#you'll never work in television again

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

F***ing FINALLY!!! I've been looking for stuff with a Reader saving Dogday since he's been introduced and I've only got like, three so far-

And I want this Reader to be resourceful, using anything to patch Dogday up(including scraps of Miss Delight's dress)

I hear your calls <3

...............

"You're wasting precious time, angel. Poppy needs you. I'm only gonna slow you down. Just leave me here, and tell her I'm-"

"You'll get to tell her that yourself, Dogday. Because I'm not going anywhere. I'm gonna help you whether you like it or not."

With a huff, you used the grabpack to wheel in a cart filled with an assortment of items you picked up around the Playcare area: doll parts, plush felt, metal bars, and even Dogday's other missing leg, which you have miraculously found in the playhouse.

You did your best to stitch them back onto his body, although the real challenge was fixing them up first--considering how badly they got mangled by the smaller Smiling Critters. Through sheer luck, you were still able to recognize them as his legs.

And conveniently, you've retained some of your craftsmanship skills from your days working with Playtime Co.

You were given some praise for being able to speedily patch up broken and torn-up toys, but you've never touched upon any of the "Bigger Bodies" despite seeing similar injuries on them. They simply never gave you that clearance, and dealing with blood and organs (and possible death) was something way above your paygrade.

But with Dogday, you were able to apply similar techniques you used in doll repair. You made patches out of Miss Delight's polka-dot dress to cover up any tears, and you created small mechanisms to put inside his legs that would (hopefully) enable him to walk again.

It was like you were performing a surgical operation..

Except, well..that's exactly what was going on.

Despite your unwavering determination--and the fact that you succeeded in reattaching one leg to him so far--he insisted that you were only putting yourself at risk trying to help him.

Hell, you nearly got torn apart by those little Smiling Critters who chased you both down, being scared off by the flares you shot at them. He didn't think you'd have enough..but by the grace of god, you did. And you escaped and found a safe place where Kissy Missy and Poppy were also hiding out.

Not only did you finally get a breather, but also a chance to help one of the few toys left here who somehow didn't lose their humanity.

Even so, Dogday still feared for your safety.

"You know..this will only enrage Catnap, right?" He rasped, choking out a wet cough. "He'll know that I'm missing. And he'll know you have something to do with it.."

"Wait.." Pausing in your work, you glanced up at him with furrowed eyebrows. "Why would he care about where you are? Or better yet..why would he keep you alive at all?"

"...because I was his favorite."

"Huh..?"

"Before the Prototype became his sole focus, we did everything together." He explained somberly. "We helped the others fall asleep, stayed out of trouble. Catnap and I..we were like day and night. Two peas in a pod. He brands me a heretic now, but...somehow, I don't believe he likes doing so. Maybe..he hasn't forgotten our friendship, after all."

'Well, stringing someone up by belts and ripping off half their body doesn't sound like something a good friend would do..' You thought to yourself, although you understood where he was coming from.

Yet it didn't change the fact you still wanted to kill that stupid purple cat. Especially after he gave you that hellish nightmare of Huggy crawling out of a television.

"I know you wanna believe there's still good in him, but..he's long gone." You shook your head. "Those critters..they tried crawling inside your body, and he was just gonna allow it all because you didn't wanna follow the Prototype's will."

"........"

Silence was your only reply, but you decided to shift your focus back on repairing the other leg. Dogday allowed you to work, no longer protesting as he instead looked at the stitches on his arms, feeling grateful yet unworthy at the same time.

Him and the others...they were all monsters. He never killed a single human in his existence (or at least none that he could recall), but he felt like he was just as terrible as those who did.

Eventually, you finished, and his ears perked up at your sigh of relief as you set down your tools and pushed the cart away. "There we go. Try to stand up, but take it slow. Okay?"

He nodded, feeling quite nervous as he looked at his legs, before he slowly pushed himself off the ground. For a few moments, he was able to stand, but he wobbled a little and had to hold onto the nearest wall so he didn't lose balance.

'When was the last time I had my legs? It's been so long...'

Then he felt your grabpack's hands gently steady him, and soon enough he could stand on his own without their support.

You smiled and retracted them. "How do you feel?"

"Much better...thank you, angel." Dogday looked down at you, the corners of his wide smile turning further upwards. "You truly are something divine. You've come to heal us, mend all of our broken pieces, even when we do not deserve such kindness. How could I ever repay you?"

Right as you were about to respond, you heard sounds of plush feet moving and turned around, seeing Kissy and Poppy entering the room.

You didn't really he'd nearly be as tall as Huggy's spouse.

"You fixed him! What can't you do?" The redhaired doll gasped in awe, hopping onto Kissy's hand before she was carefully transferred over to Dogday's paws, stepping into them.

He held her gently, smiling. "Poppy."

"It's so good to see you, my friend." She smiled, although it was quick to disappear. "I thought all of you were gone."

"It's just me now, and...I'm....I-I'm...." He began to sniffle, his voice breaking as the weight of everything that's happened came crashing down. "I'm so sorry...I tried so hard, but...I-I failed! I couldn't protect them!"

Thin streams of tears seeped from the corners of his eyes, darkening the fur along his cheeks. "Kickin'...B-Bobby..they all died because of me! I was supposed to be their leader, but all I did was lead them to their demise! I-I should have joined them in-"

"There, there..it's going to be alright." Poppy softly hushed him, patting his arm in comfort. "You did your best to protect them given the circumstances. I promise we'll have our chance to avenge them. But you must live, for their sake..and for [y/n]'s sake, too. They went through a lot to fix you up."

"I know but..I-I'm so scared. I don't wanna face him alone-"

"You won't be alone, because I'm gonna take care of him."

With another sniffle, Dogday looked down at you, feeling you gently petting his ear as another comforting gesture. Your eyes held nothing but sympathy and heartache for this poor creature. "I'm sorry, but we have to put him down. It's the only way we can move forward."

"Are you sure?" He mumbled. "He's gotten more powerful, and hungry-"

"So were Huggy and Mommy, but I saw how [y/n] dealt with them..and they're more than capable." Poppy remarked. "But now that Catnap's onto them, they'll need all the protection they can get."

"Then..I'll do my best to help." He finally declared, smiling at you.

You blinked, surprised that he was willing to stand up against the one who tortured him. But you simply nodded and smiled back, watching as he returned Poppy to Kissy, before he turned back to you and crouched down.

He enveloped you in a warm hug, the vanilla scent still seeping from his suit and helping you feel more at ease.

"Thank you, Dogday." You chuckled, hugging him back.

"No..thank you, my guardian angel. I will follow you to the ends of the earth."

#clanask #poppy playtime x reader #poppy playtime dogday #dogday x reader #poppy playtime poppy #kissy missy #platonic #poppy playtime spoilers #hurt/comfort

[neil-gaiman]

Gosh, I hope no one's asked this already but...

After watching The Sandman together, my husband and I are looking forward to watching Dead Boy Detectives. I've just watched the trailer and while I'm excited at the prospect of snuggling up with hubby to enjoy more of your creative genius, I'm really nervous that this show will be too much for me. While I can manage blood spurting and can even appreciate the occasional jump scare, the horror aspect is making me more than a little nervous.

Which leads me to ask...

On a scale of 1 to 10, with 1 being "Hey, let's pop some popcorn and gather the kids around the television," and 10 being "Watch in broad daylight with every curtain in your house open and every light in the house on or you'll never sleep again," how would you gauge the show and its episodes as a whole, horror-wise?

Yes, I apologize for being a wimp, (I blame my big sister for intentional exposure to "The Shining" as a 5-year old.) but I'm pretty certain you've answered a question like this kindly in the past, and I'd be most grateful.

Regardless, even if you only read this in passing and don't answer, please know that even though I'm just finding the time to get to know your work now, I have been fan of you as a human being for a long time. Thank you for all you contribute to the human race, Mr. Gaiman. There aren't enough kind people in the world.

Honestly, I'd say mostly it doesn't get scarier than a 4. It's not a horror series. It's very funny, very sweet, romantic and loving and human, sometimes painful and always weird.

[joyoushyuck]

(minors dni)

Donghyuck claims to hate you.

It is raining pitchforks. Water splashes as you run on the sidewalk, footsteps slippery and attire ruined. You are soaked to your bones and in a desperate need for shelter. That is why you don't think twice and let your feet guide you to the one person you swore you'll never involve yourself with.

Donghyuck claims to hate you.

He opens the door, countenance unpleasant and hair messy, headphones hung around his neck. The faint buzz of television is audible inside the house. Donghyuck is only wearing a pair of black sweats, his nipples staring back at you in all their perked glory. You try not to stare. You might be pathetically failing.

His lips part in surprise at the sight of your drenched figure. You are shivering, legs weak and the chatter of your teeth resonating loudly in your ears. A warm palm wraps around your elbow and ushers you in.

Donghyuck claims to hate you.

He deliberately gets your coffee order wrong all the time. He doesn't laugh at your jokes and throws passive aggressive comments at every given opportunity. He flashes all thirty-two of his teeth whenever Karina drops by to say hi, but his jaw locks like a saltwater crocodile the moment he spots you.

Donghyuck claims to hate you.

He forces you to sit on a chair, drying your hair with a fluffy white towel. His oversized shirt sits just above your knees; you shut your thighs together to cover your bare parts. Your eyes are heavy with sleep as he rubs the towel on your head, so you lean against his (toned) abdomen and close your eyes. He lets you be.

Donghyuck claims to hate you.

He's waking you up, shaking your shoulder gently. His face is inches away from yours. You pretend you don't notice the way his eyes flick down for a fraction of a second; it might be your sleep muddled brain making things up.

He offers you a hot mug of coffee. He is seated on the other end of the couch, body facing you, seemingly concerned about your state. He is still shirtless, his nipples are still staring back at you, and you aren't able to think straight anymore.

Donghyuck claims to hate you.

But you think it's all pretence when you pull him into a kiss and his passion is unrivalled as he kisses back. His hands come to settle on your waist and neck, head tilting to get as close to you as possible. His hand rubs slow circles on your waist in an attempt to calm the both of you.

Donghyuck claims to hate you.

“I don't,” he grunts. He's buried deep inside of you. Droplets of sweat glisten on his forehead.

He's kissing you again. You think he likes it from the way he won't stop doing it. You bet your lips are swollen, because his surely are and he wasn't even on the receiving end of all those bites. He nestles his face on the crook of your neck when he comes undone; you've already got off thrice.

Donghyuck claims to hate you.

He helps you clean with the gentlest hands, softly spreading his fragrant shower gel all over your body - your chest, stomach, back, thighs - leaving butterfly kisses while he's still there. It somehow goes south from there. Again.

He falls to his knees and grips your thighs to keep them open, tongue working wonders on your throbbing clit. He has little to no self-control is what you interpret. Not that you have any to begin with.

Donghyuck claims to hate you.

He insists you stay over, he'll sleep on the couch if it’ll make you comfortable. When you suggest he take the bed and yo- you don't ever get to complete the sentence because no, he'll never let you do that. You pretend your heart doesn't swell with a little something at that; what were you even pretending for anyway?

Because even though Donghyuck claimed to hate you, he isn't pretending anymore when he tucks you in his chest and cards his fingers through your hair, lulling you to sleep. His hands are holding your head like you mean the world to him. You smell like him too, and it's the most at rest you've been in a long time.

Maybe you aren't pretending anymore too. From the way you are nuzzling into the warm expanse of his (still shirtless) chest to the way your hand absent-mindedly pats his back, you don't think it's an act of cat and mouse.

But you'll not think about it now, you'll save it for when the morning comes. Now, you'll fall into a deep slumber in the embrace of the man whom you've loved forever.

(He's loved you for longer, but you don't know that just yet.)

-

Note

My inbox is open! You can send in your thoughts/requests for any of the dreamies!

#nct #nct 127 #nct dream #donghyuck x reader #haechan x reader #haechan #lee donghyuck #lee haechan #nct donghyuck #nct drabbles #enemies to lovers #donghyuck smut #haechan smut #nct smut #smut #haechan fluff #nct fluff #fluff #donghyuck fluff #it's raining #tooth rotting fluff #syerah fics #haechan oneshot #nct oneshot #oneshot

[inkskinned]

we heard that you were very disappointed in us both as a generation and specifically as a generation of women (emphasis yours), how we had let ourselves go and now we were slutty and ill-tempered and holding onto notions of feminism like "having a savings account" and "equality."

we were very sorry about it, we didn't realize. it is very hard for you, in your life, because your entire definition was centered around the word providing, and that's a really vague and undulating word. it is hard to be a provider. for your purposes, the word provider here can be defined as "having a job", although it sometimes also extends to "doing yard work", "grilling on occasion," and "knowing basic car anatomy."

we had to do some reading but we divided it out. do not worry. high-value women will fill in the rest of the gaps of your life - all those silly feminine things like doing the dishes. we didn't realize we had asked too much when we asked you to pick up after yourself. we did not realize you were rendered small and scared and crying about the possibility of doing the laundry. here is a joke to lighten the sentiment: a man that listens when you talk to him.

we heard about how we had fallen from glory and it sickened us and made us very, very sad. lindsey had to cut all her hair off and tara threw up. we lit one million candles and we are going to have a vigil about it tonight. all of the people in this world that you do not approve of are going to be there and we will all be in mourning colors because we have lost your respect which is of course the only thing that any of us were looking for.

we searched around our bedrooms and our closets and for some of us it took a while but we all found the pricetag that we were originally born with, the one that gave our listing offer, the one that smells like rot and pine needles. we were horrified because many of us had taken deductions and hadn't realized it. i had scraped my knees and decided to be a lesbian so they had to take my voicebox out so i could never call home again. janice had been with too many people overall so we had to put her into the big squisher that will hopefully collapse her walls so that when you're with her, you'll feel so big and powerful. it will be like you're conquering something instead of being close with someone.

we are all going to the funeral of feminism and we will tear at our bodies and fall over ourselves. we will invite you onstage for a live recording of your podcast about the occasional minor inconvenience of self-reflection. you will talk about how we have targeted you and made you feel the sweat slick down your back, and we will teach you basic self-defense out of solidarity.

do not worry, we are seeing to all the outliers. taylor asked to be taken seriously so we have shipped her off to prison. laura asked you to accept her femininity regardless of her presentation. you will be happy to hear all women are now and forever going to have to be small and thin and pretty and white and ablebodied and quiet and unassuming and ladylike, which is different than how society has previously told us to act.

i am going to have to shave off my jawline, which is a little masculine, and they are going to have to reshape my hands, which are very square and thick - all the work i've done with them has made their veins stand out, so we're just going to have to exsanguinate me. i am horrified to have been out in public like this.

we are going to sit around the campfire and we will talk about being weird little girls that made potions in pink teacups. we will talk about the first time we made a difference. we will talk about the private lives of crickets, and then, at the stroke of three in the morning (the witching hour, obviously) - we will all promptly shut up.

and this will be your beautiful world. this silence that spans every corner of every street and every zoom meeting and every alley. i do not think you'll notice at first - it will be the same as every television show and movie and book. we will all just simply sit there in our doll dresses and smile blithely at your advances and none of us will do you the dishonor of answering and none of us will appear to be in distress and none of us will nag you or make a fuss or get hysterical about it. it will just be quiet, and you will say finally, some peace for once! and we will smell of smoke and our teeth will be white and the next day will come.

tonight we are going to bury the last little bits of our humanity. you are not invited. it is going to be ugly.

#spilled ink #warm up #sorry for going missing lol #my week in review: #got in trouble at work #for not being at work during non-working hours #then crashed my car within 2 hours of this #and then less than 24 hours after that #in the hospital with the flu #im okay now but ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm #who put a fuckken curse on me #btw this rant is trans inclusive love u

[yrsdf]

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

dom!mike x babysitter/virgin!reader

warning! age gap (m 25 , r 19)

also in my stories he's 6'0 not 5'5 ;-)

NOT PROOFREAD

you'll thank me later

you knew by heart that mike was not to be messed with when he had one of those shifts, the shifts that had him coming home with the struggle of the keys outside the door, which had only frustrated him even more which then proceeded with the slam of the door behind him as he'd enter the house and the deep sigh he would let out as he stood there for a minute, usually he would be silent and you'd know the usual, you knew on the nights he was mad that you had to stay quiet just out of respect (and to avoid his glare), he would pay you in cash and you'd leave, but tonight was different.

It was one of his bad nights at the pizzeria , really... bad night, you had stayed over to watch abby as you usually did and tonight she had gone over to her bestfriends house for a birthday party/sleepover, it was pouring rain out you could hear the rain as it poured down onto the house, you sat on the couch warmed by a blanket and distracted by some stupid QVC that only came on at the late night hours, you were fascinated on the crazy prices on the rings the man was showcasing on the television.

"twelve thousand for a ring...that's a bit absurd."

you mumbled lowley at yourself, followed by a awkward giggle you for some reason needed to let out, maybe so you didn't feel so alone in the house, time went by and your pocked made a low "bzzzzz" noise followed by the feeling of its vibration in your pocket, you took the phone out and flipped it open reading the message mike had sent you

(I'll be home late, feel free to stay the night .)

you send back a simplistic thanks in response, mike didn't like you driving in the rain which you always thought was sweet of him, some nights you'll stay until morning just so you wouldn't have the dangers of tackling a wet road, and idiotic drivers, although his couch was definitely old, and hard to sleep on you took the offer, thankful for the gesture.

You stood up stretching, arching your back and twisting which rewarded you with a satisfying back pop which you definitely needed, and you waltzed down the hallway and into the bathroom so you could take a shower, just as you would every night either at his place or yours. Usually you had a bag with you in case you would stay at mikes but just like any irresponsible mistake you seem to make, leaving important things at home was your most famous mistake. but you shrugged your mistake off and walked into mikes room, you snagged a folded shirt from his open drawer that he probably left open in his tired rush to work.

you finished showering and stepped out, using a towel to dry yourself off and slipped the shorts you already had on previously, and then slipped his shirt on you looked at yourself in the mirror and noticed the size of his shirt on you, you never really noticed the difference between you too, you wrapped your hair back up in the towel and left the bathroom, the steam from the hot shower followed behind you and you bumped into mike by accident, you must not have heard him come home and you looked up at him, he was definitely pissed, his gaze burning down at you, you felt small with the way he was looking down at you, as you slowly shut the bathroom door behind you his eyes were wandering, he noticed the size of his shirt on you, and how it hid your curves. your eyes met his again, you noticed he was giving you a look something primal something hungry in a sense and you tilted your head to the side in curiosity.

"Are you alright mikey?"

he took no time to respond, he had a hand on the side of your face and the other on the curve of your side. he guided you to the door your back pressing against it, he took advantage of this position, using the hand on your jaw he lifted your chin kissing you neck softly at first, you let out soft whimpers, he abruptly bit your neck, his fangs piercing you slightly causing you to jolt slightly, he licked where he bit to soothe it and continued on littering you neck in soft kisses, occasionally leaving hickies where he wanted them.

he lowered himself onto his knees and his dilated brown eyes connected with yours before he put his focus to your shorts, he took his time removing the clothing from your lower half, but he kept the shirt on you, he lowered your panties and let them fall to your feet where your shorts were, his kissed your knee first, moving his way up and attached his lips to the innards of your thigh, you let out a soft moan as you squirmed, his mouth sucking a harshly dark hickey onto your inner thigh, he detached his lips and looked back up at you

"i'm gonna take good care of you, i promise"

he said this followed with his signature grin, he attacked his lips to your clit, tongue moving in figure eights onto it, his hands gripping harshly into the back of your thighs to prevent you from moving, he soaked up all your juices, soaking himself in your scent, and taste. you squirmed and squealed, your moaning loud and uncontrolled... god were you happy abby wasn't home, your hands gripped his hair, you were grinding against his mouth and he knew you were growing close, he could tell by the way you were thrashing and mumbling unknown words, you gripped his hair roughly as you finished his tongue helped you through your high and he detached himself from you he looked up wiping his mouth.

"god...you taste amazing, can't wait to feel you wrapped around me."

his hands now lifted you up and over his shoulder, he worked his way into the kitchen and sat you on the island. you watched as he got his wallet from his back pocket and flipped it open grabbing a condom from it, he sat the wallet on the counter beside you and he unbuckled his pants. his eyes now back on yours as he stepped between your opened legs.

"oh look at you... such a mess because of me, right pretty girl?"

you nodded in response as he let his pants fall to his ankles, he worked his boxers down and his size was definitely surprising. he noticed your mouth opened slightly and took this opportunity placing his thumb into your mouth and pressing down on your tongue, he worked his condom onto his shaft. the grip of his thumb in your mouth, and finger on your chin dragged your attention up to him, he was aware of you being a virgin.

"hey, hey.. eyes on me bunny, keep them right on me alright.?"

again you nodded, letting out a whimper as he ran the tip of his cock through your folds, eventually sinking half of himself into you, satisfied by the gasp you let out as he entered you, he shoved the rest in as far as possible as he waited for you to be comfortable with him continuing.

"more...please"

you slurred out due to the thumb in your mouth, which he moved both hands placing one on the counter top beside you and the other wrapping around your underarms, which would brace you for his pace, he thrusted in you at a unbearable speed your moans loud and pornagraphic, your head fell back as you grew close already, his cock hitting your gspot in the perfect way which caused your second orgasm to drown you, your legs shook against his hips and your body jolted and trembled as he kept his pace steady giving you no time to adjust, you were dumb fucked, your body only upright because of the arm he had around you, you were drooling, eyes rolling back followed by your head struggling to stay upright, his teeth sunk into your neck as he grew close, you could hardly moan, silently letting out whimpers with your mouth hung wide open, his pace relentless and unbroken as the sound of skin smacking filled the once silent house, you were close to a third orgasm as he neared his first, his teeth dug into your shoulder drawing blood as the two of you came in sync, he let out a low growl against your skin as your body trembled and shook, his pace slowed as he removed his teeth from your shoulder, but he looked at you, noticing that you were asleep. he placed a soft kiss upon your cheek.

(plz comment ur thoughs)

#mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt x reader #fnaf #fnaf movie #x reader #yrsdf fic

[rafeandonlyrafe]

three: barry

words: 1.7k

warnings: 18+ only!!!, bi!rafe and bi!barry, established thruple, threesome, cock warming, dom!rafe, sub!reader and sub!barry, male receiving oral, p in v sex, unprotected sex, male on male action!!!, edging, cum play?

“r-rafe.” you mumble out, pressing your face further forward. “please.” 

rafe ignores your pleas, eyes focused on the football game playing on the television, occasionally eating one of the chips that was dumped into a bowl on the coffee table for all three of you to enjoy.

“i- shit.” barry curses, his dick twitching inside of you, causing you to cry out and push your face further into barrys shoulder, trying to muffle your noise, knowing rafe wants you silent.

“told you not to move.” rafe doesn't even glance over at the two of you, both stripped completely naked, barrys cock buried in your cunt while you sit on his lap, bound to listen to rafes command that he set as your punishment.

“should have just been good.” rafe finally glances over to you. “you're always my good girl.” he tsks.

it's true, whenever you get in any trouble, it's always barrys fault. just like earlier today when he dragged you into the bedroom when rafe specifically told both of you not to do anything until he got home.

“‘m really sorry rafey.” you pout, attempting to bat your eyelashes at him, hoping it would work, but rafe knows better than to look at you and break, snapping his eyes back to the tv.

“shit, how are you still so fucking tight.” barry groans, his hands gripping your hips so hard you know you'll bruise. “even having both of us fuck you, you're still squeezing-shit.”

barry curses again as he twitches, hips involuntarily moving slightly upwards. you cry out, knowing you should hold in your moan but unable to help it.

the sound reaches you before the pain does, rafe reaching over to land a hard spanking on your ass, a warning not to move again.

“it was barrys fault, please!” you whine to rafe, a red palm mark already visible on your ass. it was barry who drug you into the bedroom and shoved his tongue into your cunt, it was him who caused you to scream out and alert rafe.

“yet you were the one getting eaten out.” rafe points out. he knows you wouldn't disobey him, that it was barry who was planning to have you bounce on his dick next, but rafe likes getting to punish you, and even more getting to use you to punish barry.

“im so sorry rafey, ill never be bad again, i wanna be your good girl.”

“oh baby.” rafe finally looks over to you, running his thumb down your cheek. “i know. why don't you wait until the game is done, then your punishment can be over?”

“mkay.” you nod. “love you.” you glance behind your back, mouth gaping when you realize the game only just resumed after half time, and you have possibly hours of punishment left, sitting stuck on barrys cock without moving.

“anything you want to say to me barry?” rafe asks, tilting his head to the side.

“nah, man.” 

it's an interesting dynamic, both rafe and barry being obsessed with you, and infatuated with each other, but each being strong willed.

“okay, no cumming for you then.” rafe just shrugs, leaning over to give you a chaste kiss. “my good girl will get to when im done watching the game.”

“fine!” barry groans. “im fucking sorry. next time we'll wait for you.” 

“that's what i thought.” rafe smirks, turning back to watch the game. 

you bury your head back in barrys shoulder, trying to think of anything to distract yourself from focusing on his length buried inside you, on your pulsing clit just begging to be touched.

you listen to the sounds of the commentators, letting out a sigh of relief every time they say how much time is left in the game, as difficult as it is to remain still, you know rafe will make it all worth it.

“come here, pretty.” rafe pats your thigh. you blink your eyes open, letting out a sigh of relief.

rafe works his pants open, tugging them down enough to pull his cock out. you have to move slowly off of barrys cock, legs having cramped up and fallen asleep in that one position.

“you can just watch.” rafe says to barry as you switch to his lap, letting out a shudder when rafe touches you, even just his hand resting against your waist has you feeling close to the edge.

“ride me. make yourself cum.” rafe says. you waste no time lining up with his cock and sinking down, letting out a moan in relief. rafe helps you bounce up and down, doing most of the work lifting you by your hips and bringing you back down.

“so big, rafey.” you cry out, walls being stretched more than barry, both of them being around the same length but rafe has more thickness to his cock.

“such a good girl for me, come here.” rafe tugs you forward, your lips landing on his in a heated kiss, hands moving all over his chest, wishing it wasn't covered by the football jersey he put on for the game.

“‘m so sorry rafey promise ill be good for you forever and ever.” you glance over to barry, hands clenched and sitting on his thighs as his eyes are watching your cunt move up and down rafes cock, barrys dick hard and red, waiting impatiently to be relieved.

“i know baby.” rafe coos. he takes one hand off his own chest and moves it to your clit. you let out a squeal of relief, rubbing your fingers lower to gather some of your slick before moving back up to your clit.

“get yourself off, baby, come on.” rafe encourages you, pushing you down harder onto his cock with every movement, trying his best not to thrust his hips up into you, wanting you to do the work as a final punishment, even if it is his hands on your hips guiding most of your motions.

“barry doesnt get to cum until you do, you're making him wait so long baby.” rafe glances over at barry, an uncomfortable look on his face.

“come here.” rafe cocks his head to barry, who quickly moves closer on the couch.

“suck her tits, make her get off faster.” rafe says. barry moves to his knees, having to move his head up and down to follow your chest as you ride rafe, his lips wrapping around your nipple and sucking it into his mouth.

“that's good, barry.” rafe moans as you clench around him, your fingers moving faster on your clit.

“close.” you warn, barrys tongue flicking over your nipple, hand moving around your back to round your chest and play with the other one.

“cum for me.” rafe commands, pushing your hips all the way down as your back arches, rubbing yourself quickly to orgasm, your high rushing through your body, causing you to squeal out.

barry pulls away, hand twitching to grip his cock while you fall forward into rafes chest. he gives you a brief moment to relax, to let your cunt slow down it's intense pulsing around his length.

“thank you.” you gasp out, picking your head up to look at rafe. “thank you.”

“you're welcome pretty.” rafe smiles, picking your hips up to get you off his cock like you weigh nothing, setting your sloppy cunt on his thigh. “now why don't you and barry suck me off?”

rafe spreads his thighs while you both move to kneel in front of the couch, barry immediately leaning in to lick a stripe of your pussy juices off rafes cock.

you let barry focus on his length, moving up to suckle on the head of his cock while you kiss over rafes balls, knowing how much he likes when you both focus on him at the same time.

“touch him, y/n.” rafe says. “but barry, you don't get to cum until i do.”

you nod, wrapping your hand around barrys length. for his own sake, you keep your strokes unhurried and steady, not slow enough to piss off rafe, but enough to hopefully make barry last.

you glide your lips up rafes cock, tasting yourself on his dick as you meet barrys mouth at the lead of rafes cock, tongues meeting as you kiss over his tip.

“fuck.” rafe groans, hips twitching up slightly as he sees you making out with each other as well as sucking him off.

you switch places, barry moving down rafes cock to his balls while you swallow around his length, doing your best to deep throat him while keeping your hand stroking over barrys cock.

“so good for me.” rafe hums, hands coming to both of your hairs, barrys now cropped short but still long enough for rafe to grip, while yours is tied back in a ponytail.

you bob your head, ignoring your gag reflex the best you can, tears falling down your cheeks. you last as long as you can until you have to pull off and take in a large gulp of air.

“show her how it's done, barry.” rafe tugs on his hair, pulling him up to take rafes cock in his mouth next. rafe wastes no time pushing him all the way down, knowing how good barry can take his dick.

“close.” rafe warns, looking to you. you nod, not even needing him to use his words as you sink to your stomach on the floor, sucking barrys cock into your mouth.

you wait to hear the moans and grunts that signal rafes orgasm as he shoots deep into barrys throat to really suck at his cock, one of barrys hands moving off rafes thigh to keep your head down as he fills your mouth with cum, barely needing any stimulation after being teased for so long.

you pull off and move back to your knees, opening your mouth up to show barrys cum sitting on your tongue.

“such a good girl.” rafe leans forward, shoving his tongue into your mouth in a messy kiss, sharing barrys cum and each other's spit.

“love you.” you coo to rafe, swallowing barrys cum before leaning to him. “love you too.”

barry nods, his face slackened eyes closed, clearly too exhausted to say anything.

“and i love you both too.” rafe says, petting his hand over your hair. “why don't we get both of you in the bath then we can cuddle in bed?”

“mmm.” you nod. “sounds good.” you trail your fingers up rafes thigh, jealous that you didn't get to taste any of his cum. “as long as i can suck you off in the bath.”

barry perks up at that, his eyes opening as rafe laughs. “god, you two are such sluts.”

“your sluts.” you remind rafe.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @die4niyahhh

#three #rafe smut #rafe cameron smut #obx smut #outer banks smut #barry smut #rafe x barry #rafe cameron x barry #rafe fic #rafe fanfic #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe x oc #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x oc #rafe cameron x reader #rafe imagine #rafe blurb #rafe drabble #rafe one shot #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron one shot

[snoopypupp]

ULTRAVIOLENT ― "violent is my second name baby"

PREVIEW ― 🎥

PAIRING! ghostface!heeseung! x student!reader!

WARNINGS! DARK THEMES!!! smut. non-con. mental illnesses. gore. murder. yandere themes implied. morally grey characters. family issues. bullying. more to be mentioned.

the familiar dialing tone rang in your eardrums as you felt the chill of excitement went down your spine. the clock ticked three times signalling that it's midnight as the person picked up the call. the sound of metal scrapping metal could be heard but no one spoke.

you switched on the voice mod and greeted the person. "hello citizen, it's an honor", the mod worked perfectly and disguised your voice as a man's voice. the voice of ghost face to be exact. swallowing down the giggles, you waited for a reply. one that sent your soul out of your body.

"playing games with me now baby?" came back a response with the same voice as the mod you used. "it's not wise to trick the killer with their characteristics don't you think? or are you just stupid?" he chuckled. you nearly dropped the phone and gulped, ruining the confidence you tried to display.

he continued, increasing the tension. "that's right kitten, i really am the murderer on television. lucky you who found my number". it wasn't intended to you to choose to dial him. it was just that you picked random numbers.

see, being a straight A student with a lot of pressure, you needed a way out to release those. and the path you chose? was pranking people. of course you had a separate number that no one knew. every night, after studying sessions, you'd pick one number and play with them which was very amusing for you but not this one.

"you're a big fat liar", you spat. "who would believe you. i'm not stupid enough to trust fucking idiots on the line". the way you tried to act tough was so cute to him but he'd be more keen if you had manners. "oh naive y/n, don't disrespect me, you'll face the consequences", he breathed out heavily.

oh shit. how did he know you?! you can never guess who that person is and he could strike at you any minute. trembling, you cut off the call and threw your phone aside as your mind clouded with thoughts.

to your dismay it rang again.

#snoopypuppwrites #enhypen #heeseung #park jongseong #sim jaeyun #park sunghoon #kim sunoo #jungwon #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fluff #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #heeseung x reader #heeseung smut #ghost face heeseung #enhypen ghost face #ghost face au

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (7/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Having a movie night is a good way to spend the evening with your roommate. If it were not for the wine that loosens the mouth.

Warnings: TENSION, FLIRTING (you've been warned), alcohol consumption, a Charles picture (badly edited), Cars (movie)

Word Count: 3k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: I'm sitting here like a fourteen year old whose crush admitted to liking her. that's how I'm feeling about this chapter. feedback is appreciated!

"You're kidding me."

"I would never."

Charles sets his wine glass on the coffee table as you clutch yours, though there's not a sip left in it. "How have you made it through life so far?"

You shrug. Charles looks at you with a look like you kicked a dog and insulted his mother. "I never got around to it."

That's only half the truth. Since you moved out of your parents' house, you'd actually had plenty of time to catch up on that sort of thing. But at some point you had decided for yourself that it was too late to get into it in your early twenties, when you should theoretically be out of it.

Apparently Charles doesn't see it that way. He reaches for the remote control and presses a few buttons until first a castle and then a bouncing lamp appear on the television in front of you. He then presses the stop button and turns back to you. "Get comfortable, because you're not getting off this couch again until we're done here." He places the bowl of popcorn between you on the couch. "And if you fall asleep, you'll have to watch the movie again."

You pour yourself some more wine and take a big gulp. As some of it runs out of the corner of your mouth, you wipe it away with the back of your hand. "Aren't we too old for this?"

Charles raises an eyebrow before pressing the play button. The screen goes black and you hear someone take a deep breath in and out before an off-screen voice says okay, here we go. focus. The grin on your roommate's face grows so wide it almost touches an ear. Speed. I am speed.

"You're never too old for Cars."

Apparently Charles not only works in the car industry, but is obsessed with cars. And even more so with this film. 

Out of the corner of your eye you can see that he is silently moving his mouth to speak along with every single character while you sit next to it, eating popcorn and drinking your wine. 

The beginning of the film doesn't particularly captivate you. An arrogant car with no team spirit as the protagonist. For sure he would make friends in the course of the film and appreciate them and then he wins his race. Very predictable. Even for a children's film. 

All you have to do now is stand there and let me look at you, Lightning McQueen says to the Porsche and you cringe.

"Wow, that's hardly bearable." You put a piece of popcorn between your teeth and wash it down with a gulp of wine. 

Charles, who has slid down a little further on the couch, looks at you. "Lightning or the whole movie?" He reaches for his glass on the table. 

You spread your index finger from the glass and point it at the screen. "Lightning. That was so slimy. Like anyone would fall for that." As Sally embarrasses the hell out of the red speedster, you thrust your fist into the air enthusiastically. 

Charles laughs. "So you're not into that sort of thing to seduce you?" He sips his wine, you shake your head. He props himself up on the seat with one elbow, resting his head in his hand, and stretches his legs out in your direction so that he's almost completely on the couch. He dangles the wine glass casually in his free hand. The film pauses. "How else can you be seduced?"

If you hadn't caught the phone call this lunchtime and the conversation with Joris, both of which involved a woman, you might think that Charles is flirting with you. That maybe he sees more in you than his roommate and friend. And if your ex-boyfriend hadn't spoiled your mood before - or generally not crossed your life - you'd go for it, too. 

You glance at Charles. He has taken off his jumper sometime after the second glass of wine and thrown it towards the dining table chair, so that he is lying next to you in his shirt. The strands of his hair stand on end after running his hand through them several times and his cheeks are slightly flushed. His green and otherwise alert eyes seem a little misty, almost certainly due to the alcohol. 

And his smile. God, his smile is so crooked and beautiful and his dimples give him something childishly cheeky that makes your heart beat a beat faster. 

Is he cute?, you hear Vicky's voice in the back of your mind. 

Damn cute, even. 

'Definitely not like that,' you finally answer his question, lowering your gaze towards your wine glass. If your mind is already drifting like this, maybe you should stop drinking. 

"How then?", Charles asks, his eyes fixed on you. 

Unsure, you look at him. "Why do you want to know?" Inwardly, you command your heart to give it a rest. Just because he asks doesn't mean he needs the knowledge for himself.

"Well, maybe one day a guy will come along who doesn't know how to approach you. And then I can give him a hint, if you want," he explains with a shrug, before taking a big sip of his wine and emptying his glass. 

You try not to let on how much his answer hits you. Somehow you hoped he would want to know that for himself, in case he decided to approach you at some point. But apparently you haven't been listening to Charles properly for the last few hours. 

That's what friends are for, after all. 

You're my friend. 

For not being a good friend to you. 

And friends who live together fight in between. 

Inwardly you slap your forehead with your palm. The wine is definitely to blame for your thoughts. 

"When you remember little things," you finally answer Charles' question and set your glass down on the table, which Charles seems to take as an invitation to top up, and before you can do anything about it he has refilled your glass. 

"Little things?" Charles lies back in his comfortable position and eyes you. 

You nod. "Yes. Like the fact that I think peonies are much prettier than roses, or that I prefer muffins to cupcakes. Little things like that, that define me." You shrug. "It just shows that the person has been paying attention and cared about me."

Charles nods, and you think he glances briefly at your almost empty wine bottle before reaching for the remote again. "Good to know."

The film continues and you decide that little blue Guido is your favourite character. As Lightning McQueen pulls yellow Betsy across the road and chats to Luigi and Guido, you raise your eyebrows in surprise. 

"Kind of strange to hear Formula One mentioned."

You notice Charles stiffen beside you, but his gaze remains forward. "Why?"

You reach - despite your brain vehemently telling you not to - for your glass. "Well, it's an animated film and the fact that Formula One is mentioned makes it kind of real. Although it's not. You know what I mean?"

"Do you watch Formula One, then?" asks Charles a counter-question, without answering yours. By now he is looking at you, but you can't interpret the expression on his face.

As you shake your head, he seems to relax a little. For whatever reason. "No. I used to watch it with my grandfather. Back when Michael Schumacher drove for Ferrari. We watched every race and cheered for the red team." You take a sip. "I lost sight of it at some point."

"Do you think you'd still be a Ferrari fan now if you'd stuck with it?" your roommate asks. Why he's so interested in it, you don't know. 

You point to the two Ferrari fans from Cars and smile. "Isn't everyone a Ferrari fan somehow? Even if they're not?" You turn back to the film and continue sipping your wine. 

Which is definitely not the best idea, because it seems to cloud your thoughts and loosen your mouth, because when Lightning decides to help Radiator Springs, it just bursts out of you. "Lightning is hot."

Charles, who has just taken a sip, chokes and nearly coughs his guts out. When he has calmed down, he looks at you, distraught. "Excuse me?"

"Yeeeees." You turn a little in his direction and pull your legs to your chest. You're sitting opposite each other now, except that Charles is lying down. "Not so 'wow, I'd like to fuck him'-hot. But his vibe makes him hot."

Charles wiggles his eyebrows. "I was once told I looked like him."

You have to laugh out loud, and you reach into the popcorn bowl once and throw it at him, laughing. He's not that quick to open his mouth to catch the pieces, but he gathers them up off his shirt and puts them between his teeth, grinning. 

"Why are you laughing like that? Someone actually said that once! Don't you believe me?"

You realise that the wine has gone to your head, because you can hardly stop laughing. You can hardly breathe and tears spring to your eyes, which you wipe away with the hem of your jumper. Your stomach hurts and you force yourself to breathe in and out deeply. "No, I believe you. But Lightning is just hot, and you're cute. There's a difference between the two."

Your sober self, which is napping somewhere deep in your brain, startles from its slumber and would love to slap you for it. 

Charles cheeks turn even redder and somehow the hem of his shirt seems very interesting because he rubs it between his thumb and forefinger before looking at you. "So you think I'm cute?"

This time he is quicker and catches the piece of popcorn you throw in his direction with his mouth and chews on it with relish. "Oh, come on. I'm definitely not the first one to say that to you," you try to somehow talk your way out of it. "I'm probably just the first to say that without flirting with you. My statement is to be considered purely objective."

"Objective, then?" He sits up a little straighter. "What would it look like if you were flirting?"

You put your wine glass down on the table and decide to actually let it go for today. You've definitely said too much, which you'd almost certainly regret tomorrow, and just thinking about how weird things might get in the morning makes your blood rush to your ears. So you reach for the popcorn. "I'm not doing that to you."

Your roommate raises an eyebrow in confusion. "Why? Are you that bad?" he quips.

You shake your head playfully. "On the contrary. I'm so good at it, you'd fall in love with me instantly," you joke, and have to grin, but Charles doesn't return it. 

"Don't worry," he replies without taking his eyes off you. "It takes more than that to make me fall head over heels in love with someone."

You'd love to ask what exactly it takes, but why should you care? You're friends, he's made that clear. And you should definitely get it through your head. In your drunken estimation, the line of friendship you're walking right now is clearly too narrow for your liking. 

You purse your lips and watch the film in silence. The mood has changed, no longer as easy-going as it was a few minutes ago. You would like to say something, but you don't know what, so you sit still. 

When you reach the point in the film where Lightning pushes the King across the finish line - against your expectations - to finish third in the Piston Cup, you can't stop the sob that leaves your mouth. Out of the corner of your eye you see Charles looking at you. And then all the dams break.

"How can a film about cars - about cars, Charles - make me cry like this?" You wipe away your tears. "This isn't normal. What's the point? It's a movie for kids, for fuck's sake."

Charles' smile is gentle. "No swear words, please. The film is my favourite."

"The film is first class." You try to breathe but hiccup as a result and Charles has to laugh slightly. "Oh, shit. Do kids even understand how important the message is? That it doesn't matter if you win or not as long as you do the right thing and have your friends around you?" 

"There are two more parts, by the way. We can watch those too if you like," Charles suggests and he looks a little offended when you shake your head and get up from the couch. 

"Let me process this movie first and then we'll see." You grab the empty wine bottles and glasses to take them to the kitchen. Charles grabs the bowls and you put the dishes in the sink. Neither of you would manage to wash them properly yet and with a single glance you silently agree to clean up the rest of the living room in the morning. 

You go together to the bathroom where you get ready for bed. You are brushing your teeth when your gaze catches his in the mirror. You smile at him. "But I would love to watch the films with you. I had a lovely evening, if that wasn't clear." You spit some excess foam into the sink. "Thank you for that."

Charles sticks his thumb in the air and washes his mouth out before answering you. "Anytime." He places his toothbrush in his cup. "I haven't had this much fun watching a movie in ages." As he looks at you, his gaze goes through your skin and bones. "Thank you for forgiving me. I couldn't bear it if you were angry with me."

As he combs his hair with a brush - yours - you rinse out your mouth as well. It's so mundane the way the two of you get ready for bed next to each other, as if you've grown up together and not as if you've only known each other for exactly one day. This familiarity between you should feel strange, but you have to admit yourself that nothing has ever felt better. 

"I don't think I can stay mad at you for long." You tie your hair into a braided pigtail, which takes a little longer than usual because of the wine. "I like you far too much for that."

You don't wait for his answer, but leave the bathroom, grabbing your camera and phone for a moment. "Do you have your AirDrop on?" you ask him. "So I can send you the photo."

"Oh, yeah. Hang on a sec." He rummages around among the cushions on the couch for a moment until he pulls out his phone and taps away on it. You look at your screen, and see "CL iPhone" flashing up. You press his name and the picture your camera automatically sent to the phone app is now sent to Charles. He looks at it for a moment. "I look so good."

"Don't get too carried away," you laugh and move towards the bedroom door while Charles gets his bedding from the wardrobe in the hall. You watch him for a moment as he gets his things ready. "Good night, Lightning."

His smile is so gentle you could melt. "Good night."

After closing the bedroom door behind you, you slip into your sleeping clothes and climb under your duvet. With your phone in your hand, you lie down on your side. You release the key lock and Charles' picture appears. 

He is right. He does look good in it. 

Just as you are about to plug your phone into the charger and put it away, a message pops up on the screen. 

CL iPhone would like to share a photo

Surprised, you click on "Accept". 

You giggle and think about sending a picture back, but don't. "You can sleep in your bed tomorrow," you shout across the flat and receive a "Thank you!"

Grinning, you snuggle into your pillow and force yourself not to stare at the picture he just sent you. It's almost cheeky how he can still look so good after such a long day and a bottle of wine. 

You put your phone next to your pillow and turn onto your back. To cope with this situation, you have to draw clearer lines. And lock away the thoughts that are running around in your head in between. 

You have a crazy ex. And there's something going on with Charles too, although you don't know what exactly. It definitely wouldn't be the right time for either of you to develop feelings for someone. And as often as he's referred to you as his friend, you want to spare yourself the shame of falling for someone who doesn't want you. 

You put your forearms over your face. 

You have known each other for twenty-four hours. How can someone be so etched in your mind after such a short time? 

You blame your emotional state on the wine, close your eyes and try to think of something else. Of cute penguins, puppies, sheep. But the thoughts circle and circle and always find their way back, as if they only know this way. 

Always back to Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles.

next part

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc prompt #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fluff #carlos sainz jr #charles leclerc one shot #f1 #Charles Leclerc fanfiction #Charles Leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you

[cherubfae]

Hello! I'm not sure if you do single characters or not but What if the reader (who's a big fan of horror) wanted to show Alastor some classic horror movies. Their reasoning? "So you can make fun of it," If you do a collection of characters, then it can be like a movie night for the hotel.

Hiya love!! Yes, I do! In fact I'm currently working on a longer Alastor fic at the moment :)) it's like this request was made for me bc I 100% will force Alastor to watch the Scream franchise with me 😭 it's my fave. I'm a mega horror fan, haha! Maybe I'll have to write for slashers again like I used to! I'll just write Al since he deserves some love for himself!! Pls excuse me bc now I'm gonna be thinking about 1920s GhostFace Alastor 😩😩🩷💕

What's Your Favorite Scary Movie? || Alastor x reader

tags: fluff, gn!reader, Alastor critiquing horror media, plot to the Scream franchise, my horror obsession might be showing lmao

Getting Alastor to have anything to do with post 1930s technology was a task and a half. He might've made a deal with Vaggie not to have anything to do with such frivolous technology, but you weren't Vaggie. You were his sweet, dear partner. And he'd never admit just how tightly wrapped he was around your finger.

He seemed to genuinely enjoy the first few Halloween movies as well as the first Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Alastor took a great of interest with Hannibal Lector from The Silence of Lambs. He was deeply considering watching the television series you told him of. He thinks Freddy Krueger is a piece of shit and wished he could do him in with his own hands.

The next movie, however, seemed more susceptible to being torn to pieces by his ever-watchful eye.

"So the point of this picture show is what... Billy is angry because his mother abandoned him and he doesn't know how to deal with those big feelings at his age?" Alastor gives an indignant snort, looking bemused at the old television screen currently playing a VHS of Wes Craven's 1996 slasher classic Scream. That's as new of tech as Alastor would allow, so you made do.

Snorting out a laugh, you lean against his arm. Alastor's crackling gaze flickers to you his smile softening around the edges. He did very much adore your laugh.

"That about sums it up, yes," you grin, biting down on the corner of your chocolate bar.

Alastor leans his back against the sofa, pulling the blanket wrapped around you two closer. "I don't know how that Macher boy thinks that peer pressure is a justifiable defense for murdering people." He unwraps his own piece of bitter chocolate and pops it into his mouth. "Own up to your choices, for Heaven's sake. And people find these two attractive? Are they not in love with one another? Surely anyone with two good working eyes could see this."

The sixth Scream movie damn near has Alastor foaming at the mouth, each and every movie felt as repetitive as the last with slight twists and changes. He was polite to keep most critiques to himself, eyeing how much you clearly enjoyed showing something so near and dear to your heart. While the plot was rather lackluster, he had to admit he was interested in the severe brutality of the sixth and despite his opposition to new media, felt that it was a decent enough film. With such a repetitive storyline, he didn't really expect that sort of twist.

"There's one more we can watch!" You grin, holding up your copy of Scary Movie. Alastor's eyes look ready to pop out of his skull as if to say 'Oh god, another??' "I don't think you'll guess who the GhostFace is!"

"Is it the man called Doofy?"

|| I DON'T GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE REPOSTED, RESHARED, OR EDITED. TUMBLR IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT AND THE ONLY PLACE WHERE I POST MY WRITING. ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS, THE STORY BELONGS TO ME. || CHERUBFAE © 2024

"What the fuck-- how."

#hazbin hotel imagines #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin imagines #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor x reader #alastor imagine #alastor headcanons #cherubfae 2024

[threadbaresweater]

In hindsight, you really should have tried to catch a nap after work. At ten minutes till midnight, you're dozing on Kento's shoulder. He doesn't realize you're asleep at first. You'd just been telling him a story about a New Year's Eve in your youth– when you were wild and impulsive and could handle more than two drinks– and then you'd curled yourself around his arm and fallen completely silent.

"It sounds like you're lucky to have met me when you did," he teases. When you don't respond, he tucks his chin to peer at you and finds your pretty eyelashes pillowed against your cheeks. He huffs a quiet laugh. "Are you going to sleep until next year?"

You stir at the sound of his voice so close to your ear, and a lazy smile makes its way across your face. "That's an old joke, Kento."

"You thought it was funny."

You hum and curl yourself further into his side. "Touché."

He turns his attention half-heartedly to the glow of the television in front of you, then looks at his watch. Eight minutes to midnight. Your breathing has grown more steady again, the warm weight of you heavy and soft against him.

"You're going to miss it," he whispers, swiping his thumb over your cheek.

"Five more minutes," you murmur without opening your eyes.

Kento sighs and tucks you closer, a strong arm around your shoulders.

And he waits. 11:53...54...55...56...57...58...59...

Your voice is muffled against his sleeve when you speak again. "Aren't you going to give me a New Year's kiss?"

He chuckles, the lines around his eyes evident in the soft light of the lamp in the corner of your living room. You lift your sleepy face to him and he tucks his thumb and forefinger under your chin. He cannot fathom his good fortune when you look at him.

"I thought you'd never ask."

There are fireworks on the tv screen and in your cozy living room when your lips meet. It's not the new year celebration of your reckless youth, but it's one you'll treasure for years to come. You'll wake in the morning to your husband, your home, your cozy little life filled with all the people and moments you love. And you think to yourself that there's nothing more you could possibly want for.

#jjk x reader #nanami kento x you #happy new year my loves

[lonely-cowboy]

without you

pairing: connor (rk800) x gn!reader

summary: it's been almost three days since you last saw connor. with the ongoing revolution, you're concerned about his whereabouts. and if you'll ever see him again.

word count: 1.9k

warnings: occasional cursing but that's it

author's note: let me paint a little picture for y'all. it's currently 1am and i'm sitting on the couch in the dark sobbing like a baby bc i just finished my very first playthrough of dbh and didn't even realize i was near the end and i hate that it's over (i'm just gonna play again). anyway! my solution to stop (worsen) my sad lonely thoughts was to write this! yippee! healthy coping!

masterlist ⟡ requests

You were never a fan of staying home all day and lounging around in your pajamas doing absolutely nothing. You felt unproductive, like you were wasting time. And if there was one thing you hated more than anything, it was wasting time.

But– like anything– there were some exceptions. The most common exceptions were the days after an intense investigation, mostly those involving considerable physical exertion (which really just meant any form of running). Those days, your body was so unbelievably sore that it was almost necessary for you to stay in bed and do nothing all day. Besides that, the only other exception was the occasional rainy day. 

And now. Now was an exception too.

It was nearing three days since you had last seen Connor. Usually, that wouldn’t have bothered you. Three days was nothing. It was always possible that the two of you were just far too overwhelmed with work to see each other. But with the rising android revolution that threatened Connor’s life– and that of any android– you immediately assumed the worst.

Huddled on your couch, you stared blankly at the muted television as it flashed between news stations. You weren’t really paying attention anymore, too consumed by thoughts of Connor. You pulled your blanket tighter around your shoulders, eyebrows furrowing with concern.

Truthfully, you hadn’t known Connor that long. Sure, you worked with him frequently to investigate the sudden rise in deviants, but in the grand scheme of things, it felt like you had just met him. Of course, that didn’t stop Connor from burrowing his way into your heart with those soft doe eyes and that gentle, slightly confused smile. You had a soft spot for him now, so it was perfectly reasonable that you couldn’t help but worry for his safety. 

You released a heavy sigh as you turned off the television, trying to shake away any negative thoughts. With narrowed eyes, you glanced at the other end of the couch where Hank had been sitting almost three hours ago. He had been checking in on you frequently the last few days to make sure you were– at the very least– living, though he would never admit it. Whenever he did stop by, it was always because he “forgot his jacket” or “couldn’t watch the Detroit Gears game at home.” Whatever lame excuse he came up with, it was always intended to ensure you were okay. 

Today’s lame excuse was that he ran out of beer and didn’t want to go to the store during such a “crazy fucking time.” That ended with the two of you sitting in silence on your couch, watching the television for any sign that Connor might be okay. In your book, that just meant he wasn’t dead.

But eventually, Hank had been pulled away to the precinct for whatever reason. He promised he’d make it short. He was reluctant to go anyway, so he wouldn’t be gone long. Three hours felt pretty fucking long to you.

You pursed your lips worriedly, forgetting Connor for a moment as your mind was now focused on Hank’s safety. What if he somehow got himself tangled up in this revolution? What if he managed to get caught in some wild crossfire with no means of telling you?

No, that was crazy. You were being irrational. Surely he just decided to brave going to the store to get some more beer once he left the precinct, right? That made so much sense. Obviously, he was outside your apartment building right now struggling to get in because he didn’t have a key and was too preoccupied carrying his mountains of beer. Obviously…

Without thinking, you scurried into your closet and pulled on your warmest clothes. You threw your thickest jacket over your pajamas, not bothering to hide your snowflake pajama pants. You pulled on your shoes and a beanie, ignoring the way it matted your hair. Then, you were out the door and rushing downstairs with the belief that you could miraculously manifest Hank’s presence.

There was no other explanation. You were blessed with some magical powers that you were yet to understand because as you marched into the snow, Hank suddenly appeared. You didn’t stop until you were jabbing a finger into his chest, glaring up at his towering figure.

“What is wrong with you?” you seethed. “You can’t just leave like that!”

Hank sighed with what sounded like irritation, though you knew he could never be irritated with you. He raised his hands in mock surrender as he grumbled, “Sorry, kid, I–”

“Oh, no, no, no! I’m not done!” you growled, choosing to ignore that maybe you were being a little overdramatic. What’s life without a little drama anyway? “You had me fucking worried, Hank! I’m already worried sick about Connor, I don’t have the energy to worry about both of you!”

Hank said your name in an attempt to stop you, but it was no use. Now that you had an outlet to channel your jumble of emotions, you were going to let them all out.

“I mean, you’ve seen me, Hank! I can barely get out of bed because of that goddamn android!” you shouted. “His safety is the only thing on my–”

Hank rolled his eyes as he grumbled something about how he was “tired of this shit” that didn’t involve him. That only seemed to fuel your fire, the crease between your brows deepening with anger and worry. You opened your mouth again to yell at Hank as he stepped aside, but you quickly shut it once you noticed the figure standing bashfully behind him.  

Connor stood a few feet away having clearly been told to stay put once Hank saw your angry self storming out of the apartment building. His hands were clasped neatly behind his back, standing tall against the harsh winter winds. His eyes were already on you, watching you with a warm glint. When you met his gaze, the corners of his lips turned upwards into a small, unsure smile. 

Compared to him, you were sure you looked absolutely stupid. No, no matter what you looked completely stupid. You stared at Connor with absurdly wide eyes, mouth opening and closing like a confused fish. You were so baffled by his appearance that you couldn’t even move, no wonder the poor man was confused. All this while wearing your stupid fucking snowflake pajamas.

Neither of you made any effort to close the uncomfortable distance between the two of you. You were thankful that Hank managed to find his way back into your apartment building because you would be a doubly flustered mess if he saw how awkward the two of you were. At least Connor made some effort to communicate. He raised a hand in an awkward wave, his soft voice barely heard over the din of the wind. 

“Hello.”

Your feet were moving before your brain could catch up. You sprinted towards Connor– though it was more of a fast waddle if anything– and pulled him into a tight hug. A heavy sigh of relief left your lips as you felt his firm body against you, inhaling his scent slowly. He was real.

You squeezed him a little tighter, burying your head into his chest. It was as if you didn’t want to let him go, and truthfully, you didn’t. You couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing him again.

Connor’s arms wrapped lightly around your body. He leaned into your touch, relaxing in your arms with a comforted grin. Until you, he had no idea what it was like to be cared for. Perhaps the greatest gift of consciousness was your affection.

Connor murmured your name in a quiet rasp, his lips moving against your hair. He reared back to catch your eyes, but you refused to let him. You just held him closer and allowed yourself to calm in his presence. When you finally did pull away, you glanced at him with a confusing look of joy, sadness, and anger.

“I didn’t think you were ever coming back,” you mumbled, letting the words spill out. “I was so scared… Connor, I… God, I missed you…”

There was a beat of silence as Connor’s LED spiraled yellow, his head tilted to the slightest degree. It seemed as if he was struggling to find the right words out.

“I…,” Connor started hoarsely. “I think… I missed you too.”

Despite the whirlwind of emotions you felt, you couldn’t help but laugh at Connor’s words. A small smile traced your lips as you studied him with furrowed brows.

“You think?” you repeated with another quiet laugh, your breath pluming in the cold air.

Connor paused again, his LED flashing yellow once more. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it as he considered his words a moment longer. He was looking into the distance, but when he glanced back down to you it was as if all the right words suddenly came to him.

“I don’t know what it feels like to miss someone,” he explained softly. “But I think… I think this is what it would feel like. I felt… I don’t know… there was a tightness inside of me when I thought I would never see you again. Is that what it’s like to miss someone?”

Your grin widened as Connor spoke. A tinge of pink coated your cheeks, and you were sure it wasn’t just from the cold.

“Maybe I’m biased, but yeah, I think so,” you answered sweetly.

“Oh,” Connor muttered as he took a moment to process that information. “Then, yes. It appears I did miss you.”

Your chest felt light from the joy of having Connor back. You were so giddy, in fact, that you didn’t even think before you were leaning forward and pressing a delicate kiss to Connor’s cheek. It was only when you pulled away that you realized what you had done, your face heating with embarrassment.

You glanced at Connor worriedly and noticed the faint blue coloring along his cheeks. It almost made you laugh seeing such a confident android turned into such a poor, flustered mess. Well, you took his silence to mean his was flustered, but his silence lasted so long that you weren’t so sure anymore.

“Connor?” you asked. “You okay?”

“Yes,” Connor replied immediately. “I was searching my database for the best way to greet someone you missed.”

It was your turn to be flustered again, eyes going wide with surprise as you murmured, “Oh. And… what did you find?”

Connor’s gaze finally focused back on you, his expression neutral aside from his fading blush. The corner of his lip quirked up slightly as his eyes searched your face like he was memorizing every little detail.

“I found that the best way to convey you missed someone is by kissing them, as you’ve done to me,” he answered in his typical matter-of-fact tone. “However, whereas you kissed my cheek, I noticed that most people kiss on the lips. I’d like to do the same if that’s alright with you.”

Your stunned silence must’ve been enough of an answer for Connor because he leaned forward with a grin. His warm hands moved to hold your cheeks, fighting off the evening chill. Your hands immediately moved to rest over top his, seeking out his warmth while his soft lips moved against yours. He pulled away far too soon for your liking, but he rested his forehead against yours as he whispered sweet words against your skin. 

“I missed you too.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

author's note: i hope you enjoyed! this is my very first post ever, so i'm a little nervous! if you have any constructive (and kind) criticism, please lmk! and if you have any requests i'd love to hear those too :)

#detroit become human #connor x reader #dbh connor x reader #rk800 x reader #dbh connor #connor rk800

[vendetta-ari]

Your fav anon is backkkkk! Hey Love! May I request a Vox (and you can include Lucifer too) x Artist (f!) reader headcannons? As I’ve said before, take your time! ♡ ♡

UGHH OH MY FUCKIN GOD IM SO SORRY IT TOOK ME THIS LONG TO GET TO YOUR ASK BRO ILYSM ANON TYSM FOR YOU PATIENCE UR FRFR MY FAV ANON ♡♡♡

anyways, here Luci + Vox x artist reader

Lucifer

~ Lucifer and you always create and paint things together, he loves your creativity and he adores your art

~ You and Luci exchange ducks on special days, like valentine's day,  Christmas, and birthdays.

~ You always exchange art tips with each other,  bother being artists and your own unique ways.

~ Many times you have painted Lucifer's ducks for him when he's feeling down.

~ You two took a picture on your anniversary and you printed it out and painted it, he hangs it up on his wall and he always says its “The best thing I've ever, ever owned my dear!” he always gets all cheery and smiles when he sees it

~ You paint lucifers nails for him, last time you made a lil duck design on them

~ People can always tell when you two have been hanging out because the two of you are all giggly and smiling covered in paint

~ You painted a mural in his room, an apple using both his and your favorite colors

~ you give all your art pieces to Luci, you tried to sell one of them and the poor guy almost cried

~ he's basically drowning in your paintings and all your artwork, he doesn't mind at all though. although he is running out of space…

~ whatever he'll just expand his room to fit more of your work.

~ you have forced Lucifer to let you do makeup on him, he wasn't too happy but you laughed your ass off at his annoyance and makeup covered face

~ He cant stay mad at you for too long though, when your mad at luci you'll grab one of his ducks and paint them a different color completely and rub paint off some off his other ducks

~ when you finally calm down you repaint all for them with him though, as an apology. 

~ the two of you often take walks through the rings of hell for inspiration 

~ surprisingly, the screams of everyone being tortured is great to get those creative juices flowing

Vox

☆ Now let's be for real here guys, Vox can't draw for shit, so him being with an artist reader is kinda cute and unique and funny

☆ But you on the other hand, “your art is beautiful! n’ it should be hung up in a museum or something like that doll, I seriously dunno how you do it”

☆ During certain shows where they need sets, props, or anything related to that, you'll be the one painting them being the first to volunteer  you totally didn't draw a dick kn one of the sets and embarrass him on live television pft- noo psh- hah why would you ever do such a thing? it must've been val!

☆ You couldn't keep your laughter when Vox drew that picture of Alastor when be was throwing his hissy fit on live television 

☆ you redraw a picture of Alastor for Vox to tear up crumble and kick around as a stress reliever 

☆ Vox realized that you drew a picture of Alastor, didn't matter what it was for you still drew him, just then he got angry again and demanded that you draw a picture of him

☆ just one more thing to stroke his ego I suppose 

☆ You and velvette are besties, she often steals you away from Vox so you two can draw up outfits

☆ and he totally doesn't ever never get mad at her because of that

☆ You often draw in a red and blue journal Vox gave you as a gift once, it was in a whim but you still love it dearly 

☆ you draw pictures of him and you together with little hearts around them, but vox doesn't need to know that

☆ but one time he did look through your journal, out of curiosity. trying to hide the blush that spread across his face, he grabbed a pen and wrote little messages on a few of your doodles "Didn't know she was that obsessed with me" he mumbled under his breath while flipping through the pages

☆ “We're gonna recreate this photo tomorrow,  meet me at my office in 4:00 dollface” -Vox

☆ when you noticed the note you almost lost your mind fangirling over this TV man

☆So you did as you were told and met him at his office, getting there a little bit early

☆ And just like that he picked you up and carried you bridal style to his chair, kissing you softly all over, with you giggling and blushing, creating your drawing perfectly.

-xoxo, Ari

#hazbin hotel #vox x reader #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel vox #vox hazbin hotel #fluff #romantic #hazbin hotel romantic #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer #lucifer morningstar

[hellisharchive]

・﹒・ comatose dreams [1]

Summary: After suffering from a fatal car crash, you had become comatose and had no hope of waking up anytime soon. You didn't know that, however, you thought you had died. After finding yourself in Hell, you wind up landing a job with Vox as your boss. You both fall quickly and deeply, but true love doesn't always work out.

Warnings: 18+, mentions of sex, masturbation, slight StaticMoth,

Notes: This fanfic is inspired by this lovely post by @timeslugarts! I would suggest reading it for a full summary, however if you want to go in blind, then don't!

﹒Stepping Stones﹒

An entire year working for VoxTech, what was your job, you ask? Well, you started out as a simple camera operator, then worked your way up to personal assistant, and you've had a crush on the television man for a good year now. Unfortunately, Vox always seemed so out of reach, so out of your league, you never even tried to even flirt with him and hoping he'd notice. He was an Overlord, one of the Vees, you were probably seen as nothing to him. Which hurt to think about, but was true nonetheless. So, you worked and went through your days with all your feelings festering inside you, ready to burst.

"Vox, you have a meeting with Vel and Val at three pm today to discuss potential strategies with Alastor returning, would you like to cancel?" You watched him as he adjusted his bowtie, ensuring that his outfit was perfect as always. He also had a tendency to cancel his meetings, but to the chagrin of his partners since he arrengaed them in the first place, but you still forced him to attend at least some.

"No, I know if I don't they'll be on my ass about it later" Turning from the mirror, he looked at you with a bored expression before putting on one of his smiles that you thought would be fake, but it was genuine. From working with him, you've learned to identify what smiles are real and ones that aren't.

"What? Do you really want to be alone with me THAT badly?" His smile then moved to a smirk, causing you get flustered and fumble with the tablet you were holding. Shit. Was that the first time he flirted with you? Vox chuckled as you regained your bearings, clearing your throat, you tried to remain professional.

"Well no sir, I was just uh, caught off guard by your uh...assumption" You coughed as he started to walk out of the room, knowing you'll diligently follow, and you did. You shut the door behind you and followed him as he made his way to his head of operations. He didn't tell you where he was going, but you knew his route every single day, that is- if he does, you'll still follow him wherever he went. You'll always be loyal to him and him only.

"Well, let's hope I don't have to calm Valentino down again today after yesterday..." He scowled just thinking about it. Yesterday, Val had yet again another temper tantrum and you watched as your boss did his thing. It was something you've grown accustomed to with your time as the tv man's personal assistant, they both fucked with no strings attached. Sure, they weren't together, but it still squandered you telling the truth about your feelings even further.

"Hopefully not, sir" You spoke as he entered his main control room, where he could spy on everyone and everything. He mainly has been monitoring the hotel and Alastor, even when the Radio Demon was gone for seven years, he never stopped bringing him up. The deer Overlord has only been back for a few months and he was the only thing Vox brought up for entire days sometimes. You didn't mind it though, it was pretty entertaining to witness. Sitting down in his chair, you grabbed yours and sat next to him as he observed everyone, trying to find Alastor roaming around. He checked the hotel first but couldn't find him with his scope of range. Time passes as he does his daily checking and observing, replying to emails, and the like. You busy yourself with checking his schedules and any business opportunities. You didn't realize that he stopped speaking until his sudden voice breaking the silence startled you.

"Do you think he'll ever take me seriously?" He spoke oddly quiet, his usual self gone as you swore you heard the faintest crackle in his voice. Looking up from your tablet, you saw that his head was down, looking at his lap with his hands fiddling each other as a sign of nerves. Sighing, you stood up and walked in front of him. Gently setting your hand on his shoulder, it caused him to look up with a face similar to a sad puppy. Smiling softly, with your other free hand, you placed it on his other shoulder.

"I know one day he will, sir. Trust me, you'll beat him and be the strongest overlord in Hell" You almost said "with me by your side" but refrained, knowing it was best not to mention that at all to him. This was about cheering him up, not entertaining your stupid fantasies. But, you saw as a digital blush faintly appear on his screen made your heart leap. You? A measly assistant managed to make THE Vox blush? You two were entranced, the feeling of leaning closer overwhelmed you as you both slowly inched closer and closer. What were you doing? You both were about six inches apart as he placed a hand over yours, now smiling devilishly as he chuckled.

"Of course I will, I just need someone by my side to do it" Did he...? You didn't have to fully process what he meant by that as you saw Vox's screen change to an incoming call with a ring. The moment ended as you cleared your throat and pulled away, taking your hands off his shoulders like they became fire. Of course- Valentino.

"Are you fucking-" He scowled as he transmitted the video call to one of his many screens, showing a very scandalously clad moth lounging on his bed, smoking and turning the screen into red before dissipating.

"Hey Voxy~ I need a fuck and I need it now. Angel Dust won't return my calls" Now, you weren't the biggest fan of Valentino, despite Vox also not being the best. But even as a sinner, you still did not agree with how that man treated others, especially his main star. Hearing the fact that he was demanding sex from your boss made your blood boil, yet you remained calm and neutral.

"Not now Val, find one of your other whores to fuck, I'm not in the mood" He didn't try to hide is displeasure as he held a very pissed off face staring at the pimp. Usually Vox never denied having sex with Valentino, so the sudden anger surpised you. Valentino just sighed, leaning closer to the camera. You weren't sure if he could see you, you hoped he didn't.

"You aren't fucking anyone else, right baby?" The question gave you whiplash despite not being the receiver. The moth sounded innocuous when you knew very well he manipulated Vox along with others. You knew his game.

"Fuck off Val" The tv Overlord than hung up, growling as he pushed out of his chair and started to walk towards the middle of the room. Following him, he headed back into the rest of the tower and back to his room. Before you could step in, he stood in the doorway, preventing your access.

"Don't bother me, do whatever the fuck you want for the next few hours, I don't care" and just like that, he slammed the door in your face. What the hell just happened? Taking a deep breath in, you mull over what you could possibly do when you decide to just take a walk. You needed some time outside the tower every once a while, so a walk would be perfect. Not wanting to head out in your work attire, you head to your room which was right next to Vox's (easier to be his assistant with you so close) and change. As you walked by your boss' door, you heard him panting and immediately flushed, walking away quickly as it felt wrong to hear him masturbate. You did walk in on him one time by pure accident and even to to this day he still teases you over it and makes fun of you. As you passed by, you could have sworn you heard him moan out your name, but he couldn't have. Right? Your ears were just playing tricks on you. Rushing past, opting to ignore it entirely, you went on your walk.

#vox #vox x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel x reader #staticmoth #voxval

[yesimwriting]

Okay?

--

A/n guess who watched the five nights at freddy's movie for matthew lillard and josh hutcherson and actually really liked it, so i wrote this :)

Summary: The one good thing about working the nightshift? You're always there when Mike gets back.

----

Your nails press into the fabric bundled on your lap. It's simple, the way you pinch and fold the corner of the blanket before straightening it again. The gesture is clearly subconscious, just something for your hands to do while your eyes remain focused on the TV screen. Mike should be doing the exact same thing.

He should be staring at the television, taking in the end of the movie you were watching when he got home from work. A classic, you had called it, expressing your shock when Mike had innocently mentioned that he'd never seen it.

Normally, a reaction like that would have left some small part of him tangled in on itself. But from you, it felt gentle. That's part of the appeal of having you around. You're warm and everything about you is so easy it circles around back to difficult.

Stop it. Mike's getting used to scolding himself on late nights and early mornings that blur together like this. He's always begging himself not to notice the way your presence manages to tug at him.

Mike swallows once, forcing his head to snap back to the screen. The credits are rolling and the only thing he's gathered is maybe the name of one character and the way you part your lips slightly to exhale when something intense happens. Great.

"See?" You turn your head, tugging at the blanket, pulling more of it onto your legs. "It's good." You shift so that you can face him, your knee briefly brushing against his leg. "Right?"

There's so much optimism in the way you're looking at him, wide eyes and an expecting, almost smile, that a part of him feels a little guilty for not having retained anything.

"It was...good," he starts slowly, his pace a beat too slow to feel natural, "But I don't know about classic."

Your mouth falls open in a dramatized display of shock before your lips pull together into an offended pout. "You know it was that good." Not your most profound argument, but it's late and your everything's starting to feel heavier. It's taking enough energy to keep the weight of your eyelids from overpowering the desire to talk to him. "You're just being difficult."

Mike's eyebrows draw together, equal parts surprised and amused. You're not exactly closed off when you're fully coherent, but his schedule and your position as an ever growing babysitter for Abby has let him learn that a drowsy you doesn't shy away from bluntness. You'll call him out more openly in a way that you'd just keep in your head if you were better rested.

"Difficult?" You nod, solidifying your stance. He lets out a partial sigh that's meant to hold the place of a laugh. "I only saw the last fifteen minutes."

You frown dismissively, like Mike should know better than to see that fact as relevant. "Then I'll have to show you--" Your sentence is broken by a small yawn that you cover with your hand. "The rest some time."

The potential for intentional plans hits him hard enough to briefly chase away his drowsiness. "Yeah." He blinks hard, trying not to think about it too much. You say a lot of things when you're tired. "Some time."

You nod, the motion distinct, like you guys really have just settled something important. A cruel sort of warmth begins to crawl up his chest and settles against his neck. He needs to let it go, to get back to only seeing you as an outgoing, friendly face that's always willing to help him out with Abby. Nothing good can come from him developing feelings for you that are more than friendly. He'd mess it up in one way or another and you'd walk away and he...

Mike can't deal with the thought of you walking away. And more importantly, Abby shouldn't have to.

"Good." You push yourself so that your back's off the couch. The blanket shifts, nearly sliding over your knee before you catch it. "I should--I should get going...it's late."

Right. This part of the night. The awareness of what comes next constricts his airways. It must, there's no other explanation for the way he struggles to take a full breath. "You didn't drive today."

For the first time since the movie ended, you drop your attention to your lap. "Uh...no." You squeeze your hands together. "The engine's still a little..."

Mike sighs. Sometimes it feels like your car is more of a topic of conversation than actual guaranteed mode of transportation. Maybe if you let him pay you for babysitting, you wouldn't constantly be fighting with an engine that's likely significantly older than Abby.

The thought of you being forced to brave the cold whenever your car's having what you usually refer to as an "episode" digs at him strangely. Mike also doesn't love the thought of you walking here alone so late.

"Maybe if you let me pay you for watching Abby." The sentence is more of a huff than Mike wanted it to be, a pinch of real annoyance leaking into his voice.

You frown. "It's too late for this." The TV's low lighting doesn't let Mike read your expression fully. "And I already told you, it feels weird to charge friends for favors."

The word friend sticks out in a way Mike doesn't get. It's meaning is suddenly too abstract and concrete all at once. "Weirder than guessing whether or not your truck's going to work every morning?"

You roll your eyes, pulling more of the blanket onto your lap. "It's not every morning." He raises his eyebrows at that. "Seriously. Rebecca is fine." The name nearly forces him to abandon his point. Abby had picked it out early on into knowing you. "She's just occasionally temperamental."

"Occasionally." He ignores your heavy glare. "You could..." Mike's throat goes dry. He knows what the next part in your usual exchange is. "Stay over..." The words feel much too slow, too careful, to come off as casually as Mike wanted them to. "If you want."

Staying over used to be as casual as an extra throw blanket on the couch. Then, overly cold weather paired with difficulty sleeping and the kind of thoughtless decisions people only ever make while half asleep morphed it into something else. When it feels like more work than it's worth to get you back home, the two of you usually end up in Mike's room.

It's all perfectly innocent and carefully unspoken. The two of you barely let your hands touch and even when you're genuinely half asleep, you don't say anything you wouldn't say anywhere else, and yet it's still different. Sometimes it's different enough to help Mike sleep better than the pills.

You nod, eyes now focused on the the throw blanket. Something about your expression makes Mike wonder if you're debating something. "See? If I let you pay me, I'd have to worry about things like overstaying my welcome."

Mike nods, not quite meeting your gaze. "Like that'd stop you."

Playing into the bit, you pretend to gasp before sitting up a little straighter. You raise a fist, gently bumping your knuckles against his arm. The gesture leaves that uneasy warmth clawing its way up Mike's neck.

----

You can't remember the ceiling of Mike's room becoming familiar. The soft grooves that you have to squint to make out in the dark, invisible shapes that you pretend to trace when you need a distraction.

Usually, what you need to be distracted from is Mike's proximity. Tonight, though, Mike's so curled in on himself in a way that has to--at best--border on uncomfortable. That paired with his stiffer than usual demeanor has to mean something.

You don't get why Mike's positioning reads as concerning to you until it clicks. He's pulled into himself like he wants to disappear.

The thought cracks at your heart. You and Mike are a lot more comfortable than you were when you first met. But it hasn't been that long, and you get the sense that Mike and Abby move as a family unit that keep outsiders at a safe distance. Not cold or unwelcoming, just cautious. There's so much you appreciate about their friendship, about Mike, and you know that it'd be easy to blow up.

Maybe you can pretend to be too close to sleep to notice and cautiously bring up your concern in the morning. A passive comment, an opening that Mike can take if he wants to.

But then your body betrays the rational thoughts of your mind and you turn your head enough to see the slope of Mike's back. It hurts enough to force you to break your silence. "Mike?"

A beat of silence that has you contemplating the possibility that he already fell asleep like that. That could be a sign, the universe's way of intervening so that you don't ruin a relationship that has yet been given the opportunity to cement itself.

"Yeah," he mumbles, voice low and uncharacteristically raspy. Mike doesn't turn over, which might not mean anything, but still makes you frown. "You okay?"

The question snaps you out of your train of thought. Of course Mike's wondering if you're okay. It's not that the two of you never talk before falling asleep, but the two of you have been quiet for so long, and now you're bothering him because of--what? A gut feeling?

"Yeah," you whisper back, a little too quickly, "Yeah, I'm--" You cut yourself off, not sure where you're going with this. You're not even sure what you're worried about, or what you want to ask. "Are you?" Echoing the question makes you feel much smaller than you did a second ago. "Okay?"

Another stretch of silence. "Yeah."

It'd be easy to leave it at that. You should leave it at that. "Okay." You swallow, trying to figure out what you're even looking for. "Because if--if you--" You sigh, eyes focusing on his back. "I don't know what it is, and it might be in my head, but you seem kind of..." You trail off, incapable of explaining it any better.

Mike sighs. You don't know what to make of the sound until the mattress shifts beneath the adjustment of his weight. Mike moves so that he's lying flat on his back. It's instinct to push yourself back to give him the space he needs to adjust. Despite your exhaustion, you lift your head, propping yourself up on one elbow.

His eyes are open. You're surprised by how coherent he seems. "I'm okay."

You study him much more openly than you've ever let yourself. His tone is sure enough and even though it's dark, you can feel that his eyes are on you. It's convincing...a little too convincing when he could have just pointed out that you're acting kind of crazy.

"Abby's right," you mumble, "You're a bad liar."

"I'm not--" Mike stops himself, finding it a little harder to hold your gaze and keep his voice steady. There's so much patience in the way you're watching him. "I'm fine, just tired."

You don't fully believe him, but a part of you wants to and there's no way you're getting anywhere tonight. You'll keep trying, and when Mike's ready to talk, he'll talk. Rationally, you know that letting him think you believe him isn't the end of the world. It's not like you're giving up on him. But the word tired had come out so fragilely.

Without your permission, the hand that's not tucked against your cheek reaches forward. Your fingers brush against the back of his wrist. The contact leaves air tangled in your lungs. When the world doesn't end and Mike doesn't pull away or give any indication that there's something wrong, you start to intertwine your fingers. Mike lets you, so stiff you'd consider him passive if it wasn't for the way he squeezed your hand back.

Another wave of silence takes over, this one lasting so long you're not sure what's supposed to come next. Maybe you should have laid back down and fallen asleep already. "You guys talk about me?"

The question's almost enough to make you laugh. "Yeah," it's broken up through a partial giggle as you move to lay down again, "The other day, right after you left Abby started th--" His head is turned towards you, eyebrows pulled together skeptically. Maybe some things are left better said just between you and Abby. "Never mind, I--I forgot that when you leave Abby and I just sit in respectful silence until you get back."

"Mhm," he breathes, his hold on your hand briefly tightening in a comforting squeeze. "Are you going to sleep now?"

The question reminds you of the heaviness pulling at your eyelids. "Yeah." You're satisfied with ending it here. For now. "Goodnight."

He lets out a huff of air that you can't interpret. His thumb drags over your knuckles slowly. "Goodnight."

#mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #josh hutcherson #fnaf movie #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt fluff

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Don't Speak 32

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, allusions to abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: 👀

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You turn off the heater as you look one last time over the space. Everything's set away neatly as the falcon sits on oak leaves, its feathers carefully forged from the streaks of your brush. You're proud, you're so close to done and you've always struggled with following through. You'll be sure to tell Steve, you mean, Dr. Kemp at your next session.

Or tomorrow.

You catch yourself smiling at that thought. No, you shouldn't be so happy. He's your therapist. He's helping you. It's his job. But he said he's your friend, didn't he?

You close the garage door behind you and lock it. The TV blasts loudly from the front room and your mood quickly grays. You leave your slip-ons by the door and tiptoe towards the den. 

It's empty. Sports commentators sit around a desk talking about stats and numbers you don't understand. Andy isn't there. Only the empty beer bottles across the coffee table.

You go into the kitchen but don't find him there either. Is he upset? Maybe he went to bed.

You turn off the television and shut off the lights before you head upstairs. You pad up slowly, dragging your hand on the railing as you yawn. You'll make it up by cooking breakfast. For now, you just want to sleep. You hope some cuddling can placate him.

As you turn down the hall, you notice his room is open and the lights are off. Yet the door closer to you, the guest room where you used to sleep, is lit up. You near, your chest dropping as you hear the flutter of pages. 

You peek around the door frame and your lip trembles. He's not supposed to do that! Dr. Kemp said he can't do that.

You watch Andy as he holds your journal, scowling as he sits on the side of the bed. His shoulders slump unevenly as he curls his lips at the pages. He shakes his head and grumbles as he reads.

"Andy," you step into the doorway, "hey, that's mine."

You stomp towards him, your anger overriding any fear. You grab for the journal as he looks up at you, blue eyes cloudy and brow furrowed. He holds the book out of reach as he stands. You back-up as he towers over you.

"Is this yours too?" He shows the vibrator in his other hand, "hmmm," he slurs slightly as he looks down at the pages again, "'Dr. Kemp gave me a gift. I don't know if I should open it though. I don't know what to do with it…'" he curls a finger around the slender bullet toy and flips through the pages, reading more, "'Today Dr. Kemp taught me how to use the toy and relax. It felt good but it's hard to focus.'" He stops and swallows, "I tried but I couldn't think of Andy. It felt wrong."

He snaps shut your journal and flings it just past you, the force gusting against your side as you flinch. You whimper and back away. He was never meant to see that. Those are your personal thoughts. 

"Andy, that's my journal–"

"What? You still don't love me?" He lumbers forward, slightly off kilter, "you'd rather–" he shows the toy and clicks the button, "a piece of plastic!?"

"No, no, it wasn't… it's to help me so… so I know what to do. Dr. Kemp–"

"He gave you this. He gave you this and you didn't tell me," his voice grows louder and louder as you shrink smaller and smaller, "you won't even let me try to make you feel good."

He shakes his head, as if trying to escape some unseen veil. He whips the toy away from him, leaving a dent on the wall as the buzz stops and it bounces onto the floor. You fold your hands against your chest and retreat step by step.

"I'm scared, Andy," you sniffle. 

"And I'm hurt," he snarls and lunges for you.

You yipe and beat against his chest as he clutches your arms. He squeezes so tight you cry out. He's so strong you can't resist him. You push on his stomach, trying to wriggle free as he teeters around with you trapped.

"Andy, please, please, I never--I didn't mean anything. I was only… I was trying to be better. Like you want me to. Please, please," you put your hands on his thick arms, the strength cording in his biceps, "don't hurt me. Please. Please, I'll be better, I'll be better."

He stills, keeping his grip above your elbows. His long lashes flick and he scowls down at you, "you think I would hurt you. After everything I've done. You think I would…" his eyes glisten and he turns to grit his jaw at the wall. "You don't love me."

"No, Andy, I love you, I do," you babble. Just say what he wants. That's all you can do, "I do, please…"

"Then why are you so fucking scared?" He turns to you and grabs your chin, bending to look you in the eye. You squirm and grasp his wrist, on your toes as he nearly chokes you. "I've waited… I've been nice…" 

He turns with you almost dangling from his hold. Your feet drag on the floor as you stumble. You whine as he walks you back. You're dizzy with his force and the way he moves you so easily.

"Please," you croak.

"You wanna see what a real man is like," he shoves you so you hit the foot of the bed and land on your back, "not some stupid fucking toy."

He puts his hand to the front of his jeans and you gulp. Your heart pounds like thunder, vision flashing like lightning as the storm of horror consumes you. You push yourself up as he fumbles with his zipper.

"Andy, let's go to bed–"

"Shut up," he barks and pushes you back down.

You bite your tongue as you fall heavy again. You push yourself up onto the mattress, dragging yourself backwards away from him. He leaves his jeans open as he advances on you, staggering as he jostles the bed, climbing up on his knees.

He reaches for you and you turn, crawling away frantically, desperate to get to the edge. He grabs your waist and hauls you back, collapsing his weight on you. You writhe, clawing at the covers as they slip down from the bed.

You're stuck pinned beneath him as he breathes into your scalp. He smells like beer and spit. He suffocates you to a panic, the walls closing in and a fiery heat scalding across your flesh.

"And-dy," you whimper as he hooks his arm around your neck, forcing your head up as your arms flail across the bed, "Andy….please…"

"Shhh, baby, it's okay," he nuzzles your crown, "you wanna feel good. I'm gonna make you feel good. Huh?" He tightens his arm so his bicep presses against your throat, "or did you lie about that too?"

"N-no, please, it hurts," you sob.

"It won't hurt if you stop," he bends his arm until you can't breathe, jutting his chin against your skull, "stop fucking moving."

You freeze. His timbre alone is a threat. He puffs, the alcoholic taint curdling in your nose as he brings his other arm between you.

As he keeps his arm under your neck, he forces you to arch your spine, his nails scratching your lower back as he grips the back of your pants. You close your eyes as you quiver. You feel your chest tearing apart, your nerves pinging wildly, your entire being falling to pieces.

Love, love, they all say love before they hurt you.

He rips down the back of your jeans and growls. The force of it jerks your limp body. You try not to think as his hot breath slips down the side of your face.

He rolls the denim down, quickly tugging down your panties and baring your ass. You squeak as your naked flesh rubs against the vee of his open zipper. He pulls his hand away, leaning on one knee as he lifts his pelvis, feeling between your bodies.

He grunts and shifts, further bouncing the bed under you. He plants both knees and snakes his arm beneath you, keeping his other at your throat. He wiggles as he feels along your pelvis, nudging your legs as far apart as they can go against the denim.

He dips his hips down as you feel his tip along the curve of your ass. Your heart drums behind your ears, drowning out his raspy groans as his fingers frame your cunt and part your lips. You clench, bracing the bed as salty tears slip free and stain the blanket beneath. 

He catches his tip between his knuckles and jerks. He slides to your entrance and prods, tilting awkwardly until he can line up. He pushes, straining you dryly. He bucks, trying to force his way in and you shriek.

He grunts and tries again, the chafe sparking a fire inside of you. You reach back, grasping the slack fabric of his jeans as you keep your other hand fisted around the blanket. He thrusts again, grinding in another inch as you exclaim.

You babble and bawl as he rocks. You feel his frustration at the resistance of your body. You try to let him in, try not to feel and just let it happen. 

As he splits you, burying himself deep, you let out a horrid cry. Your head dangles over his forearm as you sob against the bedding and he puffs into the crook of your neck. He eases back slowly before sinking in again. Your squirming does little to deter him.

His nose tickles your temple and he bows down to kiss your cheek as he begins a tempo. Long, slow, and torturous. Each dip inside is worse than the last. 

"Baby, doesn't that feel good? Don't I feel good? Hmm, better than the toy?" He kisses your cheek again, "you feel good on me."

You gulp and choke on the eruption of tears. His groans and growls seep into you, his body rumbling with the delight he takes in your destruction. Your terror fades to disbelief and the well dries up, leaving you silent and staring.

"Tell me, honey, tell me I feel good. Tell me it's better." His hand creeps up to grope your chest as he pumps into you.

You shudder and turn your face down. You hide in the darkness of your eyelids. Your body is racked in agony and repulsion.

"Yes…" you utter as his arm loosens around your neck, "yes, it's…" you squeal as he ruts too hard, "good!"

"Mmmm, yeah, baby, this is what you want. You're just too afraid… this is what we need. Both of us…" he sighs as he fucks you into the bed.

He flattens you against the mattress as his pelvis claps against you. He keeps you arched awkwardly as he rams into you over and over. The tension tautens his muscles and he drops his head down to nibble at your ear.

This isn't happening. It isn't happening. It can't be. It can't. 

You repeat your denial over and over. Trying to convince yourself that this isn't real. That you can't feel a thing. 

You're not in your body. You're somewhere else. You're not there. Even if you are, it won't last forever. It will end and you'll be left to wallow.

Alone. Amber isn't coming to comfort you now.

🕊️

The world is foggy. You stare into nothing, your surroundings nothing more than shadows. You're in a void. You never want to think or feel again.

You won't cry. Not anymore. You have nothing left.

A footstep makes you wince. You can hear… him. You roll onto your side and whimper. You hurt everywhere.

You smell him on the pillow and the blankets. You reek of him. You realise then you're not in the same bed, you're in his.

His voice drones indiscernible outside the room as you hide beneath the duvet. His tone brings you back, him cooing as he carries you down the hall, laying you down, undressing you, touching you all over. Doing that again.

You suck in your lower lip and fight the tide rolling under the surface. He gets closer, you can hear him more clearly even if you try not to. The door opens and his shadow looms against the wall. 

"Thanks for checking in. No, she's okay. We went out for breakfast," he explains as you feel his gaze through the layers between you, "something upset her stomach, she's laying down." A pause, the garbled response from the phone speaker, "I'll tell her you say hi. She should be fine in no time. Yep, okay, doc, thanks again."

He sighs as he hangs up. He puts the phone down heavily and nears the bed. You feel it dip by your feet as he climbs up, crawling up your body as he tugs at your only shield. He peels away the duvet, slipping beneath it as he once more smothers you beneath him. 

"Mmm, honey," he holds himself over you as he urges you flat on your back, "you're delicious…" he kisses along your shoulders and across your chest, "beautiful, you know that?" He purrs, the tip of his nose sending chills through you, "you're a bad girl, keeping all this from me…" he pinch your nipple with his teeth and you squeak, "will you be a good girl for me, dove?"

You nod frantically. Whatever it takes to make him stop touching you. You'll do whatever he wants if it means he'll leave you alone. Maybe not forever, but eventually.

"Good," he kisses along your stomach, "that's all I ever wanted… to be good to you. To be good for you."

Your muscles tie and you lock your hands in fists. He descends your body inch by inch. You roll your eyes back, drifting into oblivion.

It's not forever. Nothing is.

#don't speak #andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #series #defending jacob #librarian au #fresh #steve kemp

[puppyguppy]

There's a buzz in the room, a buzz in your bones, but it takes you a few minutes to figure out why. To parse through the various possibilities, probabilities; to figure out the specific frequency and then fixate on it. It's not the television, which you'd earlier turned down to something barely above pleasant mumble. It's mostly just background noise, and the flickering light of a mellow Monday, sometime close to midnight. It's not the hum and occasional, contained clunk and thunk of ice being made in your fridge. And, the screen of your phone remains just as dark as it has been the last couple of hours or so, over on the sidetable. So, it wasn't the vibrations of someone trying to contact you. Lost on confusion and curiosity though, you don't notice that your hand stops. Not until that buzzing suddenly stops, too. You blink, back into your body, and just what your body had been doing. Experimentally, you knead and rub your fingers again, deep into long, soft locks and against a silky scalp. It takes a few seconds -- for that sound, that feeling, to start back up again. And for you to finally figure it out. It's him. Shouta. And he's practically purring in your lap, the air between your legs warm and humid, where he breathes and somehow doesn't suffocate. You've always been just a little claustrophobic; can only have your face covered for so long, by anything other than a mask (or a hand). Meanwhile, the man in your lap falls face-first into so many things; pillows, cushions, blankets, beds (your chest) and can not only sleep like that, but live like that, comfortable and content. He might be feeling a bit more then contentedness right now, though. Were he actually the cat he impersonated so well, you wouldn't be surprised at all to see the slow, rhythmic swish and flick of a tail. Or the droop and twitch of ears. Maybe he'd even go so far as to make biscuits out of your thighs. As it is, he hums and groans against the inseam of your jeans, while you fulfil one of life's few guilty pleasures. Not that you feel guilty about it, gods no, how could you? This was a fucking privilege. An honor, to partake in such a secret practice; petting the Underground Hero Eraserhead into a sleepy, satisfied puddle. You've earned this. You worked hard to get here. And you'll never tell a single other soul, because he has an image to uphold. A reputation to keep. And he'll kill you, if you ever slip. Or, at the very least, let you deal with the villains that learn of such a weakness. Absentmindedly, you drag your nails down the nape of his neck, and his responding shiver rattles through the couch. It's hard to tell, what with the shadows of the room, and the socks on his feet, but you're pretty sure you even see his toes curl from out the corner of your eye. Your heart swells, but your core clenches. You're acting on an idea before it's even fully formed in your head. So it's an impulse, really -- to curl your fingers into a fist, white your knuckles with tension as you knot his hair amidst the clammy palm of your hand, and then pull. You don't yank his hair, but you pull on the strands slowly, steadily, until the pressure brings his head up and off of your lap. And then higher, and higher, until his neck is bent back, and you can look down at his face as he pants into the room. Eyes screwed shut, lashes fluttering, brows crinkled; cheekbones flushed, blushed, but you're not sure if it's from the residual heat of your thighs, or this exact moment. It's another secret, this. How he likes it. This. How he likes it like this. Beautiful, you often call him. Pretty. Handsome, and on on occasion, cute. But, when the mood strikes, like right now? "Gorgeous," is what you call him. "Just wanted to see your face." And, no longer muffled by the flesh and fabric of your crotch, you feel that buzz for exactly what it is. Feel it, hear it, see it, as his mouth drops open just a bit, just enough, to moan.

#midnight munchies for the bestie #aizawa x y/n #aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta #aizawa #eraserhead #gender neutral reader #we love a man not afraid to moan #not inspired by a tiktok for once!