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pretty-little-mind33 · 2 days ago

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Sergei Kravinoff x mutant fem!reader

Summary: Sergei is captured and his only source of salvation and light is the young woman who visits him every day to bring him food and heal his wounds.

Genre: hurt and comfort <3

Warnings: reader has healing abilities, kidnapping, torture, blood, violence, drugging, shitty men, protective!Sergei

~ thank you 💜anon for this idea! i didn't make it smut but i hope you like it anyways ~

SERGEI KRAVINOFF MASTERLIST

The Hunter. They'd captured The Hunter by.

That was all you knew from the hushed whispers as they guarded your door. His name caused excitement around the compound and your curiosity was piqued. You stand from your small cot, limping over as the blood from your leg spills from the bandages. You press your palm against your door, catching snippets of the conversation in Russian, as you hold your breath.

When you hear the latch to your door snap, you stumble back. The man with the scar enters, a smirk on his face. "Ah, you're up. Good. We have a new guest. You know what to do," he walks over and caresses your cheek, causing you to flinch, and he glances down at your leg. "And don't let him get close to you, not like the last one. Understand, pet? Cleaning you up was a fuckin' mess."

You nod, earning you a light tap on your cheek as he gestures for his men to come in with a tray of food.

The Hunter's cell is grim and dark, the drip of water from the ceiling is heard in the corner. Your eyes widen when you see him. He's suspended from his arms, rusty chains digging into his skin. He's shirtless, scratches and gashes of various stages litter his back and shoulders. He's breathing deeply as you walk in. He turns his head a little, catching your eyes and he lets out a sharp laugh, spitting out more blood.

"Is this some kind of joke?" He coughs up more blood, seeing the food on the tray. You circle to the front, resting the tray on the ground as you look up at him again. "They send you in to do the dirty work, принцесса (princess)?"

You don't answer him, instead glancing at the security of the chains holding him. They're strong. Unbreakable you would guess and you look into his eyes again. You tear some of the bread and stand up, walking closer. Unlike many other prisoners, this one doesn't immediately lunge for you. He seems to be keeping his strength, simply observing your movements. You hold out the bread for him to bite out of your hand, but he spits blood at your shoes instead.

"I don't need your food," he growls and tugs on the chains, turning his torso as he hisses in pain. You see a large gash on his side and your expression softens. You're here to heal him, at least so he doesn't die until he gives them the information they want.

"I can help," you whisper, walking forward and reaching your hand to touch his side. The man inhales, readying himself to push you down—to do anything. He doesn't trust you. However, that plan falls through when he sees a glimpse of the bruising on your cheek. Someone has already hit you. He falters and then he gasps when your cold hand presses against the wound.

"Shh," you soothe, bracing yourself, "this will only hurt for a moment. I promise."

"What are you—"

He grunts, feeling something sting and turns his head as best he can, twisting his torso. You pull your hand away, revealing the mostly healed wound. It's still badly bruised and you explain; "I can't heal the bruising. I c-can only help the process."

You sound scared of him and he looks back over to you, eyes dark. You just healed him. He looks at your hand and he sees that they're shaking. His eyebrows scrunch as he examines you. You're breathing heavily, looking exhausted.

It drained you.

Suddenly, there is a loud bang on the door, and a man's voice booms into the room and orders you back out in Russian. You catch your breath, holding out the bread for the man to take. You still want him to eat at least a little. Once he reluctantly eats the bread from your hand, you grab the tray and hurry out the door.

The man hears the shout and he grimaces, pulling on his chains again. The wound doesn't hurt as much and his head is reeling from what had just happened.

Who were you?

* * *

The next time Sergei sees you, he's chained to the wall, blood trickling down the side of his head. He hears the door enter and he smells you instantly. You smell sweet, not like the men who come in who stink of death and sweat. He turns his head, cracking a smile, as blood drips from his mouth. You set the tray down, kneeling in front of him on the dirty ground. Sergei's smile drops when he sees more bruising around your cheeks. They're hurting you too. His blood boils and he tries to fight against the chains once more, his body weak.

He watches you silently as you take a syringe from the tray. Your hand is trembling and you look up at him. He knows what the liquid is, usually the men administer it when they torture him. It weakens him, making it impossible for him to break the chains that hold him in place. He growls like a hurt animal and you rest your hand on his arm.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, testing the syringe as the green liquid pours out and drips onto the ground. "They think you'll put up less of a fight if it's me—"

Sergei narrows his eyes, the gold irises flickering underneath the surface, and he snarls; "Don't do this," he says but you gently push his head to the side, your hand on his forehead as you sink the needle into his neck. He grunts. No wonder the men are asking you to do this; it's dangerous for you. He could easily turn his head and bite you in this position. Usually, they prick him in the leg or somewhere safe that still works, but not as well as it could. They're becoming impatient it seems and they're now willing to turn you into a pawn. Perhaps, that's the reason he doesn't hurt you. He knows what that's like.

"I'm really sorry," you sob, holding his head as your hand trembles even more. Once the liquid is gone, you pull away. He looks calmer now, the drug already working. You drop the syringe and break some more bread. "Please eat," you whisper, pressing the stale bread to his lips, as if trying to counteract the drug by feeding him.

He opens his eyes, reluctantly listening to you as he eats a bite. "They're hurting you too," he says and you shift uncomfortably, avoiding his intense glare. "Why? And why can't you heal yourself?" He'd noticed your limp the moment you walked and smelled the blood from your knee, even underneath your pants. You're injured.

You sit back, touching the bruising along your eye, and look up at him. "You aren't the only prisoner they give that horrid liquid to," you whisper, looking at the syringe and then tilting your head and showing him the needle mark on your neck. "They like m-my ability, but only in moderation—"

Sergei groans, his chest burning with anger. He shakes his head when he sees you begin to clean up. "Who? Who are they?! Who has me!? I can help you—if you—wait—stop—" he watches you walk out helplessly. He groans again from the pain in his side as he shifts his position. Sergei realizes you haven't healed him today. He supposes that would go against the point of the fucking drug.

Hours later, when he finally falls asleep, all he dreams of is you.

* * *

"What is your name?" Sergei asks one evening as you run a warm cloth on his face, wiping away the dried blood from the beating he'd received. He hasn't cracked yet, not that he will. You startle a little, not expecting him to ask you that question. You glance up, meeting his gaze, and you whisper your name.

"Kraven," he introduces. He wants to tell you his real name, but he doesn't know if he can fully trust you. Sergei winces when you swipe your hand across a cut on his cheek, healing the small wound. He pulls against the chains keeping his arms up. He groans, realizing it's useless. "How long have you been here, Y/n?"

You move to rub the cloth on his bare torso, going even quieter. "A year."

"Do you have a family?"

You shrug, turning away and preparing that damned drug again. The men have given up administering it and have charged you with that task instead. Sergei grimaces and when you look up, your hand gently turning his head like it always does, he doesn't fight you. Instead, he whispers, "Y/n, don't give it to me. I can get us both out of here. I won't hurt you. I promise." He's not entirely sure how long he's been here but he's desperate now. He locks eyes with you, almost pleasing.

You wrap your arm around his nape, shifting and your voice shakes when you whisper, "They're watching. There is a camera— it can't hear us but it can see us."

Sergei winces, feeling you prepare the syringe; however, he pauses when he looks to the side and sees that the needle is near the bare skin of your arm, the one covering his nape. "They make sure it's g-gone, this is the only way. Will your powers regenerate in one night?"

Sergei nods, his blue eyes are wide and he's a little alarmed when you administer the drug to yourself.

"They're watching us. Please, you have to pretend I gave it to you if you want this to work."

"Will the drug hurt you?" he asks, knowing you're purposefully hiding what you're doing to the camera in the corner of the ceiling.

You shake your head, pulling away and hiding the mark on your arm with your sleeve. "No– I just won't be able to use my powers for a while. It's okay. That's all it does. That's what it's been doing to you—weakening you." You gather your supplies with shaking hands as Sergei breathes heavily, keeping his body calm as you said.

"I won't let them hurt you again," Sergei promises before you leave. You turn around to look at him, your eyes sad, as he whispers, "I'll find you, принцесса (princess)."

* * *

"Wake up, Hunter." Sergei hears a loud bang as a metal pipe slams against the wall near his head. His eyes shoot open, his body not feeling as weak anymore and his gaze locks onto the two men who've been torturing him these past days. His eyes narrow and his hand twitches in the chains but his heart leaps when one of the men, the one with the scar on his lip, pulls you from behind the other man, his hand in your hair. "We have some exciting news," the man sings-songs and adds, "since ya seem so fond of each other."

Sergei's eyes frantically bounce from your scared expression to the men holding you, his jaw clenching.

"Since you don't quite break when we break you, we must change our method, you understand," the other man laughs, unsheathing a knife and running it in your hair. You squeeze your eyes shut, controlling your breathing. "Now, if you continue not to give us anything, we'll just have to break your little girlfriend instead. And," the man laughs, "we promise with the damage we'll cause she won't have time to heal herself—"

Sergei's eyes narrow. The men are too busy laughing at the tears that fall from your eyes to notice the glimmer of gold behind his irises—but you do. You hold your breath, unsure what's about to happen but you know it can't be good considering that the drug you'd been giving him for the past week had faded so quickly. Sergei licks his lips, his sharp fangs showing for a second before he lunges for the men, the chains previously holding him easily ripping.

You gasp, falling to the ground as you grasp the floor, scooting to the opposite side of the room, pressing your back to the wall as you watch as Kraven tears into one of the men's throats, growling like an animal would. You scream, covering your eyes with shaky hands as gunshots ring out and you hear more growls and ripping.

Once the scream stops, you feel someone's presence over you. You peek through your fingers, your gaze stuck on the splatter of blood across his features. His eyes have returned to their normal blue and he crouches down, like an animal showing its submission as his knuckles skim your cheeks and wipe away your tears.

"Are you okay?" He mutters, his voice hoarse. You nod hesitantly and when he scoops his hand under your knees and your back, you accept and wrap your arms around his neck.

"I'm here," he whispers.

Your hands tremble and you nod, finding your voice as you squeeze your eyes shut again so you don't see the lifeless bodies he'd left in his wake as he walks to the exit. However, you can't bring yourself to feel pity; those men had tortured him. And they'd tortured you for even longer. "Thank you, Kraven," you say quietly and he holds you tighter.

"Sergei," he says, "My name is Sergei."

You hum, resting your eyes as your head falls onto his chest. When you open your eyes again, you're in a truck. Sergei is on the phone, talking in Russian, and you understand snippets of his conversation. You're buckled in, your head resting on the passenger window as the headlights from the other cars blind you. You groan, your head is pounding. "You slept for hours, is that normal, принцесса (princess)?" Sergei asks, putting his phone in his pocket as he continues to drive.

"Where are we?"

"Russia," Sergei says and he looks at you with a worried expression, "We've always been in Russia—did you not know where they were holding you?" You shake your head, a little embarrassed. You really didn't know. Sergei clicks his tongue and runs a hand over his face. He's cleaned himself up, the blood is gone and he looks in much better form. He senses you staring and he looks over, "I made some calls. My brother—he has connections," he tells you, explaining the truck.

"Where are you taking me?" you ask quietly.

Sergei's eyes narrow. "My home," he pauses, "just so you can rest, I'm not sure how long that drug will last on you, but once you're better, I can take you home."

"Home," you whisper and look down at your lap, picking at your nails. "I have no home."

Sergei is quiet as he looks at the road again. "Well, you can stay with me then. I'll take care of you."

Silence looms over you as the truck rolls along icy roads, the hum of the engine filling the air. You glance at Sergei again, your gaze softening. He looks different now—calmer, more composed, less weak and frazzled. His knuckles are no longer bloodied, his breaths even now, and yet, there is something simmering underneath, like a fire that hasn't quite burned out.

"You really don't have to do that," you tell him, staring out the window. "You have already done enough."

He just chuckles, low and rough. "Enough? I went through hell, принцесса (princess), I'm not stopping now." He glances at you, his eyes sharp as they lock onto yours and his voice almost wavers when he says. "You saved me first. I owe you."

You press your lips together, unsure how to respond. He sounds so serious, as if nothing you say would sway him. You decide not to speak. Your body is heavy with exhaustion, the aftermath of the drug still dulling your senses. You sigh and shut your eyes, leaning your head against the window again as the lights from outside lull you asleep.

Once the truck finally stops, you wake to the sound of Sergei opening your door. Snow crunches under his boots as he reaches in and effortlessly lifts you into his arms again, ignoring your half-hearted protests.

"Stop fussing, will you," he mutters, his voice softer now. "You're still weak."

The large house he carries you into is cool, the scent of pine and something faintly sweet greeting you. It's a small but comfortable cabin, filled with old family trinkets and photos of a family of four; two young boys sitting on their mother's knee.

Sergei wordlessly sets you down on a couch, draping a blanket over your shoulders before crouching and starting a well-needed fire. Once the flames crackle, he turns and his hands hover over your knees, uncertain, as if he's not surewhere to begin.

Finally, he lifts his arms and brushes some hair back from your face, his touch surprisingly gentle. "Rest," he commands. His tone is calm and serious but the corners of his mouth twitch upward as if he's hiding a small smile. "I will make us food."

You still don't say a word as you watch him retreat to the kitchen, the tension in your chest easing for the first time in a long while. The danger is gone, replaced with a warmth you haven't felt. You glance around the room and you realize that for the first time in a long long time, you feel completely safe.

You smile softly, watching the fire burn and listening to Sergei walk around the kitchen.

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naughtyjjk · 2 days ago

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just a massage (pt. 3)

characters: nanami x fem reader warnings: 18+, smut, massage, teasing, sexual tension, dirty talk, grinding, fingering, edging, creampie notes: this is the final part of the massage series! thank you everyone for your patience with me and i hope it's worth the wait. you can read part 1 and part 2 as well!

you watch with great satisfaction as nanami takes in the sight of you. it’s almost comical how he’s stunned to silence, and you feel your confidence surging as you stand there in front of him.

if anyone happens to open the door right now, you’re sure that you’d be accused of public indecency, given what you’re wearing. you’d no doubt be banned from the massage parlor forever. but you’ve gotten more daring with each session that you attend—more daring, and more sexually frustrated with how nanami insists on continuously teasing you. so, you figure that it’s about time to take matters into your own hands.

“you—” nanami swallows. his voice is strained, and he seems to struggle with deciding on what to say. “you’re… supposed to take off all your clothes before we start.”

smirking, you feign innocence. of course you know by now. it’s far from the first time you’ve been here, after all.

“well…” you drawl, “i was hoping you could help me undress.”

you’re wearing the most scandalous clothing pieces you own today, a matching lingerie set, and there’s no way that you were going to let nanawi start the massage before showing it off. the outer layer, which has already been discarded, consists of your usual work attire. from the perspective of the general public, it’d be impossible to guess that you have something like this hidden underneath.

“fuck,” you hear nanami mutter as he closes the distance between you. he reaches out, slightly hesitant, running his hands over the strap of your bra, tracing it down to where it cups your breasts. the fabric is thin, practically see-through, your nipples visibly hard.

for a moment, he’s entirely captivated by your breasts and the way your bra emphasizes your curves. his fingers slide along the exposed skin, up and down the sides, dipping into the valley between your breasts and continuing further past your stomach. his touch is electrifying. every inch of your body that he explores makes you shiver and when he finally reaches your panties, he follows the thin strap of it along your pelvic bone. stopping right before he brushes a hand against your pussy.

“did you have this under your clothes all day?” nanami asks, arousal evident in his voice, in the way he’s devouring you with his eyes. he’s hard in his pants, so obviously turned on by your lingerie, and he doesn’t even bother to hide it. not that he could even if he wanted to—the bulge between his legs is unmistakable.

you nod and look at him suggestively. “mm, and i was thinking of you the whole time,” you say. “want to see the back?”

you don’t wait for nanami to answer, turning around to show off your outfit—or lack of, because what you’re wearing is effectively a thong, with a single strap that goes down the middle of your ass and just barely manages to cover your pussy. everything else is fully on display, the thin fabric complimenting your body perfectly, making you an irresistible sight. taking it a step further, you bend forward, shaking your ass a bit so that nanami can really see what you have to offer.

it’s clearly working because nanami sucks in a sharp breath. “god…” he seems to be fighting his desires, holding himself back, but eventually reaches out with both hands to slide them down the plane of your back, past your hips, until they’re pressed against your ass, squeezing. then, nanami retreats and clears his throat. “is this something that you wear… often?”

turning back to look at him, you say, “not anymore. it’s been a while.” you lick your lips. “i only put them on for special occasions.”

and with that, your gaze drops to the tent between nanami’s legs, satisfied at the fact that you’ve managed to make him so hard already. leaning back, you press your ass right on his growing erection and grind against it filthily.

immediately, nanami curses, taken by surprise. “fuck, you’re—okay, okay. that’s enough. let’s get you out of these.”

straightening, you mentally congratulate yourself for being able to have such an effect on him simply by wearing a few pieces of suggestive clothing and showing some skin. of course, if he hadn’t pushed you to this point, you would’ve never thought to do this. it almost makes you grateful for all the teasing during your previous sessions. almost.

for a long while, nanami doesn’t speak as he admires your body using both his sense of sight and touch. the silence only makes the tension between you more palpable. you didn’t think you could get more aroused just from the process of removing your clothes, but nanami once again proves you wrong.

a single finger trails down your back, along your spine, and you shudder, embarrassingly close to letting out a moan. your breath comes out shaky, nerves tingling. the delicate touch, the feeling of nanami’s hand on your skin, the sensuality of it all—it’s almost too much for you to handle. but you’re even less prepared for when nanami steps forward and hugs you from behind, both hands slipping under your bra easily and sliding up to squeeze your breasts.

he pushes them together, then apart, rubbing them in circles. he plays with your nipples expertly, knowing exactly what you like by now. grasping the hardened nubs between two fingers, nanami pinches and twists, rolls his palms over them, and earns a soft groan from you in response.

“you have no idea how erotic you look in this,” nanami whispers in your ear, and you could melt right there. his hands roam over your chest and stomach, back and forth, like he can’t get enough. “so fucking hot. so sexy. all for me.”

“k-kento,” you start, but you don’t know exactly what you’re asking for. it’s suddenly too warm in this room, your body heating up from nanami’s proximity.

“lift your arms a bit,” nanami tells you as he undoes the hook and slides your bra off your shoulders, discarding it on the ground. with your top fully exposed now, nanami deliberately avoids touching you and turns his attention to your pussy.

you feel yourself getting wetter once his gaze is fixated on your panties, and again when he traces along the strap of your thong that circles around your hips. it doesn’t go unnoticed how you try to squeeze your thighs together. hooking a finger under the strap on both sides, nanami pulls it down slowly and watches as your pussy is finally exposed.

nanami makes an appreciative sound at the back of his throat, but still, he doesn’t touch you anymore. “you planned this, didn’t you? got all dressed up to seduce me as soon as you walked in…”

you can’t deny it, so you only stand there while nanami drinks in the sight of your fully naked body. there’s hunger in the way he looks at you. there’s lust and desire, too. it feels like he’s spent so long on this—the foreplay, the slow unraveling of your body—but he’s hardly even done anything yet. it leaves you fucking horny, unbearably so, and your dripping pussy is proof of that.

“if you wanted to get me all hot and bothered, i’ll admit that it worked. i’m beyond turned on right now,” nanami says. “but i won’t give you what you want so easily just because you showed up in some lingerie.”

“why not?” you meant for it to sound like a challenge, but it comes out more as a whine, almost pouting as you try to hide your disappointment. “i’m already offering my body to you. don’t you want to take me right here?”

“oh, i will,” nanami says, a promise. his gaze darkens, clearly more affected by all this than he’s willing to admit. “but you booked for a massage, and i’m still a professional. so, get on the bed. now.”

the demanding tone and the way he’s visibly holding himself back makes your pussy throb. you go to lie down as instructed and watch as nanami hovers over you, hands finally returning to caress your body. they move down your sides, tickling your ribs. tracing the v-line of your crotch, starting at both sides of the hips and moving closer together, down toward your pussy.

you struggle to refrain from squirming on the spot, waiting in anticipation of a touch that never comes. “kento, please,” you say. “i’ve been wet for hours thinking about you…”

“god.” nanami swallows. “i can’t get over the fact that anyone could’ve seen how naughty you are. is that something you’re into? did it turn you on walking around like this all day?”

“maybe. would it bother you if someone else noticed before i got here?” you grin, mischievous. “i might’ve even let them fuck me, too, if i was horny enough.”

eyes narrowing, nanami exhales. “how about you show me what that dirty mouth of yours can do instead of trying to make me jealous. come on, we both know you want my cock more than anything. it never takes long for you to start begging for it.”

nanami stands himself next to you. with how the bed is raised, in this position, his erection is right there by your face; if you move even a little bit, you’ll be able to make contact with it. and to your surprise, nanami uses a hand to guide your head in his direction, until you’re pressed right up against the straining tent of his cock.

in this situation, there’s only one thing for you to do: you more than willingly mouth at his cock over the fabric, outlining the bulge with your lips, hot breath traveling up and down the shaft. he moans when you open your mouth, taking in the tip as if to swallow him down, licking all over. you wish that you could remove the barrier, actually see and taste the hardening cock in front of you.

something must snap inside nanami because not a minute later, he’s shoving down his pants and pulling out his cock from the restraints. it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him fully exposed like this, and it’s glorious, instantly reigniting your arousal. he’s only half hard, but his cock is long, and thick, and you’re already imagining what it would look like when it’s curved up toward his abdomen, flushed and glistening with precum.

“this is going inside you later,” nanami says, more of a declaration, a fact, than anything else. he holds his cock so that the tip of it is angled toward your mouth, just close enough to brush against your lips. “be a good girl now and make it nice and hard for me.”

eager, you immediately get to work. you start off by licking his cock, flattening your tongue and sliding up the length of his shaft, swirling around the tip. the taste of precum spurs you on and you trace along the bulging vein on the underside again and again, until nanami has become noticeably more breathless. a low, filthy moan is drawn out of him when you flick your tongue just beneath the cockhead, knowing how sensitive it is there. in turn, your pussy aches, begging for some attention.

but what turns you on the most is swallowing down nanami’s full erection and physically feeling him grow harder in your mouth. the minute you begin to move, bobbing your head and sucking him off with determination, he voices his appreciation in low, strained grunts.

“fuck, yeah, just like that.” he’s panting, struggling to hold himself back from thrusting into your mouth. “oh—oh fuck—you can’t get enough of my cock, can you? look at how well you’re taking it.”

that makes you moan because it’s true. you both know that you’ve wanted nanami’s cock since your very first massage session. you continue to suck him off until you can’t anymore and have to pull away for a moment, but not before giving him a final lick, leaving his cock standing tall in the space between you, spilling precum down the shaft.

“hah—you’re really tempting me today,” nanami says. his gaze flickers down to your breasts, you pussy. “you’re getting off on this too, aren’t you?”

grinning, you lick your lips, still tasting him on your tongue. “can you blame me when i know what’s going to happen next?”

nanami’s eyes darken. “getting cocky, aren’t you? we can’t have that.” he steps away for a second and you almost call after him, but you still have some sense of dignity remaining. nanami returns a while later with a new towel in his hands and places it over your eyes, effectively blindfolding you. leaning in, he licks the shell of your ear and whispers, “don’t forget who’s in charge here.”

shuddering, you have to stifle a moan. the world has turned dark with the towel blocking your eyes and you can hear nanami shuffling beside you, but there’s no way for you to figure out exactly what he’s doing. a part of you knows that you could easily remove the towel if you wanted to—though, if you’re being honest, you have to admit that you find this new predicament fucking hot. you can’t see, you don’t know what nanami will do next or where he will touch. you’re completely at his mercy.

“this is turning you on, isn’t it? naughty girl.” nanami pours oil all over you and spreads it out evenly. he then rubs his hands along your thighs and already, you can feel yourself getting wetter as he spreads your legs apart. “fuck, you should see the state you’re in right now. pussy begging for my attention…”

you whine. “touch me… come on, kento. i wanna—wanna feel you—”

“mm, of course you do,” nanami murmurs but he continues focusing on your thighs and only your thighs. “have some patience, darling. let me take care of you.”

as he says that, the surface beneath you dips, an additional weight added like nanami has climbed on the bed with you. this suspicion is confirmed when you hear his voice next to your ear, “you can’t see me right now, but i want you to imagine that i’m on top of you, my hips hovering just above yours.”

“fuck.” your pussy throbs with desire, and the two of you are so close that you can feel nanami’s cock brushing against your skin when it twitches. it takes all of your willpower to resist bucking up, searching for more of that delicious friction.

both hands reaching down to cup your breasts, massaging them, nanami says, “your nipples are so hard.” squeezing, he fondles them appreciatively, flicking them and making you gasp. “that’s it, let yourself feel good.”

you moan at that. it’s euphoric when nanami finally lines your hips up together and grinds down, an instant rush of arousal concentrated on your pussy. it feels so fucking good. the pleasure continues as he slides his cock back and forth, effectively rutting against you, humping you on the bed with slow, deliberate rolls of his hips. in response, you lift your hips instinctively, no longer in control of your actions as your mind turns into a haze.

but when you do this, every time, nanami always makes sure to pull away so that he’s just out of reach. you figure out the pattern fairly quickly, but you can’t help yourself, thrusting up involuntarily despite knowing that you won’t find any relief. you whimper, wanting more. but nanami is determined to go at his own pace, and it only serves to make you increasingly frustrated.

“just look at you,” nanami says, hips digging into yours, cock pressed against your pussy. meanwhile, his mouth is by your ear and trailing down your neck. “you’re so fucking wet already.”

there’s no hiding just how turned on he you are, not when your legs are spread wide open for nanami to see. you want him inside already. “kento, please…”

nanami shifts a little and positions himself so that his cock rubs against your clit every time he grinds on your pussy, making you curse and cry out at the sudden spike in pleasure. your wetness, mixed with his leaking precum, makes the slide feel that much better.

all of a sudden, nanami grunts, and that’s the only warning you get before the pace picks up, rocking his hips twice as fast. It’s like the last of his self-control has snapped. you’re thrown off guard and the increased stimulation is overwhelming, making you squirm on the spot, back arching. “k-kento—! shit, that’s—yes, yes, keep going—hng—oh fuck, i’m—”

“you’re getting close, aren’t you?” nanami asks. even though you still can’t see him, you can feel the weight of his stare, watching your body closely for any signs that you’ll tip over the edge. it’s like he’s somehow able to read you perfectly even though this is only the first time you’ve properly fucked. “how are you feeling? think you’ll come soon?”

“h-hah—fuck—feels good, feels so good—” you moan brokenly, losing yourself in the sensations. “c-close—I’m close—”

“i know.” nanami is equally breathless, even if he tries not to show it. “you have two options: i could make you come now and give you the release you want right here, or…” he purposely grinds hard against you and you have no doubt that he could follow through on his words, “if you can hold it, i’ll put my cock in you and fuck you hard like the naughty little girl you are.”

shuddering, you don’t even have to think, not with the way you’re throbbing between your legs. you’ve only wanted one thing ever since he saw nanami at your first massage session. “y-your cock—ah, please—want your cock—”

nanami smirks. “yeah? think you can hold back from coming, then?”

“i-i can,” you say, even though you let out a groan immediately after. It’s a gamble, really; you don’t know how much your body can take, but there’s nothing you want more than to have his cock inside you.

“that’s what i like to hear,” nanami praises. “you better not come yet.”

moaning, your entire body is tense from struggling not to let yourself feel too good. the problem is that nanami doesn’t stop; he continues grinding on you, maintaining the brutal speed that has you throwing back your head, trembling with every thrust.

the delicious slide of his cock has you coming undone, and your pussy, your clit, throbs in warning of your release that seems inevitable now. it’s bad because nanami is throbbing too, both of you pulsing against each other, which only makes you more turned on, every instinct in your body telling you to give in.

“no, no—k-kento, stop—ah—hah—fuck, i can’t—i don’t wanna come yet—”

you don’t expect nanami to pull away entirely. it’s frustrating and a relief all at once. the loss of stimulation is abrupt, and you body doesn’t fully manage to catch up until a second later, a wave of heat rushing through you, chest heaving, pussy aching to be touched again. you know that nanami must be getting off on this, sitting back in cruel satisfaction to watch you desperately try to fight off your orgasm.

you arch off the bed, still bucking your hips forward a few times. you just can’t help it. your pussy is dripping with your desire, helplessly horny and so damn turned on. fuck. the denial of your orgasm burns through you, even though it’s exactly what you asked for.

“yeah, that’s it. ride the edge for me. such a good girl,” nanami murmurs, tracing a finger gently along your opening—the opening where his fingers could penetrate you, where his cock could penetrate you. the unexpected contact makes you gasp now that you’re more sensitive than ever. “you like being denied, don’t you? you like being told when you’re allowed to come.”

you moan weakly in confirmation. you don’t want to admit it—that you like the torture, the cruel denial, the drawn-out pleasure that makes you break down. you like being kept on the edge, so close but forbidden from coming. being completely at nanami’s mercy. you want to prove that you can be good, even if your body begs and pleads for release, so that you can eventually earn the reward of his thick, hard cock.

“open your eyes. look at how filthy you are.” nanami reaches over to remove the towel covering your eyes. “look at the mess you’ve made.”

blinking, you adjust to the brightness of the room and glance down as you’re told, seeing yourself for the first time in a while. nanami is right; it’s an absolutely filthy sight, and you would be embarrassed if you weren’t so fucking turned on, judgement clouded by lust.

between your legs, your pussy is swollen and aching, the bed soaked with your arousal. nanami, with his cock absolutely rigid, standing tall and curving up to his abdomen, kneels before you. he’s flushed a dark, hungry red. the veins bulge out along the shaft of his cock, still throbbing and twitching occasionally. His cock weeps, precum glistens down his entire length. his balls are heavy and full and he seems like he’s at his limit, like he’s going to burst with a single touch.

god, you think, this might just be the hottest sight you’ve ever seen. nanami runs a hand through his hair, loose strands falling in front of his face, and his toned muscles shift with the movement, arms flexing. he looks at you like he wants you, like he’s barely managing to hold himself back. he’s not nearly as composed as he pretends to be, considering the fact that his other hand has been stroking himself this whole time.

you watch, mesmerized for a moment, as that hard cock disappears and reappears in his fist. nanami moans, head falling back as he circles around the tip. his breath stutters. then, he looks at you, eyes filled with pure lust and desire. “still want my cock?”

you swallow, mouth dry. “please.”

letting go of himself, nanami licks his lips. “turn around, then. get on your knees.” when you instantly obey, he hums, satisfied. “now raise your ass—yeah, that’s it, show me that pretty pussy of yours.”

a finger reaches out to trace the outer area of your opening and nanami pours more oil, using it to ease his finger inside. he pumps the digit back and forth, slowly at first to allow you to adjust to the sensation. but all you’re thinking about is his cock replacing his finger, his cock stretching you wide, reaching far deeper than—

you gasp when a second finger enters without warning. choking out a moan, you feel yourself loosening to accommodate the extra width, hips beginning to push back and move on their own.

“let’s see,” nanami murmurs. “if i remember, your spot was somewhere here…”

the next few thrusts are done in search of your g-spot, aimed at different angles to draw out that particular reaction nanami is looking for. at some point, you feel a brush against the sensitive nerves, not quite hitting it directly, but it’s enough to make you whine. if you turned around at that moment, you’re sure that nanami would be smiling wickedly.

“found it,” he whispers, a hot breath right by your ear.

you shudder from those words alone. then, you feel his fingers curling just slightly, pressing into that area with the perfect amount of pressure, and your entire body jolts. the pleasure is blinding, so intense that it leaves you trembling in the aftershocks. your mind goes blank, and you can’t stop the moans and whimpers that escape you. “hah—hah—oh my god—f-fuck—please, there—there—”

your pussy throbs, squeezing around nanami’s fingers with every single thrust that follows. as soon as the familiar buildup to your orgasm starts to accumulate, nanami suddenly decides to pull out.

whimpering, your thighs tremble; your body is on fire. you don’t know how to tame the arousal that sears through you or how to handle being this fucking turned on. you just want to be filled again, want to be fucked hard enough that it makes you scream.

“i think you’re ready for me now,” nanami says, and you almost sob in relief. he rubs the head of his cock against your entrance, almost pushing in, before retreating completely. “but first, i want you shaking and begging for this to be inside you.”

nanami lets his cock slide between your thighs, practically fucking you there, brushing against your desperate pussy with every thrust. it’s deliberate, the way he applies pressure, tormenting you with his cock. never giving you what you want. and you can’t take it anymore; you can’t.

“fuck—a-ah—fuck, kento—stop teasing already—” you whine as nanami taunts you with only the tip, not allowing you nearly enough stimulation to get off. it leaves you frustrated, so fucking aroused and riled up beyond return. you’ve been reduced to an embarrassing state, moaning over and over, feeling his cockhead stretching you open only to withdraw, until—

“ah—oops,” he says far too innocently as he plunges the full length of his hard, throbbing cock inside you without any warning. as quickly as it goes in, he pulls out all the way, leaving you desperately empty again before you’re even able to process what happened. “my apologies. it slipped in by accident.”

you cry out, panting, nails digging into the bed. a low, guttural moan spills from your lips and you sound so wrecked, so broken, that you hardly even recognize your own voice. you body is burning and your pussy clenches around nothing. there’s only one thing on your mind, hazy and clouded with lust, pure arousal coursing through your veins: he want nanami inside you, want nanami to fuck you so badly—hard and fast and deep enough that you feel it for days after. you want to fucking come on nanami’s cock.

but nanami has gone back to rubbing the head of his cock by your entrance, denying you of anything more. occasionally, he’ll put in just the tip, just enough to give you a taste of what you could be getting, before leaving you empty once more, whimpering helplessly on the bed.

you’re not expecting it when it happens again—nanami slipping inside you all the way, completely unannounced. this time, you both moan when he bottoms out, balls slapping against your ass. he stays there for a few seconds, circling his hips, cock twitching and throbbing as it hits your inner walls at every angle. as soon as you start to feel good, clamping down around him, he pulls out again, cruelly.

“ngh—p-please, kento—your cock—want your cock—” you beg, and your pussy is so wet for him. so horny for him. “fuck me—fuck me already—please—”

“sh-shit—” nanami’s voice is the only thing that gives away just how much he wants it, too. finally, god finally, he penetrates you, stretching open your pussy and pushing in. inch… by inch… by inch. achingly slow. still managing to tease you on purpose, without mercy, testing your limits in self-control.

you moan loud when nanami buries himself deep, feeling the entire length of his thick cock inside you. he stays there like that for a while, hips moving so minutely that you sometimes think you imagined it. but it’s always just enough for you to feel it; never enough for it to be satisfying.

“hah—feel that?” nanami whispers, voice strained and breathless. “feel my hard cock throbbing inside you?”

moaning brokenly, you do feel it—the way it’s pushing against your walls, pulsing in waves, making your head spin. this has to be the sweetest torture that you’ve ever experienced, only serving to make you more frustrated. you feel nanami’s erection shifting inside you, and just when you manage to adjust to the sensation, he begins pulling out fully—still going slow, letting his cock drag and drag and drag until only the tip remains inside.

fuck. fuck, it’s only been one thrust. the single most agonizing and dreadful thrust that you’ve ever had to endure. nanami is taking you apart piece by piece, so skillfully that it would almost be embarrassing if you were any less aroused. nanami’s sense of restraint is definitely commendable, but god, you wish that he’d just get on with it.

trying to swivel your hips and take matters into your own hands, you desperately try to seek more of the delicious friction. meanwhile, nanami is still rocking into you languidly but only with the head of his cock now, teasing and stretching your pussy over and over.

“i can—i can tell that you want it so bad,” he says, watching the way your body aches for it. “why don’t you use your words, sweetheart. be a good girl and let me hear how well you can beg.”

“kento—” you break off, whining. you yearn for it, need to be filled, need to have all of nanami inside you again. “p-please—hng—you—your cock—please!”

“yeah? and where do you want my cock?”

“i-inside.” you’re trembling, desperate. “in my pussy. wanna—wanna be fucked by your cock—hard and deep—ngh, kento—please just—p-put it in already—”

nanami sucks in a breath, groaning as his self-control withers away upon hearing those words. he looks at you, with your face down and ass up, pussy dripping as evidence of your desire, and finds himself at his limit, too. he’s made you wait long enough. he’s made himself wait long enough.

sinking inside, you both moan as nanami buries himself into you, starting with shallow thrusts that get deeper and deeper as time goes on. each roll of the hips is deliberate, his cock searching for the place that will make you fall apart.

“yes, yes—a-ah!” the stimulation on your g-spot has you shaking, arousal peaking. “right there—fuck, that’s—ngh, so good—feels so good—”

once nanami gets going, he really doesn’t hold back. he pounds into you at a brutal pace, making sure to aim deep inside you every time. clawing at the bed, you try to pull yourself away, just a little bit, but he only drags you back and holds you down in place, forcing you to take it.

“t-too much—hah—it’s too much—shit, kento—kento—i’m about to—”

you hardly even realize that you’re moaning again and again, so consumed by the pleasure, until nanami reminds you, “shh, not so loud. unless you want everyone to hear just how fucking naughty you are.”

heat rushes over you, body burning at the implications, and just the thought alone is enough to almost make you come. it must be obvious that you’re nearing your limit because nanami growls and says, “don’t come. don’t you fucking dare come. i’m not done with you yet.”

those words almost push you right over the edge and all you can do is moan and whimper, helpless to take nanami’s cock over and over, steadily building you up to your climax. “hah—hah—fuck, i-i can’t—can’t hold—” you’re shaking, begging; there’s no relief, just a constant assault targeted at g-spot as you try desperately to stave off your inevitable orgasm. “o-oh my god, i—i’m gonna—i’m gonna come—”

immediately, nanami stops. the whole world seems to freeze.

the only sounds in the room are your ragged, panting breaths. your arms give out and you collapse forward on the bed, ass still raised from where you’re connected with nanami. a wave of the most intense heat you’ve ever felt scorches through your body, and your mind is still a haze, struggling to comprehend what just happened.

“fuck!” you can’t help crying out, desperate for nanami to keep moving. to keep doing—something. anything. “n-no, fuck, please—i-i need—”

but of course, it never comes. nanami made sure of that.

you had been so close; god, you had been so fucking close. between your legs, your pussy throbs in protest. you feel it like a cruel reminder of your almost-orgasm every time it pulses, pulses, pulses, even long after you’ve been denied of any further stimulation. you were so ready for release, so sure that you’d get it despite nanami’s words because of how quickly you had been hurtling toward the edge, mere seconds from tipping over.

“good girl, so good for me,” nanami murmurs, the praise reigniting your arousal. he nods at your dripping pussy. “fuck, i bet you’re just aching for it, aren’t you? i’ve never seen such a desperate, horny pussy before.”

and you’re all too aware of his hands which are circling around your hips, inching toward your clit, which has been neglected since earlier. tingles shoot up your spine as he brushes a finger against it, and you’re still hanging dangerously on the edge, right at the brink.

“p-please…” you say, willing to accept anything at this point. anything that nanami can give you. “i’m so close…”

nanami hums. “how much more do you think it’ll take for you to come?” he asks, fingers hovering right above your clit while you’re still very much aware that his cock is buried inside you. “two strokes on this sensitive clit? a single thrust in your pussy?”

whimpering, you throb under his touch. “i-i don’t—i can’t—”

“let’s find out, hm?” nanami doesn’t allow you any more time to think. his cock, deep in your pussy, begins to move at the same time as his hand, circling your clit while thrusting deep as he rolls his hips. groaning, he begins to count, “one.”

the build-up this time is alarmingly fast, hitting you as soon as you feel him pounding into you, aiming deliberately for your g-spot again. it’s instantly overwhelming, the way his hand makes tight, rapid circles around your clit while he’s simultaneously stuffing you with his cock. the assault is merciless, and you’re far too close to the edge to even try and hold back. “c-coming—ah, fuck—fuck, i’m—”

nanami doesn’t even get to count to two before you’re clenching around his cock and moaning loud and coming so hard that you don’t think you’ve ever felt pleasure like this. nanami’s cock pulses inside you and your mind blanks. you don’t stop coming until he’s finally pushed to his limit, too.

“shit, shit—” nanami moans, low and guttural. he fucks you through it, not stopping until he’s reached his climax, too. “so fucking tight—you’re—ngh, fuck, you’re gonna make me come—”

a moment later, warmth erupts inside you, making you whine softly. nanami’s hips stutter as he throws his head back, panting and moaning through his orgasm. he throbs inside you, continues throbbing until he’s emptied all of his release, filling you up in the best way.

as he pulls out, you can feel his come trickling out of your pussy, so filthy, so fucking hot. you’re sure that the sight of it is erotic, too—thick, white sperm dripping out of you as evidence of nanami’s cock claiming you. breathing heavily on top of you, nanami shuts his eyes to reorient himself from the high of his orgasm.

mind still hazy, you glance at the ceiling, then around at your surroundings. you remember where you are: the massage parlor. right. you can’t believe you really just had sex here; can’t believe it took this long for nanami to finally fuck you without getting interrupted or stopping abruptly due to time constraints.

when nanami opens his eyes again, he looks at you and runs a hand through his hair. the action shouldn’t look so hot—he shouldn’t look so hot after giving you the best fucking of your life. he says, voice low, “you’re going to be the death of me.”

you grin at him. “you can’t deny that it was good, though.”

“i’ve never come so hard before,” nanami admits.

two sessions of teasing each other. weeks of holding back, masturbating to the thought of each other. your attraction to each other, all the sexual tension, everything built up to this moment. you can still feel the aftershocks of your orgasm, the pleasure spreading throughout your body in waves. it's the same for nanami.

neither of you are pretending that this is a massage anymore. truthfully, it hasn’t been for a long time.

“think i can come see you again sometime?” you ask.

“well, i work here,” he says. “and you’re welcome to visit any time you need stress relief, of course.”

of course, you think. you're absolutely going to take him up on that offer.

tag list: @megumisdivinedogs @urlilwhore @l0rdgeosupport3rr @purple-obsidian @l0rdgeosupport3rr @minni-creations @fos-tis-zois @the-reas0n-is-y0u @cantfeelherface @rxmbzzz @lysaray @zelzablues @str4wbrrycandy @that-goth-bisexual @simping4u @iminlovewqr0w @sharks31 @pseudowho @jisoonunn @outkasti @anathemaspeaks @fushigur0slut4 @barryatsumu @d0nk3y-k0ng @shasaaa15 @wil10wthetree @maskedpacific @genshingeeksworld @itsnotmelo @goddexxluv @jaeminsmilk @eggphobic @thejujvtsupost @sadcabbage @magicalgirlb @therealisttheillest @fushigur0slut4 @nanamiswifeyy

(comment to be added for future works)

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk men #jjk smut #jjk imagine #nanami kento #nanami smut #jjk nanami #naughtyjjk #nanami imagine #nanami x reader #jujutsu nanami #nanami x you

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wosoloml · 2 days ago

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From Rivalry to becoming Family || Alessia Russo x German!reader (Frankfurt!Reader)

Summary: When you and Alessia get engaged, you decide to celebrate this milestone with both of your national teams. What starts as a union between two people becomes a beautiful transformation from the rivalry of the Euros 2022 into a bond that feels like family.

a/n: throwback to the most painful day ever as a german. ich hoffe ich habe deine request gut umgesetzt <3 danke für deine worte!! i hope its okay i wrote also about how they got together.

wc: 1,4k | from this request

warnings : nothing just fluff except for mentioning the euros final

"Y/N! Are you finally done?" Alessia shouts through the house for the third time, trying her best to stay patient while waiting downstairs for her fiancée.

"Babe, relax. We won’t be late; everything’s going to work out," I reassure her, descending the stairs to join her.

Four days ago marked one of the best days of our lives.

After two and a half years of dating, Alessia finally asked me to be her wife. And, of course, I said yes.

It all began during the Euros in 2022. Alessia and I couldn’t be more different when it comes to our nationalities. Keeping our relationship private was tough, especially when we faced each other in the final. But at least we knew one of us would be celebrating that night.

The day after the final was when we finally told our teammates about our relationship. Since that day, the rivalry between England and Germany hasn’t felt quite as intense (even though we all know Germany is the better team).

"We’re going to be late if you spend another hour deciding which shoes match your dress," Alessia says, her impatience bubbling over as she watches me.

"I'm done! What do you think of my outfit?" I ask, turning to face her. Alessia’s eyes widen as she takes in the sight of me.

"Wow," she breathes, her expression full of admiration.

I feel my cheeks warm at her reaction. Even after two and a half years of being showered with her compliments, I still haven’t learned how to process them without blushing.

---------

When we arrive at the little beach house, everything is perfectly decorated, but no one is waiting for us. It’s a stark contrast to Alessia’s prediction that we’d be late because I took “so long.”

I can’t help but feel grateful that we managed to arrange this small party to celebrate such a special milestone in our relationship. Playing in different countries makes it difficult to maintain anything resembling a normal relationship, so it means the world that we were able to bring both of us—and all our national teammates—together for this one celebration.

----

The clock struck exactly 3:00 PM when the first guests arrived. Unsurprisingly, it was Alessia’s best friends, Lotte and Ella. My heart swelled with love as I saw how many people cared about Alessia enough to travel all the way to Denmark to celebrate with us.

"Ella! Lotte! I’m so glad you’re here," I exclaimed, pulling them into a tight hug. In the beginning of our relationship, spending time with Alessia’s friends felt a bit awkward—especially since they played for England. But they turned out to be the sweetest people, and I’d never felt more welcomed.

"I can’t believe she finally asked you," Lotte teased, rolling her eyes. "She must have called me a thousand times, asking if it was too early, too late, or what your answer might be. Honestly, thank you for saying yes!"

I couldn’t help but laugh as Alessia came over, resting her hand gently on my back and joining in to greet her friends. Moments like this reminded me just how lucky I was to be surrounded by so much love.

Here’s a polished and restructured version of your text:

I could hear two loud voices singing and laughing with Alessia, and I immediately knew who had just arrived.

"Y/N, go get your girls before Laura starts drinking all the champagne before nightfall," Alessia teased, flashing me a grin.

"My girls! There you are!" I exclaimed as I rushed over to greet them. "I’m so happy you both are here."

We were used to speaking English with each other, but it still felt amusing, given our shared history.

"I can’t believe my little girl is getting married to the blonde English striker," Sara said, her voice full of mock disbelief. "It’s still unbelievable how you kept it a secret. We all knew you had a crush on her—like, who didn’t? And then secretly meeting her after games... and now here we are. My lovebirds!"

Sara couldn’t stop smiling as she looked at Alessia, her words filled with warmth.

"Okay, Sara, enough is enough!" I interrupted, my cheeks turning crimson.

Alessia caught Sara’s eye and gave me a playful wink, which only made me blush harder.

-----

As time passed, more and more guests arrived, until all of our national teammates were finally here. My heart swelled with love as I watched Leah chatting animatedly with Lena and Mary exchanging tactics with Merle. After years of playing against each other, it felt surreal to see everyone coming together like one big family.

I wrapped my arm around Alessia, unable to stop myself from smiling. It was hard to believe how perfect my life felt in that moment. I was the luckiest woman alive, with the best fiancée by my side. (And let’s not forget—she won Arsenal's Goal and Player of the Month! How could I not feel proud?)

----

My eyes caught Ella as she stood up and cleared her throat, drawing everyone’s attention.

"When Alessia first told me she had a crush on Y/N, I already knew," she began with a soft smile. "Her eyes never lied when she looked at her. It didn’t matter if it was during tactical meetings while we analyzed other teams or when Y/N crossed our path on the way to different games. That same look was always there—an expression full of admiration."

Ella paused for a moment, her gaze shifting warmly between us. "I’ll save the big words for their wedding speech, but what I can already say is this: no one has ever made Alessia’s eyes sparkle the way you do. Thank you, Y/N, for making our Lessi the happiest girl on earth."

Ella fought back her tears, just like the rest of us. I smiled warmly at her, holding Alessia’s hand tightly in mine.

"She’s not the only one determined to make us all cry tonight," I said, glancing over at Laura. My heart immediately swelled with emotion. Laura wasn’t typically one for big words or grand displays of sentiment, so her standing up to speak meant the world to me.

"We didn’t win the Euros," Laura began, her voice steady yet filled with emotion, "but we won something even more special—new friendships. And most importantly, my best friend found the love of her life."

She paused, her gaze flicking between Alessia and me, a gentle smile gracing her face. "Whether it’s singing ‘Sweet Caroline’ in a karaoke bar or cheering for you at the Emirates, know that it’s always from the bottom of our hearts. Alessia, you are the first person I trust completely with Y/N’s heart, and I know it’s safe with you. Here’s to many more memories together. Cheers!"

Her words left the room in a silence filled with love and admiration before glasses clinked together in celebration. I couldn’t stop the tears from welling up as I squeezed Alessia’s hand, grateful beyond words for this moment.

I stood up, taking a moment to gather my thoughts before speaking on behalf of both of us.

"First of all, I need to thank our best friends for making us all cry and for finding the perfect words. You truly know how to touch our hearts. Thank you." I paused, looking around the room, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

"And we also want to thank all of you for being here today. We know it’s no small feat to find a free spot in our busy schedules, so we really appreciate you making the effort."

I smiled and raised my glass. "Please, enjoy the day, and let’s not drink too much!"

The laughter that followed helped ease the nerves in my chest, and I couldn’t help but feel thankful for everyone here, sharing in this special moment with us.

----

Alessia had her arms wrapped tightly around my waist as we swayed slowly to one of our favorite songs. Despite Leah’s role in music, today’s playlist wasn’t half bad.

"Thank you for spending the rest of my life with me," Alessia whispered softly in my ear, her words sending a warmth feeling through me.

"It’s a pleasure to spend it with you," I replied, my voice shy as I glanced at her. "I hope you liked today."

She smiled at me, her expression full of comfort. "I loved it today."

I leaned in closer "I love you."

May our story continue, forever.

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artsarasp · 2 days ago

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(Oh god I hope I’m doing this right🫠) uuuummm ask game with “SOMETHING sy and bingge” ???? I love your art and writing so much it makes me crazy 😔😔😔

You're doing great and I love u, Thank u so much <3

"SOMETHING sy and bingge" is a little one-shot I wrote where SY from syonr meets Bingge in a dream!

I think I can share the whole thing since I'm probably not gonna add anything to it- please forgive the nonexistent grammar, I'm too tired to fix it.

Shen Yuan wasn't aware that he wasn't simply dreaming.

He might have been.

If he hadn't left his system on silent, the notification of a brand new side quest would have been a giveaway.

But as it stood now, he had no clue anything was amiss when the beautiful, dark-haired figure he only remembered from his fanmade posters back home stood in front of him.

Luo Binghe.

It wasn't his Binghe, his friend was still shorter than him at this point and his demon heritage was still firmly locked away. The man in front of him was- Wow! Truly out of the final chapters of Proud Immortal Demon Way!

Tall and Handsome, his curly dark hair cascading on his shoulders artfully and framing his face perfectly, letting his shiny zuiyin peek from behind his locks just enough to paint, overall, unfairly beautiful picture.

No wonder every woman fell into the guy's bed! Who wouldn't?

Shen Yuan couldn't help a little squeal of excitement when he spotted Xin Mo– Xin Mo! Was in his hands! He could act a little excited about it, it was a dream after all! He didn’t have to hold back his inner fanboy

“Can I hold Xin Mo?” He asked before Luo Binghe could say anything.

Shen Yuan had paid no mind to how the man had been staring at him until then, his mind probably couldn't come up with more cool things to have this perfect copy of Binghe do.

Just existing was cool enough!

But now that he was waiting for an answer he paid more attention to the movements of the demon emperor. Luo Binghe seemed startled by the request. He looked down at the sword, then back at Shen Yuan.

“You know its name. “ He said.

Shen Yuan scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Of course I know its name! It's the strongest sword in the world!” What sort of question was this? Brain please make the cool Binghe of his dreams not make dumb questions.

Luo Binghe's eyes narrowed, then he stepped closer to Shen Yuan.

He was huge compared to him in his stupid teen body. Shen Yuan might have stepped back if he were awake simply because Luo Binghe's presence was the sort that made you want to shrink back in fear.

But it was only a dream! It was his favorite character in front of him, in all his glory! He couldn't help the grinning from ear to ear.

Binghe seemed… confused by this.

Shen Yuan hummed, still waiting for an answer. He thought, maybe this version of Binghe was slightly influenced by how he saw his own Binghe. This close up, If he looked at him right, with just a tilt of his head to the side he could spot tiny details this version of Binghe shared with his friend.

Despite the age difference they made the same expression when they were confused, their eyebrows creased in the same way, their eyes darted to the side then back down like always. It made him smile more.

“Do you know it's cursed? “ Luo Binghe asks.

“Duh!” He has to roll his eyes again. Really, brain. What sort of questions are you making him ask? “ It's only a dream, what harm can it do?” He says instead.

Binghe keeps staring at him but this time Shen Yuan is not able to read that expression, it's not like any his friend has shown before. Then a smile paints itself on the demon's face.

“You can hold the sword if you answer some questions I have.” He says.

Shen Yuan grimaces. Not even in his dreams can he just have a cool thing! Knowing his brain, Binghe is gonna ask him to recite that poem he's been struggling to copy down in calligraphy class. ugh.

“Okay, but no questions on the curriculum!”

Ah, there's that confused expression again. that's funny.

Binghe clears his throat.

“Are you Shen Jiu?”

Shen yuan blinks. Who's that supposed to be now? Ah, wasn't that Shen Qingqiu’s name before ascension? bah, it didn't matter!

“No, That's Shizun. I'm Shen Yuan. Let me hold the sword now” He reached for the hilt but Binghe simply raised it out of his reach. Then he had the nerve to look amused.

Look at you already abusing your height A-Luo!

“I said questions.” He mocked. “Do you recognize me? You don't seem scared.”

What sort of interview was this? He crossed his arms.

“How many questions? Give me a number!” He wasn't about to have his dream end before being able to hold the sword!

The demon smiled. “A thousand.”

“Eh?! That's so unfair, Binghe!” Shen Yuan cried “I'm gonna wake up before even reaching half of that! Heartless! “

The demon seemed even more amused at the teen's outburst.

Then the hilt of Xin Mo was presented to Shen Yuan.

He let out an undignified squeal again and reached for the sword. only to have it yanked back up before he could touch it again.

Unfair!!! He was being bullied by the hot future version of his best friend!!!

“I changed my mind, I don't want to hold Xin Mo.” He pouted.

A small laugh left the demon emperor.

—

Luo Binghe was known across the three realms as the immortal demon emperor.

He was known by now for taking what he wanted.

In his search for his “Nice Shizun” he hadn’t thought he’d find so many different versions of him. Sometimes his nice shizun wasn’t his shizun at all. Sometimes it was a nice shishu, sometimes it was a nice stranger, sometimes it was a nice shidi.

This “Nice Shizun” seemed to be the main variant missing from his life, every other world he visited had some version of it, only his didn’t.

Why, he couldn’t understand. But he wouldn’t wallow in how unfair his life was, he’d stopped doing that when he first hit the bottom of the abyss.

He just needed to find the perfect nice Shizun to steal for himself. Have another version of himself suffer like he did. it would only be fair.

Maybe the nice Shidi could work.

#ask #wip folder game #svsss

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torturedtypewritersdept · 2 days ago

Text

proclivity - pt. six - motion sickness

✯ pairing:

ex!bff!rafe cameron x diabetic!kook!fem!reader

✯ summary:

at one point in time rafe was your best friend. can summer romance erase all the damage he's done?

✯ [7k]warnings:

mature themes, mentions of anxiety, nostalgia, heartbreak, diabetes lingo, injury, ghosting, fluff and fear, domestic violence (not rafe), mean!ex!jj etc.

✯ a/n:

nothing!! please don't engage if you have a hard time with any of these topics <3 this was originally posted on my old blog @/illicitfixations, @/lovelornanonymity and i have rewritten + reshared it here :) trying out a new format with this post, hope you like it!

You laid with Rafe on that white fleece blanket for what felt like hours. You nuzzled your face deeper into his chest, as you recounted some more of the trauma that you had experienced at the hands of JJ, listening to the constant beat of Rafe’s heart. You knew that when that sound ever stopped that you’d cease to exist. Rafe's phone rang loudly, bringing you out of your conversation and he dug through the pocket of his khaki shorts glancing at the screen - it was Topper. As he answered the phone, he gave you a knowing look, letting you know that the conversation wasn’t over. You made a mental note that you were going to have to have a chat with Top about calling at the most inconvenient times. Rafe rolled his eyes but drug his large finger across the screen to answer the facetime call.

“What is it, Top?”

Rafe questioned, rolling his eyes.

“That’s no way to greet your best friend, jackass.”

Topper quipped, a smile on his lips.

“Well, I’m a little busy right now.”

Rafe replied, moving the camera to show you laid on his chest on the beach.

“Shit, my bad. Have you taken her to pound town yet?”

Rafe grimaced, Topper must've thought you were asleep because there was no way he’d say that with you conscious.

“No, he hasn’t.”

You whispered out, looking up at Rafe with sad eyes and he swallowed thickly. At Topper’s words, you wondered if that’s all this was, some sick ploy to sleep with you or to break your heart on purpose. Realization of the fact that you just shared some of your most vulnerable parts with him made your stomach sink, but you quickly pushed it down.

“Hey, shit. I’m sorry Y/n, I was just messing with Rafe. He really likes you.”

Topper spoke with a tone so genuine you decided to relax a little.

“I think I got that top, thanks for the info.”

You quipped, bringing light-hearted energy back to the conversation. Though, you knew you’d have to talk to Rafe about what he said in private.

“Anyways, losers. There’s a party at my house tonight. I expect to see you two there.”

Topper urged.

“We might make an appearance. We’re spending time together though so probably not.”

Your heart leapt at his words, he was willing to give up a party to spend time with you. Who was this new and improved version of Rafe Cameron?

“Well spend time together at this party.”

Topper urged again, stronger this time.

“We’ll think about it, bye Top.”

Rafe’s tone was gruff and annoyed. Topper was still talking but Rafe hung up the phone not wanting to hear anything else he had to say.

“We can go if you want to, Rafael.”

You spoke sweetly, giving him a smile, as he hung up the phone.

“Are you sure, angel? This is our day, we don’t have to.”

He reassured you, placing a hand on your thigh and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah, it’ll be nice to spend time with the boys, it’s okay.”

Your cheerful, radiant smile sent a shiver down his spine. When you gave him that smile, he knew he’d do anything and everything to make you happy until he breathed his last breath. You were such a ball of sunshine, his sunshine, that’s all Rafe could manage to think as he smiled at you, thankful for your kind, free-spirited, go with the flow nature. He almost couldn’t believe all you had gone through, he didn’t truly want to believe it. It hurt him to think of JJ’s hands on you, hurting you.

Truth be told, Rafe didn’t need to go to this party, he didn’t even want to. But, you saying that he could meant a lot to him and it meant even more that you’d be there with him, on his arm. You laid with him for a bit longer, watching as the sun went completely down, the light pink and orange hues turning to the black of night before you began packing up the remnants of your picnic and headed to the truck, your hand in his.

It was ten o'clock when you made it to Topper’s house and you felt yourself wanting to let loose a bit. As Rafe made his way around the island of the kitchen, he poured himself some tequila in a red solo cup and asked Topper what he had for you to drink.

“Top, what do you have that y/n can drink?”

Topper’s eyes looked like they were going to fall out of his head.

“Shit! I’m so sorry, y/n. I didn’t pick anything up for you.”

He placed his head in his hands.

“It’s okay, Top. I can have a drink or two. It’s no big deal.”

You shrugged your shoulders and your eyes met Rafe’s. He was angry. How could Top be such an idiot, he thought. How could he ask you to come and not think of you when buying beverages? You could tell the thought of alcohol being in your bloodstream made him uneasy.

“There’s insulin in the truck, okay? You tell me if you start to feel weird.”

He reassuringly rubbed his hands up and down your arms and craned his head down where you could reach him. Standing at six foot four, he towered over. He could see the lust present in your eyes and when he leaned in close enough, you locked your lips with his. The kiss was passionate and slow and it felt like everything in the room had disappeared, like it was just the two of you standing there. Then you heard the voice of your abuser. You pulled away and gave Rafe scared eyes as you surveyed the room, looking for where his voice was coming from. He knew what was happening, the fear that you displayed and the voice he had grown to hate told him what was wrong. He didn’t need to ask.

“Hey, angel. Look at me. It’s okay. Need you to promise you’ll tell me if you start feeling bad before I get you a beer, okay?”

“I promise I will.”

You replied, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. He took you out of the kitchen and led you outside to the bonfire where Topper and Kelce stood, in hopes that getting you away from JJ would be enough to calm you. It was - you knew you were safe in the presence of Rafael, let alone of all three of them. Rafe stepped away for only a moment, grabbing you a beer from the cooler, and popping it open before handing it to you. The coolness of the bottle sent a shock through your arm. He made his way back behind you and you leaned up against him, his hands on your hips. You took a sip of the beer in your hands and leaned your head back against Rafe’s pectoral muscles, craning your neck to the side as he leaned down and peppered kisses to the exposed skin. You were entering bliss when you heard the all too eerily familiar voice of JJ Maybank.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

He taunted and Rafe’s eyes shot to his, the grip he had on your waist tightening in protection. Rafe scoffed, not wanting to give JJ the time of day or put you in harm's way by starting a fight.

“You like my sloppy seconds, Rafael? Tell me, how does she taste?”

“Don’t you dare call him that, JJ.”

You spat. Rafael was his name so anyone could really use it. But not JJ. He didn’t know Rafe well enough to even use the nickname his parents had given him, let alone the name you used as a term of endearment.

“Wouldn’t you like to know? There’s no sloppy seconds, when you never had someone to begin with, Maybank.”

Rafe retorted, his voice sinister, begging JJ to egg him on.

“Sweetheart, tell your boyfriend to watch his mouth or I'll put a matching scar on the other cheek.”

He grinned cheekily and Rafe grabbed you by the shoulders, moving you out of his path as he stalked toward JJ. Topper and Kelce stood, chests puffed out at his remark, confused about what he meant but the promise of a threat towards you putting them in a mode of protection.

“What the fuck did you say?!”

Rafe growled in his direction.

“I said, It’d be a real shame if I had to put another scar on her pretty little face because you don’t know how to behave, wouldn’t it?”

The crunch of Rafe’s fist hitting JJ’s jaw echoed across the beach, as the blonde flew back under the weight of his right hook. Rafe moved swiftly toward JJ, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, landing not one, not two, but three more blows to his cheek.

“You’re not ever gonna touch her again!”

Rafe screamed as his fists relentlessly wailed into the side of JJ’s head, blood splattered up and landed underneath Rafe’s eye.

“I wouldn’t be so sure, Cameron. I’ll touch her whenever and however I want to.”

He coughed out, JJ was a cocky bastard who didn’t know when to shut the fuck up, even when he was being pummelled into the ground. At his remark, Rafe hit him so hard that he thought he was dead for a second.

“You had enough, Maybank?”

Rafe asked as he drew back from JJ, still holding him by the collar of his shirt.

“Not even close.”

He grunted out before spitting in Rafe’s face, Rafe’s hands released JJ in an attempt to get the saliva off of his face. He was disgusted like anyone would have been. JJ took the opportunity and lunged on top of Rafe, pinning him to the ground, and laying a hit on Rafe’s cheek. You and Topper made your way to them quickly, no longer being onlookers. Topper pulled JJ off of Rafe from behind. JJ was too fast though and wiggled out of Topper’s grasp by the time Rafe was back to his feet. You quickly inserted your body in between them, thinking that was a sure-fire way to stop the fight. It wasn’t. Before you knew it, you looked in JJ’s direction out of the corner of your eye and his fist collided with your nose at full force. Shock littered Rafe’s face and anger infiltrated every fiber of his being.

“Told you I’d touch her how I wanted to.”

JJ remarked, a sinister smirk residing on his face. It was one thing to hear your first-hand account of JJ’s abuse but it was another to watch him put his hands on you, accidental or not, and Rafe went absolutely feral.

“Topper, Kelce, get her out of here!”

Rafe yelled, taking in your shaking, crying form, as your hands covered your face. Topper did as he was told, lifting you bridal style and taking you back towards the house, sitting you on the steps, instructing people to move out of the way before kneeling in front of you. Kelce followed shortly behind.

“Y/N, are you alright?”

Topper questioned softly, grabbing your knee, and squeezing it to give you some reassurance. You continued crying.

“Come on, pretty girl, let me see it.”

“N-no, T-top.”

You choked out.

“I need to look at it, y/n.”

“N-no.”

You continued to sob uncontrollably. Topper made his way behind you, taking a seat and placing you in between his legs.

“It’s okay. Rafe’s gonna be here soon, it’s gonna be fine.”

He whispered into your hairline and squeezed you tightly into a hug. Kelce knelt down in front of you, slowly coaxing you to pry your hands away from your face. When you did, the shock that both boys felt at the sight of your nose was enough to send them reeling. Topper looked at Kelce, his eyes laced with venom and specific instructions and Kelce knew exactly what it meant. He needed to go to Rafe. He nodded his head reassuringly, placing a kiss on your cheek before stalking toward the bonfire where the fight had originated. When Kelce made it back down to where Rafe was, he held off on approaching him fully and instead watched as Rafe stalked toward the offender, hitting him so hard that he knew JJ Maybank was barely conscious. Truth be told, he wanted his best friend to pummel him into the sand, he wanted him to suffer, to be laying in a hospital bed for what he had done to you and Kelce would make sure that whether it was Rafe or not, that’s what was going to happen. He continued to look on at the scene, Rafe punching JJ over and over again. Blow after violent blow landing on JJ’s face, stomach, and chest. He deserved it, Kelce knew that, but what he didn’t expect was Rafe to continue the blows, with seemingly no end in sight. He began to wonder if Rafe could stop if he could control himself enough to be able to. He should’ve expected it because Rafe Cameron had been in love with you since pre-school and anyone who dared to try and hurt you or take you away from him was sure to pay a hefty price. Kelce had paid his the summer before eighth grade when he made a comment about your ever-growing breasts. Rafe had bruised his ribs and his ego for talking about you in such a vulgar way, especially in front of him.

Kelce was brought out of his thoughts and began to make his way toward Rafe when he looked on and saw Rafe pinning JJ’s right arm behind his back, preparing to snap the bone in half if that’s what it took to send the message to the Pogue to stay the fuck away from his girl.

“Rafael!”

Kelce yelled at him, which got his attention immediately. The boys did not use his full name. Rafe looked in his direction with bewildered eyes.

“I’m a little fucking busy, Kelceo.”

He spat.

“I get that, but you need to get up here and check on her. I think he broke her nose. Besides, she doesn’t need to watch you be an animal, Rafe. You’re not that guy anymore.”

Rafe swallowed the words of his friend and gingerly nodded, realization hit him, Kelce was right. He threw JJ to the ground, knowing that for the first time in his fucking life Kelce wasn’t saying some dumbass remark, he wasn’t being an asshole or a bully, he was doing the right thing and currently, the right thing was keeping his best friend out of prison for murder. Instead, keeping him where he belonged, with you.

Rafe’s tall figure quickly stalked towards you, fear in his eyes. Your hands covered your face as the blood pooled from your nose. The crunch of the bone could be felt with every nerve ending that inhabited your body. He kneeled in front of you on the balls of his feet, hands hovering over your figure, afraid to touch you in fear of hurting you worse.

“Baby, I need you to talk to me. How bad are you hurt?”

“R-Rafael…”

You whimpered violently, your hands clutching to your face, blood pooling down past your chin.

“Come on baby girl, let me see your face. I need to look to fix it.”

He spoke sweetly and you trusted his every word. Slowly lifting your hands away from your face, your eyes met Rafe’s worrying form. You winced at the lack of pressure on your wound and fought to get your hands back to it. Before you could complete the movement, Rafe grabbed you by the wrists. He took in the already forming bruises under your eyes and the way the bridge of your nose now sat at a bend that protruded out to the left side.

“Okay, baby. It’s okay. You look so pretty. But I think your nose is broken so I need to take you to the hospital, okay?”

“I-, I don’t wanna go, Rafe.”

You choked out a sob, whimpering into his chest, as he pulled you in. Blood soaked the shirt he was wearing but he didn’t care. You needed to be held and that’s what he was going to do.

“I know baby, but I just want to get you checked out, okay? We gotta make sure you're alright.”

You nodded, giving him permission. Which you were thankful he waited for and you felt his strong arms lift you up, carrying you bridal style, your head resting against his chest, listening to his heartbeat and the scrunch of his button-down moving up and down with each step he took.

“I’m sorry, Rafael.”

“Shh. Nothing to be sorry about, angel.”

He cooed, placing a kiss on your hairline.

“I’m getting blood all over your shirt.”

“It’s okay, you can always buy me a new one.”

He quipped, making you giggle, and even though it made you wince, you were thankful it was laughter created by him. You were brought out of your thoughts as Rafe finally came up on his truck. You marveled at how he opened the door, with such ease, not even shifting you in his arms to readjust. He was so strong and you loved it. He placed you into the passenger seat, buckling you in and reaching into the center console from which he retrieved a box of baby wipes. He had started keeping them in his truck after the first nosebleed he got during football practice and it had been a lifesaver ever since. Today, they’d be used for his girl and while that made him cringe, he was thankful he had them on hand. He slowly pulled them out of the container and stilled his hands, not wanting to spook you.

“Okay, sweet girl, I’m going to clean your face up, alright?”

You hummed in response, talking made it hurt worse and Rafe knew that so he didn’t probe you any further. Once he had your permission, he gently brought the wipes up to your nose and chin, wiping the blood off of your face as he stood between the passenger side door and the seat you occupied. You winced in pain at the feeling of the cold wipes against your bruised flesh.

“I know baby, I know it hurts, I’m so sorry.”

“s’okay Rafey.”

You muttered.

“There we go, my pretty girl is all cleaned up, no more blood.”

He gave you that classic, bright, panty-dropping Rafe Cameron smile and pecked your lips lightly, careful not to touch your nose, but wanting to give you some sort of reassurance that you were safe. You gave him a forced smile and he closed your door, making his way to the driver's side, hopping in and starting the truck. He gave your thigh a reassuring squeeze before pulling off, heading toward St. Olive’s emergency department.

After hours of x-rays and CT scans and waiting, the doctor had confirmed yours and Rafe’s worst fears, you had a displaced nasal fracture, which meant they had to pop it back into place. Rafe knew the procedure would be painful, he had dislocated his shoulder before, and when it was popped back into place he screamed like a girl. The memory was enough to make him shudder and the fact that his sweet angel had to deal with that level of pain made him want to cry. He held your hand when a doctor and a nurse brought in long silver tools that looked like medieval torture devices. When your fear-stricken eyes met him, he almost collapsed. Rafe stayed up by your head, sitting on a stool beside you, stroking your hair as you lay flat on the bed. The anticipation of the pain you were about to feel took over all of your senses. You genuinely just wanted them to get it the fuck over with. They injected you with numbing medication first and then quickly got to work, inserting the tools up your nose and pressing hard against the bone. The crunch made Rafe feel sick and it made him feel even worse when he looked down at you and saw the tears running down your face. He placed a kiss on your forehead and continued running his fingers through your hair, while the doctors applied the splint to your nose. After the conclusion of the procedure, you were released from the hospital back into Rafe’s care. Luckily, you slept most of the way home from the pain medicine they had given you before your departure. As you and Rafe quietly made your way into the house, you were met with the unexpected - Ward. His voice bellowed through the thick air of the foyer and the lights flickered on. He was angry and you couldn’t blame him. He was just being a good dad, a good person.

“Rafael Joseph Cameron! What were you two doing out so late?! I’m supposed to take care of her while her parents are out of town. How in the fucking world can I do that if you are gone all hours of the night?! Huh?!”

“Sorry, Dad-”

Rafe stuttered, Ward’s wrath was the only thing in the world that he seemed to be afraid of.

“It’s my fault.”

You spoke, your voice soft and tender, which took Ward away from his anger just enough to voice his concern. He noticed the pained expression you displayed as you moved the ice away from your face and revealed the cast that sat on your nose.

“What the fuck happened?!”

Ward questioned, moving closer to you, hands out in search of your cheeks. You winced away from his touch and Rafe grabbed his wrists.

“Dad, don’t touch it. Her nose is broken, they had to pop it back in place. She’s in a lot of pain.”

Rafe all but barked at his father, his mind associating him as a threat. Ward’s eyes softened.

“Sweetheart, how did this happen?”

His voice was no longer bellowing through the halls of the mansion, it was soft, caring, and kind. It reminded you of Rafe, which was odd considering you were almost sure all of the good qualities in him came from his late mother, Kate.

“Rafe was defending me at a party and the guy had him pinned down. I got in the middle and the guy hit me.”

“Son, is this true? Why were you fighting? You know my rules about fighting.”

Ward’s tone was still soft, but disappointment laced his voice. You knew his rules about fighting. Rafe wasn’t allowed to fight unless he was on the brink of death or he was protecting someone else. Ward was very strict about that and always had been. Though most of the tomfoolery and fights Rafe had been in over the years Ward was unaware of.

“It was her ex. He’s hurt her before and he said something smart. I just lost it, Dad.”

Rafe looked down, waiting for Ward’s wrath and disappointment. He lifted his son’s chin, so his eyes could meet his and placed his hand on his cheek.

“I’m not mad, Rafael. I’m just glad you both protected each other tonight. Now, go upstairs, get some rest and we will talk in the morning.”

Ward instructed and the two of you quickly obliged, heading for the staircase. Rafe led you with an outstretched hand that you clung to until you made it to the bedroom.

“You want me to run you a bath, baby?”

“I’d love that, Rafael. Thank you, sweet boy.”

You smiled as best you could, any movement hurting the newly broken part of your face. Rafe momentarily stepped out and into the bathroom, leaving his robe on the bed for you to change into. He wanted to make sure you were comfortable and as much as he wanted to gawk at your beautiful body, he knew now wasn’t the time and when the time came, it would be special. You quickly undressed, wrapping the robe around you. It was white and fluffy and warm, like a fleece blanket. The best part about it was the intoxicating smell of Rafe that lingered in every fiber. You made your way to the bathroom, walking into Rafe being bent over the side, hands dipped in the water to make sure it was just the right temperature. You stood there in the doorway, gawking at the way his bicep contracted as he leaned over the edge of the tub, pouring the bubbles in. Everything about him turned you on, even the way he was blissfully unaware of your presence. You cleared your throat and he turned his neck to look in your direction, arms still outstretched, muscles contracting, as his body leaned over the bath he was preparing for you.

“Hey, pretty girl.”

His sweet smile made your knees weak. How could he think you were pretty right now? ‘It’s just a nickname, he doesn't mean it’, you thought.

“Hi.”

You spoke timidly, making your way into the bathroom and sitting on the lid of the toilet seat. You continued watching him as he finished up, turning the water off, and moving his body toward you.

“Are you ready to get in angel?”

He asks, squatting in front of you, holding your hands in his.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

You sheepishly smiled, looking into his bright baby blues. He gently pulled you to your feet, holding your hands in his.

“Let me step out so you can undress, baby.”

“No.”

You all but yelled at him, but quickly composed yourself. You wanted him to see you, to see all of you.

“No?”

He looked confused and it made you giggle.

“It’s okay, Rafael. You’ve seen me in a bathing suit, this is no different.”

You played it off, knowing it was indeed very different. You were about to be naked in front of the boy you had been in love with for your entire life. It was very fucking different.

“It’s very different, sweetheart.”

He replied, emphasis on the ‘very’.

“It’s okay.”

You reassure him with a smile and before he can protest, you drop the robe from your shoulders. He shuddered as it hit the floor and his eyes were invaded with the sight of you - your breasts, plump and beautiful, sitting pretty in front of him, begging, screaming, crying for him to touch them. You watched him swallow thickly and stepped closer to him, eyes boring holes into his.

“Do you like what you see, Rafael?”

You questioned, your lips turning upward into a devilish smirk. You knew what the fuck you were doing. Though you weren’t sure how you had never even been naked in front of JJ. This just felt so different, so easy.

“You have no idea how much.”

He replied simply, trying to keep his voice even. He took your hand again, helping you lower yourself into the bubbles and once you were seated he went to exit the room, so you could have time to relax after having such a hard day.

“Rafael, where are you going?”

“I just thought you’d want time to relax baby.”

“Well, it’s hard to relax without you, ya know?”

You playfully rolled your eyes as you joked.

“So, you want me to sit with you, baby?”

He was anxious for your answer, not truly knowing what you wanted from him at this moment - casual sex, intimacy, or both.

“I want you to get in with me, sweet boy. Just hold me for a little while.”

His lips turned up into a smile and he quickly stripped himself of his clothes, placing one foot into the tub and sitting behind you. He spread his legs, pulling you back into him and you laid your head on his chest.

“How’s that, pretty girl? Is this what you wanted?”

He smirked into a chuckle but as much as you wanted to laugh you heard that stupid nickname again and it made you cringe.

“Don’t call me that, I’m not that.”

Your voice was weak and feeble. He was taken aback by your declaration because you were that. You were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“Do you not like it at all or just right now?”

You almost cried at the sweet question and how well he knew you, how in tune he was with your feelings.

“Just right now, I think. I just don’t feel very pretty right now.”

“I know, baby. But, nothing has changed. It’s just a broken bone, it’ll heal.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m just worried, ya know. I mean, what if when it heals, I don’t look the same or you don’t like me anymore?”

“Baby, you gotta slow down, okay? Just breathe. You are the most beautiful person in the world, inside and out, even when you’re hurt. That’s never going to change. I’m never going to not love you.”

“Y-you love me?”

“I do. I sort of always have.”

He replied boldly. You couldn’t believe the words you were hearing, he loved you too. After all this time, he loved you too.

“Is it okay if I clean you up, baby? I’d prefer if you weren’t covered in blood when I tell you that I love you too.”

You questioned him and a smirk danced across your face. His eyes shot up at the confession laced in the back of the nonchalant nature of such a simple sentence, such a simple question. He was absolutely floored. You loved him too. How long had you loved him too? You took the wash rag in your hands, wringing it out and bringing it up to Rafe’s face, gently wiping the blood away from underneath his eyes, around his mouth, on his cheeks, and in his hairline. You dipped it back into the water, making sure to clean each wound with intent and care, placing a kiss on his nose when you were done.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone take care of me like that.”

He gruffly spoke, attempting to clear his throat. The way you made him feel was electric, every fiber of his being, every nerve ending, every muscle was on fire for the way you cared for him.

“Your mom did, I know that for a fact.”

You spoke sweetly and he smiled, knowing you were exactly right. Kate loved him deeply and cared for him like this. Maybe that’s why he loved you so much, you reminded him so much of her.

“Let’s go to bed, Rafael. I’m tired.”

“I know you are baby.”

He placed a kiss on your temple, taking your hands and helping you stand in the tub, wrapping a towel around your shivering form. He quickly dried off and helped you out of the tub, leading you back into his bedroom. You dried off the best you could and sat on the edge of the bed, the towel wrapped around you beneath your armpits. Rafe was rummaging through his dresser, looking for clothes to wear to bed for the both of you when you ushered him over to you.

“Rafe, come here.”

Your voice was soft, but it was coated with desire and longing. He took in your still naked form, thanking whatever Gods were on his side for letting him be here with you, thanking you internally for letting him see you like this. He made his way over to you, following your instructions, and sat on the bed next to you. He was nervous, being naked beside you sent chills down his spine, the water no longer providing any modesty for either of you. He ran his hand up and down his knees repeatedly, seeing him this nervous made you smile.

“What is it, angel?”

He questioned, afraid to touch you in fear of making you uncomfortable.

“Can you just hold me before we put clothes on? I just want to stay like this for a little while.”

“Is that all, angel? You had me worried for a second. Come here.”

You let out a soft giggle, removing your towel and crawling onto his lap, straddling him, the tip of his dick brushing up against your core. He bit back a groan and you felt him grow hard beneath you. You knew what the fuck you were doing and you smirked as you laid your head on his chest. He held you there, rubbing soft circles into your back as he fought to gain his composure. Getting his dick wet was the last thing on his mind, even with your antics. He wouldn’t allow his physical desires to fuck this up. He finally had you, finally knew that you loved him and wanted him too and he wanted your first time to be special. He looked down at you at the exact moment that you looked up at him, his eyes locking with yours. You plunged your lips into his, bringing your hands up to his face. His mouth opened slightly, letting you in. Your tongues fell in sync with each other, like they were meant to wrestle against each other for all of eternity and maybe they were. You panted for air, pulling away, moving to place gentle kisses on his collarbones and his broad shoulders. He pulled back, pushing you a bit, creating a barrier between the two of you. You swallowed thickly at the hurt you felt, at the rejection.

“We should stop.”

He spoke, his tone even, and it shattered your heart into a million pieces.

“I-i’m sorry. I know I’m not experienced, I know that’s not attractive.”

Your voice shook with embarrassment and your eyes went to your hands which were no longer holding on to Rafe’s arms and instead were in your lap. You squeezed them together, a habit you only took part in when you were extremely anxious. You cursed yourself, you couldn’t even kiss him right, you couldn’t do anything right. Rafe’s hands cupped both of your cheeks and his blue eyes could see the sadness laced in yours.

“Hey, don’t do that.”

He spoke softly, continuing to cradle your face in his hands, staring into your eyes so he’d know you heard every word he was about to say.

“Do what?”

You asked innocently, unsure of whether he was referring to you kissing him or something else.

“Don’t go to the bad place in your head. Everything’s okay.”

You brought your eyes back down to your hands, as he let go of your face, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Can you t-tell me w-what I did wrong?”

Your face became a deepened shade of red and he furrowed his brows in confusion and his eyes softened.

“Baby, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just-, if we do this when we do this, I want it to be when you’re my girl like officially. I don’t want us to have to guess and I want you to be sure I’m who you want your first time to be with.”

Your jaw dropped at his confession, at his sweet words. You giggled.

“Rafael, who did you think I was saving it for? I’ve been your girl since we were seven years old.”

He leaned in and you followed, letting his lips softly graze yours, breath hitching in your throat at the feeling of him. You felt euphoric as he kissed you with equal parts passion, violence, and gentleness. His hands made their way to your breasts hovering over them a bit too long. He was still afraid to touch you but you needed him to. You growled into his mouth, which sent him into overdrive, all his senses burning for you.

“Wrap your legs around me, love.”

He whispered against your lips. You followed his directions and he stood with you in his arms, turning to place you flat on your back on his bed. He knelt in front of the bed, where your legs hung over the edge, and took your left leg into his hands, gently kissing from your ankle up to your thigh. You writhed under his touch, his mouth being mere centimeters from your core.

“You’re beautiful, y/n. Thank you for letting me touch you like this.”

He whispered out and you gave him a sheepish smile.

“Are you sure you want this?”

He asked sweetly, breathing over the space where your thigh and vagina came together in an attempt to tease you.

“I’m sure.”

You breathed out, hands wrapping themselves in Rafe’s hair, pulling at the golden brown locks. At the sound of your permission, Rafe began kissing at your entrance, rubbing his thumb over your g spot ever so slowly. You wriggled under his large hands, groaning loudly when the sensation of his lips met your sensitive nub over and over.

You’re so utterly lost in the kisses, in the way his mouth feels against you that you almost forget to breathe.

“I’m gonna put a finger in baby, need you to tell me if it hurts, okay?”

You eagerly nodded and became undone as his finger bottomed out inside of you. Your eyes rolled in the back of your head.

“How’s that feeling, baby?”

“S-so g-good.”

You said, breathlessly.

“Gonna add another, baby. Tell me if it hurts.”

You again nodded as quickly as your head would move. He slid in another one of his long fingers, bottoming out inside of you, letting you adjust before beginning to move them back and forth, picking up the pace and curling his fingers as he felt you clench around his hand, reaching your climax.

“Rafe, I think I have to pee.”

You spoke sheepishly and he chuckled.

“That’s not pee, baby. That’s your body telling you that what we’re doing is making you feel good. You’re about to have your first orgasm.”

He smiled reassuringly and you gingerly nodded, again ashamed at your lack of knowledge and experience. Rafe pulled his fingers out of you and you missed the contact. You let out a tangled whine.

“It’s okay, baby. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Thank you so much for letting me touch you like this.”

You smiled at his reassurance, running his fingers through his hair as he placed kisses under your belly button, where your largest pump site scars resided.

“I love these scars, baby. I love you so much.”

“I love you, Rafael.”

With no warning, he plunges his tongue inside of your delicate entrance and you feel yourself clench around him, your stomach knotting up once more and your body chasing the high that he was giving you. You hoped what he said was true and that you weren’t about to pee in his mouth, as the damn was breaking around you and the knot within your stomach busted, releasing every feel-good hormone your body held. All you could see were stars as your vision blackened. You looked to Rafe after a moment, your chest heaving up and down. His pupils were blown, desire lacing them.

“How was that, beautiful?”

He questioned, looking up at you with a smirk as he placed kisses over your tummy once more.

“Let’s do it again, but this time, I want you inside me.”

You quipped in a serious tone. You needed him to know you were serious and you wanted him, all of him.

“As you wish, baby. Are you on the pill or do you want me to use a rubber?”

He asked gently.

“I’m on the pill, sweet boy. Thank you for asking, but I want to feel every inch of you.”

He simply nods in response and parts your legs a bit more, throwing your ankles over his shoulders as he positions himself in front of your entrance. You watch him, eagerly waiting for the moment he’s going to be inside of you. He hovers over your face, leaning his forehead against yours.

“Honey-, listen, this is going to hurt a bit, okay? But I promise it’ll feel better quickly. I need you to talk to me through it, okay? I need to know how you’re feeling the whole time.”

“Okay, baby. I promise.”

You smiled brightly up at the gorgeous man hanging his head over you, leaning up to kiss his nose.

“I’m ready, Rafael.”

He nodded and kissed you passionately on the lips, moving down the entirety of your jaw and neck before landing on your breasts, grazing them with his tongue. You sharply inhaled at the new sensation. He gently bit down, sucking at your hardened peak. You groaned loudly, letting him know to stop teasing you.

“Rafe-”

You all but yelled his name, letting him know he was frustrating you.

“Patience. Tell me what you need, baby.”

His voice remained sweet, he sensed your need for him.

“Put it in, already!”

You grunted and he let out a belly laugh.

“Okay, baby. All you had to do was ask.”

He smiled, lining his tip up with your entrance once more and gently pushing in. Before you could even process what had happened, tears leaked out of the sides of your eyes. He was big, much bigger than you had anticipated. Rafe leaned down, wiping your tears away.

“Am I hurting you, angel? You can tell me, I won’t be upset.”

“No, it’s just uncomfortable.”

He gingerly nodded, knowing what you meant.

“I know baby, I’m sorry. It’ll be over soon.”

He gently placed kisses all over your face while he bottomed out and waited for you to adjust to his size.

“Okay, you can start moving.”

You spoke, the feeling of his dick sending you into a euphoric state. Nothing has ever made you feel this good in your entire life. Rafe’s pace quickened as he pounded in and out of you. You felt the familiar knot grow in your stomach and threw your head back.

“How’s it feeling, pretty girl? You’re so pretty like this, baby. Thank you for letting me see you like this.”

“S-so good, Rafe.”

He hit you with another hard thrust, scraping against your sweet spot once more.

“Rafe, I’m gonna cum-”

You gasped.

“It’s okay, baby. I’m right behind you. Go ahead, angel.”

He whispered into your hairline as he leaned down, peppering kisses on your collarbones. The new position let him hit your sweet spot and you screamed out as the second wave of pleasure wracked through your body.

Rafael-, I love you so much.”

You screamed out as he held you, letting you ride out your orgasm. He kissed your forehead as you came down from your high. He pulled out of you, already missing the warmth.

“I love you too, sweet girl. Are you mine?”

“I’m your girl, forever.”

You breathed out against him, letting him run into the bathroom to grab something to clean up with before cuddling into his chest and falling into a blissful sleep.

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#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron prompt #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafecore #proclivity rafe #proclivity #rafe smut #rafe imagine #rafe <3 #rafe x reader smut #obx rafe cameron

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faithisyours · 2 days ago

Text

Blanket Fort

Vi X Fem!Reader

Ch 3 of The List

Previous chapters: Ch 1, Ch 2

Summary: you and Vi build a blanket fort

cw: pure, unadulterated fluff

word count: 1.4k

an: Howdy y'all! I humbly present chapter 3. Hope you enjoy it. Next chapter I'm gonna keep a surprise, but it includes some familiar faces ;) It also might take me a wee bit longer to write, but I’ll try to get it out within the week. And a big thanks again to my beta reader @mythsretriever, check her out, she’s pretty cool. Also, I’ve been requested to start a tag list, so let me know if you want to be added! And finally, if you have any requests for fics or ideas for this one, or just want to chat, I’m all ears! (Please, I want more friends on this app). Men & minors dni

The apartment windows rattled against the heavy rain and rolling thunder raging outside. Lightning lit up the stormy evening sky, casting flashes of light into the apartment. You and Vi were hauled up because of this, but it didn’t matter much to you. You were happy to be home with the love of your life for a night off.

You were in the kitchen making dinner (it was your turn), Vi sat watching you from the kitchen island. You were making soup, one of your specialties, because Vi was feeling a bit under the weather, having been fighting a small cold for the past couple days (more than likely caused by the fact that she had just been naked in a lake on a chilly fall night with you a little less than a week ago). You felt slightly guilty, considering you were the one that had taken her to go skinny dipping, as well as the fact that you had not gotten sick at all. You resolved to make her soup; it was the least you could do.

Vi was still keeping the list close, although she had shared some of her ideas and asked you for some more recently. It was a good thing, too, because you had started to think she was instead just writing a novel.

You were adding the last of the spices to the pot of soup in front of you when Vi asked, “Have you ever made a blanket fort?”

Caught slightly off guard, but recovering quickly you answered, “I have…”

“I know it’s not a very teenager thing to do, but I’ve never made one and I added it to the list a while ago,” she said, eying you hesitantly.

“... so you want to make a blanket fort?” you asked, a small smile creeping onto your lips.

“Ya, and I thought maybe today, since the weath-”

“Sold!” You cut her off.

“Dinner first, of course,” Vi reassured.

You shot her a smile over your shoulder. “Of course.”

You ate at the kitchen table, the soup being accompanied by garlic bread. Vi practically moaned around her fist bite, which made your insides feel fuzzy. You talked about upcoming plans, errands you both needed to run, shows you wanted to watch together; just mundane, domestic things. When you both were done eating, Vi helped you clean up the kitchen, growing more and more antsy by the second. She was practically jumping off the walls by the time you finished wiping the counter down.

“Hmm,” you looked around the kitchen, tapping your chin with your finger, “I feel like I forgot to do something.” Of course, you had forgotten nothing, and instead were prolonging Vi’s anticipation for your own enjoyment. She caught on when you couldn’t keep your sly smile contained.

“You forgot nothing, it’s blanket fort time!” she practically screamed. She grabbed you by the arm, pulling you towards the living room, but eventually stopped, realizing she didn’t actually know what she was doing. She looked around, looking a little hopeless, then turned her eyes on you. “Okay, tell me what we need,” she prompted, her hands open in front of her, ready to grab the first thing you say.

“Well, we’re gonna need blankets, sheets probably, the kitchen chairs, pillows, maybe some books, and the broom, probably.” She stared at you blankly for a second, processing, then leapt into action. Vi ran in the direction of the linen closet, so you went over to the kitchen to collect the chairs.

You were arranging the chairs in front of the couch, two on each side facing away from the space in the middle, when Vi came back with more than an armful of blankets and sheets. It looked as though she had ransacked the entire apartment, taking blankets from anywhere including your bed. You giggled at her overzealousness, and moved quickly to help take some of the blankets she had gathered.

“Looks like you found every blanket and sheet we own,” you said, amused. “That's good, though. We’ll probably need them all.” You set them down in a pile in front of the area you had designated to be the floor of the fort, which was in front of the couch and directly in line with the TV. Vi surveyed the space, nodding, then looked towards you for the next step. “Okay, first we should cover these chairs with sheets to make our walls. And we might need something heavy like books to keep them in place,” you said. It had been quite some time since you built a blanket fort, but it was all starting to come back to you now.

Vi got right to it, pulling one of the sheets from the pile and draping it over each pair of chairs. You went over to the coffee table (which you had earlier pushed against the wall to make enough space for the fort) and grabbed the books that sat atop it. You put a book on each seat, which held the sheets in place and prevented them from slipping. It was all coming together nicely.

Catching on, Vi asked, “Should we put some blankets down on the floor to make it comfy?” you nodded, happy she was starting to get it. Arranging a sheet down first over top of the area rug, you then layed down two comforters and lined the makeshift walls with pillows, making sure the biggest and comfiest went against the foot of the couch. You both added some extra blankets to snuggle up with once you were settled in the fort later. And then it came time for the roof. Working together, you pulled sheets across the chairs, using multiple to make sure there were no gaps and to ensure the fort was dark inside. Adding some finishing touches, like some electric candles and a small camping lantern, as well as a couple more pillows and blankets, the fort was complete. It wasn’t by any means the best blanket fort ever made, but it got the job done, and by the grin on Vi’s face, you'd say it was basically perfect.

“Ready to get in?” you asked Vi, who didn’t even give you an answer before launching herself into the fort. You couldn’t contain your giggle as you followed her in, albeit more calmly. It was a tight fit, but curling yourself up around Vi created some wiggle room. Vi threw a couple blankets across your tangled legs and settled into the pillows, pulling you closer by the waist.

The top of the sheet roof plus the angle you were positioned made for a perfect view of the TV, which was exactly what you had hoped for.

“Want to watch a movie?” you both asked simultaneously, which then made you laugh. So predictable.

“I chose last time, so it’s your turn,” Vi offered.

You thought for a second. “Pride and Prejudice (2005),” you said. Vi had already thumbed through and pulled it up on the screen.

“So predictable,” she whispered, shaking her head as a crooked smile appeared.

You gave her a playful shove in the side. “You know I like the classics. And anyway, Mr. Darcy reminds me of you.”

She scoffed. “How so?”

“Well, he’s proud, loyal, charming in a goofy way, and I find him rather pretty, especially when he smiles. And you share all of those traits,” you said. “But I will say your hands are much hotter than his.”

Vi attempted to play off your words, but a small blush crept across her cheeks. “Alright, let’s just start the movie,” she said, nodding towards the TV.

You kissed Vi’s shoulder, smiling up at her. “This was a great idea.” you said, and then proceeded to sneeze.

“Oh no, I gave you my sickness, didn’t I?” Vi looked at you apologetically. You just shook your head, snuggling back into her and turning your attention to the movie. It didn’t matter to you if Vi got you sick. You’d happily get her germs if it meant getting to also snuggle up with her to watch a movie while it stormed outside.

Eventually, though, and rather predictably, the combination of the movie, the storm, Vi’s warm body beneath you, and the comfort of the fort all lulled you into sleep. It looked like you’d be sleeping in the living room tonight. And there was nowhere you’d rather be.

Ko-fi

Tag list✨: @usuck @saqqarasdissent

#vi arcane #vi arcane fic #fluff #vi fanfic #arcane league of legends #arcane league of lesbians #vi fanfiction #vi fluff #vi x reader #arcane #lesbian #wlw fanfic #wlw post

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isuckatwritingsobenice · 3 days ago

Note

could you write Alastor, husk, & vox with a reader that can turn into a black hole + when in that form speaks in a language only they can understand

A/N: Thank you so much for your request!! I actually found this concept really interesting, so when you said in a language only they can understand, i’m assuming you mean whoever the reader is speaking too! I hope I got that part right! I’m splitting this into 3 parts, so one for Alastor, one for Husk and one for Vox, since I wrote this as a story and not headcannons!

Warnings: Losing control

Navigation!!

Void

Alastor X Reader

The first time Alastor witnessed your transformation, he was delighted, in the way only Alastor could be—his perpetual grin stretching impossibly wider, his crimson eyes practically glowing with intrigue.

It had been a mundane evening at the Hazbin Hotel, relatively speaking. You had joined the growing cast of misfits seeking redemption, though your reasons for being there remained elusive, as mysterious as the swirling abyss you could become. Most of the other residents had learned to keep their distance after a few demonstrations of your powers—nothing personal, of course. They just preferred not to risk being sucked into oblivion.

But Alastor? He was not like the others.

He had been lounging near the bar, recounting one of his many lively (and possibly fabricated) tales when you first shifted into your void form. One moment, you had been sitting silently in the corner, watching the room with an air of detachment. The next, space and time bent around you, reality twisting as your human form collapsed into an ever-consuming black hole. The room darkened, the air grew heavy, and every sound seemed to stretch into an eerie, warped hum.

Alastor froze mid-sentence, his voice cutting off with a crackling burst of static. His ever-present grin faltered for a fraction of a second before returning, broader and more manic than before.

“Oh-ho! What have we here?” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together with childlike glee. “A walking singularity! Now, this is entertainment!”

The others scrambled to retreat, chairs screeching as they pushed back from the force of your gravitational pull. Husk cursed under his breath, Angel Dust muttered something about how he wasn’t paid enough for this, and Niffty darted off to fetch a mop, though she wasn’t sure why.

But Alastor? He stepped closer.

“You’ve been holding out on us, dear!” he said, his voice crackling with the static undertones that accompanied his excitement. “Why, this is the most marvelous display of power I’ve seen in ages! Tell me, does it hurt? Does it feel? Oh, I simply must know!”

You didn’t answer—not in a way he could understand, at least. In this form, your voice was something alien, a chorus of layered tones that echoed in impossible ways. The language you spoke was older than stars, a dialect of the cosmos itself, incomprehensible to mortal minds.

Alastor tilted his head, his grin never wavering. “Ah, a riddle, is it? A puzzle for me to solve! Excellent! I do so enjoy a challenge.”

His fascination with you only grew after that. While others treated your abilities with a mix of awe and fear, Alastor saw them as an opportunity—a new kind of chaos to explore, a mystery to unravel. He began seeking you out more often, peppering you with questions about your nature, your abilities, your purpose.

“You’re an anomaly, my dear,” Alastor said one evening, his voice low and crackling as he leaned against the counter in the hotel’s kitchen. You were seated across from him, nursing a cup of something warm—though you couldn’t quite recall what it was. He had insisted on brewing it for you, claiming it was a “family recipe,” though the liquid had a peculiar, almost radioactive glow.

“Even in a place as delightfully twisted as Hell, you stand out,” he continued, his crimson eyes locked onto yours. “And trust me, that’s not an easy feat!”

You raised an eyebrow, sipping cautiously from the mug. “And you don’t find that… unsettling?”

“Unsettling? Oh, no, no, no!” He waved a hand dismissively, his laughter crackling like static. “Why, I find it fascinating! Your powers, your language, your very existence—it’s all so delightfully… unusual.”

He leaned in closer, his grin widening. “Tell me, what’s it like? Being a black hole, I mean. Do you feel the weight of eternity pressing down on you? Or is it more of a tingly sensation?”

You hesitated, unsure how to answer. Explaining your experiences in human terms was always difficult, especially when so much of it was tied to that otherworldly form. “It’s… hard to describe,” you said finally. “It’s like being everything and nothing all at once. Like holding the universe in the palm of your hand, but also being crushed by its weight.”

Alastor’s eyes sparkled with intrigue. “Marvelous!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “Absolutely marvelous! You truly are a walking paradox, aren’t you?”

Despite his fascination, there were moments when Alastor’s cheerful facade slipped—moments when he found himself unnerved by the sheer otherness of your existence.

It happened late one night, during one of your transformations. The two of you had been walking through the forest outside the hotel, your conversation drifting from idle chatter to deeper, more philosophical musings. Alastor had been regaling you with tales of his past life when you suddenly stopped, your expression shifting into something distant.

“What’s wrong, dear?” he asked, his tone still light but tinged with curiosity.

“I can feel it,” you murmured, your voice barely audible. “The pull. It’s… calling to me.”

Before he could ask what you meant, your form began to shift, your body collapsing into that familiar void. The trees around you bent and twisted, their leaves disintegrating into specks of light as they were drawn into your gravitational pull. The ground trembled, and the air grew cold.

Alastor stepped back, his grin faltering as he watched the transformation. For the first time, he felt a pang of something he couldn’t quite identify—was it fear? Awe? A strange mix of both?

As the void consumed the space around you, Alastor hesitated. It was unlike him to falter, but this wasn’t something he could charm or laugh away. The sheer force of your transformation sent waves of static through his form, warping his normally unshakable composure.

And yet, even as reality seemed to unravel, Alastor didn’t leave.

Instead, he forced a grin back onto his face and planted his cane firmly into the ground, steadying himself against the pull. “Well now, this is certainly… dramatic! Are you trying to scare me, dear? Because I must admit, you’re doing a marvelous job!”

Your voice echoed from the void, an otherworldly chorus that sent shivers down his spine. Though he couldn’t understand the words, the tone was unmistakable—anguish, frustration, longing.

Despite the danger, he took a step forward, his crimson eyes blazing with determination. “If you think I’m going to run away, you’re sorely mistaken!” he called out, his voice carrying above the deafening hum of your transformation. “I’ve faced worse than this, my dear, and I’ll be damned—again—if I let a little cosmic chaos get in the way of a good conversation!”

His words seemed to reach you, cutting through the void. Slowly, the pull began to weaken, the distorted reality around you settling into something closer to normal. When you finally reformed, collapsing to your knees in exhaustion, Alastor was already there, offering a hand to help you up.

“There we are!” he said cheerfully, his grin returning in full force. “Back to your charming, corporeal self. Now, care to explain what all that was about?”

You hesitated, still catching your breath. “It’s… hard to control sometimes,” you admitted. “The pull is always there, always calling to me. It’s like a part of me wants to let go, to become the void completely.”

Alastor’s grin faltered ever so slightly, his crimson eyes narrowing as he considered your words. “And if you did?” he asked, his tone unusually serious. “What would happen to you?”

“I don’t know,” you said quietly. “Maybe I’d disappear. Maybe I’d become something else entirely. I don’t know if I’d even remember who I am.”

For a moment, Alastor was silent, his gaze fixed on you. Then, his grin returned, though there was a flicker of something softer beneath it.

“Well, we can’t have that now, can we?” he said, his voice light and cheerful once more. “I’d miss your delightful company far too much! Besides, who else in this wretched place could possibly keep up with me?”

Over time, your relationship with Alastor deepened. He continued to push your boundaries, always seeking to learn more about your abilities and the mysteries of your existence. But he also showed a surprising amount of care, stepping in to ground you when the pull of the void became too strong.

For Alastor, your powers were a constant source of fascination—but they also reminded him of something he rarely allowed himself to feel: vulnerability. Your ability to distort reality, to consume everything around you, was a stark contrast to his carefully maintained control. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to stay away.

One evening, as the two of you sat in the lounge of the hotel, Alastor turned to you with an uncharacteristically serious expression.

“You know,” he said, his voice low and crackling, “I’ve always believed in the power of chaos. It’s what makes life… interesting. But you, my dear, you’re something else entirely. You’re not just chaos—you’re the end of it.”

You frowned, unsure how to respond. “Is that… a bad thing?”

“Not at all!” he said quickly, his grin returning. “If anything, it makes you all the more fascinating. But it does make me wonder…” He leaned in closer, his crimson eyes locking onto yours. “What happens if you lose control? If you give in to the pull?”

You hesitated, the weight of his question settling over you. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “But I don’t want to find out.”

Alastor nodded, his grin softening ever so slightly. “Good,” he said. “Because as much as I enjoy a good bit of chaos, I’d rather not see you disappear into that abyss of yours. You’re far too entertaining for that.”

As time went on, you and Alastor developed an unspoken understanding. He became your anchor, the one person who could pull you back when the void threatened to consume you. And in turn, you became his reminder that even chaos has its limits, that there are forces in the universe greater than even the Radio Demon.

One night, as you stood together on the roof of the hotel, gazing out at the endless expanse of Hell, Alastor turned to you with a rare moment of sincerity.

“You know,” he said, his voice low and crackling, “I’ve always believed in keeping people at arm’s length. It’s easier that way. Less messy.”

He glanced at you, his crimson eyes softening. “But you… you’re different. You’re the first person who’s ever made me question that.”

You smiled, the weight of his words settling over you. “I could say the same about you,” you said quietly.

Alastor chuckled softly, his laughter crackling like faint static. “Well, well, aren’t we just full of surprises tonight?” He rested his hands on his cane and tilted his head to gaze at you, his crimson eyes gleaming in the dim light. “Tell me, dear, do you think it’s possible for two anomalies like us to coexist? You, a walking singularity, and me, well… me?”

You turned to face him fully, the void inside you stirring faintly as if in response to his question. “I don’t know,” you admitted honestly, your voice barely above a whisper. “But maybe that’s the point. Maybe it’s not about knowing—it’s about trying.”

The wind picked up, carrying with it the faint sounds of Hell’s chaos below. Alastor was quiet for a moment, a rare occurrence that made you feel like you’d caught a glimpse of the man behind the showman’s mask. Then, slowly, his ever-present grin returned, though there was a gentleness to it now, a softness you hadn’t seen before.

“Trying, you say?” he mused, tapping his cane lightly against the roof. “Well, my dear, I’ve always been a fan of a good challenge. And if anyone is worth the effort, it’s you.”

He extended a hand toward you, his crimson eyes glittering with mischief and something deeper, something unspoken. “Shall we see where this little experiment of ours takes us?”

You hesitated for only a moment before placing your hand in his. His grip was firm but surprisingly warm, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected.

“Let’s find out,” you said softly, a small smile tugging at your lips.

The days that followed were a strange blend of chaos and calm. Alastor, true to his nature, continued to push your limits, always eager to test the boundaries of your abilities. He would encourage you to transform in controlled environments, claiming it was “for science” or “just for the fun of it.”

“Come now, my dear!” he’d exclaim, standing a safe distance away as you began to shift into your void form. “Think of it as a performance! And remember, the key to a good show is keeping your audience on the edge of their seats!”

You rolled your eyes but complied, finding a strange comfort in his enthusiasm. Though his methods were unorthodox, his presence had a way of grounding you, keeping you tethered to yourself even as the void threatened to take over.

But it wasn’t always easy. There were moments when the pull became too strong, when you felt yourself slipping further and further into the abyss. During those times, Alastor was your constant, his voice cutting through the chaos like a lifeline.

“Focus, my dear!” he’d call out, his tone sharp but steady. “Remember who you are! You’re not just the void—you’re you!”

And somehow, against all odds, his words always managed to pull you back.

One evening, as you sat together in the lounge, Alastor surprised you by asking a question that seemed almost… vulnerable.

“Do you ever wonder,” he began, his voice softer than usual, “if there’s a reason for all of this? For what we are?”

You glanced at him, surprised by the uncharacteristic seriousness in his tone. “Sometimes,” you admitted. “But I try not to dwell on it too much. It’s… overwhelming.”

Alastor nodded, his crimson eyes distant. “Yes, overwhelming indeed,” he murmured. “But I can’t help but think that perhaps there’s a purpose to it all. That maybe, just maybe, we were meant to find each other in this delightful little hellscape.”

His words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. Then, slowly, you reached out and placed a hand on his, offering him a small, reassuring smile.

“Maybe we were,” you said quietly.

For a brief moment, the two of you sat in silence, the weight of the unspoken connection between you hanging in the air. It was a rare, fleeting moment of vulnerability, one that neither of you would forget.

As your bond with Alastor deepened, so too did your understanding of each other. He taught you to embrace your powers, to see them not as a curse but as a part of who you were. And in turn, you showed him that even in the midst of chaos, there could be moments of connection, of understanding, of something almost like peace.

But the void inside you was always there, a constant presence that neither of you could ignore. One day, as you stood together on the edge of a cliff overlooking the endless expanse of Hell, you turned to Alastor with a question that had been weighing on your mind.

“Do you think I’ll ever lose control?” you asked, your voice barely audible over the howling wind.

Alastor was silent for a moment, his crimson eyes fixed on the horizon. Then, slowly, he turned to you, his grin softening into something almost genuine.

“If you do,” he said, his voice steady, “then I’ll be there to pull you back. Every time.”

The sincerity in his tone caught you off guard, and for a moment, you felt the pull of the void lessen, the weight of eternity lifting just enough for you to breathe.

“Thank you,” you said softly, your voice filled with a gratitude you couldn’t quite put into words.

Alastor chuckled, his grin widening. “No need to thank me, my dear. After all, what’s a little cosmic chaos between friends?”

Your story with Alastor wasn’t perfect—it was messy, unpredictable, and filled with moments of doubt and fear. But through it all, one thing remained constant: the bond you shared.

Alastor, with his unrelenting charm and boundless curiosity, became your anchor, your constant in a world that often felt like it was spiraling out of control. And you, with your otherworldly powers and quiet strength, became his reminder that even the most chaotic forces could be tempered by connection.

Together, you learned to navigate the delicate balance between chaos and stability, between the void and the light. And though the future remained uncertain, one thing was clear: whatever lay ahead, you would face it together.

For even in the heart of the void, there was a spark of something greater—a connection that defied the odds, a bond that transcended the chaos. And in that, there was hope.

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin demon #alastor

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jeonscatalyst · 3 days ago

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Hey May! I miss you so much. I noticed you haven’t been posting alot recently and I miss your very insightful posts. Please come back to meeeeee (in rm’s voice) 😭.

So when you do come back (which I hope is soon) could we please talk about Jikook’s numerous inside jokes/ memes and how that is beyond proof of their closeness? I was rewatching AYS and I swear I was floored by how much they just get each other. The way certain things just comes very naturally to them and the way sometimes you can clearly tell they are holding back. I must say I don’t know what kind of relationship those two have but whatever it is, it is so beautiful.

Hey anon.

Over the past 2-3 months, my life has been busier than usual, which is why I haven’t been as active here as I’d like. I truly miss posting daily and engaging more frequently, but I should be back to my regular schedule soon. I also have a lot of unanswered messages in my inbox, and I’ll answer them as soon as possible.

You’re absolutely right about Jikook and their inside jokes or memes. This is one of the most compelling pieces of evidence of how close they are. It’s hard to imagine two people having so many shared inside jokes or effortlessly understanding and acting out memes together unless they spend a lot of time together and share a unique bond. The ability to share inside jokes or effortlessly pick up on the same memes shows a level of comfort and understanding that goes beyond surface interactions. Jikook find it easier to read each other’s cues or anticipate each other’s reactions, which reflects their emotional alignment.

One of my favorite aspects of AYS was seeing this dynamic between them. While it wasn’t the first time most Jikookers noticed their abundance of inside jokes, AYS made it more apparent…even to those in the fandom who usually overlook Jikook as a duo. It was impossible to ignore how their bond stood out. It’s also clear that most people around them don’t fully grasp their humor or references. For example, we saw Tae in AYS, often clueless about what Jikook were up to or even Jin who couldn’t help but ask what they were talking about when they were jikooking on Weverse a few weeks back. Let’s not even get into all the other times those two have left members perplexed at their antics. Jimin and Jungkook share a unique connection that stems from shared experiences and an emotional resonance.

There are many things people can fake, but the kind of connection they share isn’t one of them. AYS highlighted how well they understand each other, their shared interests, and how seamlessly they get along. This is something Jikookers have always recognized, but thanks to AYS, it’s now undeniable to the rest of the fandom as it was as clear as day. Those two share a dynamic that is distinctively theirs and this is a hill I am willing to die on.

#jikook #jungkook #jimin #are you sure #my asks #jikook blog

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ilysungho · 1 day ago

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Hello, how are you? I don't remember if you answered any questions about boynextdoor being more about boobs or butts and maybe thighs, if not I would love to hear your opinion on this. Thank you😁

hi love, i’m good! i hope you are too 🫶 i haven’t answered that yet so dw! it became a bit long so it’s all under the cut. enjoy and let me know what you think <3

sungho - tits, thighs

sungho strikes me as the type to want to face you during initimate moments, so as long as he can look at your expressions, anything is fine. this is why i think he’d be into tits more than ass (though he doesn’t mind the latter)! and i was talking to cee earlier about how he’d be such a thigh guy… always holding on them or having his head buried between them while eating you out 🤭

riwoo - tits, ass

i see riwoo as being into both boobs and ass, whether it be dom or sub! i can imagine how when he’d want to be in control, he’d have you doggy style while one hand holds your waist and the other spanks you. and from spanking, he’d love to see your pretty plump butt all red from the impact. on the other hand, sub riwoo would want to bury his face into your chest as you ride him to the edge (also big on boob fucking).

jaehyun - ass

idk like it’s just something about him… he’d be SO into it. you both would be in public and he has you attached to his hip and groping your ass. he’d even tell you he prefers for you to wear bottoms which make it easier for him to grab it. he has no shame in doing so in public either while making out in the corner of some street.

taesan - HEAVY on tits, thighs

first of all, i understand the ass lover allegations he has from how he grabs everyone’s butts. BUT i think with you, he’s wanting to just be engulfed by your thighs. whether it be his waist or his face, he can’t get enough of them. he’d definitely mark your thighs a lot before tongue fucking you. and his fingers are always playing with your nipples if his mouth isn’t on them. he’s so into marking and would color your body in so many shades of pink and purple, his muse and canvas 💗

leehan - ass

much like riwoo, leehan would be into spanking you. and i’ve mentioned this so many times already, but he’d definitely have toys for you too. paddles and flogs would be used for spanking punishments when the session is serious, otherwise his hand is enough. his favorite positions would also be ones where he can see your ass go up and down on him, as well as all the marks he’s left there <3

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cokoakeostuff · 2 days ago

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So like..

This isn't really a ask, but I just want you to know you have the most beautiful art style I've ever seen! I hope you have an amazing day/night!

Thank you 🥺 Honestly, I’m still surprised that so many people liked my art style. I never would’ve thought it.

Im super slow at answering but tysm really <3 have a beautiful day or night too

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elephantshoetoo · 2 days ago

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Hey there! Loved the recent YT video of yours. Um, Let's dive straight to the question.

First, I am a massive Byler believer. (all for the right reasons, I believe) But recently I keep seeing posts on "why Byler isn't happening" and the reason people usually drop is "the story is set on 80s, it was a difficult time to be gay"--- And I'm like, 1. well, it's mainly a fictional show. there isn't upside down or at least we have yet to find that to be true . so writers can do what they like. 2. just because 80s was a difficult time to express openly to others that they were gay doesn't mean people didn't fall in love and decided to love and live with each other for the rest of their lives. 3. am I really watching the same show with the rest of the world? am i overanalyzing it? or am I really gonna be kicked on the stomach when Season 5 releases (which I hope releases soon, every day of wait is killing me) What's your take on this? Hopefully you'd answer. I rarely open Tumbler but I will come back for your answer. Lots of Love, A Fellow ST Fan

Ooh, thank you for your question - this is my first real ask. I'm so excited 😊

Take heart, dear Byler shipper. This is a show for the underdogs, a show about fighting against forced conformity and righting the wrongs of the past.

I grew up in the 80's, and yes, gay people existed, though many of them were closeted out of fear or denial. I had gay friends and dated several gay guys, so I do understand why people might think it would be unrealistic for Byler to happen, but yeah, it's a sci-fi show, not a documentary. It's not about realism or showing how it was. It's about showing how it should be (in the end), so I don't think the time period is going to stop them.

In fact, I think the time period is significant. I think the monsters and the Upside Down are all symbolic of the horrors of growing up as a gay person in a place and time that was hostile towards them.

But also...

The first Pride celebration in Indiana happened in Indianapolis in 1987.

1987.

Why does that date sound familiar...? Oh, yes. That's when most of ST 5 takes place - the year of their first Pride celebration. Hmm... Coincidence?

And Byler can happen without them coming out to the whole town. They could keep it amongst their friends and family, the way Robin has only told Steve so far. Nobody doubts Rovickie happening, even though they are also gay in the 80's (making those arguments against Byler completely invalid). Vickie has far less queer coding than Mike Wheeler and is also in a straight relationship, but everyone sees it coming after only a few flirty scenes, because nobody knows or cares about Vickie's boyfriend or had any preconceived ideas about her character that they now have to adjust. People don't like adjusting their preconceived ideas. It makes them uncomfortable. It makes them question the safety of their familiar little world and forces them to expand their minds. Growth is never easy.

But... if they don't already see the queer coding behind Mike and all the hints that Byler is on the horizon... adjusting their preconceived ideas would actually explain Mike's whole character arc, the "journey" he's been on and the weird behavior that makes no sense through any other lens. That airport "hug"? Pretending to ignore Will all day while furtively glancing at him and noticing every little thing he does? Classic crush behaviour. It's so obvious unless you're straight-up in denial. They've used so many of the traditional romantic tropes (love triangle, boy-next-door, "just friends" to lovers, Cyrano De Bergerac, etc...), yet people refuse to see it because Byler isn't a traditional couple.

So, yeah... It's a story. It can do whatever it wants. If it's a good story - which I believe it is - it will pick up all these breadcrumbs it's laid down and follow them to a satisfying conclusion. Otherwise, what would have been the point? Why have Will believe he's never going to fall in love? Why have him fall in love with Mike specifically, and leave a whole bunch of hints that Mike returns his feelings, making the audience root for them, if that's not where they're planning to take this? It would make no sense at all and be sloppy storytelling, imo.

Thank you so much for your question, and for watching our YouTube video! I hope this cures you of any Byler doubt.

Love,

Byler Mom

💙💛💚

#byler #stranger things #byler endgame #will byers #mike wheeler #mike wheeler loves will byers #will byers loves mike wheeler #asks #byler theory #byler mom

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calware · 19 hours ago

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hi swimz you don’t have to post or answer this ask at all i just wanted to say i love and appreciate you for being friends with me this long. also sorry about all the everything. every time i visit your blog you are dealing with one of hercules’s trials or recounting something like that. you are god’s strongest soldier

thank you so much this is so sweet of you to say :')!! you're so awesome i'm really glad i've gotten to be your friend i hope you are doing well <3

#ask #sayakamikian

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fallstaticexit · 2 days ago

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Hello! First off I wanted to say I LOVEEE your stories! I’ve been following you since you started the Briar legacy on tt and I loved watching your story telling and how much thought goes into all of your stories even if they are short stories.

I’ve been obsessed with your version of princess Cordelia! She literally looks like a disney princess and she is so so gorg. I wanted to ask wcif the bun hair that Cordelia wears in the third part of the story? Idk if you already answered this but I wanted to ask just in case! Again love love love your stories and can’t wait to see what you do in the future! Have a good day/night! <3

Hi! Thank you so so much :) <3 I very much enjoy sharing them and glad you enjoy reading them! I hope you have a great day or night as well!

You can find the hair here <- (TSR)

#wcif #pct

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haveyouusedthispokemon · 6 hours ago

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Hey, hope you’re well. I was wondering if you’d be able to share the top six pokemon used in each gen? It’d be interesting to see the most used teams.

I am, thank you, I hope you are as well!

I'd be happy to ^^ I usually put the top three in each Stat Post I do, but top 6 to make a team makes a lot of sense!

I'll list my parameters below, then the teams! Let me know if there's any adjustments you'd like ^^

If we're looking to make a team, I'll skip over any repeats in evolution line (i.e. if Ivysaur is most popular, I'll skip over Bulbasaur and Venusaur)

I'll separate it into two categories; By Percentage and By Vote. By Percentage is the overall combined 'yes' answers in comparison to total votes received, where By Vote is the total combined 'yes' votes

Since Gen 8 & 9 are still ongoing, we'll just do Gen 1-7 for now!

By Percentage

Gen 1: Eevee, Bulbasaur, Gyarados, Pikachu, Charmander, Zubat

Gen 2: Cyndaquil, Togepi, Mareep, Crobat, Umbreon, Chikorita

Gen 3: Ralts, Roselia, Mudkip, Combusken, Treecko, Poocheyena

Gen 4: Shinx, Lucario, Piplup, Starly, Budew, Turtwig

Gen 5: Oshawott, Snivy, Litwick, Sandile, Zoroark, Lillipup

Gen 6: Fletchling, Fennekin, Sylveon, Froakie, Goomy, Noibat

Gen 7: Rowlet, Rockruff, Popplio, Litten, Pikipek, A.Vulpix

By Vote

Gen 1: Eevee, Bulbasaur, Charmander, Pikachu, Gyarados, Pidgey

Gen 2: Mareep, Cyndaquil, Totodile, Crobat, Umbreon, Togetic

Gen 3: Treecko, Gardevoir, Mudkip, Torchic, Mightyena, Zigzagoon

Gen 4: Lucario, Togekiss, Luxray, Garchomp, Empoleon, Chimchar

Gen 5: Sewaddle, Oshawott, Snivy, Pidove, Scolipede, Zoroark

Gen 6: Sylveon, Fennekin, Gogoat, Fletchling, Xerneas, Froakie

Gen 7: Decidueye, Lycanroc, Primarina, Salazzle, Litten, Mimikyu

Some possible adjustments I could make is to limit certain things, like only one starter, no repeat types, or something of that nature, if you'd like more variety or a more feasible team

#not a poll #doctorpleasant #pokestats #if people like this idea i'll add it to the regular stat posts

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slutsareteacherstoo · 3 days ago

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I Hope Part 4A - Terry Richmond x Black OC

Black Fem! OC - Savannah (dark skinned, curvy, and disabled) x Terry Richmond (Gentle!Terry, Sweet!Terry, Nervous!Terry)

(I gotta get better at these tags, suggestions welcome!)

Summary: Savannah works an (unplanned) Saturday shift and has to cover a program unexpectedly (Terry not in here....yet)

Warnings/Things of Note: Mentions/glimpses of disability, medications, shoutout to Black lesbians, divorce, disordered eating, libraries (you should have a card if you don't)

Word count: 2K+ (2,660)

Author’s Note: Hi y'all. Thank you for your patience. The air quality was better today so like I could actually think and do things. I was checking in with folks. I got sidetracked and forgot about the time sksk. This is gonna be part Aof the part since I promised by 9 and it's almost 10. Imma have to go back and fix the tags and warnings probably so if there's something I missed lmk. It was also kinda not proofread, so lmk if I missed anything.

Okay y'all lemme go back to finishing the rest.

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4B]

The trilling of a phone alarm rang through Savannah’s bedroom, startling her awake. Pillows and blankets were thrown askew, some falling to the floor. She reached toward the nightstand to silence her phone. With weary eyes, she looked at the blazing screen with the time of 6:30am on display. This was too early for a Saturday morning. She put on her glasses and swung her body to the side of the bed, counting mentally for 30 seconds before rising with a groan.

Savannah made her way to the bathroom, wincing as she turned on the light and at the overwhelming urge to pee. After flushing and washing her hands, she began her morning routine: water flossing, electric toothbrush, mouthwash. Wiping her mouth with a towel, she looked at herself in the mirror. She was NOT supposed to be up this early for a Saturday. Savannah had volunteered to cover for her coworker, Desiree, whose child had an important meet today. This was the sixth day of the week she was going to be working at the library, and right now she resolved to never volunteer herself again. Even if it was time and a half.

Reminding herself of her bonnet and the hair she needed to take care of underneath it, she grabbed her plush, forest green rolling chair and sat. Savannah pulled off the bonnet and felt her hair with two hands. She softly stretched it and wondered how she’d do it today. Saturdays were normally wash days but Savannah didn’t have time for that. The reminder ping to take her medicine only emphasized that. The mirror cabinet swung open to reveal prescription medications, supplements, painkillers, a first aid kit, alcohol, hydrogen peroxide and 2 mini water bottles specifically to ensure she wouldn’t dry swallow. It was hard not to. Savannah downed her meds and supplements. She didn’t touch the painkillers, resolving that maybe her liver deserved a break.

Savannah closed the mirror and stared at herself again. Deep brown skin with hints of gold was looking a bit paler and the under eye circles, courtesy of her glasses and general fatigue were looking a bit more prominent than usual. Who would ever choose to be up at this god awful time on a Saturday morning? The answer to her mental thought was answered by Hip Hop Harry’s, “I Love to Learn”, the signature ringtone from none other than her best friend, Marisol. Grad school classmates turned librarian coworkers, the two had been inseparable since. Savannah glanced at the phone and saw it was a video call of all things. Savannah rolled her eyes and accepted it.

“Why are you calling my phone this early in the morning?” Savannah grumbled and absentmindedly adjusted her glasses.

“Well, good morning to you, Miss Sunshine. You can’t greet?” Marisol said in a mocking tone, a thick eyebrow raised and fully lashed eye moving closer to the screen.

Savannah was fighting the urge to smile and laugh. Seeing Marisol’s face —round, dark brown with cool red undertones, and never without pink blush always made her smile. Her deep red hair was braided down in two plaits with pink bows at the ends and her silver septum ring glinting in the light.

Savannah responded with an eyeroll and Marisol smacked her lips, glossy lined in black, “Tuh. Don’t be mad at me for trying to make sure you got up early this morning and make it to work on time.” Marisol was being playful.

“I’m up aren’t I?” Savannah retorted, “How are you already ready this early? It’s not even 7 yet!”

“Well, I had a bit of an early start,” Marisol said with the bite of her lip and looking across her shoulder. Savannah couldn’t see more than her friend’s face in the frame but the low, morning voice that followed was hint enough at what gave her best friend that morning espresso.

“Good morning, Savannah,” Demi, Marisol’s partner, responded before coming into view. Her dark brown locs were up in a bun and sweatband covered her tapered hairline. It looked like she was heading out for her morning run. Demi gave Marisol a quick kiss on the cheek, joining Marisol in the frame; her brown skin was beaming at the sight of Savannah’s best friend.

“Eww,” Savannah responded, eyes wide with fake disgust and but also genuine awe. She didn’t know how they had the energy and so early in the morning. Now it was Demi and Marisol’s turn to roll their eyes and scoff. The three of them let out a laugh. Savannah went back to observing herself in the mirror. She didn’t know what she was going to do with her hair.

“Put it in a puff,” Demi said, catching Savannah off guard. Savannah looked back at the screen again. “Put in a puff and slap on a bandanna,” Demi repeated with the sip of her coffee mug.

Savannah liked Demi a lot. She was the favorite of Marisol’s partners over the years. And while Savannah hated unsolicited advice, Demi’s was never wrong and always gave it at the right time.

“Yeah. I agree. Just get a big scrunchie or an old headband and tie that thing back. You won't have to worry about it the whole day.” Marisol added.

Savannah nodded in agreement. She’d just deal with it tomorrow. She reached under the sink for one of her organizers. It had the detangling spray, wide tooth comb, clips, gel, brush and scrunchie she needed. Savannah began the puff process while responding to the lovely couple: light spray, section, clip, comb, clip again.

“Thank you for calling me though. I was so close to giving Blue Monday on a Saturday,” Savannah said while shaking her head.

“I know! That’s why I did. I don’t know why you agreed to cover for Desiree anyways.”

“It’s time and a half.”

“So?”

”So?! Being disabled is expensive and I got bills to pay.”

“Say less,” Marisol agreed, letting it go.

Demi, however, decided to butt in, “But I thought the money from—”

That gave Savannah pause. Stunned at Demi’s almost question, she put the comb down on the sink counter. The sound echoed in the morning quiet. She took a breath to still herself before glancing at the phone screen again.

“Oop!” Marisol scurried out the frame with her hands raised and backed away from the camera, leaving her partner to fend for herself. Marisol had already tried to have this conversation with Savannah many times before. It seemed that Demi’s unfinished question was another one of Marisol’s sly attempts. Demi reluctantly inched forward as Savannah stared daggers through the screen.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Demi exclaimed. “I just meant that you’ve been working so hard. I just wish that you let yourself rest a bit more and take it easy, well in that regard. I just—”

Savannah cut in right there. “Now, I’m gonna stop you before you go any further. I’m gonna give you grace because I know that your girl put you up to it.”

Demi’s eyes moved slowly over to look at said girl out of frame and back at Savannah.

“But that money,” even saying the word made Savannah’s mouth sour, “wasn’t free. It still isn’t.”

She understood what they were trying to do. To express their concerns about her pushing herself. But they didn’t get it. The money she got out of the divorce was secured out of necessity not greed. And it would never be enough to pay for the long-term damage her ex’s betrayal had done.

“Well,” Demi began “…it definitely was not but,” she was finding her footing again, in spite of Savannah’s Scorpio stare, “you ARE free from that nigga.” Demi was preaching now, the spirit of encouragement influencing her oration. Marisol ad-libbed a churchy “Thank you, Lord” from the background. Oh great, Savannah thought as her steel started to crack.

“And the State of California, declared that in addition to that freedom,” Demi continued, while Marisol hummed in the background to goad her partner on, “he has no choice but to pay for his lies.” Demi declared with a pointed finger, as Marisol shouted, “Come on.” Wait, was that organ keyboard music Savannah heard coming from their end? Her anger was dissipating into chuckles of amusement.

“So all I’m saying, Sister Savannah,” Demi said softly with preacher’s cadence still in effect, “and I hold your hand when I say this,” she held her own two hands for Savannah’s emphasis, “you should hold no guilt when it comes to using it. No shame for using it when you need it. Exactly like you said, it wasn’t free. But in this new life, you deserve to give yourself the ease you desire. You can do that now.” Demi ended, punctuated by Marisol’s soft hallelujah and towel-clad hand on her forehead. The music faded out and the space was silent for a beat. Savannah’s eyes circled upward for a bit, trying to hold in tears because it was too early for all this. When she looked down again, two pairs of eyes were staring back at her. Savannah’s moved pursed lips from side-to-side, mulling over what to say. In a low tone, “You two…” a snort is what actually came out and then a chorus of laughter and chuckles. “Y’all are something else,” she said with the shake of her head.

Savannah went back to finishing up her hair and her favorite couple watched.

“So, does that mean you won’t beat my ass?” Demi asked.

“I guess,” Savannah deadpanned.

“And does that mean we’re still splitting Ms. Taylor’s leftovers at lunch?” Marisol added.

“Hmm, I’ll have to think about it,” Savannah said with a smirk. Of course she would. She always did.

“Well, at least I’m in the clear.” Demi said, preparing to head out. Marisol scoffed in time with the kiss she left on her cheek. “I’ll catch you later, Sister Savannah.”

Savannah put her hands together and bowed her head slightly, “Thank you, Pastor Demi.” With the grab of her keys and wink, Demi was gone now leaving the best friends to themselves.

Marisol watched as Savannah put the finishing touches on her hair, smoothing and pinning it. It was a simple and classic style. She admired her friend’s handiwork. Especially because Savannah was getting back into it again. And was actually able to. Savannah was proud of the fact that she could do her hair…when her body would cooperate with her. It was always touch and go but the last few months were a lot for her, especially with fully sitting and internalizing the aftermath of the divorce. So, Marisol was soaking in her friend’s born-again pride with a smile.

Savannah’s voice floated in, interrupting Marisol’s thoughts.

“You know you not slick right?,” an eyebrow of Savannah’s own arching.

“I’ve never claimed to be,” Marisol replied

“‘You deserve to give yourself the ease you desire’. Your girl is good with her words. I got the message,” Savannah nodded in acceptance.

“Hey, as long as it got through, that’s all that matters.” Marisol said with hands up. “And she really is,” a smile growing at her lips. She loved the woman badly.

“Also, why do I get the feeling that preaching routine I got a glimpse of is something that you do on the regular? Y’all don’t even go to church,” pressed Savannah with a knowing look. Marisol smirked in a response.

“Anyways, I’m glad that you’re almost ready and that I get to work a Saturday shift with you.” Marisol smiled

Almost was the operative word. For all the time she spent on her hair and being on the phone, she was still in her pajamas! Hadn’t picked her outfit, ate her breakfast, gave herself time to lollygag or pack her lunch.

“Yeah, almost. Girl, I love you but I gotta go,” the words came out hurriedly, as she was about to hang up.

“Don’t forget that food, Savannah,” Marisol reminded her. “You know she gon ask me,” continued with a pointed look. Savannah nodded in reply. “I love you too. See you soon.” Marisol blew a kiss through the phone that Savannah dramatically caught and held to her chest.

When the call ended, Savannah scrambled into action to find her clothes for the day. The plan was shades of brown. There was a chocolate brown pullover in the car she planned to wear after letting Mari borrow it. For now she’d go for the white collared shirt, tan khakis and multicolored sneakers in shades of brown and white. So followed the routine of bra, ribbed high neck tank top, compression socks (that were easy to slid on thank god). She padded to the closet to get her shirt and pants but they were nowhere to be found. Sliding hanger after hanger, forwards and backwards but neither of them were there. Savannah knew she wasn’t tripping. Where were her clothes? When she made a slight turn around, she came to face with her dirty laundry basket and peeking out the top were the desired shirt and khakis. Savannah groaned remembering that today was Saturday. That was the outfit she planned for yesterday, which she wore…yesterday. It was also washday in every sense of the word. Savannah didn’t have any other clothes that she deemed work appropriate. She needed to throw together something, because if she wasn’t ready to go in the next 10 mins she was going to be late! Fuck it, she whispered.

She went through her closet again and found some black yoga pants. This would do, she guessed. At least she had the pullover in car to cover her upper half. Despite the fall heat, the building’s air conditioning made the circulation desk, especially, a freezer; whoever decided to place the desk directly under that vent was incompetent in their design of the building. Savannah’s phone rang, which told her she was definitely going to be late for work. She walked back to the bathroom to silence it and grab her makeup bag. So much for shades of brown, she grumbled as she lifted her glasses, applying black liner to her lash and water lines. The light turned off when she headed toward the exit of her room and grabbed two thin, oversized gold hoops on her way out. In the kitchen, she grabbed a lunch tote, the two Tupperware dishes Ms. Taylor had given her, some chips, applesauce and two bottles of water. She decided to throw in a protein shake as the breakfast she didn’t plan to have. Savannah was close to making her way out the house. Her lunch tote and bag were already set by the entryway table, all she needed to do was put her shoes on, grab her keys and hit the road. When she looked up after tying her shoes, the mirror in the entryway revealed that with all the running around she was in earlier, she’d forgotten to tie her hair down–which was now frizzy and white? Oh hell no!

- - - - - -

When Savannah pulled up to her place of work she was already annoyed for a variety of reasons. For one, the front of her decided to build a white cast due to the detangling spray and gel she used not mixing well! Because of that, she had to go back in her house and find something to cover the mess. It was a magenta bandana she grabbed at random. Second, the coveted pullover that Savannah thought was in her vehicle was nowhere to be found. She saw Marisol give it back to her and placed it in her car, or so she thought. So it meant that she’d be out of her self-prescribed uniform and cold as hell. And now, third, she had to cover a program she had NOT planned to and had to figure out what to cobble together. It was too early for all of this!

Part 4B coming soon! Also I know i need to make a better compilation for the taglist so if you wanna be tagged or removed lmk!

#slutsareteacherstoo #atiya writes #terry richmond x black!oc #terry richmond fic #terry richmond x black fem #terry x savannah #Spotify

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