#FUCKING MOLLY ROCK

[muckyschmuck]

you heard her, she doesnt want your snacks

[rockettequeen]

i just tried a cigarette for the first time

i’m putting it in my memory shoebox 🩶

[th3-c0ll3ct3r]

(to clarify I mean this from a writing perspective. Like I don't think the writers necessarily, originally intended for Stolas to be racist and when you break it down I think they were going for him being more classist but at face value he seems racist.

Put together, and at face value he's racist. Breaking it down and from a narrative point, it seems he was supposed to be classist. WHICH IS STILL A BAD not defending the man in that front

Genuinely don't think they intend for Stolas to be a completely racist person/didn't intend for old (season 1) Stolas to be racist, but when you look at it all put together he's definitely got SOME racist energy.

But they definitely doubled down in season 2 on "old Stolas was racist bc of the people he grew up with"

But I'm just breaking down why I DON'T THINK THEY ORIGINALLY WANTED IT TO BE THAT WAY and it wasn't really an error, it was more of a one-track mind approach)

Someone on twitter said that Stolas is racist

ALSO DON'T GO TRACKING THEM DOWN TF?!+

...

BUT HE'S NOT-

(from a writing perspective/break down perspective)

He has been conditioned into being classist. Stella's the racist one-

✨🧵AhEm🧵✨

When lil Stolas was meeting Blitzo for the first time, and he bows to him, paimon says something along the lines of "don't bow, he bows to us idiot" before smacking him over the head

Paimon implies ( and outright says) that he should bow to him because he's not worth it, because they're better then them. Richer. Power. Just "better"

However Stolas, continues to treat them like equals even when they're playing. He doesn't look down on Blitzo for being an Imp. But Stolas doesn't acknowledge that they have different lives because Stolas is rich.

He just assumes Blitzo could read, has a education and wants to learn but changes his tune when Blitzo awkwardly stares at him and suggest something else.

In the future right after the whole "omg you slept with someone" happens to Stella.

Stella says "You slept with an Imp in our fucking bed!" now today isn't a discussion of how much of a narcissistic bitch Stella is so we'll leave it out there to chill

BUT Stella says you slept with an Imp. Not a person. But an Imp. STELLA IS THE RACIST ONE BECAUSE SHE ONLY SEES HIM AS AN IMP AND NOT AN ACTUALLY PERSON

(and if you don't see it, imagine saying "I can't believe you slept with a person of colour!" that's basically what Stella said)

Stolas doesn't even acknowledge it, saying he didn't have enough time to get a Motel. Stolas doesn't say anything about Blitzo being "just an Imp" he just talks like he's sleeping with anyone.

You could literally change Blitzo name for anyone else and I'd still work.

But here's the thing, Blitzo is one that see Stolas as a bit of a racist because he thinks Stolas was the one who bought him for a day or so.

Like he thinks Stolas bought him. But it wasn't Stolas. It was Paimon, he bought him so that he won't have to deal with Stolas being upset. Stolas didn't even have a choice in the matter so it wasn't his fault.

But here's how he's UNINTENTIONALLY classist.

AhEm

Literally the entire relationship and dynamics-

Stolas technically bought the IMP services TWICE, once in the trailer/pilot and another in the Loo-Loo Land episode.

Stolas rented Blitzo team out for the day, because Stolas was paying him to do so. He practically bought Blitzo's time.

He looked down on Millie and Moxxie because he really only intented to buy out Blitzo time and not there's. He didn't need protection as we can see at the episodes end, he just bought Blitzo's time for entertainment. FOR ENTERTAINMENT

Stolas initially thought that he was entitled to Blitzo's time because he bought out THE WHOLE BUSINESS SERVICE FOR ONE DAY.

And at the beginning of the Stolas literally says "We're rich and we're hot, people want our money and our bodies" HE'S IMPLIES THAT HE'S SUPERIOR TO EVERYONE ELSE NOT BECAUSE THEY'RE IMPS OR HELL-BORN DEMONS

IT'S BECAUSE THEY'RE RICH! AND HE ACKNOWLEDGE THAT!

And then he tells Blitzo that he'll pay him for his time- HE'S LITERALLY THROWING MONEY AT HIS PROBLEMS HOPING IT'LL BE OKAY BECAUSE THAT WHAT HIS DAD DID!

And in the Harvest Moon episode Blitzo defends Stolas because Stolas is literally the secondary breadwinner with in his business. If Stolas dies then Octiva gets the book and then Blitzo doesn't have it, so they can't make money anymore.

Stolas again is in someway shovelling money to stay in someone's life, taking advantage of the fact that Blitzo NEEDS HIM.

But in the episode Truth Speaker, that's when Stolas changes his mindset (all be it, off screen) he realizes when Blitzo is endangered but he can't just throw money at problems and actually has to do something to keep him safe.

This is the first time that he is not thrown money at a problem and it worked.

Moving on in the story Stolas has some on screen and off screen character development, in which the power dynamics and throwing money as every single problem isn't right anymore and it was never right.

Because before then he'd been practically throwing money in the face a not-so-successful-at-the-time Blitzo just for his company.

That was some level of autonomy in that relationship but it was mostly him just throwing money and buying him out and buying his time.

It Highlights the absolute wealth difference between the two characters.

Before the episode Truth Seeker, Stolas was indeed a classist character it may have not been as obvious as some other characters but he was a bit classist at the least.

Before the episode Truth Seekers, Stolas saw Blitzo as somewhat below him, because he could just afford to buy him out. But after realising that he was indeed a person and could be hurt, I believe after that episode is when he actually begun to care.

Ozzie's was the eventual big push for him to get better. It was obvious that Stolas WAS embarrassed to be with Blitzo. And not because he was an Imp like Ozzie implied because Stolas could have just clapped back with "AND TF ABT U BITCH?? HUH?"

No, it's because Ozzie made the Association that since he was with an Imp, then that equals poor, which equals embarrassment, which equates to him asking why did you throw away your marriage for someone who is poor?

Because I don't think Ozzie would have been racist, on stage, infront of other Imps and his Imp boyfriend.

After this episode we can see that he has a change of heart and a change in which he views things. After this episode he realizes that Blitzo's feelings could no longer be bought because he'd made him genuinely upset and there was no amount of money you could throw on that 🔥dumpster fire 🔥to make it okay

By that point the business was already successful so it was no longer a matter of money.

After this Stolas has some off screen development it seems. Better himself as a person and truly beginning to see equals but as a consequence he had to acknowledge over pain and the sheer power he had in the relationship.

That's when in the episode Oops, Stolas decides to get Big Boss Ozzie-mozzie Crystal to try and end this constant power dynamic and classism that was in their relationship.

I'm in the episode we can Stolas helping out his "equal" when it came down to Fizz. He didn't just turn around and go "well he's an Imp, icky not helping him. I'll come back later"

He sat there through the entire thing helping Ozzie out, not out of obligation. He literally could have left but didn't because he didn't see Fizz as Ozzie's problem, he now saw Fizz as a genuine person.

And the set up to this was great because Ozzie would have had to sign away alot of money to get Fizz out of trouble, and its a nod back at when old him would have probably just threw money at this problem but instead of that he advises his "equal" to NOT throw money at the problem and instead read the entire contract to make sure that everything goes well.

LIKE OLD STOLAS WOULD NOT HAVE CARED ENOUGH TO READ THAT ENTIRE THING, AS MUCH AS HE LOVES WORDS

this act alone not only let Fizz and Blitzo work shit out but also showed the viewer that he had changed for the better, and he was going through character development to not be a dick

And now we're at Full Moon and at this rate Stolas has already had all the necessary character development off-screen to no longer be as classist as he was before, and it's a bit disappointed that this was in highlighted a bit before but you gotta read through the line sometimes

Stolas now sees them as equals. But he hadn't shown Blitzo that. Blitzo is still scared of Stolas and his influence and status and money, last Blitzo check he'd had to spend time looking for Stolas daughter so that he won't be as mad and he won't banned him from the book.

An honestly if he had it his way Blitzo probably never would have went to the human realm to help look for his daughter.

But at that rate it was out of sheer obligation-

And as much as the episode tries to play it off as a gag, Blitzo still has to drop everything to help him out, YES because he does care but also out of fear of losing his only source of income.

So for Stolas to rock up in Full Moon and be like, "I see you as an equal and I love you" WOULD HAVE FUCKED BLITZO SHIT UP

Because all Stolas and his family did was, BUY HIM, BUY HIS TIME AND MAKE HIM FEAR FOR LOSING HIS ONLY SOURCE OF INCOME ON MULTIPLE OCCASIONS-

He'd only been inadvertently put down by Stolas not because that was Stolas intention but because that's what is actions gave off in terms of vibes.

And that's why in the Helluva universe Stolas is unintentionally a classist character, to which he didn't know about it UNTIL IT WAS TOO FUCKING LATE-

No I will not be taking question. Yes this took me 30 minutes to write because of my inability to spell. Shush!

[ee-where-they-shouldnt-be]

The spelling bee getting rocks through at them

found every sprite i could use for throwing without edits (minus Howie's because even as much as i hate this bee, Howie would never harm a bee)

[dailykugisaki]

Day 343 | id in alt

She was gonna slack off with you but like...again that's not how you start a conversation Maki. Not with her anymore LMAO.

[evillillad]

happy friday the 13th everynyan!!! reminder that im out here and youll never see me coming :o)

[princeofcyberpunk]

genuinely kind of shocked by this but perhaps most of the userbase just listens to pop or something

edit: the top artists say a LOT lmao

i love how its all like. my favorite bands and then just. Takeharu Ishimoto the composer of the TWEWY and NEO: TWEWY OSTs lol

Check here

On that post that's going around everyone seems to have really high numbers so I want to see what the spread is really like

[musicrunsthroughmysoul]

Happy birthday to Molly Sides of Thunderpussy! (b. August 18)

[headroom-moods]

The duality of 1987 for some kind of wonderful and Maurice to be released in the exact same year

[mollyrolls]

youre on my watchlist ree

WHITE DENIM OVERALLS — a suna rintarou x reader SMAU

m.list

tags, cws grief & loss, found family, angst, possibly ooc, language

synopsis : you stopped believing in love the day your dad passed—leaving you to pay the debt left off from building his dream bakery. when your long term boyfriend breaks off a three year long relationship via text, you wonder if you have any more life left to live. heaven sends you a surprise ◡̈

© ZUMICHO 2024 all rights reserved. do not repost, edit, or translate my works on any platform.

────────────────────────

profiles

prologue: tiny suburban bakery

001: iced lemon loaves / self deprecating humor

002: venn diagram

003: monsters under the bed

004: softness vs. survival

005: not waiting for you anymore

006: building the same house

007: blue door deja vu

epilogue: somewhere between

status : completed 🍞

extras ness’ extras ness’ recs + overview

────────────────────────

[urhoneycombwitch]

foreword: have u ever had a buddy so good you jack off with him <3 roommate!Eddie x reader fic for ya. link to roommate!Eddie mlist here

cw: drug mention, R wears a bra, has breasts (implied to be large enough to “spill”) + V, no pronouns used only petnames, nipple play, R is queer (talks about Molly Ringwald in a sexual nature <3), praise kink, mutual masturbation, but as friends, we’re all normal here okay, we Do Not talk about our hidden feelings in this one soz

wc: 2.3k

___

An unfortunate shift of the pillows supporting your body pulls you from the depths of sleep, consciousness surfacing, breaching with a soft huffy groan. 

Waking up on a normal day is hard enough. Waking from a good dream, one where someone’s head was between your legs and everything was swelling lush with heat? Now that’s torture. 

You burrow the cold side of your face under the covers, eyes still screwed shut in defiance of being awoken before the dream could pay off. There’s a heartbeat pounding near the apex of your thighs; with one leg stretched out and the other draped around the curve of your body pillow, your hips roll forward automatically, seeking friction.

The soaked front of your underwear drags against the pillow’s seam, catching your clit on the next glide of your hips. Another soft moan, breath fanning from your parted lips. If you can stay in this grey area of sleep and waking, maybe the horniness will swallow your mind back to the dream…

When someone’s hand brushes your bare shoulder, your movements freeze. Goosebumps prickling in the palm-owner’s wake, you blink against the morning light pouring in through your bedroom window and try to orient yourself.

Your head is nestled in the curve of someone’s neck, left arm tucked secure around their chest. Leg hitched over their waist, cotton boxers band digging at the plush of your thigh- something else solid and warm trapped against their stomach.

A snuffle from your human body pillow, and the waking world hits you sideways, all at once- Eddie. You’d fallen asleep with Eddie last night, after helping him play-test a new hybrid strain and dancing to records all evening, until you both collapsed in a heap of giggles. In your bed. 

Which means that you’ve been humping Eddie’s leg in your sleep. And the thick length trapped under your thigh belongs to him, too. 

Before you can even fully process or think up an escape plan holding the least amount of embarrassment for you both, Eddie’s stretching the arm that isn’t cupping your shoulder up and out with a long yawn. 

His hips shift, pressing himself into your leg unintentionally, and you can feel the moan that rumbles through his body- at your ear, vibrating under your hand on his bare chest. Eddie mumbles something incoherent and sleep-addled, pulling you in closer, nosing at the crown of your head.

“Uh-” your voice comes out half-squeak, half-croak, not fully pushing off Eddie but keeping your frame tight enough to roll away at a moment’s notice. “H-hey.”

Eddie’s palm smooths down the plane of your upper back, stopping at the wide band of your bra. He makes another noise, this time a bit less sleepy- and then he, too, freezes, all those points of contact along the length of your own body stiffening, muscles tensed with realization. 

“Oh, fuck. Shit.”

Eddie’s voice is like rocks on pavement, three shades of gravelly, really not helping your whole ‘wet as a river’ situation, one that he can probably feel leaking onto his bare leg at this point. He doesn’t immediately roll away, though; he remains in that freeze-mode, tense and poised, holding you against the span of his side still.

Well. As frozen as one can be with a throbbing case of morning wood.

“I guess we… fell asleep,” you say, carefully, adopting the same cat-like stillness, the pause before a big leap. “Sorry-”

“You’re sorry? I’m sorry. Jesus.” Eddie uses the hand that’s not cradling your shoulder to scrub down his face. This close, nestled into his neck, you can feel his loose hair tickling your cheek, the light scratch of his day-old stubble against your forehead when he speaks. “I’m gonna… go take care of this. And then maybe. Breakfast? Christ. Can’t think. All my blood’s elsewhere right now.”

You breathe a chuckle. His arm is still wrapped around you. 

“Yeah. Okay. Or you could just- take care of it. Here, I mean. With me.”

Eddie’s breath stops, actually stops, then stutters back into steady rhythm under your hand. “...yeah?”

He sounds unsure but curious, excitement bleeding into the edges of that one word as your thumb sweeps across the spot where his ribcage meets. “Yeah. Be doing me a favor, too- I was kind of in the middle of a… a good dream. Prob’ly me that woke you up, anyways.”

Eddie’s hand drops from your shoulder, slithers back to his own space, disrupting your head rest briefly- until you realize he’s doing it to make enough room for you both to stretch out flat (on your mattress that was barely designed for one full-grown person). 

“A good dream,” Eddie parrots, as you both re-situate under the thin cover of your floral-patterned top sheet. Shoulder to shoulder, skimming the heat from each other’s bare skin as you stare resolutely at the ceiling, there’s a frizzy mass of black hair in your periphery. A hint of a smile in Eddie’s voice as he asks, “What were you dreamin’ about?”

You can feel the rippling shift of his bicep as his arm moves, hand sliding unseen beneath the sheets- a sharp inhale as his hand finds purchase over the bulge in his boxers. 

In response, your own hand follows the contoured path to the spot below your navel, toying with the band of your panties before slipping underneath. Cupping yourself, feeling the heated slick coat your fingers before dragging it back up to rest your middle against the beating pulse of your clit- “Ah- um. Was dreamin’ about. Uh. Molly Ringwald.”

A few days from your latest John Hughes marathon, it’s the first feasible famous person that comes to mind. Luckily, Eddie just laughs, in a stilted gasp when his fist finds his aching cock- “Oh, fuck- yeah? Redheads do it for you these days?”

“Uh huh.” Maybe if you keep the focus on someone else, you’ll both be able to come out of this event unscathed. Walk away with your hands clean- er. Well. Nope. 

A better analogy is gonna have to wait, because your abdomen’s tightening with each pass of your wet finger over your clit, pleasure licking and sparking, the usual slow-build to orgasm forming with shocking rapidity.

“What was she doing?” Eddie, sounding strained and strung-out already (really makes you wonder how long you’d actually been using each other, in sleep, grinding and working the other person up), hand moving in long strokes- “In your dream, I mean. Licking you out? Did she use fingers?”

It’s not like you haven’t heard Eddie’s dirty talk before- in fact, you helped cultivate it, years ago when he was nervous for a third date and wanted some advice. You’ve coached him on sex techniques, he’s given his own expertise, you’ve both appraised the other's nudes, for christ’s sake- this is just a natural extension of your friendship. Your closeness. 

Eddie’s feeling awfully close, now, his arm bumping against yours with each pass of his fist over his dick, your leg periodically grazing the downy hair of his shin as your hips jolt upwards, into the electricity stemming from the pad of your finger. 

Choking on your words around a bright surge of pleasure- “Y- yeah. Her mouth. Fingers. All of it.”

“Fuck.” Eddie’s form lurches, doing a half-crunch forwards- risking a glance, you catch a glimpse of the sweat beading at his temples, the dark slant of his brow in concentration, jaw working through the grit of his teeth- “Why don’t you use some fingers, then.”

Like he’s got you under some sort of command spell (because you’re not touching the alternatives with a ten-foot pole), you obey, middle and ring fingers curling into the tight channel of your cunt. There’s a spot you hit on your front wall, gummy and responsive, muscles reacting on instinct by contracting and spasming around your fingers.

You’re close already, panting, head tipped back against the bottom sheet, neck bared, eyes squeezing shut at the wave of pleasure that begins to pulse insistently. “I’m- fuck, Eddie. Keep talking, please-”

“So good,” Eddie says, almost funny in how quick he is to interrupt your pleading. “So good for me. Sound so wet, too, bet you’re soaking…”

You are, in fact, rivulets of slick joining into one just under the globes of your ass, cooling and sticky, a bit uncomfortable but since it’s laundry day and you feel this good you can’t really bring yourself to care.

A half-gasp whimper as you writhe your pelvis up, again, chasing that edge, tantalizingly close, the wet noises from your weeping cunt and plunging fingers spurring Eddie on.

“That’s it, baby.” He’s encouraging even in his own heady fog of pleasure (must’ve had a good sex-talk coach), voice low and rough at your ear as he drops his chin to get closer. “Tell me what you need, hm? Lemme get you there.”

“Need you- you, to…” Frustrated by your lack of breath, in lieu of communicating with words you slide your fingers from yourself, seeking Eddie’s hand before you can overthink the action. You leave a trail of slick against his hip bone, and Eddie releases himself to give you his hand- moaning, cock twitching, as you coat your own heated wetness over his dry palm. 

This time, when you both get your hands back on yourselves, it’s with a tandem whine, Eddie’s ending with a hiss through teeth- “Fuck. Fuck, yes. So wet. So good.”

“Yeah?” Like you never left, your pussy molds easily to the shape of your three fingers again. Your other hand leaves your side to paw at your clothed breast, nipples peaking through the lace. “I gotta- I’m gonna take my bra off. Please.”

You don’t actually wait for permission, but Eddie gives it anyways as you slide the cups down, babbling encouragement- “Shit, sweetheart, yeah. Whatever you gotta do. So good for me, tellin’ me what you need. Good job.”

One day, you’re gonna regret telling Eddie you get off on praise, but not today; with one nipple pinched firmly between thumb and forefinger, your other breast spills to the side, resting against Eddie’s upper arm.

He groans, from his toes, fist slipping over his cock with ease thanks to your contribution. The sounds filling your small room are obscene, sex-dipped moans and glossy wet hand movements all reaching a crescendo as both your hips jerk up at the same time.

Keeping the same pace against your clit as Eddie’s keeping on his dick, the spark of pleasure has turned into a roar that swims up to your ears, a white-out of an orgasm fast approaching each time the heel of your palm slams into your clit. 

“Eddie- jesus, Eddie- Eddie Eddie Eddie-”

You’d feel sheepish about how desperate you sound if Eddie wasn’t matching your energy two-fold. His lanky frame thrashes when your speech devolves into a repetition of his name, keening as his fist staves off tipping over the edge with a tight ring at the base of his cock- “That’s it, baby, y’can do it, angel. Come on. Come with me. Please, please-”

With a final cruel twist to your breast, you come undone, orgasm spooling heat throughout your whole system, Eddie’s name unraveling in a long cry. Eddie follows you, fucking up into his fist, ropes of cum shooting to the top of the sheets tent he’d made, hunching against the spasms crawling up his abdomen. 

You ride the last of your orgasm out on the stretch of three fingers, releasing your nipple when the pressure turns to a twinge of pain. Under the covers, your bare chest heaves around the stretched elastic band of your shoved-down bra; with shaky, uncoordinated hands, you reach behind and beneath yourself to undo the hooks, flinging the offending clothing in the general direction of your hamper.

Eddie chuckles, breathless, bellows of his ribs nudging your forearm as he sinks back into his (your) pillow. “Christ. Good thing it’s laundry day.”

There’s no room for shame, no ounce of you that wants to dwell on what this could mean, right now- although there’ll be plenty of time for that later. As it stands, you’re both swathed in a quiet, post-sex bliss, neither wanting to disturb the peace. 

In a dreamy haze, you take note of little things- the drag of Eddie’s pinky against the back of your hand. The glint of his rings stored in a neat line atop your nearby dresser. A block of mid-morning sunshine from the window cast over the bed, prickling at your legs with warmth.

After a few minutes of this, Eddie sits up, mumbling apologies when you snatch the sheets to keep yourself covered. “You want first shower?”

He looks at you over his shoulder, down the lovely arc of his nose, brown eyes tender and staying on you for a beat too long. Squirming under his gaze, you find anywhere else to look (other than the pale slope of his back, smattered and dotted with freckles), shaking your head. “Nope. All yours.”

You flick your interest back to the ceiling as Eddie pulls up his boxers, grimacing at the mess he’s made of your sheets; before leaving, he bends to scoop up your tossed bra, snapping his own underwear to emphasize- “I’ll start this load before showering, then I’ll come back for your bedding.”

At your nod, Eddie leaves to clank around in the laundry closet; then there’s a rusty squeak of the shower handle, a subsequent rush of water, and Eddie’s pleasant husky humming floats down the hall through the open doors. 

You roll onto your front with a contented sigh, burying your nose in the pillow Eddie was just lying on- it smells like him, now, smoky and spicy and familiar. 

You spend the rest of his shower time coming up with a good excuse to save this pillowcase from being washed.

[ellieslittlewh0re]

ִ ⋆｡ °✩ ❝ 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐄 𝐋♡𝐕𝐄 ❞ ✩°｡⋆

(𝒘𝒌) 5k

〚𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒〛 ✰ rockerstar! ellie x groupie! reader ✰

〚𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒〛 ellie williams. her name was everywhere- the underground music’s next breakout star, and for a good reason too- a honeyed voice mixed with gravel, her passion, energy, the fact she was everything rock and roll should be. also, let’s not forget the sex appeal.

〚𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒〛 sex, love, drugs, and rock and roll. !!TW!! for descriptions of drug usage ( c0cain, L$D) fingering (r! receiving), oral (r! receiving), strap on usage (r! receiving) overstim kinda, dom e!, sub r!

It started with a video- a grainy, shity quality one at that, but still a video. She was center stage of some grungy bar from the looks of it, spotlights illuminating her face enough to see stands of her hair sticking to her forehead with sweat, and a chipped cherry red electric guitar hanging from her shoulder. She was magnetic, hypnotizing- not just with her performance, but her looks as well.

From that day on, you just had the desire to get closer to her in any way you could.

-

It had been two months since you started following her band while they toured across the West Coast. You had been to every show, seen every performance, and Ellie was starting to catch on.

The first time she saw you, you immediately caught Ellie's attention- I mean, how could you not? You were by far the hottest girl in the venue that night, swinging your hips so effortlessly it put the rest of the girls to shame. Ellie remembers that night vividly because she was so pissed she couldn't find you after the show to bring you back to her shitty motel room and have her way with you. But Ellie quickly forgot about you when the company of two other girls took your place that night, along with a few too many hits of whatever her drug of choice was during that time.

So, that's how you ended up here- at a run down gas station bathroom touching up your makeup in the middle of the fucking desert, and a van full of strangers that you were currently hitching a ride with waiting outside at the pumps.

And Ellie? Well, Ellie was doing what she always does before a show- drugs, and lots of them, whether it was molly, coke, weed, tabs, or maybe even a deadly concoction of all the above, she didn't care as long as it made her feel alive- claiming it made her perform better or something, but really she just liked being fucked up while fucking girls after the show.

While Ellie was living this "glamorous" rockstar lifestyle, you were on the complete opposite end- quitting your day job to follow some girl around who doesn't even know your name and catching rides from people who definitely look like they have seen the inside of a prison cell- AKA, you were a groupie.

The air was hot, stale. A thin layer of orangy, rust-colored sand coated the windows and the van's gaudy upholstery. The landscape outside flashed like an old fashioned reel movie, cacti, shrubs, Joshua trees, and repeat.

It was desolate, and if the road and occasional mile marker wasn't there to remind you, you would've thought you were on a different planet.

"Your stop is next, daisy." The man with a handle bar mustache yelled from the drivers seat, meeting your eyes in the review mirror.

Daisy. A nickname given to you by the group when they first picked you up further up north. You had a daisy tucked behind your ear, and from then on, you were daisy.

-

It was dark by the time you arrived at the venue, venue isn't really how you would describe it. It was more like a diner turned bar turned into whatever the fuck it was currently. You waved your goodbyes to the the group of not-so-strange strangers, all of them bidding you 'farewells' and 'good lucks' before you watched the red tails fade into the pitch dark of the desert.

For once, you were early. Turns out a bunch of traveling hippies and outcasts aren't on a timed schedule, who knew?

Even though you were early, the dirt patch of a parking lot was packed, cars in various stages of deterioration lining the sides of the building, and people gathering outside to avoid the cramped interior. But you weren't here to socialize or drink and get high- you just wanted to see her, dance to the strum of her guitar, and let her voice consume and overtake you.

It was 40-ish minutes past midnight, meaning Ellie and her band were late, but that's not a surprise. She had a bad habit of keeping the people waiting, but she was a busy girl- hanging out backstage or at a hotel, a room full of girls for her to pick from, and no shortage of drugs and alcohol. But tonight, she went a little too overboard. Her band mates were practically carrying her across the motel parking lot to their van, trying to get her to sober up on the way to the venue with water and motivational speeches that mostly consisted of "get your fucking shit together".

The short 30 minute drive to the venue was barely long enough to get Ellie back in the right state of mind. She was slightly unsteady on her feet, and her speech was a little slurred, but she's used to preforming under these conditions.

You waited patiently of course, babying a strong cocktail mix since you didn't dare get drunk and risk not remembering every detail of the night- every detail of her.

When the crowd shifted their attention to the back entrance of the building, silent murmurs at first before a load cheer erupting was when you knew, she was here, and she looked like heaven- a black tank top that was torn near the neckline, a studded belt loosely securing a pair of baggy, black patchwork cargo pants.

The crowd parted a pathway for her as she made her way through the room with her bandmates following behind, a cigarette tucked between her lips as she'd occasionally stop to sign whatever was thrown at her- a piece of paper, cash, a pair of tits- which she'd always happily comply, but if she saw a girl she liked, she would lick her pointer finger and index, smearing part of her signature on their cleavage while the marker was still wet to subtly let you know that she wanted your company for the night- at least, that's the rumor you've heard.

You found yourself holding your breath- she was so close, a mere body or two keeping you at arm's length from her. You could smell the cigarette smoke, and see the details of her chipped black nail polish holding the marker between her fingers.

Ellie hands the notebook and marker back into the wave of hands, looking up while blowing out a cloud of smoke, and that's when she sees you. She was about to walk off, but she stopped for a second. You don't look like you belong- you were different, sweet, and innocent-looking compared to the rest of the audience. But she doesn't let her eyes linger long, she has a show to put on after all.

She turned, and walked towards the stage stairs, and centered herself behind the mic. She shifted her weight on her feet, and took one last drag of the cigarette before suffocating the embers on a ashtray near the edge of the stage.

"How's everyone doing tonight?" She barely could make out before the crowds hollering drowned out her voice. She laughed into the mic while plugging a cord into her guitar that was connected to a beefy looking amp.

Her ego was at its biggest right now- just her mere appearance could make a group of strangers act like dogs, and she fucking loved it.

She played a few cords on the guitar, ensuring the tune was where she wanted it before looking back up into the crowd, "c'mon, you can do better than that." And even though her mouth was covered by the mic, you could tell she was smirking.

The crowd cheered louder, fists clenched high above the sea of heads, and chanted her name over and over exactly how she wanted them to.

And for you? Well, you were also chanting her name, maybe not as loud, but you were too busy squeezing your way through to get to the front.

She needed to be able to see you.

And she did see you- you were front row, playfully singing and dancing along, your bright, twinkling eyes boring into every little thing she did- from the way she'd run her hand through the front of her hairline, ridding her face of the baby hairs and bangs, down to the way her fingers curled over the frets of her guitar. She made sure to look elsewhere into the crowd, interacting with everyone, but her eyes always found themselves back on you.

-

Ellie closed out the show with an encore, most of the crowd was overly intoxicated at this point, stumbling, and starting meaningless fights with whoever was closest- aka the usual time you'd leave, but you couldn't, at least, not when Ellie was walking towards you, her eyes set on you. You glanced to your right then your left- confused, and definitely was searching for an explanation as to why she was getting closer. Surely, it was someone else who caught her attention, but it was only you nearby.

You take a step back from the stage as the tips of her dirty converse near the edge. She bends down at the knees before sitting all together, dangling her legs over the edge. She doesn't say anything, and you didn't either, maybe from intimidation mixed with confusion as to why she chose to sit here out of all places.

She reaches her tattooed arm behind, shifting her weight to pull out a pack of cigarettes, and offering the carton to you, but you shyly decline. She smirked, a dimple deepening on the one side of her cheek, "So-" She said, her voice momentarily muffled by the cigarette between her lips, "-you don't look like you're from here, where'd you come from, baby?" She ignited the end with a metal lighter, holding a free hand up to cover the flame which only amplified the warm glow of the flame on her face.

You chuckled a nervous laugh, looking down at your fingers as she blew out a puff of smoke, "M' not. I'm from up north. " Your voice trembled, leaking with submission and uncertainty which only fascinated her more, but also she was frustrated- most girls wouldn't need a conversation to know what Ellie wanted from them, and you weren't looking at her.

She grabs your hand, and pulls you closer to the space between her knees. A sharp breath gets caught in your throat as she does this, your cheeks hot, and your gut feels like it's jumping being this close to her- enough to smell the fumes of her cologne mixed with ash. You watch her fingers come up and hover over your chest, her fingers gently dancing along the skin of your clavicle to examine the charm of your necklace, but really it was just a flirtation tactic to her.

"What's a girl like you doing in the desert in the middle of the night, huh?" She asked, dropping her voice down to an almost whisper- raspy, and thick with suggestion. You shake your head side to side, a nervous tick of yours when you felt uncomfortable, but being uncomfortable isn't always a bad thing.

"I uh-" you paused, mentally wavering if you should tell the truth since it does seem a little pathetic. "-I wanted to see you play."

Ellie's eyebrows raise, her bottom lip puckering into a frown with a slight nod. "Is that so?" She hummed, rolling the edges of the charm between her fingers. Ellie was certain she had seen you before. It wasn't a trick of the light or getting your face confused with some other hot chick- you were unmistakable. But she didn't want you to know that she found you out, not yet, not now.

Ellie learned in further, your knees almost buckling out from under you, feeling her breath against your lips. She played it off like she was getting a closer look at your necklace, extending the religious symbolic charm out so the chain tugged on your neck. "Do you believe?" She asked, still looking at the damn necklace, furrowing her brows like she was in a deep philosophical thought.

You swallowed dryly, wishing you still had your drink from easier, "N-not really-" you stuttered, "it was a gift from when I was younger."

Ellie chuckled, but it wasn't lighthearted or sweet- it was dark, methodical, and a tad bit sadistic.

She released the charm from her fingers, letting it hit your bare chest with a muted thud before looking up. Her eyes were a darker shade than you remembered them being- irises blown out and framed beautifully by a thick band of dark eyelashes.

Her hand reached out and gently grabbed you by the wrist before yanking you closer so your tummy was flush with the side of the stage, leaving only a few inches between your tits and the denim of her crotch.

You inhaled a sharp, breathy yelp as she did this, your hands not knowing what to do or where to divert your eyes- her hands on you, her face so close to yours that you could count the freckles on her cheeks, even the ones that are faint enough to miss- or maybe how her thighs were drifting apart, and you were in between them.

Her hand comes up, which causes you to squeeze your eyes shut, but the wrinkles around your eyes relax as you feel her hand on your face and her lips on yours. You moaned instantly at the contact, resting your hand on her thigh where it felt most comfortable. Ellie took this opportunity to slip her tongue inside, using the muscle to work against yours. Her hand snakes down your side, squeezing the soft flesh of your hip before pulling away, leaving you breathless, and hazy.

Her eyes were intense looking into yours, her lips wet and craving a deeper satisfaction.

She only said one thing, a simple sentence that would separate you from being just some regular fan,

"Come with me tonight, and I'll show you something worth believing."

-

So that's how your night shifted- how one decision to follow some band across the state had finally paid off because now you were here- a hotel room, alone with the band's most valuable member snorting lines of a white powdery substance off of a mirror topped end table.

Ellie held the rolled 20 between her fingers, putting the end of it to her nose while the index on her other closed the opposing nostril shut. She dragged the end of the cylinder across the smuggled surface, inhaling deeply until the white line disappeared behind it.

"Fuuck-" She sighed, throwing her head back, and swipes the bottom of her nose with her thumb,

"Here-" She held out the rolled 20 for you to take, but you lean away,

"I don't do that stuff."

She looks at you curiously, a furrow between her brows that suggests she found your refusal even more entertaining.

Ellie leaned forward and turned her body to face you on the edge of the dusty duvet, "What-" She scoffed, "'think you're too good for it?"

You shook your head violently, indicating a 'no', "No- no, that's not what I meant-"

Ellie laughed, causing you to stop mid-sentence, "I'm just fucking with you, doll. I should've known." She smiles, and you return the smile in relief that you didn't actually offend her.

Your eyes divert to the wallpapered walls- a faint pattern of stripes with cream-colored baseboards, a warm yellowed lamp on the bedside being the only source of light in the room to contrast the night outside.

You felt her hand creep up your thigh, tempting the skin below the hem of your dress before it disappeared underneath the fabric altogether. She leaned in, her other hand on your face to encourage you closer, whispering a "so soft" in a raspy breath before connecting your lips with hers.

It started slow- her lips overlapping yours like a soft current on a still morning before it turned into a ranging one during a windy cast. You moaned into her- soft and delicate mews between each detachment, and it fueled her.

Ellie's body overpowered yours, using her strength to her advantage. But it's not like she needed it- you were putty in her hands, fully committing yourself to her, letting her push you into your back, and her body hovering on top of yours.

You squirmed beneath her- each bump, and drag of her knee between your legs left you feeling more desperate.

"Ellie-" you broke the kiss in a breathless euphoria, looking up at her with a needy expression. Ellie knew that face well- it's not like she had all this experience and didn't know what to do with it, so- she got up, leaving you alone on the bed, and walked over to a black duffle bag decorated with pins of miscellaneous logos and bands.

She riffled through it, pulling a small clear plastic bag out before joining you back on the bed.

She opened the baggie, pulling something out no bigger than the size of a postage stamp, and tearing it into smaller halves before looking up,

"Do you trust me?" She asked, her green eyes piercing into yours, causing a wet sensation to spill from the heat between your legs. You swallowed, not really sure what you were agreeing to, but you nodded anyway, "Yes, Ellie... I trust you."

She placed the colorfully decorated paper on her tongue and held the sides of your face, kissing you and slipping her tongue inside, transferring whatever it was into your mouth before pulling away. "Swallow." She demanded, tilting your face up by your chin, and you did it without hesitation- straining the walls of your throat as the mystery stamp slid downwards.

She smirked, and swiped her thumb over your bottom lip, "good girl."

She followed it up by doing the same, placing the tab on her tongue and swallowing, but she made it seem so much more intentional like a ritual of some sorts.

Ellie leaned away from you in the bed to rest her back against the headboard and pillows, "C'mere" she said nonchalantly, patting her thighs.

With shaky knees, you did as you were told and crawled your way up her legs until you were straddling her waist.

Her hands come up to rest on your hips, her thumbs tracing circles through the flimsy fabric of your dress, "so obedient" she said lightly, almost under her breath to herself and not at you directly. 

Her hands started to wander- first on your hips, then down to your thighs, gliding them up to the plush beneath your skirt. You felt her fingertip squeeze and caress, sending chills up your spine and a hot/cold sensation throughout your body.

Next, her lips were on yours, and her fingers were tightening the follicles on the back of your scalp as the kisses became more intense. Your back instinctively arches, and you reach a hand between your legs to soothe the ache, but she stops you with a firm grip on your wrist, "Gettin' impatient, huh?" She said in a cocky tone, smirking against your lips. You whimpered- nodding your head, and grabbed her hand, inching it closer to your core.

Ellie chucked at this- the kind of chuckle that was half way a scoff, and half way felt like an insult.

"Damn- you need me to fill you up that bad? 'thought you were one of them good girls."

She tisked her tongue against her teeth, but still let you guid her hand where you needed her.

The back of her knuckles grazed between the pillowy folds over your panties, going agonizingly slow before turning her hand over to fully palm your cunt.

You melt on top of her, resting your head against her shoulder, all the while dragging your hips against her hand.

She turns her head, her warm breath fanning against the helix of your ear, "You're so wet and I've barely touched you."

Her words echoed throughout your brain like her voice waves were sending signals to every part of your body. And her touch was magnified- each cell, fiber, and pore was experiencing a new sense of heightened, whether it be because of the drugs or not, you couldn't be sure.

"El-Ellie, please... need you."

Your words rang a siren song to Ellie's ears, creating a sticky pool between her own legs. She muttered a guttural "fuck" before she grabs you by the sides of your thighs, flipping you over so she was on top of you.

She was already yanking down your underwear, and tossing them to the side before you could comprehend what was happening. You felt her fingers stinging to the flesh of your thighs, prying them apart like she couldn't wait to see you, to taste you.

You sucked in a sharp breath as her tongue lightly traced a line down your folds before her lips met your clit where she pulsated the bud between her lips, letting out a moan as she made contact, "fuuck-" She curses before flicking her tongue over your bundle of nerves, igniting a colorful array of shapes behind your tightly closed eyes.

She was messy but precise- using her tongue along with the motion of her head to send you that much further. Your fingers tangled in her hair, tugging harder the closer you got which was the perfect time in Ellie's eyes to add a finger.

She slowly pushed her middle finger inside, stopping halfway at her knuckle to let you adjust before slamming it all the way till her knuckles were snug against your puffy lips.

You wriggled beneath her, reaching out to push her away with a palm to her shoulder, but that only makes her add a second finger.

You cry out loudly through heavy breaths, the veins on her forearm coming to the surface of her skin from how much force she was using, and her mouth putting in just as much work.

You were climbing higher and higher, the peripheral of your vision going white-

"Ellie... I'm- I'm gonna-" You don't have much time to warn her before your body starts to spaz, starting at your hips and up into your chest like volts of electricity through a highly active current.

Your knees close around her head, your back arching high off the mattress, and your eyes rolling into the back of your head. She slows her pace as you come down before pulling her fingers out and lifting her head.

With your eyes closed, and an arm draped over your face, you feel her pat the inside of your thigh before her weight leaves the bed.

She comes back a couple of minutes later, only opening your eyes when you feel her weight return to the mattress.

Your eyes go wide as you take notice of the new attachment- a black, strappy harness with buckles near her hips, and a crude shaped silicone cock bulging at her crotch.

She lowers herself over you, her hands on each side of your head before she leans down to kiss you, slipping her tongue inside. She pulled back, momentarily admiring the way you looked just from something as simple as oral and some fingering- glossy eyes, puffy lips smeared with her spit, and if she looked down- how your inner thighs glistened.

Her lips trial from yours, staring at your neck, then your chest, and finally your tits which Ellie had absolutely no problem with pulling the straps down to expose them, leaving the fabric bunched around your stomach. In her eyes, everything she wanted- no, needed was accessible this way.

Ellie looks up, placing a delicate kiss on the skin of your lower stomach, "Got one more fr' me, pretty girl?" She asked softly, tenderly, but it still managed to come off more intimidating than a question should sound.

You nodded shyly, a small whine emitting from the back of your throat, looking down at her with your breasts out for her viewing, grabbing pleasure, and your legs spread wide, ready to take her.

She lifted her upper half up, slim fingers holding the base of her cock, and lined the artificial tip with your entrance. She glided the tip up your folds, coating it with your slick, and let out a sultry exhale since she could practically see your walls clenching around nothing in preparation for her.

She teased you for a bit- only giving you a couple of inches before backing away and repeating, each time causing you to whine harder and harder out of frustration. Sure, Ellie was having her fun watching you squirm, grab for her, and fuck- how your hole gapped each time she pulled out, a clear, viscous fluid leaking from it, but she was growing just as impatient- feeling your legs wrap around her waist, pulling her closer, pleading variations of her name and "please" and who is she to deny you when you ask so nicely?

She thrusts her hips forward until her crotch was flesh with your ass, your legs in the air, and her hands pushing on the back of your thighs.

"Is this what you wanted, huh?" She gritted, pulling her hips back only to snap them forward again.

You cried out loudly, curling your fingers around the bedsheets until the blood stopped circulating, turning the skin there a lighter shade than the rest of you.

She pushed harder on the back of your thighs- your knees pressed up against your chest, and using what you can imagine is all of her strength to thrust into you. She was reaching the deepest part of your cervix- grunting and moaning on Ellie's end while you mewled high-pitched noises mixed with the wet slapping of her cock repeatedly slamming into you.

Ellie's eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly upward, and her lips parted as insufficient, short breaths seep from them. Her hips started to falter from the endless abuse her clit was suffering behind the base of her strap, her boxers now a sticky, cold mess that stuck to her cunt and thighs.

She collapses on top of you, snugging herself between your legs to connect her lips to yours in a desperate effort, overpowering all your senses with her. She continues to fill you over and over again, both of you moaning in between breathless lips.

You wrapped her arms around her as her head hung low into your neck, digging your nails into the skin of her shoulder blades.

"El... mmhm- I'm gonna-" You babbled before biting your lip to silence the cry that was bubbling in the back of your throat, and Ellie wasn't far behind.

The pistoning motions of her hips turned into a grinding one- keeping a steady pace and rolling her hips forward, "M-me too- fuck... stay with me, yeah?" She said in between soft pants, the warmth of her breath brushing against your lips as her hand came up to gently but firmly wrap around your neck.

Ellie's head goes fuzzy as you looked up at her with your half-hooded gaze and your perfectly rosette lips that are just begging to be wrapped around something, so- she released the hold she had on your neck and brought her two fingers that were previously inside of you to your mouth.

She didn't even have to say anything for you to part your lips wider, slipping her fingers inside and rolling them over your tongue.

You moan, closing your lips around her as her fingers reach further back, causing tears to fall from the corner of your eyes.

"That's it-" She coaxed, her eyes focused on the split trailing down your chin,"-such a good girl."

She motioned her fingers in and out in a vulgar manner, bitting her bottom lip before pulling her fingers out all together to fist the bed sheets beside her.

"Fuckfuckfuck-oh my god-" She grunted incoherently, dropping her head to space between your neck and shoulder. Her forehead glistened with proof of her efforts as she rushed the pace to ease the itch between her legs.

You tightened your legs around her waist, pretty little noises falling on Ellie's ears as you both peak.

She rolls her hips- making it slow and deep until your voice grows tired and quiet before pushing her upper half away from you.

You wince at her absence, feeling your walls retract back to its original shape like the sand inside of an hourglass.

She plopped down beside you with an exaggerated sigh of exhaustion, pulling up the bottom of her tank top to wipe the slick/sweat mixture from her chin and nose, giving you a few seconds to admire her hardened stomach and prominent 'v' which lead your eyes down to the fake dick still standing high between her thighs.

She catches you looking, the corner of her lips tugging into a smirk as she lets out a low chuckle.

You meet her eyes, realizing you have been caught, which causes you to look away quickly, but her hand grabs yours.

"Gettin' shy on me now after all that?" She said, pulling at your hand to silently instruct you to get on top of her, so you did.

Her hands rub up and down your thighs, and her bottom lip snug between her teeth. She eyes your body, starting from your tits down to her cock that is resting against your lower stomach.

"Wanna do me a favor?" She asked, palming the fat of your thigh that spilled over the heels of your feet. You hummed at her- a sweet, genuine hum that was full of eagerness to assist her, which almost made Ellie feel bad for what she was about to say- key word almost.

"Put that pretty little mouth of yours to use and clean me up."

[mollyrolls]

if you ever listen to me, let it be this time ‼️‼️‼️ please read rot and give it the love it deserves. truly one of the best pieces of writing on this site

rot: h. iwaizumi

chapter five -> the move

(masterlist ; written content)

word count: 3.8k

now playing: school shooter by wych elm

warnings: this chapter is heavy with discussions of abuse, violence, other themes already discussed in this story, divided this last chapter in two parts and this is going to be the angst before the happy ending. when i say angst i mean angst. rest assured happy ending is coming tho

Her well-organized list of problems has been upended. A bright, shiny new problem has outshone all of her other ones, dimming them, displacing them, reducing their need for attention.

Problem #1: Iwaizumi Hajime, neighbor, definite arms-dealer, maybe boyfriend, has been arrested.

It’s hard to get people to listen to you in a police station. Cops sit at their little desks and they look at you like they’re pretending to pay attention to what you’re saying but really, all they can think about is how much better than you they think they are, and how little they care about your problems.

Matsukawa has a hand over her shoulder, not firm but not lose, like he’s ready to pull her back down to her feet if she leans too far over the front counter. She’s trying to appeal to the lady behind the front desk, (as if there’s anything she could actually do), voice raw and shaky, knuckles going white as she grips at the edge of the counter.

“Please,” she begs, her unhidden desperation feeling out of place in the clean station, where the smell of hand sanitizer and pine floor cleaner is heavy in the air. It’s far too bureaucratic for her to be like this; reduced to a pile of tears and snot, begging and pleading and being ignored like a small child throwing a fit. “He didn’t do anything to me. This is fucking insane, lady.”

“Honey,” she says, voice slathered in condescension, like she knows. Like she knows Iwaizumi’s been treating her like shit this whole time and she’s just been too stupid to realize it. Like she knows what’s best for her just because she sits behind the front desk at a police station for eight hours five days a week for semi-not shit pay and a pension. “If you want to help your boyfriend, the best thing you can do is get him a lawyer, okay? Yelling at me isn’t going to help. They can hold him for forty-eight hours, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

God, she wants to reach over this fucking desk and sink her nails into this lady’s face. Dig under her skin and gather evidence so they know it was her that did it. That desk lady’s sickly-sweet tone and fake pity had driven her to madness. A long-buried thirst for violence that makes her feel like a grade-school girl boils in her blood and it’s like Matsukawa can sense it because it’s then that his hand goes tight around her shoulder, and he pulls her back. “Thank you, ma’am,” he says, relaxed politeness sounding natural on him. “We appreciate your help.”

She doesn’t appreciate her help. She doesn’t appreciate shit. She wants to jump over the counter and make that known, but Matsukawa grabs at her arms and tugs, using a bit more force to get her away from that desk. But she makes a point to turn her head and shoot that lady one more rage-filled sneer.

Matsukawa doesn’t let her go until he’s pulled her out the front door, into the sidewalk of a busy city street. But he has no qualms about stopping her there, a dam in the middle of the sidewalk, foot traffic splitting and flowing around them. He grabs her by both of her shoulders. “Okay, you need to calm down. Like right now. Alright?”

Her teeth grind together. “I want to pop her fucking eyes out,” she spits out, like an unrepentant child, unashamed of her outburst.

“Well, that’s not going to do anything to help, so don’t fucking do that,” Matsukawa says, a bit of a bit in his voice and slightly shaking her shoulders. The air surrounding them is suffocating, hot and humid and beads of sweat are popping up on the back of her neck already. “And she’s right. There’s nothing we can do but get him a lawyer.”

She doesn’t look at Matsukawa. She hates him right now, because he’s right, and there’s nothing her blind rage and outburst can do to make it better. She focuses her stare just past him, watching the stream of tourists and college students and burdened employees that drifts down the sidewalk, past both of them. She gnaws on the inside of her cheek. “Whatever.”

He releases her then, and her gaze falls to her shoes as Matsukawa steps back from her. A hand reaches up to push stray strands of hair away from his forehead. “Oikawa’s calling his guy. He should be down here soon. We’ve gone through this before, we know what to do. Iwa’s not an idiot, he can handle himself in there.”

The combination of rage and embarrassment tastes sour in the back of her throat. “He didn’t do it,” she asserts, for no one else other than herself.

“Course he didn’t fucking do it,” Matsukawa scoffs. “Iwa has lines. Hitting his girl is way past them.”

Her mouth furls. It’s getting hotter and hotter every second there on that sidewalk. Every emotion feels too big for her body; it paralyzes her. She hates this. She fucking hates this. Iwaizumi being locked in some holding cell with the drunken disorderly conduct leftovers from the night before. Him being in there because of her.

Matsukawa sees her standing there, stiff and clenched up, and sighs. “Look,” he starts off, more sympathetic than before, and the pity makes her twitch, “why don’t you just come back to mine and Makki’s place for now? You don’t have to go-“

And then, the call of her name. Loud enough to get the attention of everyone on that sidewalk. Commanding enough that people look, just to make sure, just to double check that it’s not their name, that they didn’t make a mistake, somehow. She looks over Matsukawa’s shoulder and sees her father. Out in the open, on the sidewalk.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he says as he approaches, broad smile sending a new rush of rage down her spine. Matsukawa raises an eyebrow at her, but she doesn’t dare to tear her eyes away from her father, looking clean in his freshly pressed uniform. Like this is some kind of special occasion for him. “I was worried help wouldn’t get to you in time.”

She blinks. There’s no room for fear in her body. “Help?” she echoes back, voice hoarse.

He moves to reach for her. She steps back, Matsukawa places himself in front of her. “When I saw how that boyfriend of yours was treatin’ you, I had to call in a favor. I got a friend that works in this district, y’know. I got lots of friends, Bug.”

Really, she shouldn’t be surprised. She feels stupid for not thinking of it earlier.

But she didn’t think of it. She wasn’t expecting it. She was completely caught off guard by her god-awful, piece of shit father.

So she can’t be blamed for her reaction.

She reaches into her pocket and fishes out her keys. A few for the sports store. Three for her apartment building (one for the front door, one for her place, and one for Iwa’s), and one to her old home she shared with her brother. She places them each between her fingers, and without very much hesitation, she punches the end of those keys into her father’s face, with as much force is left inside of her.

Pretty immediately, there’s a reaction from the stream of people. Screams, she thinks. Matsukawa’s quick to act, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her away from her now-bleeding father. But everything around her is white noise. She's numb to it. She looks at her father and she hopes the gashes will scar. “You piece of shit!” she screams at him. “I’ll fucking kill you! You fucker! You’re fucking dead!”

★⋆. ࿐࿔

Her list is fucked now. She doesn’t know where rage issues fall in the new order. But probably higher than before, she would have to guess, because she’s sitting in an interrogation room.

Kageyama Tobio sits across from her, sleeves pushed up to his elbows and arms crossed over his chest. He’s leaned back in his seat, and she has this feeling she’s about to be scolded. “Assaulting a police officer is pretty serious.”

She feels dirty, humid air making her skin sweaty and salty, her hair fizzy and tangled. A bit of blood splattered on the skin of her forearm. They wouldn’t let her wash it off. “He’s not a police officer to me,” she says, words coming stubbornly out of the corner of her mouth. “He’s just my piece of shit father.”

Kageyama leans forward, bare forearms pressed against the cool metal of the table between them. “Can I ask you something?” He does not wait for the answer. “Is Iwaizumi worth all of this? Look at where you are, do you think this is worth it?”

“Can I ask you something instead?” She waits for confirmation from him. He gives her a slight nod. “Did you like PCD?”

He sighs, fingers tapping against the table. She wants to break them. “We can drop the charges on you, y’know. If you have something more valuable to give us, we’d be happy to do something for you in return.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Valuable?”

Kageyama leans back again. He adjusts a lot, she’s noticed. Moving and shifting and repositioning. She has stayed still in her seat. “Listen, I’ve known Iwaizumi for a while. All of them. I know what they’re like. I know how they can make you feel. You get caught up in it. Good people like you and me find themselves in shit situations without realizing it. But let me tell you this,” he says, severe, and a finger pointed in her direction, “Iwaizumi’s not going to give this up for anything. And you’re not an exception. As much as you think he cares about you, he cares about his job more.”

She can see her mother so clearly, then. For the first time in years. She can see her features, the details of her face. The ones she has in common with her brother. The ones she has in common with her. She can see the anger twisted into her brow like a permanent fixture. She can hear her voice, as if it’s in her ear now.

“Men like your father, they only care about one thing. And it’s not you and it’s not me.”

She lifts her head to meet Kageyama’s stare. His eyes are so sharp and so blue. “Kageyama?”

He leans forward. “Yeah?”

“Suck my dick.”

The sigh of defeat is, at the very least, satisfying. His shoulders slump and she watches the last bit of hope he was holding onto fade out of him. And at least she has that. “Well, in that case, you’re free to go. Your father’s not pressing charges.”

She stands at once, not immediately being hit the with realization that he had tried to trick her into snitching. “Fucking finally,” she spits out, her limbs feeling stiff and disjointed.

She’s halfway out the door when Kageyama says, “Yeah, well, see you later, I’m sure.”

★⋆. ࿐࿔

Iwaizumi is released before the forty-eight hours is up. She does not find out until four days after.

Most of those four days are spent numbly sitting through her shifts, face weathered and her limbs hanging from her body like heavy, led weights. She lies in her bed. She hardly eats. She checks her phone every five to ten minutes and she calls Oikawa and Matsukawa and Makki and gets their voicemails and she hears nothing.

And then, as she’s hanging out the window, smoking her second cigarette in a row, she sees him. Walking down the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets and his chin up. She watches, in disbelief for a moment, waiting to see if he’s going to turn into their apartment building and run straight up the stairs and into her arms and kiss her and apologize and swear that he would exact vengeance on her father. For the both of them.

But Iwaizumi just walks. He goes straight until he is out of her view.

With shaking hands, she texts him:

so when were u planning on telling me u got out?

He does not respond.

★⋆. ࿐࿔

It’s a month before he speaks to her again.

A month after no texts and no calls and no early morning coffee visits and nothing but the creaks of his floorboards from above. It’s torture. It scratches at her throat and it puts nails in her bloodstream and she spends more than one evening laid out on her bathroom floor, sobs wrecking through her frame, clawing at nothing, trying to grab onto something.

The feeling of abandonment is not entirely unfamiliar. It tastes the same as anger, and it never comes without it. And the combination can make her irrational.

“-and my friend Tanaka has a truck,” Kiyoko says into her, her voice fuzzy from the poor connection. She has her phone pressed between her ear and her shoulder, haphazardly throwing whatever belongings she can find into the cardboard box she stole from work. “He offered to help move your stuff out if you want.”

“Yeah,” she mumbles, drifting through her apartment, stopping as she settles in front of her CD player, sitting in the middle of her kitchen table. The one Iwaizumi gifted her. She makes no move to grab it. She’s sure that Kiyoko has one already. “Maybe he could come by tomorrow. I could be done packing by then. That cool?”

“Yeah, that should work. I’ll ask when he’s free.”

She hums in response, and kicks at one of the legs of her coffee table. A lot of her sidewalk trash furniture is going to right back to where it came from. “Are you sure this is okay with you?”

“Of course!” is Kiyoko’s enthusiastic confirmation. “It’s been a little lonely since my last roommate moved out. And to be honest it’ll be nice to split the rent again.”

God, rent splitting. It sounds like a dream to her. Expenses divided in half-she almost drools at the thought of it. She chuckles. “Alright, fair enough. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, then. Should probably finish packing now.”

“Alright. See you then.”

She snaps her phone shuts and pockets it.

Even as she empties it of her belongings, the apartment is a mess. Littered with forgotten belongings and things she never had the motivation to get rid of. Things she doesn’t know what to do with. Things that she doesn’t need and can’t justify keeping but she can’t bring herself to trash. The Ponkadu mug. Her pink, fuzzy journals filled with love struck passages. A dried, dead dandelion Iwaizumi ripped from the ground and placed in her hand.

Her head throbs. She looks up at the ceiling above her, like she’s waiting for something. A creak or a slam or something. A sign that he’s still there. That he’s not as far away from her as he feels. But it’s silent, and there’s nothing. And it’s like he was never even there in the first place.

She swallows the lump in throat and returns her attention to the scattered objects in front of her. She forces herself to harden and drops the Ponkadu mug in the trash. Then the journal. Then the dandelion. And she thinks to herself, bitterly, like she’s in an argument with herself, that it’s not like he was never even here in the first place. The evidence of his existence is all over her. It lingers in her lungs, in her chest, it spreads through her bloodstream. Iwaizumi’s there, causing every ache and every sting and every throb. He’s there.

Something possesses her. Everything can go in the trash, suddenly, it doesn’t matter what it is. Plates and freezer-burnt ice cream and a half-empty first aid kit. Anything with the lingering presence of Iwaizumi is getting dumped. Trashed. Left rot and fester in some landfill. And after an hour passes, her apartment is covered with bursting, heavy black trash bags of her wasted belongings.

She sits on the floor, shoulders slumped, legs crossed. She already threw out her couch. Her mattress is sitting on the floor of Kiyoko’s apartment, in the bedroom that will be hers by tomorrow. So for now, all she has is the rotted hardwood floor, where Iwaizumi told her he’d marry her.

Her throat tightens. She cannot get out of here fast enough.

Sweat droplets form on the back of her neck as she stands, ready to start hauling bag after bag out to the presumably already overflowing dumpster behind her apartment building. Her knees knock together as she stands, and she moves towards her door, ready to prop it open with one of the trash bags.

She undoes her deadbolt. Then her chain lock. Then she opens the door, and Iwaizumi is there, hand raised to knock.

At the sight of him, her throat tightens up, and she is immediately, torn split between her rage and her desperation. As much as she wants him to hold her, to make her promises and give her the comfort she’s been craving so desperately for the past month, she wants to bite his head off just as much. To make him hurt the way he hurt her. To tear him up from the inside.

Instead, she stares, blankly, somewhat horrified. Her heart beats heavy in her throat and her ears get fuzzy. He looks the same. That makes her angry. She wishes there was some change, some difference. But the Iwaizumi that said that he loved her in her kitchen and that he’d marry her on her floor is the same one that left her to rot on her own.

He steps into her apartment, right past her, like he still has the right to, and looks at the state of it. Everything packed up. Everything scattered. He looks at her like he still has the right to. “What’s going on?”

She flinches, and her anger is starting to win. “I’m moving.”

Iwaizumi pulls that face. That same one. Always looking like he’s slightly dissatisfied with something. “Why?”

Why. It’s such a stupid question. She tries to take a breath to calm herself but it makes her shudder and lock up. “I’m sure if you think about it, you can figure it out.”

She watches the air enter and exit his lungs through the rising and falling of his shoulders. He looks at her, right through her. “Don’t leave.”

In an odd way, she likes the control. She likes the feeling that, for once in her life, she’s not the one begging. “Don’t tell me what to do. Not after you left me.”

He exhales sharply. Iwaizumi takes a step towards her, and she takes a step back. “C’mon, that’s not fair. I didn’t leave you. I just needed to put some distance between us for the time being. Your dad, he’s fucked, alright? It was a liability to-“

“A liability?” she cuts him off, hands clenched into fists by her side. The heat in her blood rises. “I’m a liability?”

Iwaizumi shakes his head and reaches towards her. She jerks away from him. “No, not that you’re a liability, it was just a risk to be around you while-“

“So, what, you couldn’t get one of your little errand boys to tell me about it?” she says, and it comes out like a bark. “You had to leave me in the dark for a month while you dicked off doing god knows what? Too risky to send a text? After I lied to the cops for you and risked getting arrested for you and became a fucking on-call nurse for you, you couldn’t send me a fucking text?”

Her breath is ragged. Iwaizumi stares down at her like he’s seeing for the first time. “I thought you wouldn’t care. I thought you don’t care about anything.”

And it’s too much for her. It’s too big for her body. It’s too much for her to carry and she can’t hold onto it anymore. “I care about everything! I care about everything so fucking much it makes me sick!” she erupts, tears in her voice and rolling down her face. Her skin feels hot. The air feels hot. “Is that what you liked about me so much? You thought I was some kind of apathic ragdoll you could toss around and do whatever you want with?”

“I thought you would understand!” he eventually bites back at her, his own voice rising. “I thought you knew what kind of life I live and what that meant! God, you fucking act like nothing bothers you and you pretend to not see the world around you and you just expect me to read your mind?”

“What fucking person would be okay with being abandoned for a month?” she screams. “You knocked on my door and asked me for a favor and you hovered around me and you said you loved me and said you’d marry me and then you just fucking disappeared! That’s so fucked, Iwa. That’s so fucking cruel.”

He steps towards her, and before she can say anything his arms are around her shoulders, pulling her into his chest. Like one simple embrace will end it all. Like he can just take her in his arms and suddenly she’ll stay, suddenly it’ll fix everything. She wants it to. She wants it to so badly. But she places her palms on her chest and pushes him away. She stumbles back and looks at him with wet eyes. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“I do love you,” he tells her, voice lower now. “I meant what I said and I still do. You’re my girl. You’re everything to me.”

She shakes her head, trembling. She can’t let it be true. “No, I’m not,” she asserts, backing up into her kitchen table. Her hands go around the edge of it. “I don’t mean anything to you. You wouldn’t have left me if I did.”

“I had a reason-“

“I don’t fucking care what your reason was! I don’t fucking care, Iwa! I don’t care about your stupid job or your stupid fucking guns or whatever! I care that you were here, and then you weren’t! You left me like my mom did and you left me like my brother did and then you come back here and you have the fucking audacity to not even be sorry about it. I fucking hate you!”

She knows that she doesn’t mean it, when she says it. Iwaizumi probably knows too. He probably knows she doesn’t mean it when she swipes the CD player he got her off the kitchen table and it goes flying. Soaring across the room until it slams into the opposite wall, breaking and crumpling against the pressure. Bits of it snap off.

Iwaizumi looks at it, and then he looks at her. She’s shaking. She wants to get on her knees and do everything she can to fix it the second it breaks. But it’s on the floor, broken and shattered. Iwaizumi nods, and then he leaves. He turns around and walks out the door and slams it shut behind him.

an: huge huge huge huge thank u to wyr and ness and honee and molly and dodger who all had to suffer thru me trying to get this chapter out u guys are the best

taglist: @wyrcan @thechaosoflonging @bedeater @deluluforcarlos55 @localgaytrainwreck @cherrypieyourface @eclecticeggknightpsychic @httpakkeiji @does-directions @needtoloveoutloud @causenessus @kawaii-angelanne @thatonecroc @v1oletfury @lonesomedrive @nnnyxie @pinkiscool @michivrse @cannibalsrider @kmwife @k8nicole @oikasenpai @fennecnco @riousluvs @bellamsby @rinheartshyunlix @bae-ashlynn @ephemeralninon @fangsbb @plumarbre @v-e-r-t21 @snail-squasher @seroh @mfcherry @canthavetoomuchchaos @ange1icarch1ve @applepi25 @wqnsho @19calicos @girlkissersco @Lisoozi @bailey-reeds @kitskasoboring @iluvaquaphor @lllaw @kinsies-blog @1lovestrawberrymilk

[witchywithwhiskey]

Hi Molly<3

How about captain Syverson and

“be still” - “i can’t” - “yes you can, do you want to find out what will happen if you don’t?”

morning cuddling with the love of your life

pairing: boyfriend!captain syverson x female reader

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, morning sex, fingering (f receiving), finger sucking, breeding kink, dirty talk, praise kink, daddy kink, little bit of mommy kink, pet names (bunny), morning cuddles, established relationship taken to the next couple levels 👀

word count: 1,800ish

a/n: ahhh thank you so much for sending in this prompt—and for requesting my second favorite captain!! this one is just pure smut with a very fluffy ending, i hope y'all enjoy!! ♡♡

The sunny spring morning began, as all your mornings had since you’d started dating Captain Syverson, with some sleepy cuddling. You’d only been dating a few months, and he hadn’t moved in yet, but Sy always seemed to end up in your bed—even the nights he worked late—and you enjoyed him being there. You loved falling asleep in his arms and waking up to his warm comfort too much to say anything about it.

That morning, the sun was shining through your bedroom windows and casting a yellow glow over everything. But it was chilly beyond your blankets, the spring day not having yet been warmed by the sun, and you were happy to stay in bed. You were still half-asleep when your fingers started searching for Sy’s broad, warm body, pulling yourself closer once you found him, humming happily when he wrapped his thick, beefy arms around you. 

You sighed contentedly with your face buried in his chest, your body settling into his comforting embrace as you breathed in the woodsy, familiar scent of his skin. The hair dusting across his burly chest tickled your cheeks pleasantly and you shifted closer, hitching your bare thigh over his hip. Because you wore only one of Sy’s t-shirts, your uncovered core pressed to the soft cotton of Sy’s boxers, and you felt his bulge twitch against your warmth.

A little shiver raced down your spine, but you were still too sleepy to do anything about the length hardening between your thighs. Besides, Sy didn’t seem inclined to take things further yet either, as he rumbled a deep snore.

The both of you dozed for a little while, until a deep, reverberating groan in Sy’s chest roused you again. It was only then that you discovered your hips were rocking gently against your boyfriend’s cock, stirring up a heat that crashed through your body as soon as you became aware. A soft gasp left your lips, and Sy groaned louder, knowing you were awake.

“Ya gotta stop, or ‘m not gonna be able to let ya sleep anymore, bunny,” Sy rumbled, his voice far too warm with sleepy pleasure to sound the least bit warning. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, his beard tickling your skin, and you smiled into his chest, enjoying the heat curling deliciously through your body.

Stretching up, you reached blindly for Sy’s mouth, your eyes still closed and, after some fumbling, managed to kiss your boyfriend good morning. His arms squeezed you tightly as you kissed lazily, knowing you had all the time in the world to spend the morning in bed together.

“Maybe I’m done sleeping, daddy,” you murmured against his mouth when you broke the kiss. You rolled your body more purposefully, grinding your naked pussy against the bulge in Sy’s boxers and delighted in his grunt of pleasure. “Maybe I wanna feel you stuff that big cock of yours deep in my needy pussy.” 

Sy rumbled a chastising sound. “Christ, the mouth ya got on ya, bunny,” he muttered. Still, he slid his big hand down between your bodies, cupping your pussy possessively and thrusting two fingers inside to test your readiness. You were wet and slick for him, and he dragged a moan from your lips while he fucked you. His tone managed some menace as he growled, “Maybe I should shove my cock into that filthy mouth of yours and show you what dirty girls get for rilin’ up their daddies.” 

“Nooo, please,” you begged, pouting up at him and fluttering your lashes in the way that had Sy’s cock twitching against your thigh, his precum leaking onto your soft skin. “I’m already so wet for you, daddy, would you really deny me when my tight little hole is dripping and begging for you?” 

With a tortured groan, Sy rolled you onto your back, his hips settling between your thighs and pushing you open wide with his broad body. Pulling his fingers from your pussy, he slipped them into your mouth, and you eagerly sucked your own arousal from his skin. 

“Good girl,” he rumbled, the hint of a smile curving his mouth. 

While you were busy cleaning his fingers, Sy shoved his boxers down and lined up his cock with your entrance. He smacked your messy folds with the heavy head of his cock, watching as your eyes went heavy lidded and you moaned around his fingers. He removed them from your mouth and grinned when you let out a desperate whine. 

“Daddy, please,” you begged on a gasp, writhing beneath your boyfriend’s broad form.

Thankfully, Sy wasn’t interested in any more teasing and he pushed into your needy, aching hole. Your back arched up off the bed and you let out a sharp cry, enjoying the feeling of his thick cock stretching out your tight cunt. No matter how many times he fucked you, it always felt like Sy was pressing the air from your lungs and rearranging your insides to make room to accomodate his fat cock.

“Feel so fucking good, bunny,” Sy groaned when he was buried inside you, his balls pressing against your ass. For a long moment, he stayed there, his eyes closing like he was savoring the tight warmth of your body. “Christ, I could live in your cunt—ya feel like you were made for me.”

He was so big and hard and hot inside you that you couldn’t stop yourself from squirming, your knees climbing his sides so he could push even deeper into your cunt. The tip of his cock kissed your cervix and you moaned loudly, your inner walls gripping his hard length like your body wanted to suck him even deeper. You were practically folded in half beneath the beefy body of your boyfriend, but it wasn’t enough, you needed him to move, to fuck you—to empty his balls into you and fill you up with his seed.

“Be still.” The words were little more than an unintelligible growl from your Sy’s mouth. 

You whimpered, your hips rocking up against him, fucking yourself on his cock ever so slightly. Even if you wanted to stop, you didn’t think it was possible—not when you needed him so badly. “I can’t.” 

“Yes you can, do you want to find out what will happen if you don’t?” Sy’s hand gripped your face, his fingers digging into your cheeks and forcing you to look at him. “If you don’t stop, I’m not going to be able to hold back,” he warned, his face grim with barely leashed desire. “I’m gonna flood your unprotected pussy with my come and I’m gonna knock you up—is that what you want?”

Even if you’d wanted to lie and tell him it wasn’t at all what you wanted, your body answered Sy’s question for you, your cunt squeezing his cock even harder, like you were wordlessly begging him to put a baby in your belly. But you knew your boyfriend would never do anything if you didn’t say the words, so you forced your mind to focus through the pleasure and delirious need to get the words out. 

“I want it, daddy,” you admitted on a whimper, crying out when Sy pulled back, only to surge forward and make your whole body shake with the force of his thrust. With your confession out in the open between you, it seemed to loosen your tongue and a flood of words fell from your lips. “I want you to knock me up, I want you to put a baby in me—your baby, Sy—I want you to make me a mommy, please, daddy!” 

“Jesus christ, bunny,” Sy ground out as he pounded into you, his hips slapping against your thighs while he thrust deep into your cunt. “Ya want daddy to breed you—ya wanna be daddy’s good little breeding bunny, huh?” 

“Yes, yes yes,” you cried, gripping Sy’s broad shoulders, your cunt squeezing his cock. You were so close. “Breed me, daddy—Sy, please—please!” 

“Fuck,” he grunted, pausing to reposition his hips. Then he was grinding against your clit with every brutal thrust into your cunt and it wasn’t long before you screamed your release. Your whole body clenched tight, making Sy groan like he was in pain as your pussy gripped his cock so hard, his release quickly followed yours. 

Sy captured your lips in a messy kiss, his beard burning your cheeks and chin as hips stilled. You felt his cock twitch deep in your fluttering cunt, and the rush of his come overflowing your pussy, dripping down your ass. You shivered and moaned into Sy’s mouth, your hands clinging to his shoulders and neck while your bodies came together in the most primal way possible.

When you were finally sated and the last of his come had been wrung from his cock, Sy rolled over onto his back, taking you with him. Your bodies were still connected, the evidence of your releases making a mess of the both of you. You sighed contentedly and snuggled into Sy’s chest, a happy smile on your face.

“I s’pose I should officially move in, huh?” Sy asked, a bit of playfulness seeping into his deep, satisfied drawl. 

“You better,” you muttered, putting a little poutiness into the words, which made Sy chuckle. Pushing yourself up, you gave Sy a kiss before pulling away and shooting him a stern look. “Then you might wanna start thinking about putting a ring on my finger,” you said pointedly, arching one of your brows.

Sy grinned so wide, it made his beard twitch. Without looking away from you, he opened the bedside table drawer and pulled something out. You didn’t see what it was until you felt him slip something onto your left ring finger. With a gasp, you finally looked away to see the pretty engagement ring he’d just put on you.

“Way ahead o’ ya, bunny,” he murmured, tipping your chin to press a sweet kiss to your lips. “Assuming it’s a yes, of course.”

You snorted. “Of course, it’s a yes,” you said, a giggle of joy in your tone. Then you kissed him again—and again and again and again. 

Eventually, you settled back down on Sy’s chest, unable to keep your eyes off the ring, turning your hand this way and that so you could admire the way it sparkled so prettily in the bright morning sunshine. Already, you were picturing a spring wedding—Sy would look so handsome in a suit beneath an arch of spring flowers…

Your head spun a little with how much your life had changed on that spring morning, but you couldn’t be happier. You were going to become Mrs. Syverson and start a family with your captain—but the best part was that you’d get to start every morning cuddling with the love of your life. 

And you couldn’t wait.

[selineram3421]

Hiiii you're the first blog I check every morning and I absolutely LOVE everything you write!!

How about Alastor/Angel Dust/Husker finding the reader after attempting suicide? (If you don't want to thats fine, it can be super triggering, I just want comforttt)

I went aw and then went oh..

Lol but yes, I can do this.

Attempts

Warning! ⚠

⚠ mentions of attempted suicide-drowning/overdose/cutting, descriptive injuries, blood, mental illness mentioned ⚠

Human AU for this one:

Alastor, Angel Dust, Husk

Alastor🎙

He had noticed you becoming distant.

For what reason?

That's just the thing. He didn't know.

It did concern him though and he would check up on you from time to time.

But you would just smile and say you were fine. That you just had a hard time falling asleep last night.

There was something that still had him on edge. Something was wrong but you didn't tell him.

He was your friend, your best friend in fact! You could tell him anything...

Right?

Alastor had come to visit, bringing along some of his cooking to help cheer you up.

Time's were getting rough with the economy crashing. And you, his dear friend, lived alone with no immediate family around. It was just you and that cat that would occasionally come by for food.

He stood at the door of your apartment and knocked, waiting for you to open it and greet him.

As he waited, he noticed the claw marks at the bottom of your door, wondering if the stray cat had done it.

How odd.. He thought. They would have opened the door before the little creature could dare scratch up their door.

He knocked again.

But the longer he waited was making him slightly nervous. Tapping his foot until he could no longer stand still, he got the spare key you gave him and opened the door.

Calling out your name, he walked into your apartment and placed the place of food down on the kitchen counter. After closing the door behind him, he walked into the living room.

"Are you home?", he asked, looking around the room, spotting your coat and shoes still out.

They haven't left. Maybe they are asleep?

Something had formed at the pit of his stomach, the feeling of fear and worry cloaking his thoughts. He walked into their room after feeling it grow stronger.

Looking around, he saw that your bed was made and that everything was neat and tidy.

Then he noticed the paper on your dresser.

Walking over, he picked it up and started to read. It was odd, as it addressed whoever happened to pick it up, but then he noticed what it meant.

No no no no no-!

His hands shook and he flinched when hearing a loud splash of water.

Dropping the paper, Alastor ran to the bathroom, barging in. There he saw you in the filled bath tub, soaking wet with clothes and shoes on, gasping for air.

He said your name and rushed over, pulling you out of the tub.

"Darling, talk to me!", he said, grabbing a towel to wrap around your shaking form. "What-"

"I couldn't- I couldn't do it! I couldn't..", they sobbed, turning their head away from him as they sunk down onto the tiled floor. "Why can't I just do it!?"

Not knowing what else to do, he sat down on the floor and hugged them.

"Shh sh, its alright.", he whispered, rocking them back and forth.

They clung onto the back of his shirt, still shaking from their cries.

"Its going to be alright."

Angel Dust🕸

You were his buddy, his pal.

Someone he could tell everything to without having to worry about you running to the cops.

You were the friend that was always by his side, no matter how many times he fucked up.

You would encourage him, praise him, and just be like sunshine. It reminded him of his sister Molly.

He didn't notice when your smiles started to become a mask.

He didn't notice when you started taking drugs from his stash.

Angel had left to pick up some drinks for the both of you. The day was alright and you had asked to hang out for a while.

It was a little weird when you had started to point out every detail, but he had just brushed it off as you being observant.

Maybe it was one of those days when you would just stare at the sky.

When he got back, he couldn't find you in the room.

Weird. He thought and shrugged before sitting down on the couch to wait for you.

Opening up his drink, he went to take a sip before something caught his eye.

It was the vent that hid his secret stash.

Why is that open? No one could have known it was there but you-

His eyes widened and he shot up from the couch and ran around the place yelling out your name.

"Com' on! This isn't funny!", he yelled, opening every door that he came across. "You've nevah had drugs! You don't know how much you can handle!"

He found you on the floor, packs ripped open around you.

"No..", Angel said quietly before repeating it as he rushed over to your side. "Snap out of it!", he yelled out in a panic and shook you by the shoulders.

You were blinking really slow, pupils dilated and shaking.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!", he said, picking you up and placing you on a nearby couch. "Stay awake! I'm gonna call a hospital, ok!?"

"Sorry Angel.", you mumbled and lifted your hand to hold his. "I just wanted the pain to go away. I just wanted to sleep."

"Stay awake. I'll come back in a bit ok? Or let me find a phone with a long enough cord.", he said before running out of the room.

He held back from crying when speaking to the nurse on the phone. Doing his best to explain what was going on.

After the call, he went back to hold your hand until the ambulance came to pick you up.

He had gotten an earful for being late for a job but he didn't care about that. All he could think of was you, hoping you were alright as he worked on autopilot to get the job done.

Damn it. He thought as he paced back and forth. I should have paid more attention to them.

Angel immediately went to visit you after finishing up, rushing down the hallways to get to your hospital room with a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

He slammed the door open and found you awake, looking him up and down.

"What the fuck were ya thinking!?", he said as he made his way over to your side. "Best friends don't try to kill themselves before the other one! Best friends die tagethah!"

"I-"

"These are for you.", he said and placed the flowers on the nightstand nearby before sighing. "Why didn't you talk to me?"

Pulling up a chair next to your bed, he sat on it. Taking off his hat to brush his hair back to try and calm himself down.

"You know you can tell me anything, right?", he said looking at you. "I'm here for you, like you are for me. So talk to me."

Husk🃏

Honestly, he didn't know what to think of you at first.

You were just another person on the other side of the bar. Ordering a drink and sitting there for hours.

He knew a sad face, as it was quite common, but yours seemed permanent.

After a while, you became friends.

You weren't annoying and he appreciated your company. Sometimes when it was a slow night, he would show you card tricks.

He didn't know how depressed you actually were.

It had been a long night.

Husk had to serve some annoying assholes but other than that group it was tolerable.

What was odd was that you didn't show up.

They probably have an actual life to get back to. He thought as he cleaned up the bar.

After he locked up, he went out through the alleyway in the back. But as soon as he walked out he saw you leaning against the brick wall covered in blood.

"Oh shit!", he yelled out in shock before rushing to check you over.

He found your wrists slit, still gushing out some blood. Quickly, he ripped the bottom part of his undershirt and tied them around your wrists to try and slow the blood.

"Fucking hell!", he hissed and ran over to the pay phone across the street.

After putting in the coins, he called the nearest hospital and rushed out what was going on.

"I found them a few minutes ago! They are unconscious, but their wrists are still bleeding! I don't fucking know! Just send someone over!"

He got fed up with the person on the phone and slammed the pay phone back to its place. The change clunk down into the machine and he ran out of the booth to take you to the hospital himself.

"Don't you fucking die on me!"

After you were taken by the doctors, Husk sat on one of the chairs in the waiting room, bouncing his leg.

He hasn't beem that worried about someone since-

It's just been a long time.

It wasn't until a few hours later that you woke up. The doctors let him know that he could see you now, and he made his way over to your room.

As soon as he entered, he pointed at you with the grumpiest frown you've ever seen.

"Don't you ever do that shit again."

All you did was smile.

"Thanks Husk."

Then he did something that surprised you.

He hugged you and cried.

"You fucking dumbass.", he grumbled. "Do you know how shitty my night was? Then I find you passed out, covered in blood in the fucking dark."

"I'm sorry Husk.", you said, leaning your head on his shoulder. "I had a shitty night too. I wasn't thinking right."

Both of you stayed like that for a while.

Something that both of you never talked about was your home life. After this stunt, Husk would make sure to check in on you more.

"You owe me booze."

You laughed and agreed.

This was hard. Sorry for it being so late, but I hope you are doing better now.

~Seline, the person.

ML's for Alastor, Angel Dust, Husk

[kmt123whatsthetea]

Babies on the Brain

George Weasley x reader

Requested by @hahahafucku

Request gist: smut where George sees you holding Fred baby and he feels the need to give you one of his own.

A/N: thanks for the request. I carried on Fred and Angelina’s romance (Freds not dying in my world and George is ending up with the reader instead). I've never been good at writing for breeding kinks (I say like I'm good at writing other things) so I'm sorry if it sounds cliche or cringy or if it's just downright terrible. I don't know if I went a bit overboard on the before smut stuff.

T/W: unprotected sex, soft dom George, breeding kink, praise, kitchen counter sex, ginger baby (jk)

You and George had met in your first year of Hogwarts but your slow build up to a couple started after your fourth year. You had known him for years. His parents loved you, his siblings loved you, and he adored you. You loved his family, from his caring mum, to his mischievous twin, and finally his young sister (who was thrilled to have another girl in the family).

Speaking of George's mischievous twin, you couldn't believe the news when you heard that he was going to be a father. This was a boy who (with his twin) had set a firework dragon on a ministry of magic worker, had stolen a flying car, and had tested joke shop products on first year students back in Hogwarts. He was going to be a brilliant dad.

Those months went by with you and George helping Fred and Angelina with anything they needed, from trips to St Mungos to shopping for baby accessories. Throughout this time, George began to keep a closer eye on you. He’d zone out when you recommended baby grows to get his future niece or nephew or when you’d buy baby products so that the expecting parents were prepared.

A week after Angelina gave birth, she and Fred brought the little one round to meet the family. A little boy who already shared the Weasleys trademark fiery hair. Angelina passed him to you, letting you hold the baby whilst she went for a well deserved rest (Molly had persisted that she looked tired and could take a nap in Fred’s old room). You bounced the little baby in your arms, unaware of your boyfriend watching you from the doorway.

He didn't want to admit it, but seeing you with a baby in your arms made him weak in the knees. He wanted it to always be like this. He wanted the baby in your arms to be his. He'd always thought about having kids with you someday, but this was a wake up call. And the call was answered by that voice inside of him, telling him to make you his and only his.

————————————————————————

Once you got home to the small house that you and George shared, you went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. All you had been talking about all afternoon was how adorable Fred’s baby was with his tiny button nose and little toes. George stalked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, his face immediately going to the crook of your neck to press soft kisses to the skin.

“You’d make such a perfect mum to our kids”.

His words made you freeze. At first, you didn't think you’d heard him correctly, since his face was still tucked into your neck. But he made sure that you would listen.

“I bet you’d look so beautiful carrying our baby. So full and swollen…so full because of me”.

At this point, he was slowly rocking his hips against your ass. His cock slowly got harder while he left kisses along your collarbone. Small breathy moans slipped past your lips, his words and grinding getting you wetter by the second. You pushed your hips back against his, wanting nothing more than for George to take the hint and fuck you into the countertop. His hand splayed across your stomach through your clothes, muttering a soft “Want me in here, sweetheart?”. Your small whimper and frantic nodding had him smiling to himself. He wanted you to admit that you wanted this, he needed you to admit that you wanted him to do this.

“Need you to tell me what you want, love. Tell me how much you want to be full of my cum”. His breath on the shell of your ear caused you to shiver and turn your head as much as you could to look him in the eye. “Please George, fuck me. Fill me up. I want to be full”. Once he made you beg, he pulled your dress up and pulled your underwear to the side, knowing that it would take too long to pull them off. George pushed his trousers and boxers down, before pushing into you with one thrust that knocked the air from your lungs. His pace was quick and desperate from the moment he was inside of you. His cock felt amazing. You had both had sex without protection before but it felt somehow better when you didn't have to worry or take precautions. Your moans were sultry and erotic, and George swore that he had never heard a prettier sound (apart from the sound of his hips slapping against the plush of your ass).

His hand trailed its way down to tease and play with your clit, wanting to make you cum first. He had always insisted on cumming after you. His mouth was next to your ear in a second, his voice dripping with lust. “That's it sweetheart, milk my cock like a good girl. Show me how much you want me to cum deep inside you. Cum for me and I’ll stuff you so full of my cum that you’ll be carrying twins”. His thrusts got sloppier but his small circles on your clit got more determined. All it took was one final thrust to have you cumming around his cock, your walls clenching tighter than before. George's hold on you got tighter as his cum flooded your insides, not a drop going to waste.

After you had both caught your breaths and calmed down, he pulled his cock out. Pulling your underwear to its correct spot before whispering in your ear “Keep it all in there love, I’ll check tonight and if even a drop is gone, I’ll just have to fill you up again”