Tumgik
#it happened it still caught me off guard...........
sturnioz · 3 days
Text
‘DRIVERS PLEASURE’ — MATTHEW STURNIOLO
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
pairing. matthew sturniolo x fem!reader genre. smut
word count. 2.2k
❝do you want me to help you with that?❞
content warnings. established relationship, explicit content, car head, oral (m receiving), blowjob, handjob, small mention of spitting, mention of hair pulling, possible exhibitionism,
Tumblr media
You sigh softly as you glance at your reflection in the sun visor mirror of your boyfriends car, fingertips grazing the corner of your lips, erasing any excess lipstick that may have smeared during the ride and that your mascara hasn’t left any smudges on your eyelids.
You rushed when Matt had suddenly asked you out on a last-minute date and you were more than desperate to see him, having not been alone with him for a long period of time due to his busy schedule.
You had rapidly searched around your bedroom for the most suitable and clean clothing you could find, and hastily applied your makeup, your eagerness to finally see him overshadowed any concerns about your appearance until you you were parked outside the restaurant with just a few minutes remaining before you had to make it inside for your dinner reservation.
“What are you doing?”
“Making sure I look okay,” You tell him, adjusting the strands of hair framing your face. Your shoulders slump in defeat as you continue, “I don’t feel okay.”
Matt raises his eyebrow as he asks, “Why?”
“I rushed to get ready before you picked me up, so my makeup is all messy, and my outfit looks silly, and—”
“No, it doesn’t,” Matt interrupts your rambling, a gentle smile creeping onto his face as he gazes at you from the driver's seat. “I think you look pretty. Really pretty,” You side eye him sceptically, but Matt chuckles, his teeth gently biting down on his bottom lip as he widens his smile. “No, seriously, I mean it… you look beautiful.”
Your head turns towards him and your heart swells at his compliment. The adoration and affection reflected in Matt’s eyes is enough to make you a little overwhelmed and without hesitation, you lean over the console and cup his face, pressing your lips against his.
Matt’s surprised exclamation is muffled by the kiss, caught off guard as he didn’t expect you to kiss him so suddenly, but he allows himself to melt into your touch. His eyelashes flutter against his cheeks as he closes his eyes, tilting his head to deepen the kiss with more love and urgency. 
Every kiss you share with Matt feels like the first, sweet and tender. His lips on yours leaves you feeling dizzy as if you’re intoxicated, and you yearn for more, yet it never escalates beyond heavy make-out sessions with wandering hands that fail to explore beneath the clothes. 
Surprisingly, you don’t really mind. You didn’t want to push or rush into something that might ruin what you have with Matt. The relationship is still new, having only become official a few weeks ago, so there’s no need to rush into anything… However, there are moments when you crave for him. Badly. 
As always, you’re the one to break away from the kiss and an amused chuckle leaves you as Matt follows your lips, his own still puckered and waiting for you to return. Giving him one quick kiss, you suggest that it’s probably best for you both to go wait inside, unfastening your seatbelt and preparing to leave until Matt’s voice echoes throughout the vehicle. 
“Wait!”
His raised tone startles you and you jump as his hand extends out, firmly grasping your wrist to prevent you from opening the car door. Your movements freeze, and you gaze at him with concern swimming in your eyes, unsure of what’s happening and why he’s reacting in such a certain way.
You notice the pink hue tinting his cheeks and the flush that spreads across his neck, chest rising and falling rapidly with each heavy breath he takes. His mouth opens and closes like a fish out of what, and under different circumstances, the sight would’ve been hilarious. However, you were too worried about his sudden outburst to laugh.
Matt struggles to form a coherent sentence, and the grip his fingers have on your wrist tightens as he lowers his head to look down at his lap. Your gaze follows, and your eyes widen when you see the obvious tent in his pants.
Your hand rips free out of Matt’s grip as you slap it over your mouth, trying to stifle your laughter which makes Matt’s cheeks grow even more red.
“Wa—wait, I just—It’s like—” Matt stammers, his hands flailing in the air in a panicked manner before he hastily grabs the hem of his shirt, tugging it down to cover the bulge, avoiding direct eye contact with you. “Shut up. Stop. I have no control over that—”
“Matt, it’s okay.” You reassure him as your hand drops from your mouth, unable to hide the smile on your face. Truthfully, you’re a little flattered that a simple kiss can make Matt react like that. It boosts your ego immensely, and the thoughts that run through your mind are wild.
He continues to act embarrassed, tugging his shirt down further to hide himself but the friction of the shirt rubbing over the material of his jeans makes him tense up, eyes widening as a stifled grunt seeps past his lips. 
“Matt…” You call out his name and his head turns to finally meet your eyes. You feel confident, maybe too confident as you say your next words, “Do you want me to help you?"
“Help me?” He repeats, blinking at you. “What do you—Oh. Wait. No. I swear, it’s fine. Just give me a few minutes and it’ll—oh shit.”
Matt curses, hissing through his teeth as you decide to bravely place your hand on his upper thigh, squeezing the skin beneath your fingers as you lean in closer to him, the centre console digging into the stomach. His gaze flicks between your hand and you advancing towards him, unsure on where to look until your nose is barely brushing against his own.
He swallows thickly at that look on your face, silently asking him the same question again and he struggles to find his voice, bobbing his head slowly in a short nod. He lets go of his shirt, dropping his hands to his side limply as he watches you work the button of his jeans, popping them open and pulling down the zipper before your hand dips beneath the waistband, cupping his through his boxers.
Matt exhales deeply, body relaxing into the driver's seat as he observes your actions with half-lidded eyes, bottom lip tucked between his teeth and fists clenching at his side.
You’re giddy as you free his cock from his boxers, the sheer size of them sending a thrilling buzz to your cunt and you meet his eyes with a surprised grin.
“What?” His voice is quiet as he questions, “What’s wrong?”
“You’re big, Matt.”
Matt’s tongue prods at his cheek, trying to fight off the urge to smile at your compliment as his chin tucks into his chest, unable to look you in the eyes. His cheeks grow warm with a slight pink hue, but his mouth drops open with a sharp intake of breath as you slowly wrap your fingers around him the best you can. 
Your lips hover above his cock, letting a wad of spit sit at the tip and using your thumb to smear it over the slit and head of his cock, causing his hips to jerk upwards.
The sound of him whispering curses through airy gasps and grunts is enough to urge you downwards, taking his tip into your mouth, letting it lay on your tongue for an experimental taste before pushing your head further down, taking his cock into your throat and swallowing around him.
“Oh my go—fuck.” Matt suddenly whimpers loudly, pressing his fist to his mouth and biting down on his skin, nervous eyes glancing around the restaurant's parking lot to see if anyone was lingering around outside.
He was thankful to have brought you both out near nightfall, but he was even more thankful that he had decided to park a few spaces away from the building itself, tucked away beneath a tree and barely any street lights
You struggle not to smile at the effect you have on him as your bob your head, exaggeratingly moaning to send vibrations down his cock and again, his hips jerk upwards at the sensation, and a guttural sound rips from the back of your throat as he accidentally chokes you with his sudden movements. 
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—” He repeatedly apologises to you, his hand coming down to affectionately smooth the back of your head, ringed fingers getting tangled in your hair and he tugs without realising when you hollow your cheeks around him, the burn on your scalp sending a shiver down your spine.
“Does it feel good?” You ask him once you take your mouth off of him to breathe, using your hand to continue jerking him off as you gaze up at him.
Matt struggles to keep his eyes open as he nods, untangling his fingers out of his hair to press his palm on your cheek, putting at your bottom lip and you lay a gentle kiss on the pad of his thumb.
Matt smiles giddily at that, head lolling to the side and resting against the fogged up windows, breathing unsteady as he continues watching.
It completely erased from your mind that you’re currently giving Matt head in a public parking lot until you hear a distant car horn in the background, and usually, under any different circumstance, you would have stopped everything and asked to be driven away out of pure embarrassment from possibly getting caught.
But seeing the blissful look on Matt’s face, and how strangely nice it feels to have him in your throat, tasting him on your tongue, you don’t care. 
You almost wouldn’t mind if anyone walked by and caught the two of you in this position. 
“I think I’m gonna cum soon,” Matt breathes out heavily before his eyes widen. “Yeah, no—shit—you’re definitely gonna make me cum.”
“That’s okay.” You coo softly, giving him the sweetest smile before you swallow around him once again, tightening your throat around his cock and he grunts, his hand resuming its position on the top of your head again.
“Where do you want me to cum, sweetheart?” The pet name sends you spiralling and your cunt clenches around nothing, arousal building in the pit of your stomach. 
You move your head faster, working at a pace that has his thighs shaking. His cock fucks your throat raw and you can breifly hear him calling out your name, tugging at your hair slightly to get your attention and pull you off of him, but you resist and shove your head down further, the tip of your nose touching his navel.
“Fuck… do you want me to cum in your mouth?”
You hum around him for confirmation and Matt whines under his breath, voicing ‘you’re so hot’ as his hand falls from the top of your head to your free hand that’s resting on his knee for balance. 
His fingers thread through your own, intertwining them tightly, thumb caressing over your knuckles in small circles, and the second you squeeze his hand back, to let him know that you’ve got him, he cums in thick spurts down your throat with a moan.
Matt’s thighs trembling beneath you, but you take no notice, too busy making sure you’ve swallowed every drop he’s giving you, sucking him dry until he’s physically unable to give you anymore and is begging for you to release him, too sensitive to continue.
His cock falls from your mouth with a wet plop and you sit up in your seat, taking a quick glance in the sun visor mirror like you had done earlier before, and you stifle a laugh at how you’ve definitely ruined your makeup this time.
You reach for your purse and open it up, grabbing a few facial makeup wipes that you carry with you and try to clean yourself up as best as you possibly can, even though there was no use. 
Matt is panting heavily beside you, body twitching as he comes down from his high and he runs his fingers through his hair as he tries to regulate his breathing before he’s tucking his flaccid cock back into his boxers.
He’s buttoning up his jeans, casting you a glance as he pulls up the zipper, watching as you finish completely wiping the smudged lipstick off of your lips and dabbing the mascara excess under your eyes.
“I think we missed our dinner reservation by the way,” You joke, a chuckle leaving your lips as you grab your phone to check the time. You did miss it. “Sorry.”
“That’s a shame,” Matt says, his voice dipping low. “I’m still hungry.”
You feel a little guilty, “We can go get takeout—”
“No. Not for that,” Matt immediately shakes his head and you turn to look at him. “I’m hungry for something else. Something better.”
“Better?” You repeat, raising your eyebrow suggestively as you lean back into your seat, crossing your arms over your chest as the corner of your lips threaten to curl up into a smirk. “And what would that be?”
“You.”
Tumblr media
© sturnioz
799 notes · View notes
lavender-devotion · 13 hours
Text
Gambling With Souls (Alastor x GN!Reader)
Summary: You made a deal with Husk a long time ago, and ended up paying a lot more than you bargained for. Now you worked in one of his casinos, waiting on him and the people he gambled with hand and foot. One day Husk is challenged to a game by another Overlord, one with red eyes and a sharp ever-present smile…and, despite everything, you can’t help but feel drawn to him. What happens when the two of them start gambling with souls…and yours is thrown into the betting pool? Disclaimer: Husk is going to act pretty different than he does in the show and, yes, he's not going to be very nice to you---this is not me demonizing him. He's an Overlord, he's gonna act like one.
Tags: Alastor x GN!Reader, No Use of (Y/N), I only know Texas Hold ‘Em so that’s what we’re going with, One-sided Husk x GN!Reader (maybe, idk, it's up to your interpretation) TW: Abuse, Alcohol, Groping Word Count: 3.3k Read it on Ao3 <3
The moment you'd agreed to gamble with Husk, your life had ended.
You were a strong demon, not an Overlord---considering you hadn't owned any souls---but still not someone to mess with. Still, it was an incredibly stupid idea to gamble with an Overlord like him, especially since he was known for his proficiency in such things. You didn't remember what exactly had possessed you to think you could possibly win, but it didn't really matter now, did it?
He'd challenged you, and you had accepted.
You lost.
And now your soul was his to do with as he pleased.
Of all the demons who owned souls, Husk was considered by far the worst. He was a gambler and a drunk. He won hands, yes, but he also lost them---and it wasn't exactly uncommon for him to bet the souls he owned in lieu of money. Especially against other Overlords.
You could be working for him in one of his casinos as a dealer and in the span of one hand you were suddenly being dragged to the Vee district and forced to work as a porn star for Valentino, subject to his abuse and the abuse of your "co-stars," only to see your pain broadcasted across Hell to get people off.
Or to the Carmine district to work in a factory, building weapons that would probably kill you one day and dealing with the effects of the toxic gas and physical labor, slowly decaying over time.
Or to the district owned by Zestial...no one knew what happened to the souls he owned, and you sure as hell didn't want to find out.
Oddly enough, though, Husk seemed to take a liking to you. He always had you work at his personal gambling table---serving drinks, food, or rigging the game in his favor when he was in particularly deep shit and didn't want to lose.
And he never bet your soul.
Ever.
Sometimes he would bet you doing certain...activities, sometimes he would bet your time, sometimes he would bet a kiss, but never your soul.
Sometimes you were grateful for it, for the security it brought and the routine---you were rarely ever caught off guard when it came to Husk. Grateful for the knowledge that, hey, at least you would never be traded off to someone worse.
Other times, however, you hated it. Hated that he treated you like his prized show pony, hated that he was willing to pass you around but never loosen the chain on your neck, hated the fact that there was no escape...
...at least, there was no escape, until Husk gambled with him.
----------
It was never a good thing when Husk called you over to his table, so when one of the girls you worked with waved you down and directed you over to him---right before the end of your shift, I might add---you were...less than thrilled, let's say.
It had already been a hard enough day. It was like every jackass in Hell had decided to all get assigned to your tables at once---being loud and unruly, smacking your ass, spilling drinks, causing trouble---and, of course, none of your coworkers were any help. Your feet were killing you from all of the moving around, a customer had spilled a drink on you so now your uniform was more uncomfortable than usual, and you could definitely feel a migraine coming on.
The last thing you wanted to do was stay however many hours past your scheduled time just to plaster on a fake smile and be Husk's plaything. All you wanted was to go home and go to sleep, but the universe apparently hated you.
Fuck your life.
As you approached Husk's table, your attention was immediately drawn to the man sitting across from him. He was noticeably taller than Husk, even without the antlers atop his head---joined by a pair of red and black ears that matched the rest of his hair. He was dressed in a red suit and tailcoat that seemed to be 1930's in style, and a staff in the shape of a vintage microphone rested right next to him.
What was most eye-catching about him, though, was his smile.
Husk was an irritating man, that's just what he was like. He was arrogant without the sense to hide it, too certain of his own success every time he played a game, a hefty shit talker, usually drunk, and irritable and rude when he wasn't. Half of your job was often playing nice to soothe his opponents, trying to keep him out of trouble. Like I said, he was an irritating man.
And yet, even though it was obvious that Husk was getting on this man's last nerve, his smile never faltered. It was...unsettling, to say the least. Oddly enough, though, you found your interest in the man piquing---he didn't look like the type to gamble, after all, so what was he doing here?
As soon as you made it to the table, you plastered on a smile of your own and greeted them, mentally preparing yourself so that you didn't try to throttle one or both of them.
"Hello gentleman," you said, voice falsely bright and cheerful, "will I be dealing for you today or grabbing some drinks?"
Husk turned to you, grinning cockily and...oddly not drunk. Not sober, of course, but clearly more sober than you'd ever seen him before.
"Dealin' for us today, sweetheart," he said, smooth and low---almost flirty. You mentally shuddered.
Despite your distaste, you nodded and made your way to the middle of the table, going ahead and opening a fresh deck of cards before shuffling them---waiting for Husk to tell you which game they were going to play, and therefore what you'd be dealing out.
He turned to his opponent, "now, what game 're we playin'?"
"Your choice," the man replied, his voice overlaid by sharp radio static.
Husk laughed, and part of you wondered if this stranger had a death wish. Didn't he know who Husk was? Didn't he know what a terrible idea it was to give him, not only the advantage of playing in one of his casinos and choosing the dealer, but also the advantage of choosing the game?
What was he playing at?
Never one to pass up an opportunity to gain the upper hand, Husk---grinning---told you the game he wanted to play, and you began dealing out the cards. Quickly, the stranger recognized it.
"Ah, Texas Hold Em', hm?" He hummed, static crackling slightly in an almost-laugh, "a classic! What made you choose such a game?"
"I just figured a basic game like this would be easy enough for you to keep up with," Husk replied, the little insult sliding smoothly off his tongue. The stranger's eyes narrowed and you cringed, mentally praying to whatever god would listen that he wouldn't take his anger at Husk out on you, as was all too common among the characters he gambled with. Thankfully, his eyes never left Husk and he made no move to harm you as you set up the game, now divvying up the chips between them.
Just before you were about to start the game, however, Husk held up a hand to stop you---a dangerous glint in his eyes that made you shudder.
"Why don't we make this game a little more interesting," he said, and you could already guess what he was about to suggest.
The stranger's head tilted ever-so slightly, "what did you have in mind?"
"Why don't we gamble with something a little more valuable than money...something like the souls we own."
The stranger's smile widened imperceptibly, and you got the uncanny feeling that this is what he'd wanted in the first place. Not Husk's money, but the souls in his possession.
'Perhaps Husk's soul as well,' something in your mind whispered, but you brushed it off. Husk never gambled his soul either, so there's no way that would happen---even if that was what the stranger was there for.
Once the stranger voiced his agreement, Husk snapped his fingers and his chips radiated with a silver glow, each chip being branded with a mark that symbolized exactly whose soul was being bet. His soul was branded on a Black chip, the most expensive piece---ever present, even if he'd never bet it. Yours was a Red, the second most expensive.
He gestured to the stranger, signaling that it was his turn. The stranger followed suit and snapped his fingers, this time a bright green enveloping the chips in front of him---starkly contrasting to the rest of his appearance. His chips were now branded with their own marks as well. A Black chip with green details was branded with a bright red 'A,' and you could only assume that was his own soul.
After it was clear that the two were ready, you flipped the first three cards, and the game began.
----------
At first, things almost seemed normal, once the game had started.
You dealt the hands, split the chips in the betting pool, and watched as the two Overlords went back and forth with the flow of the game. Occasionally another one of Husk’s employees would come over and serve them drinks, but other than that none of it caught your attention.
Well, one thing caught your attention.
The stranger’s shadow.
It seemed to dance around with a mind of its own, never losing its smile, just like the stranger himself. The shadow sometimes messed with the chips on the stranger’s side of the board, sometimes it played with the ice in the empty glasses on the table, but most of the time it seemed almost…fascinated by you.
It messed with your hair, helped you shuffle and collect the cards, tugged playfully at the edges of your uniform, and simply stuck by your side most of the time. It was a nice change from the attention you were used to dealing with from customers, or from Husk himself.
The way people would scream at you when they were angry, the wandering hands that would grope or hit or grab, the catcalls and lustful threats, the glasses of alcohol that people would throw at you…this was nothing like any of that. You liked it, it made you feel…precious, in a way. Valued. Cared for, oddly enough.
The stranger seemed amused by the antics, occasionally raising an eyebrow at his shadow only to receive an innocent shrug in response.
Husk, on the other hand, was not so amused.
“Get control of your fuckin’ shadow,” Husk snapped at the stranger as it tugged gently on a piece of your hair, drawing a small smile from you. One that immediately disappeared as you heard Husk’s voice.
“Now now,” the stranger chastised, seeming even more amused at Husk’s irritation, “it’s only having a little fun, no need to lose your temper.”
Husk muttered something under his breath, no doubt some string of insults, but still, he dropped the subject. You tried not to pay any more attention to the shadow after that, not wanting Husk to get angry at you as well.
Husk didn’t seem to notice…but the stranger did.
“Husker, you have quite the specimen working for you here," he said, radio static curling around his voice in an almost...flirtatious(?) purr as he turned to look at you, "what's your name, my dear?"
You flushed slightly before giving him your name, asking his in return. After all, you'd prefer to stop thinking of him as "the stranger."
He repeated your name slowly, sounding out each syllable, before responding, "Alastor, it's a pleasure to meet-"
"Your turn," Husk interrupted, voice grating, and the stranger- Alastor's gaze snapped to him, lip curling even as his smile stretched.
"Of course," he replied, irritation clear in his tone, "pets have such short attention spans, wouldn't want you getting distracted from our game, now would we?"
"The only one getting distracted here is you."
Alastor only hummed in response, raising the bet as he did so.
You glanced between the two, the tension between them palpable, and you were more than a little worried that a fight might break out---but, thankfully, neither made a move towards the other. They just sat there, glaring.
You cleared your throat, trying to dispel some of the animosity, "raise or call?"
Husk pushed a stack of chips forward, "raise."
----------
This is how the game went, back and forth.
Husk winning some hands, and Alastor winning some in return---almost like a dance, a game.
You watched, enthralled, as the two continued on...and as Husk slowly, surely, lost more and more souls. Usually, when it was clear that one of the players were going to lose, they would call the game off---cut their losses and stop before things got any worse.
But, for whatever reason, Husk refused to do just that. In fact, the more hands Husk lost, the more determined he seemed to keep playing---to the point where, if you didn't know him well, you'd think he was gambling under the influence. It was...surprising, to say the least, and by the time Husk seemed to realize how deep of a hole he'd dug himself into, it was too late. His only choice was to keep playing and hope his luck turned around.
He had no reason to be worried, though, and he knew that.
All because he had you.
You see, there was a reason why Husk always had you serving his table. It was because of your power, what you could do for him during these games.
It was hard to pinpoint exactly what your power was, since it manifested differently depending on what you used it to do, but---in simple terms---it was almost like you had control over reality. A small part of it, at least. You could control things...well, under your control. Your appearance, the clothes you wore, anything you made, or---in this case---any game you dealt for.
There weren't any rules against the dealer controlling the game. Husk made certain of it. There was even a clause in the fine print of every contract people signed to play with him, one that gave you full permission to do as you pleased during the game, as long as you were the dealer.
So, sooner or later, Husk would give you the signal to turn things in his favor and you would do as you were told.
...
Well, apparently, it was sooner.
Husk gave you the signal, and you sunk into the familiar warmth of your power---subtly seizing control of the game. You knew the cards in Husk's hands and in Alastor's, as well as all the cards on the board.
Alastor would have two pair, Husk would have one.
Your fingers twitched slightly and the unflipped cards changed, giving Husk three of a kind and Alastor one pair.
Husk won that round.
Safe to say, Husk started to get "spontaneously" lucky, and get some of his souls---his power---back. Alastor, surprisingly, didn't seem at all bothered or shocked by this. If anything, he seemed completely relaxed, as if he wasn't losing hundreds of souls with every hand. It unsettled you, and it definitely seemed to unsettle Husk---even though he tried his best to hide it.
Eventually, though, just as you thought that---surely---Alastor had had enough and was about to call the game off, he said something that stopped you in your tracks.
"All in."
Your power faltered for a moment as you stared at him, eyes wide, and you lost all knowledge of what was on the board. Husk was staring too, mouth hanging open, before a surprised laugh slipped from his mouth.
"You're kiddin', there's no way you-"
Once again, Alastor simply said, "all in."
Sliding his soul chip forward. Smile ever-present.
You glanced at Husk, silently wondering what he was going to do. Even with you controlling the game, he'd still never gambled his soul. Whether that was because he didn't trust that you'd let him win or because he didn't want to take the risk of your power failing, you didn't know, but still...he never bet it.
You raised an eyebrow, waiting for his answer, and, after a moment, Husk shook his head in disbelief...before calling Alastor's bet. A first for him, and for you. You took a deep breath and took control of the game again, ready to change the cards, before Alastor---once again---stopped you in your tracks.
"Is this what you want?" He asked, and you froze.
"...what?"
"Is this what you want?" He repeated, sounding genuinely curious, "to spend the rest of your afterlife working here, for this man? Letting him bet your body, your choices, letting him control your free will?"
You blinked. Surprised.
No one had ever asked you what you wanted before.
"I don't..." you trailed off, unsure of exactly what to say to that. Unsure of how to answer the question.
Husk glared at him, the topic of conversation clearly hitting a nerve, "why don't you shut the fuck up and mind your own business you-"
"You don't have to, my dear," Alastor continued, cutting Husk off, "you do have a choice, you know. You could choose to help me, instead of him, or to let fate take its hold."
It hit you then that Alastor knew that Husk was cheating, that he knew you were helping him. And still, he played the game...still, he treated you with kindness and respect.
He was right, though, you did have a choice. The contract of the game specified that you could do whatever you wanted with your control of the game, so long as you were the dealer and not one of the players.
If you wanted, you could make Husk lose.
You could force him into the same position that he'd forced you into.
You could break free from his grip.
Husk growled your name and your gaze snapped toward him. It was a warning, a threat. He owned your soul, he could do whatever he pleased with it, so you better listen to him.
Alastor said your name softly, drawing your attention back to him. A careful reminder. You still had a choice in this, Husk couldn't make you do anything right now. You could always choose not to help him, to help Alastor instead. All for the chance at a better life.
You took a deep breath and closed your eyes...
...
...before letting go of all control of the game.
Whatever happened now, it was up to the cards. Not you.
Husk slammed his hands down on the table, making you jump back as piles of chips tumbled to the floor, but before you could get farther away, he lunged at you and grabbed your throat---seething with rage.
"YOU FUCKIN' BITCH, HOW DARE YOU-"
Before he could finish his sentence, or cause you any harm, a green chain suddenly formed around his neck and pulled him back---making him fall to the ground. Your gaze snapped up, only to find Alastor at the other end of the chain---his shadow laughing behind him, grin wide. From there you glanced at the table, only to find-
Alastor had a Royal Flush...
...and Husk had nothing.
You glanced back at Husk and then, again, at Alastor---the reality of everything slowly setting in. Your soul no longer belonged to Husk, even if you were still tied to another Overlord. Now, though, Husk had fallen from his ivory tower.
Now he was just like you.
You couldn't help the hysterical laughter that bubbled up from your chest, a weight you hadn't even known was there suddenly disappearing. It was over. It was all over.
"I guess the house always wins," you managed to get out through your laughter, unable to contain the bright smile that took over your face. You were free of him. You were free of him.
"Indeed, my dear," Alastor replied, chuckling at your little joke, "I can already tell, you and I are going to get along just fine."
You would never admit it, but you thought so too.
209 notes · View notes
vipetas · 23 hours
Text
Hide and Seek
Tumblr media
Heart racing, you gently eased the closet door shut, nestling yourself deeper inside of it. With a hand pressed over your mouth to stifle your breaths, you strained to hear any approaching footsteps.
Silence enveloped the room, and you allowed yourself to breathe a soft sigh of relief. This was a good hiding spot, you thought to yourself. Surely, he’ll never find–
“Oh, darling! Where are you?”
Your hand instinctively shot back to cover your mouth. Shit, how did he know to look for you in this room?
You held your breath, listening intently. Before long, you heard it: the slow, deliberate approach of footsteps. Each one seemed to echo the pounding of your heart as you braced yourself for the closet doors to be flung open.
Yet, it never happened. Instead, three soft knocks on the closet's doors signaled his presence on the other side. You pressed farther back into the closet, trying desperately to remain unnoticed, but it was too late.
“There you are!” Alastor's voice rang out as he swung open both doors. As light flooded into the cramped space, you met his gaze, a mix of annoyance and amusement crossing your features
“Alastor!” you scolded in a hushed tone, careful not to attract further attention. “You cheater, how did you find me?”
With a chuckle, the Radio Demon grinned wider as he leaned against the door frame.
“Why, darling, I simply followed the sound of your beating heart. It led me right to you. Quite the delightful melody, if I do say so myself.”
You couldn't help but roll your eyes at him, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed any irritation you might've felt. “Alright, Romeo, fair enough,” you quipped as you stood up, brushing off your clothes.
Alastor responded with a playful wink, extending his hand towards you as an offer to help you out of the closet. You accepted, feeling a subtle thrill course through you as your fingers intertwined. It was a sensation that had become familiar, one that never failed to stir something within you. Just as you were about to comment on it, the moment was abruptly cut short by the sound of approaching footsteps.
In an instant, Alastor swiftly pushed you back into the closet, joining you inside before you could even react.
The confined space of the closet felt even smaller with both of you squeezed inside, pressed close together to accommodate for the lack of room. In the dim light, your gaze met Alastor's, and he placed a finger to his lips, motioning for you to remain quiet. You nodded, your heart fluttering ever so slightly not just from the fear of being discovered but also from his proximity.
Still, you waited, holding your breath. Each second seemed to stretch into eternity, but after a moment, you heard someone gingerly enter the room. It wasn't unexpected, but what caught you off guard was the sudden voice that shattered the stillness.
“Hello? Is anyone in here?” Charlie called out, her tone carrying a playful curiosity.
Alastor, ever perceptive, sensed the gasp rising in your throat. With a swift movement, his hands slid to your sides, pulling you even closer to him. His lips hovered just inches away from yours, barely brushing against them as he whispered, “Stay calm, my dear.”
For a moment, you forgot about the game, about the risk of being caught. As Charlie's voice lingered in the air, Alastor's grip on you tightened subtly, sending a delightful cascade of shivers down your spine. The way he held your gaze was both unnerving and intoxicating, and you felt yourself melting as his fingers began tracing the curve of your sides, leaving a tingling warmth in their wake.
In turn, your own hands sought solace in the fabric of his suit, fingers curling around the material. As you leaned into his embrace, you purposefully brushed your lips against his again in an almost kiss, and a low, deep hum rumbled from within Alastor’s chest.
You could feel his frustration, palpable even with the scant distance separating you. It was a gap neither of you could ensure for a moment longer.
But reality came crashing back down as Charlie’s voice pierced through the silence again.
“Hello! I know somebody’s in here!” She said, her presence looming larger as she continued to search the room. Her movements became increasingly frantic as she searched behind curtains and under the bed, leaving you with the unsettling certainty that the closet would be her next target.
Glancing back at Alastor, you were somewhat surprised to find his gaze still fixed solely on you, seemingly unconcerned with Charlie's search outside. His hands suddenly left your sides, and you found yourself missing his touch. But before you could dwell on the absence for long, they found a new resting place, cradling the back of your head with a possessiveness that both startled and thrilled you.
Without warning, he closed the gap between you, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that bordered on primal. It was a stark departure from his usual gentleness, leaving you momentarily bewildered by the sudden intensity. Yet as the kiss deepened, any thoughts of protest were quickly swept away by the overwhelming heat rising between you.
Eagerly, you opened your mouth for him, craving the sensation of his claim, and claim you he did. Pulling your hair back as if he couldn’t get close enough, his tongue brushed against yours, sending waves of pleasure that shot through your veins, setting every nerve ablaze with desire. Lost in the dizzying sensation, your body acted on its own accord as it arched into his touch, your bodies melding together seamlessly. Each curve and contour fit together perfectly, as if they were two halves of the same whole.
As the moment's intensity threatened to peak, you suddenly heard the soft creak of the outside door opening. Your heart lurched in your chest, and you instinctively pulled away from Alastor, eyes wide as you fixated on the crack of the closet door, where a sliver of light seeped through.
Alastor, however, remained unperturbed. His lips trailed kisses across your jaw, his hands returning to your sides with a firm grip that pooled your insides with warmth. Despite the interruption, you found yourself melting into his touch, your arms wrapping around his neck as you surrendered to his desires, even as a part of your mind remained on high alert.
“Hey, did you find anyone?” Vaggie’s voice rang out.
The sound of her footsteps drew closer, accompanied by Charlie's response. “No luck yet, Vaggie. But I'm sure they're hiding somewhere around here.”
“Did you check the closet?”
The innocent question sliced through the air like a blade, catching you off guard. Every fiber of your being urged you to break away from Alastor, to regain control of the situation before it spiraled further out of hand. But as you struggled to gather your thoughts, Alastor's lips crashed against yours once more, effectively drowning out your protests.
“Alastor,” you whispered urgently against his mouth, your attempts to push him away met with stubborn resistance. Despite your efforts, he remained as sturdy as a brick wall, his fervent kiss consuming you with an intensity that left you powerless to resist.
“I didn’t!” Charlie gasped, and in the next instant, the unmistakable sound of their approach shattered any remaining pleasure you felt. Desperation flooded through you as you attempted to push Alastor away once more, but he only seemed to draw impossibly nearer, enveloping you in an almost suffocating embrace as his tongue boldly invited itself into your mouth.
This is it, you thought. You’d never hear the end of being caught in such an embarrassing situation. You could already feel heat rushing to your cheeks as you struggled between surrendering to Alastor’s intoxicating taste and preserving your dignity.
Bracing yourself for the inevitable, you tightly shut your eyes.
However, embarrassment never came. Instead, you felt a sudden shift, like being caught in a whirlwind of energy. Colors blurred and twisted around you, and for a fleeting moment, it felt as if your very essence was being pulled apart at the seams. Then, just as suddenly as it began, the sensation ceased, and you found yourself standing in Alastor’s radio tower, his hands still resting upon you.
“You're such a cheater!” You playfully scolded, giving his shoulder a gentle nudge with your hand.
“Cheater? Me?” Alastor replied with mock innocence, his grin widening as he shrugged nonchalantly. “I merely... bent the rules to my advantage.”
With a shake of your head, you chuckled softly, finding it impossible to stay upset with him for too long. “Well, you certainly have a knack for bending them,” you commented with a smile.
“Would you prefer that I bend you?”
Alastor's remark sent your heart racing, your cheeks warming at the implication. Emboldened by the rush of adrenaline, you closed the distance between you, your fingertips lightly grazing his cheeks as you brought your lips tantalizingly close to his.
“Maybe I would,” you replied, the words barely a whisper. Alastor chuckled softly, his breath warm against your skin as his hand slipped to the small of your back.
“Well then, my dear,” he murmured, his voice a low, seductive whisper. “Let's see just how much you can handle.”
345 notes · View notes
xcherryerim · 1 day
Text
Strange Fascination
Part One: A Mocha With A side Of Your Sight
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Stalker!Mike x gn!reader
“Every morning, in front of you at last, I stand again, as if I'm enchanted. I'm still half-awake, the haziness guiding me towards you.” — Iced Coffee by Red velvet
Tumblr media
This story will lead to smut (not this part but the second) If you’re not up for that, do not read this!
Warning: obsession/ stalking | mentions of over-usage (with sleeping pills but yk) | Breaking in readers house
Notes: This part is meant to describe Mike’s fascination on reader and how he ends up breaking into reader’s house so, this part mainly focuses on Mike along side Abby. Part two will focus mainly on reader. (also this was revised like 3 times so, yk not that perfect)
Summary: After not seeing you at school to pick up your brother, his mind is flooded with worry. In an excuse to hangout with his sister, Mike drove near your place, observing your every move through the cafe window.
Tumblr media
Mike tends to obsess easily. Whether it's with re-living the events of his lost brother, collecting nostalgic artifacts, or reading a stack load of psychology books. It’s an innocent hobby and it’s not harming anyone, but lately, he started to be captivated by a new subject.
Four months have passed since Abby began attending middle school, but Mike can still vividly recall the very first moment he laid eyes on you. That fateful day remains etched in his memory, as though it happened just yesterday.
Despite the mounting stress surrounding his impending court case against his Aunt, Mike attempted to maintain a composed demeanor for Abby's sake. She was embarking on a significant transition, moving from her familiar surroundings to a larger and more complex educational environment.
As he patiently awaited Abby’s emergence from the classroom, his nerves were further tested when a stranger appeared and positioned themselves near him, close enough for the musky Vanilla scent to reach his nose.
Under normal circumstances, Mike would shy away from making eye contact with strangers, unless he had a specific reason to engage with them. However, on this particular day, he found himself inexplicably drawn to look up, and there you are, standing before him. In his eyes, you appeared as a divine being, an angel who had descended from the heavens, sent to watch over him and him alone.
Your presence sent a shiver down his spine, heightening his nervous energy while simultaneously eliciting a sense of comfort and security.
Though Mike remained silent, his eyes meticulously took in every detail of your visage, committing your likeness to memory. His behavior was not intended to be unsettling; rather, it stemmed from an innate need to capture your image in his mind.
Suddenly, you broke the silence with a timid "Hi," which caught him off guard. Taken aback, Mike responded with a soft, "Hello, you."
While seeing you for mere moments each weekday may seem like a fleeting encounter, Mike's keen observation skills allowed him to make the most of these brief instances. He meticulously studied your routine, scrutinizing the subtle variations in the timing of your arrival to collect your brother.
On Mondays and Thursdays, you could be found arriving precisely at 3:20, while Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Fridays offered slightly longer windows, ranging from 3:30 to 3:46.
Through diligent study and careful attention, Mike managed to piece together a comprehensive understanding of your schedule, ensuring that he wouldn't miss a single opportunity to catch a glimpse of you.
In addition to monitoring your schedule, Mike began to decode the nuances of your moods based on your daily attire. Although you generally stuck to the same color scheme, he discerned subtle differences that hinted at your emotional state.
For instance, a particular long-sleeve shirt signaled haste, while an oversized graphic tee indicated fatigue. Even minor alterations to your hairstyle served as clues to your mental landscape. Over time, Mike committed countless details to memory, even going so far as to surreptitiously follow your vehicle to ascertain your home address.
However, despite these extensive efforts at understanding and learning about you, the interactions remained limited to brief greetings - a tantalizing taste of connection amidst the vast sea of unspoken longing.
On this particular Wednesday, chaos reigned as students spilled from the classroom, jostling one another in their rush to leave. Amidst the pandemonium, Abby found herself standing beside Mike, sensing the turmoil in his gaze.
Intrigued, she queried, "Why are we still here?" Her question snapped him back to the present, and he stammered, struggling to formulate a coherent thought.
Remembering the purpose of their wait, he asked, "Um, Abbs, did your classmate... was it Gregory? Did he come to school today?"
Abby couldn't help but furrow her brow, wondering if Mike's preoccupation was related to you. "No," she replied briefly before leading the way, prompting him to follow reluctantly.
Attempting to shift gears, he inquired about the solar system project Mike helped her with.
"So, how did your presentation go? Did you score a hundred?"
Abby sighed, clarifying, "The science teacher never gives hundreds, but I managed to snag a ninety-seven."
“That’s still pretty good, Abbs. Don’t worry.” He smiled.
Mike struggled to suppress his desire to visit your residence, the concern for your well-being clouding his judgment. His anxiety threatened to derail his focus on the road, nearly resulting in a collision and earning him seven irate honks from fellow drivers.
Abby wondered if her mental prayers on the road helped them get home safely. She was now standing in front of the kitchen table, as his brother, still with his anxious look served her spaghetti. As she polished off her meal, she observed Mike's restless hands continuously picking at his uneaten food.
Unsure whether to approach him about his obvious distress, she hesitated, suspecting that he might dismiss her concerns. Enveloped by the deafening silence, she contemplated retreating to her room or remaining to offer support. Ultimately, it was Mike who broke the quiet standoff, tentatively proposing, "Do you want to go for a walk?"
This unexpected invitation perplexed her; sibling bonds between the two had predominantly revolved around shared chores, academic assistance from Mike, and marathon sessions of cheesy films.
However, the unfamiliarity of a walk piqued Abby’s interest. Sensing hidden intentions, she inquired, "Why?"
Mike attempted to deflect his sister's probing gaze, replying casually, "Just feel like getting some fresh air."
With that, he grabbed his keys and confidently declared, "I know a great spot."
Mike navigated his vehicle to a parking spot near the park, consciously avoiding your location to not seem suspicious. As they walked, Mike maintained a brisk pace, pushing Abby to her limits as she struggled to keep up.
After a few exhausting minutes, the excuse he needed to invite Abby to the coffee shop on your street appeared.
"Oh, you're tired?" he feigned innocence, wiping imaginary sweat from his brow. "I think I recall seeing a coffee shop nearby."
Upon reaching the coffee shop, the once-unfamiliar street suddenly held an uncanny familiarity for Abby. Though she couldn't comprehend the reasoning behind this sensation, she was relieved to see a genuine grin spread across Mike's face. While appreciative of his newfound composure, the peculiar nature of his smile continued to nag at her subconscious. Little did she know, her apprehension foreshadowed the depth of his new fixation.
Mike's gaze roamed the coffee shop, absorbing the ambiance - the warm lighting, the rich scent of coffee beans, and the soothing fragrance of lavender. His imagination ran wild, conjuring visions of an intimate date with you in this very locale.
He envisioned himself sitting across from you at a cozy café. As you brought the mug to your lips, he reached out gently, wiping away a stray dollop from your mouth. Your eyes met his, filled with warmth and understanding.
In this fantasy, he leaned in, lips meeting softly in a tender kiss. His fingers traced the softness of your cheek, feeling the warmth beneath his touch. The taste of espresso mingled with the sweetness of your lips, a unique blend that only you could create. In this dream reality, there was no fear, no anxiety, just two people finding comfort in each other's presence.
“What would you like to order?” The Barista on the register repeated.
Startled from his reverie, Mike hastily blurted out his order, "A latte and a mocha, both small!"
Aware of his volume, he flushed with embarrassment, but his impassioned state rendered him indifferent to etiquette. Paying for the drinks without delay, he claimed a seat by the window facing your house, his heart pounding with anticipation.
Despite the glaring sunlight and the parade of cars obscuring his view, Mike strained his eyes to catch sight of you through the window. Your shadowy outline offered solace, indicating that you were safe and sound. In contrast, your brother Gregory appeared increasingly agitated, doodling with shaky hands.
Concerned, you checked on him intermittently, hoping to ease his discomfort.
Your house consumed Mike's attention, leaving him oblivious to the arrival of the drinks. Abby stepped in to retrieve their coffees, presenting Mike with a gentle nudge back to reality.
"How's yours?" she inquired, attempting to break his trance. Snapped out of his daydream, Mike took a sip and confirmed, "Yeah, it's good." Almost immediately, his gaze returned to the reflection of your house in the mirror.
Fixated on your home, Mike caught a glimpse of you speaking on the phone, setting off a barrage of questions in his mind. Who were you speaking to? Was there someone else in your life? Dismissing the thought of a secret partner, he rationalized that he would have detected indicators of such-jewelry, perhaps a ring. Unless…
"You seem to like that house," Abby observed, taking a sip of her latte.
“I like the design. You know I wanted to be a—“
"Contractor," Abby concluded, and Mike nodded vigorously. His fascination with architecture was well-known, but the true extent of his infatuation remained shrouded in mystery.
"Hopefully, you'll get to live in a beautiful home someday, Abby," Mike responded earnestly, his stare fixed on the distant house. While not prone to overt displays of emotion, his wishes for her happiness emanated sincerely. He genuinely cherishes his sister.
"I hope you do too," Abby whispered, her tone laced with warmth. Pondering whether this excursion sprang from simple brotherly camaraderie rather than anything sinister, she allowed herself a flicker of optimism.
Though his gaze remained trained on your place, the tenderness in Abby's voice elicited a faint smile from Mike.
"Let's get a better look," she proposed, rising from her seat.
Inside, Mike wrestled with uncertainty, questioning the wisdom of their actions. Nonetheless, the need to observe you closely trumped his reservations, justifying this intrusion into your privacy.
“I like how you think.” He replied, following his sister out of the coffee shop.
Fortuitously, the absence of traffic allowed Mike to traverse the street without incident, his impulsive stride mirroring a moth drawn to a flickering flame. Unaware of the potential danger, he followed you with unwavering determination, guided by an insatiable curiosity.
While Abby visualized herself residing in such a picturesque abode, lost in dreams of interior decor, Mike scrutinized the property, seeking vulnerabilities. Numerous avenues of entry loomed ominously, igniting a protective instinct within him. The last thing Mike wanted was for a total stranger to be near your house.
Fixated on identifying threats, Mike scanned the landscape from left to right. His focus alighted upon a window, likely your room, taunting him with easy access. Steeling himself against temptation, he decided to not to cross that line- at least, for now.
The sudden noise of crunchy leaves being stomped upon immediately made Mike walk away from the property as he forced Abby out of there, yet his eyes analyzed the new stranger, walking cluelessly at your house with a box of Pizza at hand.
Relief washed over Mike as his insecurities dissolved, only to be supplanted by irritation at the presumed flirtatiousness of the pizza delivery boy. Perhaps he was overreacting, yet his protective instincts screamed for confrontation, longing to rain down retribution upon the perceived transgressor.
Yet, Mike resisted allowing his fury to dictate his actions. With a renewed sense of purpose, he hastily departed from the scene. Your safety brought him solace, but your home's vulnerability haunted him.
As the clock struck 10:30 pm, Mike found himself unable to sleep, despite having ingested more than the recommended dose of his sleeping pills. Typically, these medications ensured a swift descent into slumber, but tonight, they failed to deliver their usual sedative effect.
Despite the meticulously arranged bedding, the soft hum of nature sounds, and the impeccably positioned Nebraska poster, Mike's restlessness persisted. Could it be that thoughts of you encroached upon his subconscious? Unsure of how to quell his turbulent emotions, he lay awake, grappling with his feelings.
At 11:16 am, the silence of the night echoed through. In this deserted hour, as others slumbered, Mike contemplated a surreptitious visit. Perhaps, under the cloak of darkness, he could safeguard your sanctuary from unseen threats.
Wrapping himself in a mantle of darkness, Mike donned a black cap, hoodie, and athletic bottoms - attire atypical for him. Mike did this to devise an alibi. if someone sees him making sure you're safe (which he knows in the sight of strangers it might look weird) he can just say he was exercising. Perfect solution.
Mike walked on his tippy toes, making sure to make no noise, as he grabbed his keys and made sure the house was locked tightly. Locks secure, keys in hand, he commenced the engine.
Despite the pill-induced haze clouding his senses, his concentration sharpened as he navigated deserted streets, only semi-trailers punctuating his journey. Finally arriving at your residence, he prepared to watch over you from the shadows.
The closer Mike got to you, the more his heart raced, pumping blood like a freight train against his ribcage. Every step he took brought forth a flurry of emotions - excitement mingled with anxiety, fear intertwined with anticipation. The fine line between obsession and love blurred in his mind, and it fueled him further into the unknown.
He stopped mere feet away from the window of your room. Peering through the glass pane, he could see the faint silhouette of you under the covers, sleeping peacefully. A wave of relief washed over him, replacing the earlier dread with a strange sense of satisfaction.
He watched you breathe rhythmically, your chest rising and falling gently with each breath. Despite the late hour, there was something comforting about seeing you safe and sound.
His fingers traced the cold surface of the glass, feeling its smooth texture against his palm. A mix of longing and protectiveness swelled within him, making his chest tighten. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed next to you, hold you close, and keep you safe from all harm. Yet, he knew better than to disturb your slumber. This was as close as he dared get.
Mike's heart pounded in his chest as the lights flickered on inside the house. His instincts kicked in, propelling him into the nearest hiding spot - a cluster of dense bushes. He pressed himself against the cool ground, hoping to remain unseen.
What could have caused you to switch on the lights so suddenly? Were you disturbed by something? Or did you have a nightmare?
In the glow of the moonlight, he could see you standing by the window, looking out into the night. Your posture seemed tense and your hoodie confirmed it.
There was an unmistakable air of distress around you, which resonated deeply with Mike's own experiences. Could it be possible that you were going through something similar?
A wave of empathy surged through Mike. He wanted nothing more than to comfort you, to offer you a shoulder to lean on, a warm embrace to banish your fears away. But he knew better than to intrude on your privacy. Instead, he stayed hidden, watching over you from the darkness, praying silently for your well-being.
As you emerged from the room, Mike hesitated briefly. His instincts screamed at him to hide, to disappear into the shadows before being discovered. But something within him rebelled, urging him forward. Before he could think twice, he was lifting the window sash, the squeaky hinge echoing in the silence of the night.
Once inside, he hurriedly shut the window, heart pounding wildly in his chest. He knew this was reckless, yet it felt necessary. As he scanned the slightly messy room, his eyes fell upon the forgotten spot beneath the bed - a haven of security amidst uncertainty. Without giving it a second thought, he squeezed himself underneath, his body brushing against discarded clothes and half-filled notebooks.
In this cramped space, he listened closely for any signs of detection. Sweat trickled down his forehead, mingling with the grit and dust from the floor. He felt exposed yet strangely protected, like a child playing hide and seek.
"Sorry," he whispered under his breath, hoping you would understand his intentions.
Mike was already anxious, the adrenaline of being in your room and the effects of the dosage made him a panicked mess.
The sound of you entering the room sent a ripple of dread through Mike. His heart pounded against his ribcage, beating out an erratic rhythm that threatened to give him away. Sweat dripped from his brow, pooling in the dimly lit corner where he lay concealed. His breath hitched in his throat, each gasp amplified in the quiet space.
When you moved closer to the bed, Mike held his breath, bracing for impact. But instead of anger or fear, a scream echoed through the room. Startled, he scrambled back, knocking into a pile of books that had somehow ended up under the bed. Papers rustled and pages fluttered, creating a symphony of noise that seemed deafening in the silent bedroom.
"I'm fucked," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
To be continued…
Tumblr media
Thank you so much for reading. Hope you will support this mini series! xoxo
74 notes · View notes
hopefulceladon · 2 days
Text
rest for the weary | kamisato ayato x reader
summary: kamisato ayato, though a man of many talents, hardly knew the meaning of the word ‘relax’. you, on the other hand, really wished he did. pairing: kamisato ayato x reader word count: 2.1k notes: happy ayato day!!! it's not much but at least it's something.
✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦
As twilight blanketed itself over the horizons that surrounded the confines of the Kamisato Estate, so, too, had the celebration held within the guarded walls of the property ceased.
It had hardly been a stuffy, bejeweled social gathering beheld in a decked-out estate like many of the commissioner’s birthdays of the past, no. It was a simplistic and warm gathering with his closest friends and family members, and felt much like an embrace. Much like a temporary safe haven away from life’s ceaseless trials. Much like how such an occasion ought to be commemorated.
There was, perhaps a part of you was afraid that the current party would be too dull for Ayato's tastes—your beloved was the clan head, after all, and he only deserved a party as sophisticated as his wide expanse of titles, didn't he?—but the small, genuine smile he wore the moment he saw you, Ayaka, and Thoma huddled around a small feast table had soon eased your concerns.
And, perhaps, at his reaction, something within you urged you to ponder if this was the kind of celebration he preferred after all.
But now that the humble festivities of the evening had concluded, and Ayato had excused himself away from the scene, it became ever apparent that his intention was to immediately throw himself back into the rhythm of what he deemed as normalcy, as if the very concept of relaxation was foreign to the well-versed commissioner.
And as you leaned against the doorframe of his study, you frowned at the familiar sight of your beloved sorting through his moderately cluttered desk, fervent in his search of the next stack of documents to work on, with his back slightly hunched and his shoulders tensed from the weariness that found an unwelcome home within his bones.
It took him a moment to recognize your presence, but his countenance had brightened once he finally met your gaze, as if your mere existence was much like a healing balm for his tired soul. Still, his brows quirked upright at the sight of you, as if his aforementioned healing balm had no reason to be standing before him at the hour that it was.
“Hm? My love, why are you not in bed yet?”
Even if the expression upon his face was courteous, you could still recognize the exhaustion that plagued him deep beneath his pretty violet eyes.
“I could ask you the same question, couldn't I?” you replied as you approached him and his desk, frowning further at the scattered leaflets that were splayed across its wooden surface. “Why are you working?”
“I’m simply catching up on the work I skipped earlier this afternoon. Another all-nighter is in the books, I suppose...”
His admission caught you off guard, and you stared at him, baffled.
“You were meant to relax today, weren't you? Something regarding, oh, goodness, I don’t know, your birthday?”
“Oh, please, you really need not remind me,” he began with a sigh. “Much as one would expect, the flow of my tasks and duties won’t simply put itself on hold just because its master happened to make it yet another cycle around the sun...”
“I understand, but you haven’t had a break in quite some time...”
Guilt had added a new splash of psychological color to accompany the fatigue that was already distinctly painted across his features, but his hands still remained ever busy with his paperwork.
“If the imminent needs of the clan cannot cease for one day, then neither shall I, I fear.”
His counterpoint was logical, you supposed, but his utter refusal to even consider himself at all caused your heart to ache. Though you knew far better than to engage in attempting to explain anything to someone so stubborn, much less someone whose job, more or less, was to debate and persuade others to agree with his stances, you persisted.
“You still can always just simply... attempt to rest?”
A brief flash of surprise flickered in his eyes at the abruptness of your response, but he simply hummed in response, waiting patiently for your explanation.
“One of your concerns is keeping your loved ones safe, isn’t it? But were we not all there, happily celebrating alongside you? Was it not lively with nearby retainers, all hoping to do something to serve you? Is that not proof that we're all safe and secure within the walls of the estate you oversee?”
“I... suppose, yes, but I fail to see how that's relevant to the argument against me dealing with late night paperwork?”
“It means that you succeeded in at least one of the goals that I know you must surely think of when you sit at this desk. And if you succeeded in that, then... shouldn't that be enough for you to put up the paperwork for at least tonight?”
“Mm. I do appreciate the insight, dear, but it's hardly ever that simple, and I’m sure you, of everyone, would know that to be so.”
Quickly, you realized your claim was losing its validity, but you, fortunately, were as persistent as he was.
“I know, but it should be enough to prove that the members of the clan aren't at risk of any sudden disaster...” your voice trailed off as you took a moment to reach for his free hand, gently grasping it in your own. “The world shall not end, nor shall the Kamisato Clan crash and burn to the ground, if you happen to take a night's respite, I think.”
At the sudden contact between your hand and Ayato’s, though his black leather glove blocked most of the sensation, he breathed in sharply. As a quick-thinking means to distract himself from whatever seemed to stir his troubled soul, he focused on readjusting his grip on the calligraphy pen that he held firmly between his other hand’s index finger and thumb.
“Hmph, tell that to the other commissioners, then, my love...”
“The other commissioners are not here to perceive nor judge your actions, my love ,” you replied, then paused to make a humorous production out of warily glancing around for ‘eavesdroppers’ before you whispered. “...nor do I quite care what they think, regardless. They're hardly the ones who must bear the weight of knowing the exhaustion you strive to conceal.”
Your honesty made Ayato chuckle, but your confession still caused his eyebrows to furrow.
“I cannot tell if it's from the charm of your words or from the weariness you claim I possess, but I suppose you're quite right,” he mused aloud before his eyes reclaimed their familiar, charming glimmer. “Though, I suppose if we wake up tomorrow to, say, a burnt down kitchen, I'll at least have someone to blame for lulling me into a false sense of security, hm?”
“Now, why would the kitchen burn down? You'd be absolutely nowhere near it.” you quickly retorted, unable to suppress the small giggle that snuck past the stoic front you had built and forged with concern.
Ayato let out a soft hum of amusement at your witty remark, tapping the stack of papers against his desk to even them out before laying them to rest. Moments later, he arose from his chair and drew you in closer with a gentle tug at your arms, the playful grin from moments prior still plastered on his face.
“Oh, has the silver melted off your tongue now that you believe you finally persuaded me?”
“Huh? It's hardly like that!” you protested.
You swore the cheeky bastard had smiled at the flash of panic in your eyes, before leaning down to briefly press his lips to your forehead.
“I know, dear, don't fret.”
Much like a switch had been suddenly flipped, the lighthearted atmosphere that lingered in the room allowed itself to be reformed into a far more serene state, aided by the ambience provided by both the steady raindrops that pattered against the shoji windows, and the flames that frolicked off of the wick of the burning candle that rested atop Ayato’s desk.
In response to his affectionate gesture, you took a step closer to wrap your arms around Ayato in return, reaching your one hand up to thread your fingers through his silky, pale blue hair, and leaving the other to rest against his cheek, all of which elicited a soft hum of contentment from Ayato’s lips.
“So, does this all really mean you’ll rest?”
“Oh dear... if that’s truly what you’ve concluded from this, I fear you’re sorely mistaken.” Ayato said as he leaned his cheek further into the palm of your hand, smiling at you tiredly.
You sighed at his response, feeling slightly disarmed by the charming sight he put on display.
“I’m sorry for being so persistent, it’s just that after all that you do for the clan, for... everyone, I just wish you'd consider yourself more often.”
“Ah, if I considered what I truly wanted more often, I fear we'd both be out of commission for at least a small while...”
As your face scrunched together in thought, your mind still too exhausted from the weight of your concern to decipher any potential meaning beneath his words, Ayato chuckled at the profound confusion his words had implanted within you, and he shook his head.
“Mm, nevermind that. Now, come here, dear.”
Without further notice, Ayato wrapped his lithe arms around you and enveloped you ever closer. The sudden force he used in pulling your body so abruptly flush to his own nearly caused you to stumble backwards, but quickly, he steadied you before you could make acquaintances with the floor by placing his palms against your hips.
At the sight of the surprise in your eyes, his hands immediately retreated out of fear he had breached any sort of boundary—oh , you had nearly asked him to put them back—and he simply let a hand idly rest upon the small of your back, holding you close to him as if you were made of a fragile glass that was all too eager to shatter.
“I really do hope you enjoyed today.” you murmured suddenly against the fabric of his lavender kimono, reaching your hand out so that it might rejoin with his, interlocking your fingers between the webbings of his own the very moment they reunited.
“As far as I'm aware, every day is enjoyable whenever I get to spend it with you.”
With your fondness growing ever intensified by the unspoken intimacy of the moment, your chest ached pleasantly at the tenderness that shone in his eyes as he lifted your intwined hands up to his lips, brushing them against the bumps of your knuckles ever so briefly.
Wordlessly, with an idea in mind to reciprocate, you reached behind yourself and gently pried his gloved hand away from your lower back.
While Ayato was deeply engrossed by your actions, at least enough to analyze your expressions with a curious gaze, he hadn't realized you had managed to cautiously slide his glove off his hand until the moment he felt your touch brush upon skin that he knew should've been covered by leather.
His breathing audibly faltered the moment your warm fingertips grazed against his surprisingly cold palm, unable to catch himself in time.
“My darling, I..." Ayato fought to speak coherently through a breathy whisper. Quickly, he cleared his throat and forced himself away from the tempting arms of the pleasant stupor your touch had thrown him into. “If this is the means you choose to convince me to relax, then... I suppose that we ought to retire to bed now, after all.”
“You mean your work can wait?”
“Perhaps it can, perhaps it cannot, but I must confess that at this very moment, any matters regarding paperwork are truly the furthest things from my mind...” Ayato admitted quietly, burying his forehead comfortably against the crossing that joined your neck and shoulder together.
“Then... what is on your mind?” you asked, still holding him close, still holding his freezing cold hand within your grasp. It really was hardly any wonder why he wore gloves all the time, it seemed.
“Merely the thought of being able to rest within the comfort of my beloved’s embrace for as long as the night shall allow us, if I’ll be so kindly permitted...”
As he lifted his head up from your shoulder, his gaze meeting yours, his weary eyes yearning for you to please at the very least answer his inquiry, you cracked a small smile at the rare sight of the vulnerability he usually kept under highly secured wraps.
“I think it would be my honor to kindly oblige.”
After all, only the heavens knew how strongly you longed for that, too.
43 notes · View notes
0o-mushroom-o0 · 2 days
Text
Pt 1 Child soldier!ASL AU -working title-
CONTINUING!! TW. TORTURE.
The boys hold out for as long as they can. They may be stubborn as all hell but they’re still kids. They plan and struggle and try anything they can think of until Ace and Sabo hit 17.
It’s too late. They’re 17 now. There’s no hope. Gramps, Shanks, DanDan.. none of them came. No one is coming to save them, they can’t escape. There’s no point in holding out for them anymore, they missed their chance. They broke their promise, they can no longer be pirates. They are constantly being watched, continuously monitored. Freedom. Is completely out of reach.
The only reason they don’t give up on living in general is for each-other, despite near all empathy being forced out of them the brothers are still fiercely protective of one another.
Sadly this is of course used against them. Every-time one brother acts out of line, another brother is threatened or harmed. Enforcing Obedience.
One incident occurred when the boys were around the age of 11-14, Ace’s anger had flared up and in a fit of rage he caught a doctor off guard and seriously injured them.
After being sedated Ace wakes to being strapped down in a chair in an observation room. Through the glass he sees Luffy get dragged into the operating room and tied down as well. A man enters the room and long story short Ace(1333) is forced to watch as Luffy(1415) is Tortured. As his punishment. But. Something goes wrong. The man goes too far. Luffy’s heart stops.
For a few minutes it’s nothing but panic. Ace can see nothing but the monitor attached to Luffy’s heart as the long tone resounds in the room. That’s his little brother. One of the only reasons he’s still going. … why isn’t he moving..? Help him.
SOMEONE HELP HIM.
They get his heart beating again. They keep luffy overnight to make sure he’ll be ok.
Ace is released back into their cell. For a few minutes Ace can do nothing but stare at the wall. Sabo is panicking, what’s going on? Where’s luffy? What happened? ACE ANSWER ME.
Ace flies into a rage. Screaming and thrashing at the bars of their cell. Cursing everyone at the facility out. Cursing their mothers their fathers and brothers. Promising retribution if his little brother isn’t returned back to him in one piece.
A snailspeaker informs him that if he doesn’t calm down Sabo (4544) will be next.
That gives him pause. Sabo is confused and scared and angry and every possible emotion possible.
Ace calms down enough to tell Sabo what happened. Similarly Sabo feels the urge to burn the world down for nearly taking his brother from him. But Sabo is smart. Sabo sees what happens when Ace rages. So he compressed his feelings and focus’s on calming Ace.
Tears of fear and anger stream down Ace’s face. He’s supposed to be the oldest. He’s supposed to protect his brothers. But. He. Keeps. Failing.
(This scene is to replace the bear scene in the anime)
After this the brothers become borderline obsessive about each-other. They have to stay within each others sight at all times possible. Growing irritable and prone to outbursts when too far separated.
Finally when deemed fit for deployment. They are sent on their first outside mission.
On Luffy’s 17th birthday.
This one got kinda dark huh. 😅 sorry about that but your gonna wanna get used to it <3 the more I love a character the more I hurt em <33 I will warn you now, it gets worse!
Please tell me if you enjoyed!! Thank you for reading!
@doesitlooklikeiknowwhatimdoing @veto-unable @pardon-my-scifi @thesneklordwithwings @nainaizen
16 notes · View notes
gio-cosmo · 1 month
Text
Guys was there a time in p3r where Kenji texts you and is like “hey cutie~ ❤️❤️” and uses a bunch of heart emojis or did I hallucinate that in a tired stupor
20 notes · View notes
ichthyorelationships · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media
ideas: i didn't really think of him being underwater but they deserve to have drama by crying there too so i just think you could say something about the composition being denser than water or w/e. proteins
i'm always like good thing he didn't try to exit asap via swimming in ciao alberto But What If He Did lol. just swim Somewhere else along the coast, maybe panic about [money??] & whether somehow this ruins school for luca, whether he can get in touch w/o it being On Sight b/w him & all marcovaldos, consider just kind of trying out other places, traveling after all...fascinating considering the other povs on the issue like: now there's the paguros to sympathize w/a kid vanishing, luca however in a somewhat more novel position there, giulia's throwback to alberto being a bit perplexing lmao, kind of thinking the best massimo could do is have a prewritten letter for luca to give to alberto If Possible, conveying something like i know you didn't set my livelihood on fire on purpose but even if you did i'd want you to stay. and luca in a position to do all of "maybe give the island fun facts so someone can check if he's there" & "wait & hope alberto can/does get in touch" & "have a lot of feelings"....not even the context of what this drawing is about necessarily, just tacking it on here anyways. ahead of time i went "heh now i Know they're gonna have it get little Real here b/c it's really about alberto wanting the security of feeling he can 'earn' a sustained relationship" then the short cleared & i was lying completely dead on the pavement
#luca 2021#pixar luca#alberto scorfano#love when like ''yeah ofc you Could guess approx what would happen; b/c of The Themes & things following them''#but then like of course it still manages to Surprise. feels apt when like ppl doing some savvy media analysis can Guess along w/the film#like oh we're gonna fight here we might have our secret revealed here yep. then get caught off guard by alberto but 110% surprised by luca#even as ofc it all makes sense & is cohesive w/those Themes that have been unfolding; not just breaking w/the material to Surprise us#but still unpredictable. the whole movie being so vignettey (god bless. i live) allowing for a lot of that too like just Stuff Can Happen#someone can guess alberto's dad is not in the picture really but you could think oh he's been killed by humans. No lol...#or massimo lost an arm to sea monsters. but no. oh my god & this is how i realize i didn't draw alberto's arm scar hang on lol#okay there it is. here we go gays (me turning in for some rest at 8:15 am)#oh i read this picture book in the internet archive abt like A Parent Expressing Unconditional Love via conversation w/a child. hang on#''even if i did something awful'' by barbara shook hazen; i did think of it here. let me obtain a quote for effect...#[but what if i did something really truly awful?] [like what?] [like playing ball in the living room after you told me not to & breaking#the vase daddy gave you for your birthday even if i didn't mean to & it was an accident? would you still love me then?]#[i love you so much i'd love you if you Did mean to & it wasn't an accident. / but i might also be mad & yell things like 'i've told you a#thousand times!' & 'this is the last straw!' & 'i've had it with your disobeying!' & send you to your room with no dessert... / ...& cry a#little & pick up the pieces.] [i'll help.] [but i still love you no matter what; no matter how mad; no matter how awful. & i always will.]#so long as it's commitment to Actual support which; massimo already On That even before realizing like oh bereft And you're of the sea.....
10 notes · View notes
peppertrax · 1 day
Text
Just lost Sean. No one talk to me.
3 notes · View notes
Text
reading my diary entry from 8th grade when the boy i liked so much gave me a kiss on the cheek..
2 notes · View notes
julesnichols · 5 months
Text
Could not sleep last night and still feel like shit so after lunch I may try to download MI5 and MI6 and gif a lil
5 notes · View notes
cinnamontoads · 5 months
Text
377 and 378 maybe my favorite episodes of one piece by far
4 notes · View notes
zeroideaman · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
first time posting in a while, so have a steve harrington
7 notes · View notes
svnmouth · 5 months
Text
I think getting a hysterectomy would either help with my migraine issues or just give me different problems but I wont be able to know until next year minimum and even then I dont know if I can do a second surgery so soon. the way that birth control just utterly and completely fucks you over when youre starting it, when youre on it, and when youre getting off it is so. Idk if its even worth it to change my birth control if Im gonna get a hystrectomy in the vague soonish future even if I feel like absolute dogshit for an entire month for 1/3rd of the year.
#I take it back on whatever post I made recently about hrt. I think its making my migraine issues worse.#I would take back the smell issue over migraines that have me searching basic math to make sure Im still doing 3x3 correctly#in my head. and like. being unable to read more than a paragraph or two at a time.#honestly. Im really mad at myself for being caught off guard by that doctor and telling her I was on testosterone.#because now I have to jump through stupid fucking hoops to get a hysterectomy and shit and who knows what wouldve happened if I was able to#pretend I was cis. Im pissed about it. and OFCCCCCC she says 'yes I will make sure not to mention the trans thing outside of my notes!'#and WHAT does she label the appointment as?????? literally mentioning Im trans in the big ass header that my new primary doctor immediately#saw. like come on girl do your job better than this.#life sucks being disabled when you have to do all this crap. cant just Schedule a Surgery you have to go get approved by insurance and then#make sure someone can bring you and also you have food you can actually eat during recovery and take time off work and worry about money an#then find out insurance did not approve the surgery AT the appt and then you have to wait another 2 months to reschedule the surgery and do#all of the above alllll over again. but like even worse.#bro Im so stressed about money all the time my moms bills keep going up and her bills cost more than my monthly paycheck. its bad out here.#anyway. my nightly tag rant.
1 note · View note
lenievi · 10 months
Text
I’m rereading my thoughts as I wrote them when I was watching SNW when it aired and this part at the beginning is so important and I sometimes I still need the reminder lol
I consider SNW to not be related to TOS. It’s based on it, but clearly the story will go different directions, therefore there’s no reason to try and make a sense of it (but I also like to reinterpret some stuff for my own enjoyment and fics - but it has no place in discussing TOS like TOS should not really be considered too much when discussing SNW - I still think there should be some things that shouldn’t be broken, but… I think it’s too late for that, so I’ll just have to accept it as “it’s happening. fine” - at least that’s my stance on it.
2 notes · View notes
chiisana-lion · 1 year
Text
a cute as hell cosplayer called me pretty how the hell do i deal w that
3 notes · View notes