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delilahsturniolo · 16 days ago

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hard to sleep — c.s ⋅˚₊‧ 𝜗𝜚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

in which . . . you and chris can’t seem to fall asleep after you both argue.

warnings . . . resolved angst, arguing, yelling, crying.

written by @delilahsturniolo. do not copy, steal, or modify any of my works. do not take inspiration without permission or credits. happy reading! :)

tonight had been a total mess, there was no doubt about it. you and chris never argued, but when you did it usually was dumb and small, you’d usually laugh it off with him and apologize. however, this time was different. it was more…intense. you hadn’t meant to get into a screaming match with your boyfriend, it just happened.

chris had never yelled at you before, it was an odd situation for you to be in. all of this was happening out of anger, and stress from the day. deep down, you knew he didn’t mean anything he was saying, but it still hurt like a knife twisting cruelly in your heart, slowly ripping all the life and emotion away from you as you stood there.

“I can’t believe you!” chris scoffed, running his hand through his hair in frustration as you leaned against the kitchen counter.

“what can’t you believe, chris? you barely even spend time with me anymore!” you matched his frustrated tone, your voice rising.

your comment seemed to hit him harder than you thought it would. “is that what this is about? you think i don’t care about you? you’re fuckin’ wrong, you need to grow up and realize i have a job that requires me to be away!” chris spoke in anger, his fists clenched by his sides.

“you aren’t listening to me! i wake up and you’re gone, i go to sleep without you next to me because you’re always working! and when you’re home you don’t fucking acknowledge me!” you yelled.

chris quickly lost his patience with you. “stop it, just stop it. while you’re over here actin’ like a spoiled brat, i’m working my ass off and trying to make you happy! you sit around this house all day and complain!” you bit your lip, your heart sinking at his words. nothing felt real, absolutely nothing.

the corner’s of your eyes were quick to fill with tears, chris’s gaze softened as he looked into your hurt eyes. you sniffled, wiping your tears with your sleeve in aggression.

“fine then! i’ll get out of your way.” you replied in frustration, walking away before chris could even stop you. you were done, you just wanted to end the day, you wanted all of this to just be over.

chris sighed softly, his breaths coming out shaky as he watched you run upstairs before you could break down in front of him. he felt horrible, especially because he was seeing the woman he loved most cry. but he couldn’t talk to you right now, he had to let his anger boil over.

about an hour had passed since you and chris argued. you were laying in bed, the lamp on your side table casting a warm and dim light into the room. the house was silent, you weren’t sure what chris was doing at the moment. you laid on your side, your head buried into your tear soaked blanket as your soft sniffles were muffled.

the silence after an argument was always the worst, considering the fact that you had fought with the man you loved most. you let out a soft sob into your pillow, your thoughts racing through your mind rapidly.

suddenly, the door to the room opened. chris walked in, not even batting you an eye. you watched as he stumbled over to his closet in exhaustion, changing into a plain white shirt and blue plaid pajama pants.

chris shut off the lamp on the side table, climbing in bed next to you while still creating a small gap of distance between the both of you, as he was still slightly frustrated, but not as much as before. you could feel the tension between the two of you in the atmosphere of the room, it took everything in you not to break the silence.

chris laid with his back facing you, his breaths were heavy as his body was completely still. you stared up at the ceiling, tossing and turning with restlessness. you couldn’t sleep at all, especially knowing that chris was angry with you.

chris laid awake, although he refused to face you. he listened to your restless tossing and turning on the bed, and your frustrated grunts. he was in the same boat, he couldn’t shut his eyes and rest without thinking of the overwhelming amount of guilt he felt from earlier. he knew you both couldn’t go to bed angry with each other, it wasn’t right.

chris sighed softly, turning over on the bed to look at you through the dark room. “baby?” he called out for you, his voice as gentle as ever, contrast to his anger earlier. you tensed up as you could feel his eyes on you as he waited for an answer.

“y-yeah?” you answered, your voice barely above a whisper. chris gently touched your arm, slowly beginning to turn you over so he could get a proper look at you.

the both of you locked eyes, chris felt his heart sink by just looking at the guilt and regret in your eyes, the same eyes that had such a bright and contagious spark inside of them, were now dull and sad.

“you okay?” he asked, his hand coming up to your face, brushing a strand of hair out of your eyes. you nodded, leaning into his touch, you felt a sense of comfort knowing that he still loved and cared about you despite everything.

“i’m sorry sweetheart, i’m so sorry. i shouldn’t have yelled at you. i shouldn’t have said all those mean things, you didn’t deserve that.” chris apologized, your heart felt warm as you listened to what he had to say.

“i’m sorry too, chris. i know you care about me, and i appreciate you for that, i’m sorry for doubting you and raising my voice at you.” you spoke, chris gently wiped your stray tears, leaning into you and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“it’s okay, love. i just want you to talk to me about these things instead of keeping it to yourself, okay? i’m here for you, i want to know how you’re feeling. i can’t help you if i don’t know what’s going on.” chris explained to you.

“i promise, i’ll try to communicate with you more.” you agreed, a smile formed on chris’s face as you guys were now on the same page.

“and i promise i’ll try to make more time for you, and listen to you.” chris added on, you nodded. chris gently wrapped his arms around you securely, you buried your head into his chest, holding onto him tightly, as if he’d disappear if you let go. chris looked down at you as you began to slowly drift off in his arms. he whispered a small “i love you” before covering the both of you with the blanket and falling asleep himself, feeling reassured that you were safe in his arms.

it wasn’t so hard to sleep when you were in his arms.

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shinyshade8026 · 3 months ago

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Buzzes and Biscuits

Requested by: @skull-pup

S comes home from an exhausting day of work and wants to relax. They find V wanting to do the same.

Word count: 1900

It was just a day like any other for the disassembler. Tireless work for hours into the night left S trudging up the stairs with a tired expression set on their visor. There was a downside when it came to helping the workers rebuild the city and get things running. They weren’t the only disassembly drone working on this, of course, the others would help as well, and even a few strangers. The process was slow, but Copper-9, or at least the city around Outpost-3, was starting to look livable again, but it was taking up a lot of time and energy. It felt tense and sluggish when it got home, but they felt a bit more awake upon seeing their housemates and family.

As S slowly made its way up the carpeted steps, it used its delicate sensors to pick up the sounds of the others in the house. Asmi and Cosmo were playing a game in the living room, while E and J were pressed together on one side of the couch, watching the young drones while having quiet conversations. S couldn't find the sound of one drone in particular, making their chassis prick uneasily. Where was V?

S finally made it up the flight of stairs and ended up on the second floor, casting a lazy glance down the hall. The faintest rattle of chains gave away the sound of L remaining where she was, making a devilish grin part the blonde drone’s lips. It turned its attention to its bedroom, already itching to lay in bed and just relax. Their clawed hand found the doorknob, their other rubbing their optics. They quietly turned the knob, thinking gleefully at the fact they didn’t have to go help with the city the next night.

As it twisted the knob and pushed open the door, S largely expected to see nothing but a dark room and their neatly made bed. Instead, they saw a familiar jacket and scarf plopped on the bed, and a certain silver-haired drone creating a lump in the bed as she buried her face into the pillows. It smiled softly, seeing V turn her head just enough so it could see one of her half-open optics staring into their mismatched ones.

The shorter drone made a sleepy noise, which S assumed to be a greeting, and their partner returned her greeting with a small wave. They quietly walked to the bed, rubbing their eyes while V sat up, her silver hair in a slightly tangled mess. The blanket fell from its point on her back as she waved them towards her with a slowed motion. It chuckled, thinking her sleepiness was cute. V noted their chuckle, which made her huff and puff her cheeks in a fake pout, causing S to giggle more. They loved it when she was herself. Not the psychopathic or strong mask she put up. Herself. The sweeter, softer, and sometimes playful, worker drone from when they were younger.

They knew she was only this way around them. It somehow made them feel… special...

It crawled onto the bed, taking off its jacket and tossing it to sit by V’s. Once they had settled in a sitting position, V draped herself over their lap, stretching out like a big cat and giving them a sleepy smile. The modified drone felt their core flare up and their tail rattled happily while they lovingly ran a hand through her hair, eliciting a quiet purr from her.

They kept running their hand through her hair, gently shifting apart the small tangles until they could freely run their hand through her hair with no issues. While they did this, V’s purrs increased, her tail slowly swaying with pure contentment. S tilted their head to the side as they continued what they were doing, noticing how her tail went and coiled around its leg as she stretched even more.

“You’re sleepy,” it noted without much thought, gently smiling. The disassembly drone’s only response at first was a half nod followed by a yawn.

Once her yawn finished, V spoke, “Mph… very sleepy, but I need to do something before I sleep or else I’ll forget to do it by the time I have to leave tomorrow,”

S twirled a strand of her hair in their fingers, their tail nudging hers to try and get it to move from their leg to their tail, “You think I’d be able to help, Vivi?”

The sprawled-out drone lightly batted away S’s hand and deployed one of her wings, the one furthest from S. They flexed their wing before glancing at their partner. “I need to sharpen the blades of my wings, I keep forgetting to do it while I have the time, so they’ve ended up getting a bit duller than I’d like,”

It nodded, reaching for the bedside table drawer to grab the whetstone they shared for their wings. V stretched out more, flexing her wing before pulling it in so S could start. Her eyes closed while her arms crossed under her head to make her comfortable. Before starting, S ran their hand through her hair again and leaned to place a kiss on the arm of her wing. The gesture made her jolt slightly and she whirled her head to them, the expression she was met with was a gentle and sweet smile, making her core burn and flutter. How in the hell did she get so lucky?

She settled back into her previous position as S gently ran the whetstone along the edge of her longest feather blade. The sound was quiet and constant, letting both drones tune it out and focus on the other sounds.

Like V’s very noticeable purring as she tried not to fall into the comfortable haze of sleep.

S chuckled, the buzzy sound feeling like music to their ears. Once they had finished that blade, it moved to the next, slowly sharpening the shiny, slightly scratched, metal blades. During the process, the canister end of V’s tail started to sway in a slow wagging motion as her entire body relaxed, making S smile even more as their tail began to do the same, with an added quiet buzzing noise.

The blonde drone worked efficiently, sharpening her wings thoroughly while moving quickly so the two could rest sooner, but not fast enough to make things uncomfortable for V.

Within a short while, S had finished V’s left wing and was nudging her to turn so they could sharpen the other one. She obliged, of course, sitting up on their lap to turn and lay the other way, but not before kissing them for a moment. The sudden action made the taller drone blush profusely, making the yellow-eyed one snicker before laying down again and deploying her other wing.

S blinked a few times to snap back into reality while their blush settled to a few ticks on their cheeks. It started applying the whetstone to V’s other wing blades, humming a song quietly while it worked on them.

They delicately traced one of their claws over some of the deeper scratches in her wings, a thin frown settling on their lips. They knew it was just from normal usage, but seeing V hurt in any way made its core ping with sadness.

The sprawled-out drone notices its pause in working, tilting their head to see its face before gently taking its hand into theirs and kissing the softly glowing triangle on the back. S jolted from the action, the sweet touch bringing them out of their sad stupor. No words were shared between them, only a loving stare before S smiled and rubbed the side of her hand with their thumb, returning to running the whetstone along the edges of V’s wings to continue the sharpening process.

It went a bit slower for this wing, the blades dulled from usage on her dominant side. At this point, it seemed like the smaller of the two was asleep by now, but the readjustments and shifts every few minutes told S that she was still awake. By the time S had finished both of her wings, they wanted to fall backward and rest. To which they obliged.

V made a chirping noise as they did so, sitting up to give them a blank look before taking the whetstone from their hands, placing it onto the bedside table, and draping herself over their front. She momentarily snuggled her face into their neck, hearing their purring begin again from her affection. When she sat up again, she heard a small grumbled sound from them, which she rolled her eyes at with a smile while grabbing their brush.

S watched as V lay down, holding the blanket to the side so they could come and snuggle her, an offer they quickly gave in to. The taller drone lays on top of her, their head near her core and their body coming up from between her legs. Once they had settled down, V tugged off their beanie to get at their hair, chewing on her lip from the tangles she knew her hand couldn’t work through. Well, that was why she grabbed the brush.

She started to run the brush through their pale blonde hair, careful not to hurt them as she brushed it out. They soon were reduced to a purring mess, their tail wagging underneath the covers. V held the side of its face in her palm, her thumb rubbing its cheek while she brushed out the tangles. She kept this up, getting every inch of their fluffy hair while reassuring the blue sections stayed together.

Drones, workers specifically, often commented that the disassembly drones behaved like cats, which V couldn’t exactly disagree, not when she acted cat-like during moments. Especially around S. Speaking of the drone, their optics had closed a couple of minutes into the brushing, and their hands had settled into a spot on her chest, fingers curled slightly toward their palms.

V focused on their hair, keeping it fluffy and soft as she went through it. She assumed that S would fall asleep while she did this, so she locked in on her task, her own optics drooping as her sleepiness began to get at her due to being surrounded by comfort. S was strangely a good weighted blanket.

However, something snapped her out of focus, making her blink a few times in surprise and look down. What she saw provided a smile to her, and even a small chuckle.

S was half awake, gently kneading ‘biscuits’ on her tank top. She could feel their clawed fingertips slightly graze her metal as they moved, but it didn’t bother her. She could hear its purring increase as they did this, encouraging V to continue purring as well, filling the space of their bed with the sound of buzzy purrs, a sweet sound to both of their audinals.

V finished brushing their hair, half haphazardly tossing the brush somewhere else onto the bed before locking her fingers together on S’s back, holding them close as she fell into a sleep-induced state, S inching themself up her chest to get closer to her face. Their kneading slowed, and eventually stopped, as they soon fell asleep alongside her, a sleepy smile etched onto their face.

#shinyshade's nonsense #shinyshade does writing stuff #bombberry au #murder drones #bombberry #serial designation s #serial designation v #s x v #v x s #s murder drones #murder drones s #v murder drones #murder drones v #v md #md v #s md #md s #fucking QUEERS

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kaiser1ns · 3 months ago

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#. THE RAIN THAT I WISHED UPON

featuring 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗶𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗸𝗮 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘅 𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗼 𝘆𝗮𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗼

fluff. sometimes when you want to surprise someone, they can surprise you instead.

SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 158 !

No call, no message, no warning. You hated waiting, especially when it rained and you would get all wet... Just perfect. Those two hadn't told you anything, at least you expected Endo to tell you if something came up. Instead, you found out at the last minute that everyone from Noroshi will face Bofurin and guess who is responsible for everything.

"Stupid Endo ... Ruining my plans to surprise Takiishi." sitting under a parking lot canopy in the middle of the night alone, a large gift bag that was luckily untouched by the drops in one hand, while you kept texting and calling the tattooed idiot with the other, but he didn't answer. You will kill him. Maybe Takiishi too for doing this to you. Outfit and make-up were ruined, the night too and you decided to go somewhere else, there was no point sitting in the cold any longer.

Putting the phone in your bag, you had planned everything perfectly for Takiishi's birthday—cake, gifts, a small celebration—yet here you were, soaked to the bone, no Endo, no Takiishi, and no explanation. How could they leave you in the dark like this?

Standing outside Endo’s apartment, you heard footsteps approaching. Turning, you saw Endo carrying Takiishi on his back, both covered in blood. Your anger disappeared as you ran toward them, dropping the gift bag because now you were worried about them. "Endo, what happened? Takiishi, are you—" He interrupted with a soft chuckle, despite the blood on his body and face. “Nothing, you are just cute,” he said. “We’ll explain inside.”

Once inside, you exploded. “YOU WHAT? Seriously, was this even necessary?” Takiishi hadn’t moved since being laid on the couch. “Necessary? Maybe not. But worth it? Absolutely,” Endo replied with a smirk. You grabbed first aid supplies and began cleaning Takiishi’s wounds. He hissed but let you work, too tired to resist. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why keep me out of this?”

The tattooed boy sighed. “Takiishi wanted to handle it alone. His fight with Umemiya wasn’t just about us. It was personal.” He sighed, leaning back against the couch and staring up at the ceiling. "Because this is something he wanted to handle on his own. I didn’t want you involved. He didn’t want you to see this side of things, especially not tonight."

He said everything you wanted and needed to know, but that's who they were, and even though they made you angry most of the time, you'd always be there for them. So when you handed him the gift bag, of course you had to say “Happy Birthday, Takiishi!” expecting him not to respond, after all, he was tired and would take whatever you gave him, as usual, he would pay you no mind.

“L/N Y/N… thank you,”

“D-did he–?” you turned to Endo, who nodded, giving you a soft smile, still sitting on the floor. “Yeah, he did,” he said, clearly finding your reaction adorable while Takiishi, still exhausted, gave a small, tired smile.

You froze. The words hit you harder than anything else that night. Takiishi never called you by your name. Are you dreaming? Never in a million years would you have expected it, especially not now. Tears welled up in your eyes, unbidden, and you blinked rapidly, trying to keep them from falling.

Happy birthday to me, huh?

taglist :: @kiurona @nyxypoo @stunies @ryescapades

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anaargent · 4 months ago

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You know season 4 yeah it was bad, and it made me so angry😭😭 and I want revenge, (delulul) so can you right something where reader finds out of five cheating on her, and her getting her little revenge, thank you (≧▽≦) (sorry if my grammar sucks)

Girl I totally loved this, hope you like it. contains slight suggestion of Diego x reader

MARRY MY HUSBAND

You sigh as you take another sip of the whiskey that Five had methodically stocked in your shared apartment. The thought makes you sick, your Five... or it was before his silent betrayal. You were fine, happy and unaware of the passionate acts of Five, your work and life partner, with none other than Lila, your sister-in-law, and a friend you held dear.

Oblivious to all of this until a few weeks ago, when you noticed that Five and Lila's days off had been modified, while you thought he was in some long-term affair, you did the obvious, investigated. But nothing prepared you for the scene you witnessed, a Five affectionately holding his sister-in-law in his arms, a sweet smile on his face as he gently rocked her in a restaurant, YOUR favorite restaurant, in the neighboring city. It was adorable, such a beautiful scene of two lovebirds in love.

You came up with crazy ideas to get revenge on the jerk, including throwing Five's body into the Seine River, to a simpler one like kicking his ass.

...

And here you were, at Diego's door, ready to use him as a pawn to knock Five off his damn pedestal "Holla, y/n! Where's Five?" Diego opens the door and smiles warmly. You were ready to manipulate your brother-in-law, but he was in front of you, pathetic as he wore a jellybean necklace, his hair was parted in two messy pigtails and his black outfit was covered in purple glitter "come in, come in, we were in the middle of an afternoon tea, you'll love it" he pulls you inside while three agitated children corner you with cute little eyes.

Five liked you for being calculating, rational and other adjectives that he saw as ideal in a partner, you considered yourself an equal. You bet he would take back his compliments when he saw you bent over in a small chair with an imaginary cup of tea.

After an endless afternoon, the little angels fell asleep from exhaustion "Thanks for helping with the mess, and sorry for dragging you into this" Diego says as he finishes cleaning up the mess in the living room "I wouldn't have the energy for the three of them alone"

"Don't thank me, they're so cute"you smile melancholy as you see the three children piled up, Gracie holding the twins protectively "Five and Lila are having an affair" you blurt out before you can explode with guilt.

You stare at Diego, the air tense as you watch the man's grateful species turn from confused to disbelieving "what?" he laughs incredulously.

" They...they're together"you look away from Diego, unable to maintain a rational facade as you watch Diego process everything. A pang of guilt hits you "I needed to tell you, I want to end that bastard...but I need you to agree, you have more to lose than I do"you say and see Diego look at his children, his lips in a thin line.

" Please go home y/n, it's already late" Diego sounds as polite as possible.

" I'll go... think about it" you say before leaving silently.

...

That was a few weeks ago, no sign of Diego. Five would come and spend a few days, always formal and distant as he talked about the cases he was working on, nonsense and more lies.

Then Diego was at your door, in the middle of the night, panting as if he had run a marathon, soaked from the torrential rain that was falling outside "Holla y/n" he tries to smile as you pull him inside.

"Are you crazy? You're going to catch a cold, come in, come in" you guide him to the living room and get a towel, quickly wrapping it around him.

" It was my fault, s/n" he says, trembling, you look at him, lost "Lila and Five... I... Lila wasn't happy, it was too much... the kids... work... the routine, she told me she was tired, I didn't hear her, I was only thinking about myself and the kids, I should have paid attention to her " he says everything at once, his shoulders still shaking from the cold, his voice weak, you didn't know if it was from the rain or emotional.

"Hey, hey" you try to sound affectionate, having no experience in supporting anyone, you sounded kind of robotic -but you tried, that's what counts, right? - "Come here" you pull him into a hug, it was clumsy and kind of strange, you didn't make physical contact with people, but Diego didn't seem to mind as he held you closer and sniffed softly " They betrayed us, Diego, you're a wonderful father. Routine hits everyone, but it's no excuse to stab anyone in the back" you patted his back.

" about your plan.."Diego steps away and looks at you, looking more composed, although his eyes were red "I'm in, what do I do?"

You try to contain the devilish smile that forms on your lips " All your little brother loves most is power.. I think he loves it more than his own family, we're going to take away his position at the FBI.

"But how are you going to do that? He's not like a Shellock from there?"

"he's...distracted" you try not to sound too suggestive of the fact that your boyfriend and his wife were, maybe at that exact moment, fucking each other " it means that his cases are open, he has a case, a big and old one, nobody solved it, I helped him with some clues. If someone solves the case, he loses the position he wanted" you smile and settle into the couch.

"okay... but who's going to solve it?" Diego asks, after a moment of silence he laughs, the first one you've seen in so many days, you missed that smile.

" You always wanted to go in there, Five never sent the letters Diego.."- Maybe it was a low blow, but you needed Diego by your side -

" what?" he asks looking disappointed, then gives a bitter laugh " I don't know why I still waited for him to really believe that I could get into the FBI"

"you have potential Diego" you pat his shoulder -were your comforting techniques better? " and you're going to walk into that damn office with a solved case"

You shake hands, smile and nod, sealing the little deal between you.

...

"What's going on here?"Five opens the doors aggressively, his irritated expression causing you immense pleasure even more when you notice Lila towing beside him.

You smile sweetly at your partner and your friend, walking towards then with your hands behind your back - someone solved the Alien case, everyone is impressed. Did you guys meet at the entrance? How great that we are all together"

"What? How? Who? - He cut the subject and looks around, examining the people, then looks at you again, suspicion filling his eyes " What did you do, s/n?" He approaches like an animal ready to tear its prey apart.

" Me? Nothing my dear, I would never do anything... behind your back, we're partners, right? No lies like you always tell me" you smile, seeing him narrow his eyes. It was worth every hour spent with Diego to solve that damn case, nothing would take away from you the sweet taste of seeing Five Hargreeves fall from the highest pedestal he placed himself on.

A part of you was still hurt, it was years of partnership, were you just a pastime for him? Didn't it mean anything? Before you could sink into the spiral of self-humiliation, Diego appeared with a huge smile

"oh Little brother, my dear wife, you didn't tell me you were in the secret service too, what an incredible knowledge. it's good to have all you here, it seems that we are now coworkers. I know we will get along well, don't pressure me too much, I'm new to this whole chief detective thing, but y/n was very kind and will accompany me until I adjust to the position - he puts an arm around your shoulders, the two of you watch with delight as Five and Lila finally realizes what was happening

Pt2:

https://www.tumblr.com/anaargent/763005744864985088/can-we-get-a-pt2-for-marry-my-husband-where-diego?source=share

#five hargreaves x reader #five hargreeves #the umbrella academy #x reader #five hargreaves x you #tua season 4 #tua five #fanfic #diego hargreeves #Reader x diego hargreeves #lila and five #Lila X Diego #headcanon #request #diego hargreaves x reader #diego hargreeves x you

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mim16s · 3 days ago

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Survival in Game

Cho Hyun-ju x Autistic!Fem!Reader

•I'm not autistic, but I have a brother and a cousin who are, so I used my experience living with them to write this character. English is not my first language, but I tried my best to write this without spelling errors. This is my first story on this app, so I hope it is good.

This wasn’t what you wanted for your life. Honestly, you didn’t even understand how you had gotten to this point. All you wanted was to take care of your mother, to repay all the effort she had put into you. And you knew how hard it had been for her.

She got pregnant young and raised you on her own, with no support system. Your father? Well, you never knew him. He disappeared as soon as he found out about the pregnancy. Your grandparents, embarrassed that she had gotten pregnant so young and without even getting married, abandoned her too. That’s how your mother faced the world alone, with you in her arms.

And things got even harder. You knew that being autistic made everything more challenging for her. As a child, you didn’t speak, and your first words came only after many therapy sessions, which were expensive. But she never gave up. You remembered seeing her come home, exhausted after a long day of work, but always with a smile.

— Mom is fine. You’re everything I need to have strength, — she would say, trying to hide her exhaustion.

But you knew the truth. You knew how much she fought, how she struggled to meet all your needs, to make sure you never lacked anything. Everything fell apart when she got sick. You were 19. The illness took all her strength, and she could no longer work. That’s when the weight of the world fell on you. You had to find a job, but no matter how hard you tried, no one wanted to give you a chance. When they saw you weren’t neurotypical, they wouldn’t give you a chance.

Life became a daily struggle. You survived doing small jobs here and there, while some kind neighbors helped with food baskets. But the money was never enough, and the debts started piling up. Your mother’s treatments were expensive, and with each unpaid bill, the despair grew.Then he appeared. The man in the suit.He appeared out of nowhere, as if fate had sent him. With a piercing look, holding a briefcase in his hand. He stopped in front of you while you were resting in one of the subway chairs, with a smile that made you just as uncomfortable as it did curious.

— Looks like you need an opportunity, don’t you?—You hesitated, unsure of what to respond. He seemed to know exactly who you were and what you were going through.

— I want to propose something to you.

And that’s when you got a card with geometric symbols and a phone number. You stared at it, your heart racing without fully understanding it.

---

And now, here you were: in a strange hall, surrounded by people you didn’t know, in a place you had never seen before, wearing clothes you didn’t even remember putting on, and the fabric itched. You weren’t the only one confused. Perplexed looks crossed the room, and nervous whispers filled the air.

Then they appeared: masked soldiers, wearing uniforms that seemed more threatening than functional. You couldn’t help but shrink back, a heavy feeling that something was terribly wrong.They began to speak, explaining what was happening.

— Excuse me! — A voice echoed. Your eyes followed the sound until they landed on a beautiful woman, who seemed just as indignant as she was confident. — They said it would just be some games, but you kidnapped us. And you still want me to believe this?

— We apologize, — one of the masked soldiers replied, the voice distorted by some sort of modifier. — It was a necessary measure to ensure the confidentiality of the games we are organizing.

Questions started popping up from all sides, but the answers provided no comfort, only more tension. You wanted to understand better, but it was hard to follow. The questions, the sounds around you, the smell of sweat and fear in the hall, everything was pulling you in different directions. You began to rock back and forth slightly, trying to focus. It was something that always helped. But the discomfort persisted.

---

You were led to a large open field, surrounded by high fences and cameras that seemed to record every movement. It was announced that the first game would begin soon. When a desperate man screamed that, if anyone was eliminated, they would die, a chill ran down your spine. It couldn’t be true... right? But when the game began, the illusion of safety shattered. The sharp sound of a gunshot cut through the air. Your eyes widened, shock paralyzing you. That sound — loud, deafening to your sensitive hearing — seemed to hammer in your head. You instinctively wanted to cover your ears to block out that deafening noise, but you felt someone hold your hands firmly, preventing any sudden movements.

— Don’t move, it’s dangerous. — The voice came from behind. It was the beautiful woman from before. There was something in the firmness of her tone that managed to cut through your panic, bringing some calm.

— My ears hurt, — you murmured, your voice trembling.

— I know. But you have to hold on. Just a little longer.

Chaos spread around you. People were screaming, some running in desperation, while others were falling to the sound of new gunshots. You felt terror take hold, a heavy knot in your throat. Your legs felt like stone.

— If you don't cross the line in time, they'll still kill you! Look at the doll's eyes! They're cameras that scan for motion! But it's not able to detect you if you're behind something! — screamed one of the players, his voice desperate. — So if you short, line up behind someone who's taller than you!

Your body wouldn’t respond. You were frozen, the noise and the fear trapping you in place.The beautiful woman stopped in front of you, blocking your view of the rest of the field.

— Keep going. — Her voice was urgent, yet gentle. — You need to keep going. Don’t worry, I’ll stay in front of you. Just follow me, okay?

You couldn’t verbalize, but when the music started again, you followed her. Each step behind her felt like an eternity, but she kept her promise, protecting you as you moved forward.

After the game ended, everyone was taken back to the room. The atmosphere was heavy, filled with fear and despair. Lost looks, uncertain steps — everyone seemed terrified, and you were no different.Sitting on one of the beds, you rocked back and forth, an automatic motion, a desperate attempt to find comfort. But it didn’t help. Your breathing was uneven, the sounds around you seemed amplified, and all you wanted was to leave. Your mind raced in circles, always returning to the same question: Why me? You just wanted to help your mother. Everything you did was for her, and now you were trapped here, too scared to do anything.Then the voice of the masked soldiers echoed through the room, imposing order, the man from before who said he had already participated in this game proposed the vote.At first, the idea of voting seemed like an escape. A chance to get out of that terrible situation.

But then they revealed the amount of money accumulated by the people who had died. The sum gleamed in a giant safe suspended in the room. The shine of the money seemed to hypnotize some. Murmurs started to arise. Many were considering staying. You felt a tightness in your chest.

When the vote began, the sound of buttons being pressed was like a constant drum in your ears. You watched the people go to the ballot box, one by one, pressing their votes. Some hesitated, others went with determination.When it was your turn, your hands trembled as you walked up to the ballot box. The panel blinked in front of you: a circle to stay and an “X” to leave. You could barely see properly, your vision blurred by the tears at the corners of your eyes.Your finger pressed the “X.” You wanted to leave, go home. You needed your mother as much as she needed you. But when the final vote was recorded and the numbers were revealed, your heart sank.The majority had chosen to stay.Panic took over you again. Your fingers began to tremble uncontrollably, and you went back to your bed, feeling your whole body tighten. Your mind was in chaos. The rocking movement returned, but this time even more intense, as if your body was trying to compensate for the avalanche of emotions.You felt helpless. You wanted to scream, to cry, but all you could do was try to hold onto the little control you still had.

The terror was greater than anything you had ever felt before. And, even worse, it was just the beginning

Part 2:

#autistic!reader #squid game #cho hyunju #player 120 #cho hyun ju x reader #Cho Hyun-Ju fem!reader #Cho Hyun-Ju autistic!reader #park sunghoon #Squid game x reader

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creative-crybaby · 1 year ago

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Knots

PAIRING: masseur!Geto Suguru x fem!reader

GENRE: no curses!au | smut (18+)

Minors DNI

TAGS + WARNINGS: fingering, nipple play, semi-public sex/exhibitionism, oral (f receiving), brief masturbation (m), size kink, praise kink, cum eating, light mentions of/brief marking

Let me know if I missed anything.

WORD COUNT: 4.5k

SUMMARY: With so much stress piling up on you, Geto was kind enough to offer you a massage. Unfortunately, no amount of relaxation can distract you from the sexual tension between you and your friend.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: MAPPA can't draw jjk characters like that and expect me not to write smut about em 🙄also: HAPPY NEW YEARS, LOVELIES <3333

“Are you sure this is okay?” It’s too late to ask him that, but you couldn’t stop the question from leaving your lips. “I’d hate for you to get in trouble.”

Your face burns as silence follows; you can only thank whatever gods above for him not being able to see your expression.

“I won’t tell if you won’t tell,” he chuckles, and you copy the sound nervously, unsure if he is serious. After a pregnant pause, he adds, “I’m kidding. You have nothing to worry about.” Your peripheral vision catches him moving around you to get to the cabinet. “Consider it a favour from a friend.”

You hear the cabinet door open and shut, and you shift from your spot face down on the table.

“At least let me pay you back somehow,” you press, pouting.

“That defeats the point of a favour, doesn’t it?” Geto’s footsteps get louder until you catch sight of his shoes from the corner of your eye. There’s another pause, this one longer than the previous one. “Are you comfortable with me unclapsing your bra?” Before you can answer, he quickly continues, “It can stay on like you wanted, I just need the straps out of the way.”

If you aren’t hyping yourself up to take every opportunity to get closer to the masseur, you’re second-guessing your decision to take his offer. Should he follow through with the action, it would only be the beginning of something far more intimate. And you know this. You knew this. Even when Geto first suggested the idea after you opened up about your piling stress and even when you foolishly thought asking Gojo for advice on the offer was a good idea.

But you’re here now, aren’t you?

“Go for it,” you try to mask whatever uneasiness you can. Gentle fingers tug at the clips at the end of your bra, disconnecting them and allowing the straps to drop. Even with your chest still covered, you feel bare, the cool air tickling the newly exposed area. You have to force yourself from shivering.

“You still like the scent of lavender?” Geto's question catches you off-guard, raising your head from the cushion, not realizing that he recalled such a minor detail. Your silence makes the ravenette turn to you again, offering his easy-going smile. “Or have your tastes changed?”

You nod mindlessly, blinking up at him. “Lavender’s good.”

Geto hums before searching through his cabinet, taking several seconds to find the bottle he was looking for. You rest your head back on the cushion before he can catch you staring.

“I’ll be starting now.” The sound of a bottle cap opening follows your friend’s words. “If you’re ever uncomfortable, don’t hesitate to let me know. Otherwise, just lay back and relax.”

Despite his gentle voice, following his order becomes easier said than done once his large hands come in contact with your back, the oil adding to his skin’s warmth. You bit your lip, the serene scent of lavender reaching your olfactory as the masseur works his magic on your stress.

You don’t realize how exhausted your body has felt until Geto applies pressure for the first time, and you cringe.

“Easy, easy,” he soothes, pausing his ministrations once you try to relax your body. “Wow, you are stressed.”

You allow your body to sink further into the table’s mattress when his soft laughter reaches your ears, and you give him the go-ahead to continue. Fingerpads return to your skin, rubbing heavy yet sturdy circles onto your back, untying any and every knot trapping your muscles. You can feel your body fall limp, drowning heavily while at the same time floating into the heavens as every evidence of exhaustion disappears from you.

Still, even as you try to keep your mind blank and enjoy the moment, you can’t help but notice how much space Geto’s hand takes up on your back. It doesn’t help that they creep up to your neck, more than ready to push the problems away from that area.

“So,” you trail off, feeling the need to fill the silence rather than embrace it, “You give these massages to Ieiri or Satoru?”

The ravenette chuckles. “If you’d call the occasional shoulder rub a proper massage, then sure.”

A memory of the four of you at a local diner pops into your head, Shoko telling Geto a shoulder massage was the least she deserved after all the all-nighters she’s suffered through. You giggled, watching the medical student melt under the masseur’s magic touch, ignoring the twinge of jealousy that prodded your mind.

You quip. “Not even a full-body one? Ieiri’s the one who deserves it the most out of us.”

“Guess she just never has the time for one,” he hums.

“And Satoru?”

Geto snickers, pausing his actions. You join in on the laughter, a small swell of pride blooming in your chest.

Your joy is cut short when he resumes the massage, adding pressure to a specific area below the nape of your neck that forces a whimper out of you. You freeze, hoping the masseur didn’t hear it. But with how his hold on you paused, even for just a moment, you couldn’t deceive yourself into believing you were in the clear.

“Sorry,” you squeak, the warmth from your face expanding to the rest of your body. Could he feel it?

You can hear the smile in his voice. “So tense, aren’t you?”

You don’t miss the octave drop in his voice, biting your tongue. Geto returns to work, his fingers digging into your skin and untying whatever knots your muscles carried for who knows how long. You allow yourself to sigh at the sensation, your brows knitting together from the pressure without the discomfort.

His hands travel lower, returning to previous areas with added strength until he reaches the small of your back. You try not to tense upon feeling his fingers graze the towel covering your bottom, but you can’t prevent the shaky moan from escaping your lips once his hold shifts to your hips.

Another pause from him: another apology from you.

“Nothing for you to be sorry about.” Your friend assures you, though you barely miss the light strain in his tone. “I’ll be working on your legs next, okay?”

You hum lightly, shifting from your spot as he passes what the towel covers. Your thoughts wander before you can put them on a leash, the pang of disappointment from the neglect of that area allowing your imagination to drift.

Would a massage there even feel good? Geto would undoubtedly find a way, his large hands practically blanketing each cheek. And his fingers—God, they were the stars of the show, finding the spots that needed the most attention and pushing every bit of tension out of your worn-out body. You’re confident his digits would be just as adventurous in other places.

You feel yourself clench around nothing and fear the handsome man above you possibly noticing. Shaking your head, you hope those thoughts fly out like fleas.

Geto stops. “Too much?”

“Hm?” You snap out of your daze. “Oh, no. I’m fine.”

The masseur’s hands glide up to your upper thighs, and you freeze, his hold remaining in place as he leans closer to your head.

“You don’t have to go through with this if you don’t like it,” he says, his voice calm. “I can return the favour some other way.”

Your body moves before your brain can command it to. Or rather, stop it from doing so. Hastily, you raise your head from the cushion, your upper torso following suit as it twists to face your friend.

“I can take it.”

Silence. Too much of it for your liking. It has your stomach churning and your heart ramming against your ribs. Maybe it’s the heaviness in your body that follows you getting up too quickly, or your word choice. It could also be how Geto stares at you with parted lips, his eyes on you but not meeting your gaze.

Instead of further embarrassing yourself by speaking, you follow his focus, only to wish you hadn’t.

Your bra, long forgotten by you, barely hangs onto your body by its straps by your elbows, exposing your back as well as most of your chest. The lavender scent is no longer soothing, the heat on your face is dizzying, and you’d want nothing more than to run out the door if only your legs weren’t practically limp from your friend’s treatment. It doesn’t help that his hold on the back of your upper thighs hasn’t budged. If anything, it’s tightened, his grip making your clit jump.

You suppose you spoke too soon once the warmth of Geto’s touch disappeared from your legs, the masseur having moved to reach for your bra straps to pull them back up to your shoulders before you could process his actions. You blink, eyes trailing up to his face now adorning a rosy hue and soft lips pressed into a thin line. He’s so much closer, his breath barely fanning the top of your head. And if you aren’t forcing your gaze to meet his, you’re impulsively glancing back at his mouth.

With so much focus on the beautiful man, you don’t catch him slowly but surely leaning in.

The last discernable thing you catch is Geto’s lidded eyes darkening before he presses his lips against yours.

You don’t breathe. You forget to, just like how you leave your mouth slightly agape and your eyes wide open.

The ravenette pulls away quicker than he’d leaned in, and the corners of your lips twitch downwards. His brows furrow as he looks at you with a brighter flush on his handsome face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

No. You won’t let him regret his actions, not for your sake.

The sudden shift in perspective is alarming when, only moments ago, you feared ruining your relationship with your friend. Now, you’re shifting to sit on the massage table, grabbing Geto by his shirt collar, tugging him forward and slamming his lips onto yours. You groan at the impact, relaxing only a second later once he returns the kiss with just as much hunger.

But he’s still not close enough. His hold remains on your bra straps, making it harder for you to wrap your arms around his neck. It’s the only reason you pull back, locking eyes with him as you place your hands on his.

“Suguru,” you pant, chest heaving for air as your lids droop. Your following words stay trapped in your throat, the masseur having slid his hold higher up your shoulders to bring you back to the kiss. You squeak, the fervour behind his actions far more evident as his tongue teases your lower lip. He groans into your mouth, his thumbs caressing your skin as you invite him in, eager to have him even closer.

Your hands are still on top of Geto’s, you remember, and you slide his down your arms while he’s distracted by the kiss. (With how he’s swirling his tongue around yours, you aren’t sure you can call it a “kiss” anymore.)

You pull back hastily, not missing the string of saliva connecting your bottom lips before motioning for him to look down. His sharp eyes do so, blinking out of his haze as he sees how the cups of your bra no longer cover your breasts. You don’t recall when you stopped caring about your face burning like it was on fire, the pride in your chest and lust in your lower belly now the dominant sensations as he looks at you like you’re the most beautiful creature on the planet.

“Please,” he gulps, an unmissable strain in his voice. “Let me taste you.”

Even after the lewd makeout session, his words left your mouth cotton-dry. You can only kiss him again, guiding his hands to cup your breasts, your bra sliding off your arms.

When Geto pulls back, his lips reattach to your skin, trailing down your neck to the valley of your mounds. He lightly pushes you to lie down on the table, making yourself comfortable before plopping one of your nipples into his mouth, the other one between his fingers. Your own hands loosen his hair from its bun, the strands falling gracefully onto his broad back. They’re as soft as they look, your fingers streaming through the midnight locks like water past the pebbles in the river.

The masseur switches his treatment, the other nipple now teased by the grazing of his teeth while his large hand keeps the second breast from neglect. Your body feels hot, and the warmth of his mouth does little to soothe the issue. But with how much you’ve been rubbing your thighs together, you’d hardly consider this a problem now.

Your hands remain in his hair as Geto continues kissing down your body, stopping just at the apex of your thigh to peer at you with those dark pools for irises. One of his hands removes the towel from your lap, revealing your thin shorts underneath. He tugs at the waistband, silently asking for your permission. Your response consists of your hips rising from the table, and he’s quick to shimmy your remaining clothes off your body, stealing another passionate kiss from you in the process.

“I want nothing more than to hear every sound I get out of you,” your friend (can you still call him that?) pants, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards and his face flushed as he watches your reaction through hooded lids. You lean in, chasing his lips for another kiss. He stops you with a finger, and you hold back the whine squeaking from your throat. He chuckles. “But I’m going to need you to keep your voice down. Can you do that for me?”

You almost forgot that you’re in a public setting, even with the privacy of a closed door. Geto warmly smiles when you nod, and he lowers himself to face your crotch, helping you shift to let your legs dangle off the table. You find his eyes widening upon catching sight of your bare cunt already drooling your essence. The ravenette exhales shakily before planting a kiss on your clit, making you twitch. Your reaction makes him chuckle, and he licks long strips against your slit, moaning through his languid movements.

“What was that about being quiet?” You giggle breathily, leaning your weight on your hands. Geto pauses.

“Sorry, beautiful,” he whispers with a smile, tightening his hold on your thighs. “You taste like a dream.”

You throw your head back as your eyes flutter shut, his words and continued ministrations between your legs setting your body ablaze and your mind blank. It doesn’t help that he’s practically encouraging you to cage him tightly between your thighs, squeezing his head in place as he makes out with your cunt. Your hips grind into his touch, moving in tandem with his soft lips and warm tongue.

Even with his sensual movements, you can tell he’s holding back, if his tight hold on the fat of your thighs is any indication. Your hips grind into his touch, allowing him permission to feast on you how he’d like, gripping a fistful of his locks for further encouragement. And the masseur seems to have gotten the message, his tongue digging inside you while his nose nudges at your pearl.

Holding back your sounds of pleasure is already a challenge—warning the handsome male beneath you of your oncoming release doesn’t even seem possible, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as the sensation in your lower belly grows stronger.

And maybe Geto doesn’t need you to tell him. Or maybe, he’s just so lost in the taste of your essence that he’s decided to wrap his soft lips around your puffy clit and suck, the tip of his tongue flicking at the nub at the same time. Whatever the case, his actions do the trick, your hold on his head tightening as your legs shake while your jaw falls slack. The ravenette doesn’t falter, pushing himself closer to your cunt, his mouth working its magic and creating sounds that would embarrass you if it weren’t for the ringing in your ears.

Coming down from the high, plus the massage, has you losing your hold on yourself. Luckily for you, Geto quickly rises from his spot, catching you by the waist and pulling you into another kiss with a soft groan. Your taste on your tongue and the need for air make you dizzy, but you bring him closer regardless.

“‘M sorry,” he pants after ending the kiss, his chin shining with your slick. “Just had to show you how good you taste.”

You can only whimper in response, feathering kisses on his lips as you play with his hair. Geto happily lets you, his large hands mapping your torso and thighs as if burning every curve into his memory.

“Didn’t know this came with the free massage,” you mumble against his mouth, holding back a smile.

“There’s plenty more where that came from,” he purrs, moving you back down on your stomach like you weigh nothing. You hear the rustling of clothing, and before you can ask him what he’s doing, you feel a weight hovering over your figure. Familiar, large hands splay open on either side of your head while muscular thighs cage your legs in place. “Do you trust me?”

Something pokes your lower back, and you almost forget to answer with the masseur’s hot breath against your ear. You lift your hips to grind against his crotch with a whimper, hoping that’ll be more than enough for him.

Your actions make Geto laugh, and he teasingly nibbles at your earlobe. “Use your words, darling.”

It doesn’t help that he’s taken his tip to glide across your slit, collecting your juices as a lubricant. You twist your head to face him, one of your hands gripping on the cushion above you as a distraction.

“I’ve been waiting a lot longer for this moment than you know,” you confess meekly, watching as the ravenette’s eyes widen and lips part from your words. “And I don’t think I can keep it up any longer.”

You worry you’ve revealed too much too soon when you’re met with silence. But when that familiar smile and soft gaze grace Geto’s features, the nerves fluttering in your stomach evaporate.

The handsome male presses a kiss against your temple. “That makes two of us, then.”

With only a few seconds to register his confession, your heart does a doubletake before you feel Geto lead his cock into your heat, his hand gripping yours as reassurance. The subtly painful stretch that follows suit makes you grateful for the gesture, your insides splitting in half as he just keeps going in. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, feeling every vein graze against you.

The masseur notices, it seems, and he whispers encouraging words in your ear, giving you the occasional kiss on your shoulder.

“There you go,” he drawls quietly, his crotch meeting your ass. “Nice and full, aren’t you?”

You exhale shakily, feeling his strong chest pressed against your back. On rare occasions, when Geto wears tight-fitting shirts, you’re blessed with the sight of his chiselled physique, especially his back, since he can’t catch you ogling. The chance to leave your mark there, like an artist’s signature on a painted canvas, is one you’ve longed for. However, with the knot in your belly ready to snap without having him even move makes you grateful for the current position. Maybe next time you’ll get to see all of him.

Next time.

“Can I move, darling?” Geto's breath tickles your skin. “I’m afraid I won’t last too long with how you’re squeezing me.”

The almost boyish giggle he breathes out has your heart rocketing in your ribs. Your affirmation comes out weak, but the masseur hears it loud and clear. He reels his hips back, but it’s when he buries his shaft back into you that you feel your eyes roll back once more. Your jaw falls open, a moan slipping out as he sets a languid yet deep pace.

“We need to keep quiet, remember?” Geto shushes, his face buried in your neck. “My massages are good, but even outsiders might grow suspicious if you’re too loud.”

His soft laughter mixes with your pleading whine. “You’re not making it easy for me.”

The ravenette halts his movements, much to your dismay. Even with you wiggling your hips, he doesn't budge, and you’re about to ask him about the holdup before he beats you to it.

“You think it’s easy for me?” The soothing lilt of his voice is long gone, replaced with a low timbre that has you clenching around his girth. “I’ve got you milking me for all I’m worth, and we barely started. What do you think that does to me?”

You feel his teeth graze your skin, making you shiver as you try to regain friction between your legs. Geto's stronger than you, much stronger, and your movements don’t make him budge.

With a quivering sigh, you prop yourself on your forearms, and he retracts from his hiding spot in your neck. You face him, lids hanging low on your eyes and face warmer than it should be.

“Show me.”

With a smirk, Geto pulls himself out until only his tip remains before slamming back into you. You choke on a gasp, his pace and strength relentless as his hips slap against your ass, the sounds bouncing off the walls. You can’t even call him out on his hypocrisy as you bury your face into the table, hoping it’ll help mask your cries.

It doesn’t, of course. But Geto Suguru, ever the gentleman, carefully lifts your head by your neck and, while hovering over you, slams his lips against yours. The position isn’t the most comfortable, but you don’t find yourself complaining as he rams into you, filling you up and moulding your insides into the shape of his cock.

Your eyes don’t know what to do, from squeezing shut to crossing. At one point, you catch the door in your peripheral vision, and the thought of potentially getting caught has you clenching, your hand reaching for the masseur’s bicep and digging your nails into his pale skin.

Geto grunts. “You trying to make me cum, beautiful?”

His playful tone makes you whine, his pace never faltering as he sneaks one of his hands under you to grope one of your breasts. The toying of your nipple, along with the male’s relentless thrusts, fuels the coil in your belly, and what does the trick is him leaving his mark on your neck.

With a drawn-out gasp, your body stills, toes curling and tongue lolling out as your pussy convulses. You hardly notice Geto’s strokes growing sloppy, his whispered cursing going in one ear and out the other. Having him lead you to heaven is plenty for you.

Once you calm down, though, you feel like he’s pulled out too soon. You groan, your ears catching the light sounds of him shuffling from his spot above you, followed by a rapid squelching noise that has you peeking over your shoulder.

There, in all his naked glory, is Geto stroking his cock, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth and eyes zeroed in on your figure.

“Shit, shit—” he cuts himself off with a gasp, ropes of cum shooting from his slit and landing on the back of your thighs. The sight alone has you clenching, the need for him inside you arising once more. “Oh, fuck—”

Anyone would grow angry at a mess thrown at them. You’re no different, just worse (the one time Gojo accidentally made you ruin your eyeliner is more than enough proof—the poor fool).

And yet, having painted your thighs white by Geto, his seed clinging to your oily (and now sweaty) skin, you somehow find yourself falling for him more.

“Suguru,” you slur, your eyelids fluttering as you allow your body to slump back onto the table. You feel his weight disappear before hearing footsteps grow louder. Through tired eyes, you’re face-to-face with his crotch, causing you to squeak as your upper body jolts up again.

“Sorry, sorry,” the masseur chuckles, crouching to meet you at eye level. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

The atmosphere returns to the comforting one his work ought to bring, though a part of you finds yourself fidgety. The ravenette wipes away the evidence with a wet towel, and it’s enough to keep you in place and relaxed as he continues to take care of you.

Once done, he helps you sit up, keeping you steady as your legs dangle off the table.

“I think you fucked the bones out of me,” you croak, and Geto pauses midway from sliding your underwear back up your legs. He laughs a soft, boyish laugh, the melody bringing a smile to your lips and a warmth of embarrassment to your cheeks. “Is this what you had in mind by doing me a favour?”

He pecks your nose before resuming dressing you. “No, but I’m not complaining with the results.”

You hum, and the silence returns as he aids you with the rest of your clothes.

It isn’t until he’s slipping his boxers back on that you speak again. “You don’t give this kind of special treatment to the others?”

A witless, little joke on your part, though your tone didn’t match. Maybe it was the exhaustion that took charge or a sliver of self-consciousness that needed assurance that you had him all to yourself. Still, you press your lips into a thin line, awaiting his answer.

“To our friends or my clients?” he inquires, putting on the remainder of his clothes. “Either way, the answer’s no.” When you don’t say anything else, he approaches you, nudging his nose against yours. “Did you want me to?”

Your head snaps up to meet his amused gaze. “No!”

Geto's joking smile eases into a sincere one, his strong arms wrapping around your waist and embracing you.

“Perfect,” he breathes, pressing his lips to your temple. “Guess that means you’re the only one who gets my special treatment.” A pause, followed by a sheepish giggle. “As long as we do it outside of my job. I’d like to keep it, you know.”

From your position, you peer over his shoulder to where the door stands a few meters away, shut and locked but keeping you in suspense. With heat bubbling in your face, you hide in the crook of his neck.

“You technically never finished my massage,” you mumble against his skin, your hands tracing any muscle it can reach on his back. Geto pulls back from the hug, jutting his bottom lip as if pondering.

“I suppose you’re right,” he hums before another smile breaks onto his features. “Shall we continue back at my place, then?”

#fanfic #fanfiction #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #geto suguru #geto smut #geto x reader #smut

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wulvercazz · 4 months ago

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🎃Halloween Town, Baby Interlude🦋🍼

Back to Masterpost👻

Isshin felt an anxious breath drop from his lungs the minute the child started to cry, safe, alive; and not at the cost of Grimmjow’s wellbeing. Or, not anymore, at least. When it became clear that a natural birth (as natural as this could be) was simply out of the question, both the child and the witch threatening to fade out of reach, Isshin made the choice to cute through, instead. A little ‘trick’ he’d learned from humans themselves in his young years, when following his passion for treating illnes tool him as far as the next dimension. To anyone born in Halloween all this would already be several levels of traumatic; but for a human, under the influence of body-modifying spells and in a situation that went south so fast, Isshin expected Grimmjow to be in hysterics. To resent the child, or even Ichigo– however accidental his involvement may have been. “You don’t have to see him, if you don’t want to.” He reassures, pressing the crying child to his chest. But with a pale semblance and tired breaths, Grimmjow shook his head weakly and raised his arms however much he could, “n-no, I want to–” “Sure,” he simply agreed, and brought the whimpering little bundle close to the witch’s body, settling him carefully for Grimmjow to see. Contemplative silence filled the room, Isshin staying close in the possibility that the witch may change his mind and decide he wants nothing to do with a child not of his blood, created a situation such as this. He’d understand anger, even disgust. “He is–?” Grimmjow mumbles as a sort of question. “Lepidoptera, yes–” “Really Ichigo’s.” His breath hitches, in surprise, maybe shame; “yes.” He simple affirms after a little pause. “Shouldn’t he get to meet him too?” “Yeah, he should.” And without a nother word, he retrieves his son; who’s actually near hysterics himself. Ichigo shuts the door behin him with a soft, hurried, click, and only after Grimmjow reassures him half a dozen times that he’s okay now, damnit, and would feel even better after a little rest, do the words start to really spill out of him mouth. “I-I’m sorry- fuck- I’m sorry,” the prince leans on his hands at the edge of the be, to get a closer look at the human’s face; to ‘asses’ the damage like he has any medical knowledge like his father does. “I should’ve realized Aizne was after you– I- I should have allowed him to involve you in his shit.” “I don’t know, … this little guy looks an awful lot like you.” Grimmjow interrupts with a rough voice, bleeding with amusement until the corners of his mouth turn into a little smirk. And the prince’s apologies die in his mouth, his dark eyes widening as he finally dares to cast a glance down to the little boy; gasping under his breath at the sight of bright yellow eyes curiously squinting at the space around him. “I don’t remember anything at all about that night, Aizen made sure I wouldn’t,” Grimmjow says softly, word starting to blur together in exhaustion, “but that works fine for me. He sort of feels… like our baby…” Ichigo stares at Grimmjow’s sleeping form for a whole minute after the last word was quietly mumbled out of his lips; his heart beating hard against his ribcage along with things he didn’t want too dissect just yet. So he focuses on the little child’s face, the fluffy tuft of thin fur on his chest that’s entirely moth, like the wrinkled little wings that have slowly started to straighten out on their own; but also on the odd swirl of ginger on his head. The tiny nubs where horns would surely develop soon and the tight hold Grimmjow’s kept even now that sleep has taken over him. But that wouldn’t last long, when far outside the castle a howl shook the trees; he growled under his breath looking out into the forest when Aizen’s home hid, but stopping short when a tiny whimper chased after him. “S-sorry kiddo,” he cooed at the boy, “there's something I gotta do.”

#HalloweenTown2022 #ichigo kurosaki #grimmjow jaegerjaquez #ichigrimm #一グリ #fankid oc #bleach #grimmichi

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saytrrose · 1 year ago

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Can we see More about your racing AU please?

Looks so amazing and i love It so much

I do suppose I could share the character design line up!

I really just need to finish designing all the go karts, (atleast most are done!) and then I can make proper cards for them and really get into the written details.

To be honest it’s a little hard to just ramble about info and details without specific questions to go off of, so I’ll try my best hhh

for starters, the tent? Not a tent!

It’s actually a stadium, the amazing digital race!

And rooms? Sort of tweaked, they are more like each character owns a personal garage, a large open space where they store their vehicles and then have a loft above that showcases their cozy safe havens. Bed, entertainment, basically a small room in a much larger one.

I haven’t revealed Ragatha, Zooble or Gangles karts yet but I’ll go ahead and just talk about all of them!

Caine:

Caine has a motorcycle, specifically one inspired off of the motorcycle I’m saving up for this summer, a Kawasaki Eliminator. It’s a cruiser, I’m thinking he has a 600cc model but considering Bubble is his right hand man and operates as the races pit crew- he’s definitely tinkered with Caines bike, making adjustments and improving the engine. God only knows what the little psycho did, but it’s a damn good bike that’s not supposed to rev as loud as it does.

Pomni:

Her kart is inspired off a Volkswagen Beetle, seemed very VERY Pomni to me. Her car mimics her outfit design a lot, I might do some color changes to be honest but it will be super minimal, it’ll be final when the cards are done! She definitely stops at the pit the most often despite her placement in a race, are my tires okay?? Do I need my oil?? I know you just filled it but it went down- is anything damaged?? Sweetie you did one lap..

Jax:

Jesus Christ he has a giant supercharger on the hood of his car, and he is absolutely one of those annoying mfs that reva their engine OBNOXIOUSLY loud all the time like he’s super cool. If you’re wondering who most of the skid marks on the track are from, that’s also Jax. Hes the best as drifting, and he loves to show that off. His car isn’t based too much on an actual vehicle?? I stared at Mario karts and pieced it together, but also gave it a very sports car look, the wing on the back fr fr I think Jax would dig that.

Kinger:

OHHSOSK I was so creative with his little wagon,,, it’s castle shaped!! And the best part? Operates like a rocket. In the back past the battlement (the crown looking thing you see atop castle pillars) ARE GIANT exhaust pipes and yes, they do spit fire !! Operates like a rocket. It’s very cool! (Also he has a great muffler because unlike Jax he’s considerate of others hearing 💔) Oh also, he has one of those silly horns, I forgot how to describe it but you can just look at how I drew it on his kart and you’ll know heheh!

Zooble:

Our second motorcyclist, owns a trike! If you don’t know what that is, picture a bike with training wheels but super badass. 3 wheels! It’s inspired off the Harley Davidson freewheeler, I like that design a lot but it’s def not actually a Harley because istg when you buy those bikes your just paying for the fancy name brand- expect it to be in the shop all the time, smh not good- BUT ANYWAY!! The looks are inspired off it though and I can’t wait for this one because it’s just as crazy kooky as Zoobles design is.

Gangle:

Her kart is based on my favorite car, classic style but not too cool because you can bet she has anime stickers on the back and a decal that says “please let me merge before I start crying.” It’s similar to a karmann ghia convertible, 1963. Cherry red (so so pretty) She always has the top down, unless competing because damn you gotta go fast. That car itself is really slow, top speed normally is 68mph, however people have modified them enough to get up to 120mph. Thats still pretty slow compared to others, but her kart only reflects the appearance of the ghia! It’s much faster and I assume Bubble works on all their vehicles if asked to.

Lastly, Ragatha:

Our 3rd motorcyclist. 4 Karts, 3 cyclists. Her bike is a futuristic style, if you want a good idea then look up “icare bike”! Not so much a straight forward posture, she leans over ofc, you’ll likely get the idea when you see her bike. I’ll be honest, I haven’t gotten too into her design yet because I haven’t started drawing but!! Dark blue leds,, everywhere yes yes so cool ❤️

Sorry that’s so much 😭 but yeah! Just need to finish 3 kart designs for you guys and I can make official ref cards 👀

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #Caine #tadc Caine #Pomni #tadc Pomni #Jax #tadc Jax #kinger #tadc Kinger #Zooble #tadc Zooble #gangle #tadc gangle #Ragatha #tadc Ragatha #tadc racing au

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delilahsturniolo · 1 month ago

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sweet — m.s

in which . . . matt can’t help but be clingy towards you after coming home from a trip. (requested by @matttsangel)

warnings . . . none!

written by @delilahsturniolo. do not copy, steal, or modify my works. do not take inspiration without asking permission first, and if you are taking inspo from my writing please credit me! happy reading! :)

“it’s so sweet.”

“knowing that you love me.”

you laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling. your eyes kept darting to the digital clock on your nightstand, keeping track of the time.

it was pretty late in the night, and right now you were as impatient as ever. tonight, matt and his brothers were coming home from a long trip to boston.

they had stayed for about 2 weeks, you couldn’t go since you had a huge AP test you couldn’t miss. so, that meant you had to be home alone without the triplets.

you missed matt more than anything, it was weird being without him everyday. for the past few days, you couldn’t wake up next to him, you couldn’t cuddle him, you couldn’t have movie nights.

of course, he’d call you every day and night make sure you were taking care of yourself, and tell you how much he loves and misses you. you were independent, but at the same time you relied on matt a lot.

you sighed heavily, your eyes about to shut. matt had specifically told you not to wait up for him since he’d be home late, but you couldn’t help it. you just missed him a lot, you couldn’t wait to see him.

just as you were about to drift off, you heard the front door open, and a few footsteps entering the house. you gasped, immediately jolting up and out of bed.

you recognized matt’s footsteps trudging up the stairs, you heard him grunt as he lugged his suitcase.

matt opened the door, smiling weakly as he saw you. you squealed, running up to matt and engulfing him into a tight hug, not caring in the slightest that you almost knocked him over. you could see how tired he was from traveling.

“hi baby” matt laughed, exhaustion present in his demeanor. he rubbed your back as you buried your head into his chest. “i missed you so much!” you exclaimed, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

“i missed you more lovey.” matt whispered into your ear. you giggled in excitement as he picked you up, playfully throwing you on the bed and laying on top of you and wrapping his arms around you.

he shut his eyes, taking in the sound of your laughter. the sight of seeing you happy never failed to make him smile.

“c’mere princess.” matt pulled you closer, peppering kisses all over you. his lips trailed up from your neck to your cheeks, expressing his love and care for you.

he snuggled into you, holding you tightly in his arms. you felt his drained body melt against yours, his eyes shutting. your hands tangled into his hair, soothing him gently.

“how was boston?” you spoke softly, matt hummed in exhaustion.

“it was good, mary lou says she misses you. s’tired though..” matt murmured into the crook of your neck, his grip didn’t falter as he began to drift off.

you smiled, hugging him back and shutting your eyes as well.

it was sweet, he was so precious. you loved him more than ever. and now, he was here with you again.

join the taglist here! 🤍

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2kiran · 1 year ago

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I read through your rules and i think my request should be fine but even so, please let me know if you don't wanna write it!

If you're still doing requests... can you write something for Price x male reader where Reader's a bit younger than him and he's never drank before ever. And he hides it to not seem like a loser or anything (lol) but when the team goes out drinking after a mission he gets served higher alcohol content bc they thought he'd be a heavy drinker?

No smut, just maybe hurt/comfort and fluff? Ignore this if you wouldn't like to <3

꒦⁺ DRUNK (NOT AGAIN) —— JOHN PRICE

modified 30.08.24 | HURT/COMFORT

content ˖ ࣪ ˖ affectionate price, male reader, may be read as platonic or romantic, reader is 2+ years younger, descriptions of injuries, mentioned violence, tf141 included, insecurity (love, towards r), drinking, tipsy reader, crying (r), kissing & hugging

The mission was successful. The medevac helicopter was arriving soon, allowing time for a small discussion. Only minutes prior, it was havoc, alerting all of you. The enemy had set a trap, causing a few fuck-ups on your side.

Soap clutched at his side with a cloth, “Aye cap, think we can go for some drinks ‘fter this?” He let out a pained grunt when he applied too much pressure.

Price sighed in response, opening a box in the deserted warehouse that had the necessary equipment for a few stitches. “As long as you don’t pass out right now.”

Gaz sent a wary glance at their way, dabbing a cotton that was soaked in antibiotic ointment on his slashes. Ghost, who stayed in his own corner, only had a few small cuts. Your own injuries were long forgotten as you registered their words.

The problem with their agreement was that you’ve never drank, not even one sip. Ever displaying a good image of yourself, you didn’t want to find out how you were when you’re drunk. Alcoholic beverages have never been one of your interests. Being aware of the fact that people who were younger than you spent their precious time clubbing and drinking away their problems without a care made it worse.

You didn’t want anyone to view you negatively for that, especially them. That included not telling a single soul and rejecting invitations to parties. You just didn’t want to be seen as a ‘kill joy’ when you tell them that you’ve never touched alcohol.

It also meant avoiding questions from drunkards and lying when they’re pestering you too much. The constant ‘what if’s of being just average ate away at your brain. You didn’t want your team to see you as a good-for-nothing loser that they could easily discard at any given time. Maybe if you left they—

“Hey.”

You didn’t respond.

“Hey.”

One, two, three, four seconds pass.

“Look at me.” You blinked.

Your vision refocused, blurry gaze dissipating. You had zoned out. Price stood in front of you, urging you to tilt your head to look up at him. The blinding lights hung on the ceiling, leaving prominent shadows across the room. The silhouette gracefully traced over his features.

The both of you were in the infirmary, all patched up and wounds cleaned. Left alone together, away from the others. “Sorry. You were saying?” You asked, embarrassed warmth spreading across your cheeks.

A ghost of a smile quirked from his cheeks, “Are you okay?” His voice was hoarse from exhaustion.

“Yeah, I’m good. Are you?” You slightly stumbled over your words as an ache from your side had you stilling. He nodded, eyes traveling over your form. His usual sharp eyes softened upon continuing his inspection of you as if you were made of extra fragile porcelain. The certain look in his eyes and how his attention lingers on you could be compared on how he stares at his precious hat for far too long.

“We’re going to a bar. You joining, love?” A tentative question, which makes you ponder on answering. You hum in agreement, not wanting to ruin the moment.

Maybe you should’ve rejected the offer like you always did.

The bar was dimly-lit, lights darting throughout the space, while slow, almost seductive music danced from the speakers. There were several people in the bar, including the bartenders. All harboring the same mysteriousness that you took for suspicion. It wasn’t quiet, booming laughter erupted from some, while the rest had their voice hushed in a whisper. Most of them were drunk, you noted.

“Finally.” Soap dramatically sighed, stretching his arms as he chooses a booth.

“It’s really been that long?” Gaz responded in a question to soap’s enthusiasm. Surprisingly, Ghost joined. He wasn’t going to drink for the sake of privacy, of course, the sergeants just managed to convince force him. The three sat close to each other while you and price were next to one another. It made you tingle in anticipation and fright.

A waiter approached, and they all responded with ‘something heavy’. You gulped nervously, telling the man the same thing.

Every minute that passed had you fidgeting, made you begin to bounce your leg up and down as you waited and waited and waited. You itched to tell them the truth, but you’ll only look like a coward. The others spoke about nonsense and such, while the captain’s attention was on you.

He was aware that something was wrong, but he couldn’t point his finger at what it could be. The impulsive side of his brain wanted to ask you directly, right here in front of the team. But he knew how closed off and irritable you could get in situations like these, so he rather keep his mouth shut.

The waiter arrived with your drinks on a tray, foam sizzling and a dented lemon on the rim of the glass. It whiffed of high worth, the house of the liquid appearing expensive itself. The stem was thinner than you originally thought it would be. It was appetizing, and you start to understand why people spend their time on drinking this. However, you’ve heard of people’s first times, most of them stating that it tasted bitter in the beginning.

The sergeants grabbed their drinks like starving animals, nearly spilling it on themselves. You examined their expression, their brows furrowed as they gulped down the first few sips before their face relaxed.

“Feeling drunk yet?” Soap questioned, gaze directed towards the captain. He began sipping away at his too, seemingly unbothered by all of the alcoholic content. He pulled away from his glass, “Could have this all day.”

“You gonna drink that?” His monotone voice suddenly placed its attention on you. Responding with a ‘right’ before gripping the glass, you copy the way they were holding it.

One taste couldn’t hurt, right?

Unknowingly, you did it a little too eagerly.

“Yeaaah! That’s the spirit.” Soap cheered on and Gaz let out a giggle at that. Ghost’s focus was on scanning the room for suspicious activity that could possibly harm all of you. Price thankfully wasn’t paying attention on you for once.

You could definitely get used to not having to tolerate him stupidly looking at you like you wronged him. They downed their drinks and you followed suit.

It was a rash decision, you soon learned, as your body began feeling warm. Even if it was the slightest of breathing, you could pick up on it. And is it just you or is the music a lot louder than before?

The reality crashed down on you, hitting you like a truck. You were always awfully attempting to please others, but you’ve never thought if that’s what you truly wanted. You feel like a loser. Drinking even though you knew you didn’t want to.

With you being painfully unaware in the state you were in, Price took notice in the change of behavior. Your eyes were watering and your lips were subtly trembling.

Everything felt too overwhelming, too loud, too bright. It was all too much for you. Barely mumbling a ‘I’m going to the restroom’ before you practically sprinted to the only place you could possibly find comfort. They didn’t seem to hear over their obnoxious argument about which weapon was superior and what sucked ass.

Price waited a few minutes, and then telling the group that he needed to use the toilet too. He noticed that you were stumbling in your footing, strange for someone who’s drank a lot more than this. You were only halfway through your drink before you seemed out of it. Maybe it was because of how long your missions lasted, making your tolerance become a little skimpy. It was even weirder to him how you left the door ajar.

Believing that you were alone, you couldn’t hold it in anymore. Your tears began streaming down your cheeks, lightly huffing in pained breaths. You despised this feeling.

Price carefully pushed the door open, exposing your vulnerability to your captain. Looking up at the mirror, you gasped. Quickly realizing your mistake in forgetting to lock the door, but it was too late.

“Love...” he began, eyes boring into yours in concern. Striding towards you, he hugged you from behind. A staring contest made from the mirror. “What’s wrong?”

You sniffed, trying to wipe away your tears but failing as more spilled, “I-I can’t—I’ve, I’ve never drank before and I-I wanted to impress you all.” He stopped himself from immediately speaking about how you would be always perfect despite something so little as not drinking, letting you continue, “I d-didn’t tell you be-because,” a hiccup, “I tho-thought you’d see me as a good-for-nothin’.” Sobs wrecked through your being shamefully as you slurred your words.

“Love.” He said firmly as you opened your mouth to apologize, preventing the words from escaping you. “The team and I would never belittle you.” He kisses your cheek, rubbing your sides to soothe you with his thumbs. “Nothin’ wrong with it, okay? It’s not your fault. Don’t apologize.” Another kiss, using his knuckle to wipe away stray tears, “don’t ever be afraid to speak up ‘bout somethin’ like this.”

You hiccuped more, guilt searing within. He doesn’t stop talking yet.

“Stop feeling guilty about it. There’s no shame in that, others who think otherwise are just little shits. You’re better than them.” He kissed your jaw, ever showering you with affection in any way he was able to. He grabbed your hand, holding it to intertwine his fingers with yours. He tilted his head back up to kiss the trail of wetness on your cheek, hushing your weak sobs gently.

“Let’s go order some food, yeah? And we should get some water too to help the tipsiness. Just let me know if you want to try drinking again so I can help you through it. C’mon, love.” A smile spreads across his lips when your eyes light up in appreciation. He was happy that he had you as much as you were happy to have him.

If soulmates existed, he was yours.

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haveyouseenthisskeleton · 10 months ago

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How would the main group react to an S/O being stubborn while being sick? I mean like fully aware they’re sick and had called into work for the day off. But they keep trying to do some cleaning or organizing or something instead of resting.

Undertale Sans - He hides all the stuff you need to clean, cook, or organize things. Now you have no choice but to sit on the damn couch and watch TV. Don't force him to send you there with blue magic because he will do it. Rest, dammit.

Undertale Papyrus - Well, he lets his S/O do what they want. He can't really say anything since he knows he would do the same if he were in their position. He still rushes to do things before you can so you don't do everything you're doing usually.

Underswap Sans - He gives you three warnings, if you're still not listening, he's handcuffing you to the bed and refusing to free you before you rest at least three hours. You can pout and scream, he doesn't care.

Underswap Papyrus - He locked all the rooms. You can only go into the living room to watch TV, your room, or the bathroom. You're mad, but it's effective. You get bored and eventually decide to go to sleep.

Underfell Sans - He lets you work and keeps adding things for you to do. Eventually, you're exhausted after half an hour and decide to go to sleep on your own. See, you're not in shape for this.

Underfell Papyrus - He puts you back in bed every time you leave the room. After three times, he sits at the edge of the bed and stands guard to make sure you're not moving from there. He won't hesitate to use magic to force you to stay there if you keep resisting.

Horrortale Sans - He grabs you by the waist and drags you towards the couch. He then sits you against him and holds you there for a cuddle session. You can trash and struggle in anger, Oak is way too strong for you and he's not letting go. Give up and rest. He's the most patient monster you know, you have no chance of winning this.

Horrortale Papyrus - He puts everything out of reach for you. If you need something to clean, your only solution is to ask him and his only answer is "NO, GO TO REST." Sometimes being very tall is helping. He knows you're upset, but it's for your own good.

Swapfell Sans - He sent Rus to make sure you don't leave the bed. Rus is torturing you with bad pranks the second you put a foot out of bed. You give up eventually and decide to go back to sleep.

Swapfell Papyrus - He yeets you on the couch with his magic and then he sits on your back so you can't move. Good luck with that. That bastard won't move and you're sure he somehow modified his gravity to be heavier. You're stuck.

Fellswap Gold Sans - He stares at you with disappointment in complete silence for a few minutes and waits for you to feel guilty eventually and to go back to bed. If you insist, he puts a mousetrap in the cleaning drawer and watches you scream in pain as it slaps on your fingers. He told you no, listen to him.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - He climbs in bed and hugs you so tight you can't move. Coffee won't leave before the rest of the day now that he is comfy so accept to rest there and get over it. You can't get rid of him.

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

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house-of-entities · 4 days ago

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—ROOMBA CASTING CALL! [PROLOGUE]

“And again!”

The spotlight blared down relentlessly, illuminating the makeshift stage plopped in the middle of the gloomy Hadal Blacksite. The sudden burst of golden light obliterated the oppressive atmosphere, now replaced with the hauntingly repetitive beats of another 80s pop track. Somewhere off-stage, the ancient CD player had given up on life, skipping over the same note like it was the hottest thing since sliced bread. It didn’t bother them one bit.

In front of the stage, perched like a vulture armed with legal jargon, sat Sasha, a cyan-haired genius who had probably racked up at least six lawsuits—though she’d argue seven for the drama. A clipboard balanced effortlessly on her knee, chai latte #3 in hand, she radiated cool indifference. Everything about her screamed “style,” from her crossed legs to the unnecessarily expensive shades perched on her nose. Truthfully, the shades hid the bags under her eyes, but she’d tell you they were for “aesthetic purposes.”

“You look ridiculous,” Sebastian spat, each syllable practically dripping with venom. He was squished into a sad, sun-faded plastic chair, his tail flopping over the side like it had resigned itself to its miserable fate. The chair creaked ominously, and if chairs could sue for abuse, this one would’ve been first in line. The rest of him wasn’t faring much better. His arms were trapped in a straitjacket—his third arm duct-taped to his side like a bad cosplay malfunction. “Why am I even here?” he hissed, glaring daggers at Sasha.

Sasha didn’t flinch. She merely adjusted her shades, probably imagining she looked intimidating but mostly looking like she was shielding herself from his tragic fashion sense. “Not as ridiculous as you, Mister Solace,” she shot back smoothly. “Now stop whining. This is important work.”

Sebastian squirmed, the plastic chair wobbling precariously. His tail smacked the ground in frustration. “Work?! This is torture. Literal, human-rights-violating torture.”

She sipped her chai nonchalantly, the sound of slurping louder than the skipping CD. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. Besides, you gave me no choice. You resisted.”

“Resisted what?”

“Being my roommate,” she replied, with the tone of someone explaining why water is wet.

Sebastian blinked, his patience finally snapping. “So you KIDNAP me, strap me into a straitjacket, and subject me to this garbage music?!”

“It’s not garbage. It’s a vibe,” Sasha corrected, flipping a page on her clipboard. “And this isn’t about roommates anymore.”

His eyes narrowed, his tail thumping louder. “Then what is it about?”

With a flick of her pen, she gestured to the banner hanging crookedly above the stage. The original text, “Roommate Casting,” had been crossed out, replaced by an aggressively bright, neon-scrawled correction: “ROOMBA CASTING.”

Sebastian stared, his brain short-circuiting. “You’re... auditioning vacuum cleaners?!”

“Yes,” she said simply, gesturing to a lineup of Roombas waiting backstage. Each one had been modified, some with googly eyes, others with questionable attachments. One of them appeared to have a small cowboy hat.

Sebastian buried his face in his hands—or tried to, given the straitjacket. “I’m in hell,” he muttered.

“Hell is subjective,” Sasha mused, smirking. “Now stop complaining. You’re on the judging panel.”

The CD skipped again.

Sebastian let out a long, drawn-out sigh as Sasha snapped her fingers. From behind a flimsy curtain that looked like it had been stolen from someone’s shower, a line of people shuffled onto the stage.

“You’ve got to be kidding me…” Sebastian groaned, his tail thumping against the ground with a mix of exhaustion and disbelief.

The rest of the stage was an odd hybrid: half a proper stage, half a giant hole leading straight into the flooded abyss of the facility. Sasha squinted at the water, momentarily distracted by the obvious design flaw. She was halfway to raising her drink and yelling about how open waters and Roombas were a recipe for disaster when one of the robot friends drop down into the void.

“Uh, is this the bus stop for the 166?” A man slurred suddenly, his voice thick with confusion. He was swaying slightly, like someone who’d mistaken vodka for water—twice. His suit was rumpled, and his nametag, which should have read Berry, had an upside-down and smudged “B,” transforming him into “Ɛeery.”

Sebastian and Sasha stared at him in stunned silence. Then, as if choreographed, they both shook their heads slowly.

Berry—or Ɛeery—blinked, nodded like he understood, and shuffled back behind the curtain. Moments later, he reappeared dragging a bench and a crooked metal sign that somehow read “BUS STOP.” With a grunt of satisfaction, he set up his makeshift transit hub in the corner of the stage, plopped himself down on the bench, and began patiently waiting.

Sebastian turned to Sasha, his tail flicking. “Are we… just gonna let this happen?”

Sasha took a long sip of her drink. “Honestly? It’s the least weird thing that’s happened today.”

Sebastian was still glaring at the makeshift bus stop when the curtain rustled again. This time, a woman stepped onto the stage. She had an air of confidence—or perhaps obliviousness—wearing a trench coat that looked two sizes too big and carrying a massive tote bag that seemed like it contained half a grocery store.

She glanced at the “BUS STOP” sign, then at Berry—or Ɛeery—who was sitting on the bench, staring into the middle distance like a man deep in thought (or entirely thoughtless).

“Excuse me,” the woman said, her voice brisk, “is this the stop for the 166?”

Berry nodded solemnly, like he’d been expecting this question all his life.

“Great.” Without hesitation, she plopped down beside him, her tote bag thudding against the bench. She adjusted her coat and pulled out a sandwich, unwrapping it with the deliberation of someone who had all the time in the world.

Sebastian’s eye twitched. “What is even happening right now?”

Sasha, still sipping her drink, shrugged. “Looks like a functional bus stop to me.”

“They’re on a stage in the middle of a flooded deathtrap,” Sebastian snapped. “There is no bus! There cannot be a bus!”

As if on cue, the woman turned to Berry. “How long until the next one arrives?”

Berry squinted at an imaginary watch. “Ten minutes.”

“Perfect.” She offered him half of her sandwich. He accepted it with a polite nod.

Sebastian buried his face in his bound hands. “I hate this place.”

Sasha leaned back in her chair, clearly entertained. “Maybe the 166 is symbolic,” she mused. “Like… a journey of self-discovery.”

Sebastian glared at her. “If one more person asks about that bus, I’m throwing myself into the hole for an own journey of self discovery.”

Before Sasha could reply, the curtain rustled again.

[Your OC Name] stepped onto the stage, their [Your OC features] dramatically swaying in the non-existent wind, as if they were an angel descending straight from heaven—or at least a very over-the-top shampoo commercial. Their Roomba-tastic charm immediately grabbed the attention of the jury, which was, let’s be honest, just Sasha pretending to take this seriously.

With a deep breath, [Your OC Name] launched into a passionate, soul-stirring speech. Their words were so powerful, so full of raw emotion, that Sasha’s jaw dropped. She clutched her clipboard like it was the only thing tethering her to reality. By the time they finished, she was crying—not from sadness, but from pure, unfiltered excitement.

“Oh my God, yes!” Sasha shrieked, leaping to her feet like she’d just won the lottery. Somewhere in the chaos of applause and overly emotional outbursts, her hand swung wildly, sending her half-full chai latte flying directly into Sebastian’s face.

Sebastian froze, his expression a mix of rage and utter defeat as the lukewarm drink dripped down his cheeks and pooled in his lap. With his arms strapped tightly in the straitjacket, he could do nothing but sit there, seething, while the scent of overpriced chai burned into his nostrils.

“Why,” he said flatly, his voice strained, “must I suffer like this?”

“Oh, quit being dramatic,” Sasha said, waving him off. “It’s just chai. Anyway!” She turned back to [Your OC Name], her excitement uncontainable. “You’re in! Welcome to the House of Entities!”

[Your OC Name] smiled graciously, while Sebastian muttered under his breath, “I hope this house floods.”

Sebastian sat there, dripping in chai latte, his patience thinner than the cheap plastic chair struggling to support him. His tail thumped against the floor, creating a rhythmic thud-thud-thud that perfectly matched his rising annoyance.

“I swear, if one more thing hits me in the face today, I’m filing a complaint with the—”

“Who?” Sasha interrupted, snapping her fingers. “The House of Entities HR department? Oh wait, I run it.” She smirked, clearly enjoying his misery. “Now hush, the next contestant is coming on.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “I thought this was a Roomba audition. Unless you’ve developed a fetish for caffeinated chaos, none of these people even remotely qualify.”

“Hey! I am a visionary,” Sasha snapped, dramatically pointing her pen at him. “You don’t just find the perfect Roomba. You find the spirit of the Roomba within the—”

The curtain rustled again, cutting off her ridiculous monologue. A small man in a red coat shuffled onto the stage, looking around nervously. He held up a single index finger. “Uh, hi. Is this the, uh, karaoke night?”

Sebastian groaned loudly. “No, it’s not karaoke night, it’s—”

“Actually,” Sasha cut in, flipping through her clipboard, “we might have a slot for that next week. What’s your range?”

The man blinked, muttered something about Freddy Mercury and shuffled to the bus stop for the line 166, muttering apologies.

Sebastian whipped his head around to glare at Sasha. “This is a train wreck.”

Sasha shrugged, sipping what little remained of her drink. “Not my fault the Roombas are running late.”

“They’re not late,” Sebastian growled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “They’re non-existent. Because this is not a Roomba audition. It’s your unhinged social experiment, and I’m the only one sane enough to notice!”

Sasha ignored him and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Next!” she called out.

The curtain parted again, and a woman in a bedazzled jumpsuit strutted onto the stage. She carried a feather duster like it was a sword, her movements full of theatrical flair.

“I am just the cleaning lady.” she declared, “The human embodiment of cleanliness. I bring precision, style, and sparkle to every space I touch.”

Sebastian groaned again, louder this time. “Oh, great. A human Roomba. That’s totally what we needed.”

Sasha perked up. “Actually, this might work! Do you beep when you hit walls?”

The woman frowned. “Excuse me?”

“Never mind,” Sasha muttered, jotting down notes.

“This is ridiculous,” Sebastian grumbled, leaning back as far as his restraints allowed. “You’ve had a bus stop, a Freddy Mercury wannabe, and now whatever this is. If one more non-Roomba steps on that stage, I’m done.”

“Relax,” Sasha said breezily. “It’s a process. Greatness takes time.” She turned to the woman. “Do you also vacuum, or just dust?”

“Vacuuming is beneath me,” The woman sniffed.

Sasha waved her off. “Next!”

The curtain swished, and a man in a poorly constructed cardboard box costume rolled onto the stage. A pair of googly eyes were taped to the front, and he let out an electronic beep-boop.

Sebastian stared in stunned silence. “What. Is. That.”

Sasha’s face lit up. “Finally! A Roomba!”

The man cleared his throat, breaking character. “Actually, I’m a Dyson.”

Sasha threw her clipboard on the ground and yelled at the ceiling, “Why, universe?! Why no Roombas?!”

Sebastian’s laughter echoed across the stage, even as chai dripped off his nose. “This might actually be worth it just to see you suffer.”

The curtain fluttered again, and for a moment, nothing seemed to happen. Sasha and Sebastian both leaned forward, confused. Then, with a faint beep, a sleek black Roomba rolled onto the stage, its movement smooth and confident.

But this wasn’t just any Roomba. This one had an hat on its top and—most concerningly—a knife duct-taped to its chassis. Its model name, scrawled in sharp white marker, read: Ghost.

It paused at center stage, let out another dramatic beep, and then zoomed forward, ramming directly into Sebastian’s plastic chair.

“OW! What the—?!” Sebastian barked as the chair wobbled precariously under his weight.

Ghost beeped again, reversing slightly before taking a sharp turn and charging straight at Sasha. She leapt out of her seat with a shriek as the Roomba zoomed under her chair, narrowly missing her legs.

“Oh my god!” Sasha cried, her face lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning. “IT’S A ROOOOOMBAAAA!” She threw her arms into the air in triumph.

The Roomba, unfazed by her enthusiasm, zipped to the edge of the stage, vacuuming up stray crumbs and dust as it went. It spun in a tight circle, let out another triumphant beep-beep, and sped off toward Berry and the woman at the makeshift bus stop.

“Look at it go!” Sasha yelled, practically vibrating with excitement. “It’s got a hat, it’s got a knife—it’s everything I’ve ever wanted!”

Sebastian, still pinned to his chair and thoroughly unimpressed, muttered, “Yeah, perfect. A murder vacuum. Just what we need.”

As if on cue, the faint sound of an engine rumbled from offstage. Before anyone could react, an actual bus—labeled 166—lurched onto the stage, screeching to a halt right in front of the bus stop.

“What the—?!” Sebastian yelled, tail whipping around as the stage shook beneath him.

Berry stood up, brushing nonexistent dust off his pants. “Finally.”

The woman grabbed her tote bag and climbed aboard without a second glance. Ghost, as if perfectly aware of the transit schedule, beeped, zoomed up the bus’s ramp, and parked itself neatly in the corner.

Sasha’s jaw dropped. “Wait! NO! Ghost, come back! You’re supposed to vacuum here, not ride public transportation!”

The bus doors hissed shut, and with a cheerful honk, it reversed off the stage and disappeared into the depths of the flooded facility.

Sebastian blinked, stunned. “Did… did we just lose a Roomba to a bus?”

Sasha collapsed into her chair, defeated. “It was perfect,” she whimpered, clutching her clipboard like a security blanket. “It had a knife.”

Sebastian let out a low, wheezing laugh. “Oh, sure. Cry over the homicidal Roomba. That’s normal.”

“Shut up, Sebastian,” Sasha snapped. “You just don’t understand art!”

And the search for roombas continued.

#pressure house of entities #house of entities #roblox pressure oc #pressure oc #pressure #roblox pressure

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zrashpanda · 30 days ago

Text

Echos of Gold- Chapter 2

ON WE GOOO!

Reader is gender neutral and Spoilers for Arcane Season 2!

Word Count: 1,100

Deep within the Arcane, Viktor stirs. A dull ache pulses in his head as he rubs his temple, slowly piecing together his scattered senses. His golden eyes flicker open, greeted by the strangely familiar, ethereal glow of the Arcane—a realm he’d come to know well during his time in the commune he created. It was a place he often retreated to, a sanctuary where his thoughts could unfurl freely. Yet, something feels off. The energy around him is brighter, sharper, and somehow… emptier. As he glances around, his brows knit together in confusion. “Where… am I?” he murmurs, his voice a quiet echo in the boundless void. He doesn’t expect an answer.

“Beats me. I thought you’d know,” a familiar voice quips from behind. Viktor’s gaze snaps to the source, his heart leaping in relief. Jayce stands there, a weary smile tugging at his lips. “Glad to see you’re okay. Didn’t think we’d make it out alive,” he says, extending a hand. Viktor takes it, allowing Jayce to help him to his feet. His legs are unsteady, but it’s not just from the disorientation. As he glances down at his hands, his breath catches. His form glows with vibrant hues, translucent and ever-shifting, like a living mirage. “I don’t think we are… alive,” Viktor says softly, the weight of the realization sinking in.

Jayce’s smile falters. “What do you mean?” he asks, his voice tinged with unease as he surveys the endless expanse of the Arcane. “It’s a hypothesis,” Viktor begins, his voice measured, though uncertainty flickers in his golden gaze. “I believe we may have lost our physical forms. We are one with the Arcane now—or at least, that’s my theory.” Jayce groans, dragging a hand down his face. “That doesn’t sound good. Can you think of a way to reverse this? You are the most familiar with the Arcane—there’s got to be something.” Viktor’s shoulders sag as he retrieves his cane, leaning on it for support. “I… don’t have an answer. Not yet.” He sighs, the frustration clear in his voice. “For now, let us—”

He freezes mid-sentence, his head snapping toward an unfamiliar sound: a voice. “Jayce, did you—” Viktor’s question is cut off as he hears it again. “Ekko! It’s Viktor’s handwriting!” His heart skips a beat. That voice—your voice. Viktor spins around, his hope surging, but all he sees is the endless void. His chest tightens with disappointment. “Up there,” Jayce says, nudging Viktor and pointing toward a faint opening in the dark, sky-like expanse. Both men look up to witness the moment you found the hidden lab. Your face shines through the darkness, illuminating the void with a fleeting glow as you sift through Viktor’s notes. “Is this… a memory?” Jayce asks, his brow furrowing. “No,” Viktor says, his eyes fixed on you. “It seems… recent.”

He takes in your features—the heavy bags under your eyes, the exhaustion etched into your expression. It’s clear you’ve been crying, and the sight tears at his heart. He feels an immense guilt for leaving you, even if it wasn't his choice. “So this is like… a window to the outside?” Jayce ventures, still staring up at the scene. Viktor’s eyes flick to the device in your hands, and his breath catches. “The Core,” he whispers. “It’s a modified Hexcore. I was developing it for another project.” His mind races. “That must be why we have this connection. Perhaps… perhaps we can use it to our advantage.”

“You mean we could use this rift to get out of here?” Jayce asks, his voice tinged with cautious optimism. “It’s… a leap,” Viktor admits, though a faint smile tugs at his lips. “But if anyone could achieve the impossible, it would be two of Piltover’s greatest scientists, no?” Jayce grins. “I missed this,” he says, gently clapping Viktor on the shoulder. “Having you back.” The moment is brief but heartfelt, as Jayce’s gaze returns to the rift. “So, how do we get up there? And didn’t you say we don’t have physical bodies anymore?”

“It was an educated guess,” Viktor replies with a faint smirk. “As for reaching the rift, we’ll worry about that once we find a way to get to it. For now, I suggest we explore this realm. There’s bound to be something here that can help.” Viktor tightens his grip on his cane, but his gaze lingers on the fading image of your face. Jayce notices. “Hey,” he says gently, stepping closer to his friend. “They’ll be fine. You heard them—they’re looking for Heimerdinger. If anyone can help us, it’s him.”

“I know,” Viktor replies, his voice heavy. “It’s just… I thought I’d rid myself of weakness. Of these emotions. I saw them as something useless….An obstacle I would have to overcome.” He pauses, his expression softening. “And yet, it feels like this… these feelings are the only thing keeping me going.” Jayce smiles knowingly. “As I told you, your flaws and feelings make you who you are. And you know they’d agree.” He looks back up at the darkness, where the vision of you has fully faded. “Let’s get back. So they can tell you themselves.” Together, Viktor and Jayce begin their journey through the endless void, their steps steady with a shared determination.

#viktor arcane #arcane #arcane s2 #arcane viktor #viktor x reader #viktor my beloved #viktor x you #viktor x y/n

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