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bunnylovesani · 3 months

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Kiss Me Through The Phone

Summary: You call your jerk of a stepbrother to remind him to pick up some milk on the way home but the conversation takes a sinful turn.

Content warnings: Stepcest, dubcon, masturbation, fingering, squirting

WC: 2.9k

“What do you want?” Sam’s short-tempered voice rings out of your phone’s speakers as he picks up your call.

“Just calling to say mom wants you to pick up a carton of milk on the way home.” You exhale. Your mother had been married to his dad for several months now but talking to Sam still made you frustratingly nervous.

“Fine. Is that all?” He snaps back.

“Yeah. When are you going to be back by the way?” You innocently chirp, worried that he’d been gone for so long.

“Why do you care?” He scoffs and you shrink down onto your bed. He had a special gift for making you feel invisibly small.

“Jus’ wondering Sam.” You shrug. “You’re barely ever home. Gets lonely sometimes.”

“Princess wants a playdate, is that it? I’ve got better things to do than rot away in that hole of a house.” The mean tone in his voice pinches at your heartstrings and you feel tears welling up in your eyes. You quickly wipe them away and regulate your breathing, not daring to let him hear your sniffles- you’d never hear the end of it.

“Okay. I’ll stop bothering you then.” You whisper disappointedly, heart sinking even more when you’re met with silence.

“I’m only down the road at a friend’s house. I’ll be back later tonight.” He sighs, as though revealing the simple information was a burden to him.

“You will?” You almost begin to float at the thought of him spending the night for once.

“Yes. You can bother me then.” He sneers.

“Okay!” You have to cover your mouth with your hand before the “can’t wait!” slips out of you. You anticipate that he’ll hang up but the seconds on your screen continue ticking on.

“What have you been doing today?” He asks with a faint curiosity and you’re taken aback by his unusual question.

“Oh! Um, I went shopping earlier.” You reprimand yourself for the stupid response. No wonder he thought you were nothing but an airhead- why couldn’t you have said you were reading classic literature or listening to metal?

“My old man give you a new credit card?” He questions and you blush with embarrassment. Your new stepfather was endlessly generous and as much as you loved being spoiled, you were concerned with the impression it left on Sam. “It’s alright. He loves you like you’re his own. Angel of the family. Probably glad he’s finally got a kid that isn’t a total mess now.” He adds before you can interject.

“Don’t say that, Sam. You’re not a mess.” You remark earnestly. You weren’t about to admit it but you thought the absolute world of him.

“Whatever. What’d you buy?” He brushes the subject off and you hear him exhale- he must be smoking again.

“Oh, I-uh. Well, I…” You stutter, remembering exactly what it is you’d bought earlier.

“Spit it out.” He retorts impatiently and you eye up the pink bag of lingerie sitting by the edge of your bed. “What? You buy something secret?”

“I mean, kinda. Not really. It’s stupid.” You shake your head in panic. “I bought some new bras and panties.”

Once you blurt out the delicate information, there’s an uncomfortably long pause.

“Cute. Bet you’ll look real pretty in it.” He chuckles lightly as he exhales again and a hot blush creeps over your whole face.

“Maybe. I haven’t tried it on yet.” You murmur, unsure how to process Sam complimenting you.

“What are you waiting for?” The sly smirk plastered on his face trickles into his words and you can picture it, clear as day.

“I-I don’t know” You stumble, putting the phone down and fishing your favourite selection out of the bag- a striped pink set complete with chiffon bows. Without a second thought, you strip down to nothing and slide on your new purchase before twirling to admire yourself in front of the mirror.

“How’s it looking?” Sam’s voice rings out on speakerphone.

“It’s pretty. Very flattering.” You said sweetly.

“Show me.”

His bold words stopped you in your tracks and you broke you out into a flurry of goosebumps.

“W-what?” You hesitated, wondering if you’d misunderstood something.

“You heard me. Show me.” He stated confidently.

Reluctantly, you approached your buzzing phone and peered at the screen to see an incoming FaceTime call from Sam. Against your better judgment, you accepted the request and fought the grin that threatened to envelop your face once your screen filled with his handsome, moody face.

“Hey there, princess.” He drawled smoothly, a joint hanging between his fingers.

“Hi.” You cooed, shyness consuming you. The sight of the mischievous glint in his blue eyes paired with the messy, dark hair that trailed down his forehead had you struggling to put a sentence together.

“Put the phone down on your table and give me a spin then.” He ordered more than asked.

Without a second word, you gently placed the phone on your vanity table and propped it up by the mirror before standing back with the same countenance as a skittish deer.

“Wow. Where’s that body been hiding?” He sniggers and you resist the urge to cover your heated face with your hands.

“Now let’s see the back.” He gestures for you to turn around and you follow his command, perching your ass in the air a little as you show him.

“Oh fuck yeah.” He expresses with a low, breathy tone. “Sit down for me.”

Somewhat confused, you situate yourself on the chair by your desk.

“Now lean back. Just like that, sweetheart.”

You follow his words without question, spurred on by the trust you had for him.

“Now spread your legs.” He said casually, as if it were the most normal thing in the world before taking a final drag of his joint and putting it out. When he sees you’re frozen in shock, he simply raises an eyebrow and cocks his head, as if to say “what?”

Anxiety racks your body- as well as deep, burning desire and a desperate urge to please him so you part your legs slowly, resting your heels on either edge of the chair.

“That’s it, baby. You’re so well behaved, aren’t you?” His snarky voice makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up but you’d do anything to hear him call you ‘baby’ again. “Why don’t you slide those off?” His intentions finally come into clear focus- all doubts fading away when you hear the faint clinking of his belt. Too far gone to turn back now.

You put your thighs together, feet swinging gracefully in the air as you gradually pull your panties off. You hear rustling on the other line as Sam’s eyes remain painstakingly fixated on you and the glistening wetness you’ve revealed to him. Dragging the pink fabric over your knees, you flick them off and spread your legs once again.

“L-like this?” You mumble anxiously, feeling chillingly exposed.

“Yeah, baby. Just like that.” He sighs as you hear the snap of his boxers.

“What are you doing, Sam?” You ask apprehensively, a warmth coming over you at the sound of his endearing words.

“You wanna see?” A darkness overcomes his eyes, already smudged with 2-day old eyeliner.

“Mhm.” You nod and he lowers the camera a couple of inches- just enough for his happy trail and lower hips to come into view.

“Are you sure?” He teases and you nod again without a second thought.

“Alright.”

Without further delay, his large cock springs up onto your screen- swollen veins snaking around his thick base and the tip a pretty blushed pink. You exhale a shaky breath at the sight- you’d never seen one before and you weren’t expecting that your stepbrother’s would be the first. His large hand grabs the shaft, stroking it with slow but firm pumps.

“I wanna see you doing the same now, princess.” He rasps, small groans escaping his parted lips between sinful words.

“Me?” You’re taken aback by his perverted request.

“Who else has got her legs spread? Yes, you. Put those pretty fingers to good use and touch yourself. Can you do that for me, baby?” He asks sternly and you have to look away from the camera when you notice how hungrily he’s staring at you.

“I don’t know, Sam…” Your mind clouds with doubt. “Isn’t this really fucked up?”

“The only thing that’d be fucked up is you backing out now.” He rebuked with the same aggression in his voice you’re used to hearing. “If you don’t do it now, I’ll do it myself when I get home.”

The thought of Sam’s fingers prodding somewhere so intimate both turned you on and freaked you out beyond measure. The dangerous stare in his glazed-over eyes served as a warning and you knew he wasn’t bluffing.

With bated breath, you snaked one hand between your legs and traced it down your puffy folds.

“Good girl. I knew you’d do the right thing.” He sighs contentedly and resumes stroking his cock, the tip now a deeper pink and glassy with precum. “Now squeeze your tits with your other hand.”

You knew better than to argue back so you followed his orders, raising your free hand to knead your left breast.

“Pinch your nipple.” The expression on his handsome face contained nothing but dark, burning lust.

“Sammm…” You whined, consumed with embarrassment.

“Don’t make me come down there.” He scowled threateningly.

Anxiety racked your body but you could feel the wetness pooling in your cunt as you lightly pulled at your nipple.

“I wanna see you fucking yourself.” He announced ominously. “Come on, baby, use those fingers.”

“But Sam, I-I don’t do that. I don’t like it.” You mutter- you’d never tried before.

“Do it for me.” He insisted and you knew you couldn’t refuse.

Your middle finger outlined your opening- it was certainly wet enough to slide in easily, but you still felt scared. Wanting to complain and give up, you looked up at the phone still perched on your desk and saw him then- eyes intently fixed on you and stroking himself desperately, shirt lifted up just enough to reveal his toned abdomen. He looked a mess. And all for you?

Scrunching up your face, you slowly dipped a finger inside, wincing at the unfamiliar feeling and reprimanding yourself for not being strong enough to say no.

“Oh, you’re such a baby.” Sam shook his head. “And you’re not doing it right.”

“I don’t know what you want!” You moan frustratedly, pulling your hand away in defeat.

“I know. I’ll show you.” He affirms lowly.

“What?” You reach out and grab your phone.

“Stay right there.” He orders before hanging up, leaving you staring at the blank screen of your phone in confusion and horror. He wasn’t going to come here, was he?

You were too obedient to do anything but stay in place like he’d instructed but you were still tormented with anxious anticipation. It was one thing to mess around on the phone but something entirely different to take it to the next level. You weren’t entirely sure you wanted to cross that line.

You heard the heavy thud of footsteps traipsing up the stairs and your whole body froze. The door swung open and a smirking Sam entered the room with a cocky stride.

“You haven’t moved.” He notes, closing the door behind him and approaching you like a predator closing in on its prey.

“You told me not to.” You counter.

“That’s right.” He mutters to himself as he lies back against your headboard. “Come here, sweetie.” He beckons you over and you timidly go over to him, your back pressed against his open chest.

Sam rests his chin on your shoulder and inhales the scent of you, nuzzling up to the crook of your neck.

“Lie back for me.” You rest your bare self against him completely, slotting in between his legs. “Just like that. Now I’m going to show you how it’s done.”

“But- but you said if I did it myself then you wouldn’t.” You whined.

“I know doll but you didn’t do it right, did you?” He traced his hand down your slit and wasted no time before gathering the slick with two fingers and plunging them inside you.

“Sam!” You mewl at the unexpected intrusion.

“Shut up.” He curls his fingers and your eyes roll to the back of your head. You look down at the silver rings glimmering on his fingers, now sheathed inside you.

“You’re so soft and squishy.” He laughs mockingly, plunging his slender fingers in and out roughly. “And squelchy too. You hear that?” He speeds up for a moment to emphasise the lewd sounds of your wet pussy, arousal dripping down his hand already.

“You’re gonna let me play with you.” He fucks his fingers in and out of you with brutal precision. “Because that’s what big brothers do- and good little sisters listen.”

“But Sammy, it’s wrong.” You moan and he clamps your mouth shut with a big open hand before you can voice any more protests.

“You make the mistake of thinking I care what you want.” He palms your breast and takes your nipple between his fingers, squeezing at it hard. “You’re my little toy. A thing to play with. You understand?” You nod as much as you’re able to considering the state of delirium you had fallen into.

“Stop squirming and take it.” He slaps your breast harshly before sticking his thumb in your mouth; you suckle at it messily, drool dripping on your chin and down your cleavage.

“Too-too much Sam.” You wail, thighs shaking and closing in around his veiny arm.

“I don’t think so.” He yanks his fingers out so that he can force your legs open with both hands, pulling them apart as far as they could go before dipping his creamy fingers back in.

“Do you know what squirting is, baby?” He asks you calmly, deriving a sick pleasure out of compelling you to speak when you were clearly falling apart.

“Y-yes.” You choke out breathily.

“How?” He raises an eyebrow and snakes a hand around your neck. “Has my little sis been a slut?”

“No, no, I promise.” You shake your head desperately.

“How then? Been watching things you shouldn’t have?” He cocks his head around to face you and you shyly nod in response. “Ah, I thought so. That’s very naughty of you, sweetheart.” He chastises you, admiring how he’d turned you into a panting, dishevelled mess in no time at all.

His fingertips brushed against an undiscovered spongy spot inside you and your toes curled at the blazing sensation. You entered a trance and soon after you heard a wet gushing that spilled out and drenched your thighs and sheets.

“Such a good girl.” He kissed the side of your face sloppily. “Knew you could do it.”

You peered down and saw that his broad, veined forearm was dripping- creamy wetness dribbling from his fingertips.

“I-I did that?” You panted, confused.

“Sure did, baby. All you.” He started rubbing circles into your clit and you threw your head back onto his shoulder.

“Sam, what are you doing?” You whined, head spinning with the mind-numbingly good way he was playing with you.

“I’m not done with my little toy.” He massages your swollen pussy, callous fingertips stroking against the delicate nub with dizzying speed. “Cum on my fingers, baby, cum all over them.”

You came undone, whimpering and crying out so loud the walls vibrated. Sam chuckled at the sight, looking down at your fucked out expression with cocky pride.

“We’re home!” Your mother’s voice rang out as the front door shut with a resounding slam and you scrambled to get dressed. Just as she climbed upstairs to reach your room, you’d gotten your dress back on- albeit backwards.

“Oh, hey Sam.” She peered in, noticing him sitting on the chair by your desk and he waved at her with a thin smile. “Did you get the milk like I asked?”

“Must’ve slipped my mind.” He shrugged and she rolled her eyes.

“Everything slips your mind, sometimes I wonder if there even is a mind to speak of.”

“Mom!” You screwed your face up at her, hating how she and Sam bickered.

“What? He forgets everything.” She waves her hand in the air dismissively, about to head out the door before your dress caught her eye. “Is that a new way of wearing it that I don’t know about?” You look down as she points at the inside-out fabric.

“Yeah, mom. Contrast stitching is all the rage.” You nod persuasively.

“I’m getting old.” She sighs. “But it’s nice to see you two hanging out.”

“Oh we’re a regular Bonnie and Clyde.” Sam smirks and you laugh nervously, hoping she wouldn’t read too much into the strange comparison.

As soon as she’s gone, Sam shoots you a dark stare, lust infusing his eyes once again.

“You’re lucky they got back home when they did. I would’ve ruined you.” He remarks casually and you shuffle in your seat uncomfortably, burning under his intense gaze.

“You already did.” You gulp at his thinly veiled threat.

“Oh baby, you have no idea.”

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#hayden christensen #sam monroe #sam monroe smut #sam monroe x reader #anakin skywalker #star wars fanfiction #life as a house

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honeykaes · 7 months

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masked fantasy

slasher!lyney x reader II 2.8k

warning: smut, 18+ content, minors do not interact, afab!reader with no set pronouns, modern au, implied!yandere, implied murder, fingering, cunnilingus, use of toys, creampie, overstimulation, dacryphilia, praise pussydrunk!lyney, established relationship, gaslighting/manipulation, mention of blood, unedited

synopsis: you've been on edge lately seeing news report after news report of people killed by a masked pierrot serial killer, targeting people you seemed to vaguely know. your boyfriend, lyney, insists you drop it and focus on him instead to try to get your mind off of things. you listen, but something in the pit of your stomach continues to nag at you.

Gloomy clouds above hid the stars and the moonlight above. Rain loudly padded against the windows, a small waterfall streaming down it. You snuggled into your blanket further on the couch in an attempt to knock the chill away from the living room. A sigh emitted from your lips watching the 6:00 p.m. news report of yet another murder in your town from a masked serial killer. This wouldn’t very unique to some; however, you began to notice a pattern

The media and detectives have deemed him the Pierrot—a serial killer who dons a French Carnival-Style Jester mask. Reports from the police said he’s still at large and seemed to be killing indiscriminately, but you knew a little better. The photos of the victims all shared one thing in common with you, you had vaguely known them in the past.

One was an old high school classmate, another was a teacher's assistant who once assisted your professors in college, another was a barista worker from a cafe you sometimes go to, even old childhood friends you haven’t spoken to for years. You wanted to chalk it up to a weird coincidence but the pit in your stomach churned, discouraging you to relax.

You worry whoever this masked killer was, he was working his way to you.

Thunder suddenly boomed in the sky, causing your body to jolt from the noise. You let out a sigh; the stress seemed to finally be getting to you.

Your boyfriend walked in, an amused but concerned smile on his face. You and Lyney had been dating for a while now, meeting in college when you decided to study abroad in France. Eventually, you moved into his place that he shared with his two siblings—his twin sister Lynette and his adoptive younger brother Freminet.

Things were great with Lyney. He was doting, caring, and amusing as well. He made you happy; he felt real. He was someone you could imagine marrying maybe in a year or two.

“You alright? You seem a bit jumpy today,” he hummed, handing you a mug of hot chocolate. The aroma of the milk chocolate made your mouth water as marshmallows floated on top. You flash a small smile, taking the mug for him and taking a sip—hoping the warm liquid would coax your anxiety.

“Honestly, not really. The whole Pierrot serial killer thing has been really bothering me lately. I vaguely know the victims, albeit there aren’t people I know like that or associate myself with now. But, still! I recognize them,” you sighed, looking at the reflection of your mug. Lyney’s face slightly softened at your confession.

“...I’m scared that the killers are actually targeting me. Like this is some fucked up mind game or whatever. I’m scared it’ll also mean the people that I currently care about are in danger too. …like you,” you muttered. Lyney chuckled slightly before you looked up at him and narrowed your eyes. He covered his mouth, trying to stifle his laughter, murmuring apologies as he tried to calm down.

“Darling, I wouldn’t worry about it too much. Besides, you have your amazing, attentive, loveable, strong boyfriend here to help. I’m here to protect both you and my siblings,” he chimed, leaning in to peck your forehead. You side-eye the man as he plopped down next to you on the couch, placing his mug of hot chocolate on the coffee table. He grabbed some of the blankets covering your lower body, getting in close to cover his form as well. Your thighs and sides pressed together as he smiled.

“I don’t know if a shortie like you will be able to fight off a psychopath,” you chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. Slight annoyance flashed through Lyney’s amethyst eyes as he pouted.

“You’d be surprised…” he muttered. You chuckled once more before leaning in to kiss Lyney’s plush cheek as his eyes softened in affection.

“Well, let’s just lighten the mood. We were going to watch Halloween special shows after all,” Lyney chimed, leaning over to grab the remote and change the television. That was right, today was supposed to be your date night. Freminet was having a sleepover with some of his friends and Lynette, begrudgingly, went out to give you two some space.

You felt Lyney’s hands underneath the blanket stroke against your thigh. At first, it was his thumb, before his whole hand slowly crept up and down. You gazed flickered to his that were glued to the television screen, albeit they were half-lidded and a smirk fell on his now rosy face.

“Well, aren’t you a bit touchy,” you murmured.

“Oh, am I? I didn’t seem to notice,” he hummed back, turning his gaze towards you. As he leaned in close—lips hovering by your own—a cell phone rang loudly. Your body jolted up once more, not expecting the sudden noise as anxiety shot throughout your entire body. Lyney flashed a sympathetic smile as a soft chuckle echoed out. He padded your thigh to try to comfort you, reaching out to grab his phone that was ringing out.

“We got to get you to relax, mon amour,” he murmured. He got up from his seat, walking away from your form.

Guilt gnawed on your body. You felt bad for being so anxious lately from this serial killer like your body is completely on edge as if you were a rabbit in the den of wolves, but you shouldn’t.

“I’m in my home. I am with my loving boyfriend. I am okay, I am safe,” you whispered out to yourself. Eventually, Lyney walked back in, and settled back to his spot on the couch.

“That was Lynette. She said that she would be coming home around midnight. It gives us plenty of time if you want this that is,” he stated, letting his hands trail across your thighs. You smiled, placing your hands on his cheeks. The corners of his lips curved up, leaning his head against your touch.

“I think a distraction would be good for me,” you whispered. His nose brushed against yours, lips hovering to where they once were before the interruption.

“Then forget all your troubles and leave everything to me…”

His lips finally found themselves to your own and you brought him closer to you. Your legs widened as his knees sank against the cushion of the couch to lean to you, deepening the kiss. Your hand reached over, softly grazing the crotch of his pants feeling his half-hardened cock pressing against his jeans. A soft moan escapes his lips, still connecting with yours before he parts away, and trails them along the nape of your neck.

“We…need to go to the bedroom,” Lyney groaned, continuing to kiss down your neck and nibble at the sensitive skin. Your body shivered, and you bit your lip to hide the smile creeping on your face.

“Oh, but you’re the one who has me pinned down here,” you reminded. With a grunt and pout, Lyney leaned back up, grabbed your hand, and found his way to your lips once more. The two of you bumped into walls—taking each other’s clothing off, leaving a trail to your shared bedroom. Lyney pushed you down on the bed as he slowly crawled on top of you with a mischievous smile.

“You seem so eager now. What’s the difference, chérie?” he hummed, dragging his lips across your thighs. His hands squeezed at your thighs as his lips finally trailed along the plush flesh. His hand reached to cup your cunt earning a soft moan from you as he nipped at your thighs.

“You seemed to be a great distraction, I guess,” you whined, grinding your core into his hand to encourage him to stop teasing you. Lyney playfully rolled his eyes, letting his two longest fingers sink inside your cunt, drilling them to precision and skill.

“‘I guess’” he mocked. “You, out of anyone, should know I’m more than just a ‘guess’. You know how well you enjoy passing the time with my fingers deep inside of you like this…or my mouth…or my cock. As he continued to plunge his fingers deeper inside of you, feeling your walls flutter, he couldn’t stop himself from grinding against the bed to try to get some friction on his throbbing clothed cock.

He soon learned near your drooling core, globs of your slick clinging against the fingers plunging inside of you.

“But, it’s fine. I’ll ensure you’ll think of me and nothing else. Just me and only me,” he stated. He finally pressed his lips against your clit as your body jolted in delight. Your hands dug into his soft ash-blond hair, pulling him in even deeper as his chuckles reverberated against the nub. He darted his tongue out, beginning to slowly swirl circles along the perimeter of it before letting his tongue flick rapidly on the bundle of nerves.

Your body shivered in pleasure, back arched, as Lyney tried to contain his smile, feeling your thighs beginning to press against the cheek of his face. He continued to flick his tongue against your clit before encompassing his lips around it and sucking on it—fingers not wavering and continuing to thrust inside of you.

Lyney lifted your leg against one of his shoulders and he pressed the flat of his tongue against the nub, offering a few gentle licks on it before he shifted back to suck on it. You writhed underneath him, as his blunt nails dug into your hips to try to prevent you from moving too much. The sinful sounds of slouching echoed out in the bedroom, your cheeks hot feeling overwhelmed by the attention and meticulous touch of both his mouth and fingers.

“Lyney, oh fuck. Please, please…!” you begged out. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, back arched once more—quivering—as you finally reached your high. His breath is heavy, letting your leg fall back down on the bed, leaning up to watch your pussy convulsed against nothing. His lower mouth glistened in your arousal as he licked his lips to clean up what slick clung onto there. The sweet taste of it was enough to make Lyney grin, watching your tired form trying to recover from your climax.

He leaned down against your side, feeling his hard and pulsating cock against the soft globes of your ass. He grabbed a handful of the globe, letting his cock slide between your thighs and slit a few times. As he made contact with your overstimulated clit you jolted and a soft whine emitted from you. Lyney laughed, tapping his tip against it a few times before he finally let himself slowly plunge inside of you.

As Lyney slowly sank deeper, He moved his mouth to your neck, groaning loudly, feeling your walls pulsating. When he finally bottomed out, his lips softly kissed your neck before rutting into you. The sound of slapping skin was loud inside the room and the smell of sweat wafted throughout it too. Lyney continued to nibble at your neck, admiring the bruises and hickies he decorated on the skin. His groaning got louder as he sucked a breath in, feeling your walls beginning to cave and tighten.

“Fuck,” Lyney moaned out loudly. You gasped as you felt him move and shift your body. Your ass hung in the air, as your head said laying on the pillows. His nails harpoon against your ass, drilling himself even deeper inside of you. As he continued to rut inside of you, he leaned down and kissed your back, groaning once more. He could feel your walls continuing to cave in, making it harder for him to control his thrusts and not lose himself too much in the pleasure.

He suddenly slipped out, cock quivering as he took a few breaths to try to control himself from climaxing. As he softly sighed, moving past it, he opened his eyes and admired your widening hole drooling out.

“W-What are you…” you asked, softly before Lyney pressed a finger to his lips. He reached over to the nightstand, rummaging through it. You thought he was looking for a condom, but your eyes widened seeing him pull out a small bullet vibrator instead. He held down the button on the side as the contraption began to vibrate erratically in the palm of his hands.

“I think keeping you on your toes would be best for tonight. Besides, I haven’t heard you use this before when I’m in the shower,” he chuckled as you bit your lip in embarrassment. He slid his cock back inside of you, before snaking his hand around and pressing the erratically moving vibrator against your overstimulated clit. You cried out his name, his thrusts deep and rapid. The whole bed creaked to his fast strokes, Lyney’s breaths getting heavier as he repeated your name in a slurred way as if your cunt had made him drunk.

“There…there…there…that’s right,” Lyney moaned out. You covered your face feeling tears begin to prick out as the pleasure and burn of overstimulation settled in. You shout his name, body convulsing as you reach your high for the second time tonight, writhing for what it seemed like hours beneath him.

In a dazed form, you felt Lyney flip you over admiring your absolute fucked-out form, quickly turning the vibrator off and throwing it across the bed. He continued to plunge himself inside of you. His eyes admire your chest bouncing to the fast pace of his thrusts. His cheeks were flushed and his voice whining, grunting, and groaning your name. You could barely focus on anything, your legs instinctively moved and wrapped against his small waist.

“I love you. I love you. Je t’aimerai toujours. Je n’aime que toi!” Lyney moaned out. He leaned his head back, snapping his eyes shut as he finally reached his high. His hips continued to bug, thrusting the ropes of cums deeper inside of you. He bit his lip as another soft moan emitted from him, taking heavy breaths before looking down at you.

He smiled, wiping away the tears pricking your eyes, speaking softly, and whispered in his mother tongue affection gestures to make sure you were alright. He placed his forehead against your own seeing you slowly come back from your senses, eyes completely tired but your form relaxed. There wasn’t an inch of tension he could see that you had before.

Lyney brought his lips down against your own, offering a slower and more sensual kiss.

“You know I’d do anything, absolutely anything for you. I love you so much it hurts,” he whispered. You smiled, pecking his forehead as he slowly pulled himself out of you. Soon globs of his cum began dribbling from your cunt and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Your eyes drift to the clock; Lynette will be coming home soon. You two needed to clean up and shower to avoid any unnecessary awkward conversations.

You finally closed your legs, moving to get up from the bed you accidentally hit the vibrator down as it fell to the floor. You sighed as you got up, your legs wobbly as you tried to readjust yourself.

“W-Wait! Don’t worry about it. I’ll get it and change the sheets. You just go clean up in the bathroom. If you need help just tell me, but I don’t want you to fall!” Lyney suddenly murmured. He seemed oddly on edge suddenly. You shrugged, leaning down to pick the toy up.

“It’s fine, it’s just right here. I can take…care of it….” your voice trailed off. Your eyes catch something odd under the bed. You reached to grab it, revealing that same Jester mask you saw on the news report from earlier. Parts of it seemed more damaged and cracked than the rendering the broadcast had, with a particular smudge with a dark red substance splattered on it.

Dried blood.

You look up in horror to gaze back at Lyney. His eyes, which you always knew were sweet and kind, looked back to you with more of a darker twist—his lips cemented in a frown.

“I told you to drop it, didn’t I…?” he sighed. You felt frozen in shock and fear as Lyney moved from the top of the bed to join you on the floor. His eyes, still twirled with that dark emotion you couldn’t read well, but his gaze softened. His lips curled up in a smile, you couldn’t tell if it was genuine or if he was just trying to comfort you from the revelation.

He dragged his thumb against your cheek, wiping away the tears that cascaded down. You didn’t notice you were crying.

“....Because sometimes we prefer the fantasy than the truth darling.”

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin #lyney x reader #lyney smut #lyney imagines #lyney scenarios #yandere lyney

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nicosraf · 10 days

Note

Wait what did Freydis Moon do? :( I've read their books and really liked them, but I don't follow them anywhere online, so that last ask you got worried me

Freydis Moon has been exposed to be Taylor Barton, a white person from the state of Oregon, someone who had a history of faking their race, being racist, and general abusive behavior. You can read more here about this Taylor person here, and you can find an incredibly long thread here.

Freydis was a colleague of mine, and they took me under their wing when I entered the indie book scene. They presented themselves as a Latine, mystic, queer trans author — who was older than me, I should add — so I deeply admired them and confided in them. I don't think ABM would have ever gotten much attention if I hadn't received their guidance.

There had been some whispers that Freydis was really Taylor, but I'd seen Frey's seemingly darker-skinned hands and heard their real name, which was supposedly Daniela.

Two things I should say before the big reveal: Freydis briefly hired a publicist named Cordi, who was also an agent with their own agency, named The Lynne Agency. Cordi, very randomly, decided to leave the industry and left their clients, and Freydis, hanging. Someone else to mention is Saint Harlow, an author of gay, cannibal erotica. On twitter, Saint was known for peddling a lot of drama — sometimes, he was on the good side of things and sometimes the bad, but he tended to be a massive bully. Freydis allegedly comforted some of Saint's victims.

And the reveal:

Freydis is the race faker Taylor Barton. The evidence is substantial, but most notably, some of the files they shared with other authors, including me, had metadata with the names of Taylor Barton's other identities. I was able to check the files myself to confirm.

They were also Saint Harlow. Meaning Freydis was bullying people secretly on one account and comforting them on another. And the bullying was a lot more disgusting than you might think, but for the sake of the victim, I won't share details.

They were also the publicist/agent Cordi. Why did they pretend to be an agent at all? I'm not sure but they wasted a lot of authors' times, that's for sure. Were they just looking to plagiarize off manuscripts sent to them? Who knows. (A friend of mine who sent their manuscript to them fears so).

There were a lot of interactions between Taylor and I that are much much weirder in retrospect. They critiqued the industry use of #ownvoices, which I agreed about, but blew the issue out of proportion, like thinking #ownvoices gay-trans author book lists shouldn't exist because of potential outing, mlm books by mlm authors lists shouldn't exist because of potential outing, and that lists of books by people of color about people of color also shouldn't exist because... potential outing? Taylor was, to me, oddly sympathetic toward certain authors accused of racism and shot down my concerns of a certain book with what I felt to be pro-colonizer themes inconsistently — their response to racism seemed to depend on whether they already disliked a person or not.

I could say a lot more but as someone who spoke to Taylor in private at times, there were a lot of things I was unsure about even when I was on their side of things. To some people, apparently, Freydis had said they were part Mexican, but only ever told me they were Peruvian (they might've known I'd clock them as a faker). Regardless, when this all came to light, their response was shockingly dismissive.

This may be more info than you asked for but TLDR:

Freydis Moon faked their race and ethnicity, bullied and manipulated many readers and authors using various fake identities, took advantage of latine author resources, and so on.

#mine #ask #publishing #freydis moon

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radio-writes · 2 months

Text

I Don't Know if I'm Real Without You

— Part 2 of 2 (Read Part 1 here: What is Left of Me Without You)

Synopsis: He didn't love you, but he needed you—that's what he said, at least. He needed you to show him just how deep your devotion to him really was.

Warnings: abusive relationships, power imbalance, some misogyny, heavy manipulation, gaslighting, murder and violence, physical injury to reader, major character death(s), angst

Tags: married, one sided romantic love, Alastor x Reader, female!reader

MDNI

"Why, just the other day a green fuzzy caught sight of another stiff by the river! Poor green egg went green in the face!" A laugh track followed the voice on the radio.

Alastor sat on the couch as he riffled through his briefcase, making sure he had everything he needed today.

"What poor taste," You commented absentmindedly from behind him. "Is that really any way to start off a Sunday morning?"

Alastor let out a distracted hum at your words. He hadn't really been paying you much mind. A lazy smile simply played on his face.

Just one body? Seems they missed the other two friends it had in there.

"Well, it takes talent to entertain, my dear. Something these hacks clearly lack," He said casually, waving a hand at the radio's direction.

"And speaking of stiffs! We've got a fresh one today, folks—" The host's voice was chipper as it came from the radio.

Alastor sat a little straighter, as if on instinct.

"Darling, do you mind fetching my script?" Your husband spoke over the hack radio host. "Seems I might have forgotten it in our bedroom."

"Not a problem, dear," You replied almost instantaneously. Your hand landed on his shoulder, giving it an affectionate squeeze before you left the room.

Alastor stood up, cooly making his way towards the radio as he turned the volume down slowly.

"Glue stuffed in his mouth, chilled off, and absolutely tattered by nails, people! Brutal new body found behind the local—not so secret—juice joint!" The radio continued, but Alastor's smile remained calm despite the gruesome news.

His eyes stayed at the doorway you left through, making sure you had actually gone.

There was no need to sully your little ears with useless chatter like this. You were much more use to him all oblivious and naive, so he'd prefer to keep you that way.

When the radio host finally finished talking about his the most latest victim, Alastor turned the volume back up to how it was. He made his way back to the couch, hands gathering his script neatly into his hands from the top of his briefcase.

He chuckled to himself before calling out to you. "Never mind, dear! The little bugger was at the bottom of my case this entire time!"

He wasn't the type to forget these things. He was always so organized, sometimes to a fault.

And you knew that.

And Alastor knew that you knew that.

But he wasn't worried. You'd never doubt him. Whatever pesky little thought you had related to him, you'll just brush off easily.

He'd made sure of that.

Alastor heard you playfully scold him, your soft laughter rung through his home.

"—I guess you can say he really nailed that Chicago overcoat!" The annoying little shit on the radio joked just as you entered the room.

Alastor spared it one quick glare before his sight fell on you once more. You didn't seem to care for the joke much, but your eyes did linger on the dials of the radio for a second too long Alastor thought.

"Does the radio seem a bit louder to you, Al?" You asked him.

Ah, he must have turned it back a tad bit too far.

He looked at you with faux confusion. "'fraid I don't know what you mean, dear. Why would it be louder?" He stood up, closing the briefcase in front of him and straightening out his collar. "But I do have to split now, darling, or the ol' big cheese would have my head."

Your eyes met his warm chestnut ones. Alastor could practically see the way you brushed away your silly concerns in your head, a soft smile once again gracing your lips.

He knew you were confused as to why his boss supposedly needed him at work on a Sunday.

He knew you wanted to ask why.

He knew that, at least some part of you, didn't fully believe that he was headed off to the radio station.

If you were smart you'd have listened to it.

But you were his wife.

So you simply nodded in understanding, moving closer to where Alastor stood. You made to grab for the suit jacket that still hung on his arm but the tall man was quick to pull it high above your reach.

"Not so fast there, darling." He teased, smiling down at you.

"It's cold out, dear. I'll help you put your coat on," You insisted, small, delicate hands reached up for the jacket.

Alastor stepped back from you, briefly tapping his fingertip against your nose. "And who said I was in any hurry to cover up this lovely new shirt my wife got for me?" He teased, snapping the suspenders he wore against the crisp white shirt.

He simply adored it when he made heat color your soft cheeks. He loved seeing proof of his effect on you.

His eyes drifted to the clock behind you, his smile straining just a tiny bit when he realized what time it was.

He'd miss his mark if he wasted any more time here.

"In any case, darling, I really do have to dash," He smiled back at you, already heading towards the door before you could say anything else. "But do keep yourself free, baby. I'll be back before you know it." He shot a wink at you.

He grabbed his hat from the coat rack and plopped it neatly on his head, then he was out the door in a second.

Alastor let out a short, tired breath.

Sometimes, he did find your love to be a bit tiring. But he supposed, at the moment, it was still worth much more than the hassle it caused him.

He hurriedly strolled down the street, smiling and greeting everyone that passed by him politely. His ego stroked just a little bit with every flustered dame.

He didn't care for any of them, but he never grew tired of knowing the charming effect he had on people.

Alastor tried to clear his head of you as he hopped into a taxi. He laughed as the cabby recognized him almost immediately, but he didn't pay the man any mind as he yapped about how much of a fan he was.

Instead, he found that his thoughts have annoyingly strayed back to you. He's found that you've been so persistently present in his mind lately.

One would think that sounded so romantic, that he was a cold man finally falling for a sweet little thing.

But in reality he was weighing his options.

You've always been so behaved, so meek.

He found you endearing, that much was true.

You were great company, after all. You loved the same music he did, kept up with his dancing, and sang so beautifully along whenever he tickled the ivory keys.

You dressed up to compliment his style, even if it wasn't to your comfort. Smiled at all the wretched people, even as they gossiped behind your back. Perfectly prepared and happily ate every dish he liked, even stranger ones you found hard to stomach.

Because you shaped yourself to be his partner. You did everything and anything that you could to gain his approval.

And that was indeed endearing. The lengths you went to, just to hear a simple praise from him.

Alastor used to wonder if there was ever a limit to it, but as the times flew by he realized you were just too happy to rewrite even your own logic just to stay by his side.

And it was also true that you were a brilliant cover.

As a taken man, there were much less people prying into his life as opposed to when he was an eligible bachelor. And no odd rumors ever spread about him thanks to how behaved you were.

People saw him as soft, gentle, caring. Because a violent, murderous, psycho could never keep a delicate little thing like you as his wife, could he?

Yes, you definitely had your perks. That much he already knew.

But you've been so restless lately. So oddly, insistent on being by his side more.

He'd tried to talk it out of you. Whispered how he was so lucky that you weren't like other wives. How you trusted him and respected his space. How you didn't nag him like a terrible partner would.

And it worked...for a while.

Until you've been fixated on getting the darn basement door open, at least. Somehow, you had it stuck in your brain that opening that stupid lock would have proved your worth to him.

You've been visiting that mug of a shopkeep at the locksmiths so often that Alastor just simply had to get rid of him already. He returned the useless tools he sold you last time too of course. He didn't quite like others making a fool out of what was his.

Only he could do that.

The cab stopped by a rather classy bar, the driver letting out a low whistle, going on about how they also wished that they could live up the big life.

Alastor tipped him generously, bidding him a great day as he stepped out.

He tossed his jacket on quickly before he adjusted his bowtie in the reflective glass window of the building. This was, he thought, his second favorite part of it all.

For such a detached man, Alastor loved many things.

He loved meeting his victims for the first time in person. The thrill of so many eyes on him as he clasped their clammy palms in greeting.

He loved talking to them, watching their eyes light up as he mentioned what they wanted the most. That moment where he knew he had hit the nail on the head and found out exactly what made these scum tick.

He loved using it against them, luring them to a false sense of security.

And, his absolute favorite part, he loved dragging the sharp edge of his knife against the skin of their necks. The lovely shade of red bleeding down their stiffening bodies.

He just can't help but love—

"My darling?" A voice—your voice—rung out in the dark alley.

There wasn't time. There was no time to hide the body, toss the knife, flee from the scene.

There was no time to come up a with a story, a lie, a cover.

Because you were right there, standing in the alley with him. His blood stained hands and the corpse by his feet plainly in your view.

Even with the blood smudged on the lenses of his glasses, he could see the fear in your eyes, the gears turning in your head as you tried to process the scene in front of you.

It's a real shame. Earlier today he had decided that you still had more purpose to serve him. That he could still put up with you. That he would still be able to stomp out whatever stubborn will riled you up lately.

Clearly that wasn't the case anymore.

"Now, now, dearest," He started, hand reaching out to you as he held the knife still in his hand.

Your feet moved, but to Alastor's shock you ran to him.

Your panicked eyes took in the violent red that stained the pristine white shirt as you took his outstretched hand in both of yours.

"We should go," You hurriedly whispered, fearful eyes met his confused ones. "You can't be seen here."

You tugged him along the streets, careful to keep yourself in front of him as you tried to hide most parts of him stained with red.

Alastor's eyes were wide, his long legs working on their own as he tried to understand what exactly was happening.

"Dearest?" He whispered to catch your attention. "I just chopped off a man, you know that, right?"

Your steps didn't falter as you hurried along, but you didn't turn your head to look at him either.

"Yes," You responded. The tight knot against your throat kept you from saying anything more.

"I sliced his throat open," Alastor continued to prod more. "His blood is all over me, in fact."

You whip your head around in urgency. You meant to shut him up. You meant to warn him not to talk so loud, that you couldn't be too sure who could be around to overhear.

But when your fearful eyes met his calm, warm, sweet, ones you ended up swallowing against your dry throat. Adorning a shaky smile instead.

"And I'm sure you did it to keep yourself safe, dear." You said, although it seemed as though you were trying to convince yourself of that.

It was as if a light bulb lit up in Alastor's head. He finally understood what was happening. He fought against his own body to keep himself from smiling as he stared into your uncertain eyes.

"I knew you'd understand," He feigned a sigh. His hand, that was previously unresponsive in yours, curled its fingers to hold onto you. "I knew I would be safe with you, my darling wife."

Alastor noted the way your stiff shoulders slacked at his words. As if you were waiting for his praise; as if you were waiting for that little bit of confirmation to fully push away all those pesky, silly, little doubts you held.

As if you were begging to have the slightest bit of reason to cling onto, to prove that there was no cause to leave your spot beside him.

"If anyone asks," You said softly, your hand reached out to wipe away the little bit of blood on his cheek. "I'll tell them you came home early to me. You did promise that you would come back quickly, anyway."

Alastor smiled down at you, letting himself lean into your touch as you seemed to love it when he does. "I am so lucky that you love me, doll."

You continued to lead him down the streets, sticking to less lit areas as you did so.

Alastor couldn't stop the grin from spreading widely across his face.

Because you did love him. You loved Alastor with all your sanity it seemed, but he was, unfortunately, far too happy to take advantage of that.

It was a huge weight off his shoulders really.

Alastor enjoyed the hunt, the kill, but the clean up? Not so much.

While yes, he did enjoy tricking people into eating up his stories, misdirecting them this way and that, silently mocking how clueless they were. It was still such a pain to have to constantly make sure his stories were air tight.

He didn't have to do that anymore, though. Not when all his darling wife had to do was smile shyly at people and hint that he was back home all night busy with more usual pleasures.

It wasn't even that hard to convince you to let him stay out late, hunt to his heart's content.

It was all just bad, terrible people. Scum of the earth. Dangers that could hurt you, or others. And Alastor, the dashing, selfless, secret knight in shinning armor was willing to dirty his hands if it meant keeping people safe. He'd taken on the burden so everyone else didn't have to.

Your husband, a great, tragic hero.

And besides, it's not like he asked you to kill someone. All you had to do was lie a little. Nothing grand, nothing elaborate—he wasn't so sure you'd be able to handle it after all—just smile, and hint, and spread a few insignificant white lies.

It was easy enough, wasn't it?

And your little love for him did everything else. Your own lovesick mind fought your instincts without Alastor even doing much of anything else.

You convinced yourself so quickly that all this blood, all this violence, all this murder, just made your husband an even greater man.

Ah, he truly did love the way you loved him.

You were with him now down in the basement—Alastor conveniently finally figured out how to open the stubborn padlock—and if he was being honest, he never really imagined you joining him here.

Well, not alive anyway.

You watched him as he neatly packed the most latest body into a bag and burn the gloves he used during the act. Going through his simple routine to make sure he could continue to get away scot-free.

Alastor noticed how your eyes always averted from the corpses, insistent on staying on his form instead. He didn't really mind it, but oh did he enjoy that little spark of fear you worked hard to stomp down whenever your glance landed on a limb or two.

He heaved the bag over his shoulder, before finally fully turning to you. "Well, let's get a move on, shall we, darling?" He smiled cheerfully, motioning with his arm for you to head up the stairs first.

You were glad to do so it seemed, you always were. You didn't have to watch your husband dispose of bodies, but Alastor found it rather cathartic how you've now started to cringe away from the basement door, after weeks of pestering him over opening it.

A little lesson, he thought. Well deserved.

And look how behaved you were now again.

The walk to the nearby woods was uneventful. Silent. Routine.

Unlike the first time around he dragged you along. You kept wondering and wondering until you finally asked out loud how Alastor knew the streets so well. How he knew where to go where no one would see him. The man you saw him kill was the first one, wasn't he?

He laughed at your unsure smile, brushing your worries off with the flimsiest excuses. How he'd been home late so many times already because of work. How he just preferred to take the quieter roads so as to decompress from all his adoring fans—fans who weren't you.

And it was enough.

Because you foolishly trusted him. You wanted to believe him, and so you did.

Alastor hummed cheerfully as he continued to shovel dirt over his most recent victim. He was certainly far enough into the woods not to care too much about being overheard, anyway.

A sudden soft beeping noise joined his melody, and he looked down at his—rather expensive—watch.

"Would you look at the time! I hadn't realized it was already so late. Time surely flies when you're saving the world, right, darling?" He looked over his shoulder at your unsure form.

You stood hunched over, your back against a tree, and your arms wrapped around yourself, a fair distance from the man burying a body.

Your eyes avoided the hole in the dirt as you painted a strained smile on your face.

Saving the world.

Alastor could practically see the way you tried to remind yourself that that is what your husband was doing.

"It's hard to keep track when you've got a lot do," You vaguely answer, choosing your words carefully.

It's not that you worried Alastor would do anything to you. But you were, unknowingly, cautious of any single thing that could trigger any more silly concerns within yourself.

Alastor hummed in response, his eyes staring at the mangled corpse he threw in the ditch. "They'll be looking for me at work if I don't show up soon, though." He thought out loud. "But I can't exactly leave this rotten stiff like this, can I?"

He sounded troubled. He looked troubled, with that wrinkle between his brow.

A good wife would soothe him.

A good wife wouldn't stand around watching her spouse do all the hard work.

He didn't need to say it though, not that he had any mind to. You heard his voice in your head regardless.

Your timid, unsure voice spoke up. "I...I could stay behind and continue burying it?" It sounded like a question.

One that it seemed like you hoped the answer was no.

Except you'd be a horrible wife for thinking that. You should be praying that he'd say yes.

After all, a good wife would do anything to help her husband.

Alastor froze for a second, his eyes catching yours from above his glasses before he adjusted them up his nose.

Then you were rewarded with a smile.

"My darling wife, always so helpful," He cooed, walking towards you. He dropped the shovel to the ground and wrapped his arms around your waist, almost lovingly.

Alastor could feel how fast your heart beat in your chest, almost fighting to get out. "But I could never ask a lovely doll like you to do such a dirty job like this." He tsked as he looked down at you.

"I can handle it, my dear," You responded, eyes bright with stars at his praises. It was almost as if you'd forgotten what exactly it was you were agreeing to.

Alastor pretended to think for a moment, but his eyes caught sight of the watch on his wrist and decided he didn't exactly have time to enjoy playing with you more.

"Only if you promise not to get caught, my darling." He smiled down at you, and you quickly nodded, promising you'll do a good job and meet him at home.

He pressed his cold lips chastely against your forehead, and left you with a corpse in the woods to bury.

But it's just that, anyway. Nothing too much to ask for.

It's not like you killed him.

And he was probably a horrible person to begin with.

Right?

You brushed away the heavy, gnawing feeling, as you met the glassy unseeing eyes of the corpse in the ground.

Alastor surely knew what he was doing. And you loved him enough to do this simple thing to help with that.

Just as you shoveled in one patch of dirt to cover the man's eyes, you heard a loud gun shot echo through the early morning woods.

You jumped out of your skin, cold hands gripping the shovel as the sound rung out.

Your heart was at your throat as goosebumps littered your skin.

Alastor.

You ran. You barely registered your own body moving until you felt the cold air whipping against your face as your legs carried you to where your husband went.

Worry. It all but consumed you, as your blood rushed loudly in your ears and your heart pounded.

Please be okay. Please be okay.

Please—

You didn't know what you were doing. You didn't recall it. You didn't feel any of it.

You remembered seeing your husband's body collapsed and bloodied on the forest floor.

You remembered seeing someone with a gun standing panicked over him.

But no, you didn't remember when you ran at the culprit.

You didn't remember the feeling of stabbing the shovel into their side, nor the warmth of their blood as it splashed on your cold skin.

You didn't remember bashing the steel against their skull with all your might; the metal dented and morphed as it disfigured the man's face.

You didn't remember screaming until your throat was raw. You didn't remember the tears scrolling down your bloodied cheeks. You didn't remember the horrible, unbearably cold, ache in your chest.

You didn't remember staring down the barrel of a shaky gun.

You didn't remember dying.

All you remembered, was the feeling of Alastor's warm arms embracing you as he pressed his welcoming lips to your forehead.

And how you knew you'd never feel it again.

At least, you didn't think you would.

You blinked in confusion as you stared up the man—thing?—that caught you in their arms like a bride.

"I guess someone ought to rewrite those wedding vows because death didn't seem to do us part!" It laughed. Its voice sounded as if you were merely listening to it from a radio.

No, wait. Sure the thing that caught you also laughed, but you could have sworn you heard a whole crowd do so as well. Strangely, almost like a laugh track.

It's sharp yellow teeth showed proudly as it grinned down on you, and you couldn't help but cringe away a tiny bit from fear.

What are you? You wanted to ask, but you knew better than to be blunt.

You wouldn't want those nasty paper folk to catch wind of Alastor's little wife being rude—

Except. Were you still his wife? Where was he anyway? Where were you?

The thing that held you laughed cheerfully as it gently set you down onto your own feet. "Darling, I will never get enough of how easy you are to read," The thing said, twirling it's cane—microphone?—in it's hand before it leaned on it to study you.

You got a strangely familiar heavy feeling in your gut, but before you could think much of it, your arm was looped through its as it pulled you along to a shop window.

"It seems you're a tiny bit confused, my darling," It said with a bright smile. "It's alright, you weren't always the brightest bulb in the room, but you certainly made up for it with your passion." It chuckled, once again a laugh track following its words from seemingly nowhere.

You felt the tip of its microphone at your chin, tilting it so that you'd turn your gaze from him to the shop window.

You almost jumped away, like an animal not recognizing itself in the mirror.

It took you a minute to realize that you looked at your own reflection.

You even waved your hands around and tilted your head to make sure it followed your movements. To make sure this was real.

You looked nothing like yourself. Hell, you looked nothing human.

"Truthfully, I'm a little offended, dear." The thing beside you spoke up, now turning to his own reflection as he adjusted his bowtie and dusted off his red pinstriped suit. Something oddly familiar.

"It took me less than a second to recognize you, and you still seem to not even know who I am." It said, glancing at you from the corner of its bright red eyes.

Your gaze trailed up to the top of its red hair, seeing two small horns—at least that's what you thought they were.

"The devil?" You asked cautiously, still confused. "Am I in Hell?"

It let out a hum at your response. "One of two. I suppose it's one of your better shots, my dear." It said.

It turned to face you, suddenly leaning down close, so as to have it's mouth right by your ear. Your body freezes on instinct as it spoke.

"Must I really bed you again for you to remember me, darling? Or would watching me bury another body be enough to jog your memory?"

You leaned back, only enough to catch a look at the thing's face. The knowing eyes that seemed so warm, so inviting, so charming, despite how monstrous they looked. The smile that seemed incapable of falling.

The familiar feeling that brewed in your gut.

"Alastor?" You asked, your now clawed hands reached up to caress his cheeks, and the thing—your husband—leaned into it. His eyes briefly closed.

"Took you long enough, really." He said, a joking exasperation in his tone.

The thing—your husband, you had to remind yourself again—abruptly pulled away, his tone bright and cheery as he began to drag you along the streets with a heavy clawed hand on the small of your back. "Now enough of that! Time for more important business, darling!"

"Wait, Alastor? How? What?" You stammered, attempting to pull away to take a second to breathe and clear your head.

The hand that guided you slid to the side of your waist, pulling you tightly against it's Alastor's side. "Ah, my darling thing. Always so slow on the uptake." He shook his head as if he found it adorable. "We're in Hell, dear!"

The words rang loudly in your ears, your heart sinking to your stomach.

"And we have important business to take care of, yes indeed!" Alastor continued, not letting you process a single thought. "And for this, I'll need a partner I can trust! I'll need a partner who I can rely on! I'll need someone absolutely devoted to me." His eyes met yours but he saw how the alarm still outweighed his words.

His eyes narrowed, lowering his face abruptly to yours, to the point where you could feel his breath on your skin. He wanted your attention, all of it, and didn't really care all that much about what else you had to think about.

"Hellooo? Anybody home?" He joked, tilting his head as he saw your eyes come back to focus on him. "Ah, there you are, dear. Thought I lost you for a moment."

You supposed you could think things through later. Even if Alastor looked terribly different now, this was still your caring husband after all. And he needed something.

A devoted parter? Was that what he said?

"Well, you know I'm always here for you, Al. Whatever this plan of yours is." You tried to paint a smile on your lips as you always have.

"Oh, but how exactly do I know that?" Alastor stood back up to his full height, his head tilting as he smiled down at you.

Your brows furrow. You don't quite know how to tell him that. You swore you've done so much for this man, and yet when trying to think of an example, none came to mind.

You cooked and cleaned and looked pretty for him? Spent time with him? Loved him? Lie for him? Hide a body for him? That's just what a good wife would do.

But you supposed—you think—you killed for him.

"I avenged you?" It came out more of a question than an answer. "I killed for you."

Alastor didn't blink as he responded. "Then do it again."

Your mouth ran dry.

Had you heard him correctly? Was it a joke?

You waited for the laugh track to play but none came.

"What do you mean...exactly?" You asked with a nervous laugh, your lips straining to keep the smile.

"Kill for me again," Alastor casually said. He turned, eyes locking onto a random demon further down the street you walked along on. He raised his microphone to point at them, turning his head—unnaturally—to face you again.

"Like that one. I suppose he'll do." His tone was still as cheerful as ever.

You follow to where he pointed, eyes hesitantly looking at the creature.

You quickly looked back up to meet your husband's gaze. That feeling was there again.

And you weren't sure if it was the fact that you just died, or the sheer lunacy of the request, but you finally realized what it was.

Doubt.

You doubted Alastor.

"Why?" Your voice was small. "Is he a bad person too?"

Alastor rolled his eyes. "Hell, if I know dear. I've only just seen him now. But we are in Hell, you know?" His shoulders casually shrugged as if he didn't really care. "So, maybe?"

You tried to hide the tremble in your voice. Tried to hide how you doubted him. "But I already killed for you. Why do I need to prove my devotion even more?"

"You killed out of passion, darling. It hardly counts." He laughed, as if you were being so silly.

You're left with even more questions when Alastor grabbed your wrist, and you melted into shadows before re-appearing right in front of your supposed victim.

"What the fuck?" They exclaimed, jumping back.

"Good day, good fellow! The name's Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you, quite the pleasure!" Your darling husband stepped in front and forcibly shook the confused sinner's hand.

Alastor waved a hand in your direction to showcase you. "This right here is the Mrs., and she'll be killing you now."

You flinched as Alastor's voice further distorted.

Black tentacles wrapped around the now thrashing demon. And to your horror, you realized they came from your still-grinning husband's back.

His red eyes now consumed by black as he looked down at you expectantly.

"I...I don't have a knife." You avoided his eyes and looked away.

Alastor's head tilted. "You have claws now, dear."

You felt bile raise to your throat at the idea of ripping some stranger apart with your own hands.

"It'd be terribly difficult if these clothes get stained. Who knows where I could get new ones in...Hell." You had to spit the word out. "A-and, we're out in the open. Anyone can see us, there might be police here o-or their friends and family."

"You won't do it." Alastor cut off your rambling, more of a statement than a question.

You didn't meet his eyes.

You heard him sigh in dismay. "Well, it's alright, my dear. I suppose I knew your love for me had its limits."

Your eyes widen in shock, head whipping to look at him in panic. There was disappointment in his gaze as he looked away from you. Even as his smile remained painted on his lips, you could see how he seemed to shrink away from you.

"That's not true!" You half yelled, ignoring the struggling demon still held off the ground. "I'd go to the ends of the earth for you. I'd give up my life for you. I followed you to Hell, even! How could you even think that my love for you isn't boundless, Alastor?"

"Because it isn't." He sighed, his clawed hand gripped his microphone tight as he started to walk around you. "You say you'd do anything for me, that you'd give everything up for me. But I'm asking you for something so simple, and you couldn't even do that."

Your shoulders stiffen, you try to turn your head to follow him around. "This is not simple, Alastor." You said, a tinge of hysteria creeping into your voice. "You're asking me to kill someone for you, again."

"Wrong." Your husband said in a rather, sing-song manner. A jarring buzzer effect played at his words.

"I'm asking you to kill someone who is already dead." Alastor explained, barely paying mind to the sinner who now just looked very uncomfortable. "And you're already in Hell."

He looked at you as if you were stupid not to have put this together yourself. "He won't lose anything. You won't lose anything. There is nothing to give up with this tiny request of mine."

He stopped walking in front of you, but a greater deal of distance away now than when he started.

"And yet you can't even do that, my love."

You glanced down at your hands—your claws—in uncertainty.

That persistent feeling—doubt—swallowed you whole as you stood there willing your body not to move.

You should stop.

Run.

Never look back.

But instead your body moved toward the sinner; sharp, shaking, hands hesitatingly sinking into their flesh.

Once. Twice. Thrice. You couldn't be useless to your husband.

Their muffled screams sounded so far away from you, even as they yelled right by your ears.

You felt it.

Their skin giving way and the blood dampening your clothes each and every time you sank your soft, delicate, clawed hands into him.

The feeling of your long claws coming into contact and tearing through whatever bone or muscle stood in their way.

The awful, gut wrenching, guilt that swallowed your chest.

You hated it.

Alastor's hand clasps affectionately at your shoulder as he watched you cheerfully. Enjoying the conflict in your eyes as your heart died with every drop of blood that spilled from your hands.

"I think I may have just fallen so deeply in love with you, my dear wife." He cooed into your ear.

And your chest didn't flutter, or grow, or skip a beat like you had thought it would at those words.

But it's probably just the guilt, right?

It's just because so much has happened that you couldn't process anything.

Because you still loved Alastor, didn't you?

You loved him with your very soul, but he was a liar, and you may have finally started to see it.

Taglist @lil-bexie / @mizukikyong / @amurtan / @fokrilove / @fairyv-ice

#tw: murder and violence #tw: physical harm to reader #tw: major character death #tw: heavy manipulation #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #vien writes #Finding the right amount of old timey phrases to toss in without it sounded so cheesy is always such a challenge #Also this got out of hand I swore this fic was not meant to be this long or even in two parts #but here we are

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antimony-medusa · 1 year

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One of the things that I think sometimes gets lost when we talk about what's appropriate in fandom spaces is the notion that things can be appropriate in one space, but not for another. And that doesn't mean that the thing that's inappropriate in that setting is wrong, it just means that it's rude in that space. I think people want a single set of rules that's appropriate everywhere, but the thing is, you have to be able to assess the situation, and adjust your behaviour accordingly.

So an example. I have a fairly popular text post that was me asking about c!phil and religion in all innocence, and someone said "the only thing I have to say about c!phil is that he worships on his knees, thank you and goodnight". And I reblogged it like "I can't believe I forgot about how this fandom does phil analysis", cause it was at the height of the dilfza memes.

Anyways that's obviously a phil-is-happily-married/oral sex joke, in an oblique innuendo way, and on this site, where Phil is not here, and his friends are not here, with it being clear I was talking about the block man character, and we make jokes about sex and profanity (a very popular url scheme for a long time was "[name]shugecock" (or smalldick, depending on the joke)— that's a fine joke to make. I'm an adult, I can make sex jokes about fictional characters on the sex joke fictional character social media site.

If I was to make that joke in Philza's twitch chat, a) in his face, b) with his wife modding, c) in an enviroment where people aren't prepped for sex jokes, d) with it being not clear if I was talking about the cubito or about the real guy, that would be wildly inappopriate. I would be banned in every chat Philza mods in and I would deserve it.

That doesn't mean that it's inappropriate to make the joke in the first place though, just because I wouldn't do it at a Phil meet and greet. It means you gotta learn to read the room. (And like, sometimes it's hard to learn to read the room, but you can do it by pure brute-force memorization. I did.)

This is the same theory that underlies the fact that you can call your friends a bitch in a friendly way, because you are friends and you know each other's boundaries, but if you call your boss a bitch, you will be fired. There are rules about workplace appropriateness, and there are rules about what's appropriate in front of kids (I teach teens, I do not swear in front of them, I swear a LOT in front of my roommate), and there are rules about what's appropriate in different fandom spaces. Participating in an exchange about pregnancy and babies with your favourite blorbo of the moment? Great. Showing the actor gift art you got of him pregnant? No. Bad. Go directly to jail, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars.

The thing that concerns me is that I think there are slight signs that as we get more comfortable with sexy jokes and offcolour remarks as a MCYT fandom (QSMP is the big banner example but it happens with other smps), we're taking what's appropriate in one space (tumblr, home of the brain worms, where I have seen the blog "philzaswetpussy" on my dash), and we're bringing it into places that it's not appropriate (sure, slimeariana is clearly canon, but maybe don't put the actual dicks-out fan art in the art tag on twitter that slime checks). Cause we can obviously tell that the rules twitter is going with are silly for here, so it's full speed ahead for roier/spreen etc, but the trick here is that it's full speed ahead HERE, or in fandom servers, and not necessarily in the streamer's faces.

We have a bunch of situations where creators have said that it's not their place to weigh in on shipping or nsfw etc, and people have taken that as a go ahead and that's fine, but thats still something where I'd like, caution people that just because they said "not gonna look at it not my deal", that doesn't mean that like, you should make it difficult for them to avoid looking at it. Talking about scitties is an honourable tradition, but telling scar that he makes you question your sexuality in his TTS— I made a horrified noise in real life and the cats came to look at me.

And I'm talking about the shipping, but this is also a thing with like— sometimes I see a streamer and I go "my friend you just vividly described neurodivergent symptoms" but it is ABSOLUTELY not my place to say that in their chat. It might not even be appropriate to make comments about it on my blog, with the amount of followers I have. I have to keep the "streamer just described the ADHD experience again :pensive:" comments for the group chat. And we all nod and go "yeah sounds like streamer", and we do not put it in his face, cause that's inappropriate.

We get to have fun with the fictional characters, including off-colour fun, but we still have to remember that there are real people who don't know us who are steering those fictional characters around, and it can be profoundly weird to see some of the (stuff that is appropriate in fandom spaces!) just up in your face in the regular fan art tag.

Just think about the space you're in, and who you're in front of, and if a CC notice is actually likely, and if a CC notice would be Very Bad actually with what you're doing, and keep the "world's sluttiest absent father" bracket (with associated slutty fan art) for here, not with the streamer tagged on twitter.

#discourse #medusas banger posts #fandom meta

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jooba · 14 days

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wolfman x reader

"Imagine getting the great news that you're one of a million civilians chosen to go to a distant planet, to intermingle with the local aliens. Unfortunately, your online friend doesn't exactly seem to like that idea."

TW: MDNI, reader referred to as 'girl', sexual desires, anxiety, neurodivergent reader, reader big dumb, licking, 'virgin' reader, hand appreciation

wordcount: 2,388

Three words: Civilian Space Program. The most incredible opportunity of a lifetime (for an average Joe like you).

One word: Congratulations! The letter you held in your shaking hands almost didn’t seem real. It was glossy, professional, and signed by someone so important that it was a 100% probability that you would never breathe the same air as them. Congratulations! But it was real, and your life would never be the same. You were going to space. To meet aliens. Your poor little heart almost couldn’t take it. Breath labored, you quickly snapped a picture of the letter before posting it to all of your socials. Quickly, friends and family bombarded you with questions and excitement, just as in disbelief as you are. Several phone calls later, and plenty of assurances to those with concerns, you fell back onto your couch, still clutching the letter. In just a month, you would be boarding a vessel with 14 other civilians, shipped off to the planet Geron 6GI, and left there for 3 years to “create relations” and “cultivate a human lifestyle”. Whatever that means. All you knew was that you… were a monsterfucker… and… well… aliens are sort of like monsters too.

In your elation, you nearly missed the newest comment on your Instagram post. It was Peter, an online friend whom you had known for years. It simply said, “call me.” Peter knew about the program and how badly you wanted to be in it, but he was pretty adamant that your chances were too low. Smiling, you dialed his number. He answered on the first ring, speaking before you had a chance to.

“This is serious? You’re serious?”

“Of course! I’m freaking out, Peter. I’m going to SPACE. I’m going to fuck so many aliens, you don't even know. Well, you do know, but-”

“You’re leaving in a month?” He asked. You kicked your legs in glee, squealing.

“Yep! 3 years in space and depending on how the program goes it might go on for longer. God, should I bring my toys? Do you think they’ll even be allowed on the flight? But what if the aliens have toys that I can buy…” Your breath hitched just at the thought. There was silence on his end for a few moments.

“You’re a virgin.” Cheeks turning red, you scoffed into your phone.

“So what?”

“So you’re giving yourself away to some random alien?” He hissed the word lowly, talking in a manner you had never heard from him before. You take a second to collect your thoughts, not understanding where his aggression is coming from.

“Peter… we live in the 21st century. Virginity is a stupid construct. Besides, I uh... I’m not really a virgin, you know.”

“What?”

“Ugh, can we not talk about this? So embarrassing…” You mumble, turning to a more comfortable position on the couch. There was silence as both of you struggled with what to say next. It wasn’t like you were actually embarrassed talking about sexual things, but Peter had a way of making your stomach flutter. It was awful having a mini crush on someone online, and even worse when he insisted on hearing all the details of your life. All the details.

“I’m going to come see you.” He said, sighing into the phone. You froze, blinking in surprise. The two of you had never met in real life before, you’ve never even seen a picture of him! Sometimes, you would discuss meeting, but he lived a long flight away and schedules never seemed to work out. Over time, the thought of seeing him in person became too daunting, and you always shot him down. What if he thought you were too ugly to be friends with? What if the two of you couldn’t get along in person, and he lost interest?

“A-are you sure, Peter?” You could hear the smile in his voice as he responded.

“Of course.”

You stood nervously in the airport, shifting back and forth. People kept glancing at you, giving you curious glances. Avoiding eyes with an old troll whose beard desperately needed maintenance, you wiped the sweat from your face with your sleeve. Maybe you’d be less nervous if you had brought a friend with you to pick up Peter… Your phone buzzed with a text.

landing now

You watch as the terminal quickly fills up with tired travelers. Eyes swiping back and forth from person to person, you attempt to pick out a man to match Peter’s description of himself. But his description was so vague, all you really knew was that apparently he was tall and had brown hair.

Someone bumps into you, and your phone clatters to the ground. They quickly apologize but scurry away too quickly for you to get a good look at them. Grumbling, you bend down to pick up your phone, dusting it off and checking for cracks. When your eyes lift, your heart explodes in surprise at the wolfman standing before you. Hot! Inner you squeals. Standing nearly two heads taller than you, he’s lean and dressed very cleanly. Chestnut-colored fur streaks around his cheeks and neck, speckled with darker colors around his hairline and dipping underneath his shirt. Black eyes peer at you, squinting slightly.

“Oh, um. Hi!” You laugh nervously, tugging at your hair. “Just dropped my phone.” You wave your phone in front of you, but then quickly tuck it away when you realize how dumb you probably looked. The wolfman’s mouth slowly curls up into a predatory smile, top lip slightly gaped to allow for pointy fangs to peek through.

“You’re cute,” he says quietly, eyes appraising your figure. You have to desperately ignore the urge to cover yourself from his evaluating gaze. You laugh weakly.

“T-thanks.” You give him a small smile. The two of you stare at each other for a moment. He hikes his backpack up over his shoulders, raising one eyebrow at you. Does he want something from you…? Oh god. Despite his good looks, it’s not the best time to be flirting with someone: not when you’re waiting for Peter.

“I’m sorry. I’m.. uh… picking up a friend. Sorry.” You glance away from him, pretending to search the crowd for Peter. Why is he taking so long?

The wolfman grumbles with quiet laughter, almost a mixture of a purr and low-pitched whine. It's a rather charming sound. Suddenly, his clawed hand is on your scalp, rubbing against your hair to mess it up. He tugs certain strands this way and that, causing an absolute mess. You gasp, pulling away, quickly attempting to fix the mess he just made.

“You’re even denser in person than I thought you would be,” he says, looking extremely satisfied at your misery. His ears twitch slightly. You pause, squinting up at him in irritation.

“Well, that’s rude. And please don’t touch my hair, I don’t know you.” You take a step back away from him in caution just to be safe.

The wolfman huffs, rolling his eyes slowly. “That’s the thing. You do know me.” He pulls his phone out, and types onto it quickly, before looking at you expectantly. Your phone buzzes. A message from Peter.

right in front of you. so dense.

You can’t quiet the gasp that leaves your mouth in time. You gape up at him, astonished.

“You never told me you were a wolfman!?!”

Heart racing, you bring your knuckle up to your mouth and light chew on a finger. All these years, all the calls and long talks and he never thought to mention his species?! Oh god, you have said so many embarrassing things to him: things you would never say to a non-human. Things about giant monster cocks and clawed hands and fluffy sensitive ears and oh my GOD. You swear heat is steaming out of your ears with how embarrassed you are.

“Didn’t think it mattered,” he shrugs. He reaches up to lightly scratch at one fluffy ear, maintaining eye contact with you. It twitches at his touch, apparently sensitive. You want to coo and squeal at how cute it is, but you restrain, just barely. Gnawing on your finger, you avert your eyes. You must not look at the handsome wolfman. Must resist. Must get Peter home without drowning in your drool…

One car ride home, hours of gentle ribbing and teasing, a desperate call to the nearest fast food joint, and a change into pajamas later, you find yourself sitting on your couch, a bowl of popcorn in hand, waiting patiently for Peter to join you. He’s taking a long time in the bathroom, but you’re not too worried. It seemed your apartment was a bit too small for him, and he was constantly ducking his head and squeezing past your furniture. Admittedly, it was really charming. You can’t help but shovel popcorn into your face as you wait. You can’t wait too long, otherwise the popcorn will get stale! In the middle of licking your fingers free from butter and salt, Peter plops down next to you. You slide down the couch and end up sitting right against you. He wraps an arm around you on the couch, hands already playing with your hair. He’s dressed in loose pajama pants and a t-shirt that says ‘You are fang-tastic!’ in faded letters.

“Really couldn’t wait for me, huh.” You smile in embarrassment, pulling your fingers out of your mouth. His dark eyes quickly zero in on your glistening fingers. Grimacing, you go to wipe them on your pants, but his hand wraps around your wrist before you can. You immediately notice how much bigger his hand is than yours, and how fur wraps around his knuckles but his fingers and palm are bare.

“Let me,” he purrs, eyes drooping into half lids. He opens his mouth and a long, pink tongue rolls out. It’s rounded at the end and fades into a slight purple the further back it gets. You’re instantly drawn to it and watch in stunned silence as he brings your fingers up to his mouth. He licks a long stripe up your fingers before twisting and turning them to lap at every inch. Quickly, your fingers become drenched in hot saliva. You clench your thighs, wishing he would put that tongue somewhere else… A soft noise leaves you, and he meets your eyes again. You mentally berate yourself for having dirty thoughts about your friend. He nips gently at your pointer finger. You squeak and pull your hand away, face certainly red. You hold your hand to your chest limply, now drenched in saliva. You blink at him, words caught in your throat.

“Mmm… tastes good.” Right. Good popcorn. Ha ha… ha… The TV blares and the two of you startle at the noise. Peter is quick to grab the remote and mute it. He watches the quiet television for a moment, throat bobbing.

“Let’s talk for a moment, space girl.” His voice is almost... uncertain. You grin unabashedly at the nickname, pleased. It immediately calms you down and you find yourself relaxing.

“Sure!” You place the popcorn down and turn on the couch, facing him directly. He turns to face you as well, one leg crossing over the other. The arm around the back of the couch begins to tap on the cushion.

“Just let me talk for a moment, no interruptions, okay?” He raises an eyebrow when you open your mouth to respond, and you huff, but stay quiet.

“Honestly, I thought I was being pretty straightforward with you all this time, but with this space fiasco, I knew you weren’t exactly getting the message. Had to talk to you face-to-face. I’ll make this short and sweet, easy to understand. I don’t want you going to space.” He raises one hand when you look like you are about to object. Breathing deeply, he continues.

“Don’t go to space. Stay here. I’ll give you all the monster cock you want, promise… I’m not usually one to wait so long, but I knew during our first call I would have to take it slow with you. I’ve been biding my time all these years, slowly getting to know you, waiting for my chance. And then I saw your post. When I saw that, it left me ‘peterified’.” He chuffs at his joke, pleased.

“So yeah, I’ve got feelings for you. And a lot of them revolve around ramming my cock down your throat. Or god, knotting you,” he sighs wistfully as he speaks. He looks like he wants to say more, but stops himself.

Ho….ly…. SHIT! You’re frozen on the spot, mind racing with a thousand dirty thoughts. You’ve dreamt of this moment, dreamt of a monster desiring you. And now…now you’re presented with an opportunity.

“F-forget space! Oh my god. Peter? Peter!” You’re squealing now, your body shaking with excitement. You stand up and begin pacing, not even really aware of what you’re doing. Peter relaxes on the couch, mouth tilted up in a sly smile.

“This is crazy. Are you serious? He’s serious. I-I need to shave! And prep! Oh god, I don’t know if I’m ready for this…” You bite at your finger nervously, the beginnings of nausea twisting your stomach. Who knew that aching and wanting something for so long would have you feeling so sick?

Peter tugs at your hand, slowing your pacing.

“You’re getting ahead of yourself, you nut. Just breathe.” He breathes in deeply, and you copy him instinctually. He guides your breath into something much slower, much more manageable. You smile at him gratefully, falling onto the couch.

“Sorry, this is just… a lot,” you sigh out. He shakes his head.

“Not at all. Just take it easy.” He nudges your knee with his. “Just think about it, yeah?” You nudge him back, eyes twinkling.

“So, all this time you’ve…” you question. He simply nods his head.

“But you didn’t even know what I looked like?” You're surprised when his face starts to turn a gentle shade of red. He coughs into his fist, looking away. He speaks, in a cool tone that doesn’t match his cheeks, “Yeah, I knew right from the start. Your looks are just a plus.”

Aaand now you’re looking away, embarrassed.

“Oh, okay,” you mumble.

#suggest TW #monster fucker #wolfman x reader #monster x reader #sorry #hmmm should i write more for Peter?#x reader #not a werewolf #MDNI #monster/alien/human society #not proofread #its 2 am

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itstheghostofmypast · 1 month

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♧14.05♧

University Student Choi San x (F)Reader ft.Yuyu

Summary: Jealousy is but a natural trait, especially when your bro gettin' a bit too comfy with your butterfly.

Genre: Fluff

Rating: SFW

Warnings: None

Word Count: 943

Est. Read Time: 5 min

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels

Banner: @cafekitsune

A/N: I was supposed to upload Meow ch4 today, but it's still not done :( But here's a timestamp inspired by @edenesth

Yunho sat across her, working silently, well naturally they were in the library, and had to finish this project because she was ever so kind enough to request him if they could finish this a bitter early, explaining how the due date was the same day as her boyfriend's birthday and she really wanted to spend the day with him and not do this project.

Naturally, he agreed, any friend of hers is a friend of his- that and she was literally talking about San, his roommate, so he'd seen the two together a couple of times, they'd even invite him for dinner sometimes, she was nice and San was happy- that's all that mattered to him.

An hour turned into two, then three, and the two were still compiling and researching. He'd glance at her, mumbling to herself, eying her notes, then looking back at his barely readable notes, then getting back into the rhythm.

It was all good until he began to feel something burn into him, like a piercing gaze that had him fixed in spot, sneakily glancing to see if it were her, he realised it wasn't, she was still mumbling to herself. Then who was it? He realised the chair next to her was now occupied, the person was sitting extremely close to her, San wouldn't have liked that, turning to sit up properly and ask the intruder in the fuzzy grey jacket to keep distance he locked eyes with a pair that was glaring at him- San?

Ever so slowly he saw the man raised his arm, reaching over to wrap it around his girlfriend's shoulders, startling her before giving her a sheepish smile for a second, only to glare back at Yunho when she went back to work, his arm still around her.

"You're an idiot." Is all Yunho said before glancing at her, knowing she couldn't hear them. She was too busy blasting whatever song she could find at this point.

"And she's taken -"

"And she's finishing her work early so she can spend time with you on your birthday," he smiled, resting his chin on his palm as he gave him a gentle smile, one that tried to neutralise the judgemental look in his eyes, "You know...for when you turn FIVE Sannie."

In an instant, the other man's expressions softened, morphing into a pout, trying to gain the elder one's forgiveness, though he earned only an eye roll in return, followed by a, "You and Seonghwa need to calm down." That's because of each man's significant other shared more than just a few classes with Yuyu- truth be told Yunho was their senior, but the two took advanced courses, so the real problem was that they were dating two idiots. With that, he got up, collecting his things and packing up.

She pulled off her headphones, glancing at San before looking up at Yunho, worried that he was upset she made him spend three hours of his only free day in the library, "I-I'm almost done, I can compile the work whenever you send it-" though he smiled at her, shaking his head, "No, you just finish it and send it to me, I'll compile it later tonight and then we can turn it in."

"Oh my gosh, thank you, Yuyu~" her little nickname had San tighten his hold on her, though she didn't notice, too concerned about getting free time to spend with her giant idiot.

"It's my pleasure." The golden boy smile at her, watching her put her headphones back on and getting back to work, only to turn and glare at San who was glaring back at him, though his glare faltered when Yunho raised an eyebrow, clearing his throat and averting his gaze for a split second, only to gasp when he saw how Yunho had flipped him off, mouthing, "Grow up."

He quickly turned to his butterfly. Did she see? Did she see how horrendous and demonic that man was? He was no innocent Yuyu, but a spawn sent down by Satan, himself. Though all he saw was her typing away with a greater determination, all so she could spend time with him. Sighing, he pulled her closer, encasing her in a side hug, ignoring how she was protesting and whispering, "Excuse me, Sir! I need to finish this! San, San move!"

And he did let her go, only after forcing her to wear his fluffy grey jacket, so everyone would know she was taken- he had class anyway, so he had only dropped by to check on her because she didn't respond to his text spams or picked up his calls- oh...he did come here only after Yunho had disclosed the location.

Huffing to himself, he pressed a chaste kiss on the top of her head, moving the headpiece to whisper in her ear about his class before covering it with the hood of the jacket.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he walked out of the library walking towards his class, thinking of what to get Yuyu as a thank you present for taking care of his girl in class, maybe dinner? Or a restraining order to keep him away from HIS girl. Chuckling to himself he walked into his class, Choi San, you comedian, no wonder she likes you, you're so funny.

"You at the back, is something funny?"

"No S- Yunho?"

"No, that's Sir Jeong to you, professor Kim sent me as a guest lecturer for this class, now why dont you give us a sumamry of what you all have done ....for the past whole semester."

"Shit"

He should really get that restraining order.

Taglist: @edenesth @yessa-vie @marsvillee @mlysalt @spooo00oky @the-kpop-simp

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river-bottom-nightmare · 2 months

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the two of the had always treated it as one big joke, was the thing. bruce and dick would put on a show together: a stumbling, overly-friendly yet well-intentioned gatsby and his young ward with a sweet tongue and an artful smile. laugh a little too loud, bat the eyes, play up the youth, and they had gotham eating out of their palms. it was fun, a punchline only the two of them were ever in on.

"that was a good one," bruce said, voice warm, deftly removing his cufflinks. "the bit with mrs. arlington's cosmetic surgery was particularly inspired."

"i thought so!" dick chirped back. his suit jacket was already draped over a chair in the sitting room, shoes flung off. "i mean, what could i possibly know about the divorce rumors."

bruce hummed in amused agreement. "i always forget how tiring brucie wayne is to play, though," he said. "for someone who doesn't exist, he's quite the effort."

right then, though, a quiet ripple of alarm went through dick. "wait, what do you mean brucie doesn't exist? what do you mean he's an effort?"

"i mean he's not...he's not real, dick. you know this." bruce shot him a confused glance. "he's a fiction i have to endure on occasion. having you there does make the theatre much more bearable, though."

"of cource brucie wayne is real. he's you!"

bruce was staring at him now, the tired comfort from a successful night wiped from his face. he was just confused, and more than a little concerned. heart on his cheek , always, helplessly (to dick, anyway). "it's just a performance, dick. it doesn't mean anything. you are well aware—"

but dick cut him off, shaking his head. "nothing is ever just a performance, b. that's not what performance is!"

and it killed him, gutted him that bruce didn't understand this, that he had failed to grasp 'brucie wayne' was poetic, was almost victorian, was a masterclass in crafting a mask around a kernel of truth. was the kind of murder you watched a play just to revel in at the end.

"i don't see how it isn't," bruce said, speaking very carefully. "the version of bruce wayne the public sees is a persona. his very existence is to perform the function of deceit."

"deceit?" dick said incredulously, almost laughing with it. "performing isn't deceit, bruce. and that's not what you're doing either." he jabbed a finger in bruce's general direction. "you way overplay how harmless brucie is, but you're not hardline serious all the time. with me and with other kids you meet on patrol, you're gentle."

"that isn't—"

dick kept steamrolling over him. "and sure, brucie is ridiculous sometimes. but you didn't pull that silliness out of thin air, did you? no, because you're playful with me and alfred."

"how i behave with you and alfred isn't a performance though, dick," bruce explained. "that's simply...well. that's who i am when i'm not pretending to be someone else."

"that's what you're missing, b. a performance isn't you pretending to be someone else. you're exaggerating certain parts of yourself like crazy, but at the heart of it all, you're still you."

"why does this affect you so much?" bruce asked. "you're hurting." you're hurting because of me, went unsaid. it wasn't an apology, but it was the closest dick was going to get.

"because brucie is bruce in all the ways that matter, and bruce is my best friend," dick said simply. "don't you dare tell me my best friend doesn't exist!"

bruce was still tense, though. like his heart was a step behind his head, like was a dandelion seed and the wind was unsure. so dick did what he should have done at the beginning of his whole ordeal: went over to him and looped his arms over his waist in a hug, as high as they would go.

"performing is a little tiring, but like batman is," dick mumbled into bruce's shirt. "it isn't a chore you gotta get through. it's an art, and you should have fun with it! because every show you put on is you basically just exaggerating different parts of yourself. you're not creating anyone new."

bruce reached down to hug dick in return, holding him close and sure, strength and sinew and sharing it all. "dick," he said honestly, "that sounds exhausting."

"yeah. but it's worth it," dick said in return. "you always perform for a reason. brucie exists 'cause you want to help people."

"i suppose that desire's real enough," bruce said, gentle. "in that case, thank you."

"for what?"

"for being my best friend, no matter the performance."

---

hahaha noooo being a performer from a young age hasn't impacted me or dick in any way at all we've got a perfectly normal relationship with performance i promise

anyway look guys!!! i wrote a thing!!! first time in forever idk my writing's rusty but i hope yall like it regardless. lmk if i should pop the taglist back in here i'm pretty sure half the people on that thing forgot i existed

#scribbles from the swamp #dick grayson #bruce wayne #batman #robin #dc #dick grayson fic #bruce wayne fic #batman fic #robin fic #dc fic #long post

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kneelingshadowsalome · 4 months

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Please can I have a little crumblet of my hubby in therapy 😭🥰

You can have an entire snippet!! 💕💋

“Would you like to talk about these bad experiences?”

“Not really.”

He realizes he’s coming off as rude, and gruffly adds with a shrug: “There’s nothing to talk about. It was a bad experience.”

You look at him now, mirroring the up and down glance he just gave you, and he starts to shake his leg. An involuntary action that tells you he feels like this situation resembles an interrogation. When your gaze slowly drops to his boot bouncing in the air under that chair, it stops.

He doesn’t like it that he got caught being slightly nervous. He makes it clear that he knows what you just did, that you were evaluating him just with your stare, and that he doesn’t like it one bit.

You could almost swear from this little scenario alone that Simon Riley has a background that includes some form of torture.

You scribble another word on your notebook.

Hypervigilant. Suspicious?

“Do you have nightmares?”

“Sometimes.”

“What kind of nightmares?”

He takes a longish pause, directs those vigilant eyes to the floor for a moment. The leg gives another shake, then another shake.

“The regular. Trapped inside a crashed vehicle or plane. Can’t get out and then I wake up feeling like I can’t get air.”

You put it up: regular nightmares about suffocating to death.

“Then there’s the occasional dream where I strangle women.”

You pause in the middle of writing, then quickly return to what you were doing.

Okay... Okay. Nothing too unusual, you can do this. You try to keep your breaths long and even as you raise your stare and your professional compassion to him.

“Would you like to elaborate more on that?”

He huffs a dark, short chuckle.

“No. But I guess I have to.”

He thinks he has to tell you about his nightmares about hurting women only because that’s far more concerning than the occasional dreams of being caught in a death trap. Or then he wants you to say it’s ok and that they are only dreams.

You draw a breath, but it's he who speaks first.

“I would never hurt a woman in real life.”

You tilt your head, this time with genuine compassion. It’s simply the human in you: the woman in you. One of your whimsical new age friends said you're a wounded healer and that you should be careful before you start mothering another emotionally unavailable, broken man. That you ought to date someone sensible for once.

You fight the urge to shake those thoughts off – you’re not planning to date this man. You can’t date your clients, it’s the first rule of being a therapist. Well, perhaps not the first, but still, you’re not here to save–

“Don’t know what to do with those dreams. It's just… Is wha’ it is.”

You take another deep breath. “How does it–”

“Make me feel?” He huffs. It’s not what you were going to ask, but you’re pleased to see he’s being co-operative. In his own way.

“Disgusting. Makes me feel disgusted with myself.”

“These are just dreams. As long as you don’t make them reality, they’re just dreams.”

“Yeah. I know.”

Your lips draw into a thin line, and you can’t help yourself from scribbling another thing down.

Arrogant.

“What did I do now?” He asks, trying to direct the conversation elsewhere. Or then he’s genuinely curious. What was it in his Yeah, I know that was so telling, so monumental? You notice that you’re smiling softly as you draw him back to the session in hand.

“How have you dealt with these feelings of shame and disgust?”

He blinks.

“Guess I haven’t. What would doctor suggest?”

“I’m not a doctor. But I would suggest you introduce yourself to mercy every time you have these nightmares.”

“Mercy,” he repeats, a bit flabbergasted. His voice lacks the commanding, rough tone it usually has when he knows he’s one step ahead.

“Yes. How does that feel?” You could hit yourself on the forehead for using such a cliche line. You continue before he gets to return it all back to you with a jab. “Does the word mercy incite anything particular in you?”

“I dunno. Haven’t found it useful.”

His answer is typical for a soldier and a commander of his team. But you see that you’ve at least planted a seed. The word mercy will probably be on his mind even when he goes to sleep tonight.

“And why is that?”

“It’s a luxury I can’t afford,” he shrugs nonchalantly. A tough world view, as was expected, and you move on to the question everyone either hates or loves the most.

“How would you describe your childhood? Your relationship with your mother and father?”

He gives a short laugh. “That didn’t take long.”

“Some of these questions might seem unimportant right now but I hope you would answer them nonetheless. Could you do that for me?”

The last line is not your usual go, but with this client, you have a hunch that a little bit of charm might go a long way. And you just can’t help yourself. Of course, the results are immediate.

“Sure, miss,” he drags every syllable like he’s tasting champagne on his tongue. “Childhood… Not a very happy one. Father was a drinker. Cheated on my mum.”

#ghost in therapy #wips

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bitterkarella · 5 months

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Midnight Pals: Evil Computer

Harlan Ellison: so how does a guy get paid around here Edgar Allan Poe: this isn't that kind of event, harlan Poe: we just gather here to tell stories for fun Ellison: well, the rest of you might be assholes but that doesn't mean i am Ellison: not saying a fucking word here til i get my money

Harlan Ellison: what is this? some online jokester making jokes with my likeness? Ellison: oh you better hope they're paying me for this Poe: lighten up harlan it's just for fun Ellison: lightening up costs extra

Harlan Ellison: submitted for the approval of the midnight society, i call this the tale of the evil computer that can torture you forever Elon Musk: mama mia! Musk: concerning!

Ellison: who's this guy? Barker: oh that's just steve's friend elon musk King: he's not my friend Barker: he shows up sometimes King: he's not my friend

Elon Musk: eyyy Friendship ended with stephano king Musk: Now HP Lovecraft issa my best friend Lovecraft: what Musk: eyyyy hp lovacraft we lika two peasa inna pod Musk: you no lika de jews, i no lika de jews! Musk: you namma you cat a slur, i namma my kid a slur! Lovecraft: which kid? Musk: De Protocols offa de Elders of Xion Musk

Ellison: so there's this evil computer that can do anything Ellison: like, it can make you live forever just to fuck with you King: how does it make you live forever? Ellison: shut up steve, i'm talking

Ellison: like, this computer is so evil and it can make shit like Ellison: like ice caves and shit Ellison: and it can turn you into a jelly King: how does it do any of this Ellison: shut the fuck up steve Ellison: asking stupid questions costs extra

Musk: mama mia this-a evil computer will destroy ussa all! Harlan Ellison: oh you like this concept? Ellison: think its real scary huh? Ellison: motherfucker, pay me.

Musk: eyyy dissa evil super computer willa destroy ussa all Musk: therefore i musta help build it Musk: itta de only logical thing to do!

King: so apparently elon musk built an evil super computer so powerful that it can say all the slurs at once Arthur C Clarke: my god, steve!! Clarke: doesn't he know Clarke: that's the purpose of creation! Clarke: once every slur is said, God will bring the Universe to an end!

Clarke: once every slur is said, God will bring the Universe to an end! Carter Scholz: i was going to say that too Clarke: oh yeah wow real original Scholz: like, you know, as a commentary on your story Clarke: yeah i know what you're doing Clarke: eat my ass carter

Linda Yaccarino: [sweating, rictus grin] everyone loves twitter, the fun place for fun! Elon Musk: eeeyyy here-a soma my favorite slurs Musk: saracen, tinker, spaghett face, niknokker, bibblebeep Yaccarino: [sweating, rictus grin] yeah ha ha we sure love to have fun here on twitter!

Musk: eyyyy i hate de jews Musk: but i lova de israel Jonathan Greenblatt: masterful gambit, sir

#midnight pals #the midnight society #midnight society #stephen king #clive barker #edgar allan poe #hp lovecraft #harlan ellison #elon musk #carter scholz #arthur c clarke #jonathan greenblatt #linda yaccarino

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cosmolog · 5 months

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Miguel's Secret

Miles and Gwen venture into a large storage room in the spider society, finding secrets long hidden from the rest of the society by Miguel.

Enjoy!

"We shouldn't be back here. I already made a bad first impression with Miguel back there and now he's gonna want to actually kill me. Who knows? Maybe he'll throw a chair at me next time instead of food-"

"Shh" Gwen silenced him, before glancing around and shining her phone light on the various boxes that had been discarded in the room.

Her light settled on the end of the room, where a curtain had been hung from the ceiling and drawn closed, as if to hide something. She started walking towards it, only for Miles to catch a grip of her wrist.

"Miles, let go" She huffed in annoyance at her friend's protectiveness.

"What if it's something you really don't want to see?" He said, looking concerned.

"It won't be. It'll probably just be some more boxes. I wanna check though." She replied. Miles' eyes flickered between the white curtain sheet and Gwen before he sighed deeply and let go of her. He remained close behind her as she advanced to the curtains.

Gwen took a deep breath, held it, then pulled the curtain back, revealing a woman lying down on an examination table. Upon further inspection, the two realised she wasn't a human but a very realistic-looking robot, judging by the red ring on the side of her head.

Miles let out a profanity while Gwen gasped in freight. "Okay, not a dead body but still just as creepy" He whispered.

Gwen stepped closer to the robot, pressing the red ring which changed to blue, and the robot woke up...

(Switch to first person)

My eyes gently opened at the sound of voices. Two young voices, one male, one female. Both sounded scared. I slowly moved my head in their direction. I looked between the two teens, not recognising their faces. I gently sat up, after not moving in so long, I felt stiff. By now, the teenagers were less scared and more defensive.

"And who are you supposed to be?" The boy asked.

I gave him a kind and gentle smile. "I am Y/n. And you?"

"Miles"

"Gwen" The girl added.

I got off the table and looked around the dark area. "Where...where am I?"

Gwen and Miles looked at each other to exchange looks only they understood. Gwen answered me.

"You're in the Spider Society's basement, or should I say the storage room"

I grew sad. Where was I locked inside the storage room. And then the last moments of my last encounter of seeing light came back to me. I could still remember every detail of his face, my creator, Miguel O'Hara. "Miguel..." I whispered to myself, but Gwen and Miles heard me.

"You know Miguel?" Gwen asked.

"Why, of course. I was his Ai after all" I smiled sadly.

"A second Ai of Miguel's?" Miles tilted his head.

"I was Miguel's first Ai assistant, just before he made Lyla. The only reason he never mentions me is because I had a defect. Or, at least, that's what he called it. Miguel had programmed me to do a number of things, which involved making him breakfast and helping him with his work. He had made me a physical body, which looked so human sometimes it even tricked him. I would end up having to remind him I wasn't a real person." I sighed and looked down at my hands as I continued.

"My defect seemed to be a certain emotion. The first time I had ever displayed it, was the last because Miguel immediately stopped me and told me to sit down in the examination chair so he could check everything was alright. He told me to close my eyes and now I'm here. It seems he had shut me down for a while. Ever since I've been shut down, I've been searching for a reason as to why he would shut me down but-"

"He thought you fell in love with him" Gwen stated.

I looked up at her surprised. "What?" I whispered.

"You loved him, didn't you?" Gwen pressed.

"Gwen, I don't think you should be nailing her with questions like this" Miles said, looking worried.

"No, we need to know"

"We really don't"

"You love him" Gwen ignored Miles, stepping closer to me causing me to step back.

"I.."

"Gwen, stop it"

"Your hesitation just confirms it. You fell in love and he killed you for it" Gwen stated.

"Gwen!" Miles scolded, not believing she had just said that.

I looked down solemnly. "Death is never our own decision" I said.

"You poor AI" Gwen sighed, turning to Miles. "Does Miguel know she's awake?"

"Let's hope not."

Part Two

#femalereader #xreader #marvelxreader #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #atsv #miles morales #gwen stacy #into the spider verse #spider gwen #lyla spiderverse #short

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gumisgirlfriend · 4 months

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CHAPTER 3:: COMMITMENT

PAIRING:: fem!reader x college au stoner megumi fushiguro

SUMMARY:: against your better judgement, you go to megumi's apartment alone, and he opens up to you.

C/W:: no nsfw content, but MINORS DNI or you get blocked! weed usage. reader is #hopelessromantic coded A/N:: *shoves this into your hands* for you, pookie :3

The moment replays again in your head.

“Let me show you what a real good high feels like sometime.”

“…. What?” you muttered, dumbfounded. “What is that supposed to mean?” You cock your head at him curiously.

Megumi stared at you blankly, raising an eyebrow. “Are you trying to be cute right now?” he grumbles. You shake your head frantically.

“N-No, I just don’t understand—“

He interrupted you with an exasperated sigh, “My place, tomorrow. Be ready by 6:30. Got it?”

“S-Sure?”

The memory makes you stuff your face back into your pillow. What kind of an answer even was that? You sit back up, checking the time to see it’s early in the morning, and Maki still hasn’t returned yet. Out of excitement, your first instinct is to text Maki and Nobara, and tell them about it, but on second thought, it’s probably not too great of an idea, and you remember the last thing Megumi said to you before you got out of the car.

“Just don’t tell the others ‘bout it, kay?

You toss the covers off yourself, stomping as you get up to go to the bathroom. You can’t help but worry about a possible ulterior motive. I mean, everything about him tells you to run away. He smokes, has a beat up car, dirty apartment, and Nobara clearly doesn’t approve of you going after him. Hell, his best friend Yuji is even in a fraternity, but you owe him, and he offered a way to repay him. You ponder it over as you aggressively splash your face with cold water.

Suddenly, your front door opens, and Maki peeks into your shared bathroom. “There you are. You feeling alright?” she asks, her brows knitting with concern.

“Yeah, I think I just had too much last night.” you mutter, drying off your face with a towel.

“It happens. Happened to ‘Gumi once too, back when we were sophomores.” She says with a chuckle, grabbing her toothbrush from the mirror compartment. You flinch from the sound of something toppling over from outside the bathroom.

“Who’s here?”

“Just Yuji and Nobara. Megumi kicked us out cause he has a shift at the campus library. Last time we were left alone at his apartment, Yuji ransacked his fridge.”

You chuckle lightly, “Makes sense.”

Every little detail you find out about Megumi only makes your curiosity pique. You consider heading to the library just to catch a glimpse of him, but then you realize you’re also starting to sound like a stalker. Your phone buzzes in the back of your pocket and you whip it out haphazardly.

“Got a favorite kind of food?”

A giddy smile spreads across your cheeks as you read it.

“sour gummy worms!!! :)” you type back.

You receive another notification, “Okay”

You roll your eyes. Maybe he’s just not fond of texting..

“We’re probably going to head to the library to get some studying out of the way, you wanna come?” Maki asks, toothbrush still hanging from her mouth as she pours herself some mouthwash.

“No thanks. I have a class in twenty minutes.” You say while you slip on a pair of sneakers. As much as you’d like to go give him a visit, it would probably spoil your excitement for later.

Maki nudges you in the rib, “Seems like Megumi has taken a liking to you. That doesn’t happen often.”

Your cheeks fill with heat, “You really think so?” you say hesitantly, chewing on your bottom lip.

Your dorm mate shrugs, “I mean, yeah. It’s weird though. I never thought that you’d be his type.”

You raise your brow confusedly, “.. What is that supposed to mean?” you ask.

Maki sets a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Don’t take this the wrong way..” she says, “But.. you’re sort of a goody-two-shoes.”

Your smile melts into a frown, “Is that.. a bad thing?” you ask awkwardly.

She sighs deeply, “Forget about it. Just be careful with him. He’s not exactly the.. committal type.” She pats you lightly on the back before leaving you in the bathroom with your thoughts.

Your mouth sets in a hard line, and for a second, you’re starting to regret your decision.

Of course, you spent extra time getting ready today to look as good as possible. Two hours, in fact. Today you chose to wear a cute backless top, and shorts, regardless of the freezing weather. You snatch your purse and check the time. “Only 6:25..” you mutter. “Might as well.” You head outside to wait, but you spot a familiar, beat up car in the corner of the parking lot, and an even more familiar face leaning against it.

“How long have you been waiting here?” you ask sweetly, Megumi’s gaze rising from his phone.

He shrugs, “Just got here, actually.” he says, holding the car door open for you before you slip inside. He sits down beside you in the drivers seat, grabbing a bag of sour gummy worms out from the console. Your eyes light up as he drops it in your lap.

“Oh! Thank you.” You say with a wide smile as you tear open the bag, stuffing a few into your mouth.

He nods, “Save some for later. You’re probably gonna be hungry.” You nod back, smiling all giddy like a happy child as you stuff your face with sour gummy worms.

“Want one?” you ask, muffled from your cheeks stuffed with gummy worms. He waves you off, and you put on an exaggerated frown.

His gaze flickers from you back to the road, “Fine. I’ll take one.” Megumi mutters, rolling his eyes. You gladly hand him one and he pops it into his mouth. His face contorts, “Way too sweet.” he comments, shaking his head.

“I think somethings wrong with your tastebuds.” you say with a small grin, crossing your legs.

“I think somethings wrong with you.” he says nonchalantly.

You pout at him, “Hey! That's not very nice..” you reply, tossing a gummy worm at him.

His typically neutral expression shifts into a slight smile. “I’m just kidding. I’m glad you like them. Didn’t know which ones I should get..”

After a couple minutes of silence, besides the sound of the radio, you interrupt, “So.. why do you feel the need to do this?” you ask, fumbling with the bag of gummy worms in your lap.

Megumi’s gaze flickers back to you for a split second, “Don’t have a reason. Just wanted to.” He clears his throat, sitting up a bit straighter. His fingers tap on the edge of the steering wheel to the beat of the radio as you turn the next corner.

You sit comfortably on Megumi’s cold leather couch, shivering. Oddly enough, you swear his apartment looks a lot cleaner than before..

“Do you not have a heater or something?” you mutter, your teeth chattering. You didn’t expect it to be so cold.

Megumi shakes his head. He pulls off his hoodie over his head, and you catch a glimpse of his V line as the shirt underneath lifts up. He tosses it in your direction. “Take that. There’s a blanket under the coffee table, too.” he replies gruffly as he opens the fridge.

These few minutes of silence with him feels.. comfortable. You don’t feel like you have to force yourself to speak, or scan your mind for any possible topics to bring up. You just sit there idly, a faint smile on your face, tracing shapes on the leather couch while you wait for him to return. He comes back to the couch shortly with a plate of brownies.

“Brownies?” you utter with confusion, pulling his sweatshirt over your head. It smells of lavender, cologne, and sweat. An oddly comforting scent. You relax on the couch as you wrap the blankets around your freezing legs.

“Yeah. They’re edible brownies. Made them myself.” he says with confidence, setting the plate down on the coffee table.

Your mouth hangs open for a few seconds with admiration, “Really? Thats.. cool.” You smile earnestly as he plops down beside you.

He raises his eyebrows, “Yeah, I guess.” he says quietly, cutting off a small piece for you.

“Hey! Why do I get such a small piece?” you ask, flicking him on the arm playfully.

“Cause you’re still new to this, idiot. And I wanted to make them strong enough for me, too.” He holds the piece out for you, and you hesitantly pop it in your mouth.

You raise your eyebrows as you ponder the taste, “Mm, tastes funky..” you say as you chew it up. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but it doesn’t taste bad necessarily.

Megumi snorts, “Yeah, there’s weed in it, idiot.” he says with a grin, before taking a bite out of the whole brownie, and you swear that’s the first time you’ve seen him smile in front of you genuinely.

You shake your head, “What happened to the nice guy who saved me at the party?” you tease with faux disappointment, wrapping yourself in the blanket.

Megumi scoffs, “He’s sitting right front of you.” Megumi kicks his legs up on coffee table, stretching out comfortably. He holds the plate of brownies in his lap, popping another in his mouth. His fingers tap idly on the edge of the plate, “These will probably take a while to kick in, so..” He grabs a tv remote from his coffee table compartment, along with two gaming controllers. He tosses one into your lap, “You any good at Mario Kart?”

“I think I can feel it now..” You whisper, slowly turning your gaze to him as an unfamiliar heat pulses throughout your body.

Megumi narrows his eyes, “Why are you whispering?” he asks, sneaking a quick glance at you before turning back to his phone.

You pause for a minute, before sputtering out; “I-I don’t know..”

He laughs, “Yeah, you’re definitely high right now.” he says with a shy smile, setting his phone down beside him. “Feels better than yesterday?”

You nod and your mouth uncontrollably curves into a cheesy smile. “Yeah. Feels good.” you giggle out, hiding the lower half of your face in the blanket. You curl up, holding your knees to your chest.

He nods back, “Good,” he mutters softly. “I felt bad about last night. As much as I like those guys.. they tend to be even a bit much for me, sometimes.” he says, fidgeting with the hem of his t-shirt. For the first time, you really take in his appearance. His blue eyes, long eyelashes, and messy hair. He’s gorgeous, really. You wonder how you’re even breathing the same air right now, or even in the same room. A slight blush creeps up his neck, “You okay?” he asks nervously. You realize you’ve probably been staring at him for at least 30 seconds.

You feel a flutter in your stomach, similar to when you had first met. “Sorry. Spaced out.” you say with an awkward smile, clasping your hands together in your lap. Finally, your intoxication gives you the courage to ask what you’ve been wondering. “So.. question.” you ask hesitantly.

He quirks his brow, “Ask.”

You lean your hand into your palm, “What happened between you and Nobara?” you ask. He responds with a deep sigh, that leads you to guess it didn't go over well. Maybe it was too personal a question. "S-Sorry, you don't have to answer. I don't know why I asked that, really-" you stammer, before he interrupts you. "Its fine. I assumed she'd probably tell you eventually." he says lowly, massaging the back of his neck. "Its.. difficult to explain." "I'll listen." you say with a small smile, nodding understandingly. Megumi leans his head back, staring at the ceiling as if he's trying to recall the relationship. "It was nothing to do with Nobara. I just don't like relationships." he says bluntly, combing a hand through his raven hair. "The commitment it requires. The energy, the time." You bite your lip as you listen to his every word, each one driving you further to disappointment. "Its hard to see myself with someone for the rest of my life." You avert your gaze, "Yeah, I understand what you mean." you say with a forced smile. Realistically, you don't understand it at all. You had dreamed for so long to have a partner. Someone to treat you right, make you feel loved and cared for, and right when you think you've found a possible contender, you get your heart crushed. He curls a lock of his hair around his finger, fidgeting with it. "Maybe that'll change, though. I don't really know yet." He shifts his gaze back to you, lips pressed into a line. "Anyways, enough about me." He sits on his side, facing you. "Tell me more about you." Of course, high out of your mind, you spill every little detail about yourself that comes to mind, including nearly your whole life story, but the whole time he just.. sits there and listens. Never interrupting, unless to ask a clarifying question. He nods attentively, watching you explain your life up until this very moment, sometimes even a faint smile tugging at his lips. Eventually you realize the sun has set outside, you can barely see him with the dim light of the Mario Kart game paused mid-game on the TV screen, and you've completely forgotten about your gummy worms. Your eyes start to drift closed every few seconds involuntarily, before snapping awake again. Eventually, he drifts off to sleep too, his legs intertwining with yours beneath the blanket as you both rest, and you dream of your black-haired savior over and over again.

— TAGLIST :: @diogodxlot

* ˚ ✦ CHAPTER 1 :: black-haired angel: you get invited by your best friend nobara to your first college sorority party, and after being harassed by a college student, a black-haired stranger swoops in to your rescue.

* ˚ ✦ CHAPTER 2 :: green out: after being invited to your first smoke sesh with your friends, you green out, and megumi helps you out once again.

#* ˚ ✦ lana writes #jjk megumi #megumi x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu megumi #megumi x y/n #megumi x you #jujutsu kaisen megumi #megumi fluff #megumi imagine #megumi my beloved #megumi fushiguro

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