#'THIS IS DISGUSTING LOL' and then she bites clean into it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

satoruhour · 1 year ago

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hello!! ive been lurking on your acc for a little bit and i absolutely adore your writing like omg!! but earlier i got to thinkin about toji (as we all do) and i was thinking about how vulgar i imagine him to be in a sexual context and it makes me like soo shy and im not shy 🙄 im just obsessed with the idea of him saying really filthy shit to us and then practicing what he preaches yk

PRACTISE WHAT YOU PREACH

a/n: i keep falling asleep on the couch writing. and thank u for the inspiration for the name LOL

wc: 2.4k

warnings: reader has the same bite to her as toji does but gets shy when said man says filthy things, dom!toji, implication of sex in parts of the drabble, (public) dirty talk, pet names, he calls you ‘whore’ and ‘slut‘, toji calls you ‘mama’ once, oral (m receiving), deepthroating, spitting (on hand and in mouth), p -> v penetration, clit stimulation, unprotected sex, riidng, praise, degradation, daddy kink at the end, creampie / breeding kink, brief oral / cunnilingus @ the end, n*sfw under the cut

fushiguro toji is a vulgar man inside and out. It’s obvious when he tells the teenage boys to go fuck themselves when he catches them looking at you and you have to slap his bicep, or perhaps grabbing a piece of your ass while waiting in line to pay for groceries and all you can do is send him a nasty glare and a strong nudge of your elbow.

he doesn’t mind his baby fighting back, especially with how easily he can overturn the tables and have you squirming and breathing heavily whenever he gets you under him in the bedroom.

it comes to light first when you’re talking with a co-worker at a company party, talking casually with them before toji comes over with both your drinks. he’s tamer, then, sucking up to your insufferable colleagues even if they didn’t know what they were saying. this dude was clearly eyeing you, too, despite knowing toji was your plus one, and at that point the poor man has had enough.

“how ’bout you invite him back to our hotel and let him watch as i fuck you? maybe then he would stop fucking starin’.” toji passes you your drink as he whispers it, albeit the last part filled with mild bitterness, not entirely as secretive as he would like to be because the colleague’s eyes are widening immediately. he swallows his saliva at the large stature of your boyfriend’s and you just know he did it on purpose. but when you don’t reply and bark back at him with annoyance, toji’s lips curl in a smile, a light bulb going off in his head at his discovery and he’s been incessant since.

“yeah? how ’bout you clean a bathroom for once, fucker,” you roll your eyes, throwing a rag into the bathroom sink, disgruntled at how your boyfriend couldn’t even clean his own sink. it was beyond him to clean the place where water flowed everyday but when he told you that all you could muster was a look of disgust.

you were in no mood for him when you saw him creep in behind you in the mirror, eyes trained on the male who just mutters apologies into your neck, kissing the skin there like a tease and resist the urge to shiver, keeping up your angered expression.

until his words hit. “’m sorry baby, shoulda known better than to say stupid shit like that. how ’bout i make it up to you?”

“like what, toji? you gonna get on your hands and knees and scrub the floors yourself? cause i’d like th—”

“i’ll do it,” but not for the reason you think, “i’ll do it if i get to eat my pretty girl’s pussy out. and then let me pound her while she watches how good i make her feel.”

needless to say, your panties were thrown in the washing machine immediately as he made your moans echo in that squeezy bathroom, and the sink ended up being squeaky clean for the next few weeks.

it’s the best way to get you to shut up and sometimes the way your lips move as you’re rambling about something or how your figure looks as you’re reaching for the tv remote and spouting profanities is just so hypnotising. he’s obsessed with you.

toji stares blankly at you while you’re explaining the way to work the air fryer for the third time that day, and it’s not his fault you’re currently in a camisole. it’s accentuating your tits and the home shorts you’re in isn’t helping either, because he can easily swipe it to the side to fuck into you.

you snap your fingers in front of his face, “wha—? listen to me when i’m talking to you, babe.”

toji just rolls his eyes, something he knows you hate, and he watches your outburst with a lovestruck smile. he catches your snapping hand with ease, switching to holding it. “hey! what did i say about rolling eyes?”

he leans forward, placing his other hand dangerously close to your ass, but the forehead peck distracts you. “i heard you the first time, darling.”

“you—!” toji just laughs at your surprise. sure, he was old as fuck but he wasn’t entirely clueless about the air fryer, but he let you explain and drone on about the settings, knowing you’d be focused on the device. that way, his eyes could travel unforgivingly and just like that, the playful moment is overcome by his vulgar disposition again, the act of his body craving yours before his words made you freeze on the spot.

“but enough about air fryers, hm?” the sight of toji��s hand almost covering yours was enough to send you reeling, but it’s increased when he drags your hand down the hardness of his front. you can feel the ridges of his abs, down, down, down until his bulge. he guides you to squeeze his dick, a guttural groan making its way to the front of his throat. “how ’bout you show me how much your eyes can roll back as my cock disappears into you, huh?”

your breath hitches at the proposition and toji’s smile spreads into a grin at your reaction because it’s like this every. single. time. unconsciously your hands start to undo the knot of his sweatpants, pulling it under his hardened shaft, the other sighing when your hand finally wraps around it. it aches so much that he finds himself thrusting into your hand briefly before you start stroking.

toji gathers a blob of spit on his tongue and maintains eye contact, spitting directly onto his cock for some lubrication and you take a deep breath, slick noises sounding out throughout the house. he makes sure to do it again later. “getting it ready for your pretty little cunt, aren’t you? filthy girl— f-fuck…”

the words make you rub your thighs together, stepping closer to him while you continue stroking, up, down and up, down, determined to give him a taste of his own medicine. pushing him until you’re out of the kitchen, he lets you shove him onto the couch, a loud groan leaving his lips when you descend to your knees and your mouth closes around his cock.

“s’big,” you whimper, swirling your tongue around his angry tip and going back to deepthroating him, desperate to feel his dick down your throat.

“oh— s-shit, baby,” toji pulls back the hair from your head, seeing your eyes barely being able to focus as it hits the back of your throat, “that’s it… suck it like the dirty whore you are.”

the degradation is reason enough for you to bob your head quickly, moaning around his length as your mouth drips drool mixed with the pre-cum from his tip. toji chokes out your name, hips bucking into your warm mouth while your hands find purchase on his thick thighs, taking him down your throat until your nose meets his pelvis. soon he‘s cumming down your throat with grunts, feeling the hot semen rush into your cavern.

“stay there, good fuckin’ girl,” the other groans out when your eyes shift to him, swallowing bits of his cum with a small stream of tears filling your lash line that threaten to fall. he notices your hand sneaking into your panties and he smirks, bringing you off his cock to catch your breath. you sputter and gasp, hand still lightly wrapped around him. he’s still hard after cumming, but he’s also more sensitive.

“can i ride you now?” you ask like it’s any other question, shimmying out of your underwear before wasting no time to straddle him. his tip pokes your pussy and you grab him, dragging him up and down your folds to collect your slick. before long, you’re grinding on the bottom of his shaft, your labia spread along his dick and toji is charmed by how you move on him with needy moans and two hands on his torso.

“sure ya can, doll, but…” you can tell toji’s impatient, as with you, so with a roll of your eyes (toji mumbles under his breath that you’re a hypocrite), you sink down slowly on him, the arousal of your cunt wet enough to take him without prep. inch by inch you take him deep, head thrown back as toji enjoys the view — the curve of your body, how your nipples poke through your camisole — and he smiles as his baby calls out his name from being so full.

“o-oh my god… toji—” the last bits of his name fades out when he moves his hips experimentally, the pain soon fading into pleasure and the feel of his cock in you causes you to lean forward.

“yes?” he grins, body now propped up with his elbows, meeting you halfway, “is my princess tired already?”

“n-no, i can do it,” you mewl when your hips start to bounce, the stretch of his dick feeling so good. he’s reaching places in you that you can’t even fathom, “i can take you…”

toji groans softly at your declaration, body twisted in such pleasure as you soon find a rhythm on him, relishing in the way toji watches you with lust in his eyes. he helps you with a hand on your hips, but the other pushes your top past your tits, mouth latching onto your nipple and taking one into his mouth and the gesture halts your movement for a bit. a chill runs through your body as he swirls his tongue around your bud, a breathless moan leaving you as toji looks up at you through hooded eyes.

it’s got you clenching, and toji hums into your chest, moving to your other nipple before releasing it with a pop! “tired?”

you make a small sound of agreement, the sensations of his thick cock in you paired with his lips on your tits and the burn of your thighs too much for you. he happily indulges you, bringing your body close to him before he plants his feet on the sofa and fucks up into you, a choked moan leaving you. that one thrust was just to tease you, limping into his embrace as he hears the slap of his balls onto your ass.

“you’re taking me alright,” toji laughs, cut off by a moan when he continues his ministrations, entranced by how you’re so wet you manage to leak down his length. with how your pussy is drooling, he rams into you easily, obscene noises of your sopping cunt against his pelvis as your sounds of pleasure comes out in little breaths.

“so wet,” toji comments softly, cock twitching from how your boobs felt against him and how your pussy feels so damn tight. it hugs him so snugly he has to will himself not to cum, but you’re making it difficult by how you call out his name in whines. “don’t tell me she was wet earlier already?”

you can hardly focus on his questions as he bullies his cock into you, body rocking from his relentless hips and the friction of your clit against his skin, but you mutter out a yes, a high-pitched one that’s got toji chuckling.

“my baby loves it when i talk dirty, huh?” you whine into his neck, arms tightening around his neck, “she loves it when i tell her how much i want to slam my cock into her pussy, yeah?” toji is ruthless, continuing to thrust while his words have very much the same effect. “or maybe she wants me to say how i want to cum deep in her cunt, filling her to the brim. shit… does she want me to fuck a baby into her?”

you clamp down around his cock with a loud moan and he stutters, “gotta stop clenching around me, darlin’, f-fuck.”

“y-yeah… wan’ that…” you pull away from your hiding place to babble out, eyes close to closing and drool dripping down the sides of your mouth. “wan’ all your cum, daddy.”

toji sucks in a breath at the name drop and in a second, he’s switching the positions. he admires the sweat on your skin and your heaving chest, and for the first time he’s able to see just how soaking wet you are, along with the stretch of your pussy on him.

“wan’ you to make me a mommy…” you mewl softly, and that’s all it takes for the other to start moving again because if it’s anything he loves more than seeing you crumble at his words, it’s how you tell him what you want.

you can feel toji twitch in you at that, but you have close to no strength, letting him thrust into you with vigour that’s running out too — he’s too besotted with your moans and face that’s morphed into pleasure, along with your whiny pleas.

“c’mon, open your mouth, mama,” toji pulls on your bottom lip with his thumb, “stick out ya tongue.”

you obey, hand squeezing his bicep as he gathers saliva in his mouth again, thrusts stopping briefly. he can feel your hips move, but you’re still focused on how toji purses his lips and how the spit leaves his lips — the long line of spit that descends slowly onto your tongue and the tension that surrounds it tells him you love it.

“attagirl,” he grins, wiping the corners of your cavern as the pace starts up again, and it’s so sudden you already feel like cumming.

“g’nna cum, daddy,” you mutter out, legs closing around him when you feel the familiar coil of your abdomen and toji just holds you closer, intoxicated with the moment that he wants it to last. “gonna—”

your eyes are blown wide when toji secretly reaches down to press a thumb into your clit, drawing lazy circles. that’s enough for your orgasm to come crashing down on you, pussy clenching hard on the other.

“daddy— oh my god!” toji still continues to rail into you, whimpers of his name spurring him on until you’re moaning out again as his cock spurts his cum deep in your cunt, filling you with his load until it spills out.

toji immediately drops down and starts to lap at your clit, a first class seat to his cum leaking from your pussy, laughing when you hardly care about it staining the sofa, too cockdrunk to care about reprimanding him.

“so pliant,” toji uses a finger to push his cum into you, “maybe i should get you like this more often, heh.”

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen toji #fushiguro toji smut #fushiguro toji x reader #toji smut #toji x reader #jjk headcanons #jjk x reader #toji x you #toji fushiguro smut #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #fushiguro toji x you #jjk scenarios #jjk smut #jjk drabbles

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carlyraejepsans · 1 year ago

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Rate UT characters on likely they are to eat spoiled food

premise: as monster food does not spoil, this speculation is based on how i think they'd treat human food in the post pacifist ending

frisk. trash burger. enough said. (also i hc that they grew up on the streets, so... not a lot of chances to be picky with your food.)

sans. second most likely. there's milk in the fridge bought specifically for him to drink out of the carton whenever frisk's or papyrus' friends come to visit, like a stereotypical disney channel older brother (he loves being annoying on purpose). it's been there for a month. he's still not done with it. it's probably rancid. enjoyer of food and lover of even shittier food. mr worst burger on the menu. he is ESPECIALLY gross about food and he is gross about it on purpose, he will peel an apple for papyrus and then take a bite out of it before cutting him a slice. and then call him a wuss when he acts disgusted. ("stop being a baby bones, we have the same germs anyway" "NO WE DON'T. *YOU* HAVE GERMS! AND I DON'T WANT ANY OF THEM!!" "why? they're pedigreed" "OUGH!?!!"). he mostly uses it as a chance to make a gag (or a lack of gagging, lol) but his strong stomach did also come in handy in the early days of papyrus' interest in cooking

mettaton, of sequins-and-glue hamburgers fame. he's technically tied for 2nd place with sans, but i put him in third because i feel like sans does it on purpose, for mettaton it's more like... a side effect of starting life off as a ghost. few people question it since he's a robot now.

alphys. she doesn't go out of her way to do it, but she buys her snacks in industrial pallet-fuls to reduce social interactions to a minimum, so by the time she reaches the last 3 or 4 packets of blue takis, they're well past their expiration date. not that it stops her. now, this wouldn't happen on the surface because she gets better and has a solid support system, but if monster food could spoil back when she was going Through it with the amalgamates, i feel like she'd either be too depressed or tired to care and eat it, or she'd tumble into a "g-god. you can't even take care of your own f-food. is there anything you can't fuck up" self-deprecation spiral and lose her appetite altogether

flowey. did it to see what would happen. nothing did. never did it again. tbh I just don't think he eats much of anything, spoiled or not.

undyne. getting into the "wouldn't eat spoiled food" tier. she actually thinks it's really gross but papyrus tricks her into doing it by challenging her machismo. she gets SO sick from it. they do this aprox 3 times a month. rinse and repeat

asgore. he's a gardener, and i can see him working in a community garden on the surface, so he'd have access to a lot of fresh produce, for both himself and to give away. however, if some of it were to go bad, he'd probably cut off the affected bit and eat the rest so it doesn't go to waste.

toriel. she is SUPER careful about expiration dates and mold and checks to make sure all she owns is still safe to eat almost weekly. this level of care, however, is mostly meant for other people, not herself, but she would really rather not eat anything that's gone bad. same reasoning as alphys', IF monster food could spoil when she was still in the RUINs, i could technically see her biting the bullet, if only because 1) she was also heavily depressed and struggling to take care of herself, though i think she might sooner skip out on the meal altogether, rather than eat something spoiled, and 2) the awkward stares from the other monsters in the RUINs supermarket might not be something she's willing to deal with on any given day.

papyrus. he would NOT. no way. master of cleaning, germophobe extraordinaire papyrus (well, not really, but he plays the part). if toriel is meticulous, papyrus is obsessive. there better not be a SINGLE spot on his food. and no lines or plaid patterns either!! he WILL wash it untill it goes away. with soap probably. canonically a picky eater to begin with (his picks are just weird as balls). can should and WILL get on sans' ass about his unhealthy eating habits, and that includes eating food that's gone bad.

#answered asks #undertale #sans #papyrus #toriel #frisk #alphys #undyne #asgore #mettaton #hey look the whole gang is here!

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winchestersisterimaginessss · 3 months ago

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request: Sam and Deans sister is really squeamish with her own injuries. I am talking like gagging throwing up so grossed out, that’s how much it affects her. Her brothers are aware of her huge fear and understand what they have to do when she gets injured. They have been through this many times with her before and are extremely familiar with her panic. Even with all of her injuries, it never gets better for her and she freaks out every single time her brothers have to patch her up.

Warnings: gore, cursing,

A/N: Okay some of this might be so dramatic but it’s soooo real like I am one of these people who are absolutely sickened by stitches and gashes. I had to get stitches before multiple times and I was gagging the whole time gripping my leg. I would assume an injury like this one is 1000% worse so it may seem dramatic but it’s like so real tbh. Anyway I was too lazy and tired to proof read this but I’m still gonna upload it and check it all later so if anything’s clearly spelled wrong… oops sorry lol. Hope you enjoy:)) Requests are still open!

You were easily disgusted by the sight of your own wounds which was unfortunate because you were a hunter so wounds were more common than not. Blood was fine and little scrapes were okay, but stitches or deep gashes had you sick to your stomach. You could not stop yourself from physically gagging or throwing up when you had serious injuries. You were completely okay with others injuries, but your own? They made you sick to your stomach.

It was always a fight with your brothers because you obviously needed to take care of your wounds, but the idea of it made you physically ill. They had to hold you down more times than not to clean up your wounds and stitch them because you would thrash and thrash. If they weren’t holding you down, then you were usually squeezing your eyes shut, holding your breath and biting back throwing up. Either way, you never won because you were either crying, gagging, throwing up or fighting them. So when a demon took a knife and sliced your shin you couldn’t help but curse.

“Fuck!” You cried and collapsed to the floor. While Dean finished off the demon that sliced you, you grabbed your shin in a tight grip to look at your wound. You cried out in pain and felt sick to your stomach when you realized how bad it was.

“Oh my God. Oh my God.” You gagged, seeing your skin gaping open. Dean killed the demon and his attention immediately went to you. He eyed your injury up and before he could make his next move, Sam swooped in.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey you’re going to be alright, okay?” Sam said coming into your view. He looked at your wound and clenched his jaw. He caught Dean’s eyes. Dean sent him a grimace and shook his head. Sam already knew how this was going to end and he also knew that he had to word his next sentences to you very carefully.

“I’ll grab the car.” Dean hurried off, knowing that they had to disinfect and care for your wound as soon as possible.

“Okay, hey we’re going to get you cleaned up, it’s okay.” Sam said softly with his attention back on you. As he reached down to pick you up, you gripped onto his wrist with panic in your eyes.

“No, Sammy, wait, please no, please!” You whimpered, now feeling your body start to tremble. You were so not mentally prepared for this to be happening to you right now. Sam sighed, knowing how hard it was going to be for all of you.

“Bug,” he said sympathetically, “you know that’s a deep gash.” He finished insinuating that you knew that there was no other option, but to deal with the wound. You let out a sob and let him finish picking you up.

“I know sweetheart, I know, I’m sorry.” He whispered. Dean pulled up the car and hopped out. Sam carried you to the car while Dean opened the door for him and the three of you got in. You cried the entire way to the bunker while your brothers tried their best to comfort you. Once you got to the bunker, Dean went in first to get everything sorted as Sam worked on coaxing you out of the car.

“Sammy!” You sobbed when he opened the door closest to you.

“Y/N/N I’m sorry but we have to clean you up.” He said already knowing where you were going with it.

“No!” You cried gagging. “I’m going to throw up, I’m going to throw up!” You panicked.

“Hey hey hey it’s going to be okay!” He said reaching out to you, but you leaned away from him.

“No, no, no, no, no.” You mumbled. “Sam please I-I-I can’t fucking do it, I can’t!” You cried.

Sam sighed. “If we don’t clean it up now, it could get worse, bug. You would be in extra pain and it would require even more care.” Sam pointed out trying to get you to understand.

“But I don’t want either!” You cried.

“I know, but these are your only options.” He said sympathetically.

You threw your head back and cried. You were defeated, he was right.

“Fine,” you sobbed.

“Come on sweetheart, I got you.” He said softly as he helped you out of the car and picked you up. You squeezed your arms around his neck tight and dug your face into his chest as he carried you inside.

He walked you to the table where he tried setting you down gently, but failed. You still had your arms tight around his neck, not letting him go. You whimpered as you peaked out from his chest and saw all of the supplies out.

“Kiddo, we’ve gotta patch you up and you know that we do. So I need you to hang with me kid, okay?” Dean asked gently, coming into your view with disinfectant in his hands.

You cried, but released your grip on Sam. He sat you on the table and you instantly reached for your leg. You squeezed your leg tight hoping to take some of the pressure away from where you were injured as Dean got ready to clean you up.

“Alright I’m just going to disinfect it right now okay? I’m not touching it yet, just pouring it over your leg, alright kid?” He asked.

You nodded and whimpered, still squeezing your leg. You knew this part was going to hurt like hell. You closed your eyes and looked away and you felt Sam’s hand on your back. The cold liquid poured onto your leg and your breath got caught in your throat as you felt the intense sting and burn. You choked back a sob. You hated this feeling. You hated knowing that your wound was bubbling and that the liquid was going into your flesh because your skin was practically flapped open. The whole idea of it made you feel sick, but you knew this was the easiest part of the whole clean up.

“You’re doing so good kid, hang with me.” Dean said as he got the cloth gauze out. You felt your heart rate increase.

“Wait De-“ you started before he cut you off.

“I’m not going to do anything without telling you first and I’ll walk you through it as always.” He reassured you.

“Okay,” you whispered.

“I’ve gotta dry it up so I can start the stitches,” he said, squinting his eyes at you to get a better read on your expression. Sam felt you stiffen under his touch.

“Hey you’re doing so good bug, Deans going to continue.” He said, nodding to Dean and not giving you an option to stop him. Dean gave you a reassuring nod and blotted your wound. You hissed in pain as he finished drying it. As soon as you saw him reach for the needle and thread, you tried to scramble off the table. Your brothers knew you too well though and Sam had you pulled back.

You were frantic. “Please wait no wait” You gagged. “I-I-“ You gagged again. “No wait hold on!” You finally screeched in fear and pleaded your one last attempt. Tears were streaming down your face and you just couldn’t do it.

“You’re okay.” Dean reassured, nodding to you.

“But I’m not Dean!” You whined, feeling like you were going to pass out.

“Hey, hey, hey, the sooner I start, the sooner I can finish. I need you to stay with me kid. You’re okay.” He soothed, eyeing you. He knew that there was a great possibility of you passing out. Both of your brothers greatly preferred you to be conscious when they were patching you up to prevent further complications.

You accepted your fate and threw your head back crying. You motioned to Dean to start the stitches. As soon as he pierced through your skin with the needle you let out a sob.

“Shhhhh, shhh, it’s okay.” Sam murmured, rubbing your back and holding your body up. You felt Dean tug at your skin as he stitched you up and you gagged. This was one of the worst feelings in the world. You suddenly felt really weak and tried to blink away the black spots clouding your vision. Sam felt your body start to become less tense and figured you were slipping away from consciousness.

“Dean.” He alerted his brother. Dean looked up at you.

“HEY, HEY, keep your eyes open kiddo!” He shouted before lowering his voice. That confirmed Sam’s thoughts so he gave your face a little tap. You shot your eyes back open and focused on Dean’s mouth moving.

“HEY, HEY, I need you to stay awake, can you do that for me kid?” He asked. His voice felt so far away and you tried to nod, but you gave up and your head lolled to the side. You closed your eyes and felt Sam tapping your face again, but you didn’t have the energy to open them back up.

“Shit!” You heard Dean mumble before you fell into complete darkness.

You didn’t know how much time had passed before you felt a sharp stabbing pain in your leg. You jolted up frantically and Sam grabbed you to hold you down as you whimpered. Dean stopped stitching you so that your erratic movements didn’t cause him to screw up. You came to and focused on your surroundings.

“There she is! I need you to keep those eyes open for me kiddo.” Dean said looking at you.

“You’re okay, relax.” Sam soothed, but you didn’t care. As Dean turned his focus back to your gash, you cried out and tried to jerk your leg away.

“Sam, hold her down, I’ve gotta finish this up.” Dean said shooting you a sympathetic look. Sam gripped your shin tight and held you in place as you cried out in pain and disgust. Every time you felt the tug of your skin, you gagged. You squeezed your eyes shut and held your breath, clenching your jaw. You didn’t know how long had passed before you heard Sam’s gentle voice.

“Hey sweetheart, I need you to breathe for me or else your going to make yourself pass out again.” He said, still holding your leg in place. You didn’t even notice that your lungs were searching for oxygen until you let in a deep breath and felt the relief. Dean looked up at you.

“Atta girl, I’m almost done, hang in there.” He encouraged you. You cried out a few more times, before Dean put down the needle and thread.

“All done!” He said and you let out an audible sigh of relief. He out the antibacterial cream and unscrewed the cap.

“Okay I’m going to quickly put this on and wrap it up.” He explained to you. You nodded and he took that as his approval to continue. You accidentally caught sight of your wound and gagged.

“Blah oh my God I fucking can’t I’m- blah- I’m going to-“ You gagged. “I’m going to throw the fuck up.” You gagged again. It was just word vomit with you gagging every other second. You looked away, but the feeling of your skin and knowing what it looked like still continued to make you gag. Dean quickly spread the cream over your stitches and you gagged again. It just grossed you the hell out. The whole idea of it just made you sick to your stomach. He quickly wrapped up your leg and patted your knee.

“Good as new kiddo, you’re all patched up.” He sighed in relief.

“Thank you.” You whispered. You felt the ache and burn of your wound as you repositioned yourself on the table. You were ready to leap into your bed and stay there for eternity.

“Can you walk?” Sam asked, reaching out to help stabilize you as you got off the table.

“Yeah I-“ You gagged as you felt your skin ache from being stretched by the stitches. “I’m good.” You replied and walked without bending your leg to prevent yourself from feeling that gross stretch of your skin again. Sam looked at you in concern as Dean couldn’t help but let out a chuckle.

“Alright kid, let’s get you to bed.” He said as he swooped you up in his arms. You relaxed in his arms and he brought you into your room. He gently placed you on your bed and helped you with your blankets.

“Thanks De.” You mumbled before you noticed Sam also in the room, “thanks s’mmy.” You said softly. You were so exhausted and could barely keep your eyes open.

“Goodnight bug, call us if you need anything.” Sam said before he walked out of the room. Dean followed him, leaving your bedroom door open so they could check on you frequently through out the night.

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biting-miguel-ohara · 3 months ago

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Goddess - Laura Kinney x male!Reader

A/N: I literally wrote this in one go at 4am so I really hope this is good. Can you tell I adore her yet? Lol. Let me know if I missed a warning or anything

Reader and Laura’s ages aren’t mentioned, but they are both over 18 in this!

Written for this request

CW: explicit sexual content, smut, femdom, Reader makes a lot of noise, choking, Reader is a bit of a masochist, one use of ‘good boy’, Reader’s parts are called dick and cock, Reader licks Laura’s hand, handjobs, erotic asphyxiation, why isn’t there a word/tag for cleaning up your own cum?, mild religious wording, maybe ooc Laura

742 words

“Laura, Laura, fuck!” You gasp out, arching into her touch.

She growls at you, gripping your throat a little tighter. “Shut up. You’re gonna get us caught.”

You do your best to tone down your noises, but it’s so hard when she’s palming your dick and lightly choking you at the same time.

You’re not even sure how you got in this situation. You’ve been pining after her for weeks. Following her around and doing everything she asks. Making yourself her servant in hopes she’ll notice you.

It’s a bit pathetic for a guy like you, but you’ve always been pathetic around beautiful women. Laura is no exception.

In fact, you’re pretty sure she’s a goddess of some sort.

There’s no other reason your brain can come up with for how she knows all your weak spots without even trying.

Like the one spot on your neck that makes you moan when she presses her thumb against it. Or the way she’s rubbing your dick with just enough pressure to make you see stars but not enough for you to actually get off.

It’s making you desperately needy and she seems to like it.

“Please, Laura,” you beg. “Please, I—“

“I said, shut up!” She pulls her hand back and you keen at the loss.

“No, no, please! I’ll be good! I’ll be quiet! I’ll be good!” You need her to keep touching you.

She eyes you for a moment, then nods. “Be a good boy then.”

It’s said so condescendingly and it makes you whimper. She really does know all your weak spots.

You clamp a hand over your mouth as she dips her hand below your waistband. She pulls out your cock, stroking her thumb over the tip in a way that has your eyes rolling back.

She pulls your hand from your mouth and holds her own to it. “Lick.”

You obey automatically. Like your body already knows it needs to respond to her. You lick up her hand, trembling under her.

She’s a full few inches shorter than you, yet she can make you feel like the smallest in the room with just a look. You’d let her do anything she wanted at this point.

Laura pulls her hand back and gives you a mildly disgusted but approving look. It goes straight to your dick, making you bite your tongue to hold back a whine.

You’ve never been so vocal during sex before. Something about her just pulls it out of you.

She wraps her hand around your dick and starts to stroke. Your eyes roll back in your head and you buck into her touch. It feels perfect.

Her hand is rough and there’s not enough spit. It hurts, but the hurt only makes the pleasure stronger. You feel like the seams of your body are coming undone with her touch.

You’re babbling now, gasping out cries of her names and curses that make even her blush a little. You don’t care; you can’t care, what with the way she’s stroking you.

You arch into her touch, trying so hard to roll your hips in time with her hand. But your brain’s all fuzzy and she’s gripping your throat again.

Your cries become weaker as your head gets light from lack of oxygen. Everything feels so intense. The strokes of her hand against your dick. The feel of her fingers digging into your throat. It all feels divine.

You cum ridiculously fast. Spilling your seed into her hand. She releases your throat and you gasp for air. Only for her to shove her fingers into your mouth. “Clean them.”

You obey like it’s what you were born to do. You lap at her skin, cleaning all traces of your own cum from her fingers. You suck on her fingers, letting your eyes close a little.

You feel so good.

You don’t realize she’s pulling you further into the room until she’s pushing you down to the bed. She pulls away from you, gazing at you with a look your fuzzy brain can’t figure out. It makes your dick twitch and your heart beat faster.

“I’m going to ruin you,” she says. As it it’s a fact. You take it as one.

“Okay.”

Laura smiles. Showing off her teeth. And then she pounces.

You later leave her room all dazed and starry-eyed. Sure in your belief that she’s a goddess. And you cannot wait to worship her again.

#wolverine #laura kinney #male!reader #dividers by saradika #laura kinney x reader #laura kinney x male!reader #laura kinney x male reader #laura x23 #x23 #x23 x reader #x23 x you #x23 x male reader #male reader #x male reader #m!reader

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hyperactively-me · 1 year ago

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okay okay okay, i know you get sooo many asks for king!ghost/princess!reader au, and we love them all and eat them all up--so i understand if you never answer this one... But i've always wondered, esp after he gifted reader his knife, what the heck was simon doing in the hall, cleaning his knife *that* night. Like I think about it often, was he going to talk to her (lil scandalous in the middle of the night)? Did he happen to be walking around and see her? Was he making sure she was okay? Was he feeling bad because he knows what it's like to have your family ripped away and although it is for the better, he feels remorseful for the reader? I mean, obviously reader felt someone watching her, how close was he??? Watching her be free and open in her lil sanctuary (thinking about how she'd have to find that in his kingdom/castle)? I NEED ANSWERS LOL

king!ghost x reader -- knife explained (flashback to the first couple of chapters, specifically "knife"; written in Ghost's POV) hopefully this answers your question 😉

It’s been a sleepless night. He couldn’t sleep. The woman betrothed to him was a complete and utter mystery. He had never seen anything like you, the way you so openly displayed your disdain and disgust to him.

Yes, he knew that he was not very well-liked outside of his own kingdom. But, this is a woman who is supposed to be his wife. He recalls the fire in your eyes, the unwavering determination that matched the contempt in your voice. It was a stark contrast to the delicate and obedient bride he had envisioned you would be. What a spoiled little princess you turned out to be.

And, he didn’t mean to be intimidating on purpose, that’s just how he carries himself outwardly. He was accustomed to commanding respect and obedience, even if it was born out of fear, no matter who the person. But, you were different. You had risen up against him because of your fear, and unashamedly at that.

It kept him wide awake, the way your face twisted into a frown every time he stepped into a room, or the way you turned up your nose when he tried to speak to you. He thinks back to the dinner earlier that night, the way your knuckles were white as you gripped your dinner knife, fork stabbing into the innocent food being served. He had to bite back the urge to laugh; laugh at the thought of you being difficult on purpose. Until, it had finally hit him, that you were acting like this on purpose. It wasn’t just a ruse, your defiance, and fear, was quite real. You were not the stereotypical demure bride.

He shifts in his bed once again, staring at the ceiling, and he finds himself drawn to the challenge you presented. It was as if you held the key to a mystery he couldn’t resist unlocking. A woman who dared to challenge him was a rarity, and the prospect both unsettled and fascinated him. He couldn’t dismiss the fact that you had piqued his curiosity in a way that no one else ever had.

Ghost finds himself torn between frustration and intrigue. He never saw himself fit to be a husband, yet here he was. The usual tactics that had subdued others seemed to have no effect on you. Instead, it fueled your defiance, making you even more resistant to his authority. He should’ve known that you were going to put up a fight in the first place. Yes, he knew that noble women were trained to be blushing brides, but the mere thought that you had to give up your life in your home kingdom as you know it for a man you’ve never met, and a man known for wars and bloodshed at that? Who was he kidding?

Of course you would despise him from ripping you away from your family, from the comfort of your home. Hell, he went through a similar situation with his own family. The mere notion that he was inflicting the same things he went through on you made his stomach churn. He needed to get up.

With that, Ghost shudders, rising from his bed, needing to clear his mind. He pulls on a pair of black pants and a black tunic alongside his balaclava, grabs his knife, and slips out of the guest room. The castle is shrouded in silence as Ghost moves through its dimly lit corridors. His mind races with thoughts of you, the enigmatic woman who now shared his fate. The air is deathly still and the moon hangs high in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the castle grounds.

Ghost happens upon the hallway that leads to the garden. He notices the wooden doors are slightly ajar, pricking his instinctive protective senses. Immediately, he makes his way over to the door, reaching out to grab the handle. Before he can step outside, he hears a rustling of fabric and looks straight through the crack.

There you were, in all your glory, standing outside in the garden, a robe wrapped tightly around your frame. Ghost hesitates for a moment, torn between retreating unnoticed and going outside and confronting you. The moonlight accentuates the curves of your silhouette, and he can’t help but be captivated by the vulnerability you’re displaying outside, a stark contrast with the defiance he had grown accustomed to.

He leans against the doorframe, his presence still concealed in the shadows. It’s like you were a different person, the way your hand gently caresses flower petals as you stroll, the gentle breeze playing with your hair. There’s a rawness in your gaze, a depth of emotion that intrigues him more than he’d like to admit.

For a bit, Ghost remains hidden, an unseen observer of the woman who challenges every preconceived notion he had about his future wife. As if suddenly snapped out of his trance, he takes a few steps back, feeling as though he’s intruding on something personal. Ghost feels guilty for watching you so… calm in your garden.

He retreats, his footsteps carrying him away and down another hallway, the faint moonlight filtering through narrow windows his only guide. With a deep breath, he comes across a rather comfortable looking chair sitting in the hallway; one that’s surely only used as a mere decoration. Regardless, he sits down and pulls his knife out.

He twists it in his grip a few times, admiring the way it looks in his hands. He brings it closer to his face, inspecting the blade with scrutiny, until he notices a few smudges on it.

Can’t have that, can we? He thinks to himself.

The blade, a symbol of his title and the harsh realities of the life he leads, demands his attention. He meticulously cleans the smudges from the weapon, treating the knife as though it’s a holy item. Ghost’s hands move with a practiced precision, the rhythmic sound of the cleaning echoing in the silent corridor. The blade, once tarnished, now reflects the faint moonlight streaming through the windows, a gleaming testament to Ghost’s meticulous care. He wonders if you’ve ever had to wield a weapon before. Most likely, no. He would change that, once he trusted you more. Couldn’t give a combative person a knife now, can we? I’ll give you more time. But, I don’t doubt for a moment that you wouldn’t be able to carry such a thing in your pretty little hands.

Suddenly, a rustling of fabric pricks his ears. He immediately stands from his seat, the legs of the chair scraping across the floor. He knows it's you.

No use in you running now, he thinks.

“What’re you doin’?” he calls out, knowing damn well that you’re most likely going to lash out again.

He watches you as you slowly turn around, fear etched into your face. A change from your usual frown and furrowed brows. Ghost can see the flicker of uncertainty in your eyes, the robe clutched tightly around you as if it were a shield. You take multiple steps back as your eyes flit down to the knife in his hand. He knows he must look intimidating right now, dressed in all black and a skull balaclava concealing his features, wielding a hefty looking knife. Yet, how soft you looked mere moments ago, your lips parting so prettily as your eyes rest on his figure.

“What are you doing?” you motion to the knife in his hand.

He swivels his head down at the knife in his hand, a faint smirk playing on his lips. You can’t see it, thanks to the balaclava. How predictable, of course you were going to point that out. Without hesitation, he takes the knife and flips in his hand before sheathing it in his pants pocket.

He watches you wince at the sudden movement, a flash of guilt courses through his veins for a moment. But he remembers that he can’t have you thinking that walking over him like you do now is acceptable.

“Thinkin’,” he responds, voice gruff. You flash him a look of confusion, still wary of your position. Ghost takes a step forward, his silhouette partially illuminated by the moonlight spilling through a window. He watches you take a quick step back, suddenly hating the way you look so small.

“What are you doin’?” he asks again, crossing his arms in front of his chest to act as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. He can see the wariness in your eyes, the way you stare at his muscles, the guarded stance, and it amuses him, even though he tries not to show it.

“I don’t see how it's any of your business as to what I’m doing in my own home,” you retort, squeezing your robe tighter around your body.

He takes a breath, a low chuckle escaping. But you’re right. He has no right to question what you’re doing in your own home. After all, he’s the one who’s a guest here, not the other way around. You have the right idea being wary of him, a monster of a man, being awake and roaming the palace halls at this hour of the night. But, he couldn't help but feel a glimmer of protection for you. A woman alone at this hour of the night?

He brushes off those thoughts, not wanting to let you win. Yet, he also wants to answer a small question he has. Would you back down? Now, at first, when he thought he would be receiving a blushing bride, he was going to treat her as kind as he possibly could. But now that his “blushing bride” is a noncompliant, fiery woman, he wants to make sure of another thing. That you would have the ability to stand up for yourself even in moments of pressure, especially in moments of pressure from him.

“Listen here, sweetheart,” he says with another hidden smirk.

“I’m not tryin’ to pry, but you've been actin’ a certain way ever since I’ve arrived. I don’t appreciate it,” he states plainly, shifting slightly.

He doesn’t miss the glare you throw at him, fingernails clutching into your robe tightly. How he wishes those fingernails would be buried in his back.

“Well, you can mind your own business. I don't need your so-called ‘concern.’ Why do you think I’m acting this way?”

A really good fuckin’ question with an equally obvious answer, is what he wants to say.

But he refuses to answer, pride welling up inside of him. Ghost takes a cursory glance at you again, noting the way you’re almost curled into yourself. You’re afraid of him. He couldn’t shake the image of you standing beneath the willow tree, how carefree and soft you looked then.

Without thought, Ghost takes a step towards you again, but this time, you don’t move. How intriguing. He takes another step, waiting for you to give in, back down from whatever you’re thinking about right now. He takes another step, giving you another chance to move, a chance to show him that you're not willing to back down. How perfect. Put me in my place, this is what I deserve, he thinks.

Ghost is now mere inches away, and you still haven’t moved. Good princess.

Your neck is craned up to look at him, disdain written on your face.

He reaches his fingers up to your cheek, the pads of his fingers just barely ghosting over your skin as he makes his way to push stray strands of hair behind your ear. And the most surprising part of it all is that you let him. Now, he thinks he’s misjudged you. A spoiled princess? No. A woman who knows how to stand her ground.

He can see you go as stiff as a board under his touch, your chest heaving as your heart rate picks up. He can see the pulse in your neck clearly. His eyes flit towards your bosom for a split moment, then he pulls his hand away.

“Hmm,” he hums, a glint in his eyes. Interesting.

And, without a word, he makes his way down the hallway silently, heading in no particular direction. He can feel your eyes boring into his back, and he feels a flash of pride, secretly hoping his stature impresses you. I know it does.

At the end of the day, he doesn’t aim to break you; he just wants to figure you out. You’ll both be officially bound together in the next few days when he finally proposes to you, whether you like it or not. He can’t deny the conflict within himself — the desire to unravel you clashes with the knowledge that he’s pushing the boundaries. All these contradictions, and you’re driving him crazy. Why does he want to kiss you and fight you at the same time?

He pulls the knife back out from his pocket, studying the reflection of his eyes in the blade. He wants to get to know the woman he had seen out in the garden.

Time will tell.

- - - - -

(masterlist)

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon “ghost” riley x reader #simon “ghost” riley x you #hyperactivelyme

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grapejuicestyless · 11 months ago

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i have had this idea for so long, but i really think you could do this justice. sort of like the film the holiday!!! but not really set in Christmas and more so through the seasons. harry moves out of the city (doesn’t need to be a singer and could just be a CEO) into a small village in a lovely cottage where all of the furniture is mismatched and there’s sash windows which are always open. He’s there for a few months before he starts to feel lonely so decides to bring in a lodger! He hand makes posters and puts them on the village hall board and … he finally gets a taker! It’s a quirky girl who is totally all over the place and she moves in .. the seasons change and so does their relationship.. friends to lovers OR ACTUALLY maybe it could be so interesting for it to be enemies to lovers! That could be fun to write. But idk I’ve been thinking about it for so long !!! They could organise a dinner party for friends one night or maybe Harry goes away to the city for a meeting and that’s where y/n realises how much she misses him / likes him. Definitely has to be fluffy but also needs to have some drama. I haven’t figured that out yet 😭😭😭 I’m so sorry for this really long rambly post but I wanted to give u as much of my brain as possible lol. I would LOVE LOVE LOVE to see what you would do with this / if it’s something you’re even interested in. Have a gorgeous evening / day / morning xxx love you!!💖💖💖💖💖

Bad People

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: Harry and Y/n met by pure luck. Sharing secrets and laughing like little kids, ribs and cheeks hurting. Y/n is sure Harry is destined to be in her life forever. She’s just not sure when that became a bad thing.

FLANGST/FRIENDS TO ENEMIES TO LOVERS

The pale blue sky looked gray from certain windows. The glass was cracked and the stove stained with boiled over soup broth and old sprinklings of spices.

The birds sang solemnly, humming the tune to what I believed sounded like something you’d hear at a funeral. Here, the pavement was cracked and the stars were consistently covered with clouds. Snow, more often than not, fell heavily. From October to April. The nearby ocean nearly always too cold to swim in. The backyard pool cold and clean, still with nobody to inhabit it.

All the beauty ripped from the earth, and replaced with another kind of it. I wouldn’t mind it half as much, if I had someone to enjoy the snow with. To enjoy the polar plunges, the visible breath and numb fingers.

Like old times sake, snowmen and snowball fights. Sledding or fort making. Rosy cheeks and icy hair a memory of the past. Cheeks hurting from smiles, not the winter chill.

The laughter of my mother was long gone, and my brother outgrew his desire for a sibling as soon as he turned sixteen. Few friends, not any at least, that would enjoy the activities the white powder offered.

So now, I look out the window, nursing a glass of wine propped up on the windowsill. I don’t see the snow day ahead or pray for a white Christmas. I pray that one day, I’ll find someone to enjoy it with me. To soothe the pain little eight year old me suffered with the absence of her father, her distant mother and her selfish brother.

“Looking at it won’t make it fall any faster, Y/n.” The puff of air coming from my nose fogs up to cool glass, and my fingers leave prints along the center.

He’s not looking at me, he rarely does when we aren’t fighting. It’s like I disgust him. I feel like a fool every god damn time.

“Have you always naturally been an asshole or did you grow into it?” I don’t look at him, but I feel his gaze settle on my reflection in the glass. His voice alone urges me to take a large drink from the wine glass. The ruby red staining my top lip. I spread it around and taste the bitterness of it on my tongue.

He begins to leave, almost succeeding without a passing glance, but biting his tongue is something Harry nor I have ever been able to do. So it’s natural how he goes for the last word.

“Theres only so much wine, Y/n.” He teases. I down the rest while he walks away. The sigh that leaves my mouth after I feel the ghost of him leaving me isn’t only for air, but because suddenly the room feels lighter.

It’s funny, how someone so special can leave such a disgusting taste in your mouth. Hatred doesn’t just happen. It creeps, seeps, saturates. It’s a pesky little thing that starts small until finally you can’t ignore how bothered you are. It’s vile and cruel. A poisonous little thing that no one is immune to. It’s a sad yet funny thing. To remember that it wasn’t always like this. I didn’t always hate my old friend, bounded to me through the home we share. I once enjoyed the company of Harry styles.

It was nearly a year since I’d moved in. A year since the snow turned to thick ice and roads became bare with people too afraid to try and navigate through the harsh winter.

Nearly a year since I first saw the house at the end of the road, with a neat front lawn and a tree with hanging branches ready to snap.

A red scarf and red mittens is what I wore. With a faded brown coat and worn blue jeans. A hat on top of my head and a journal tucked underneath my arm. He had the greenest eyes I had ever seen. The stars in the night sky didn’t quite shine as bright as his eyes, I swore it to myself.

He had an english accent, one that I wasn’t familiar with. Peach fuzz and dark chocolate curls a mess on his head. When I told him my job, he laughed, but something about his shocked expression after told me he didn’t mean it cruelly. Rather, that he was shocked, or just piecing the puzzle together.

“I’m my mother’s daughter.” I told him, “She always had a thing for poetry. The sappy ones with the tragic endings. I got it from her and I’m damn good at it.” I smiled at him then, and he smiled back bigger.

“It’s just funny. Moving somewhere so quiet for a job all about fantasy and adventure.” He explained, already guiding the two of us through the wide doorway. I set my boots in the old entryway which it seemed he had turned into a mud room. I admired the shade of green on the wall and nodded along. My cheeks hurt from smiling.

That night, while settling into my new space, I shared with him my life. My goals and dreams. With his toothy smile and boyish eyes, he made it so easy to trust him. I sat on my newly made bed and he sat in my spinning chair by my desk. Moving it back and forth, swaying slowly. A cigarette started dangling from his pocket, I still remember the way he took it between his thumb and his index finger. Rolling it around, debating whether or not to light it. It was like he didn’t know he had it.

“I didn’t take you for a smoker.” I laughed at him, he laughed back. Shy almost, only looking at me for a moment.

“M’not. A few here and there. Helps to wind down.” When he ran his hand through his hair, I remember seeing all his rings. A rose and two with his initials. One looked like a lion. That one was my favorite.

Other than his charming smile and infectious laughter, I knew nothing of him, I had come to realize. Here he was, knowing about my family and friends. My job and my hobbies. All I had asked him was his name.

When I asked him, he was just as talkative as I was. A sparkle in his eyes when he talked about his job. I remember specifically, how they lit up extra bright when he mentioned his mother, Anne, and his older sister, Gemma. I learned about his job too. Harry had everything he could ever truly want. The money, the power, the glory. His office at the top floor overlooking the bustling city that never sleeps. Families dancing around the square and traffic backed up into the city line.

The sad thing was, that even with all this pride he got to carry with his reputation, the city was no home to him. The summer held no comfort. Not the same now that he was long out of school. The heat was simply uncomfortable. His lavish suit sticking to his skin. Even the air conditioner couldn’t soothe the pounding of his head against the strong New York heat.

His nose stung in the summer. The warmer it got, the worse it smelled. Garbage littering the streets no longer covered by thick snow. Tourists and their children filling up all his favorite places of relaxation. Each carrying their own scent from home. The calming pine from the North or the tangy citrus of the west coast.

Harry felt no true love for his home anymore. No real attachment. There was no smell of home, and there certainly wasn’t any old faces with their gravelly voices and thick accents. If it weren’t for the business there, he would’ve fled somewhere else long ago. Somewhere quieter. Somewhere that felt like home. If he could, he would have tucked himself back into the small home his mother raised him and his sister in. He would’ve curled up happily in his twin bed and looked out the same crooked window each night and feel happy with only that.

He tells me that when he got in the car waiting for him at the airport, he was tempted to tell the driver to take him home, to see if it would make him smile. He’d seen the gag used in all the old rom-coms he and his mother used to watch. The short blonde running from the love of her life only to be led back into his arms. But Harry know’s better. He tells me so. So when the driver asks him where to, he tells him the address.

He told me about his work life. How there was a branch out in the UK. The one that started it all. And as his success grew, so did his aspirations and his needs. London no longer provided him with the luxury and opportunity that New York could. So he swapped out his office for a penthouse and acted like the smell of burning garbage and mysterious wet spots on the sidewalks didn’t bother him.

It’s a vicious cycle. To outgrow, to long for, to move, to hate all over again. Thats how he decided that London has just what he needed. His business within reach and smaller towns surrounding its borders.

“And what about now? Are you happy?” Harry crinkled his eyes then, smiling a nodding along. He didn’t even mind it then, when I would interrupt. In fact, he welcomed it. Claimed he loved hearing me talk.

I agreed with him when he said that the grass is greener down here. The stars are just that much brighter and theres not a single car honking their horn past nine. All things that left him feeling a whole lot calmer than the chaos of the city.

Here, Harry told me he didn’t mind not living in a lavish penthouse just a few blocks away from his work. Here, he was hours away from the city. He stays in a medium sized cape cod styled house, pre-decorated from the past owners who didn’t care to take their things when they left for something bigger. It sticks out from the rest of the homes nearby. He wonders how something so different ended up within the same area. And he smiled and sat on the floor when I laughed and told him he’d already lived quite the life for a nearly-thirty year old man.

When silence took over after over an hour long conversation, I bit at my nails and looked at the floor. Suddenly, it came to me.

“Harry?” I had asked. He hummed, looking at me. Even if I hadn’t looked back, I could still feel his eyes on mine. “What made you want a roommate?” When my eyes flickered up to his, I saw no hate, or disgust, or shame. Nothing that I am familiar with now in Harry’s eyes. I saw curiosity, warmth and happiness.

“I like the quiet. I like being able to sleep without someone yelling down the hallway. I like how green it is over here.” I nodded, waiting for him to continue. “But the quiet get’s lonely. And while I like the quiet, I hate being alone.” And it made me smile back then. Maybe it still does thinking about it know. He had been helping me in finding a home, some place warm to stay. Meanwhile, I had been able to give back. Give him what he wanted. At the time, my heart warmed.

For a long time after that, Harry made my heart beat fiercely. He brought me flowers and made us pancakes. Freshly picked blueberries from the local market. He cracked jokes and I repeated them back between our broken laughter, imitating his english accent.

He was a charming man, with an energy that invited and kept you drawn to him. Everyone wanted to be around Harry. The men and the women. Always wanting a piece of the pie. I felt rich in life, that while others had to work for a lifelong friendship with him, naturally, we fit together. We worked.

He entered my life by some kind of coincidence. I needed a place to stay and he was offering a room up.

When he brushed his thumb over my knuckles and kissed the skin, I believed we would be like this forever. Just the two of us.

When he whispered to me that he loved me that same night, I thought it was something he would never take back. Something that would never change. His warm breath and glistening eyes. He was red and shiny. A bottle of the cheap champagne sat on the table and an empty glass beside him. I let his lips trail around my hand and laugh at his antics.

“Harry.” I mumbled into the darkness, he doesn’t move. I silently giggle again after he puffs air out of his own nose onto my hand playfully. His shoulders shake with his own fits of laughter, “Harry.” I call out again, and my eyes are met with his dazzling emerald ones. I almost got lost, forgot how to talk looking at him.

My palms were sweaty with nervousness then. My heart beating out of my chest. I wanted more than anything to tell him everything. As a poet, it should have been easy to put my thoughts out in the open air. But they hadn’t sat within me for long enough to curate a straight forward answer.

How would I even manage to start on how beautiful I thought his brown hair was? Perfectly colored like milk chocolate treats that curled over his forehead. Or his toothy grin which pulled butterflies from the pit of my stomach and made me feel lighter? I couldn’t find just one thing to focus on. And the words that came out of my mouth tumbled out quickly.

“You’re my best friend.” I hoped that he would’ve been able to see how much love I held for him in my face. How even in the dim lighting of only the fireplace and the fading lamp in the corner, he could see how they sparkled just for him.

He pulled his hand away after that, clearing his throat and nodding. But he smiled so softly after that I didn’t see how his eyes welled up with tears. I only saw his perfectly pink lips and his rosy cheeks. For once, I wasn’t focused on his eyes, and I paid the price.

He never made pancakes for us after that night. Nor did he ever pick flowers from the fields or crack jokes until our stomachs hurt. My hand was never slotted between his and my head didn’t rest on top of his shoulders. He was colder, more distant. Quiet.

But the quiet grew old for us both. And the slipping away hurt more than anything I’d ever experienced. I was everyone else in his life. Fighting for a spot in the light so he would see me, smile at me, acknowledge me.

Part of me wondered why he never asked me to leave. To pack my bags and find another innocent man to love because he wouldn’t tolerate it anymore. But he never did. Harry hated being alone and I knew better than anyone else. I knew it because I was his best friend at some point. We shared the same breaths and drank from the same glasses. I wore his shirts and he used my hair clips. He kept me around not because he still wanted me, but because he still needed me. And the realization of it all hurts worse than the silence because it’s then I know that I’ve really lost him. It leaves me with the question, ‘What have I done to deserve this?’

I think back on that night when our world shifted on its axis and I go over every word that was said. I check for any signs of discomfort or anger and I find nothing. It plagues me with a new insecurity.

Maybe it wasn’t something I’d said, maybe it wasn’t something I’d done. Maybe the warmth from the champagne grew cold in his blood and the false euphoria from it all cleared from his peripheral vision and he realized that I was no longer enough. I was not what he wanted. The idea of his roommate becoming his only friend too pathetic for a man with such power.

Soon after, I stop putting up a fight. I stop fighting for a spot in his life and I stop trying to win back a man that was never mine. I figured at least if he could never be mine and I would never be his, at least I still got to see his pretty face everyday. And I could imagine that we never drifted.

I wake in the night, I pace like a ghost. The tears running down my cheeks are hot, burning my skin until my throat dully aches and my chest is red with flakes of nail polish and the dragging of my nails clawing at my chest.

I am sobbing, broken and tired. I dream of a life that is not as miserable. I dream of a life where I no longer doubt the things I love. Where I don’t have to question my friend’s loyalty.

He knocks on my door, leaning against it in only his flannel pants. He has tattoos that compliment his skin so well. He looks like a painting. I’m relieved to see him again. Even if it’s under these circumstances.

I wait for him to speak, even if it’s merely a mumble. Even if I cannot understand.

“Can you stop crying? I can’t sleep.” He requests. My lips part and I swear my lungs collapse within my chest. I can’t breathe and somehow I remain composed.

“Okay.” I say quietly, nodding along and trying to find his eyes. They look at the floor, and his face is contorted like it pained him to say that to me. Like it was against his will. But he doesn’t even look at me.

When he leaves, I collapse, shoulder shaking with rage, sadness, confusion instead of the contagious laughter that once rang out through the halls.

I decide then, July moon shining through the sash windows of my room that I couldn’t continue holding onto Harry. My heart still beats for him and my eyes still sparkled when his own lingered for just a moment longer on me, but I couldn’t like him.

Hatred doesn’t just happen. It creeps, seeps, saturates. It’s a pesky little thing that starts small until finally you can’t ignore how bothered you are. It’s vile and cruel. A poisonous little thing that no one is immune to. It’s a sad yet funny thing.

After that night, his selfish wishes turn to bitter comments which turn to vicious attacks at my confidence. And my resilience and devotion to silence, to ignore the cruelty of it all is worn thin. My bitten tongue is freed and I am betrayed by my own words. My own comments targeted at his deepest hurts. It’s a mutual hate between us, a mutual dislike.

We live within the same four walls, the same windows and creaky roof over our heads. We cook in the same kitchen and we sit on the same couch, but we cannot stand each other anymore. The house is no longer filled with love, and the warm heat turns to bitter cold. And yet, neither of us have the guts to leave.

We sit here, in a life thats so mean to us just because we are afraid of the loneliness that is surely to come with the other’s absence.

We are here, but we aren’t present. It makes me laugh, it makes me wonder.

Who could ever leave me? But who could stay?

The candles burned down to the floor, wax melting over the wood as the lights set a warm, homely mood for the night. The late December rush throughout the town turned to the few and far between searching for last minute supplies to ring in the new year. It’s peacefully still outside, and the dining room looks so nice I forget why the candles burn and our nicest plates are set out.

Harry insisted on having a small gathering with some of our friends to celebrate the new year before he went away for sometime for work. Being roommates, despite our lack of interest in establishing our own friendship, his friends become my friends and mine become his. It’s a fairly large group that was once two. But have now become so closely intertwined that it seems hard to differentiate who was friends with who first.

There was wine, pastas and breads. Hams and potatoes. Drinks and endless desserts. It felt nice, to have all those people we cared so deeply about chip in and help to create such a lovely meal for the few of us.

Hearing that first doorbell ring to see all of our friends stood proudly on our crooked doorstep made my heart flutter. Sarah, Mitch, Pauli, Elin, Charlotte, Nyoh. All holding various foods to add to the never ending supply on the multiple tables set in a row.

“Harry! Y/n!” The enthusiasm from our friends seemed to lighten the mood, letting the heavy feeling of heated arguments and constant anger slip down my back and into the farthest part of my brain.

It was times like these where I’d forget how to hate. How to spread anger and disgust to someone who clearly showed none of it in return in these times. Here, Harry was talkative. Always plastering on a fake smile and wave.

He was good at pretending. And while the walls of the house had seen a different story, those around us were innocent, forever unknowing of how Harry constantly belittled me, bothered me. Of how I was no better. How my tongue was sharp and my words shot to kill.

Nobody minded the difference in height of the dinning room table against the kitchen table. How one was round and the other a rectangle. Both covered by one long table cloth. Nobody minded the soft music in the background or how the light wasn’t the brightest. The soft flickers never mentioned.

We let the candles burn until they had nothing left to give, and we ate until it was bare and our stomachs hurt. Here, I never felt like I was trapped. Here, I remembered why I came to live with Harry in the first place. And I was thankful. It was times like these I couldn’t help smiling like an idiot. Cheeks sore and eyes crinkling. I would laugh at just about anything, trust anyone and agree with everything.

“When are you going to tell him?” An elbow to the ribs pulled my gaze from the end of the table, my smile dropping for only a moment at the sudden shock.

“Sorry?” I mumbled softly into Sarah’s ear. Her eyes glimmered with something mischievous, like she knew something that I didn’t. She licked her pink lips and looked briefly back to the end of the table. All the way over by the dining table, sat a few feet away and a couple inches higher, was Harry. Laughing and talking with Pauli and Elin about anything and everything. I couldn’t quite make it out over the soft chatter of Mitch and Charlotte and the clinking of forks on plates.

“Harry!” She called softly. When my eyebrows furrowed she rolled her eyes, sighing heavily.

“I don’t get it.” Forking another bite of vegetables into my mouth, I watched her fight for the right words to say. Her lips finally settling on the soft smile I knew very well.

“Don’t play dumb, Y/n. I know that look. Better than anyone. Thats how I look at Mitch.” She playfully nudged my shoulder. Did she believe that I held any romantic feelings for Harry? I couldn’t, it was impossible. Right?

His rude remarks and his mean demeanor. Sure, at one point my heart beat for the brunette with an infectious smile and shiny green eyes, but now it was a memory of the past. Another pretty face who had thrown away all of his charm and care and exchanged with unwavering cruelty.

“Oh, no. Sarah, I don’t think about him that way.” I tried to wave her off, trying to sound the least amount disgusted by her assumption. I couldn’t help but wonder why she thought that.

“I don’t believe you.” She sounded smug, crossing her hands on my thigh and giggling. “You don’t have to. I believe myself.” Brushing her off, I take another bite of any remaining scraps on my plate. Trying to avoid conversation.

“Come on, you seriously don’t see it?” She sounded exasperated now, even more so when I nodded carelessly. She was getting tired of my avoidance to the conversation, my disinterest in her false discovery. Still, the longer she pushed, the more I felt the heat rush to my face. The more my cheeks burned and my skin tingled.

“I’m serious, Sarah. I don’t look at him in anyway. He’s just my roommate. Nothing more, nothing less.” I lean back, volume brought down to a mere whisper with the dying laugher at the other end of the table.

“Well, he’s your friend at least, right?” The lump in my throat was unswallowable. With the growing tightness in my throat and the clamminess of my palms. I wanted nothing more than to slip away and pretend this never happened. So, I bite my tongue and nod, eyes flickering to Sarah while I do so. I pray that she doesn’t see the tears welling in the corners and how glossy they’ve gotten in such a short period of time.

“Yeah, he’s my best friend.” The lie stings, burning as it comes out. Partially because I hate lying to my dear Sarah, but mainly because at some point it was the truth.

Harry was my everything at one point in my life. He might as well have hung the damn moon and stars. I thought the world of him, wanted nothing more than to feel his arms wrapped around mine all the damn time. And it killed me that we’d gotten so far away from that idea that I had to lie about even being acquainted with him.

“Word of advice.” She started, eyeing Harry carefully. My eyes remained glued to the table, fork wobbling between my pointer finger and my thumb. “Best friends don’t look at each other that way.” And when she finished what she wanted to say, I swear my heart just about stopped. All color draining from my face and my eyes rapidly blinking away the tears by now.

Setting my fork down, I ignore her playful smile and the nudge of her shoulder into mine. I look for another face to converse with, to make me begin to forget everything I was trying so desperately to escape. When I search the table, it seems like each person has found themselves in deep conversation with the other. All but one.

And his green eyes capture mine in a way I haven’t known in so long. I’d forgotten what it was like to be the center of his gaze. How thrilling it was. With my eyes, glossed over and heart beating through my chest, it seemed impossible for me to ever consider looking away. His chocolate brown curls and sweet pink lips in a gentle smile. It was consuming and alluring. Irresistible even.

A face that once disgusted me, shattered my heart, angered me and knocked me down with no air left to breathe seemed not all that frightening anymore. And the warmth that spread in my chest scared me more than anything.

I begin to realize, maybe Sarah was right. Maybe that was why I hated him so much. I didn’t hate Harry Styles. And thats why it hurt just that much more. I didn’t hate him at all, in fact. No, rather my poor heart couldn’t handle the heartbreak and deflected in the most malicious way possible. I missed my best friend.

“Y/n.” Sarahs voice pulls me from my haze, and my eyes are flickering over to hers quickly. Lips still parted and eyes still wide.

“You’re crying.” I hadn’t felt the salty heat dripping down my cheeks until she announced it. My skin too numb from embarrassment to even understand what was happening.

My tongue is tied, and my throat is killing me. I feel like I might vomit if I stay here any longer. I can’t be here any longer, I can’t do it. Not when I’ve just realized what I did. I feel what I felt all those months ago when Harry told me to stop crying. When he shut me out for good and became bitter. I feel all air leave my lungs and my knees wobbling. I am going to collapse.

“I just need air.” I say all too loudly, pushing out the chair clumsily and stepping back. The loud scratch of the wooden legs of the wooden floors turns heads and my heavy breathing tells me to get the hell out.

I pardon myself after that, waving off any concern from Sarah, and making sure nobody else saw my escape. Everyone’s still deep into conversation when I turn the corner. All but Sarah and Harry. But neither of them make a move to reach me. I let myself collapse on my bed, mascara running down my white sheets and back aching from how stiff I became at that table. I silently pray that I’ll sleep through the rest of winter.

When the dinner got cold and we’d all run out of things to say, we all look around and silently agree to part ways. It was nice to have some company, I enjoyed being around these people so much. My heart should have been full, yet it felt heavy and empty all at the same time. Littered with a guilt I wasn’t even sure was mine.

I’d seen the way she looked at me. Really looked at me. Glossed over eyes and a quivering lip. She was red with the rush of adrenaline in her blood. Anyone could see how quickly she began to breathe. It was like she was stuck, consumed by something so strong that it left her powerless, weak, crumbling quickly under an undetermined pressure. She started to cry, biting back a sob by biting harshly into her bottom lip, eyes shaking while she searched my face. I couldn’t help but wonder what had happened. Who had said what, and how I could help her.

I wanted to yell at whoever hurt her this bad. And the feeling of that in itself was unsettling. How my heart still longed to comfort, protect the heart of the girl who once shattered my own with her own words. More than that, I wanted to scream when nobody followed her when she ran. How nobody cared nearly enough about why she was so upset.

I couldn’t understand why I was so invested in her. Someone I was sworn to hate. Someone I had teased and fought for months and let hurt me constantly in retaliation.

But then again, we were no better than one another. We never were. Always saying too little and not opening up quite enough. Creating issues instead of solving problems. We were explosive, nobody could hurt me quite like she could and yet, I felt horrible that she was so upset.

Like the day I’d found her pacing restlessly across the floor. Skin blotchy and eyes puffy with tears. Throat sore with the violent sobs ripping through them. I’d wanted to hold her then too, but I was too bitter to do anything but tell her to quiet down. I felt the same guilt in my bones. And I make the same mistakes I made the first time. I watch her break down and sit with the uneasiness of it all.

Mitch lays a hand over my shoulder, his other arm wrapped around Sarah as he leads her through the door. His eyes look sad and tired. But his smile is genuine and filled with concern.

“Check on Y/n for us okay? Sarah thought it would be best to leave her be for now.” His hand left my shoulder and the door shut quickly after. Leaving me with the unbearable silence and loneliness I felt so frequently nowadays. It breaks down my walls and scares the shit out of me.

Maybe thats why I make my way to the kitchen, shuffling slowly along the floors and leaning slowly over the makeshift tables. A bottle of rouge in one hand, a pack of cigarettes in the other. I stuff them in my pocket and hold the bottle close to my side.

I’m slow, delaying the inevitable question. When I knock on the door, it’s quiet. Almost like I’m hoping that if it’s soft enough, she won’t hear and I can pretend she was ignoring me. But, she does hear me, and she calls out a raspy, muffled welcome, signaling for whoever was hidden behind the door to come through and take in her puffy eyes and wet cheeks.

My throat tightens when I smell her perfume. Something that I would have drowned in not so long ago. She has clothes thrown on a chair in the corner, the same one I sat in so many months ago. I’m tempted to push them off and just sit in the silence with her like we once enjoyed doing.

Her head is in her pillow and her arms are underneath her. She is unaware of who she has let in, but her silence and unmoving body tells me she’s lost all ability to care. I want to leave. I want to turn around and convince myself it was all a mistake. I’d checked on her and she was still alive and well. I’d done my part and I could go on guilt free and forget about how crushed she’d looked just hours before.

When I begin to turn on my heels and pray for this day to be over, I see something unforgettable. A small Polaroid from last year. Just weeks after she’d moved in and charmed me with her beauty and whit. She’s sat with her legs over my lap and my arms around her body. We couldn’t be any happier, and the memory makes my chest sting.

She still cared enough to keep up the old memories of us, even after all the fights and mean glares. Why did she have to keep the damn photo up?

Guilt consumes me once again, and I am faced with the sad woman in front of me, still in the same place as before and just as sad as before. My feet betray my mind, and soon I am stood beside her bedside table with a bottle of wine dangling between my pointer finger and my middle finger.

The glass knocks against her shoulder in a silent invitation. My eyes wordlessly asking her to follow. Her eyes are red, and her lips still shake. She looks completely torn apart, desperate and distraught. Disheveled even. But for some reason in my blurry head, all I can think about is how absolutely beautiful she is in the pale moonlight.

“Come on.” I ask her softly, offering her my hand. When she takes it, she’s nodding already. Trusting a man who deserves no second chances, no trust whatsoever for his cruelty and his inability to communicate. But she follows regardless.

I can’t help but realize how having her so close feels good.

He lights the cigarette for me and watches as I let it burn. My lips twitch as they wrap around the end, tasting the bitterness of its contents and the dry paper.

“How did we end up here?” I ask him, looking over the horizon. The waves are calming over here. They almost silence the ringing in my ears, despite the distance between where we sit, feet dangling over the empty pool edge and the large grass behind it.

He shrugs, snagging the cigarette from my hand delicately and taking a long drag from its end. We swap, my hands wrap around the neck of the wine bottle. It’s tinted green and nearly full.

“Unlucky people, I guess.” He looks at his feet. They dangle in the pool beside mine. You can see just how close we are in the turquoise tint. How the lights make us look less vibrant.

“I wouldn’t consider us unlucky.” I look at the sky, and I can feel his eyes on my face. It makes me swallow, how intense his gaze is. It almost makes it feel that much more real.

“Why’s that?” He asks, twisting the bud out on the cement. It stains the freshly cleaned grey stone an ashy black, but I bite my tongue.

“We had each other. Maybe we aren’t the best people, maybe we’re cruel, but I’d rather argue than live in solitude, right? Company can’t be bought. Even the most painful of it. That’s something real. Something without a price. And we’ve got it.” And it’s true. We fight and we throw shit. We stain the walls and rip the curtains. We start fires and try to blame the other. We make a mess and make amends. But a house isn’t a home without someone to share it with. And at least if we had to suffer to get there, we got it.

“Thats some of your poet shit.” He laughs sadly into the silence, looking at his feet. I laugh along, though I can tell he was only half joking. Then, I let the silence wash back over us. Forgetting how we almost had a full conversation.

“I’m not a bad person. I don’t know why I’m so mean.” He says sincerely. It’s sudden too. I can tell from the rawness in his voice. How his eyes tear up and his lips quiver. His voice cracks. Our feet hang off the edge of the backyard. It’s a quiet life. Even now. With our fights and all the fraud. But it’s never a lonely life, and we only have each other to thank for it.

I want to tell him I know, and I’m so sure of it. I’ve seen the real him, we might just not mesh together. But we once had, and that fact alone holds me back. He takes the lack of response and an opportunity to excuse himself. Pulling his body up by the arms and grunting through the sliding back door. I sit alone in the backyard for hours, body curling up into itself and layers of clothing becoming less than enough after some more time.

“I know.” I whisper into the silence. I know he’s not a bad person, I know it so well and I am so certain of it. I knew Harry once. He’s loyal and kind and the smartest man I’d ever met. And I miss knowing him like that so much.

I thought for a second tonight, I’d gotten part of him back. And maybe I had, but he left so soon I couldn’t really tell all that well. He’s left me back in the silence, wondering what happened to us, and what will happen to us. Why he came to get me, and why he even bothered to open up to me. But he never gives me the time to properly ask, even if I planned to.

I ring in the New Year alone.

The next morning he’s gone. Back to New York for his business in the big city and I am left to sit and think about what was said. A half empty bottle of wine stained with my red lipstick and glitter on the floor from old party poppers Charlotte and Elin had made sure to use before making their exit. I repeat his words.

He’s not a bad person, so why is he so mean? It’s best left unknown. Because if theres one thing I fear more than anything, it’s the realization of rejection.

Even from a man I hate so entirely, it consumes me. That I could not stand to be faced with the fact that Harry and I do not get along simply because we do not work and not because of some other underlying reason.

After all, we had it all. Gave each other everything the other had wanted. Food, shelter, company. There was really so explanation for the bitterness between us.

After all, all this time, despite his anger and hatred, he never left me to the wolves. And despite my heartbreak and sadness, I never left him with an empty home.

A wise man once said to never bite the hand that feeds it. Yet, here we are. Ripping skin from bone until we are left with nothing. We are the ungrateful, the selfish, the cruel. And we both believe that we are in the right.

I am so scared of rejection from this man who I claim to hate because he is the hand that feeds me and I am the hand to him.

We aren’t bad people, so why are we so mean? We recognize all we have to be grateful for, so why do we bite the hand that feeds us?

I guess the vulnerability of it all must have scared us. And while facing the storm, we did what all people do. We let fear consume us and we bite.

Somehow, through all of this. The realizations and the tears and wine and dusty ashes, I love him. Even with my teeth sinking into his skin and his own in mine, drawing blood, I love him. I love Harry Styles. He is my best friend and I am his. That is why I am scared and that is why it hurts so bad. Not because I simply missed him, but rather because my heart was devoted to a man who did not want it.

My fingers fumble over the pad on the phone. I type up his phone number by heart and let it ring. He answers quickly, still waiting for his plane at the airport.

“Y/n?” I can hear the bustling crowds around him and the loud engines taking off from other terminals. I imagine he is plugging one of his ears and mentally cursing the noise for making it so hard to hear.

“Come home.” My breathing is unstable, and my hands run through my hair so much I create new tangles by my neck.

“What? No, Y/n, I have to go. People are expecting me.” He starts to explain how important this is for his business. How it would be so much simpler to be there rather than over a computer screen.

“Fuck them, who cares! Harry, I need you, and I want you, please just listen to me for once. Don’t scoff, or…or roll your eyes or leave! Listen to me this once and if it’s not worth it to you, I promise you’ll never have to listen to me again. Please, it’s important.” I ramble all in one breath, endless pleas met with silence. I can feel the rejection coming, I can hear the way he chokes on a breath, debating what I said.

“Okay.” The phone goes dead with his promise to come home. With the continuous beeps, I slowly come to terms with what I’d just done. But I do not feel panicked, or scared. I feel lighter with the fact that I am about to tell the moody boy something I wished I told him a long time ago.

The door opens with a creak, keys jingling in his large palms. I’d spent the morning pacing the kitchen. Leaving a trail of confetti behind in my wake. I hadn’t cared enough to clean with my endless thoughts and extreme amounts of adrenaline.

“Y/n?” His voice was unsure when it rang out. As if he didn’t know what to expect. The door shut behind him not long before I came rushing around the corner, fingernails bitten to the skin and hangnails bleeding profusely.

“God, Y/n what the hell…” Taking my hands into his, he examined the redness of my irritated skin stained further with dry blood.

“I know.” I looked at him, and he looked back at me like I was crazy.

“What?” His thumbs bent over the backs of my palms, holding me in front of him.

“I know.” I breathed out again, looking at him with such sincerity, praying for him to understand. “You’re not a bad person, and I know it because I know you. Because we fight and we tease and we scream and cry. But I know you because once we didn’t do all of that. And I needed you to know that because it wasn’t fair of me to make you believe that to be true after everything you’ve done for me.” My voice shook with how vulnerable I felt myself becoming. Harry’s hands only tightened the further I explained.

“But what about all I’ve done to you. Y/n, I’ve been awful to you and I never even told you why.” He tried to argue. I shook my head, biting my lips.

“I haven’t been much better.” I smiled sadly. He shook his head back.

“No.”

“Yes.” I blinked hard, pushing back the tears that formed watching his own gather by his waterline.

“No, Y/n, I’ve been horrible. I’ve been mean.” He tried to push away everything I was trying to ignore.

“And so have I.” I tried harder to make him understand.

“But you only did it because I had. And for what?” He finally spoke, voice raised with so much desperation behind it, I froze under his touch.

“Because I loved you so much it drove me fucking insane? Because I still love you and I’m afraid if I can’t get you to hate me I’ll never be able to stop.” He was crying now, pleading with me to make me see his side of things. All I could do was shake my head.

“Harry I could never hate you.”

“But you could never love me.” He argued.

“Thats not true, Harry tell me you know that it couldn’t be true.” I rip my hands from his grip to rest them on his cheeks. I try to wipe away his tears, but his hands cover my wrists and pull them back down.

“How could I? You said it yourself. All those months ago, I told you. I held you close and I told you I loved you. You told me I was your best friend. You couldn’t even pretend!” Neither of us could tell if he was angry or just sad. Maybe both, but no amount of denial would calm him down.

“I didn’t have to, I still don’t have to pretend! Harry, I only said that because I was so fucking scared. Scared of us, of me, of you. Of losing you if it didn’t work. And I lost you anyways, I would’ve just said it if I knew I’d lose you like this.” Our chests bumped and his fingers slipped between mine.

“Y/n.” He whispered into the silence, over our heavy breathing and salty tears.

“I love you, and I miss you.” He didn’t say anything. I could feel him slipping away as soon as his response never came. Not a single word left to say between us. Not a single amount of energy left to fight.

And then he was kissing me. Hard and sweet. Like I was everything he’d ever wanted and more. Like he was hungry, needing more and more of something he had always wanted but could never have. And at the same time, it was soft and tender. Like he never wanted it to end. My back arched within the grip of his wandering hands and my fingers tangling in his curls. I swore I would never let him go.

But it was a swear I couldn’t keep, because air dwindled quickly and spit strung between our lips. Something I would usually gag at, but didn’t mind at the moment. His forehead against mine and arms gripping the fabric by my hips so tight if I moved he could have ripped it.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized in between his heaving breaths.

“Me too.” Looking at him, I could see the red staining his lips from the makeup I’d slept in. It made me laugh, which in result made him smile.

“What? What!” He laughed along cluelessly, letting me back away for a moment.

“You have something-“ I pointed again his mouth and smiled.

“Oh do I? Do I?” He kissed my cheek, smearing the remnants of our kiss across my cheek. “Still there?” He asked with a sly grin. Like he knew he was winning.

So I kissed him hard again, smearing red around his skin and his pink lips with so much love, there was no denying my feelings anymore. There was no hate left to give.

“Yeah, you do.” It was yet another fight, but not one I minded.

After all, thats what we did for so long, it was what we were good at. The teasing and the fighting. Only now it wasn’t bitter, it was playful. And we didn’t coexist with the sole purpose of it.

Because now I was his and he was mine. And this knowledge answered all my questions, all my doubts I’d had before about our relationship and our shared insecurities that led us down this scaring path.

Harry was my best friend, and I was his. And there was no love greater than that.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry x reader #fine line harry styles #harry styles #yn x harrystyles #yn x harry

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sugoi-and-spice · 2 years ago

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Chapter One - Wistful Thinking

Pairing: Bully!Dabi x Fem!Reader, (3rd Person)

Summary: If a boy is picking on you, it means he likes you. She could almost laugh. By that logic, Dabi must’ve been fucking in love with her. That thought was what finally made the tears start to spill. Not because of how ridiculous it was or how isolating it felt. But because it was exactly what she wanted.

CW: Alternate Universe - No Quirks (My Hero Academia), Dubious Consent, Unhealthy Relationships, Bullying, Manipulation, Humiliation, Childhood Friends, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Power Play, Angst, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm. Future Tags: Drugs, Alcohol, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Attempted Sexual Assault, Rough Sex, Hate Sex, Smut, Porn With Plot, Explicit Sexual Content, Angst and Porn, Sadism

A/N: In celebration of Dabi's dance being animated, I'm posting the first chapter of a request for a Bully!Dabi fic that should've been a one-shot, but just went completely off the rails (where have we heard that one before? Lol). Currently, the fic will be completed at three chapters, but I actually really like the idea so it' not impossible that I might expand it further once Play Nice is completed. ^_^

Read Full Chapter on AO3

[excerpt]

If a boy is picking on you, it means he likes you.

That’s what her mother always used to say.

“I told you to get me orange juice.”

She flinched at the venom in Dabi’s tone as he glared up at her from his desk. She stood in front of him, ready for her reprimand like a dutiful employee. A good little slave.

His eyes narrowed when she didn’t answer, “Didn’t I?”

“Y-Yes!” she yelped.

“So what the fuck is this?” he demanded, grabbing the can she’d presented to him and waving it in her face.

She dropped her gaze to the ground, hands wringing anxiously. It wasn’t just the heat of Dabi’s glare or the bite of his words that was making it hard to stay standing. The sadistic amusement of his friends, Jin and Keigo, perched lazily on the desks around him were just as painful. Not to mention the rest of their class watching on with smug little smiles and whispers.

“T-They were out of orange juice,” she stammered, “So I got you orange-flavored tea…”

Dabi watched her, waiting for any more qualifications, any last excuses. But her eyes stayed down, lips stayed shut. The only change was in her now shuffling feet.

So he popped open the tab and took a drink.

“Hmm.”

Hope swelled in her chest. Maybe she’d done enough this time. She looked up tentatively. Bored, piercing blue awaited her. He held her there for a moment, letting her think, letting her settle into relief and security.

Catching her in a trap.

He smirked.

“It’s fucking disgusting.”

And threw the open can straight at her chest.

It hit her with an audible force, dousing her uniform and splashing all over the desk and floor.

Jin snorted out a laugh, “Oh shit.”

Keigo next to him was noticeably silent, just watching for her reaction.

“Seriously, how can you be this useless?” Dabi spat, pulling his legs off the desk before any of the tea could spread to his shoes.

Dripping, she tried desperately to fight the quiver from her lip. It was not a fight she was winning.

He stood with an annoyed sigh, “Now I’ve gotta go get it myself. Happy?

She didn’t dare respond, not with that familiar lump growing larger and larger in her throat. If she so much as breathed in that moment, she’d cry for sure. And crying in front of Dabi would only make things worse.

So much worse.

“Better clean up your mess before class starts if you don’t want to get in trouble,” he called back as he made his way to the door, Jin close behind him.

Keigo stayed for a moment, watching with furrowed brows as she knelt down on trembling legs into the spreading orange-tinted puddle.

“Oi, Bird Brain. Let’s go!”

He quickly turned on his heel, following the call without a second thought.

She picked the can up, fruitlessly trying to stop the spill — it was practically empty at this point.

If a boy is picking on you, it means he likes you.

She could almost laugh. By that logic, Dabi must’ve been fucking in love with her.

That thought was what finally made the tears start to spill. Not because of how ridiculous it was or how isolating it felt.

But because it was exactly what she wanted.

Continue on AO3

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sungbeam · 1 year ago

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𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐒 — teaser

nonidol!ji changmin x f!reader

your sister's dead, but apparently that's not the most shocking news. maybe she wasn't killed on accident, maybe ji changmin isn't really human, and maybe the monsters were never under the bed but all around you...

▷ genre, teaser warnings. strangers 2 reluctant friends/allies 2 lovers, slow burn, demon/supernatural creature au, forced proximity trope, murder mystery, suspense; mention of a weapon, one allusion to god (im not religious and this fic does not elaborate on religion), mention of food, mention of blood

▷ est. wc. 30-40k (isn't that range funny 💀)

▷ projected release date. sometime in november? as long as i like it lol FIND IT HERE

▷ comment/send an ask to be added to the taglist! those on my permanent taglist will automatically be tagged.

TEASER BELOW THE CUT (APPROX. 300 WORDS)

The thought had you waving a fry at him. "The switchblade," you began, drawing his attention and pancake-stuffed cheeks, "what was it? It definitely wasn't something human-made."

Changmin swallowed his bite. "It was an angel blade."

"You're kidding," you drawled in disbelief.

He challenged your stare. "Believe it or not, it was. Forged up there." He lifted the prongs of his fork up toward the ceiling, shaking his bangs out of his eyes.

Your jaw dropped. "So the Big Man Upstairs does exist?"

"I mean, I don't really know. I've never met him if he does. I just know the angels are ruled by the Seraphim," he told you. "Lots of hierarchical bullshit I didn't care to pay attention to."

He impaled another piece of pancake. "Angel blades are one of the few things that can kill a creature like that."

"A demon?" You asked.

"Yes. Lower level demons are easier to kill, especially with a blade like the one I gave you." He shoved the bite into his cheek to continue, "That's why I was able to take on multiple at once."

You made a noise of indignation. "So you're telling me you're a higher level demon?"

His shoulders fell in a half-hearted shrug.

"Helpful," you muttered as you washed your meal down with bittersweet coffee. You paused for a moment, cleaning your fingers off with a napkin. "The… the licking thing."

Changmin's eyes could not meet yours. "Mhm."

"Do you… do you do that often?"

"No," he said curtly. "That party trick only works on humans and I don't really enjoy the taste of blood."

You pursed your lips at his rather clipped response. "Oh." You recalled the sound he'd made as he cleaned your blood up with his tongue at the motel… maybe it was something out of disgust. You suddenly felt out of place, like you had made his shoulders tense up and the air crackle. You racked your brain. "I—thanks, by the way."

With a cough, he murmured, "Welcome. Couldn't have you dying on me."

You nursed your coffee cup, reaching up to absentmindedly fondle the pendant under your shirt. "Yeah."

a/n: this is currently my pride and joy, pls do not tear it apart </3 i thought this genre would be a nice challenge, but instead, it became something like a passion project ksnfksnf

tbz m.list

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @zzoguri @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @bless-311 @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @justalildumpling @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @outrologist @vernonburger @maessseongs @ericlvr @kflixnet

#kflixnet #deoboyznet #bjnet #the boyz x reader #ji changmin x reader #q x reader #changmin x reader #the boyz oneshot #the boyz imagines #the boyz scenarios #the boyz drabbles #the boyz fanfic #ji changmin imagines #ji changmin oneshots #ji changmin drabbles #ji changmin scenarios

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firerose18991 · 1 year ago

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Just Bimby Things Prt. 2

Prt. 1

Minors DNI

Megumi x bimbo!Reader

Info: jujutsu kaisen, bisexual themes for reader, bimbo! reader, party/ alcohol use, multipart fic, Written with black readers in mind, Smut

A/N: HVAC repairman megumi(itadori and nobara), interior decorator reader, used their surnames and first name interchangeably, 18+ characters, not proofread (sorry lol)

Wed cnt: 1,478

The breakfast cart arrived and Yuji served everyone what they had wanted. By now you had recovered and Kugisaki was…conscious and eating slowly. Megumi had finally surrendered his cool façade and enjoyed the presence of his friends. He even let you sit on his lap again to make more room for Kugusaki to sprawl out on the bed.

"Megumi, can I try the potatoes?" You asked eating your pancakes.

The two of you had your plates sandwiched between your bodies as you ate.

"Hash browns." he corrected.

"Can I have please? Just a bit." You squirmed I'm his lap.

"Didn't you want pancakes?" He treated you like so dumb kid.

"I like the potatoes though, but I won't eat all, so I didn't get."

"So you do have a brain." Megumi cut into his hash brown. "I still shouldn't give you any though.".He pushed the piece towards the side of the plate closest to you and pointed with his fork.

"Ahh" you opened your mouth expectantly.

Megumi's brain stopped firing, not fully processing what you expected him to do. When he finally put two and two together he glared and smacked the top of your head.

"Don't demand more of someone you've already inconvenienced." Nonetheless he stabbed the segment of food and brought the food to your mouth.

You giggled as you chewed.

"Jou wanth pahncake". you talked over the food in your mouth.

"Finish chewing." Megumi looked disgusted.

"Be quiet" Kugisaki groaned to both of you as she chewed. "What the hell did Maki put in those drinks?" She put her food to the side and laid back down.

"Kugisaki you drank the least last night, how are you this defeated?" Yuji teased

"I don't know" She cried exhaustedly.

While she was regaining her strength Yuji set up his console to wait out her hangover.

"Here Y/N" he held a controller in your direction.

You looked at it confused before taking it to examen.

"You won't be able to play like this." Megumi said to you.

"I don't wanna move." You pouted.

Megumi rolled his eyes at your childish action.

As you were straddling him your back was to the TV on the opposite side of the room, you pouted as you tried everything to think of a solution.

"You can play for both of us" You smiled excitedly and handed him your controller.

"I'll be your cheerleader."

"Come on, it's no fun with two players.". Yuji complained

"I'm not moving Yuji."

"It's fine she probably would slow the game anyway." Megumi smirked as he looked down at the top of your head to see if he sparked any reaction.. He was instead met by sharp pains on his arm.

"Ugh fuck…did you bite me?!". You giggled into his chest.

"SHUT UP!" Nobara had had enough.

The suit remained quiet(ish) till the early evening. The group decided to finally clean up from the party and watch some movies instead. You still buzzed around Megumi all day. On the couch, in the common area, you held onto his arm and rested your head on his shoulder.

Even though Fushiguro wasn't quite used to sharing space with unfamiliar people he found your presence harmless and even leaned into you at times.

By the afternoon you could hear rustling from the boys room.

"I am going to take a shower and then we can start the plans for the day.". Nobara emerged from the boys room only sounding slightly less battered than she did that morning.

"Fucking Finally!!" Yuji boosted from his chest

Yuji jumped up from the couch to get himself prepared. Though you changed no one had showered since the night before and the grime was definitely starting to build.

Yuji was done relatively quickly so you took over their bathroom.

"Megumi, how do you work the shower?" You called in your sing-songy voice from the bathroom.

Megumi rolled his eyes as entered the bathroom to help you.

"C'mon how did you get a job in home improvement if you can't- where are your clothes?"

"I'm getting ready for the shower." You stood in front of him unabashed of the way your chest swayed with each movement.

Fushiguro looked away before he was accused of ogling you. But he couldn't hide the rose tint to his cheeks and prayed he wouldn't need to cover a tent.

"So what do I do?" You peeked around his arm so close your budding nipples pushed against his arm.

Fushiguro took a deep breath and worked to get out of the bathroom before he embarrassed himself. He turned the knob in the shower to warm water.

"How's this?" His voice was almost a whisper.

You reached underneath his arm and used the small of his back to stabilize yourself. You swayed your hand under the water to get a feeling for the temperature.

"It's a little cold." You sighed, reaching your dry arm around his torso.

He turned the knob further to a warm setting. You reached your hand underneath the stream and hummed in satisfaction. Your wet hand slipped back to Fushiguro and left a print on his shirt.

"Sorry, I got your shirt all wet." You moved between him and the shower door to start unbuttoning his shirt.

"It's fine I can change after…." He mumbled as you worked through all the buttons and untucked whatever was left in his pants and took it off of him.

"You can shower with me." You batted your eyes. Your tone was innocent and yet he couldn't tell if it was an offer or a demand.

Fushiguro finally moved his hand to cup the gentle curves of your body and pressed his lips to yours. You smiled into the kiss pressing more of yourself against him. The two of you molded into one another, the sounds of water and steam filled the room around you. Almost in your own little world, the two of you forgot the time crunch you were facing.

"(Y/N) can I use some of your cleanser?" Nobara yelled from the hall as she made her way to the boys room.

Fushiguro pulled his lips away from you quickly but you still remained pressed against him.

"You should take your shower." He squeezed out from between you and the wall and left the bathroom just as Nobara entered the bedroom.

"C'mon Fushiguro get ready!" She brushes past him to get to you in the bathroom.

While the two of you got sorted Megumi took the time to get himself ready and sat down to think about what just occurred. A half hour later the gang was all ready to set out.

"Alright everyone, we can't do anything like last night. Can't have you hungover at the checkout tomorrow." Megumi rounded you all into the elevator

"Whatever. I've got two shopping districts we need to hit before we come back. Yuji has two restaurants. (Y/N)....?"

"Oooo there's a bakery I want to go to for cookies. And I want to get some new clothes. And ummm"

"Alright 2 per person. Megumi?" Nobara typed the plans into her phone.

"Just want to hit the pool later."

You all headed to Nobara's first district which contained your bakery and Yuji's restaurant. Nobara really wanted to come for the photo ops but you took the chance to grab everything you could to fill those empty shopping bags of yours. You dragged Megumi along, one of his hands holding your own and his other your bags. Megumi swore he could hear whispers about how cute of a couple the two of you were and he began to take some pride in holding onto you.

The nightlife in the city began to pick up at your final destination. As much as Megumi stressed clean fun, the two of you still ended up carrying Yuji and Nobara back to the hotel. You placed Nobara in Megumi's bed as he put Yuji down in his.

"Uh (Y/N)?" He noticed his bed was now taken.

You skipped over to him and quietly pulled him out of the room and across the suit to your bedroom and locked the door behind. Before he even knew what was going on you were pressing kisses on his face and tugging at his shirt up. Once it was off you pressed your weight to lay him down on the bed. Megumi's hand crept up your thigh pulling your dress just above the hem of your panties.

He tugged at them but your impossible tiny underwear was stuck on the curve of your ass. You hiked a leg up the side of his, he could feel the warmth of your cunt along his abdomen. You wiggled one leg out of your underwear, consequently causing an overflow of your breasts from the top of your dress. You panties hung on the opposite leg and you moved to unzip the back of your skin tight dress.

"Leave it." Megumi leaned up to stop you from removing the dress.

He flipped the position, laying you back, he unzipped the top of his pants and shimmied them down enough to show you what you were working with. Fuck, was it a lot. He teased you entrance a bit, gathering the precum that already gushed out of you. You let out a salacious moan feeling his tip twitch against your clit.

You urged him on using your leg to pull him closer to you. Megumi positions himself between your puffy lips and pushes into the plush pulsating walls.

"Hmmp" he bit his lip to stifle a moan but you couldn't be bothered.

Your voice hit the walls of your throat in soft squeals and he plunged his girth further into you. The satisfying fill reached through your body and he fully sheathed himself. He sucked the flesh of your throat like the sweetest berries in a garden and left you red and blue.

Each thrust left you breathless. He was so careful with you taking care to hit all your nice spots with a special softness. You moved your hips into his perfectly chasing the end of that perfect feeling.

"M' gonna…" you gaped out feeling Megumi hit your sweet spot once more.

You hand snakes down his back lighting his body on fire. He made sure to pump right into that spot that had you leaking onto the bed sheet and squeezing him tight. Your orgasm washed over first, your back pushed down into the bed as you gave him the tightest squeeze of his life. The pulsing almost took the work out of his thrusts and soon he was spilling out into you.

The two of you took the time to cool off before Megumi slipped out. You were already fast asleep, legs still spread from your orgasm and nipples parked from the cool air.

Fushiguro shook his head and turned out the lamp.

A/N: bro said unshakeable character he never said it had to be good

-Fire Rose

Prt 3

#chaos shit #sucking me off #black reader #multi part fic #megumi smut #jjk megumi #megumi x reader #jujutsu kaisen megumi #megumi fushiguro #jujutsu megumi #jujutsu kaisen smut #smut #x bimbo!reader #bimbo reader #x reader #fanfic #megumi fic

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hughiecampbelle · 6 months ago

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Depredation (Bucky Barnes Oneshot)

Character/s: Bucky, Sam, Zemo, Selby mention

Word Count: 1,521

TW: sa, implied sa

A/N: Me? Writing about my issues? That's crazy. Unheard of. Never been done before lol. This is silly, like really silly, but I might be replacing my couch with a bed and when I tell you I couldn't be more excited!!! My apartment is too narrow for both and idk, I have some bad instances attached to couches. It's been really hard to sleep since I moved. Hopefully they take my couch and I can get my wonderful bed with new strawberry sheets 🍓🥰🍰 I will be getting back to requests ASAP, just been something I couldn't get out of my brain until I wrote about it! ❤️🍓❤️🍓❤️🍓❤️

The cool air kisses your skin. Down your neck, your collarbones, the breeze bites, sinks her canines into you. You cannot resist. You cannot fight back. You must let her, greedy and starved, until you are nothing, until she is full. You are exposed, after all. You are asking for it, you think, but dare not say. It’s a costume. Lingerie. A series of mechanisms meant to hug and pinch disguised as (paraded as) armor. A threat. For them or you? It used to be a symbol, a great warning, but somewhere between then and now it became a target. The bullseye sits at your chest. They have heard the stories. You were always easy prey, weren’t you? Dutiful. Dedicated. Docile. You were well trained. It wasn’t really all that bad, right? It wasn’t the kind of thing you could find satisfaction in: the job. Lure them. Do as they pleased. And when they were done, put them down. There are a myriad of moments that cross your mind in the middle of a sunny day when you are least expecting it: a hand over your mouth, your legs, on your stomach. Body parts come to mind. Things they took without asking. By force. And then, there is a follow up of relief: the flow of red from their mouth, the gurgling, the groveling. You wait until they are quiet, unmoving, before you clean yourself off. Sometimes there are bruises. Bite marks. You let the water run until it burns. And when you are done, when you have scrubbed yourself raw, and all that remains is their lifeless gaze, then you may leave. There is no satisfaction in a job like this, but there a sickening kind of contentment. Do what they will, let them, and in the end they all must die.

You’re not sure who came up with the plan, only that you’ve found yourself stepping back, regressing into an old life, an old world. One you swore you would burn to the ground if it happened again. If this happened again. Maybe you could have fought. Hissing, before erupting. Your voice would have grown hoarse. You would have stifled a sob. Maybe it would have changed things. Instead you looked at each of them, humiliation and fury and insecurity washing over you. Realization sinks into you: this is always how it goes. This is always who you will be. Bucky goes to say something, but you turn, gaze downward, taking solace in the next room where you will inevitably change. When you come out you can feel them stare. Before you were you: feeling and thinking and a mass of complications. A person. After, you are desire and disgust and shame. You don’t know how quiet you’ve grown, how occupied you are, until you feel the cold touch of his hand, his prosthetic, intertwine his fingers with yours. It draws you back. You can’t look at him. Madrippoor was a city you found most of your clients in. You try not to pay attention to the streets, the clubs, the crowds, sure you’ve been a guest in all of them. It leaves you feeling sick. The Brass Monkey Saloon. Zemo takes one last look at all of you. You know your instructions. They are not so different from what they used to be, though you are far more conscious. Alive. Aware. He lets go first.

You find yourself between Sam and Bucky, grateful, knowing this was not unintentional. Zemo leads. Hands reach out to touch you, pinch and caress. Some follow your every move. You might have moved on, but the stories stayed the same. The myth, the monster. Others whisper, snicker, move through the crowd towards you. Follow. You try not to think about it. Picture it. What will happen. What has happened. Despite yourself, you look back, catch a glimpse, an attempt to memorize faces and features. All you see is danger. They know better than to touch you, but there is nothing else to do. The panic radiates off of you. If this is going to work, everyone must remain calm. Sam gently places a hand on your back, moving so that he is closer, a blockade between you and them. Unable to speak, he prays that this is enough of a sign. A comfort. You ball your hands into fists. Grit your teeth. This is not forever, you must remind yourself. This is finite, a temporary state. An act. A masquerade. Still, it is indefinite. There are no seconds to count. There is no timer. This will take as long as it needs. Still, you hope they will hurry.

There isn’t a moment of hesitation in him. Zemo speaks and Bucky complies. Why was it so difficult for you? It’s not that hard to feign interest, to smile, to put your mouth on someone else’s. And yet, amongst the chaos, a man has pulled you into his lap. He smells of expensive alcohol and cheap cologne. Maybe it’s the other way around. His hand is on your inner thigh. You want to scream. Yelp like a wounded dog. It’s a second, less than, that you meet Zemo’s eyes. For the mission, you can hear his voice, and suddenly it isn’t as hard as you anticipated. You lean back, whispering, using the voice they all like. Make your promises. A bedroom, a hotel room, just him and you. He can do whatever he wants. Tonight, you even insist, though you know, you were promised, you would go to bed alone. He tries to kiss you, but you turn your head, a reflex you immediately regret. He doesn’t take notice. There is spit on your cheek. You do not push him off. You do not grab the knife on your person and stab it into his eye, carve into his face until his jaw hangs loose from his skull, slice into his jugular until you are bathed in red. You slide off him, nonthreatening, polite. You smile. He smiles back: all of his teeth are gold.

Inside, you stand beside Bucky. Selby looks you up and down. Intrigued by you and him. Unlikely, and yet so alike. Zemo goes on about the deal they might come to: information about the serum for the both of you. She says what you’re all thinking, what everyone has ever thought about you: you are good for one thing and one thing only. He assures her you are the best at everything you do. You want to vomit. You could kill yes, but so could everyone here. If she took you, she would use you as they all have. They talk, but you cannot hear them over your own heartbeat. The room is hot and dark and it is too much. It reminds you of too much. You don’t hear Sarah’s voice or the gunshot or the thud of Selby’s body against the ground. None of it registers. It is instant. A pause in reality. Outside of your body. Bucky pulls you out, pushing you in front of him, and you resist the urge to fight him, to tell him to stop. It is instinctual. He would never, and yet you cannot tell the difference between him and them. They are interchangeable in this moment.

The four of you escape into the crowded streets. Zemo is upset, angry, but you don’t care. Instead you suck the fresh air, needy and gasping. One by one you crack your fingers. Repeatedly, repetitively, until the ringing in your ears subsides. Away from everyone, Sam hands you his jacket wordlessly. You try not to think about it. You’d never been so aware of their want. Desire. Lust. Just looking at you, knowing your reputation. Had it always been that way? It must’ve. You were so far away, all those years. Buried somewhere inside, deep, where no man could ever really touch. Ever get you. And when it was over, when they let go, when they got off of you, you came back temporarily. You’d move without thinking. If not a knife then a gun. If not that, a glass of scotch or a belt or a high heel. Anything could be a weapon if you were well trained enough. You’d bludgeon them before you let it happen again. You didn’t care what happened next, only that you had to get this thing off. Go back to the life you built, to the twin bed you slept in where there was no room for a second body. Please, you want to beg, you’d do anything to get out of this. Unhook, untie, unclasp. Rip it off if you had to. Claw your way out. Anything to stop being this person, this creature, this object. Please, you catch yourself saying, unsure of what to say next. Please, breath caught in your throat, and you know you have been you all along. You never “got out”. That was the facade, not this. You never left. You never moved on. This will always be a part of you. You can scrub, but it will never go away. Please . . .

#writing #sa tw #tw sa #tw sa mention #Bucky barnes #Bucky Barnes drabble #Bucky Barnes oneshot #the winter soldier #the winter soldier drabble #the winter soldier oneshot #marvel #marvel drabble #marvel oneshot

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haveyouseenthisskeleton · 1 year ago

Note

Ur guys r n a fight and choking someone out and the person randomly spits on his arm, hoping itll make him let them go.

What do they do?

I'll go with some fighters.

Undertale Papyrus - OK, so... Papyrus might have hit your head on the floor a little too hard after that, knocking you out very efficiently and probably breaking your nose. He's not too proud of it, but he's quite a maniac and this thing? He HATES it. He waits for you to wake up to apologize and go on with his day. He still feels a little bad for you.

Undertale Undyne - She slowly growls and brings her head next to your ear. "Is THAT the best you can do?" She then proceeds to laugh at your face. You feel even more humiliated. Yeah, nah, that's not working with her, sorry.

Underswap Sans - If you think it's going to prevent him from arresting you, you're wrong. He doesn't care at all and handcuffs you. He then proceeds to clean his arm on your jacket.

Underfell Sans - He keeps choking you, but slower, watching you pass out with extreme pleasure. He hopes you learn your lesson. He's going to clean his arms in the toilets, asking Grillby's to throw the guy out of the bar.

Underfell Papyrus - Edge growls menacingly and says they have five seconds to clean this before he gets very pissed off. Strangely, you obey. You can tell he can break you in half if he wants to. Edge spends the rest of the night sanitizing his arm lol. Who knows what diseases you're carrying. That's disgusting.

Horrortale Sans - He bites your shoulder in return and doesn't let go. Good luck with that. His jaw can easily break it in half. You're now crying like a baby, begging for mercy.

Horrortale Papyrus - If you got Willow to fight you, it means you pushed way past his limits. It's not a little spit that's going to stop you. It just pisses him off more and he might accidentally make you fly through several trees at this point. Maybe try to talk to calm him down a little or you're not going to like what happens next.

Swapfell Sans - Did you freaking spit on his very expensive homemade suit? You're so dead. Nox drags you to his torture room. No one knows what happened to you after that. Legends said he forced you to do his laundry again and again until you died from exhaustion.

Swapfell Papyrus - He spits back on you, you spit back on him. Now you're just wasting your saliva to get to each other until one of you gives up. You both stink terribly after two hours. You two better give up to go take a shower. Ew.

Fellswap Gold Sans - "THIS IS THE MOST PATHETIC ATTACK I HAVE EVER SEEN". He then proceeds to insult your fight skills and your intelligence for the next two hours. It's too much for you, you start to cry. Wine laughs at your face.

#undertale #underswap #underfell #horrortale #swapfell #fellswap gold #sans #papyrus #undyne #undertale ask blog #undertale asks #undertale imagines #undertale headcanons

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lizzzylovee · 2 years ago

Text

Eywa’s Vision

Chapter 1: Arrival

Summary : “Born with the ability to receive visions of the future, Kani must choose to abandon what she knows to aid in Navi that she's never met.“

MDNI

Authors note: Hello! Just wanted to start off by saying that this the first thing I have ever wrote before lol. I have fallen in love with the Avatar Movies, and after binge reading I realized I wanted to attempt to do it.

Story starts off with the original characters in Home Tree, the sky people haven't returned yet, and all the characters are aged up by 5 years! I will be going more by Navi standards as best as possible. There will be mature contents, but each chapter will be labeled appropriately as possible. There will be a mix of languages, and I will try my best to be as distinctive as possible lol.

*This will most likely be more slow burn than not, I don’t want to rush the story line as much I really want to lol. Eventual smut*** If you see this on Wattpad I have also posted it there under the same tag.

WK: about 3k ish?

CW: cursing, Neteyam being in love struck awe lol, nothing really in this chapter

Chapter 1: Arrival Chapter 2: Story Time

Masterlist

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The jungle hummed with life. Through the tall treetops, light seeps through, basking the ground with a peak from the light above. Even with the peaceful feeling, it traps you into a sense of safety.

Crouching down, he looks through the foliage, eyes tracking it's movement. Taking slow breathes, he maneuvers into position, knee bent while kneeling on the ground. Bow grasped tightly in hand, sure movements notches the arrow. With one last inhale, he draws the bow, clenching his core, and with one final glance, he releases.

As the arrow soars, it meets it's final destination, straight into the eyes of the unknowing Yerik.

"Bullseye!"

With a roll of his eyes, he can't help but smirk at the praise of his companion.

"You know bro, one day you too might have a chance of being as good as me."

Spiders smile falls, only to proceed to roll his eyes, and flip off his friends back as he goes to pray over his kill.

"We both know I would kick your ass if I was Navi. Besides, why go hunting if the hunting party already left?"

Lo'ak proceeds to bind his kill, securing the feet together for easier carrying on the way back.

"Because if I show up empty handed, my parents might actually disown me."

"What did you do this time?"

Biting his lip, Lo'ak spares Spider a glance over his shoulder.

"I may or may not have forgotten to watch Tuk, leading her to paint a family portrait on the tent.."

With a baffled look, Spider could only gawk at his friend, watching as he puts the final ties to together.

"And hopefully with my peace offering, my dad might actually rethink the 'life sentence' and take me off cleaning duty."

"Fat chance, but I hope it actually goes well! Kiri's been holed up in the Tsahik tent, last thing I need is my other friend being punished to death." Spider slides down from his watching post, kicking at the grass.

"Other friend, since when did she replace my spot as the best friend?" Lo'ak looks at him, eyebrows furrowed, hand to his chest with mock hurt over his face.

"Oh shut up, let's go home." Spider rolls his eyes, glancing down at the floor, trying his best to get the heat from his face. Lo'ak can only laugh at his friends' inability to admit the truth of his feelings, even though he knows that nothing can come about it. With the raise of his hand cupping the side of his mouth, he makes the sound to call out to his Ikran.

"You know bro, maybe you should go for one of the older scientist." Lo'ak replied with barely hid mirth.

"You're fucking disgusting."

With a final laugh, Lo'ak drags his kill to his Ikran, anchoring it around onto it, giving a few tugs to test it's security.

"Come on bro, we gotta head back before dinner, I don't want to wake up dead before tomorrow."

"You do realize you can't wake up dead right?" Spider clamors on, smacking Lo'aks attempt to assist.

"You act like you've never met my mother." Swinging his body over, Lo'ak climbs on behind Spider, and after making tsaheylu, the Ikran takes off with a final screech.

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Growing up, Lo'ak always dreamed of the day of owning his own Ikran. Flying through the sky with no care of living up to expectations and having the ability to pretend to be who he wants. After his first failed attempt, which he tries his best not to think on, flying came so naturally that it allowed his mind to blank.

Flying back to Home Tree, first glances at the kill he was hauling for his family, and then to Spider to make sure he was secure, though he would never admit due to knowing how Spider would get if he felt like he couldn't keep up with the 18 year old Navi male.

With the wind hitting his face, he looks far ahead to watch for Home Tree to come into the horizon line, making the appropriate turns needed to avoid floating mountains around. Closing his eyes for a second while leaning his head back, he mentally prepares for this peace to end when he comes back home. With opening eyes, his breath catches in his throat at the sight before him.

8 Ikrans, all in a variety of colors, flies just left above them, flying in a distinct, formation. With an open mouth, Lo'ak gawks at the sight in front of him, having to make a conscious effort to close his mouth, least he wants something fly into it. With a titled head, he he squints at the sight, attempting to make sense of what he was seeing.

After carefully peering at the Ikrans, he realizes that it isn't the Ikrans that is causing his sudden heart spike and confusion, it is the way the riding Navi the Ikrans are dressed. Wraps of colorful fabric cover them, unlike the clothes adorned from his clan.

Without taking his eyes off the unfamiliar flock in his sights, he reaches for the throat comm, pressing two fingers to the button on the side.

"Devil dog, I have my sights on some Ikran riders."

"Send your traffic."

"It looks like Navi, but they aren't dressed like anything I've seen before. And they seem to be heading to Home Tree."

"Copy, do not engage. Get home as soon a possible, no interacting."

"Copy that Sir."

"I mean it boy, no fucking around."

With a roll of his eyes, Lo'ak urges his Ikran to fly faster, as the group above seem to have moved expertly through floating rocks, moving as one unit, leaving Lo'ak and his carriage behind. Having set his mind to the task, Lo'ak locks eyes on his unknown enemy, causing Spider to sputter out curses, in the attempt to hold on.

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Home Tree has always seemed to have a certain buzz to it, with all it's inhabitants busy with village life, doing what it expected to help aid the clan having a sustainable life. Excusing himself from the hunter's party, leaving his subordinates with the task of cleaning and appropriately readying the day's kill for the cooks, Neteyam seeks out his father to report the day's happenings when a sudden comotion causes the clan to become on uproar.

Attempting to make sense of what was going on, Neteyam frantically looks around, trying his hardest to find the source that started the sudden defenses.

"Outsiders!"

"They're at the check points!"

Wide eyed and erect ears, Neteyam tries in the gentlest of ways to make his way through the crowd. Knowing it was of no use to radio his father, at least with the yells from around, all he could do was make his way to the front of the crowd, knowing where the choas orginated, his father was already there to contain it.

Swinging his bow over his shoulder, he makes way through the crowd, being internally grateful that being the Olo'eyktan's first son made the clan members aware of just who was bypassing them, almost opening a way for him to make his way through the ground level of Home Tree. After passing by higher level Navi in the clan, the sea of bodies opens up to a sight that instantly puts him on guard.

8 Ikrans. 8 Ikrans that land side by side in the clearing. The animals are restless, screaming and screeching in their language, shifting around on the ground, irritated by the warriors that surround them, sharp spears and bows drawn. Warriors cry, with mother's clutching onto children that seem to be overly curious at the sight in front of them.

Keeping his eyes on the sight in front of him, with him slowly circling his way to the front, Neteyam was so focused on the unknown sight that he almost missed the sight of his baby brother hastily landing his Ikran a ways away, only to fall face first into the ground due to his uncoordinated pace of trying to get off the beast. With a minute shake of his head, he refocused on the intruders, catching the sight of his fathers back making way, with his mother only a few paces behind. Following in line with his parents, he swiftly takes his bow off, hand reaching for the arrow on his person, absently mindlessly notching the arrow, muscles tense.

With a raised hand, the clan leader calms the uproar cries of the clan, all falling silent, only for whispers to muttered, in respect of the chief's orders. With a glance to the crowd forming around, the leader makes way around the warriors, stopping in the middle of the odd dressed intruders still perched on their rides. With each step closer, the whispers die down, anticipation rising in the air, almost suffocating.

"State your business!"

With the roar only a seasoned leader possessed, it seamed as if it had gotten impossible quieter, with clan moving restless against one another, intently watching for the intruders next move.

With slow, but sure movement, the rider situated towards the middle made movement to descent off the Ikran. Moving with grace that isn't known in such a tense situation, the small form touches down. Clothed with colorful wraps around head, face, and body, with only the ability the see into the intruders eyes through the riders mask, the unknown figure makes way to the leader, in calm, sure footed steps, raising a hand to take off the riders mask.

With unblocked eyes, Jake Sully allows himself to survey the figure in front of him. Keeping mind of his mates hand on his shoulder, he notices a distinct feature on the figure, that while it may put his clan in an defensive state of mind, only cause curiosity to bloom in his chest. Instead of the normal Navi feature of only having 3 fingers, the Navi in front possess the same amount that him and two of his children have. With gears turning in his head, he comes back to present day with said figure gestures their fingertips from their forehead down, signing 'I see you'.

Straightening their back, the figure locks eyes on the clan lead, and with a voice clear in the Navi Language, "I see you, Jake Sully. I apologize for the intrusion, but there are matters that I must speak with you on."

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With a mind and body that seems on autopilot, almost as if he is having an out of body experience, Neteyam brings up the back of the group of foreigners, watching as the strange Navi follow almost single file after his dad, with a couple of them clustered together, limbs clenched together as much as the cloth around the bodies allow. Doing his best to keep a close eye, he ignores the stares and whispers of the passing clan members. Due to his height, which almost passes his father at this point, Neteyam adjust his eyes to look further, able to spot his father leading the group to the large meeting tent, mostly used to gather warriors and to hold meetings. He spots his mother walking tensely by his father, muscles tight and an aura that would let anyone know of her mood.

Walking in almost a daydream like state, a hand clamped down on his shoulder, ripping him from his inner observations. Turning to look at the offender, Neteyam could only shake his head at the sight of his younger brother.

"Bro what the fuck is going on?!" Lo'ak tried as best as possible to keep his volume under control, he did, but when one of the foreigners ears swiveled their way, Neteyam was aware that their conversation was not a quiet as his brother believed, regardless with it being in English.

"You know as much as I do, and still you ask this question? Learn to watch before you speak and you will understand much sooner baby brother." Neteyam hissed back, only giving a spare glance at the human that tried his best to keep up with the longer legged Navi.

Slipping his hand off his brother's shoulder, Lo'ak resigned himself to walk behind Neteyam, knowing that while he may sound rude, he was right in the lack of knowledge.

Coming up on the Warrior's tent, the flap was opened, with his father gesturing the inside. A fire was lit in the middle, casting a more ominous glow. Looking around, Neteyam noticed a handful of his fathers warriors inside, weapons drawn tight in their hands, outline the edge of the tent, barely noticing the glare his father sent to his brother, with the promise of punishment if he acted out of turn. The flap was then closed, closing off the rest of the village, leaving his parents, Lo'ak, and warriors surrounding them, as the foreigners huddled together, kneeling down on the ground, with what it seemed to have their legs tucked under their body.

The one that had spoke with his father prior sat on the front, the rest nestled behind, all stilled wrapped in clothes, with a few holding tight as if the wrap was a form of protection, instead of privacy. With his father turning to look at the group, absentmindedly paying attention to his mother pacing with agitation behind, he takes a last glance and addresses the group.

"Who are you, and where are you from?" Jake spoke in Navi, voice unwavering despite the tension around. After a passing second from the group, the figure in front makes the move to first remove the wrap around their head, causing the cloth from her nose down to fall, revealing their face. Neteyam's eyes widen, not realizing that the cause of so much commotion in his clan, was actually the most stunning woman he has ever seen. Roaming his eyes, he took in every feature.

She had long dark hair, way longer than the women in his clan kept theirs, with half her hair up, secured by what seemed to be a tie with crystals on it. Looking through the hair that framed her face, he took in her facial features, noticing bright eyes rimmed with black, down to her nose, with a half crescent object hanging from her nose. Her ears were pierced in a similar fashion to his mothers, with feathers looped through and hanging through them. Her neck was adorned with a neck piece, though it was not in a similar fashion found in his clan. It was adorned with crystals, their reflections bouncing from the light caused by the flickering fire in front. His eyes caught the hair above her eyes, similar in the way he has seen on his dad, brother or sisters face. High cheekbones framed and shaped her face, leading to a relaxed facial expression, as if she was unaffected by today's turn of events.

While lost in his thoughts, he was seemingly broken out of his spell when she opened her mouth.

"While I understand the reason for warriors to be present, I do believe this conversation would be best handled with as much privacy as possible."

Everyone in the room froze.

Not for the words actually spoken, but for the language she replied in.

"How the fuck does she know English?"

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Well there’s part one! Hopefully you guys like it! I will try my best to attempt to keep everything organized, but Imma be honest, idk how to tf to put stuff together when it comes to links lol. Once again, there will be eventual smut, just gotta set the mood lmfao. Thank you so everyone that took the time to read! Also if you ever curious about the OC characters and how the family dynamics works, hopefully this guide helps lol.

***Kani***

Youngest Daughter

Kekunan Clan

***Heatey***

Oldest brother

Mate: Tal'i (22)

Kekunan Clan

***Naya'il***

Older sister

Mate: Tsuten (21)

Kekunan Clan

***Zernem***

Youngest brother

Kekunan Clan

***Mai***

Best friend

Kekunan Clan

***Zute***

Mai's younger brother

Kekunan Clan

_____Other Characters____

Neteyam- 19

Lo'ak-18

Kiri-18

Tuk-13

Hopefully that answers everything!

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