pulls you out of your thoughts. you lift your head to look up at your grinning boyfriend, the scarf wrapped around his neck doesn't hide his sharp canines shining under the dim light of the lamppost.

"hi," you whisper back as mingyu squats down across you. with all the sudden commotion, the cat stirs awake, sleep eyes blinking up at the new figure before him. "he's awake," you note, eyeing the cat cautiously, praying that the presence of another person doesn't scare him.

the cat sits up immediately, the scarf draped over his body, slipping onto the ground. its eyes land on the small tin of cat food which mingyu had bought along. good thing mingyu had bought a bunch of those since you have a habit of feeding strays in your area whenever you come across one.

you loved cats. mingyu knew that much. going out on walks with you almost always meant that you'd both would have to stop somewhere in the side of a road because you came across a stray cat. sometimes, you'd stop mid conversation if you see one, rushing towards it, muttering a soft "look! cat!" mingyu doesn't mind, though.

in fact, it was this quality of yours that made him fall so deeply in love with you. despite the pain the world had given you, love was all you ever gave back. that too with a big grin on your face. when you'd run towards a stray cat mid-conversation, you'd miss the fond smile that'd fall on mingyu's lips. when he'd go shop for groceries, you'd miss the absent-minded smile that'd paint his lips when he'd inevitably walk down the aisle containing pet food. when he'd see you sat beside your potted plant, talking for hours about anything and nothing at all while a slow song plays in the background, you'd miss the way he'd look at you, with hearts in his eyes.

they can hear you. it helps them grow better, you had told him.

once again, you had missed the way he was smiling at you. "or so it seems." a puff of air briefly forms in front of mingyu's mouth as a chuckle escapes his lips. the cat jumps out of your lap and approaches the can of food cautiously, almost as if it'd disappear if he'd look away. gently, mingyu pushes it closer towards the cat, assuring that the food is, in fact, for him.

you sit on your knees, your freezing hands falling on your lap as the cat takes his first few bites, his entire face fitting into the can. when he lifts his head, his overgrown whiskers are coated with minced meat. you and mingyu coo softly as the cat looks up at the two of you with his minced meat clad fur and whiskers.

you laugh, your eyes crinkling at the sides. you sounded so beautiful. music that mingyu wishes was only reserved for his ears; for him to listen to and cherish. but alas, the world knows your name.

"you've taken quite a liking towards him," mingyu points out.

you look at your boyfriend, "i wish we could take him home." an unsaid plea.

mingyu laughs softly, reaching forward to gently pat your head, "i'm free tomorrow. i'll pick you up from work and we both can take him to get vaccinated, alright?" he smiles, mirroring your own beaming smile, "i'm sure bopeul would like a friend or two when we go visit my family when i get a break."

"and, i'm sure dollop would love bopeul too," you say.

mingyu raises a brow, "is that what we're naming him?"

"yes."

"dollop it is then," he smiles, reaching down to gently boop its snout.

you miss the way mingyu smiles at you when you aren't looking. but, you never miss the way he loves you. all the little ways he's shown his love. you've never once had to ask for something. he'd know.

maybe this was what the world had to offer for all the love you've given it.

#seventeen #mingyu #kim mingyu #seventeen oneshot #fluff #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #mingyu oneshot #mingyu x reader

[undreaming-fanfiction]

In honor of Easter...

Eddie Munson can't sleep. Maybe it was the almost expired can of spaghetti that he had for dinner, maybe it's the new campaign he's itching to plan, maybe it's being back in the Hawkins High with yet another fight for graduation he's bound to lose because his literature teacher was yet another victim of Danny Munson's petty crimes, and what better revenge than to repeatedly fail his son that Danny lost to social services ten years ago?

Or maybe it's the weird rustling under his window.

Now Eddie, he's a survivor. He runs, yes, but that's because there's nothing to protect. His honor? Oh please.

But if there's someone trying to break into the only real home he's ever known? That's different.

He grabs an empty beer bottle that he's been intending to throw out for a week or so and heroically - and stupidly - jumps out of his window. He expects to maybe land into a bush. Do a superhero landing or something.

What he doesn't expect is a pained wheeze and "what the fuck?!" yelled by his landing zone.

Eddie scrambles back to his feet and raises the bottle. Perhaps he should have broken it first to make it more threatening? He swings it against the trailer wall and it shatters almost completely, leaving with a small ring of glass in hand.

The figure he landed on curses again and tries to scramble back on their feet.

Eddie raises the pitiful remains of the bottle. "Uh. Stop you...you scoundrel!" he threatens, except it doesn't sound like a threat, more like a plea. "Or I'll stab you with this..." he looks at the glass ring again, "...with this."

He hopes the intruder will flee. More likely, he's going to be jumped, punched and killed. But what Eddie absolutely does not expect is the town's pretty boy, Steve Harrington, dusting his knees and glaring at Eddie with hands on hips like a pissed off soccer mom. "Jesus Christ, Munson, are you trying to wake up the whole park?" he hisses.

Eddie suddenly feels very stupid. He lets go of the broken bottle and it lands in the dirt with a quiet clink. "Harrington? Uh...dude, I mean no disrespect and all, but why are you under my window?"

Steve's look could kill. "It's Easter tomorrow, what do you think I'm doing? Hiding eggs." He points to the basket full of eggs nearby.

It makes sense. Except it doesn't. Eddie pokes the eggs and they don't explode, so at least that's good. "Why on earth would you, Steve "the Hair" Harrington, be hiding eggs in a trailer park? Don't you have like, a fancy neighborhood to do this in? With Belgian chocolate eggs and champaigne for the bored moms and stuff like that?"

Steve sighs and runs fingers through his hair. Eddie notices with a pang of guilt that it's flattened where his foot landed. That's also a good moment to realize that he's only in his boxers and a t-shirt and barefoot.

But Steve doesn't seem to notice. He just vaguely gestures around. "Those neighborhoods have committees and stuff like that. And it's normal there. Look, I don't think local kids have a lot of good stuff going on. I know one of them, and she deserves to have one day like a normal kid, no worries, no thinking if her mom can afford it. So I'm preparing an egg hunt here. Or I was, before someone half-naked dropped on top of me and shattered a bottle over a pretty good hiding spot I found."

"Shit! Sorry!" Eddie immediately starts picking up the shards, or at least tries to in the dark. At least until a large hand grabs his own.

"Christ, Munson! Stop!" Steve hisses. "Do you want to cut yourself? I will just move the egg somewhere else and pick up the glass before it starts in the morning. And for fuck's sake, stop moving! Do you want to step on a shard?"

That finally calms Eddie down. He sighs and hangs his head down. "You know, Harrington, one might think you're a good dude. If one wasn't careful."

Steve nudges his side. "One should be careful. Now come on, I will give you a boost." When Eddie stares at him, he adds: "to your window. You want to go back to sleep, no?"

Eddie clears his throat. "Actually, I was thinking I'd love to grab my sneakers and help you, I know a lot of good hiding spots. Is that cool?"

Harrington thinks for a moment, then he nods. "Yep, cool. Now, do you need a lift?"

Back in the familiar clutter of his bedroom, Eddie thinks it was a fever dream, a hallucination from a food poisoning, the final revenge of the spaghetti can.

But then he hears Harrington whisper after him: "Don't you dare come out without those sneakers, Munson! No bare feet are getting near shattered glass on my watch!"

And Eddie just snickers, leans out of the window and whispers back: "For you, big boy? I'll even wear pants!"

#steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #steddie drabble #steddie au #steddie easter #steve x eddie

[rafesfavgirl]

two graves, one gun — r. cameron

sad rafe fic bc i just got my period and i'm feeling extra emotional :')

series: every few lifetimes

❝ so long, london stitches undone two graves, one gun you'll find someone ❞

pairing: bf!rafe x fem!reader

context: after another night of getting coked out and passing out on barry's couch, rafe realizes you deserve better than him and decides to let you go.

words: 1.3k+

warnings: drug addiction, break-up, might make you cry, ANGSTY asl

the sole of your heel taps anxiously against your living room's hardwood floor, as you stared at the time on your phone's lock screen, which lit up with a photo that wheezie took of you and rafe sitting at one of the tables at midsummers last year, looking at each other as if you were the only people there.

8:30 p.m.

your heart aches at the realization that he had forgotten your date again, but the nerves that settle in your stomach win over, as you think about where he probably is.

pushing your weight off the sofa, you grab your car keys from the hooks on the wall, and dial rafe on your way out the door.

straight to voicemail. fuck.

you skip down the steps in front of your house and unlock your car in the driveway to get in, immediately starting the engine to get on your way.

you dial rafe again as you pull into the road—to no avail.

"damn it, rafe," you mutter, eyes switching between the road and your phone as you type him a message.

you: where are you???

when the message doesn't even go through, you let out a frustrated groan. either his phone's dead or it's switched off. you step on the gas to speed up, zigzagging between cars to get there faster.

you pull to an abrupt stop in front of a beat-down house on the south side, and switch the car off before hopping out.

"mrs. country club, what brings you to this side of the island?" barry stands from the porch when he sees you walking towards him, fuming.

"oh spare me the fake hospitality, barry," you tell him. "where is he?"

"where's who?" he shrugs—but you knew he knew what you were talking about.

"don't play dumb with me," you spat, attempting to walk past him. "i know he's here."

he steps to the side to block you from going any further. "maybe so, but it ain't a pretty sight."

"ugh," you manage to walk past him and proceed into the house, with him on your tail. "rafe!"

barry catches up to you and blocks your way again. "hey, i told you-"

"barry, you're really testing my patience here, alright?" you say, refusing to back down. you weren't scared of him—okay, maybe a little, but you weren't about to let him see that. "rafe!"

you push past barry again, and make your way further inside, immediately rushing to rafe, who was passed out face-down on barry's couch.

"oh my god, rafe!" you crouch down beside him, not missing the un-sniffed lines of coke on the wooden table in front of him, and pick up his head in your hands. "baby, baby," you gently pat his face with your hand. "can you hear me?"

"told you it wasn't a pretty sight," barry leans against a wooden post and watches you, making you roll your eyes.

"rafe," you try to wake him up again. "babe."

thankfully, his eyes flutter open, relief washing over you as you let out a sigh. "oh thank god."

"y/n?" his voice is barely above a whisper when his eyes lock with yours. "shit!"

you move aside when he suddenly sits up, searching the couch cushions for his phone. "what time is it?"

"rafe-"

"no, fuck!" he shouts when he realizes his phone is dead, and looks up at barry. "i told you to wake me up if i knocked out!"

"i'm not your keeper, cameron," barry shrugs. "just take your shit and go, a'ight?"

"baby…" rafe turns to you kneeling on the ground beside him, his voice much softer now. "i swear i set an alarm— i was just— i didn't think my phone would die and-"

"hey," you place your hand on top of his, squeezing it lightly to make him look at you. "don't worry about it. let's just get out of here, okay?"

he nods, and you stand up, dusting yourself off as you do.

"i'll meet you in the car, doll," he tells you. "i just gotta take care of something."

—

the car ride back to your house is almost completely silent, until rafe breaks it.

"you look beautiful, by the way," he says, eyes shifting to you.

you glance at him, a small smile on your lips. "thank you."

"god, i'm such an idiot!" he groans, clearly frustrated with himself over the situation. "how many missed dates is that this month?"

"rafe, i told you not to worry about it," you tell him. "it's okay, i get-"

"y/n," his voice is stern now, his eyes burning holes into your skin. "how many?"

you sigh, turning the wheel towards the curb to park the car in front of your house. "four," you answer, switching the ignition off. "that was the fourth one this month."

rafe scoffs and shakes his head, eyes averting away from you. he just couldn't look at you anymore, because he knew that even if you didn't show it, you were disappointed. not only at him, but maybe even yourself for putting up with him.

"hey," you place a hand on his knee, and he glances down at the gesture, before finally looking at you. "it's okay."

"how is it okay?" he asks, eyebrows furrowing. "all i do is disappoint you."

"baby, that's not true," you try to reassure him, but he doesn't buy it.

"it is true," he tells you. "and you don't deserve it."

not knowing what to say, you just glance down at your hand on his knee. "rafe…"

"no," he cuts you off, and places his hand above yours to slowly push it off of him. "i can't keep doing this to you."

letting out a sigh, you adjust yourself in your seat so you're looking at him. "okay, rafe, before you saying anything else— i love you, alright? there's nothing you can do that-"

"and that's exactly the problem, a'ight?" he snaps. "you're never gonna walk away from me yourself! even when i bought this shit from barry after i told you to wait in the car." he reaches into his pocket and tosses the small bag of blow in between the two of you. your eyes shift from it to him, the uneasiness in your stomach only getting worse.

"i have a problem y/n," he tells you. "and it's not the kind you can just 'fix' with love."

"then we'll get you help. we'll do any-" you try to reach out to him, but he resists.

"no," he says, motioning a hand between you two. "this has to end."

the words you dreaded hearing comes out of his mouth in one fell swoop, your heart shattering into a million pieces.

"what?"

"i'm never gonna be the guy you need me to be," he shakes his head at you, and if it weren't so dark outside, you swear you'd see his eyes watering. "and since you can't let go, i have to do it for you."

tears brim along your lower lashes as you speak, "no. that is not your choice to make."

"god, y/n, can you stop making this harder than it already is?" he pleads.

"can you stop acting like it's so easy?" you retort.

"you think this is easy?" he asks, taken aback by your accusation. "it kills me to do this."

"then don't," you say, voice cracking as you reach out for his hands. "we can work through your addiction together, rafe. we'll-"

"that's not your responsibility," he shakes his head at you. "if i'm gonna get better, i need to do it on my own."

you sob, "i— i don't want this to be the end.”

rafe glances down at your hands, before bringing his hand up to cup your cheek.

you lean into his touch, and a single tear rolls down your cheek—one that he wipes away with his thumb.

"i love you so much," he says, eyes closing as his head tilted down against yours. "i'm sorry."

his lips place a soft kiss on your forehead, and just like that, he's gone.

part 2.

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#rafe cameron #rafe #rafe obx #obx #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe x reader #rafe x y/n #outer banks #rafe outer banks #rafe fic #sad rafe #rafe angst #rafe cameron fic #obx fic