#(even though he left it on the ground and had another stick it wasn't His Stick)

[groenendaze]

the drama of it all

[webism]

KINKTOBER DAY EIGHT: impact play with sub!sukuna

kinktober masterlist

IM SO BEHIND kinda focused on face slapping here because god im a perv for slapping him in the face but i think i want to write a full fic once kinktober is done with paddles and such

The first time you slapped Sukuna wasn't in the bedroom. You two had been fighting, his words were too much and you responded in turn with a sharp slap across his face.

Of course, with his disposition to bloodshed, you’d half expected your head to fall onto the ground. Instead, he had caught your wrist in his large hand and looked down at you with the most pleading eyes you’ve ever seen from him.

And he spoke, through gritted teeth, “again.”

Turns out, the King of Curses has a hidden hope for being struck by you. You'd believe it if he said he only riled you up to get hit, what with how hard he got after the first strike.

That was only the first time, though— Ryomen Sukuna has since fallen in love with being at no ones mercy but yours. With each blow you decide to deliver to his body, be it his face, chest, stomach, ass... he falls deeper and deeper into hopes for more.

What's best is when you leave a mark. A bruise across his face or a red receipt of your hand or paddle against his skin. He'd kill for the sight of his back stained red with the remnants of the way your riding crop would stick to his skin. If nothing else, leaving bruises and near-cuts behind is a reminder of that small part of him that doesn't mind being vulnerable with another. The part of his heart, if he were to ever admit to having one, that belonged to you.

Thats how you get his face flushed red in the middle of his private chambers. Hair pushed out of his eyes so you can see more of the blown-out lust that pools in them with every strike of your palm across his face. You sit on his lap, impaled by his cock(s), and only barely rocking your hips as he writhes underneath you. He may have a talent for submitting to you, but that doesn't mean he won't brat whilst he's at it.

Each time he dares to rut up against you, buck his hips for a taste of friction, you land a slap across his face.

"Count," you order him. If it were anyone else using your tone in his presence their life would be very quickly lost. But your Ryomen only tilts his head back and offers you more.

"One," his sharp teeth grit.

You ride him faster, send him dizzier and dizzier and the second his hips move up to meet yours, you're striking him again.

"Fuck, two," you trace your fingertip over his reddening cheek. You'd believe it was only red from your palm if the other wasn't blushing as well.

"It's like you want to be hit," you deadpan, as if Sukuna could keep his wants a secret. "Keep—fuck—trying to take charge even when it hurts you."

"Doesn't hurt, brat," Sukuna grins, bearing his teeth to you. Before you can even raise your palm, the word is lolling off his tongue, "three."

You raise an eyebrow, but oblige nonetheless. You put some more force into this one, though you suspect that's exactly what Sukuna was aiming for, and the strangled moan that slips from his lips when your palm meets his cheek is made for porn.

When his gaze returns to you, there's a blissful look in his eyes that spurs your movements on. Your stomach rolls with a blooming orgasm at the sight of his expression: needy, desperate, submissive. Ryomen Sukuna, the man who dominates unearthly beings, at your mercy. His lips tremble, and you're almost too distracted by the beautiful look strewn across his face to realise his hands have met your hips and he's guiding you up and down on him like a toy.

"Four," when you slap him again, and a strangled "five" when you surprise him with a burning strike across the other cheek.

There's no stopping the shared orgasms that wash over the pair of you, what with Sukunas incessant bounce of you on his cock, or the searing tingle left behind by your palm's impact on his skin. You gasp, and ache, and pull at his hair with enough force to make him growl as he fills you up.

And when you've both calmed, sweaty against the black silk of his sheets, Sukuna takes your wrist and raises your hand in front of your face.

"I'll put a ring on your finger, so you'll leave a better mark next time."

[h-c-u]

Keep your eyes open

Summary: Mirror sex. Nothing else. Not even a crumb of plot.

Pairing: Toto Wolff x fem!reader (no y/n, just honorifics) 

W/C: 4k

Rating: +18, age Gap, size difference, praise kink, oral hyper-fixation, marking, overstimulation, soft!dom/sub

A/N: I'm back, bitches! xD Bon Appétit <3

Masterlist | List of tags

Was the whole room vibrating, or was it just you...? Your mind needed a moment to focus and find yourself back in reality.

Your whole body felt dangerously hot, even though your skin was covered in the thin layer of sweat and you could feel your hair sticking to your face. Your breath was irregular, and heavy, as if you were drowning and someone just pulled you to the surface, and you were trying your best to get enough oxygen into your lungs. Your heart was beating so intensely that you could feel it even in your fingertips and toes... There was a metallic taste on your tongue, and you realised that you bit your lower lip so hard that you drew blood, but you were too overwhelmed to feel the pain.

When your breathing finally calmed down, a heavy sweet and salty scent hit your nostrils, invading your brain and reminding you of what just happened.

You were sitting in Toto's lap, although sitting was a very generous word for the state you were in. Your back was tightly pressed against his chest and for once in your life, his skin was colder than yours. That sensation helped your mind remember how to form coherent thoughts. He was using his knees to keep your legs open, letting them hang limp in the air, not able to reach the ground, so even if you could move - you wouldn't be able to escape. Toto's strong arm was holding your torso under your breasts, keeping you in the upright position as his other hand was gently caressing your thigh. Your head was resting on his shoulder, and it felt so heavy, even though you felt as if you were floating somewhere under the ceiling. His cheek was pressed to your temple and in his low, rumbling voice he was whispering things your mind wasn't able to comprehend.

Very slowly you moved your hands and placed them over his, trying to hold onto him even more, because you still felt like you could slip in between the cracks of reality. But the tone alone was able to soothe you in the way nothing else ever could. You could feel his chest vibrating behind you, while his hand moved from your thigh to your abdomen, covering almost all of it. His rough fingers were tracing unrecognisable shapes on your skin giving you goosebumps, but you loved that sensation. A huge smile sprawled across your face as you finally came back to your body.

You gently squeezed his big forearms, letting him know that you were coherent again, and when you did that - he pressed a gentle kiss to the side of your head.

- You want me to do that again...? - he asked in a hushed whisper, and the only thing you could do was nod your head slowly. - You're being so good for me, just let me take care of you... - he pressed another kiss to your head as his hand left your body for a short moment to grab the vibrating wand again, but you stopped him mid-move... Of that, you had enough. - Oh...? - he asked with a fake innocence in his voice. You could hear a sly smile that showed up on his face; you didn't even have to look at him. - You don't want more...? - he teased, even though he already knew exactly what you were asking for.

You let out a quiet mewl of protest, wriggling your hips just a little bit, grinding against his very erect cock, which was gently resting in between your folds, already soaked with your previous releases, but Toto hadn't had his yet... He always took care of you first, no matter what. He even joked sometimes that at his age he might not be able to keep up with you anymore, but that was bullshit because he was almost always able to outlast you; the control he had over his own body... It was something to be admired, especially in moments like this.

- And you think you're ready...? - he asked in a soft, teasing, almost condescending tone as he gently traced his fingers on the inside of your thighs, giving you goosebumps that spread all over your body. His hands rested on your hips for a moment, where his thumbs gently rubbed the skin before he pulled you back, allowing his shaft to slide up, teasing your clit along the way, which drew another twitch from your body. You couldn't help but part your lips, letting out a soft whine from between them, as his hand travelled up your body, teasing your nipples, until he reached your jaw, where his delicate touch tightened. He roughly grabbed you and forced you to look in the mirror in front of you.

You looked absolutely obscene...

Your eyes looked like they were made of glass, your lips were swollen and puffed from constant biting, and your skin glistened in the soft, dim light. Your neck and shoulders were covered in hickeys and bitemarks, already filling up with crimson. Before your gaze travelled lower, you looked up, to catch Toto's grin, but it was far from malicious; he resembled a proud cat, who presented the fruits of his bountiful hunt. He gently nudged your temple with his nose and playfully bit the top of your ear when he noticed you were looking at him, and you couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. But it wasn't long before he guided your head forward again so you could go back to examining your body.

Your hair was a mess, sticking not only to your own flushed skin, but also to Toto's, and your nipples stood proudly erect from all the stimulation, and just by looking at them you could feel them tensing even more. You were spread open by his legs, your most vulnerable parts exposed and displayed... Well... They were just a minute ago, but right in the reflection they were hidden behind a long, thick cock, which tip reached your navel, and just the sight of it made you swallow.

When you saw it for the first time, you were convinced there was no chance he'd ever fit inside you, but somehow he made it fit.

As if out of its own volition, your hand travelled to his shaft, and as soon as your fingers traced the length, Toto hissed quietly in your ear, which made you retreat and look down, but that didn't help, because instead of a reflection, your gaze met the real thing and you instantly started salivating. The smooth texture of a dark pink tip was almost glistening in the soft light, and you could see how tensely the skin was stretched over the girth, giving the impression that it was almost too thick to be contained. Every vein was not only visible but practically emphasized... And when it suddenly twitched and touched your abdomen - there was a sticky spot of precum left on your skin.

- I asked you a question, Angel... - he said with a playful grin, and you instantly looked up to catch his beautiful chocolate eyes staring back at you from the mirror. You swallowed loudly and looked down again as if to make sure, you knew what you were getting yourself into. Or rather what you were about to get inside you.

But somehow words eluded you, so instead you just nodded slowly without breaking eye contact with Toto's reflection.

- Well, if you're sure... - he chuckled quietly... - But first I need you to promise me one thing. Do you think you can do that for me...? - he asked, the cunning smile still echoing in his voice. You nodded again, and he licked your exposed neck, soothing the nasty bite he already left there. When he looked at you again, his gaze darkened. - Keep your eyes open. - he said in a stern voice, and you couldn't help but swallow, because you knew what was about to come, and even though every cell in your body craved it, you were aware that it wasn’t going to be possible without a certain amount of pain. - Yeah...? - he asked after not receiving any confirmation from you.

- Yeah... - it was all you were able to say, your voice still strained and raspy from all the screaming.

- Good girl... - he growled and playfully bit your earlobe, at the same time pulling you even closer into him. You almost closed your eyes when his hands started moving down your body, but you stopped yourself at the last second and looked in the mirror again. Your gaze was pulled to Toto's hands under your thighs, where he gave you a gentle squeeze, letting you know to get ready and relax, before lifting you until his thick tip was pressed against your entrance, and suddenly you weren't so sure if you were ready. He looked almost comically big next to you.

But then he started slowly lowering you, and it was too late to back out. At first, there was only the pressure of his smooth head pushing against your opening, without being able to penetrate, until suddenly his cock slid forward on a slippery mess, shot up gliding between your folds and teasing your clit, which forced a loud squeal from between your lips. You could feel his chest moving behind you, as he tried to mask a chuckle. But he didn't say anything... Instead, he pressed a long kiss to your shoulder and lifted you again.

For a moment you thought that the scenario would repeat itself when that pressure at your entrance grew, but then your already relaxed body lost the battle and gave in, swallowing almost a third of his shaft in one go, driving all air from your lungs in a loud squeak. It took a good few seconds for your brain to process the stimuli, and for a moment you didn't even feel the burning pain of being stretched so much that clenching was impossible, but when it hit you, tears almost instantly started gathering in the corners of your eyes... It was all too much, and a single sob left your mouth.

- Oh, I know it hurts, Angel, I'm sorry... - Toto whispered straight into your ear and rubbed his cheek against your temple. - You're being so good for me, taking me so well... - he continued praising you; his hot breath whiffed over your skin causing almost painful goosebumps. You sniffled quietly and mumbled something your brain couldn't comprehend at the moment, your nervous system completely flooded with the sensations coming from inside of you. - Hmmm? What's that? - he made sure that you didn't use your safe word, but you only weakly repeated the quiet plea. - No, baby, we can't stop yet, I'm not even halfway there and your pussy is too pretty to be half empty... - your sobs grew a little bit louder, and the tears finally overflowed and started streaming down your cheeks. - Shhh, shhh, shhhhhh... It's OK if you cry, you're safe, I promise... I love you so much... - his praise made something in your chest bloom and a familiar warmth spilled from that area... You took one deep breath and nodded, letting him know you were ready to continue.

You let your head roll back and rest on his shoulder while his fingers dug into your flesh as he slowly lifted you again in the air. The thickness of his cock pressed against every single spot inside you on its way out, and you let out another sob, this time louder and you could almost feel him smiling, even though you couldn't see his face from this angle, your nose buried in his neck. Your lips latched onto his skin and you started sucking, trying to distract yourself at least a little from the burning pain coming from between your legs.

He didn't let his whole length leave your body to give you a short break, and as soon as the head was about to pop out of you, he started lowering you again almost mechanically, not speeding up or slowing down, allowing you to get used to the sensations. Before your lips left his skin, you gave him a playful bite over the hickey and rubbed your tears away on his neck and with your own shoulder, because bringing your hands to your face required the amounts of energy you didn't possess at the moment.

You let out a quiet squeal when you felt a familiar pressure against your cervix, and the muscles in your thighs involuntarily clenched. You forced your head up to look in the mirror, but you still didn't have enough strength to keep it upright by yourself, so you rested your temple on Toto's cheek, and the view you saw in front of you almost took your breath away...

Both yours and Toto's skin glistened in the dim warm light, giving the impression that you were covered in a gold mist... Your legs hung loosely in his strong hands, your soft flesh giving into his grip, and every place where his fingers dipped into you looked like a secret oasis of desire, showing how much he didn't want to let you go. You didn't realise that before, but your breath synched with his, or his with yours, and you were moving in perfect harmony, both of your chests rising and falling at the same rhythm as if you were a single organism. And then your gaze travelled lower...

You could see your stomach bulging every time he slowly lowered you down, his massive cock invading your abdomen. You could tell exactly where the tip was and the steady movement almost hypnotized you; you couldn't help yourself and your hand traveled to your stomach, where you could feel him move under the skin. It wasn't the first time you were seeing it, but every time was equally fascinating... Seeing your skin stretching to accommodate something so big, and your opening straining around his girth; he was changing your body in front of your eyes, and you loved it more than you could put into words.

And then he lowered you even more and pain shot through your legs and spine; Toto rammed into your cervix, pushing it back into your body, and you couldn't stop a loud whine that left your lips. Your heart rolled back again, all the sensations too overwhelming to consciously process, so you just let yourself ride it through, trusting him completely.

Toto knew your body well by now, so he squeezed your thighs harder, pulling your attention away from the pain inside you, and he rubbed his cheek against your face, inhaling deeply and allowing your scent to invade his senses.

- You're taking me so well, Angel... So tight for me... - he continued praising you and pressing light kisses everywhere his lips could reach. And with his every word, every thrust, you started to feel the tension building up again, the familiar tightness overtaking your body as his cock constantly stimulated your G spot even with the slightest of moves. You grabbed his forearm with one hand and pressed on your stomach with the other - That's it, baby, that's it... Cum for me, pleeeease cum for me. It's ok, you can do it. - his tone was so soft, putting you at ease and you let yourself go yet again, a quiet moan escaping your lips as your legs involuntarily twitched in his hands, disrupting his steady rhythm, but not stopping completely.

Electricity run through your whole body as the tip of Toto's cock dragged against that spot inside you yet again, and you couldn't stop the loud cry that forced itself from your mouth. Your brain felt fuzzy, and as if it was behind a thick wall, not completely belonging to you. You couldn't lift your head, but your eyes locked with his in the mirror, while sob after quiet sob dropped from between your lips.

- Please... Toto... I can't anymore... - you whined, looking at him with a plea painted all over your face. He only smiled in reply and kissed the top of your head, but he didn't stop moving you up and down, almost like a doll. You wrapped your hands around your body and continued crying as he sped up, your whines matching his moves. But despite the pain and all the stimulation, you didn't close your eyes; after all - he told you not to. And he held your gaze; his eyes darkening with your every plea and you could only see determination in them. He held you even tighter as he continued fucking into you; his thrusts getting faster, more desperate, more erratic. - Toto... I can't... I can't cum anymore... - your voice cracked, tears streaming down your cheeks. Your whole body felt hot and cold at the same time as it hung loosely in his arms and rested against his chest. You barely had enough energy to stay still as he used your body.

- Don't worry, this will be the last one, I promise... I know you can do it, Angel... Here, I'll even go nice and slow to help you a little bit, just to be sure you can take it all, hmmm? - he whispered against your skin and you couldn't even reply coherently, as his movements became more drawn out, more deliberate. He was purposefully angling your body so as much pressure as possible was dragging against that sweet spot inside you at any given moment, and your cries started to mix with moans yet again. - That's it, you're doing amazing... You're such a good girl... Just a little bit longer... - his voice was getting husky and gravely, his breaths shallow and uneven; it couldn't be easy for him to manhandle you like that, but he showed no signs of stopping, continuing to move your body up and down his shaft, a cheeky smile curving his lips as he heard the change in your voice.

Against everything you thought you knew about your body, you started to feel another orgasm approaching; slowly, but unmistakably closing in. You couldn't look away from him, because you knew that if you did, you wouldn't be able to take it any longer and his beautiful dark chocolate eyes were the only thing grounding you in reality.

Your broken sobs became higher the closer you were to the peak, and Toto knew it well, that's why you almost screamed in protest when he suddenly stopped, dropping you completely onto his cock, sheathing it in full inside you.

- Toto... Toto, pleeeeease. Please, please, please, I am so close... - you whined and looked up at him, trying to look into his eyes up close, as if that could help.

- I thought you said you couldn't cum anymore... - he teased with a sly smile and a cold shiver ran through your spine. He wouldn't... He couldn't, right...?

- Nononononono... Please... I was wrong, please... - tears of desperation were streaming down your cheeks, but you couldn't care less.

- Oh, Angel... - his voice was soft and soothing; he could never resist your pleas. He playfully bit the side of your neck and immediately licked it at the same time moving you up again and a quiet squeal tore itself from between your lips. - Just a little bit longer... Can you do that for me...? Can you wait for me...? - he whispered quietly with his nose digging into your cheek, his words composed more from heavy breathing than actual sound.

Instead of replying you just nodded enthusiastically and pressed yourself into his chest even harder; not sure when your own body ended and his began. And then he picked up the speed again, and you just couldn't stop your eyes from rolling back into your head. You had to wrap your arms around yourself, so they wouldn't be flailing widely in the rhythm of Toto's moves. You could feel your breasts bouncing, straining against gravity, the slight sting of skin slapping against skin, the sound filling the room in tandem with other sounds. Moans, growls, whines, and whimpers mixed with each other in an unnamed symphony, accompanied by the loud squelching coming from your pussy.

Toto's fingers dug deeper into your flesh to get a tighter grip; your skin was covered in a layer of sweat and he didn't want to accidentally drop you. And if that meant that you'd be donning bruises in the shape of his fingers for the next few days... Oh well.

You were so fucking close... You could almost taste it with your mouth wide open, willing your body to hold on for just a little bit longer. You didn't even feel your fingernails drawing blood from where you were holding onto yourself.

And then something shifted in the air. Toto's growls became deeper and louder, and you could just tell that he closed his eyes and that his eyebrows gathered closer, focusing on the culmination of today's evening. He started thrusting up, although, in the position you were in, it wasn't easy. His face was pressed into your shoulder, his hot breath giving you goosebumps all over.

It wasn't long before you could feel his cock throbbing and pulsing inside you right before release, and as soon as he released the first spurt of cum right against your cervix, he dropped you onto his cock, wrapped his hand around your waist and with the other reached down ad started rubbing your clit with just enough pressure that you came instantly releasing an exhausted yet satisfied cry, allowing your body to act on its own.

Your legs curled up, your toes crossed each other and your stomach tensed, and if not for Toto's arm, you would have slid down from his lap onto the floor. And then he continued rubbing, as all air left your lungs and you became quiet. Or maybe you screamed...? You weren't quite sure, because the only thing you were able to hear was a loud, rapid heartbeat ringing in your ears, as you were spasming around Toto's giant cock inside you. He made you ride your orgasm to the fullest, relishing in the feeling of your soft walls squeezing around him, as your body twitched uncontrollably until it couldn't anymore.

You were left limply laying in Toto's hold, and after you were able to catch your breath you let out a quiet, raspy chuckle.

- I swear to gods, the things you do to me... - you said with disbelief, your mouth was so dry that when you closed it, your tongue almost stuck to the roof of your mouth. Toto joined you in the quiet laughter, his chest rumbling gently under your back

- Ich liebe dich... - he mumbled and pulled you up his lap, even closer to him than you already were, and hid his face in the nook of your neck, taking a deep breath. You lifted your hand and ran your fingers through his soft hair.

- I love you too... - you chuckled again, not exactly by choice... Your body still didn't belong fully to you and it tried to release all the accumulated tension in any way it could, and that also meant that you still randomly twitched from time to time, but that didn't stop you from noticing that Toto's giant hand found it's way to your abdomen, fingers tracing the bulge he was a cause of. - You're not planning on pulling out, are you... - it was more of a statement than a question and your tone was light, almost like a warm laughter.

- I wouldn't dream about it. - he replied and started sucking on the skin of your shoulder again, and you just knew that you were going to wake up with another load of his cum inside you.

Eventually, you were able to look up at your reflection again, and you didn't even try to hide a giant smile that curved your lips. There was no way you could hide all the bitemarks, hickeys and bruises in the coming days, but neither could he, so at least you were matching. 

A/N 2: Please don’t feel obligated/pressured to reblog, because I write mostly for myself. A comment would be appreciated though :) Love, G.

[loveforeren]

This was js a little drabble I found in my notes it's Jealous? Miguel x bratty reader? Yeah

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

Peter and you were talking to tell you a joke, and you laughed doubling over. You knew Miguel had his eyes on you ever since the rumor went around about you and Peter flirting even though Peter was completely in love with MJ. If you were being honest you were flirting with almost everyone except Peter. You continue to giggle as you put your hand on Peter's shoulder, and that is Miguel's last straw. Jess came to you and tapped your shoulder

"Hey...Miguel wants you in his office hurry he seems upset.." Jess says with annoyance dripping from her voice, showing she wasn't in the mood for his anger when she was pregnant.

You nod and skip down to his office knowing what was to come. You walk in with a huge grin on your face. "You called me Miggy!" You say trying to keep your mischievous giggle in.

He glares. You know that glare all too well. You watch as his platform descends to the ground.

"Come here now." He practically growls. His voice was laced with anger.

A shiver ran down your back. You could hardly wait. You waltz over to him innocently with a grin.

"Yes~ Miggy." You say still trying to keep your composure.

Seconds later you feel his hand grip your cheeks and squish them harshly. You could feel the anger seething off of him. His eyes were red and a animal-like growl could be heard.

"Don't give me that Miggy shit. Wanna explain why you've been all over multiple other spiders for the past week." He Snarled

"You've been cooped up in here for a week in this room. I was horny so I was trying to find ways or rather other men pleasure me." You mumbled due to your cheeks being squished harshly. It was a joke, but Miguel being your boyfriend didn't find it funny.

You may have been mumbling but he understood every single word that left you mouth. You watch his face as his eyebrows furrow farther than they already were. Before you could react you react you were bent over one of the panels on his platform.

"So you were being a slut." He hissed his hand on the back of your neck holding you down. This still wasn't enough for you. You wanted to be destroyed by his dick.

"Hmm~ maybe?" You say laughing.

That did it. You made him snap. You feel his tear through the bottom of your spider suit with his talon. He'll make you a new one..probably?

"You want to be a slut? I treat you like one fucking whore." He spat out his words harshly.

You feel his finger move between your slick folds before he sticks two fingers into you with no warning and roughly. You yelp from both the pleasure in pain.

"Of course a little whore like you likes this I'm gonna fucking ruin you. You won't want anyone else's fucking cock." He Snarled

His fingers are going in and out of your throbbing hole roughly with every thrust you felt your body jolt forward. You are a moaning mess at this point.

"Miguel- R-right ah- Oh God right there." You mewl out in desperation.

Just as you were about you reach your high you feel his fingers stop. You whine at the halt in movement.

"Miggy please?" You beg eyes welling up with tears

"Fucking sluts like you don't deserve it." He hissed.

You watched as the bottom part of his suit disappeared. You had heard from Lyla that he went commando under it but you didn't believe it until now. He hits your ass the stinging sensation causes the tears in your eyes to spill. Your ass was stinging and you felt another slap.

"You like the pain don't you fucking whore." He said his eyes locked on to your now tear-stained face

he grabs a hold of your waist and slams into you with no warning. It took everything in you to not scream. He was mercilessly pounding into you. You could feel his talons coming out as he gripped your waist.

"Fuck whore. You like it rough." He Snarled snapping his hips back and pounding into you.

You were too cock drunk to even reply. Sobbing and hollering loudly was all you could manage to get out.

"Hmm? I'm here fucking your brains out dirty slut, and you want another man's dick? " He questioned his hips still snapping back and forth penetrating your body. You were too cock drunk to pay attention he grabbed your face and asks again

"Do you want another man's cock." It was more of a statement than in question in the firm way he asked.

"No..no I don't want anyone but you Miggy" you mewl. If someone didn't know any better they'd say they see the heart shapes in your eyes.

Miguel continues to pound into you "What if I fill you up? What if I fill that womb up? Hmm? Make you all big and swollen with my baby then you're stuck with me." He says between thrusts. "You wanna me to fill you up? Hm." He speaking nonsense at this point.

You feel a knot in your stomach and you groaned "Miggy can I come? Can I please come?"

Miguel laughs in a mocking way "Are you going to be a good whore for me? Are you going to be mine and mine only?" He asks firmly

"Yes! Yes, I promise Miggy!" You squirmed and yell.

"Go ahead." He whispered in your ear.

Miguel fucks you through your high not switching up his pace, but after a few more thrusts he came.

You feel your entire lower body be filled with his seed.

He leans over on you with a softer gaze as you caught your breath he had finally calmed down enough to speak rationally. "Am I not paying enough attention to you?" He asked with a bit of concern.

You sigh "I know you're busy. Protecting the spiderverse."

He chuckled "The arachno-humanoid-polymultiverse, but yes its a lot of work."

You sigh.

"But not as important as you I'll work it. Not working as much so we can be together more okay?" He smiled kissing your forehead.

You smile nodding. "Okay! I'm gonna hold you to that Miggy."

(A/N) I'm with my family rn so it's hard to write because yk...I'm writing smut. I'll try to post again very very soon. I have like little a drabble and a Kokushibo fanfic that will be multiple parts in the works. Along with like 5 more Miguel fics and angst Eren fic and a Jean fic and I don't even at this point. My hashtag is #loveforeren its should be right at the top and that has all my posted writing and my masterlist is pinned with rules for for request.

[dovahkiin796]

Poppy Playtime: CH 3 (What-if)

John watches in horror as dozens upon dozens of the Mini–Smiling Critters he has been dealing with ever since he found himself in the Playhouse. Crawl out of the walls and toward the hanging DogDay. The giant version of the toy screams out in panic when seeing the little monsters.

"Leave me! Please! Save yourself!" Every fiber of John's being agreed with what the humanoid dog said. But John couldn't get his legs to move.

He was too caught up in the horrific sight to even twitch a finger. But eventually his brain screamed at him to go, and John responded.

Though instead of running away to get to safety. John fired a few flares at the Mini-Smiling Critters. Like the other times they reared back in fright at the bright fireball.

However, this time, not all of them were backing away. Some continued to crawl toward DogDay. Their feral nature being more powerful than their fear. So, with only one option left. John starts bashing away the plush toys with his GrabPack arms.

"What are you doing?!" Asked a confused DogDay. "I told you to leave me!" John ignored him and continued his assault. One of the Smiling Critters manages to get onto DogDay's head, and it seemed it was about to crawl into his head by his large, black eyes,

John stopped this from happening by actually using his own hand to grab it and then punch it in the face with his other hand by turning it into a fist. John heard a sickening crack, but he pressed on and threw the dead thing away.

In quick speed John was able to free the large dog from his straps and have his arms wrap around his neck for support. "You're a fool for doing this. You're going to get yourself killed."

John could only grin. If that was the case, then at least he died trying to save someone. The Mini-Smiling Critters, angry that their food supply was now free. All snarled in anger.

John didn't bother to wait and see what they'll do and ran back the way he came. But when trying to run through the cell doors, wooden planks that were put in place to cover a large hole in the floor. Collapsed by the combined wait of John and DogDay's.

They fell to a floor beneath the holding cells. Clearing his dazed head from the sudden fall. John sees an open tunnel. Up above he can hear the little Critters coming to where he and DogDay fell.

Wasting no time, he crouch runs down the tube till coming to another tunnel and taking it. It was series of running, taking sharps turns, running up ramps, waiting for shutter doors to open up, and taking a slide down. But eventually John spots their salvation. An elevator that was behind a gap that led to a bottomless pit.

Switching to the purple hand and with what little adrenaline he had left in him. John sprints toward the gap, "Hang on! This won't be an easy landing!" Just as his foot touches the purple hand pad. John fires the hand on it and both he and DogDay launch high in the air.

Fortunately for them they were able to make it. Though John ended up not sticking the landing. He lost his footing and fell to the ground. The giant Smiling Critter rolled off of him, only being stopped by the elevator railing.

Without his choice John's body happened to land on his side where his front would be facing the open doorway he just came through. He can see the horde coming for him and DogDay. He wasn't actually sure if they would make the jump or not. He prayed that they didn't. But he wouldn't be able to know as the shutter suddenly closed before any of them could even make the attempt.

From behind the door, he could hear the little beasts roar and snarl in absolute fury. Crashing their little bodies against the metal in hopes of breaking through it.

Though the door wasn't budging in the slightest. Letting out a much-needed sigh of relief. John turns to DogDay to see if he's alright. "Are you ok?" John asked. The Smiling Critter coughs a little before asking why he saved him. John was silent for a few seconds till saying. "Because this place already has enough death occur in it. It needs at least one life that was saved in these walls."

DogDay took a second to digest what he heard. He lets out a ragged snort. "You really are an Angel. Something this place really needs."

John snorts too. "By the way. The name is John." DogDay said the name sounded too generic and will continue to call him Angel. Rolling his eyes. John picks up DogDay and steps onto the elevator and pushes the button. The contraption heading upward that led them to another slide. With no other option they took it, and it actually took them outside the Playhouse.

"It's been so long since I've been outside. I honestly can't believe that I'm truly free." Said DogDay. "Well believe it, you'll no longer be someone's dinner."

After a phone call from Ollie and telling him what to do next. John first takes DogDay to the elevator where Kissy and Poppy were last seen using.

When reaching it John sees the elevator was still raised up. He calls out for either Poppy or Kissy to lower the elevator so DogDay can be safe with them.

For several long seconds he didn't get a reply back. He was worried that maybe they were no longer up there. But his worries were put to rest when he heard and saw the elevator descending.

The elevator finally reached the bottom and John rested DogDay against the railing. "I don't know about this. Can you trust them?" The Smiling Critter asked. A hint of worry in his voice.

Despite what DogDay said to him back at the Playplace about he and Poppy being the only ones to stop the Prototype. John doesn't blame him for it. For years he was at the mercy of toys who he thought were his friends. And after all those years, he's finally free, only be at the mercy to a different set of toys. John reassures him that that they'll keep him safe while he deals with CatNap.

Pressing the button so the elevator can go back up. DogDay says, "Please don't die, Angel. I don't want to lose any more friends in this place."

Promising he won't. John turns around and heads for the counselor's office to bring more power to the generator.

[epnusika]

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ- GR13F3R Romantic Headcanons

[ The Player! Reader Edition. ]

Author's Note: There are some spoilers ahead.

——————————————————————————————————

•] After his recovery from getting defeated, GR1EF3R was more than beyond pissed that his Dad is telling him to apologize to you. Sure... He did a lot of bad things and initially sent people to get rid of you but... You had it coming! You were trying to steal the Venomshank from him!

•] Now, he's standing awkwardly in your presence once you have returned to Turitopulis. His Dad was standing behind him, waiting and watching if his son would stick to his words. GR1EF3R'S arms are folded across his chest, trying to look cool under the heavy pressure on his shoulders.

"Y0U'R3 B4CK, PUNK... HMPH, T0OK YOU LONG ENOUGH. I 4LMOST TH0UGHT TH4T YOU GOT M4UL3D BY TH3 BE4STS 1N TH3 JUNGL3. Kind of a shame that you didn't...—" — "BRAD!" — "GAH!"

•] His entire apology was pretty pathetic, it was rather pitiful to watch him struggle to get the words out to apologize to you. If anything, his ego wasn't bruised, no. It felt like it was run over by a bullet train, smacked onto the ground, before it was set on fire with humiliation.

•] But... since Mayor Thaniyel wanted you two to get along, he had left you two alone to spend time with each other. GR1EF3R'S obviously repulsed by it. Why should he spend time with the one who beat the crap out of him? He was right about to leave, most likely to return to the big tree in the jungle, until you suggested that you two go to the arcade. Your treat.

•] The next thing you know, GR1EF3R'S hogging up all the prizes of each claw machine in the arcade, being surprisingly good at it.

•] Originally, he was planning to make you go bankrupt but... the moment you started cheering for him as the claw in the machine latches onto a plushed toy, something inside of him clicked, and he changed his mind. So, instead of you, he made the arcade bankrupt instead.

•] As you two headed out of the arcade, carrying four heavy bags of every prize that you won, GR1EF3R realized something. Something that felt... good. He's finally experiencing the feeling of having a companion. Not in online, but purely in reality.

•] He genuinely feels bad. Even after everything he did... You still managed to put up with him. Perhaps that's the reason why he hates you. He thinks you're too soft. You remind him of his Dad. People like you shouldn't...—Wait. No. What the hell is he thinking? He shouldn't care about stuff like this! Especially after you whooped his ass.

•] He's still pissed about it.

•] Regardless, he was pretty upset when he realized that you were going to leave Turitopulis soon. Right... He almost forgot that you were always up and about, rushing off to another one of your adventures or something...

•] It was like you helped him piece together the fragile parts of his heart, only to crush it with your own foot right after you were finished.

•] ...why did you have to leave when he finally found solace in your presence?

•] When the day of your departure arrived, you were met with a disgruntled GR1EF3R.

"H3Y, PUNK. Y0U GOT A PH0N3, R1GHT? ...HUH? WH4T DO YOU M3AN YOU DON'T H4VE—...? UGH, F1NE. H3RE, H4VE TH1S."

•] The next thing you know, GR1EF3R is handing you a cellular phone. From the looks of it, it looks outdated compared to its present-time counterparts. His old phone, perhaps?

"TSK... WHY D1D I EXP3CT TH4T YOU W0ULDN'T OWN ON3...? Maybe it's because you look broke."

•] Says the one who gave his old phone instead of buying a new one.

•] Going through the old phone though, there was one thing that you realized. GR1EF3R's number is in your contacts.

"L3T ME G3T SOM3TH1NG STR4IGHT... DON'T TH1NK TH4T TH3RE'S SOM3TH1NG GO1NG ON B3TWEEN US. GOT 1T? W1TH THE M4SS1VE Z3R0 IN Y0UR FR13ND'S L1ST? YOU SH0ULD BE GR4T3FUL TH4T I'M GIV1NG Y0U MY NUMB3R IN TH3 F1RST PL4CE. NOW GO. 1'M T1R3D OF LO0K1NG AT YOUR F4CE."

•] Not even ten minutes later after you left, he's asking his Dad about when you're going to come back. Looking over to the prizes that you two won in the arcade... He felt ticked off. All of it reminds him of you, surging a bittersweet feeling in his chest because of the short time you spent together.

•] So... when you arrived at your next destination, your phone was being blown up by messages from GR1EF3R. It was just simple messages like 'Hey, you alive?' or 'Hope the plane didn't crash.' but still. It's kind of amusing how he went from wanting you dead to being worried about your status.

•] Messages like this continued between the two of you. Slowly, it shifted to the point that you two had this little texting thing going on between each other. GR1EF3R'S obviously curious about what's going on in your line though. For example, he's asking what's it like retrieving the Ghostwalker? Did you have a tough time fighting enemies? You had to give him updates every hour or so because he wouldn't stop bugging you.

•] Until... you checked your most recent message from him. Exhausted from running away from the enemies trying to get you, you hid away into a secluded spot to regain some energy. You eventually pulled out your phone to check your contacts, and as expected, there was a new message from GR13FER.

"H3Y, SO. TH1S'LL BE OUTT4 POCK3T BUT 4RE Y0U PL4NN1NG TO H3AD B4CK TO TUR1TOPUL1S SO0N? TH3RE'S TH1S N3W 4IRS0FT PL4CE OP3N1NG SOON AND, I N3ED A P4RTNER."

•] Proceeding, he argues that he's totally not asking you out, totes!

"SO... WH3N 4M I GO1NG TO P1CK YOU UP FR0M THE A1RP0RT?"

[astyrial]

a little fate ps4!peter parker x gn!reader (meeting) synopsis: blind date mishaps word count: 708 warnings: none masterlist | requests are open

    "mary jane watson, i can't believe you set me up on some blind date, at a nice restaurant, and the guy doesn't even show up!" you whisper-yell into your phone as you sit in the corner of queens' best restaurant. 

  she laughs a little through the phone; as though she didn't set you up on an entirely embarrassing date. mary jane always exaggerated this 'friend' of hers that is just 'the nicest guy'. that the two had been friends since high school and that you would be absolutely perfect for him. what she forgot to mention was that he's a flake.

  "i'm sorry! i'm sure he's just running late, he has a very busy job tutoring some kids," mary jane pauses a little as she tries to explain what he does.

  you roll your eyes, letting out a breath to relax yourself, "tutoring kids to not show up on blind dates and immediately embarrass them? like it's been thirty minutes, he's lucky i even stayed this long."

  when you realize what time it is, you quickly get up, because you're definitely not staying longer than thirty minutes. "by the way, this is the sound of me getting out of my chair and leaving-" you start, walking towards the front of the restaurant.

  despite mary jane's concerns in your ear, you exit the front door of the restaurant. to your already heavy dismay, you bump into someone and immediately drop your phone and wallet. the guy quickly apologizes and picks it up for you. 

  "i'm so sorry, i'm late for a date, and i was not watching where i was going," he stands with one knee on the ground and his hand holding your items up. 

  the scene looked a little more romantic that the man had intended, a couple of people already gathering as you grab your phone from his hand. you look around to see the small crowd of people and purse your lips. your eyes look at him and then up at the people. as if this secret language you made up on the spot was gonna get him to stand up.

  "it's okay.. but maybe you should-" you hang up the phone and stick it into your back pocket, "get up, i'm sure your date wouldn't want you kneeling in front of another person.."

  his eyes widen to an extreme amount and he slowly gets up, turning around to the ground, "sorry everyone, she just dropped her things! nothing to see here folks!"

  you close your eyes for a second and hope that maybe this'll be forgotten by everyone that very minute. when you open your eyes, he's turned back around with an apologetic smile on his face. maybe, if he wasn't on a date with someone else, you'd say he's pretty cute.

  "uh sorry for that..." he stops as if he's waiting for you to give your name, his eyebrows raised.

  you shrug, acting like it didn't affect you one bit, "it's y/n, and it's the most exciting thing that's happened this evening so it's okay."

  his eyes widen once more and he pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. you look away for a second, wondering what he could possibly be doing that for. maybe he knows you? knows of you? 

  "you're y/n? i'm so sorry, i'm peter. i'm the friend of mary jane who is very late and also very sorry," peter's shoulders drop as soon as he sees your eyes widen just as wide as his.

  you roll your eyes and shake your head. sure the guy's cute, but he left you waiting for thirty minutes and left you stranded. and just because some ironic and slightly adorable meet cute occurred doesn't mean you were necessarily staying around to chat. 

  "please give me a chance, we can go somewhere else and i'll tell you the very legitimate reason as to why i'm late."

  the please does help a little, you think to yourself, and his nice jaw. with a quick thought of whether or not this is an awful idea, you look back at the restaurant and then back to him. "fine, but this just because of mary jane's glowing review of you."

[liennka]

Mizumono

Hannibal Lecter x Will's daughter X Will Graham

Summary: Will was supposed to help Jack with killing Hannibal, but he arrived too late and with him, his daughter, Y/n.... (s2e13)

-> This one is filled with angst, but i realised that's just what i am good at :) I am open to any criticism (be nice pls).

I just wanted to say that I am not the owner of this show, but I did make this story, so don't copy it without my knowledge, thank you.

When Alana called about the warrant, Will didn't panic. He told Y/n to go downstairs, urging her to turn off the lights and grab a jacket. And as the police headlights came through the windows, they ducked and crawled on all fours to the back door, Will grabbing his gun. Outside, hidden in the darkness, they ran across their property, stopping on a road. The rain soaked their clothes, though at least the ground wasn't muddy, otherwise they'd be easy to track. A taxi pulled up and Will gave him an address. 

"Hannibal Lecter's house? Why are we going from one danger to another?" Y/n asked, much rather preferring a McDonald's or a cinema. 

"Because Jack will be there, and right now nowhere is safe," her father whispered, looking out the window, "and maybe it's the only address I know."

"That's probably it. What are we going to do then? Have a cup of tea with him and chat with Hannibal?" she sarcastically teased. 

"I gave him time to leave, nothing should happen".

Y/N wasn't so sure.

----●----●----●----

When they got off, her father couldn't have been more wrong. Alana laid there, glass broken, rain rinsing blood from her hair. She seemed dead, just the twitching from shock making her shoulders move up and down. 

"Alana!" Will rushed to her and wrapped her in his coat.

Y/n made note of her surroundings. The front door opened, all sorts of wet footsteps on the carpet, the second floor window busted. And a bloody burgundy dahlia looking at her from a pot near the entrance. 

"Betrayal," she hummed, crouching down beside Alana.

Will looked at her as if she was crazy. He had just called the ambulance and left Alana his phone. 

"The flowers," Y/n pointed out, "I guess he's inside.” 

"Jack's there too," Alana choked out.

Y/N was surprised, she thought Alana's rib cage was too damaged to speak, but Alana proved her wrong. Will nodded and stood up, his gun in both hands. Y/n stayed a little longer, not caring that her hair was now sticking to her ears and causing her to feel cold.

----●----●----●----

As she opened the door to the kitchen, the smell of blood hit her. There were knives, plates and glass everywhere, two pairs of shoes standing in the midst of it all. As she looked up, Hannibal's silhouette greeted her.  

"You were supposed to leave!" Will was standing in front of him.

"I couldn't leave without you two," Hannibal said affectionately. 

Y/n did not know who 'you two' meant, but had a hunch that it included her. Strangely, Hannibal didn't even spare her a look, placing his palm on Will's cheek as if to caress it. They both had such an intense gaze, the sexual tension almost making Y/n turn around to give them some privacy. The scenery looked like a theater piece, a tragedy at that. They dove into their world, where she didn't exist and where they spoke in a different language, or maybe she just lost her hearing from how loud her heart was beating.  Either way, Y/n wanted to separate them, to drag her dad back to their house, back to their dogs. 

She did not see the knife coming from her point of view. Her father simply yelped and took a step forward, crashing into Hannibal's arms. This wasn't real, no. Hannibal would never hurt Will, he was like the other half of his soul, she lied to herself. But there was a red stain on his shirt and when Hannibal embraced him, the weapon remained in his hand, as if to mock them. Y/n stood motionless, no sound could break through her frozen vocal chords. She never thought this would happen, her chest tightening and her eyes filling with tears of pure terror.

The impact of Will's body aligned with her first fallen tear. His body fell directly into a pool of Jack's blood, his pants soaking it up. A few droplets of their mixed blood landed on her shoe, ruining her white trainers. Y/n swallowed nauseously, not daring to look into her fathers eyes. 

Hannibal leaned forward, his crescent-shaped blade back on the counter. 

"I have let you know me, see me," Hannibal paused as Will struggled to breathe, "I gave you a rare gift, but you didn't want it.”

"Didn't I?" Will insisted heartbroken, his eyebrows knitted tightly together. He seemed distressed, but more than anything, he was furious. 

Y/n shut herself off, not wanting to remember her father so frail, choosing to merely listen. And when she heard Hannibal mention the shattered teacup again, something in her snapped. She opened her pocket knife behind her back, using it for the first time since she bought it after the encounter with Tobias. Her fight-or-flight instinct flipped a coin and settled on fight. In a blink of an eye, she was standing behind Hannibal, her knife placed just under his jaw.

Y/n had no idea what she was doing. Her mind told her to end it, to be free at last. But her heart knew that was not possible, not in this life. She couldn't stop shaking, so she applied more force, making him bleed a little.  Will sucked in his breath, not quite understanding what was going on as this was out of character for her. 

"We are not a shattered teacup. You can't glue us back together and pretend like nothing happened," Y/n croaked in his ear, her voice high-pitched.

The blade suddenly twitched as a chuckle erupted from Hannibal’s chest.

"No, you certainly are not just a piece of pottery, but you are indeed fragile."

“You should have left when Will told you to. Instead you slaughtered them all, rightfully or not, whether you believe in God or not. There is no excuse for that,” Y/n hissed, her disappointment in him turning her words bitter. 

"I should have seen it coming…you made us so blind," her disappointment in herself turning her words sour.

Alana's happy face when she gave her a handmade sweater, or Jack and Bella's Christmas party, it was all over. Her bright future turned dim.

"I just wanted us to be a family. Why," she sobbed, a big droplet falling on the floor, "why can't I have a genuine family for once?"

----●----●----●----

Taking advantage of her state of mind, Hannibal grabbed her hand, pulling the knife away from his throat and spinning her around. He took her face in his palms, making her look at him. Y/n had teardrops on her chin, red spots on her irritated skin, her lips chapped and her eyelashes littered with fresh tears. He wiped them away so she had a clear view of him. However, he was no better, his normally perfectly sleek bangs were now messy, blood on his collar and some drying under his nose. He was bruised and in pain, yet he still looked like the most charismatic man she had ever seen. A charismatic man that attempted to erase her father's existence. 

"You don't get to start over after what you've just done, that's not fair!” she tried to wriggle out of his grip, “You hurt Will and you broke my trust. What do you expect us to do?" 

"Nothing, such is life. Don't fight it, let it all go."

Y/n raised her eyebrows in disbelief, a single tear running down her cheek. By now she could care less about having a weapon on her side, she felt she had already lost. 

"'And what if I don't want to let it go, to forget or forgive?" 

"Then you lose yourself," Hannibal directed his gaze back to Will, "I forgive Will. Will he forgive me?"

"'Don't. No, no, no!" Will uttered for the first time after his collapse.

It broke his heart, but there was nothing to be done, his design was meant to be finished and everything had to go according to plan. He pried her knife from her slack hold, unbeknown to her. 

"What are you tal-" Y/n's question couldn't be finished as she was silenced.

Her own knife, now in Hannibal's possession, was plunged blade deep into her side, almost identically to her father's. She yelped as she felt her muscles being torn apart, the stinging as Hannibal yanked it out causing her to choke. Her eyes opened wide as if trying to comprehend what was happening. The searing pain in her torso sent her to the ground, but it was the pain in her heart that made her burst out crying again, only this time it would not stop. Hannibal slowly lowered her down beside Will, splattering the tiles with her blood and tears like the rain would.

 She shook, struggling to catch her breath. With one hand she pressed against her wound, with the other she found her father's hand and weakly squeezed it. She felt his cold fingers, the energy draining from his body. 

"Dad," Y/n muffled her cries. 

Will wanted to help her, to hold her and console her, but he'd been bleeding for so long he couldn't even open his mouth. He had no choice but to watch with half-closed eyes as the entire room bathed in red.  

"You can make it all go away. Put your head back, close your eyes," Hannibal reached for Will's shoulder and met his eyes. "Wade into the quiet of the stream".

Y/n blinked at Hannibal for a second, but instead of a man, she saw a red horned monster with black dahlias sprouting from its eye sockets. So this was his true self, she realised.

“We were never meant to work, were we?” she clutched at Hannibal's trousers with her bloodied fingers. 

There was a silence for a while, Will's labored breathing slowing and her own sniffles fading to silent tears. Hannibal knelt down and ruffled her wet hair. 

And as her father closed his eyes, Hannibal asked her: "Will you forgive me?"

Y/n wanted to say no. She wanted to send him into the pond of burgundy ink as well, but her own mind said otherwise. 

"'Maybe, if you promise to make us work."

He smiled and stood up, not looking at her again. As his footsteps faded away, Y/n's warm blood grew chilly and her eyes heavy. With her last strength she kissed her father's knuckles, her last tears streaming down her face.  

----●----●----●----

She shed tears for how pitiful her ending was. And as her vision got blurrier, she bid farewell to her life.

[bexdrey]

READ MORE???

The sun was setting and Drakken had just landed the hovercar. Another failed attempt and this time Drakken was at his wits end. He got so focused in his own thoughts he had forgotten Shego was with him briefly. She'd tried a few times to get his attention but failed. This confused Shego, normally Drakken would go on and on about how next time would be different. He'd immediately try delving into another plan, but this time was different. This defeat felt worse than the others. Drakken found himself walking down parks path, his hands folded behind his back. His eyes fixated on the ground. Until he paused, lowered his arms and looked up at the sky. "I have failed time and time again. I've done countless plans, some... worse than others, but some of them were brilliant!" Drakken suddenly spoke. "And yet every single one of them end in some kind of failure. Heck, I can't even convince you to come with me to Karaoke night anymore." He didn't meet her gaze and only kicked at the ground slightly before furrowing a brow. He didn't even feel Shego's hand start gently stroking his shoulder. There was a good long pause before he finally spoke once more. "Shego... why do you stick around?" He questioned, his tone unreadable. "With every failure, you complain and tell me everything that went wrong, everything I should've done instead. You'd probably take over the world on your first try if you wanted to." His gaze finally lowered. He stared at the ground for a moment before looking over at Shego, who looked stunned and who's hand had stopped moving. "So why do you keep helping me?" His gaze bore into Shego's, desperately looking for an answer, something that made sense. Shego's hand finally left Drakken's shoulder and she began to run her fingers through her hair. She glanced away, her heart racing. What did she say to this? Did she even know why she stuck around? It was true, she probably could successfully take over the world if she wanted... and yet she didn't have the desire. Something about the thought didn't sit quite right. It was almost like some form of Deja Vu when she thought of it. So then why did she stick around? "Well..." She began before clearing her throat and glancing to the ground, a brow furrowing. "Unlike other villains... I can trust you. I can sleep comfortably at night knowing you aren't gonna try and do something to me while I sleep." She couldn't meet Drakken's gaze as she spoke. She wasn't entirely sure why this was so important to him, it was incredibly rare for Drakken to get like this. Normally she'd give some snappy response, such as the pay being good and her having a free room to bunk in every night instead of some shady hotel. She gave a little shudder at the memories of hotel jumping. "Not to mention you give me my own space to sleep." She muttered slightly. "And you know, you're really fun to bicker with. Easy to mock. Someone like... I dunno, Killigan or Monkey Fist either don't give me good responses or just don't respond at all. You make it interesting." She felt herself relax a little as it seemed she was beginning to understand, herself, why she stuck around. "And you aren't lazy. In fact, I'd say you work a little too much. You're creative, so even though plans fail, there are some that even I fully believed would work." She had stopped playing with her hair at this point and was gesturing with her words. "But I think... I think I stick around because I trust you. You think I'd trust someone like Dementor to help pull off a proper heist? He's too loud! And he doesn't think." She finally met his gaze and Drakken looked surprised. His brow was raised.

"I can't trust anyone else." She stated, matter-of-factly. She remained silent for a moment, trying to garner some expression off Drakken other than processing. "Now, are you gonna mope around the rest of the night feeling sorry for yourself, or are you gonna turn around, get back in the hovercar, take us home and start planning the next 'take over the world' scheme?" With this, Drakken blinked and smirked. "Yeah! You're right, I'm an evil genius, not a sad... lazy... erm.. man!" With this, Drakken turned heel and ran towards the hovercar, but not before grabbing Shego's hand and practically forcing her along. "Come Shego, we've much to do." Of course, at this point, Shego expected these sudden grabs. A part of her even liked them. She'd never admit this though.

--------------------------------------

Weee story and picture :D Mindless doodles turned finished lol

[cece693]

Oh No, He's Hot! (Jason Voorhees x M. Reader)

Summary: What m/n believed would be a rather simple job has him encountering a masked murderer named Jason. But, oh no, why does m/n feel weirdly attracted to the dominant man?

M/n didn't know what he expected when his friends urged him to apply to become a camp counselor for the newly, about to be opened, Camp Crystal Lake. Poison ivy, yes, fallen tree trunks, sure, but a 6 ft 5 masked man chasing him around with a machete, no. Having left his friends (because who would stick together when death was knocking on the door?), m/n ran through the dark campsite before noticing a decrepit-looking cabin ahead. Looking behind for any sight of the man, m/n opened the door before locking it behind him.

The room was dark, with a tiny twin bed in the corner, and no source of light nearby. Controlling his breathing so as to not attract the murderer, m/n just hoped Jason (if that was even his name) found entertainment in killing another camp counselor and forgot all about him.

M/n should've listened to the townspeople who warned him that the camp was a lost cause, that camp blood was inhabited by a monster, but m/n (like the dummy he is) waved them off. Well, now guess who was regretting doing that? Yeah, this guy.

"Huh." m/n mumbled, noticing that the cabin was rather stocked with supplies. Inching closer, m/m crouched to inspect the ground, noticing tiny bones formed into a pile. "Well, shit." Those were animal bones—meaning that this cabin was, more than likely, Jason's hideout.

Quietly scrambling back to the front door, m/n was about to return to the forest when heavy footsteps began inching towards the door. Knowing the weight didn't belong to any of his friends, m/n looked around for a hiding spot before the door was ripped open, revealing Jason. Letting out a scream, m/n instinctively ducked to the side, narrowly missing the swing of the machete. Knowing the murderer blocked his only exit, m/n knew he had to somehow disarm or disorientate Jason.

Adrenaline coursing through his veins, he scanned the room for anything that could serve as a makeshift weapon. Bingo. Noticing a heavy wooden chair nearby, m/n grabbed it and immediately swung it towards Jason's head. Celebrating as the man stumbled back, m/n made a dash for the open door and began running. However, it didn't take long before he felt a powerful force slamming into his back, sending him sprawling forward. "Oww..." m/n whispered, when his face connected with the ground, and a line of blood obscured his vision. Just great, he somehow managed to cut himself.

Forcibly turned unto his back, m/n watched as Jason bent down and gripped his neck. M/n's world seemed to spin. The pressure on his neck tightened, and he felt the air being slowly squeezed out of his lungs. Panic surged through him, but to his surprise, a strange sensation overcame the fear. Instead of pleading for mercy, an involuntary moan escaped his lips.

Curiosity and confusion could be seen in Jason's eyes while observing the male's response. The moans of pleasure, rather than cries of pain or pleas for mercy, were entirely new territory for the infamous killer. To ensure it wasn't a fluke, Jason tightened his grip once more, only to be met with another round of apparent pleasure from m/n.

"Didn't expect this, huh?" m/n wheezed, his words carrying a hint of both amusement and disbelief. The encounter had taken an unexpected turn, leaving both survivor and killer in uncharted territory. Jason's hold disappeared, and m/n, though slightly shaken, quickly stood on his feet. He looked at Jason. Really looked.

Besides the whole murder aspect, Jason was handsome. And yes, m/n knew he would be considered crazy for admitting such a fact, but the man did have some appeal—his bulky, muscular form for one. Still staring at one another, m/n let out a chuckle.

"So are you going to kill me or...."

Before he could finish his sentence, Jason, emerging from his trance-like state, turned the machete so the handle could be seen. In a swift and unexpected motion, the handle of the machete swung over m/n's head, connecting with a solid impact. The woods briefly echoed with the sound, and m/n crumpled to the ground, consciousness slipping away.

This was a perfect opportunity for Jason to kill the man, but something held him back. Securing his machete to his belt, Jason, instead, lifted m/n from the ground and stalked back to his cabin.

Gently laying the male on the bed, Jason retrieved a cool of rope before skillfully bounding m/n's hands and feet to the bedposts. Ensuring there were no other exits besides the front door, Jason, with a stoic determination, left the cabin. The night was still young, and as Jason ventured into the darkness, his elusive silhouette vanished into the shadows.

[andromeda-nova-writing]

My Favorite Actor Is…

Fem!Reader

Summary: Infatuation over a film star. It’s a very common thing to have happen. There’s not much to be done over it besides talking about said infatuation over that actor. And if there is jealousy to be had at least handle it as healthy as possible.

Words: 975

AN: I wrote almost all of this on my phone as I was dealing with the holidays when it was written. Just when I thought I would have time to myself to edit the fic and make sure things made sense, I got a new puppy. So it was either edit the fic and be unsure if things made sense or get help. Thanks @milkstore. You are the best. Puppies are tiring but very cute.

“Ayaka had me and Thoma go with her to see a film earlier today,” Y/N explained as she poured herself and Ayato a cup of tea. The two of them were still warming up after coming back to the estate from Inazuma City. The winter air had been so chilly with flurries landing on them but not sticking to the ground.

“Did the three of you enjoy yourselves?” He took a towel trying to dry off his hair. Even though it was flurries, being out there long enough meant that two of them were a little soaked. They had hurried in quickly changing into something dry leaving just hair affected by the snow.

“Yes. It was quite exciting. But I did have one gripe with it.” Ayato could hear the disappointment in her voice changing so fast from the happy one she had started the conversation with.

“What would that be?” He left the towel wrapped around his shoulders to avoid his hair dripping. Ayato grabbed the teacup and took a sip embracing the warmth it brought him.

“There was a new actor in the film. He had the most gorgeous eyes but only had a few lines of dialog.” Y/N rolled her eyes before she frowned. “It was an absolute waste of perfect talent. And to make matters worse, that's the only film he's in.”

Ayato remained silent before letting out a single word in judgment, “Oh.” Now he wasn't one to let jealousy affect him. That was a silly emotion filled with insecurities that he didn't have. But to say he wasn't the slightest bit affected by her words was a lie. One that he would tell because who was he to dump feelings he should process on his own onto his lover.

Any understanding of his emotions was ignored. “Ayaka had told me he even turned down a role that would have given him more screen time. It’s such a crime really. What I would give to see him on screen for those two hours rather than just two minutes.” He could practically see the hearts in her eyes. 

Ayato didn’t think there would come a day where he’d be annoyed even if it was just slightly by the look she had in her eyes. There wasn’t anything to feel threatened by though. If she had to stand by his side while someone tried to openly flirt with him while he and Y/N were holding hands, he could at the least let her fantasize about someone she would never meet.

“Maybe you’ll get lucky and he will get cast in another movie.” He did his best to remain engaged in the conversation. When he looked down at his cup filled with the most gorgeous green tea he hated the reflection that looked back. 

“I wish. Sadly he’s too busy with other projects to even think about acting.” Ayato enjoyed the small victory he had gained even though Y/N was upset at the fact she was telling him. Who knew her love of the arts would betray him?

“Well just be glad that he was able to appear in this film.” He comforted her. Maybe the lack of rest was getting to him if such a disgusting emotion as jealousy was trying to make an appearance.

“I am. I do wish I could at least meet the actor and tell him how well his performance was. Thoma said you’d be able to make that happen.” Y/N had placed an empty teacup on the table. He hadn’t even noticed that she was drinking it this entire time.

All Ayato knew was Thoma who he thought was filled with so much loyalty had betrayed him unknowingly earlier. Now he had to compete for his wife’s attention with some mystery actor that he would do his best to never let her meet. “If they are busy it might be easier to get an autograph.” He hoped that Ayaka would be okay with him using her as a way to talk through these emotions later.

“Really? But even Ayaka agreed that he would find the time to talk.” Y/N spoke with a frown that hid the smirk she really had. Not that Ayato could notice at the moment.

How do you ground your adult younger sister and man who grew up almost like a second sibling to him? “That’s not guaranteed dear. It’s a bit of wishful thinking. Ayaka and Thoma don’t even know the man. Who even is this actor anyway?” His composure was finally beginning to break. He wasn’t proud of it.

Y/N laughed. “I didn’t even tell you the movie we saw. I’m sorry. The movie was The Two Musketeers.” It wasn’t often that Ayato felt embarrassed. “The actor was a man named Kamisato Ayato. You sure I won’t be able to meet him?”

It was at moments like this that he was reminded why he and Y/N had wed. It was also moments like this that reminded him one of the reasons they wed was that they both enjoyed a bit of mischief and teasing each other now and then. It was something that lately he had been catching her off guard with. And here he was getting a taste of his own medicine at the moment.

“Y/N.”

“Yes.” She answered with a laugh. 

“I would prefer if you would try to not make me jealous of myself.” Ayato requested with a sigh.

“You know I was wondering when you would catch on.”

“It’s been a long day. A long week.” He explained. She could see the tiredness on his face.

“Why don’t we get my favorite actor to bed then instead of trying to hold a conversation about the day?”

“That would be smart.”

[oneshlut]

Can you do The Amazing Digital Circus characters meeting the reader for the first time?

A/N: ofcofc!! thanks for the request, i ADORE writing for tadc! <33 (keeping these platonic since most characters i write for in tadc are platonic)

Another New Home (TADC & Reader) [Headcanons]

Rules For Requesting

Characters I Will Write For

Masterlist

Summary: General meeting/friendship headcanons for ALL characters of TADC

Caine:

Seeing as he's the ringmaster, Caine introduces himself first!

Tries to be a bit less louder than he was with Pomni. She's actually been talking with him lately, trying to get him to be a bit more friendly! And human!

Can you blame him for being slightly rude? He's not even human, so he can't be blamed for not understanding certain emotions.

But you help him understand! He'll ask you from time to time about what certain human things mean.

When you first spawned into the circus, Caine helped pick out a name for you! By that I mean he chose it for you. You didn't get a say in anything.

Your relationship now? Well, he makes sure you don't get abstracted! That's enough for a good friend, right?

Pomni:

Immediately freaked out hearing a new name in the theme song. DESPERATELY hopes you're not too weird, like Kinger or.. Jax? Well, she hopes you're not rude like Jax

After meeting you, she's pleasantly surprised! You two can kinda relate to your situation. Jax likes to call you two the "newbies".

Pomni tries her best to explain to you what the digital circus even means for you, what abstraction is, and what not. She may not be able to answer all of your questions, though.

Thinks you're one of the "normal" ones to hang out with. Tries sticking with you during Caine's adventures. (She just needs someone else that gets her. Luckily, you fit that role perfectly.)

If she's comfortable enough with you, some days she may visit you in your room! Pomni doesn't do this often, though, so feel lucky.

Overall, the two of you are existential crisis buddies! If you become friends with her, be prepared for lots of deep thoughts and.. well, confusion.

Ragatha:

Ragatha is always eager to meet someone new in the circus! Despite how dire your situation may be, she tries her best to cheer you up.

Every morning she checks the doors before going down to the grounds, and that morning she found your door. Your design intrigued her, she just had to meet you!

She definitely explains abstraction better than Pomni tried to. When you get nervous about.. well, going insane, she heavily reassures you. Although Caine's adventures may seem like hell, they're actually pretty fun! Sometimes.

Ragatha shows you to your room, before she lets you get to know everyone else. She tries to stay optimistic for you, but you can kinda feel her underlying worries about the situation as she explains it.

She's definitely one of the easier people in the circus to get along with. If you get to know her a bit better, she may open up to you! Ragatha will try to tell you everything she knows about her past self, but she's left with very little wisps of what she used to be like.

Ragatha is on the more nicer and motherly side of the group, so when you can you try to spend time with her. If you put in the right effort, Ragatha will become really fond of you!

Jax:

If you've read my other works, you'll know Jax isn't one for new people. And at the same time he is. He's really indecisive.

But meeting you wasn't too bad. You weren't overwhelmingly annoying, but you did have some elements to your character that he could tease or make fun of.

Your first impression of Jax was.. honestly kind of bad. He was a complete dick, what more do you expect? To say the least, his antics did not help your increasing confusion.

If you still hang out with him after your horrible introductions, he would be.. amused. Becoming friends with Jax was just setting yourself for failure. Walking into a bear trap.

He teased you, pranked you relentlessly, and made sure you failed horribly during Caine's adventures. Why? I dunno, it was funny.

Jax will tone down his asshole nature as time goes on, and the closer you are with him.

You'll know he's placed his full trust in you when he asks you to help him out with a prank.

Zooble:

According to Zooble, her name for you was 'weirdo' in her head until she met you. As is for everyone, I suppose.

Your first meeting was.. awkward? You had asked her how her limbs worked, detachable and all. It was intriguing to hear about, though.

One thing you shared in common with her was probably both of your lackluster attempts at Caine's adventures, before just deciding to give up.

When you were too tired to commit to an adventure, you'd hang out with Zooble. She was nice company, and much different from others who were much more chaotic. Spending time with Zooble gave your brain a rest, a chance to slow down. And.. it was nice.

Zooble may seem unwilling to befriend you, but I promise she's trying. Not many people actually try to befriend her, unless it's Jax. If you count Jax's pranks as a way of befriending.

In all honesty, when you first met her, you kinda thought she would be.. crazy. Like Kinger. Maybe it was her design, with all the colors in all its glory, but you found yourself pleasantly surprised!

As long as you aren't a natural annoying person, or push buttons like Jax, Zooble eill probably grow fond of you! She won't admit it, though.

Gangle:

Oohh, Gangle. She's a tough one. Right now she's focused on her comedy mask, and doesn't even notice you when you first spawn in.

When you come to say hi, she's still in sorrows. She wishes you could've seen her happier side when you first arrived..

You try to help Gangle fix her mask, but you.. kinda end up making it worse. You apologize profusely. Don't worry, she forgives you. She may have just cried a bit more.

The more you hang out with her, the more comfortable she will get with you. She's a tough one to break, so it may take a while for Gangle to become fully trusting in you.

Try not to make any sudden movements or bursts of affection, because she will cry. Gangle, being as emotional as she is, will probably break down if you're too nice to her. They're happy tears, I swear. She's just not as used to affection like she was before.

As you grow closer, you begin to notice the little things. Gangle begins to show hints of smiles, and if you're lucky, she'll giggle a bit at a joke.

If you're patient with Gangle, she'll get attached to you. Sorry, no take backsies. She's just happy to finally have someone to feel safe around.

Kinger:

Kinger is.. a wild card. Don't get me wrong, Kinger is one of my favorite characters, but you have to admit he's a bit startling at times. And confusing. So imagine meeting him after being transported to another reality, already confused enough with your current situation, and now having to deal with Kinger's personality.

Him being a bit, you know.. coo-coo, he kinda ignored you at first. Kinger thought he was just hallucinating again, as per usual. Then you spoke, and he immediately jumped.

Speaking to him leaves you a bit frazzled, but you don't mind. He asks a lot of confusing questions about you, like how many half-syllables are in your name. You don't even know your name yet..

But you spend time with him anyways, he can be fun at times! He's decently helpful on adventures, and is a joy to have outside of Caine's antics. (What I'm trying to say here is that you build fortresses together.)

Kinger categorizes all of his friends using chess pieces. He says your a knight. Not even he knows why, he just one day told you that you seemed like a knight.

Grow close enough, and this humanized chess piece will ramble on and on about plants and insects to you. When he's ranting, you can barely make out anything he says, as his words naturally seem to blend together. Honestly? He's probably neurodivergent.

One day he'll tell you about Queenie. But it's gonna take a while. Estimated 5 years. For now, you two are great friends! In a way, Kinger feels like this weird childhood friend you never had. And Kinger.. still sees you as a knight.

[marlynnofmany]

Things to Do on Ice

I adjusted the heat shawl against my neck, tugging my collar over it to keep out the chill breeze. Heatseekers sure knew what they were doing when it came to warming devices. A regular scarf had nothing on this. It was almost enough to let me forget the snowy temperatures on this alien planet. 

Not that I could fully forget, with the snow drifting down into the streets anywhere there wasn't a storefront with a heat-field umbrella. The city-goers were from a range of species, and anyone who didn't have heavy fur was bundled up against the cold in some way. 

Even Zhee, who objected to coats on the grounds that they covered up his glorious purple exoskeleton, was sporting a range of scarves and bracelets that radiated heat. It seemed like an inefficient way to keep warm to me, but that was his business. 

Speaking of business, there were hours left before our ship was due to leave, and everyone was taking the chance to see the sights. Zhee and I had volunteered to scout out the tourism hub. Several others would be joining us shortly. 

“Is that the sports arena?” I asked when a wide building loomed ahead. 

“Yes.” Zhee pointed out a sign with his pincher arm. I'd missed it because of all the burly, yeti-like locals milling around in front of it. “One building, many sports, all open to anyone.” 

I was more than a little curious to see what sort of sports were played here. “Let's take a look! Paint and Eggskin will probably come here first anyway; it's bound to be warmer in there.” 

“A valid point,” Zhee agreed, stepping quickly. His clicky bug feet had the most adorable little booties on, for all the world like something a toddler would wear to keep from slipping on the kitchen floor. The sparkly thread woven through the rim probably meant they were high fashion where Mesmers were concerned. I hoped they were waterproof.

I tromped through the slush in my normal human boots, and soon enough we entered the arena doorway to a much more comfortable temperature. I found the control tab for the heat shawl and turned it off, though I left it draped under my shirt.

Zhee deactivated several bracelets. “A respectable range of sports,” he observed.

I scanned the signs. “I don’t recognize the names of any of these.”

“The viewing areas are this way,” Zhee said, padding off down the main hallway. “Perhaps you will recognize one if you see it in action.”

Surprisingly enough, I did.

“Is that hockey?” I asked a moment later, staring through the big window at the ice rink where two mixed teams of local yetis and offworld Smashers careened around in chase of something small. The full-body thumps vibrated through the floor.

“They’re calling it ‘puck chase,’ Zhee said, reading a sign.

“That’s amazing. We have this exact sport where I’m from.” I looked for differences. The puck looked bigger and heavier, and the sticks were a different shape. Judging by the amount of violence going on, the rules were probably different too. But it was very much the same on the surface, with goalies in front of nets and everything. “I suppose it’s an obvious sort of game to think up when there’s a lot of ice around, but still. I know a few people who would have loved to see this.”

Zhee sniffed. “It’s a bit pedestrian.”

“I suppose,” I said with a smile. “Not your style?”

“I’ve never been one for the more feminine sports,” Zhee said with a flick of his antennae.

“Feminine?” I asked.

He pointed with a pincher arm, keeping it carefully folded. “All this ‘protect the nest; steal the enemy’s egg’ nonsense.”

I blinked. “I guess that’s one way to think of it.”

“Judging by that sign though, there promises to be something more masculine down this way,” Zhee said. He headed off down the hallway.

I hurried to follow. The sign in question had another name I didn’t recognize, though I could guess. I dodged around a trio of yetis — which smelled like cinnamon and herbal tea, with none of the wet-dog scent I’d been subconsciously expecting. I reminded myself not to make unflattering assumptions, and caught up with Zhee just as he turned the corner.

“There we are!” he said in satisfaction. “Now that’s a sport. Even Trrili would have to appreciate this one.”

Figure skating. Aliens of a variety of body types and clothing styles glided around on the ice, leaping and spinning and generally being as flashy as they could. Somebody with wings was even doing a high-speed series of flips that were almost certainly a mating dance. Every skater moved past the others with elegance and grace, a far cry from the violence in the other room.

“I’ll be here for a while,” said Zhee’s voice, already farther away.

I turned to see him gliding toward the entrance to the arena, reactivating his heat bracelets and pulling a currency card from a belt pouch. A vending machine just inside the door looked like it sold force-field ice skates to fit any foot.

“All right, I’ll keep an eye out for the others,” I called after him, though I doubt he was listening. He disappeared through the door in a gust of cold air.

I looked around at the passersby, some of whom were watching the action with recording devices. I quietly got out my phone. I had a suspicion that seeing a praying-mantis-shaped alien strut his stuff in the manly art of ice dancing was about to be very memorable.

I was right.

~~~

Shamelessly inspired by this post.

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!

[savnofilter]

In His Arms | h. sero (ver.)

            Pro Hero!Hanta Sero x [GN]Reader

CONTENT WARNING(S): sfw, angst, fluff, comforting!Sero, panick attack, mentions of nightmares, slight mentions of past emotional trauma but nothing serious, established relationship.

COUNT: .9k words.

I/B: in his arms by me.

READ MORE: masterlist + [students masterlist]

A/N: i love this picture. 🥹 was gonna use a different one but i decided to go digging to find more sero pics. sero is undoubtedly so underrated it's sickening... ALSO TJIS IS EO LATE I AM SO SORRY. didnt want to make a copycat of the ojiro one yet i hadnt even reviewed what i wrote for it haha. anyways, hope y'all like it! thank you, (crairo) anon!

The room was too bright and it felt as though everything was caving in.

Laying in bed offered you no real comfort as your labored breaths made you feel suffocated, your eyes now starting to well with tears as anxiety rose within you. You wrapped your arms around yourself and curled into a ball, a small sob coming from you as you feebly attempted to soothe yourself. Usually, you had the comfort of your boyfriend next to you to ground you, but today you were by yourself.

The cool air taunting you synonymous with the cold sheets served as a reminder that you were all alone. That the fears and anxieties from your nightmare didn't stop once you woke up, it instead followed you as you awoke.

You felt an uncomfortable shiver rack through your body as your eyes desperately tried to adjust to the bright lights in the room. You would think waking up out of a nightmare during the daytime would ease you, but you were wrong. It felt overwhelmingly stimulating and your brain and body were desperately trying to find something to ease the panic that it was experiencing.

In your shivers you're able to peek at the clock on your nightstand, the digital tool letting you know that it is soon to be afternoon, hopefully in time for your boyfriend to come get you. You couldn't coax it out of yourself to physically reach out for your phone and shut your eyes in hopes that he would arrive sooner than later. As you closed your eyes, luckily the images of what you had experienced didn't stick but the interconnectedness of the dream clung to you deeply. There wasn't a moment where your body wasn't paralyzed in discomfort.

Heavy buzzing on your nightstand tickles the back of your brain, the static-like noise in your busy mind going completely ignored. It wasn't until you realized that it had been going on for a few minutes that you realized that it was your phone making that disturbance. You open back up your glossy eyes and curl further within yourself, not ready to confront anything that could mess with your already sensitive emotions.

After a while, the jittering had stopped and you were left with the silence of yourself. Still, as you came down from your breakdown tears left your eyes although dry. You refused to move from your spot to help anchor yourself. You no longer felt cold in the embrace of your sheets, now covered in a layer of sweat and feeling hotter than ever. The switch in sensations added on to your already difficult challenge of balancing your senses.

Distantly, you hear the front door to your apartment unlock and soon enough strong and hurried footsteps quickly pad their way to your shared bedroom door; it now opens with a wild swing.

"Y/N?!" Sero, your long-time boyfriend called out in fear.

You whimper at the sound of him and don't bother to move, a sniffle sounding from you alerting him of what state you were in.

Sero softly coos at the fetus positioned lump under the sheets and gently kneels next to your bed as he takes you in.

"Another bad dream?"

You nod looking away from him, feeling embarrassed at how susceptible you were to these things. He gives your forehead a comforting kiss before standing up and pulling you up for a hug, the manhandling you were used to since it was the only way you were able to move in moments like this. As you welcomed his warm and gentle embrace, another shocked sob ran through your body as you found immense comfort in his hold.

He whispered sweet reassurance in your ear, hand rubbing your arm soothingly as if handling a baby who was shaken up. At least that's what you felt like. You had always been like this as a child and only a few people understood that the only way you could come down from your awful night terrors was by coddling like this. In many relationships, you were left humiliated because of the lack of understanding but Sero never left you hanging. Whatever you needed, he was always ready to drop everything and take care of you.

"I thought something went wrong; I called your phone like a million times." Sero jokingly mumbles against your temple, his hands and arms giving you another squeeze before allowing you to slowly untangle yourself from his hold.

"Am sorry…" You pout and wipe your tears, his hands are more than happy to replace yours and wipe the excess himself.

"Don't worry about it, 'kay?" He gives you his signature, warm smile, and holds your hands in his as he places his forehead against yours. There's an urge to laugh at the comical angle he provides you. "You still up for that picnic? I was thinking of getting us boba on the way there."

If you were by yourself you would've stayed the whole day in your apartment, drained. But thanks to him, he always knew how to make your life easier.

    all rights reserved © do NOT steal, alter or copy this work.

[kaeyas-beloved]

dust

Character: Albedo

— when chalk crumbs, all that’s left is dust

CWs: gn!reader (no pronouns), ANGST, hurt/no comfort, death (Albedo), could be read as romantic or platonic, I bullshit a research entry in this, spoilers for Albedo

val’s no sympathy november masterlist

He... he always talked about losing control. You never really understood what he meant by it, but you do remember the nights holding him tight and swearing that he would never fall to such evil. It just wasn't something he'd do, and your unwavering faith in him always brought him some form of comfort, even when he never believed you for a second.

"It's nice, to have someone place their trust in me that is."

But now, as you stand in the middle of the aftermath, smoke heavy in the air, buildings crumbling all around, any vision wielder that could fight congregating in the middle of the city and a pile of dust on the ground, you're left to wonder if there was any stopping what fate had ordained.

For a split second you could swear you heard nothing. When the arrow was fired and struck the threat to Mondstadt - struck Albedo, you remind yourself, he wasn't something, he was someone - you didn't know what to feel. You could feel the eyes of the people on you as you walked without thought toward the pile of powder. The pain as you scraped your knees on the concrete was nothing compared to the pain in your chest.

"The Chalk Prince... I see now..." you mumbled, hesitating to touch the substance.

"Why are you called the Chalk Prince? Don't tell me it's because you were created from chalk?" You'd asked one day while helping him in his lab, sitting not far from him on a stool.

Albedo remained silent, going back and forth between skimming through notes and adjusting the settings on his burner. "That is a conversation for another time. Now please, could you hand me two lizard tails? One blue and one red."

He never did outright answer you, but you remember him talking about how all living things will eventually and inevitably return to their original state. Maybe this is what he was trying to tell you.

The hand on your shoulder brings you back, but you can't bring yourself to look up at who it is (you later learn it was Kaeya, who had his own complicated expression). From there everything was a mess of colours and muddled words. You catch a couple apologies for your loss, people running to check on their loved ones and their homes, and discussions about what to do now. Nothing really sticks though, a case of looking but not seeing, hearing but not listening. You do, however, remember hours later being handed a wooden box, Albedo's name, birth and death date carved on the front.

“You were the closest to him. Klee also received something similar.” Fuck, you think, a fresh wave of tears coming along. Your heart breaks at just the thought of how devastated and confused Klee must be. Seeing the instant change in emotions, Jean quietly leaves you be.

The hardest part though was going through his office. It was a day you thought you’d never be prepared for. When you arrived you were proven right, stuck hesitating at the doorway.

You’d never again see him sat at his desk, documenting his findings or refilling his stock of alchemy ingredients. That painting in the corner by the window will forever lay unfinished and the small bed never to be slept in again.

His presence will slowly fade and there is nothing you can do to stop it.

With a heavy heart and tears in your eyes, you start the long and agonizing process of packing his things away. Beginning with his desk you put away various books, loose papers, displays and even the drawings Klee had gifted him over the years. You moved on to strip his bedding, then pack away his paintings. By time you reached the last bookshelf the warm hue of the evening sun was already illuminating the room.

Letting out a quiet yet shaky sigh you get to work again. Since the books were already in order you took care to keep them close to one another, taking off three or four at a time. Despite how gentle you tried to be though you managed to drop a few, the covers too heavy and slipping from your grasp. You’re quick to apologize even though there wasn’t anyone to apologize to. Still, it felt like you should.

As you collect the hardcovers and the loose papers that were neatly placed between the pages, a particular title catches your eye. Gentle setting what you gathered off to the side you begin reading through the research entry, which was dated about a year and a half ago.

During my research into the mysteries of life and creation, many documents from various backgrounds mentioned the potential of substances holding 'memories'. Some focused on the nature aspects, how trees and lakes remember what and who has affected them. Others however stated that all tangible beings can be included in this theory. Due to the evidence presented, as well as previous knowledge, I believe both are possible.

Molecular wise, it’s not out of the scope of reality, and it’s backed up in the biological aspect as well if heredity is taken into account. It raises the question of just how far alchemy can stretch the laws of nature, and if this can be applied to any and all substances that have been touched by human and nature's hands.

The moment you finish reading a tiny spark of hope ignites within you, and your body launched into autopilot before you could even think. Chalk is a substance. The chalk was him so it would have memories of him. I could bring him back! You start scanning for similar papers around the room and in his notebooks, hoping to find more clues; you collect the things you think you'd need to go through with this act of divinity.

Just as you're about to dump the first chemical that comes to mind you freeze. You... don't actually have any idea what you're doing...

No, you think, inhaling a shaky breath, I've watched him do these kinds of things so many times, I have to know something. You go to pour again yet stop once more; as the bottle trembles in midair you know deep down it's true, you don't know the first thing about creating artificial life, let alone alchemy.

The bottle thunks back onto the surface of the table and a new wave of tears begins to flow, though this time not because of loss but due to hopelessness.

Your legs are quick to give out from beneath you, your back leaning against the desk and as you bring your knees to your chest, sobs filling the forever quiet space, you manage to choke out your true feelings.

"Albedo... I don't know what to do..."

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[koshkamartell]

Yours For The Night

Chapter 1 - Strangers In The Night

Chapter warnings - mentions of drug use, alcohol, and sex work, reader suffers from anxiety, mentions of sexual harassment.

The town was quiet tonight, even more so than usual. There was some kind of event in the next town over (a carnival or festival, you weren't entirely sure) and a lot of the townsfolk had travelled there in search of entertainment, a distraction from the dreary mundane day to day life of living in a small country town. The usual popular nighttime haunts, like the Bullhorn Bar and the Gin Lounge, still had a steady trickle of regular patrons slink through their doors, but everywhere else was lifeless and somber.

You lean back against the gas station wall and take a sip from the straw of the the slushie cup you are holding. It was around 11pm but you weren't in any rush to go home. You were living with your alcoholic cousin in a trailer park on the northern edge of town and half the time she was passed out or missing for days at a time. There was no warmth to return to, no hugs or smiles to greet you, nothing luring you back there except the guarantee of shelter and a bed. Your small circle of friends have equally shitty living circumstances; you all spend the majority of your time roaming the streets and haunting secret hideouts that have been sacred territory for runaways and strays for as long as the town has existed. The 24 hour gas station was one of the places you frequented and you felt comfortable to loiter there at such a late hour.

You're alone tonight. Some of your friends hitchhiked to the neighbouring town to check out the event. Another was spending the night with her much older boyfriend, the guy who often plied you all with weed and alcohol. Two others had been missing for a week now, rumoured to have disappeared after going to score drugs from a local dealer with a sordid history. With no company and no point in going home you chose to just drift for a while. You didn't mind being alone though. You learned from a young age to appreciate solitude.

You lower yourself to the ground with your back upright against the wall and your knees bent. You put the slushie next to you on the cool concrete and fish in your jacket pocket for the small rectangular tin you had grabbed from your cousin's bedroom a couple days ago. Smoking wasn't a vice you indulged in all the time, but you liked to smoke when it was available to you; cigarettes took the edge off the anxiety and it gave you something to focus on, the nicotine offering you just the right hit of dopamine to keep you afloat.

You retrieve the tin from your jacket and flick open the lid to reveal a thin hand rolled cigarette, the last remaining one from your cousin's stash. You pop the end inbetween your lips and reach back into your pocket in search of a lighter.

"Come on," you mutter lowly in annoyance, the cigarette dangling from your mouth.

After a second of searching it was clear your pocket was empty. Fuck. You must have lost the lighter somewhere during your travels today. You had no money left, either, and the guy working behind the counter at the gas station was nice but you knew there was no way he would give you a light.

You sigh heavily and bow your head, crestfallen. It may have just been a shitty stick of tobacco but you really needed it right now. You needed the comfort of chemicals filling your lungs and decompressing the pent up tension threatening to burst right out your body. Especially today.

"Needa light?" A baritone voice spoke suddenly, shattering the haze of your despair.

You lift your head up. A man stands just a couple feet away from your sitting position on the ground, but his height makes him tower over you. Where did he come from?

He was alot older than you, evident by the crowsfeet and wrinkles etched on his face and the salt and pepper colouring of his patchy beard and in the curls ontop of his head. You guessed he was 50 years old, maybe more. He was also incredibly handsome, with an aquiline nose and plush lips. His dark brown eyes seemed troubled as he stared down at you underneath his furrowed brows.

You were too preoccupied with openly staring at him that you did not respond to his question.

"Well?" The man gruffed, raising his eyebrows and tilting his face slightly downward. There was a hint of authority in his gesture.

"Oh," you mumble, eyes blinking rapidly. "Shit, sorry. Yeah, a light would be good."

The man took a small step closer to you, his boots scraping on the dirt of the concrete, and then crouched down to your level. His broad chest and large arms strained under his green flannel, his gorgeous face less than a foot from yours. You instantly felt crowded and overwhelmed.

The man held out a lighter in his large hand and downpresses the ignition button with his large thumb, sparking a flame. He stares at you closely as you lean in and ignite the tip of your smoke on the dancing blue-yellow flame. You pull back and his thumb slips off the button.

"Thanks," you say quietly, your eyes staring into his.

The man just nods and stands back up, his knees cracking audibly as he ascends. He takes a step backward, his eyes never leaving you. You tilt your head to gaze at him while you inhale.

"'S bad for you, ya know," he murmurs, looking back at you with a kind of gentle intensity that causes a tiny pull of desire to whirl in your belly.

"Mmm," you hum softly. You exhale through your mouth and give a little shrug. "Gonna die someday, anyways."

His jaw ticks and something unidentifiable shifts in his expression, a flash in his eyes that comes and goes in a split second. There's a few moments of silence while you regard one another. It isn't awkward but the air between you is loaded.

You have been flirted with since you were 12 year old, been persued by both boys and grown men since you were 14, learned how to use your body to your advantage soon after. You know when someone is interested in what's under your clothes. But this seems different. There is no flirty banter or coy smiles. It make you feel a bit unnerved to recognise that you can't tell what he is thinking, only that he looks like he's struggling with something internally.

You break eye contact first and look down to examine the chipped nail polish on your fingernails. His hands come to rest on his hips and his head turns to look left and right, scanning the area around the gas station. The place has been deserted tonight save for an occasional customer. The man's eyes land back to your face.

"What's your name?" He asks. You glance back up at him and tell him your name, then ask for his.

"Joel."

You nod to indicate you've heard him and take a drag of your smoke. Joel watches you.

"What're you doin' out here so late, all by yourself?" Joel asks. There's a twang to his words - he sounds Texan.

"Haven't got anywhere else to be," you answer nonchalantly. "Why are you out here so late, by yourself?" You parrot back to him with a slight smirk.

"Wanted to get a cup'a coffee. But that ain't a problem cos I'm a grown man, ain't no one gonna cause trouble with me." Joel replies with matter of fact confidence. "But you, well..."

You roll your eyes a little and inhale another drag. Ah, there it is. That is probably his deal - the upstanding citizen showing concern for the safety of today's youth running wild on the streets. You have had similar interactions with strangers before - mainly with self righteous religious do-gooders trying to offer words of wisdom and free meals at their church, which you and your friends declined.

"I ain't jokin' around, little girl," Joel warns. The stern edge of his voice makes you meet his gaze. "It's dangerous out here for someone like you."

You scoff and shake your head. "I can handle myself, so save me the speech, dude."

Joel sighs heavily and runs a hand over his beard. He seems genuinely concerned, almost exasperated by your indifference. You watch him, secretly delighting in how harassed he looks.

"Why do you care, anyway? You don't know me." You sweep away a lock of hair that's fallen infront of your eyes.

"I don't know, guess I feel bad seein' someone so young alone on the streets," Joel mutters quietly. "Where are your parents, they ain't worried about ya?"

You turn your head to the side and pretend to be distracted by a passing car in the distance. "Don't have parents, they're dead."

You hear Joel inhale a deep breath and then exhale long and heavy. You can tell he feels bad. You've gotten used to this reaction; the pitying sadness in the person's eyes, the apologies that spill from their mouth, the awkward tenderness in their need to hug you. You hate it.

"Shit," Joel drawls. "Sorry to hear that."

You take a final puff of your rolled cigarette and then flick it over the pavement. "It's fine," you say flatly. You push yourself up from the ground to stand, taking the sushie as you rise. "Thanks for the light, Joel."

"Where you goin'?" He asks, frowning. You shift the strap of your compact purse further up your shoulder.

"Phone's almost dead, gotta charge it."

You turn to walk away but Joel's hand, warm and so big, touches your shoulder to stop you. "I gotta charger in my room. I'm stayin' at the motel across the road, room 15."

You let out a little gasp at the sudden soothing heat that blooms under the unexpected weight of his hand. You stare at up him and he's gazing down at you, his dark brown eyes roaming over your face, and you think you can detect an underlying urgency in his expression, something pleading.

You step away from Joel and look down at your shoes. He pulls his hand back and clears his throat. "'S up to you," he mumbles. "Just offerin', ain't gonna push you."

You kick at some pebbles on the pavement and fiddle with the straw of your slushie. Joel's gaze is intense and you still can't quite decipher what he's thinking. In your experience older men approaching girls your age have little else on their mind but sex. But you don't get that vibe from Joel. There's no hungry lust in his eyes, no sleazy charm in his words.

Maybe he's too shy to outrightly proposition you for a quick fuck in his motel room.

You look back at him and study his face. He's handsome, there's no doubt about that. You'd probably fuck him for nothing, if you were in the right mood. He doesn't wait any longer for your answer.

"'M goin' to get a cup of coffee," Joel murmers before spinning around on the heel of his boot and walking toward the convenience store entrance.

He's only gone for a minute but you've found yourself glued to the spot he left you, unable to muster a answer to decline his offer. You would never admit it outloud but you're lonely. You don't want to return to the trailer and it's dingy mess, the dirty crumple of sheets on the couch you sleep on, the stale smell of beer that permeates the whole place. Just thinking about it makes your belly gnaw with a low level anxiety that you refuse to acknowledge.

Joel's hulking figure strides back out of the store with a paper cup of coffee in his hand. He doesn't show any sign of surprise or satisfaction at seeing you waiting for him and he doesn't stop as he approaches you.

"Room 15," Joel reminds you quietly as he passes by. He takes a sip of his coffee and stalks across the road towards the seedy looking motel, not looking back once. It's neon pink sign glows like a beacon in the night.

You watch him, admiring the broadness of his back and his shoulders, the confident masculine way he carries himself. He reaches his room on the bottom story of the motel and disappears inside.

Fuck it.

You scamper after Joel, your heart hammering in your chest.

The room is what you would expect it to look like given the tacky, run-down exterior of the motel. It contains a queen sized bed complete with a faded patterned comforter and matching pillows, a bedside drawer, a small table with a single chair, an ancient looking television, and a cramped ensuite. There are no pictures or paintings adorning the shabby off white walls, only a broken air-conditioner with dust caked on its vents.

A duffel bag sits underneath the only window in the room, the one that looks out onto the road. The bed is made and looks untouched, as if Joel has just checked in.

You are aware that this situation looks sordid - a young woman in a seedy motel room with a man much older than her, both of them strangers to one another. You know of other girls who have been in this exact situation before after being lured with the promise of drugs and alcohol and money. You've heard the rumours of how cruel men can be, how despite the bruises and the blood the police department don't give a shit about girls who are stupid enough to whore themselves out to strangers.

But you have learned to trust your gut instinct over the tumultuous early years of your life, and your intiution is telling you that you aren't in any danger with Joel.

He crouches down to rummage through his bag while you linger awkwardly by the door. He pulls out a phone charger and stands back up, his knees cracking as he straightens. You are suddenly taken aback by how imposing his figure is in such close proximity and in such a confined space.

"Should do," Joel mumbles, holding out the charger for you to take.

When you reach out to take it from his proffered hand, you can't help but stare at how thick his fingers are. They are rough and calloused. He must work with his hands, maybe doing some kind of labour. For a second you wonder what it would be like to have those fingers kneading into your soft flesh, or sinking inside you to stretch you open. A tug of yearning pulls in your belly and snaps you out of your imagination. With flushed cheeks you clear your throat and gingerly pluck the charger from his grasp without meeting his eye.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

"Thanks," you mutter.

"Can use the outlet by the bed, if ya want," Joel gestures to the socket under the bedside drawer.

You sit on the stained carpeted floor and plug the charger into the wall and connect your phone. Joel sits at the table and drinks his coffee. The only sound in the room is the occasional slurp that comes from his lips. You busy yourself with your phone but there are no new texts or calls for you to respond to and you soon get bored. You toss your phone to the side and sigh. When you look up at Joel, he is already watching you, a pensive expression written on his features. His beautiful hooded brown eyes look tired. He is still wearing his boots and his legs are spread wide, his thighs straining against the denim of his jeans.

"Why are you drinking coffee at night?" You ask. "Isn't that more of a morning kinda thing?"

Joel looks down at his coffee. "Didn't feel like drivin' around lookin' for a bar. Felt like a coffee instead."

You tilt your head to the side and study him. "Won't it just keep you up all night?"

Joel scratches the side of his face and sighs a little. "Nah. Don't sleep too good anyway."

"Is that black coffee?" You scrunch your nose. "You don't even take milk?"

Joel rolled his eyes and takes a sip from his cup. "You always ask this many questions?"

"You always invite girls to your motel room?" You bite back without thinking.

Joel freezes mid sip. He frowns and looks at you with a hint of sad reproach in his gaze. "No," he mutters, lowering his cup. "No, I don't. You can go, if you want."

"No," you blurt out, "no, I wanna stay."

Joel just nods curtly. Neither of you know what to say next. You idly scroll through your photos and old text messages in silence. After a minute Joel clears his throat and lightly raps the tabletop with his knuckles.

"So, where do you live?" He asks softly, his head tilted slightly to the side. You glance up at him and stretch your legs out infront of you, sighing.

"About two and a half miles from here, at the Twin Peaks trailer park. It's near the Chalfont diner."

"You live alone?" Joel quirks an eyebrow.

"With my cousin. But she's not around much." You reply quickly, matter of factly. You don't really want to discuss your cousin's drinking habits or just how depressing your living circumstances are to somebody you just met.

Joel hums his understanding and doesn't question any further about your cousin. Silence falls upon the room for another minute or two before he speaks again. "You got a job?"

"Nope," you mutter. "Worked at the supermarket across town for a while, until my boss showed me what a creep he was. Said I had to give him 'special attention' if I wanted to keep my job."

You aren't really sure why you're being so open with him when you're usually reserved with people you don't know. Maybe it's because his questions aren't prying and they lack judgement, but for whatever reason you find the words come tumbling out of your mouth without any thought.

You don't see the way Joel's body tenses at your revelation, how his fist flexes or the annoyed tick of his jaw.

"Sounds like an asshole." He gruffs.

"Mmhm," you nod in agreement. "He was. That was a few months ago, haven't really found another job since. What about you?"

Joel runs a hand through his salt and pepper curls. "I'm a contractor. Build houses and things like that. I live in Fallsview but got a project in the next town over. I'll be stayin' there for a few weeks."

"Cool," is all you can say in reply. You knew his hands weren't those of a man who worked in an office. Your eyes flicker to them now and you notice his ring finger is bare. "Are you married?"

"No," Joel answers with a small shake of his head. "Divorced."

"Oh." You purse your lips and frown a little down at your lap. You are concentrating on trying to construe just what Joel's intentions might be now that you have this tiny morsel of insight into his life. He's not married. He doesn't seem like the churchy self righteous type. And he is staying at this shitty motel alone. Maybe he really is looking for some action from you.

Joel can see you are clearly conflicted by your thoughts. He looks at you expectantly with a raise of his eyebrows.

"What is it?" He asks. "Seem to have somethin' goin' on in your mind over there."

"Dunno if I should ask it," you mumble and chew on the tip of your thumb sheepishly.

Joel makes a 'come on' gesture with his fingers. "Ask what? Let's hear it."

"Uhm," you clear your throat awkwardly, somehow mustering the courage to look at him as you speak. "I just wanna know...did you offer me the charger, like in exchange for something?"

Joel stares at you with an uncomprehending frown that makes you feel even more self conscious.

"You know," you blurt out. "Like maybe you were inviting me here for the charger but also expecting me to give you something in return.....you know, like sex?"

"Hold on a minute," Joel groans, pinching his eyes shut and holding his hand up to signal for you to stop talking. "Please."

You stop speaking. You spy a small tinge of pink on his cheeks and think he must feel as equally embarrassed as you do. But despite his discomfort, Joel's gaze is focused on you, commanding your attention.

"No," Joel answers with conviction. "I don't expect nothin' from you, just offered the charger to help you out, that's all."

"Okay," you reply meekly. "I just didn't know, so..."

Joel shakes his head dismissively. "'S okay. I know it might look that way, but I don't...do those kinda things."

"Okay." You whisper once more.

Joel sighs heavily and scrubs his hand over his face wearily. You are about to say something else, possibly to apologise for your curiousity, but are unable to stifle the yawn that forces its way out of your mouth. You hadn't realised how weary you were, and now it felt like sleepiness was beginning to settle into your bones. You weren't ready to leave Joel's company just yet but the walk home was going to be a struggle. You deicded that you had better leave while you were still awake enough to move your legs.

"Tired?" Joel murmers.

"Mm," you hum. "Guess I better get goin'. Thanks for the charger." You push yourself up from the floor and stretch your arms above your head, yawning once more.

"Where's your car?" Joel asks as he rises from the chair. You hear the joints in his knees cracking.

You chuckle sardonically. "Oh, you didn't see my red Ferrari parked outside the gas station?"

Joel shoots you an unimpressed look in response. "You ain't got a car? How you plan on gettin' home?"

"Same way I get anywhere," you say nonchalantly. "By walking." You unplug your phone from the charger and slip it into your handbag before pulling the strap onto your shoulder.

Joel reaches out to you and lightly touches your arm - it's a respectful gesture to gently command your attention, and it causes a tingle to dance up your spine.

"Let me drive ya home," he implores.

"I walk all the time, it's okay Joel." You assure him. Truthfully you wouldn't mind getting a ride home but he's been generous enough already and you feel uncomfortable at the prospect of receiving any more charity. You are not accustomed to accepting help from anyone; something that has become entrenched in your personality from the myriad of times you were left to fend for yourself, a part of your mentality born from self preservation.

"No ya ain't," Joel states definitively. "Ain't safe. I'll drive ya."

He doesn't wait for your reply, already having swiped the keys off the table striding to the door.

You acquisese with a little shrug. "Okay okay, wait up."

You sit in the front passenger seat of Joel's truck and glance curiously around the interior. The centre console is littered with some gum wrappers and silver coins. Apart from this and the tracks of dirt on the floor of the car, it is relatively clean. The faint smell of pine, leather and mint is pleasant as it wafts into your nostrils. You hear the rattle of a tool box somewhere in the back seat.

You tug the sleeve cuffs of your sweater over your hands and snuggle back into the car seat. It seems to cushion you in a way that makes you feel small and childlike; your mind conjures a nostaglic memory of you as a young child laying in your father's car at night, the enveloping blackness of the sky and the vibrations of the vehicle lulling you to sleep.

How you are able to curl into the seat is a stark contrast to the way Joel occupies the drivers side. His body fills his seat completely, thick thighs spread and knees touching the steering wheel. The width of his shoulders leave little room for his arm to rest without encroaching on your space, and the sleeve of his flannel is close to brushing against your arm. His hand practically engulfs the gear stick when he clutches it.

The radio plays some old fashioned country tune, low and crackling. You and Joel are silent during the ride and the only time you speak is to give him directions to the trailer park. There is some kind of tension in the air between you that you can't quite distinguish, and you wonder if Joel feels it the way you do. He seems a little unsettled - you notice his large mitt flex on the gear stick every so often and how his thumb taps almost nervously against the steering wheel as he grips it.

You brave a few glances in his direction out the corner of your eye. He stares ahead at the road and you are able to admire the attractive shape of his profile and his facial features. The fluffy salt and pepper crown of curls that sit atop his head, his aquiline nose, the plushness of his bottom lip below his moustache, the smattering of hair along his distinct jawline.

He's so handsome, you think. Especially for an older guy. How old is he, anyway? You hadn't asked him how old he was, but he hadn't asked for your age, either. It seemed a little awkward to ask now.

Joel clears his throat suddenly, startling you. You hurriedly tear your eyes off of him and stare at the road, hoping he hasn't noticed you watching him.

Joel drives past the Chalfont Diner and you turn your head to gaze at its broken neon sign flickering in the parking lot. The familiar sight signifies that you are almost home, and you feel a strange pang of disappointment in your stomach.

The entrance of the trailer park comes into view after another minute. Joel turns off the main road and drives down the dirt road that leads to the park. When he enters into the lot he slows right down, letting the truck roll as unobtrusively as possible as you direct him to your cousin's trailer.

Immediately you can see that there are no lights on inside the trailer and that your cousin's car is gone. You aren't sure where she is or when she will be home again.

Joel stops outside your home and parks the truck, but doesn't turn off the engine.

"This it?" He asks, peering through the front windshield to look at where you live. Although he makes no comments, you can't help but feel a little embarrassed that Joel is seeing where you live. What does he think of the peeling paint on the exterior of the place, the wire door hanging off its hinge, the milk crate of empty beer bottles haphazardly discarded on the partially dead lawn out the front?

He probably thinks I'm trash.

"Yep," you say unenthusiastically as you unbuckle your seat belt. "Thanks for the ride, Joel."

You aren't sure why you want to linger in his truck, why you feel a pull to stay with him just a bit longer. Are you really that lonely? You do your best to suppress the confusion inside your head and grab the handle to open the door of the truck. You give Joel a nod before getting out.

"Welcome," Joel nods back. "G'night."

You don't turn back to look at him as you trudge over to the trailer and up the couple of steps to the door. You don't turn back after opening the door and going inside, either, but you sense that Joel is waiting for you to safely enter before driving off.

The next few weeks pass by uneventfully. You and two of your friends hunt for different ways to earn some money - the three of you make a little cash by hand washing cars for a couple days, then the next week you peddle cartons of bootlegged cigarettes for your friend's uncle.

One of the girls, Lacey, tells you that the strip club where your cousin works is looking for waitresses. She suggests you both apply for a job there but you aren't sure you want to. Your other friend, Tiana, wants to be a hairdresser and has tried finding a job in town at the salons but has had no luck.

Life seems hopeless in this dead end piece of shit town. Your plan is to get work and save up as much money as you can and then leave and never come back. But judging by the way things are going that dream looks like it'll never come true.

When you aren't hanging out with your friends you sit on the steps of the trailer and write in your journal. It's a binded hardcovered notebook covered in a pattern of pretty galactic swirls of purple and silver. You have spent hours filling it with your innermost thoughts, your hopes and aspirations, aswell as poems and sketches you consider amateurish and at times silly. It's a piece of your heart on pages of paper, something precious and personal; journaling has been the only dependable companion you've ever had in your life.

Your cousin comes and goes, sometimes with a man you deduce is her new boyfriend. His name is Trent and he always wears a cap and a white wifebeater underneath a flannel shirt. He works at the steel mill just outside town. Whenever Trent is over he eyes you with smug lechery that makes you want to gag.

They are usually high or drunk when they return to the trailer and don't bother to restrain the sounds they make when they fuck. Now whenever you hear his truck rumble noisily outside you snatch up your handbag and escape to the streets in town.

Tonight is one of those nights. You scurry out the door and down the steps to escape before they even open their car doors. They don't seem to care though.

You leisurely walk along the back dirt roads into the cenrre of town, listening to music through a pair of old earphones that still manage to work. The twilight sky twinkles above you while you walk, and your path is beautifully illuminated by the round pale moon and the nearby streetlights. A slight breeze cools the bare skin of your legs. It is tranquil, soothing. You consider what you will do for the night. Maybe some of your friends will be out and about too and a group of you can get high under the bridge like you sometimes do together.

A sudden growling in your stomach makes you wince. You haven't eaten all day - you know if you get high when you're hungry you'll feel nauseous and want to vomit. Shit. Maybe you will try sell the last pack of bootleg smokes you have left so you can skim a bit of funds from the total and then treat yourself to something cheap from the gas station.

You head to the Bullhorn Bar where you know you'll have a good chance of finding a buyer to sell to. Unlike an establishment like the Gin Lounge, which mostly caters to business people and more self important members of society, the people at the Bullhorn Bar would be more inclined to purchase something off the street. The usual patrons are steel mill workers, rednecks and the occasional biker gang, and while the bar has a rough reputation you know it'll be easier to hawk something there than anywhere else in town.

You don't go inside but stay outside instead, casually leaning against the wall of the building by an adjacent alleyway. The muffled thump of the country music inside the bar reverberates through the brick wall behind you. It must be busy tonight, you muse.

You take out one of your own rollies from the pocket of your jacket and light it up. You smoke as you watch the occasional customer walk by to enter through the saloon style doors of the place. You wait a while before initiating conversation with anyone, patiently fishing for the right buyer.

Soon enough a man comes ambling along the sidewalk in a crumpled grey suit, his tie loose around his neck and his face flushed. He already looks half drunk. This should be easy.

"Hey," you greet him smoothly.

The man stops and looks at you blankly, his eyes bloodshot. "Evening."

"You smoke?" You smile a little, holding up your cigarette.

"Uh, sometimes," the man mumbles non-committally, unsure what you're getting at. "Why?"

"Well, I gotta brand new pack of smokes right here," you reach into your bag and pull out the box. "I don't need 'em. Wanna buy?"

The man shakes his head rapidly, making his jowls quiver. "Oh no, no, no thank you, young lady," he mutters, "none of that for me tonight."

"Come on, man," you soothe cunningly, "I gaurantee you haven't tried these before. They are smoother than those bullshit Malboros you probably smoke, and they are half the price. You can't say no to this deal."

The red faced man just continues shaking his head and raises his hands up in refusal, then quickly walks away from you towards the saloon doors.

"Oh, for fucks sake," you groan with annoyance. Oh well, that was only the first try. Plenty more to go. You pop your rollie back into your mouth and deposit the cigarette packet back in you bag.

"Those'll kill ya, you know." A deep voice speaks suddenly behind you.

You squeak, startled, and fling around. The voice belongs to Joel, ofcourse. He is standing tall infront of you with his arms crossed. He is so close that you can smell his scent from where you stand - a mixture of pine, mint and coffee. His hair is slicked back and he wears a green flannel shirt with a black t shirt underwear. You notice how his biceps strain the fabric covering them.

Joel looks down at you with the slightest hint of amusement in his eyes, and you notice how the tanned skin around them crinkles. "Forcin' strangers to buy some smokes?"

You shake your head a bit and snicker. "No," you say, "I'm just trying to make an honest living, thank you."

The corner of Joel's lips quirk into a tiny smile. "Sellin' bootleg cigarettes 's what you call an honest livin', huh?"

You grin sheepishly and give a shrug. "I'm working with what I got, man." You tap the ash at the end of your cigarette onto the sidewalk and take another puff. "What're you doing back here?"

Joel looks down at his boots and kicks at a pebble on the ground. "Finished work for the week and got some time to kill. Thought I'd drive through, see what's goin' on."

"In this town?" You scoff teasingly. "Not much to do here, Joel." You drop your rollie and crush the ember with the toe of your shoe.

Joel lifts his head and looks at you, the light from the streetlight overhead creating the illusion that his dark brown eyes are sparkling.

"You remembered my name?" He asks softly, sounding like he's both surprised and pleased at the fact you hadn't forgotten him.

You tilt your head and raise your eyebrows inquisitively. Ofcourse I remembered, you want to say. "Yeah," you reply simply instead. "Did you remember mine?"

Joel stares at you intently and nods, his jaw ticking once. He speaks your name then to prove himself, the rich timbre of his Southern accent sounding smooth and honeyed to your ears. You feel your cheeks blushing in response and you have to internally scold yourself for being so ridiculous.

"Yep, that's me," you murmur shyly, looking down at your shoes and fidgeting with your hands, unsure of what else to say.

After a few moments you hear Joel clear his throat and then you feel the heat of his large hand as he gently cups your elbow in his palm. "You wanna go get somethin' to eat? I'm starvin' and got no idea where to get a good steak around here."

You peer up and smile at him,  "Uh, sure," you whisper. "That would be nice."