#I gave UP!!!! on trying to pain the devil's hair

[starlightpixels]

I met a lady in the meads, Full beautiful—a faery’s child, Her hair was long, her foot was light, And her eyes were wild. I made a garland for her head, And bracelets too, and fragrant zone; She looked at me as she did love, And made sweet moan I set her on my pacing steed, And nothing else saw all day long, For sidelong would she bend, and sing A faery’s song.

[puckinghischier]

Falling

Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary: reader gets hurt and nico is worried about her

notes: y’all i ain’t gonna lie, i went through a bit of a rollercoaster while writing this. i loved it at first, then halfway through started hating it, then somehow started loving it again towards the end. so if it seems a little all over place i’m sorry. also i know very little about how a dislocated shoulder works, so just pretended i didn’t if i got anything wrong. i hope y’all enjoy it!! happy reading!! 🫶🏼

request: from my 400 follower celly - “A hears that B got hurt and rushes over in a panic to see if they are okay” where reader maybe gets in an accident or gets hurt in their sport (nothing major). Bonus points if you add “I can braid your hair for you- I mean, only if you want.”

[4.5k]

part 2

“Yeah, Mom, I’m fine. Nothing’s broken, just a nasty dislocation,” you attempt to calm your mother’s nerves, trying to unlock your apartment door with your good arm while balancing your phone between your cheek and shoulder. “They reset it for me and told me to follow up with my primary care on Monday. Gave me some pain meds and sent me on my way.”

“Well, what about until then? What if you need help? What about work? How will you drive?” she rapid fires questions at you.

“I’ll figure it out, don’t worry. Since it was a work-related injury, I’ll still get paid. And they’re paying all of the medical bills, so that’s all taken care of,” you make your way into your apartment, shutting the door with your foot behind you. “Everything else I’ll handle as it comes.”

She doesn’t seem satisfied with your answer, tsking into her phone, making you picture her trademark displeased headshake.

“What about Nico? Why don’t you stay with him until you’re back to 100%? I’m sure he’d be willing to help out,” she suggests, her tone switching from worried to suggestive.

You roll your eyes, knowing exactly where this conversation is headed.

“Mom, how many times do I have to tell you, Nico and I are just friends. We work together. Just because you think you saw him look at me a certain way when you were visiting doesn’t mean I have to call him every time something goes wrong,” you tell her, placing your bag on your kitchen table.

Ever since your mom came in a few months ago to visit, she’s been on your case about making a move on Nico, it all starting when she witnessed Nico helping you across the ice during a pre-game practice while trying to get some action shots.

You work as a photographer for the Devils, not realizing that being able to ice skate would have been a nice addition to your resume.

Your college advisor arranged the interview for you right before graduation. You had no previous knowledge of hockey, having come from a football family. You told your advisor this, but she insisted you didn’t have to know anything about a sport to be able to take good pictures of it.

During the interview, you made sure to inform your now boss that you didn’t know how to skate, hoping it wouldn’t be a problem. He assured you that you could take pictures from the stands or the players bench, the chance of you having to step onto the ice slim.

For the first few months of your job, it was smooth sailing. You were mostly taking pictures from the camera holes in the glass or being told to cover locker room and arrival pictures. You worked with one other photographer, a seasoned sports photography veteran named Phil. Phil was a New Jersey native, having grown up skating, so he took over the duties of any major action shots the director wanted from on the ice.

Unfortunately for you, Phil’s wife had convinced him to retire early, losing his help right before the league’s short Christmas break.

Seeing as they had just hired you, and it was the middle of the season, the hunt for a replacement for Phil was put on the backburner, more important team matters taking precedence.

You were forced to take over Phil’s duties, meaning you were now responsible for any on the ice shots. You had found a way to slowly scoot across the perimeter of the rink, staying out of the way while also getting the shots you needed.

Your system was working well until the morning of a gameday, having gotten permission from your boss to bring your mother along to this particular practice, wanting to show her all aspects of your job.

For this particular game, the players were especially focused on practicing their skills and running drills during morning skate. You were doing your typical shuffle while clutching the edge of the waist-high wall when someone came zooming past you, causing your feet to start sliding uncontrollably, not being able to find your footing on the slick ice.

You felt the moment you were about to fall, waiting for the impact of your butt on the cold ice, but it never came. You felt yourself fall into a body covered by plastic pads, gloved hands shooting out to grab your upper arms.

You looked up, seeing Nico smiling down at you in amusement.

“It’s a bit slippery out here, huh?” he jokes, making sure you’re standing steady on your feet before letting go of you.

“Well, we are standing on ice, so….” You trail off, grabbing onto the wooden ledge again, preventing another near fall.

Nico laughs, looking down and shuffling his skates back and forth.

“Well would you look at that? We are on ice ” He flashes a smile, looking back up at you.

You stick your tongue out at him, earning another chuckle from the team’s Captain.

“You know, most people use these great things called ice skates when they try to walk on ice,” he tells you, lifting one skate up for emphasis.

Rolling your eyes, you scoff out a “Oh wow, why didn’t I ever think of that?”

“Just some food for thought,” Nico shrugged as he placed his foot back down on the ice, skating in a little circle, as if to say “See, told you so.”

You let go of the ledge to cross your arms, forgetting that you needed the stability. When you try to shift your weight from one leg to the other, you lose your footing again, this time falling forward into Nico. You let the camera in your hands fall, grabbing onto his biceps to stay upright, thankful for the camera strap around your neck.

His hands shoot out to grab your forearms.

“You know the sad thing is, even with the skates, I’d still be as clumsy, considering I have absolutely no idea how to use them,” you tell him, the two of you still holding on to one another.

Nico shakes his head at you, placing one of your hands on his forearm, moving you from in front of him to beside of him.

He starts slowly skating towards the bench while you shuffle your feet along, putting all of your focus on keeping yourself upright until you reach your destination.

When you finally reach the bench, you step off of the ice and let out a breath of relief.

“Thanks, Cap. Would’ve hated to make a fool of myself out there while my mom’s watching,” you thank him, looking over to where your mom sits, a smile on her face.

Nico follows your gaze and waves to your mom, matching her smile.

“Well, we wouldn’t want that now, would we? What if she found out her daughter was a skating fraud?” he teases, leaning in to whisper the last two words.

“It’s her fault for never taking me to the rink my town would throw up once a year at Christmas. Who knows, maybe I would’ve been a skating prodigy if given the chance,” you shrug.

A mischievous smile makes its way onto his face. “I think we should put that theory to the test,” he tells you, causing your eyes to latch onto his.

“Come again?” You raise your eyebrows and tilt your chin down.

“I mean, I can’t have some photographer out on my ice during practices that can’t even stand up,” he keeps his tone light, making sure you know he’s just teasing, “So, I’m going to teach you how to skate, and see if you really would have been a skating prodigy.”

He skates off, winking before resuming his practice.

You don’t have a chance to speak to him again until after the game, when you get at text from an unknown number reading “Rink, tomorrow, 2pm. I’ll bring skates, just bring your prodigy skills.”

After that, you meet with Nico twice a week for skating lessons.

The two of you quickly form a friendship, Nico bringing you coffee on gamedays and you slipping him snacks on the bench during games. You even started inviting him over for dinner after your lessons, insisting the least you can do is feed him to repay him for preventing you from making a fool of yourself on the ice.

Today, however, you did make a fool of yourself on the ice.

You were standing behind the net, telling the players to skate towards you so you could get some shots for the team’s Instagram account by request of the social media manager.

Once you were pleased with the amount of shots you had gotten, you left your spot from behind the net, skating slowly towards the benches, still a little wobbly on your skates.

You were looking down at your camera, thinking of how you’ll have to get Nico out here after the game to get some shots, knowing he’s currently doing pre-game interviews in the locker room.

You weren’t paying the slightest bit of attention to the pucks littering the ice in front of you, skating right into one and losing your balance, holding your camera up with one arm while trying to catch yourself with the other.

You felt the way your shoulder shifted, crying out in pain as players turned and started rushing towards you on the ice.

The team doctor came out and told you he was pretty sure your shoulder was simply dislocated, but sent you to the hospital to make sure nothing’s broken.

The ER doctor confirmed your diagnosis, putting your shoulder back into place before pumping you full of pain meds and placing your arm into a sling.

Which leads you to where you are now, back at your apartment, explaining to your mother why Nico can’t be at your beck and call.

“Honey, when are you going to realize that boy is in love with you? I’m telling you, the way I saw him look at you that day I came to visit, the skating lessons and dinners,” she starts, giving you her typical speech when you tell her Nico is just a friend.

“Mom, it doesn’t matter what you think you saw, we’re seriously just friends. And he’s busy, his schedule is too hectic to spend his time babysitting me,” you interrupt her, not wanting to hear her Nico speech for the thousandth time, regretting ever telling her about the skating lessons.

She sighs into the phone.

“I’m just trying to help you, you know…” you hear your mother start, but you tune the rest of her words out, focusing on the three loud knocks on your front door.

Your head turns to your door, the unexpected noise causing you to jump, the sudden motion tipping your bag over, the contents spilling all of your kitchen floor.

“Honey, are you alright? What was that?” your mom halts her one-sided conversation, worry in her tone.

“Shit!” you exclaim, watching the container of memory cards fly open, the small squares sliding across the linoleum floor.

You forget about the sling on your arm, crouching down and trying to reach for the cards with your bad arm, a searing pain shooting through your shoulder at the movement.

Letting out a loud yelp, you bring your arm back to its resting positing in the sling.

“Y/N, what’s going on? Did you hurt yourself?” you barely hear your mother’s voice through the phone speaker, not being able to think about anything other than the throbbing pain in your shoulder.

You hear three more pounds on your front door, this time a voice following the knocks.

“Y/N! Open up!”

You groan, trying to stand up, too many people trying to get your attention at the moment.

“Honey, talk to me. Is someone in there with you? I heard another voice,” your mother asks you as you stand, making your way over towards your front door.

“Someone’s knocking on the door,” you grit through your teeth, trying to think about anything but the pain in your shoulder. “I dropped my bag and tried to pick something up with my bad arm. I’m fine. Just hurts,” you tell her, opening your door to see a frantic Nico standing there.

His wide eyes scan your body, stopping once they see the sling on your arm.

You notice his wet hair and lack of socks on his tennis shoe covered feet.

“Are you okay? They told me you had to be taken to the hospital before the game started, but no one knew what really happened,” he rushed out, looking up at your face.

“Hey, Mom, gotta go, Nico’s at my door,” you tell her, a little stunned that the object of your conversation just appeared, hanging up the phone before she could make any comments about it.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?” you ask him, pointing towards his feet, an amused smile on your face. The shock of seeing him at your door making you completely forget about the pain in your shoulder.

Nico looks down at his own feet, looking back up at you with red cheeks.

“Oh, uh, I couldn’t find my socks after the game and i couldn’t get you to answer your phone, so I rushed over to the hospital to see if you were still there, and they told me you left about an hour ago, so I hopped in my car and came over here to make sure you were okay,” he tells you, not meeting your eye.

You’re shocked at his confession, not expecting him to be so concerned about your impromptu trip to the hospital.

“Well, I’m here and still standing,” you awkwardly stand in your doorway, not knowing what else to say, thinking about how if you weren’t arguing with your mom over Nico on the phone, you might have gotten his calls.

“Yeah, I see that now,” he shoves his hands in the pocket of his hoodie.

The two of you stand there, not really knowing what to say to one another.

“Do you want to come in?” you ask him, moving out of the doorway to let him step into your apartment.

Nico shakes his head yes and walks past you, looking towards the mess on the floor in your kitchen.

“What happened here? Is this the crash I heard?” he asks you.

“Yeah, the bag fell and spilled everything. When I went to pick it up, I forgot and used my bad shoulder,” you gesture to your slinged arm.

Nico shakes his head at you, crouching down to pick up the camera disks all over the floor.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to-“

“Well you’re sure as hell not trying to pick them up again,” Nico interrupts you, standing and placing the now full box of disks on your table.

You roll your eyes at him, walking over towards your fridge.

“So, what exactly happened? Jack told me you hurt your shoulder?” he follows you over to your fridge, watching you scan its contents, or lack thereof.

“Well, I was looking at my camera and skated right into a bunch of pucks on the floor, then was too focused on saving the equipment instead of remembering how to fall properly,” you told him, remembering his words during your first skate lesson, telling you not to catch yourself if you fall on the ice.

“See, I told you to just let yourself fall. Never try to catch yourself,” he echoes his words in your thoughts.

“Yeah, well, it’s a lot easier said than done,” you deadpan, shutting your fridge door and looking at Nico.

Your stomach growls at that exact moment, making you groan at your lack of food in your fridge, not having eaten since before your accident.

“When was the last time you ate anything?” Nico asks you, looking down at your growling stomach.

“Uhhh, breakfast?” you recall.

Nico’s eyes widen. “It’s almost midnight. Did they really not feed you at the hospital?” he asks you.

“Considering they were busy doing x-rays and scans to make sure nothing was broken or torn, no,” you walk over to your cabinets, finding them also bare.

“Alright, go sit down and I’ll order us something to eat,” Nico shoos you out of the kitchen, walking over and opening the drawer where you keep all of your takeout menus.

You wonder how he knows where your menus are, forgetting for a moment that he’s over at your apartment at least twice a week after your skating lessons. Sometimes more, the occasional movie night making its way into your weekly routine.

“What do you want? Sushi? Chinese? Burgers?” he questions, flipping through your menus.

For some reason, your brain chooses this moment to register how much you enjoy the sight of Nico in your kitchen, looking through your takeout menus and offering to order you dinner.

You think back to all the times he’s helped you make dinner, laughter filling every moment of your time together. You think about how he always wear his pjs when he comes over for a movie night, bringing a different chocolate candy to put in the popcorn each time. You think about how he somehow learned your coffee order without you ever telling him, bringing you a coffee every morning, even at away games.

You think about your mother’s words, and how you didn’t even have to ask Nico to come over tonight, or to give you skating lessons. You think about how you never have to ask Nico to do anything he does for you – which is a lot, you’re realizing – he just does it. He does it because he wants to, because he’s kind and caring and wants to spend time with you.

“Hello? Earth to Y/N, what do you want for dinner?” Nico snaps you out of your sudden revelation.

“Sorry, spaced out for a second. Must be the pain meds,” you tell him, knowing that your mind isn’t the least bit impaired right now.

“Okay, go sit down, we need to get some food in you then,” he fishes his phone out of his pocket, mumbling out “Can’t believe they pumped you full of meds on an empty stomach.”

You make your way to your couch, sitting down and taking your shoes off, making yourself as comfortable as you can.

You remove a stray piece of hair that fell onto your face, knowing how awful it must look.

When you fell on the ice, the claw clip that was holding your hair in its up-do broke, causing it to fan out over the cold, wet ice. Once you got to the hospital, you were put in and out of so many different machines, you can only imagine the tangled, matted mess it is.

You get up and go to your bathroom, finding your brush and trying to comb it out. The task proving to be difficult with only one hand. The tangles keep pulling your head back and hurting your tender scalp, but you keep trying, whimpering each time the brush gets stuck on a particularly bad tangle.

You don’t even hear Nico approach your bathroom, just a sigh and “I told you to sit down,” before the brush is taken from your hand and you see Nico’s reflection behind you in the mirror.

Without another word, he proceeds to brush your hair for you, ensuring every tangle is gone before setting the brush on your sink.

The two of you make eye contact in the mirror, neither one wanting to break the silence during the surprisingly intimate moment.

You clear your throat, looking down after the silence got too intense, causing Nico to avert his eyes as well.

“I really wish i could wash my hair, but i know that’s a no go tonight,” you chuckle, wishing your bathroom was a little bit bigger in this moment.

“I can braid your hair for you,” Nico starts, staring at you in the mirror, watching your eyes snap up to meet his. “I mean, only if you want,” he stutters out.

“Really?” you ask him, a little stunned.

“Yeah. I used to help Nina with hers all the time when I was younger,” Nico mentions his older sister, grabbing your hair lightly and starting to section it off. “Anytime she would have a sleep over I would always weasel my way into the party. So one day, she made me sit in a braiding chain and learn how to braid her hair.”

You let out a giggle, picturing a smaller version of Nico sitting at the end of a line of girls, braiding their long hair.

“Then, Nina claimed I got so good at it she always wanted me to braid her hair before her volleyball matches, then her friends all started wanting me to do theirs, too,” he continues talking, nearly lulling you to sleep with the soft movements of his hands as you listen to him speak.

“I think that’s adorable,” you quietly speak, closing your eyes.

“What can I say? When a pretty girl needs her hair braided, who am I to keep my skills to myself?” he jokes, making you wonder if he meant you or his sister’s friends.

“I’m sure it’s any little boy’s dream to have an entire volleyball team at his mercy, all those pretty volleyball players begging him to play with their hair,” you tease him, handing him the hair tie that you always keep on your wrist.

“I don’t know, I think playing with a pretty photographer’s hair is better, if you ask me,” he ties the hair tie around the bottom of the braid, reaching up to pull the braid loose, making sure it’s not too tight.

You keep your eyes closed, knowing he can likely see the redness on your cheeks at his words.

“Alright, eyes open. Need to make sure you like my work,” he places his hands on your biceps, making sure to keep his touch feather light on your bad arm.

He turns you around so you’re facing him, holding a handheld mirror that was laying on your sink in front of your face, allowing you to see the reflection of the braid.

You’re shocked to see the flawless Dutch braid that cascades down your back.

“Nico, you’re like…really good at this,” you reach your good hand to the back of your head, running it down the braid.

“Told you, I had a lot of practice,” he shrugs, setting the mirror down.

You yawn, the relaxing nature of having your hair braided allowing you to realize how tired you are from the day’s events.

“Nuh-uh, gotta keep you awake until we get some food in you,” he tuts, taking his hands and patting your cheeks.

You groan, leaning into his palms that stay resting on your face.

“C’mon, let’s get you changed and on the couch,” he motions for you to leave the bathroom.

You walk to your room, Nico helping you carefully remove your sling before leaving and giving you some privacy.

You change into your pajamas, somehow managing to get your arm into an oversized Devils shirt you found at the bottom of your drawer.

Nico is standing outside of your door when you open it, helping you back into your sling.

He stands in front of you, staring at you with a look that you can’t decipher.

“Is…everything okay?” you question him, noticing his stare after adjusting your sling.

His eyes snap up to you, seemingly unaware that he was even staring at you in the first place.

“Uh, yeah, sorry. I just- is that my shirt?” he asks you, pointing to your pj shirt.

You look down at the oversized shirt, trying to think of where you got it.

It had just showed up in your laundry basket one day, assuming it was one they gave you when you got your job, but Nico’s question makes you think harder.

You realize, suddenly, you do remember where you got it.

During one of your post lesson dinners, Nico had spilled his drink all over his shirt. You offered to wash it for him after he changed to a shirt in his duffel.

You meant to take it back to him after you washed it, but forgot about it entirely, packing it away in your pajama drawer.

“Oh, crap, it is. Do you want it back, I can go change?” you ask him, worried he’s upset that you forgot to give it back.

“No…no it’s fine. Keep it. I have plenty,” he shakes his head, glancing down at it once more.

The two of you make your way to your couch, finding something to watch on tv when there’s a knock on the door, signaling the arrival of your food.

You start to stand to go get it, but Nico sternly tells you to stay put.

Rolling your eyes you sit back down, grabbing the remote and continuing to channel surf.

Nico’s gone for longer than you expect, causing you to sit up and turn back towards your kitchen, wondering what’s taking him so long.

You see him walking over to you, a tray full of food in his hands.

He had ordered from your favorite sushi place, figuring it would be the easiest for you to eat one handed.

As he sat down the tray on the coffee table in front of you, you realized what took him so long.

Nico had put a toothpick in each piece of your sushi, knowing using chopsticks with your non dominant hand would have been hard for you. He poured soy sauce into a small container, allowing you to simply pick up each toothpick and dip it in the sauce before popping it in your mouth.

He had also ordered you a bottle of cherry coke, which he knew was your favorite, and placed it on the tray with the lid unscrewed and a straw peeking out of the bottle next to a glass of ice, just incase you wanted it that way instead.

You looked up at him, feeling that funny feeling in your chest like you did earlier in your kitchen, blown away at how he always seems to think of everything he can to help you out, even when you’re not injured.

You must’ve been looking for longer than you realized, because he cocks his head at you, confusion present on his face.

“What?” he asks, not understanding what’s wrong. “Did you not want sushi? I thought you said it was always the one thing that could cheer you up?”

You shake your head at him. “No, sushi is perfect,” you tell him, a small smile on your face as you look up at him.

He smiles back for a few moments, then started scooting the coffee table towards you so you don’t have to reach to grab your food. He moves around the table to sit beside of you, the size of the small table causing him to sit so close to you that you can feel the warmness of his large thigh against yours.

You once again think about all of the things he’s done for you without you even having to ask. Now including coming over after a game—no doubt exhausted and sore—and taking care of you without even thinking twice. Braiding your hair and calling you pretty. Staring at you unintentionally wearing his t-shirt. Modifying your food so it’s easier for you to eat with one hand.

You sit there, staring at the man you fear you’re falling in love with, already planning out the apology text you’re going to have to send your mom.

[grandline-fics]

Hello ! May I request sick mornings for reader with Sabo or Law supporting? Like reader wakes up queazy and with a cough and then vomits. The more the day goes on, the more of a fever they have.

Hope you have/had a lovely day!

DESCRIPTION: You wake up sick but try to hide it from them

WARNINGS: descriptions of illness, comfort

CHARACTERS: Sabo, Law

WORDS: 1,214

A/N: Thank you for the request! I hope this is okay for you. Had to do something a little different for Law since I doubted you could hide sickness from him.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

———————

SABO

Ever since Sabo received the legacy of his brother’s Devil Fruit, you had adapted the the extra heat his body now gave off. Coupled with how he always slept with holding you close, you were more than used to waking feeling warm. This morning however was different. Normally you would eagerly seek the soothing warmth and curl in closer but this time you inched away from the almost suffocating heat of the room in the hopes it would ease and bring you some relief. When it still made no difference you pulled yourself closer to the edge of the bed with heavy limbs. Even sitting up was a greater struggle than normal, with slow steps you managed to get to the window and threw it open, letting out a shaky breath of relief when the cool air inched over your skin. 

It helped the heat but it wasn’t fully enough. You let out a groan as you felt the pain in your head sharpening the more your body woke. Gently you lay your forehead against the pane of glass and closed your eyes tightly trying to will the pain away. At the sound of your discomfort, Sabo’s fingers twitched against the sheets. Confused that it wasn’t your body against his touch his searched the space for you. When you weren’t within reach, his mind sharpened more and he finally lifted his head to look for you. “Babe? You okay?”

“Fine…just too warm.” You reassured, your voice thready and lacking its usual strength and Sabo could tell immediately that it wasn’t just from tiredness. Immediately he was out of the bed and approaching you, his hand settling on your back to rub it soothingly. As much as you wanted nothing more than to draw yourself closer into his touch you didn’t want to undo the work of managing to cool yourself down. Thickly swallowing, you took his hand into your own and gave it a quick squeeze. “Need to get ready.” 

Over breakfast Sabo eyed you carefully. Any outright attempt to check on you would lead to stubborn refusal to admit you weren’t yourself. Your movements were sluggish and your gaze on your meal was hazy, unfocused as you tried to force another spoonful of food into your mouth. On this attempt the spoon stopped at your lips and you quickly dropped it, pushing away from the table. When you left the dining hall Sabo was following closely behind, making it to the bathroom just in time to pull the hair from your face as you threw up into the toilet. 

“You don’t have to be here…” you groan, wiping the back of your mouth and despite your words you’re more than happy to curl up against his chest while he runs his fingers through your hair kiss the top of your head that was still in agony. “It’s gross.”

“Babe, we’ve fought bloody battles I can handle seeing this.” Sabo chuckled as he carefully eased you to your feet and led you back to bed. When you were snugly against the pillows he draped a damp, cool cloth against your forehead. “Now we’re going to get you some painkillers and medicine and lots of bed rest. No arguments.”

“Sure Chief.” You mumbled, pushing the cloth closer against your head. “Whatever you say.”

“No arguing?” Sabo asked before giving a low whistle as he made his quiet exit to get what you needed to feel better. “You really are sick.”

LAW

It’s impossible to hide sickness from Law. He’s a doctor and he’s trained to see the signs. You haven’t escaped his notice for the last couple of days. You overexerted yourself on the last island, doing double the tasks than originally anticipated after the crew got separated into groups due to a heavy snowstorm. Adding in the tumultuous weather, fluctuating temperatures and constant traveling with little time to rest it was a recipe for sickness. On your first evening back on the Polar Tang your throat began to scratch and you began to clear your throat more than you should. You knew that getting an early night would have been the wise thing but you had your night duties to take care of so you pushed through. By the time you crawled into bed with Law you were shivering and feeling the pressure behind your eyes, pressing against the bridge of your nose, and it felt like you’d swallowed glass. 

Law woke in the early hours of the morning to the feeling of you shifting restlessly, you weren’t quite awake but you weren’t fully asleep either but that was soon to change. His eyes slowly opened to watch you push yourself up from your lying position on your stomach, beginning to cough. The sound was low at first, the rattle in your chest already audible as the coughing persisted. With a groan as the coughing subsided you dragged yourself out of bed, trying to suppress the next bout of coughing you knew would be on its way. You needed to get to a different room so you didn’t disturb Law. Reaching out you felt your way through the dark room, trying not to let the slow rock of the sub as it sailed underwater throw you off your already unsteady balance. When you reached the bedroom door you staggered only to fall back and find yourself on the bed. 

“You’re awake?” Your voice was thick and weak. You turned your head away to cough harshly into your elbow. Exhausted and sore you fell back against the pillows but tried to pull yourself away from being so close to Law. “Sorry.”

Law rolled his eyes and reached out, effortlessly dragging you back to the centre of the bed so he could roll you onto your side and rub soothing circles onto your back. “What’s your symptoms?”

“Just a cold, Doc. I’ll be okay with some rest.” You reported, managing to lift your sore limbs to manage your temples in the hopes of relieving the growing headache. You hated getting sick. You hated having to lie down. It was just a cold you told yourself. It wasn’t going to stop you from doing your duties. “You got stuff to do Law, we both do.” 

When you made a move to get up again, Law acted. Thanks to your lethargy he didn’t even need to be fast. His arm wrapped around your waist and he pulled you closer, his loose weight alone enough to keep you in place, his smirk appearing at the sound of your stubborn mutterings and curses. “If you can’t even get out of this, then you’re too sick to work. I’m not even trying.”

“Make me feel worse why don’t you?” You grumbled weakly, the feeling of Law’s low rumbling chuckle vibrating against you. 

“I’ll get you something to feel better but you have to promise to stay put.” Law hushed you with a quick kiss against your cheek. Slowly he lifted his hand but stayed lying beside you for a few moments to ensure you were going to behave. When he knew you would stay in bed he finally rose to get you the needed supplies. He wasn’t going to leave your side until you were back on your feet.  

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

TAG LIST (If I've missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @chaotic-on-main

[sitkainsnow]

Desperately need a fic from a police officer’s pov and they watch SuperBat interactions bc like all the cops either hate or love Bats, but are still kinda terrified of him, but ofc Supes is all sunshine and smiles and “He’s my best friend y’all!” And they KNOW bats probably totally has kryptonite and an attitude worse than the devil.

So they end up in a situation where they’re working together and Batman in taking with the police and Superman’s standing behind him waving and smiling at everyone while Batman is giving single-word or just huffs for answers. And then Superman freezes and cocks his head and to everyone’s surprise grabs Batman by the shoulder and whispers something in his ear and then what’s more surprising is Batman doesn’t even mind as he wraps his own arm around Supes and then they’re gone in a blur of blue and Black. All the cops are just left standing there like 🧍‍♂️shocked bc Bats didn’t mind Supes touching him.

Or another instance where it’s after this big battle in Gotham and it’s with whatever villain but Superman is there too and the villain had kryptonite. Anyways so after the battle Bats is talking to the police and handing over the villain and Superman comes over after talking to the civilians, picks Bats up by the scruff mid sentence politely nods to the officers he was talking too, and moves him a couple feet away and just starts yelling at Bats abt how stupid it is for him to run around jumping in the way of heavy blows EVEN if they have kryptonite and Bats just scoffs and turns his head away and all the police on the area watch as Superman and Batman argue about how stupid it is to risk your life to save the other (they both did it) completely oblivious to their audience and the police whose POV it’s in just thinks “god they sound like a married couple. Wouldn’t it be crazy if the two of the worlds greatest hero’s were actually a couple lmao. But that’s crazy they’re just really good friends”

Gordon watched all this trying not to blow his fuse bc yes, Batman does need to be yelled at, and yes, he does need to prioritize his safety more, but NO, you don’t need to be having your lovers quarrel in front of the whole damn GCPD.

Or in another instance Batman racks up a bunch of charges on him for whatever reason and the GCPD by luck manages to arrest him and so here comes Superman trying to bail his partner(in more ways than one) out of prison and the police are like “we’re really sorry Mr. Superman sir but we can’t legally do that” and Supes goes “what the hell did he even do” and so the officer goes “Property Damage, unlawful violence, arson, punched a cop in the face and broke his nose, caught carrying weed which is illegal in the state of New Jersey, multiple -and I mean multiple- unpaid speeding tickets. Oh, and the DMV wanted us to talk to him about his unregistered Batmobile and Batbike.”and Supes is about to cry as he quietly asks “Okay, so how much is bail” And the officer looks away and mumbled “sixteen grand” and Supes gasps and cries out “I don’t get paid enough for sixteen grand!!”

However thirty minutes later Supes is back at the GCPD station shakily counting out bills bc he can’t use a check or card (obvi) sweating heavily and looking extremely pained. The cops don’t even ask where he got all those bills so quickly and just watch him and another 30minutes later Bats is out and Supes is shaking him by his shoulder shouting “so who’s gonna lag me back!! Who’s gonna reimburse me for for 16k?? Whose gonna apologize for the heart palpitations you gave me?? Whose gonna apologize for all the gray hairs this is going to give me?? You’re giving me gray hairs all the time B!! I can’t do this!!” And Batman just sighs and pats Superman on the back as they walk out of the station and Superman is mumbling about bank credit and loans and how bad he looks with wrinkle lines and gray hair sounding like he’s about to cry.

Meanwhile the police try not to loose their minds throughout this whole interaction and Gordon’s just staring at the door blankly smoking a cigar and the police whose POV it’s in looks at the cigar a little bit closer and goes “That smells like weed” and Gordon looks at her and just says “I feel for Superman a bit more than I want to”

[hope-you-brought-kneepads-bitch]

Her Pet

Summary: Agatha had stolen you for Rio’s attention, she had no idea why Rio was so keen on getting you back, and when she did Agatha got more than she bargained for

Warnings: Minors DNI no smut, Rio and Agatha being gay and reader basically being used for reconciliation

Words: 1k +

A/n: Before the new episode that includes our favourite sapphic witches comes out I thought I’d put this little fic out, and obviously I need to include my demon reader because I can’t help it

A/n: this is rushed I did it in lunch, any mistakes are my own and maybe I’ll rewrite it when some more episodes come out

“Agatha where is she?” Rio held her knife close to the witch’s neck drawing little specks of blood that dripped down her chest “don’t lie to me either because I’ll know sweetheart and I would hate to mark your pretty skin”

Agatha’s breath shuddered and she licked her dry lips “…the closet…”

Rio smiled pulling the knife away and licked the remaining blood from it, she turned to the closet and walked towards it “come out sweetheart I’ve missed you, mommy won’t hurt you”

She laid her hand on the doorknob and twisted it open revealing you with tear stained cheeks “she-she said if I didn’t g-go with her I’d get hurt, I didn’t want to come here I promise!”

Rio knelt down to you holding out her hands for you to take, you jumped into her arms holding her tight “I’m sorry” you whispered over and over again

“Mommy’s not mad darling I’m just so happy you’re okay”

Agatha rolled her eyes at the sickly interaction “you’ve gone soft Rio, she’s just a girl”

Rio kissed you on the head and stood up staring at Agatha “she’s under a similar spell that you were, this is definitely not her own personality, she’s a powerful demon from the Salem era and I need her to snap out of it”

“That damn spell, I’m glad it affected more than just me, so why isn’t she a witch anyway?” Agatha helped Rio pick you up “her name was picked out of a hat and the devil wanted a new friend”

Agatha rolled her eyes “you’re a jackass”

Rio smirked sitting you down on a chair and pulling her knife from her waistband “hold her”

The other witch raised an eyebrow “I remember a time when we did something like this, fun memories” she grabbed your hands and you instantly started panicking “woah what’s going on?? Rio what’s she doing? Please help!”

Rio shushed you placing a finger to your lips “it’s okay honey I just need to do something okay? Close your eyes” you closed your eyes trusting the green witch who immediately stabbed her knife through your abdomen forcing you to scream out in pain and try to move from Agatha’s grasp

“Rio I hope you know what you’re doing!” Agatha felt you slowly stop struggling and eventually stop moving all together, the room was silent and Rio watched you hard for any reaction, Agatha had let go of you by now and was watching Rio closely “if she’s dead I’m not helping you bury the body”

“Just give it a second” she whispered and smirked when you started to stir “she’s waking up, come on Y/n come on”

Your body stirred and shifted, you opened your eyes fixing on Rio “you…are not…mommy tree witchy” the woman laughed and you gave a half hearted grin letting yourself fall asleep for a little bit

“Okay, what the hell was that? And why are you both still here? Get the hell out of my house” Agatha was frantic, she’d taken you as a ploy to get Rio here and now she was looking at your passed out body still with Rio’s knife sticking out from you, this was a terrible plan

“Relax Agatha” Rio stepped in her space and put some loose hair behind her ear stroking her neck keeping her hand there “I appreciate the lengths you go for me, you could’ve just called if you wanted me here you know?”

Agatha shrugged “you like big gestures, something simple like a phone call would be insulting to your intelligence and that’s something I couldn’t do to you”

“Hmm I do love it when you think of me, it warms my black heart” both women were inches from each other, their favourite positions as of late “does your heart only beat for me?” Agatha whispered and rio nodded “it always has and will continue to do so”

Agatha glanced down at her lips and back up leaning in close kissing the witch softly, something they don’t do that often and that surprised Rio, softness wasn’t in her blood and yet she liked this, she started to reciprocate when a voice broke them apart, your voice

“Hey so before you two start fucking on the kitchen counter can you get this knife out of me, I’d do it but my body is a little numb at the minute”

Rio grumbled giving Agatha one last cheek kiss and turning to you “you have horrible timing Y/n, I preferred you when you were crying and calling me mommy”

You scoffed “like I said before I momentarily passed out, you’re not a mommy at all, why am I numb anyway?”

Rio rolled her eyes and grabbed her knife yanking it out, laughing when you groaned in pain “fuck off Rio I’m still sore” you stood up on wobbly legs heading straight for Agatha and slapped her surprising the witch “never and I mean never use me to get to your girlfriend ever again, send a bat signal or something next time”

Agatha went to slap you back but Rio grabbed her hand stopping her “careful Aggie, you don’t want to anger the demon, she’s worse than me”

The demon smiled turning back around and kissed Rio on the cheek “so what now?”

Rio released Agatha’s hand watching the witch walk around you and stand next to Rio whispering in her ear “what does this demon have on you? Is she a pet? Sacrifice? Your child?”

Her lips grazed her ear making the woman grin “you’re so bad Agatha, I guess you could call her my pet-

“I’ll bite your hand off Videl if you continue that sentence” you growled pushing yourself away from the women “now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go and see my girlfriend, she’s probably on the war path right now, I was under a while”

“Who’s your girl-

A huge blast rang through the house and blasted all three of you towards the ground

The ringing in Agatha’s ears was unbearable, being without her powers was awful, feeling all this pain wasn’t good for her “Jesus Christ I think your girlfriend found us”

You quickly stood up dusting yourself off facing the cause of the damage “honey! I’m okay I promise! You said no more destruction!”

The woman stepped close to the green witch on the ground who was looking up at her and placed her boot on her chest “you promised to take care of her, that was 2 months ago, where the hell were you?!”

Rio stared at the woman “I’ve gotten her back haven’t I? She’s fine, at least she was until you body slammed her into the ground with your powers”

Agatha had finally managed to pull herself together standing up and looking around her destroyed room “great, more cleaning to do”

“Well well Agatha harkness, nice to know you’ve managed to get out of the spell after 3 years”

That voice, that voice made Agatha’s blood run ice cold, it couldn’t be, could it?

Agatha looked up and into the eyes of someone she hadn’t seen in 3 years “Wanda maximoff, so you survived the rock crushing then?”

The scarlet witch smirked “I cannot be killed that easy Agatha you know that”

She rolled her eyes “unfortunately I do know so, the demon is yours then?”

You slid next to Wanda kissing her cheek and wrapping your arms around her waist “she’s mine yes and you decided to take her, for what? To get the tree hugging witch’s attention?”

Rio scoffed “green witch, not tree hugging, now if you two don’t mind I have unfinished business with Agatha here”

Wanda pulled you away whispering in Rio’s ear “we’ll talk later”

“Oh I’m so scared Wanda”

Wanda laughed “you should be”

You and Wanda left the destroyed house and Agatha let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding “can you try and kill me another day please Rio? It’s been a rough day”

“You know I can’t kill you nor can you kill me, I just want to play a little bit, is that wrong?” She glanced down at her lips again and lent in for a kiss “your lips taste so sweet, unfortunately I can’t keep kissing you, it is a shame to stop, you have some redecorating to do it seems”

Rio started towards the door and gave a final glance to her witch “te veo”

Agatha collapsed onto the couch holding her head in her hands and heard a door creaking open “is it safe now Miss Agatha?”

“Sure teen very safe, now help me clean this place up”

“Yes ma’am”

[bitchimasnake-sss]

one last time ft. vinsmoke sanji!

a/n: continuation of my time travel series as asked by anon!! sanji, lost you when you were both 27. now, three years later, aged 30, the cook travels back in time and sees you again. *cue angst* not proofread, im so sorry for mistakes!

warnings: none!! just my crappy attempts of writing angst tbh

"it makes no sense" nami mumbled, peering down intensely at the old cook as if examining her personal lab rat. the alleged thirty year old had materialized in the main room of the going merry through thin air; and nami had almost knocked him out with her staff.

"nami-swan let me-" the man tried to speak but the red-head cut him off, "you ate a devil fruit and you traveled back in time?"

"you're so gorgeous even when you boss me around-""

"sanji." nami cocked an eyebrow.

sanji sighed lightly, trying to reason, "well, i mean i actually ate like just half a bite of it. i don't think this time travel thing is permanent. i'll be out of your gorgeous hair in just a minute"

"no, you being here isn't the issue." nami corrected herself, "i think im just surprised is all. the idea that there exists something like this is just-"

but someone barged into the room before she could finish.

"what the fuck?" the swordsman looked at sanji, taken aback by the sudden blondie appearance, "he looks awfully like the shit-cook."

"it's nice to see you too, moss-head"

"ah-" nami groaned at the swordsman appearance, "well, i guess i'll explain to everybody. out on deck, both of you"

"why are you so tall?" zoro gave the older cook a nasty look.

"zoro, out."

"why is he so tall-"

｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･::･ﾟ☆

"so..." the younger, blonde man asked, "you're me but 30?"

the older man shrugged, "yes, pretty much."

"i cannot believe you committed to the bangs look for over a decade, sanji" you giggled, looking from the older version to the younger one.

"if you like it, then i can keep it for the rest of eternity, my love."

you laughed again, sending the cook an amused look, "sure, i like it."

while the younger cook was swooned at your words, sending you a love-struck gaze. the older was busy contemplating whether he wanted to hug you so hard till his ribs broke down and he disintegrated within you, or if he should keep his distance, saving himself all that hurt.

your hair was choppier and the strands moved gently in the wind, the tresses cashmere kisses against your sun-kissed skin. all the signs of aging were absent from your skin, all those signs of you and him together were gone, just like that. as if you and he hadn't existed at all.

there was no scar on your lips from the time you fell down in the dark while sleepy, no cuts on your arms and legs from battles long gone. every evidence of the life you and sanji had built together was gone, leaving a twenty-three year old you behind.

well, technically that life was yet to come. it would take you and his younger version another five months, 23 days and 6 hours till you both got together. atleast, if his calculations were correct.

it would take you another 9 years, 2 months and 4 days to leave him. he knew those calculations by heart.

and so, sanji held back the urge to ask you if you liked two sugars in your coffee right now too? and did you light up when the moon was out in all it's glory? did your favourite constellation stay the same as years passed you by? did you look the same when you kissed him awake? did-

instead, he said nothing and stared at you, transfixed.

when ussop shook the older cook awake, the blonde man gave the younger crew members a pained smile. and when luffy jumped up and down, asking whether the cook still cooked, sanji found himself laughing and offering to make a meal.

atleast, this way, he could resign himself to an old kitchen, boundless memories and endless suffering, away from your ghastly presence.

the door stood ajar and you slipped inside just as silently like you always did when you wanted to surprise him in the kitchen. he looked up from the chopping board, well-versed with every one of your silent exchanges.

"want some help?" you offered, walking over leisurely and standing opposite to the man on the kitchen island.

the man looked down, focusing on not cutting his fingers up, "uh- no, thanks."

"damn, did you change?"

"hm?"

"where's the added "my love", "mon cheri" or "darling" at the end?" you cocked up an eyebrow, giving him a confused look, "don't tell me you lost those with time, that'll be a real shame."

sanji looked up, dumbstruck at you.

ofcourse he didn't. how could he? how could he when you were all that and more to him. under breathy whispers, loud declarations of love and silent hums in the dark of the night, you were every stringed syllable in every language to him.

he must have been silent for too long cause you shook your palm in front of him, paranoia sewn into your skin, "i mean it's okay if you lost it. like, it's not that big of a deal-"

and sanji laughed.

"excuse me? it's not nice to laugh at a lady."

"you looked so adorable like that." he looked down at the chopped vegetables, hands skillfully adding the veggies to the heated pan. then he looked up through his eyebrows, skillfully avoiding your gaze fully, "you're quite cute, love."

"uh-" your ears went red and you looked away, "thanks? y-you too."

"how have you been, yn?" he looked back at the food, his voice was tender. every hitch of the breath was audible against the backdrop of distant laughs from the crew.

"oh?" you replied shocked. then you smiled, "good. i'm good."

"good?" he repeated, ever so slowly as if turning the word on the tip of his tongue to remember the way you said it.

"yeah, i've been good, sanji."

"i'm glad." he pursed his lips, turning his back to you under the lie of fetching bowls from the cabinet.

"what are you cooking?" you asked, leaning over and peering at the vessel on the stove.

even without turning, he said, "you'd lose balance, careful now."

you marveled at the simmering dish, looking at his back and smiling real big, "you're cooking hand-pulled noodles with broth?! i think its my new favourite dish! i tasted it like a few days ago and i've been dying to eat it againn"

sanji smiled, still turned away from you, "is that so?"

as much as sanji prided himself at his ability to identify you from lightyears apart, at his ability to hear you in the noisiest room, he must have not been paying attention.

because you had sneaked up behind him and pressed yourself against his back, giving him a hug. you smiled gummy against his back muscles, "thankyou! thankyou! thankyouuu!!"

sanji froze under your casual touch. after a second, mindlessly, he lay his bigger hands on top of yours, relishing in the way you felt under him. he closed his eyes, trying to etch the moment in his memories. then he smiled again, promising against the thin air, "i will make you this as many times as you ask me."

"really?" you beamed again, letting go and standing beside him, "promise me?"

"i promise you." he gave you curt nod, melting under every one of your happy dance moves.

"now i would bother you for the rest of our lives." you stuck out your tongue at the blonde man.

"i would rather not be bothered by anyone but you, my love."

"aww-"

"hey geezer." the younger cook stood at the door, eyeing the negligible distance between you and the older man, "get away from yn-chan, you fucking pervert."

"rich coming from you, mr. nosebleed" the older man gave the younger a dirty look.

"HEY THATS NOT MY FAULT"

"SAAAANJI" luffy whined from outside, "ARE YOU DONEEE? WE'RE STARVINGGGG-"

vinsmoke sanji, aged thirty, yelled back "YEAH LEARN TO WAIT SOME MORE."

"YOU'RE SO MEAN SANJI! I MEAN- OLDER SANJI? I MEAN SANJI??- alee? I MEAN THE COOK OF MY SHIP?? NO, THE COOK OF MY FUTURE SHIP-"

"JUST SHUT UP LUFFY." the two blondes yelled in unison and you laughed one last time, lighting up the kitchen on fire.

oh wait, no. that is just the smoke due to the burning veggies in the pan.

well, fuck.

atleast you were laughing. and sanji would have killed entire nations to see that sight again, so, what were a few vegetables for the sacrifice?

[yanderefarm]

for heretics. whb lucifer/male!reader

cw;; torture devices, religion, blood, choking

i just really wanted to write about a heretics fork. i love torture devices they're so fun... let a mans get a little freaky with it

a heretic. a sinner who spoke against god's will, who blasphemed and forsook the creator. the wicked tongue of a serpent should be cut off at the root and the most vile of serpents, the unforgivable sinner should be punished for eternity. lucifer. god's fallen child. his wings should be ripped from his body every day. his chest should be ripped open and ribs cracked exposing his blackened heart. he should suffer.

cold iron digging into his jaw and his collarbone in equal measure while warm hands moved his thighs to spread. his neck was aching from being forced to keep his porcelain neck bared for so long. the pain was irrelevant, certainly not the worst thing he'd ever felt but his muscles did burn. his body burned. every little touch from warm human hands was like a fire, the burn all the more surprising when he couldn't see you doing it. your hands burned like holy fire.

you were like holy fire in this den of sin he'd long since accepted, long since embraced. you were the only thing that made him feel again, the only thing that gave him purpose again. you were everything. your beautiful tears falling down your cheeks were like the sweetest wine. your warm laughter echoing through crumbling halls was like the chorus of angels. your touch was like the last remnants of god's power the only thing that made both angels and devils bend to their knees in admiration. how easy it was to bend to you. how grateful lucifer was everytime you sought him out.

you had sought him out again and now again you were between his large thighs, your fingers reaching to the deepest parts of his core while he wasn't allowed to even see your face. it was cruel but it was what he deserved. you knew what was best for him now, you had decided that he deserved to be punished. he was grateful that you liked his body so much to indulge yourself while punishing him. he was so glad to come undone on your fingers.

words of lust fell off his pink lips with every slow stretch or curl of your fingers. how his pretty voice begged for you to do a little more, give him a little more. your other hand wrapping around his aching cock was almost driving him over the edge. of course you wouldn't let him. he couldn't be angry all he could do was pant like a desperate dog. of course you decided when he got to cum, of course he didn't deserve it.

lucifer's muscles were aching and sore, his thighs trembled around your body trying fruitlessly to close. his neck hurt so much and every roll of his head brought back the sting of the fork, scarlet liquid spilling down his neck and chest. your hands were gone replaced by the wet flat length of your tongue running up his neck. oh how he welcomed the tender kisses to his jaw, how he pushed through the pain to turn his head to try and meet your lips. one of your cruel hands dragged him by his hair down to your blood stained lips. he tasted sweet when it came from your mouth.

"pray."

that was all you said before you released him, his head falling back as gratitude spilled off his equally stained lips. your nails dug into his hips as your cock pressed against the tight ring of muscle, your swollen tip stretching him open more than your fingers could dream. the words thank you left unfinished on his tongue as he groaned loudly. his large hands dug into the silken sheets for support as your cock bullied it's way into his body. the trembling and ache of his muscles burned once again as you stretched him so full. your cock was too big for him and he was so grateful for it.

his eyes rolled back into his head as his drool dripped down the corners of his mouth. your nails were leaving marks in his hips as you squeezed to bruise trying to get enough grip to slam your length fully inside him. your skin smacked against his own as his neglected cock let out a spurt of cum all over his own chest. it was like the whole world was distant and the only sensation was your cock rubbed right past his prostate and and filling his guts. your mocking laugh was like it was in another room and he couldn't even understand the words you said, even the pain of the fork in his skin was so far away.

and then it wasn't. while he was dazed you had drawn your hips back and slammed into him again so hard he came back to his body. he could hear a wet needy scream but he didn't know where it was coming from until he realized it was coming from his own throat.

"fuck- luci, baby, this pussy is so fucking, ngh, tight." your words brought him fully into focus and he felt tears welling up in his eyes.

he was so grateful it was all he could do to babble his thank yous while your cock abused his hole. slamming thrusts that managed to make the entire bed shake, his body moving with their force as if trying to escape. your death grip on his hips had resulted in new scarlet drops dripping down his back while the repeated hitting his head against the head board caused more to fall down his neck and chest. not even mentioning the way his pathetic cock spurted more wasted cum with every thrust.

"fuckin... luci you're making such a mess." you mocked one of your hands going from his hip to wrap around his throat.

the cold metal pressed down against his adams apple making it harder to breathe and causing his pathetic babbling to finally stop. lucifer tried to drag in a ragged breath but you gripped him harder, trying to fully wrap your hand around his thick neck. you said something but he was losing focus again, your frantic slamming against his tight walls melded with the loss of oxygen. your cock hit right against his prostate drawing another distant scream from his body as his spent cock gave a half hearted spurt.

"n-no m-mor-more" one of his hands reached up to claw at the one around his neck fruitlessly.

he didn't hear your response, his vision growing dull as your thrusts grew sloppy. your own thighs were starting to ache now as you reached your edge. you could feel the tight knot in your core ready to burst and the sight of the angel sloppy underneath you was increasing the pressure. you couldn't keep up with long slamming thrusts anymore as your own desperation mounted. you let go of his neck as your hand returned to his hip to aide your short shallow thrusting. your balls slapped against his skin as you tried to bury yourself even deeper inside of him.

his body clenched as another bit of cum dribbled down his cock finally forcing you over your edge. you buried your face in his chest, holding him tight as you continued weakly thrusting. rope after rope of thick cum flooded his guts as you spilled every drop you had into him. you were so blissed out when it was over you laid on him just twitching for a while.

you were ready to go to sleep when you remembered the heretics fork still keeping your barely conscious lover strained. you undid the strap around his neck discarding it somewhere on the nightstand while the angel under you began rolling his head.

"so good for me. such a good boy." you cooed, one of your hands moving up to play with his hair.

"thank you..." he gave you a chaste kiss on the forehead as your eyes started to close.

[thetreefairy]

Could you do another platonic yandere gojo where the reader refuses to call him papa or dad or sensei or anything after he kidnaps them so the reader just keeps calling him gojo? How would he react ?

Post mentioned : A purge with little chances

Warnings: yandere themes, manipulation, silent treatment, purge au, kinda angst? swearing, restraining, gojo hurts reader on purpose, not really explicit so-

Gn student reader, reader does have curly coded hair

Kofi - main masterlist

Dad loves you

Gojo had it all planned out, he would have an adorable child and Megumi would keep them company when he couldn't.

And after Reader's adaption period the other students would be able to visit them too, maybe even taking them out on trips with his other students.

But Reader wasn't doing what he planned,

to be fair, they were stuck on their bed with broken legs and needed to ask him for help on the most basic things. Which, in his mind, was holding back the adaption period.

Reader was quiet and loved being alone, something he found rather adorable.

But Reader still hasn't called him any variation of dad, and even stopped calling them sensei!

So today he got Megumi to come over and try to find out why Reader isn't calling him by his proper title as their yandere caretaker.

"Reader," Megumi started. "Wanna talk?"

Reader looked Megumi, giving him a side eye and ignoring him as well. Reader didn't have the energy to deal with them, they just couldn't.

This caused Gojo to walk over to their bed and pressing on their leg, causing Reader to gasp out in pain. "You will talk to Megumi," He hissed. "I'll go away for an hour, I expect Megumi to tell me how it went."

This caused Reader to glare at him, their eyes full with tears. "How about we do your hair, huh?" Megumi asked. "Teacher has no idea how to take care of it."

This caused Gojo to stick his tongue out as he left and shouted: "Be good!"

And that's how you were now being pampered by your old best friend while he was trying to convince you to at least call Gojo father. You just cried.

"I don't want to acknowledge him as my dad." Reader mumbled. "Teacher has been kind to you, so why don 't you want to?" Megumi asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Are you stupid?" Reader hissed. "He took away my freedom, my choices, this bitch even fucked up my hair while i finally had some type of hair care!"

Megumi rolled his eyes. "You are so petty, you know that this is how the purge goes."

Reader gave him the middle finger, knowing full well he's saying that to pain Gojo in a good light.

And speaking of the devil

"Awhh, Megumi you got Reader's hair to look pretty!" Gojo greeted the two. "You should teach me sometime, or Reader can!"

Reader was still ignoring him, much to his annoyance, and from the look on Megumi's face. It wasn't gonna change soon, so perhaps he needed some drastic manners, maybe he should take away all their freedoms.

"Megumi, thank you for babysitting, I'll take it over." Megumi knew that look on Gojo's face. "Stay calm, they are simply acting out of frustation." Megumi whispered in Gojo's ear as he left.

But he didn't care anymore, he carried Reader to their bed, while their legs were healing, perhaps they shouldn't be. Maybe he should restrain Reader to the point they are nothing but a hopeless baby.

Maybe then they would call him dad or pa.

While reader was ignoring them, he decided to apply pressure to their legs rather severe. "Gojo- Stop!" Reader shouted, breaking their silence while holding back sobs. "Shh." He whispered, Reader was sure their legs broke again.

"Dad loves you, he's just doing this for your safety." He whispered in Reader's ear. "Dad will protect you."

[little-diable]

Bathroom fun - Spencer Reid (smut)

I saw a clip yesterday and had this idea, so I needed to get this out of my system. Pure, filthy pwp. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Spencer gave the reader some crotchless panties to wear for the party they were invited to, some rushed fun takes place in the bathroom.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, somewhat public, only pwp, spanking, dom!Spencer

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader (1k words)

A gasp left her as his hand found her waist, pulling her closer until she could feel his breath falling her neck. It had been a while since they had arrived at the annual summer party, enjoying time with their colleagues and faces they hadn’t seen in a while.

“Are you having fun, baby?” Spencer pressed a kiss to her neck to make goosebumps rise on her skin. (Y/n) could only nod her head while taking another sip of her drink, trying not to embarrass herself with a crowd so close by. A soft whimper left (y/n), rumbling through her as he squeezed her waist again. “My needy girl, tell me, are you wearing them?”

Heat rose in her system, remembering the small box he had pushed into her hands hours ago, crotchless panties he had commented with a simple “You know how much I hate wasting precious time.” Eager as one can be, she had put them on, trying to ignore the unfamiliar sensation as she put on a smile for those who were all too unaware of her and Spencer’s game.

“Of course I am.” It was nothing but a whimper, a sound that made him chuckle with pride thumping through his veins. Spencer slowly let go of (y/n) to take another sip of his drink before he cleared his throat.

“Meet me in the bathroom in five.” Without looking back at her, he walked towards their colleagues, joining in on their conversation as (y/n) found her way towards the big house. By now, she knew the layout by heart, finding her way to the bathroom with trembling things and her breath hitched in her chest.

Only as the door fell shut behind her, locked by her shaking fingers, did (y/n) allow herself to breathe. No matter how long she had been with Spencer by now, she still wasn’t used to his teasing, their back and forth that made her tremble with delight and anticipation.

She ran a hand through her hair, eyes studying her reflection in the mirror while the minutes passed by. The sound of Spencer knocking on the door made her jump, ripped out of her sinful thoughts. Their eyes met the second he stepped into the space, lips finding (y/n)’s for a bruising kiss. He locked the door again, knowing that even though they couldn’t waste much time, he didn’t like taking risks like these.

Spencer pulled away to turn her around, eyes meeting again in the mirror as he pushed her skirt up her waist, groaning at the sight of her bare cunt. The thin material he had bought for her hugged her behind perfectly, and yet he could only focus on the bare part that was aching for his touch.

He freed his cock with skilled movements while she held onto the sink, preparing herself for a quick and rough fuck that would rob her of the ability to walk straight. Spencer spat into his palm to pump his hard cock a few times before he pushed into her tightness. Arousal dripped from her heat, instantly coating his warm skin.

Both moaned in unison as he bottomed out, allowing her to feel him deep inside before he started to move with a rough rhythm. Their bodies met with every thrust, pushed towards the edge as if the Devil was chasing them, punishing the two sinners for giving in to their lust while others were all too close by.

“Christ, I won’t ever get used to how perfectly you fit around me.” His raspy words left (y/n) mewling his name, high on the feeling of his cock ripping her walls apart. Spencer left his marks on her waist with his tight grip, digging his fingers into her skin to keep (y/n) as close as possible, all while she was torn between lust and pain.

“Spencer,” she choked on his name, eyes rolling back into her head as his hand came down on her behind. It was a silent warning to stay quiet, to let him fuck her while he chased both their highs.

“Touch yourself, baby.” (Y/n) struggled to let go of the sink with one hand, clinging to it with the other while her fingers found her pulsing bundle. Another moan clawed through her - a sound he punished her for with his hand striking her warm skin again.

She rolled her head back against his chest with a whimper, eyes squeezed shut as the intense feeling grew heavier and heavier deep inside of her. Her body was littered in goosebumps, fully focused on the feeling thumping through her veins as Spencer fucked her over the edge.

His hand found her mouth to muffle her sounds, keeping her quiet while his hips kept meeting her behind. Spencer’s smirk grew wider, mischievous eyes watching her come undone with a pleasure-drunken expression.

It only took him a few more seconds before he also came, painting her walls white to leave his imprint on her skin. Only then did Spencer let go of her mouth, allowing a soft laugh to leave (y/n) - a sound that turned into a groan as he pulled out of her. Spencer cleaned them before he turned her towards him, lips meeting hers for a soft kiss.

“Careful out there, baby, don’t want you getting hurt when I’ve got some more plans for us.” He squeezed her aching, now covered ass one last time before he stepped away to unlock the bathroom and pull (y/n) out into the empty hallway. And with a knowing smirk growing on both their lips, they couldn’t help but feel excited about the awaiting night.

[ilikecrowns]

Closet

Alessia Russo x f!reader

Reader has liked alessia for as long as she can remember, alas it has always been unrequited, as alessia appears to be straight. That is until one day the news spreads something that she wasn’t ready for.

based on this request here

1k words (sorry it’s so short, i might make a part two)

warnings- none yet again! (i’m good at this)

　　　　　　　･:*+.\(( °ω° ))/.:+

Watching Alessia in training everyday with the most adorable smile that's somehow always present on her face, completely and utterly destroyed me. There wasn't a hand I wanted more to hold, or hair I wanted more to softly stoke whilst laying besides her. Eventually, I decided it was best to get over her.

After all, she was straight, and would never ever want to be with me.

A sharp knocking on the door broke me from my pitiful state as I sat alone on my sofa, long past midnight, caressing a bowl of cookie dough ice cream. The only person I'd ever expect to turn up at my front door was the postman, and even then I probably see him far too often (my online shopping addiction is a matter to discuss on another occasion).

After shooting up from the sofa and practically spilling the whole semi-melted bowl of creamy heaven, I found myself standing at the door. Times like these make me realise a peephole is definitely worth it.

With no other way of knowing who on earth was banging on my front door at the devil's hour, the only thing for it was to open it up.

And there, looking in all her beautiful blonde glory was the one woman I swore to forget.

Alessia damn Russo.

"Hey...." she sheepishly smiled, clutching her arms in a feeble manner.

"Alessia," I stood there shocked, like a prey about to get pounced on. However, this predator was the most stunning, kind and adorable animal you'd ever see.

"I'm... i'm so sorry. I really hope i'm not interrupting you. It's just... I just," she started hyperventilating at this point, tears spilling down her cheeks faster than my hands could catch them.

"Less, it's okay, calm down, what's going on?"

"Someone... someone found me... found me kissing someone at a bar and and and-"

I raised my eyebrows, wondering where on earth this was going. I couldn't hide the sharp pain to my heart I felt as the words 'kissing someone at the bar' gave me, but right then I needed to be there for my friend.

"-and they took a pic and it's everywhere on the internet and now everyone knows, y/n/n, they all know!!"

I just looked at her completely bewildered.

"Everyone knows what, Less?" I never knew kissing someone at a club was the biggest deal in the world, but I guess some crazy fans certainly would find it to be the next focal point of their lives.

"Just... just look." she sobbed again, holding her phone out so I could see the picture she had up on it.

It was Alessia kissing a woman.

Rather awkwardly, I must admit. It looked like the poor thing didn't know her lips were attached to her face and that hands were absolutely not ever allowed anywhere near the person she was practically eating alive.

I raised my eyebrows, not sure whether to laugh at the hilarity of the awful kiss, or stay composed and empathetic for my 'former' crush.

"Honey...." I start, putting a hand onto Alessia's shoulder and offering her a warm smile, "Everything is going to be okay. Have you actually LOOKED at what people have said? You chose the right career to be gay in by the way, good job."

She gasped as soon as the word 'gay' left my mouth.

"Gay? I-i'm not..." she stopped, trying to find the best words as to not offend me, "I really really really just don't want everyone to know."

"What's the main reason behind that, Less?" I grabbed some tissues and dabbed at the tear stains around her eyes, followed by guiding her to my sofa.

"Because!" she exclaimed, getting up almost immediately after sitting down in an angry flourish.

I was almost astonished at the fact I'd completely glossed over the fact Alessia had kissed. a. girl.

"Lessi? if you wanted practice, you could have just asked me, by the way. That kiss looked painful..." I tried to make light of the situation, however soon after her meltdown it may have been.

She stopped her pacing, and turned to look at me.

A sharp blush instantly rose to her cheeks, followed straight after by a curious glint in her eye.

"You... you would do that for me?"

"I-"

"OH MY GOD Y/N I LOVE YOU!" her crying completely ceased, and she grabbed my face into her hands, planting a deep passionate kiss on my cheek.

All I could do was sigh to myself. If only she knew what she was doing to me.

The talented striker then gulped an entire glass of water in less than 10 seconds- which to me was hella impressive- and hastily applied about five layers of lipgloss to her lips.

"Alessia... I don't think this is a very good-" she shut me up with a messy, rushed and extremely, well, awful, kiss.

My eyes shot wide open, not in a million years had I expected my crush to kiss me and for me to feel extremely uncomfortable.

"God, Alessia, please tell me you didn't drink the entire bar," I face palmed, now finally realising how unbelievably drunk she must be to even consider doing something this bold.

"No no I just had a few, now sit still i'm not done!" She shut me up yet again with another bruising kiss, this time she tried sliding her tongue into my mouth which I absolutely was not having when she was so out of it. Plus, I was pretty afraid she'd eat me alive.

I gently pushed her off me, raising my hand to wave it in front of her still closed eyes and puckered lips face.

"Right, it's bed time! We will talk more about whatever the hell just happened in the morning, but for now, you need to rest. And for the love of god never get drunk again."

I wasn't sure how much I meant that last sentence, because no matter how painful that kiss was, I still got to experience what I’d dreamt of for years.

[heizlut]

Me & The Devil

alternative (dual yandere) version here

cw: non-con, dub-con, heavy manipulation, gaslighting, somnophilia, dacryphilia, yandere, DARK CONTENT

this fic is no joke when it comes to darker content, extreme trigger warning. read at your own risk

tags: yandere!dottore, fem!reader, mostly proofread but there still may be some minor errors here and there

word count: 4.5k this is the longest one i’ve written so far.

check out my masterlist here!

꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒷

Finally you have a chance to break free. The sound of your bare feet slap against the cold floor as you try to run for an exit. Your breathing is heavy, teary eyes full of hope thinking that today is the day you can finally escape him. Right before you can reach the exit, a large hand grips your arm tightly, causing you to stumble and fall to your hands and knees. You’re flipped over onto your back with him looming over you with a smirk on his face, “Going somewhere, my love?”. Dottore. How did this even start? When did it even start?

—

You were just a curious akademiya student. Many said you were too curious for your own good but you always brushed them off. You couldn’t help that you were so curious about the things that were forbidden to be researched. The more someone tells you not to do something, the more you want to just say ‘fuck it’ and do it anyways. It didn’t help when you found some curious files and notes left behind from a student named Zandik. After asking around and getting strange looks from others, you were about to give up on this Zandik guy. You bumped into something hard causing you to drop the notes and files you had found and you land hard on your ass. When you looked up, you saw a tall man with blue hair wearing a mask that hid his features.

He didn’t think anything of you at first until he saw what had scattered on the ground. With a smirk, he held out his hand to you, “I apologize. I must not have been paying attention to where I was going.” You grabbed his hand, trying not to wince at the pain from having landed so hard, “I should be the one to apologize. I’m the one who ran into you.” The man laughed it off and bent down to help you gather your papers which caused you to push him away.

Your reaction made him raise an eyebrow under his mask, “What? Do you have something to hide, little one?” You felt your face heat up at the accusation and the nickname. It felt like he could see right through you, “N-no.. It’s just-“ You sighed as you gathered your thoughts. “If you’d like, we could go somewhere else if you’d like to tell me about it?”, he offered with a smile that you couldn’t quite decipher. You nodded and gave a small smile in return, “It would be nice to have someone to share this with. Thank you.”

The man you learned was named Dottore. He listened to everything you explained with just a sly smirk on his face. The mask he wore made it hard for you to decipher his true feelings, but the fact that he had sat there and listened with some sort of intrigue to what you were saying made you feel like you were finally understood. He made no move to berate you for what you chose to have an interest in.

Little did you know that the files and notes you had found were all from him and his previous research from before he was expelled from the akademiya and changed his name. He was more than happy to entertain your curiosity. It shocked you when he offered his hand to you for the second time that day and asked if you would like to pursue your curiosities further with him as your mentor. You stared at him in surprise, then you took his hand. That’s where it all began.

—

At first, Dottore kept some distance from you. You didn’t mind as you were so caught up in finally being able to pursue your true interests. Little by little he began to cut you off from the rest of the world without you paying it any mind. It started with him offering for you to stay one night since it had gotten late. He said he worried about you going home alone in the dark. You naively accepted and soon it became a habit to stay with him after long days of researching and experimenting together. Dottore was good at hiding his true intentions and the dark things he was doing without your knowledge. You had no idea the other types of experiments he conducted. He was so careful to show you only what he wanted you to see.

Next he made an offhand comment about you just dropping out of the akademiya and studying under him full time. He had only said it when you came to his place after yet another tough day at the akademiya. You were going on and on about how you wish you could fully pursue your true interests without interference. After he made the comment about you just dropping out, you gawked at him for a few moments to which he smiled, “It’s all up to you. But just know… You’ll never reach your true potential if you’re trapped under the akademiya’s thumb.” You mulled over his words.

What he said was true. You just wanted your freedom. To do as you pleased without anyone getting in the way or giving you dirty looks or rejecting your proposals time and time again. “I can give you everything you need. All you need to do is say the word.”, is what he said as he watched the gears turn in your head. You looked up at him, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, “I’ll drop out. Just promise me that you’ll help me pursue what I want.”

The smile on his face grew. If you hadn’t been so naive to his real intentions, you would have noticed that his smile held insanity and obsession. He wanted you all to himself and he was finally getting closer to what he wanted.

—

Days turned to weeks, which turned to months. Dottore was everything to you whether you had realized it or not. You had fallen right into his trap. You had become dependent on him, cut off from the world around you. When was the last time you saw the sun or felt it warm your skin? You didn’t really seem to care. You had gotten incredibly far with your research all thanks to Dottore’s help. He gave you everything you needed. Everything you wanted. No questions asked. He never even asked for anything in return.

Now that began to bother you. You felt like you had to repay him in some way but whenever you brought it up, he would brush it off with a laugh and smile saying that seeing you happy with what you were accomplishing together was more than enough. You always failed to notice the way his gaze on you would change when your back was turned to him. The way it travelled down your body, taking in every inch of you, committing it to memory… It was dark and hungry…

You had reached up to grab a new test tube from a shelf you couldn’t quite reach when you suddenly felt hands touch your waist. A hard chest pressed against your back. Hot breath on your neck… “Let me get that for you.” You blush at the closeness. Dottore had never touched you like this. You didn’t see him as anything other than a mentor and a friend. He never made it known that he had felt anything different for you.

You didn’t know whether you liked his touch or closeness or if you wanted to push him away. You were frozen. Conflicted. You snap out of your thoughts when he let out a breathy laugh, the test tube held in front of your face, “Aren’t you going to take it?” You swallow hard and take the test tube from his hands, muttering your thanks.

His hands linger, moving down your body. You swear you could feel something hard poking your ass but you shake your head to push the thoughts away. There’s no way he thought of you like that. No way you thought of him like that. Sure he was handsome in his own strange way but you never really saw him this way. You turn around to move from his grasp only to be pushed further into the shelf, the spare glassware rattled from the impact.

Dottore’s sly smile. The dark look in his eyes. It made you shiver. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, huh? Anything you want to share?”, he was taunting you. You just knew he was. You gently push him away to create distance and he lets you, letting out a small laugh, “You don’t have to tell me. Your face says it all.” Your eyes widen at his words and you quickly make your way back to your experiment table.

—

Nothing else happened for awhile after that. It bothered you. Did he really see you as something more than just someone he was mentoring? You feel yourself grow slick with arousal as you lay in your bed. You kept replaying the way he looked at you, the way he touched you… You let out an annoyed groan as you rub your thighs together to quell the aching need you were feeling. You couldn’t be thinking of him this way. You didn’t even know what your feelings were towards him, let alone his feelings towards you. You let yourself fall asleep, frustrated, sexually and emotionally.

He stood there over your sleeping form. His cock stirring to life and he rubbed himself through his pants at how innocent and soft you looked as you slept. You turned onto your back in your sleep, muttering his name. His eyes squeezed shut as he palmed himself with even more pressure. You had said his name in your sleep.

You must be dreaming about him. Dottore lets out a soft groan of satisfaction. His sweet little student was thinking of him even in their sleep. He pulled his aching cock from his pants, pumping his length over your sleeping form.

Suddenly you let out a soft, breathy moan of his name, causing him to release all over your face with a choked groan of his own. He smirked as he kneeled down next to you, tucking himself back into his pants, and admiring how much prettier you looked with his cum splattered across your sweet face. He takes his finger, running it through his release. Once he gathered some on his finger he gently pressed it into your slightly parted mouth.

He hoped that you would wake up with the taste of his essence still on your tongue. Dottore removed his shirt and used it to gently wipe the remaining cum off your face. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and whispered, “Sweet dreams, little one.”

—

You woke up the next day with a strange taste in your mouth. You swallow a few times to get rid of the foreign taste which doesn’t help. You sigh, pushing yourself up to sit on your bed, your knees pressed tightly to your chest. Flashes of the dream you had the night before flutter through your mind. Images of Dottore touching you even more than he did that day in the lab against the shelves. Images of him kissing your neck and down your body…

The dream felt so real, you swear you could almost feel the lingering touch of his soft lips and calloused hands on your body. You faintly remember when the dream changed to him entering your room, jerking his cock over your body as he came on your face. The strange taste in your mouth comes to mind but you brush it off. It was all just a dream… right?

You let the water from the shower run down your body as you feel yourself starting to overthink everything that had to do with Dottore. He was just your mentor. You had to keep it that way or you may risk him finally kicking you out and leaving you on your own. The thoughts made you realize just how much he consumed your life little by little. You were in too deep to let it all fall apart just because you were confused by your feelings. You needed him.

—

A few days had gone by. Things seemed to have gone back to how they always used to be between you and Dottore. You felt like maybe you were just crazy for thinking he saw you as something more than just his student. Little did you know that Dottore was planning even more deep in his twisted mind. His careful image and manipulation guided you exactly where he wanted you. Dependent. Needing him. For everything. He wanted your thoughts to be on him. Only him.

As time went on, you noticed the little lingering touches he gave you. The way he would press himself against you. How close he would get, just inches from your face with that sly smile on his own mostly hidden face. It was driving you insane. You were so confused. Did you want him as more than a mentor to your forbidden research? No. You couldn’t. You didn’t want to.

You sat across from Dottore, pushing the food around your plate with your chopsticks, caught up in your own thoughts. He studied you curiously, wanting to pry into your mind, “Is everything alright? You know you can tell me anything. I’ll listen.” You snap out of your thoughts, looking up at him with a dazed expression, “What are we doing…” He tilts his head slightly at your words, “What do you mean by that? We are research partners. I am your mentor. Does that not satisfy you?” Your face heats up, “N-no.. I-I mean it does satisfy me. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. You didn’t have to do all this-“

Before you could continue rambling he cuts you off, his palms pressed against the table as he leans over it. So close to you now… “Always so humble and sweet…” Dottore tucks a strand of your hair behind your hair and leans even closer, “Too bad I’m not satisfied.”

His words chill you to the bone. You’re frozen in place as he smirks, “Be mine. I can give you even more than what I give you now. After all… it’s only fair.. You owe me so much…” You push him away, quickly standing from your seat, “No.” He looks up at you, a dangerous glint in his eyes as a distorted smile creeps onto his face. He stands up, walking closer to you. Your heart is pounding, threatening to break free from the confines of your chest. “No?”, He laughs, but there is no humour in it. “You think you can tell me no?”

Dottore moves to caress your cheek, but you grip onto his wrist before he can. He huffs out a laugh, a crazed look in his eyes. He grabs both your wrists in one hand, pinning you to the wall, “You think you can stop me? You think I don’t know about the way you think about me? The sweet little dreams you have of me…” Your face pales. How did he know about the dreams…?

He now caresses your cheek with his free hand as if you were truly his lover all this time, “You’re easy to read, little one…” You try to squirm from his grasp only to make his smile grow wider, “You’re not going to leave me. Not now…” He leans in close to your ear and whispers, “Not ever.” He nips at your earlobe, pulling a gasp from your throat. You don’t want this. Maybe you do… Maybe he deserves it after all he’s done for you… No. No. Stop thinking like this. Suddenly you feel dizzy. Was it the way he had you pinned against the wall? How close he was? No. He had drugged your portion of the food. He smirks as your vision begins to fade to nothingness. “Mine.”

—

Your eyes slowly blink open. You move to stretch, only to find that your wrists have been cuffed to a metal bedpost. You look down and sigh in relief to see that you still had the clothes on that you had the night before. That was last night… right? Your heart jumps in your chest when Dottore appears in the room with a tray of food. “What’s going on? Please let me go, I promise I’ll do whatever you want”, you plead desperately. He just smiles and sets the tray down on the nightstand by the bed before sitting down on the bed. He reaches out and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, “I’m afraid I can’t do that, little one.”

A tear slips down your cheek as you turn from his gaze. He clicks his tongue as he gently wiped the tear away, “Now, now. There’s no need for tears. Haven’t I treated you so well? What is there to cry about?” His saccharine voice made your heart ache. You turn to face him again, looking at him with glassy eyes and bottom lip trembling. Dottore tilts his head as he studies your expression.

He admits to himself that the sight stirs something within him and the feeling was not sympathy. He reaches for the bowl of warm soup on the tray and scoops a small bit into the spoon and holds it to your lips, “Be careful now. It’s still a bit hot.” You look from the soup spoon to his eyes, then back down. You give in and part your lips slightly. Your obedience bringing a smile to his face as he feeds you the first spoonful, “Such a good girl.”

You sputter from the heat, the soup dribbles down your chin causing Dottore to click his tongue again in annoyance as he slams the bowl back down onto the tray, “What a waste.” His voice is sharp and it feels as though it cuts right through you. Before you can apologize and beg for another chance, he begins tearing open your shirt; buttons flying across the room. He cups one on your breasts as he looks into your frightened eyes, then he squeezes.

You can’t help but bite down on your bottom lip as a sick sense of pleasure washes over you. Dottore chuckles softly at your change in demeanor and begins pinching your pebbled nipple between his fingers, “See? You like it…” You shake your head in defiance but he quickly grabs your throat with his other hand, “Don’t try to deny it.” The hand toying with your breasts travels down to your thigh and one finger presses against your soaked panties.

Dottore smirks at you as he moves your panties to the side and presses down on your clit with his thumb, drawing a small whimper from you, “Your little cunt is so soaked, it’s just begging for me to claim it.” You can’t help the tears that slip down your cheeks. You feel so ashamed for enjoying his touch when you felt that you shouldn’t be. You feel like you’ve been used this whole time. Was his true goal to mentor you or did he just want your body…to make you his?

Dottore leans in and licks the tears from your cheek as he slips a finger into your wet cunt. A shiver racks your body from both actions, letting out a quiet moan. He begins pumping his finger in and out in a slow, torturous way as he watches your face twist in both pleasure and disgust. His voice is low and sultry as his hot breath tickles your face, “You’ve thought about me doing this to you before, haven’t you? What a sweet little student you are… Here I was trying to be your mentor and you were thinking filthy thoughts about me…” Dottore lets out a devious chuckle when he feels your walls clamp down on his finger.

“For someone who doesn’t want this, you seem to be enjoying yourself so far”, he teases. He adds a second finger and begins to pick up his pace; his thumb rubbing circles on your clit. You try to hold back your moans but fail. It feels too good even though you’re trying so hard to hate it all. Dottore lets go of your throat and graos your chin, tilting your head slightly to the side. He licks a line up your neck then begins nibbling and sucking at your sensitive pulse point. He’s determined to leave his mark on your body to show you that you now belong to him and him alone.

The way his fingers pump in and out of you, his harsh kisses to your neck, and his thumb pressing and circling your clit bring you closer to orgasm, “G-gonna cum”, you mumble out as you moan. Dottore immediately stops what he’s doing, pulling his fingers away from your core and his lips away from your neck. More tears fall as you groan in dissatisfaction of having your orgasm completely ruined. He simply laughs and presses a kiss to your cheek, “Oh I apologize~ Did I ruin your climax?” His voice was dripping with sarcasm. He was immensely satisfied by your reactions and the tears you continue to spill.

Dottore begins unbuttoning his own shirt as he stares down at you, “You cum when I say you can cum. Besides… You’re only allowed to cum on my cock.” His words alone make your eyes roll back and your walls clamp down around nothing. He discards his shirt and tugs his pants down just enough to free his long, girthy cock. He gives it a few pumps as you watch, completely mesmerized yet terrified at the same time. There was no way you could take his cock in your pussy.

Dottore smirks at your expression and leans down, positioning his cock to your entrance, “Don’t worry, my love~ I’ll make it fit.” You try to move away from him, but your handcuffed wrists and your position on the bed make it impossible. He leans forward, rubbing his aching cock against your soaked cunt, letting your arousal coat his length. You let out a small whine when the head of his dick catches against your clit, your hips move upwards on its own accord. Dottore raises an eyebrow under his mask as his lips curve up, “Oh? Looks like someone wants more.” He brings his lips to your ear and whispers, “Beg for it. Tell me you want my cock inside this pretty little pussy of yours.”

You feel your heart flutter, unsure if it’s from fear of what he’s asking you to do or if you truly wanted this. You shake your head slightly which angers him yet again. Dottore grips your jaw tightly, his lips inches from yours, “Say it.” You let out a broken cry and his grip tightens further, “P-please.. Put i-it in…” His demeanor shifts back to satisfaction, “Put what in~?” You let out a shaky breath, “Y-your c-cock.. Put your c-cock in my pussy, p-please.”

He releases your jaw and presses a kiss to your forehead, “There you go. That wasn’t so hard now was it~?” You sniffle and shake your head. Dottore caresses your cheek gently, “This might hurt.” Without another word, he pushes his thick length inside your tight walls. Your cry morphs into a moan when he hits that spongy spot inside you in just the right way. Tears spill down your cheeks yet again, the pain and pleasure of having him inside you was incredibly intense. Seeing your tears only turned him on even more.

Dottore begins thrusting deep and hard with reckless abandon. The way your gummy walls gripped his cock was intoxicating to him. He needed more. You struggle against your restraints, desperate to grab hold of him as he battered your insides. Heavy breaths mix with moans and grunts as you both begin to lose yourselves in this moment. You can’t deny the way his cock made you feel despite wanting to push him away in disgust. You were disgusted by him and even more disgusted by yourself for finding any ounce of pleasure from what was happening to you.

Dottore’s thrust start getting sloppy as he gets closer and closer to orgasm, “Cum with me. Cum on my cock.” His voice comes out ragged and breathy as sweat beads on his forehead. As much as you wish you could stop yourself, you find yourself coming undone all over his cock. Your walls clamp down on his length, milking his own orgasm as he spills his sticky seed in your pussy. Dottore’s cock throbs inside of you as you both ride out the intense orgasm.

“You’re mine now. You’re never going to leave me. I’m going to pump you so full of my cum each day you won’t ever be able to leave”, his dark words haunted you as he pulls his cock out of you and tucks himself back into his pants. He takes a moment to admire just how ruined you look and his lips curve into an uncharacteristically sweet smile, “Beautiful…” he mutters. Dottore gets up from the bed and opens the handcuffs. Your arms fall to your sides and you rub at the chaffed skin of your wrists. Dottore holds his hand out to you, “Come. Let’s clean you up.” You hesitantly take his hand and follow him on shaky legs to the bathroom where he takes his time bathing you and giving you such care it makes you dizzy.

—

Weeks have gone by since the first time he forced himself on you. Not a day went by where he didn’t repeat his actions, making sure to stuff you so full of cum that it leaked from your sore pussy. This day in particular, although your wrists were cuffed yet again, Dottore didn’t cuff you to the bed. After he took care of you, he left you in the room alone. It took you a few minutes to realize that you weren’t attached to the bed. You get up from the bed and quietly make your way to the open bedroom door, peeking your head out to see if you could see or hear him.

You let out a breath and begin making your way down the hall as quietly as you possibly can. You didn’t know what he would do to you if he found you out of your room. Soon your eyes fall to a door further away that seems to have sunlight pouring out from under it. Your eyes well with tears and you no longer care about being stealthy.

Finally you have a chance to break free. The sound of your bare feet slap against the cold floor as you try to run for an exit. Your breathing is heavy, teary eyes full of hope thinking that today is the day you can finally escape him. Right before you can reach the exit, a large hand grips your arm tightly, causing you to stumble and fall to your hands and knees. You’re flipped over onto your back with him looming over you with a smirk on his face, “Going somewhere, my love?”

꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒷

a/n: honestly if you read this all the way through, i am sending a billion kisses to you through my phone. no i will not pay for your therapy, sorry

[pvrkacciosan]

These Hugs of Yours

A/n: this is the third F1 Post, after a received over 500+ notifications in under 24h after posting my initial first two F1 posts, I'm not used to this attention, but I am so appreciative of it, so thank you to all you lovely human beans who have been leaving notes and re-blogging.

Synopsis: Reader has endo, and its that time of the month, to make matters worse, you must educate your boyfriends on how to help

Pairing: Pierre Gasly X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Details of pain, mention of severe period symptoms, Vomiting, slightly clueless Pierre, Endometriosis , Swearing, french terms of endearment (google sourced)

Word count: 1.3K

There was nothing else but the overpowering pain that shot through you,

Everywhere, it was everything you could feel, stemming from the source; Your uterus. Which seemed insistent and rather quite content on ending you both.

The cramps were pulsating and had you curled into a ball on the top of your bed, with the lights switched off to try and salvage yourself as the headache split through you.

The painkillers you took about half an hour ago had little effect, as they usually did. As useful as a chocolate fucking fire guard.

You could faintly hear the noise of keys outside your apartment door, and the shuffle of shoes being toed off at the entrance way.

"ma chère"

You couldn't bring yourself to utter a response, instead rolling slightly, you stuff your face further into the comfort of the plush pillow, muffling out your whole expression.

You could hear Pierre as he moved about no doubt, trying to seek you out in your usual spots, you had only been with him for a few months, but ever time you were visited by you period, he had been away from home. Leaving you to deal with the devil herself.

As the haze of your pain cleared for a second, you could just make out the noise of his footsteps getting closer, the door swung.

"ma chère?" Pierre asked, concern lacing the term of endearment he insisted on calling you.

The lights were flicked on, and even Pierre couldn't miss the distinct whimper of pain that mewled from you, the sound muffled into the surface of the pillow.

"Y/n" his tone was more serious, he padded towards your side of the bed, kneeling onto the mattress so he hovered above you.

You lay slightly angled away, Breathing labour to try and ease through the pain as it began to wreak havoc through your body once more, the stabbing running up your spine now,

Pierre gently reached over to brush the hair away so he could see your face,

"Baby, whats wrong?" he switched to English, doubting you would comprehend French when in this much pain, the grimace on your face made the Frenchman panic slightly yet he didn't move, only brushing the side of your face, tracing a thumb down your cheek bone.

As the pain traveled- a current of chaos, the pulse of pain in your back always made you nauseous and when you felt the burning at the back of your throat you sprung up, Pierre light quick reaction time allowing him to manoeuvrer out your way as you shot off the bed and towards the bathroom joined to your room.

Throwing yourself onto the tiled floor, you felt the jolt of pain shoot up your knees as they collided harshly with the floor, you stuck your head in the toilet bowl as the contents of your stomach came up.

Over the noise of your own retching you could hear your boyfriend's panicked voice as he rambled small amount of french mutterings under his breath as he moved to you.

Finally aware of his approach you tried to kick out at the door to shut it on him,

"No, Y/n," he stopped the door and moved to be beside you on the floor,

Pierre began to rub soothing circles onto the middle of your back, the repetitive motion gave you something to focus on,

"I don't want you to see me like this" heat bloomed in your cheeks,

Pierre shifted so he sat with you body between his legs, having him close eased your nerves slightly,

"I'm not going anywhere"

but the pain waved back again, you had a second to cry slightly before you were throwing up once more, his hand never once leaving the spot at your back,

Once you finally finished, stopping your hand from shaking when you placed them against his thighs, which hugged you closer.

Pierre gently pulled you back until you where pressed to his chest, the pain had exhausted the energy in you, so when your own head fell back to rest on his shoulder you let a sigh escape your lips,

"chère?"

Shaking your head, "It isn't usually this bad"

Pierre shifted at the slight detected of the quiver in your voice, sounding a second from breaking, when you tilted you head to peer at him from the corner of your eyes you found him in thought as he watched you,

"Its my period, Pierre"

His puzzlement dissipated and he rocked you both slightly, waiting on the floor with you still hugged to his chest.

There was silence until he finally whispered,

"What... what am I supposed to do?"

Sitting up away from him, you turned to meet his gaze, you faintly caught the movement of his hand as it drifted towards you stomach, Placing it there, the warmth of his hand under your shirt, well his shirt, was like bliss, he began to gently message the skin over your womb,

"You don't have to do anything, Pierre"

He shot you an offended expression,

"Its my job to take care of you, so what can I do?"

You had to squeeze your eyes shut, as another wave of pain began to rise slowly inside you,

"I could get you pregnant." Your eyes snapped open at his suggestion, his statement was so forward that you ignored your pain altogether for a moment.

"That way you might get nine months of relief" his reasoning made you giggle, this god send of a man, who had completely flipped your life upside down, who you one day say yourself potentially starting a family with, had suggested pregnancy as a way to avoid your period. As though it hadn't its own flurry of symptoms and pains, though you suspected he wasn't the first man on earth to make the suggestion, or the last.

"I think some of your hugs might suffice for now"

Pierre nodded, his cheeks a deep red.

"I'll emm.. I'll let you clean up, " he pushed up from the floor, "Are you okay to stand?"

Gratefully taking the hand he extended to you, you rose up off the floor trying to hide the wince when the pain bolted from you once more, easing your weight onto the side of the sink, you nodded for him to leave, he shuffled out leaving you.

Brushing your teeth and rinsing out your mouth and splashing your face quickly, you made way back into your room,

You could hear Pierre on the phone to someone in the hall, following the sound of his voice, the living area of your apartment was open and warm, the light glow of a candle lighting up the corner from where Pierre had lite it.

Seeing you wander in, he ended the call,

"Who was that?"

"Just work, they wanted me to come in an look over data"

Stopping dead in your tracks, you shot a deadpanned expression at him, "Pierre.."

"No, I have far more important things right here" he extended both arms, gesturing you towards him. Normally you would have protested but as the pain began to swell once more, you made for the couch,

His whole body had engulfed yours, just as you liked, his chin nuzzled against the crown of your head. Everything about this felt right, despite the pain; you could feel the exhaustion taking over, eyelids growing heaving.

"You never said no" Pierre mumbled into your hair, where he left a round of soft kisses, moving to press his lips to your temple, they were warm and gave you something to focus on besides the pain.

"Hmm?"

"About a baby."

"Make me a Gasly first, then we can have that discussion."

There had been a time in your life, where you would never dream of marrying a man had had only been in your life for a few months, but Pierre seemed to make the exception.

Your Boyfriends only answer was to tug you closer into him, and kiss your temple, settling to simple enjoy the feel of your body pressed to his.

He fully intended to take you up on that one day.

[carmyberzattosjournal]

Entry 15: You Good, Chef?

GIF credit: @carmen-berzattos

Bearblr Promptober Day 15: Free Space aka Carmy Has Girlfriend Brainworms

Summary: Carmy can't stop thinking about his girlfriend (who he calls Darling) being cute in the morning when he left for work, and it's causing so many problems.

Warnings: Swearing, mentioned panic attack (no active panic attack in this one), mention of The Devil (aka Chef David), sleepy bean fem reader who is a trauma surgeon, snuggling Carmy's shirt for comfort, she/her pronouns, fluff, feat. Nat, Syd, Richie.

Notes: All journal entries will be titled as such and tagged with #cb journal.

This is a two-parter. The second part is here.

Thank you for reading. Thank you to @carmenberzattosgf for putting together this prompt list.

Also, if random letters or words are white instead of the colors they should be, that's Tumblr being dumb, I've been fighting it for days.

15 Oct 2024

I just had the hardest fucking day at the restaurant and it’s not even because we were doing badly; it’s because I couldn’t stop fucking thinking of Darling.

She was still sleeping when I left. Curled up into a cute little ball under the comforter, just her hair poking out. I grabbed the blanket in the living room and draped it over her as well to stave off the chill that’d creep in since I wouldn’t be around to be her personal heater, and it, unfortunately, woke her up just enough to start feeling around the bed for me.

“Hi, baby girl,” I whispered. She blinked and squinted at me through the darkness. “I’m heading to work. You can go back to sleep.”

She made a discontented noise and mumbled something.

I leaned in. “Hm?”

“Shirt?”

Something in my chest fluttered. “You want my shirt?”

She nodded, groaned sleepily as she reached for my pillow and dragged it under the blanket. I grabbed my t-shirt off the edge of the hamper and gave it to her. She clumsily draped it over the pillow, wrapped her arms around it, and buried her face in it, letting out a soft, satisfied sigh once she’d settled.

The sight of her nuzzled into my shirt, only dozing off when she could be enveloped by my scent? I didn’t think I was the kind of person who could be fucking feral over something, but I am fucking. Feral. Over it. I don’t know what’s come over me. It’s driving me insane. I can’t stop fucking thinking about it. It’s somehow like an earworm I can’t shake or like an image frozen in time that I can’t stop seeing when I blink, but it’s worse because I can’t fucking listen to a song or look at a stupid photo in a cookbook to get it out of my head! It won’t leave me alone! I was in the middle of vegetable prep—this was super early, Syd had just come in and was putting her apron on—and I swear to God, I froze in place because the thought of Darling nuzzling into my t-shirt took over every fucking particle of my brain. I got that deep, sinking heat of arousal in the pit of my stomach while at work, this is insane, what is going on with me?

“You good, Chef?” Syd asks.

I can’t even remember what I said to her, but it must’ve been good or bad enough that she got straight to her prep. I didn’t even make it through dicing another onion before I had to step out in the back alley to get some cold air on my face. I was shaking. I was fucking shaking. Part of me wanted to call Darling. It was like this itch deep in my brain, somewhere I couldn’t reach, and I wanted to hear her voice. I wanted to hear her call me sweetheart again. I wanted her hands in my hair, on my skin, wanted to taste her mouth, hear her whisper “I love you” in my ear as she unraveled. I wanted her to pull my hair, why did I want her to pull my hair? But she slept in on her days off, and I couldn’t even try to rouse her from the sleep she so desperately needed to keep functioning. It felt selfish. A spark of pain on the back of my neck brought my attention back to the present, and I realized, with mild horror, that I’d dragged my nails across my skin much like she did to my back or chest when she had a particularly good orgasm.

Shit. Fuck. That’s going to be bright red in a few seconds.

I heaved a breath and headed back inside.

“You sure you’re good, Chef?” Syd asked the moment I came back in.

“What’s wrong? Why is he not good?” Nat?

“The fuck are you doing here?” I asked.

She appeared from the office. “Good morning to you too.” Held up a manilla file. “Quarterly tax shit. I need some signatures. Why are you not good?”

“I’m fine. Give.” I held a hand out for the file.

Sug took entirely too long to hand it to me. “She told me ab—”

“I know, she asked me first. Not talking about it.” I flipped through the papers for all the yellow flags marking where I needed to sign or initial.

“You really should talk—”

“I’m scheduled for a psychological evaluation at University Hospital, and they’ll probably make a referral to trauma therapy.”

“Should I be hearing this?” Syd asked.

Sug. “I don’t know?”

Me. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

Sug drew in a breath to say something.

“I’ve already been approved for the financial assistance to reduce the cost of healthcare.” I passed the file back to her. Got back to the onions.

She blinked at me. Did she forget I was her brother?

“That-that was quick.”

I nodded. “She’s almost as quick as you.”

Syd. “She convinced you to go to therapy?”

“I didn’t need much convincing.”

She chuckled. “In what universe…?”

“The one where I had such a bad panic attack that both of us were convinced that I was dying. No, I’m not gonna field questions about it, get back to work.”

Syd’s smile slid off her face. “I wasn’t going to ask!”

“I mean Sug.”

Sugar scoffed. “I didn’t say anything!”

“You were about to.”

Sug crossed her arms. “You’re in asshole mode today, I see.”

“When am I not?”

“When you’re with your girlfriend,” Syd spat. She didn’t need to say it with an attitude. Or maybe she did, honestly; Syd’s right more often than she’s wrong. And she still had the right to be bitter about shit I refused to apologize for. This is easy to say now, at the eleventh hour while I write this down, but it was impossible to say when standing in that kitchen on that day, 2 hours into having Darling brainworms eating holes in my gray matter. Maybe it was because I felt so off, but I fired back with something I definitely shouldn’t’ve said.

Or maybe I should’ve. It got me to say the thing I should’ve said to her months ago.

Oh, look, God being a sadist again. Who would’ve thought?

“The girlfriend you got annoyed with and made feel unwelcomed, remember?”

Sydney’s face contorted into a grimace. “Excuse me, you were shirking your responsibilities here and leaving me to do it all myself after telling me you had my back.”

Sugar had a much more reasonable, “Where the fuck did that come from?”

“Sydney, I couldn’t fucking breathe,” I groaned.

Her face went sober again. It always scares me when that happens.

Words I needed to explain away that blank face refused to leave my throat.

I thought, at that time, that what I needed to do was get deeper into the work, just like I did in New York. Just like I did when Mikey pushed me out of The Beef. That the agony closing in from all directions could be staved off by putting my head down and doing the thing I wanted to do at all—opening my own restaurant—and submerging myself in the production of critical acclaim after critical acclaim because as the awards and accolades stacked up, I could use them as ammunition against The Devil’s voice in my head. Against my own voice. Against the voices of a thousand nameless, faceless people who, in one way or another—often in dozens of ways—crushed any sense of my self-worth under their boot-heels because their best defense against their own cruel internal critics happened to be a really good offense. I fashioned myself into a mosaic of shattered glass to go back to Mikey, to throw reams of approval at him (and at ma and at Sugar—because they were also caught in the backdraft, such is the curse of being a fucking Berzatto), but there was one last boot heel for me to be crushed under, and it happened to be at the end of a gun barrel on State Street Bridge.

Because God’s a sadist, remember?

“I need you to explain that, Carmy,” Syd said.

But you can submerge yourself too deep. And you can start to drown. And when you start to drown, you cling to whatever you can see. Fuck a plan, I didn’t even know what to do to stop being waterboarded by the hell of my own making, and I didn’t know there was a way out of the water, so yes, Syd, yes, I fucking bailed on you and I fucking left you to do it all yourself and I fucked up at every opportunity and I forgot to fucking call the fridge guy but Syd, you have to understand.

Then Sugar, in her small voice. “Yes, please explain, Bear.”

I couldn’t. Fucking. Breathe.

“I don’t have the words to,” I mumbled.

Nat put her hands on my shoulders, leaned down into my view. Half-whispered, “Are you okay?”

I told her to ask me tomorrow.

Mercifully, neither of them pestered me about it and let me get back to prep without disturbing me.

…..

Early in the afternoon, Richie came in and noticed the scratches. What with him being a lanky fuck and all.

“Good morning, everyone—Yo, did your girl get you last night?” He chuckled. Tugged at the back of my apron.

“Nope, my anxiety did this morning, thank you for that.”

He didn’t say another word either.

As we got closer to service, it got worse. Her smile, the scent of her shampoo, her fingernails, painted in oxblood, dragging down my forearm, the soft, wet heat between her thighs, her giggle, her hand ghosting up my abdomen to then press ice to my chest—it kept invading every sense. I could hear, feel, smell, touch, and taste her, I could fucking taste her, and I kept fucking up my counts, I lost track of time twice and Syd had to call out time to service. I grabbed a quart of ice and stepped out again, trying to recompress. Grabbed a fistful of ice cubes and squeezed them.

“Chef, you’re not okay.” Syd again. She followed me.

I drew in a sharp breath to retort that I was fine, but the words got caught in my throat. I could hear Darling talking to me. Breathe, sweetheart. Breathe, baby... That’s it. There you go… Let’s try to recover. I huffed. Shrugged.

“No. No, Syd, I’m not.”

“Do you need to step out?”

No, I don’t, fuck you. “I-I should probably step out, shouldn’t I?”

“That is the agreement we made, yeah. I’m not doing a dinner service with you wired to the gills.”

I nodded. My hand was going numb from the ice.

I told you, God’s a fucking sadist.

(To Be Continued)

[deliciousangelfestival]

Nothing Has Changed - 13

Summary: Returning home for peace, you're faced with your tormentor, Bucky Barnes, who is now involved in your family's business.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Warning: Angst, Tragedy.

Author Note: So... I wrote the story outline until the ending. I didn't expect the story to turn dark. Prepare yourself.

Nothing Has Changed - Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 💖💖💖

“I had a miserable life when I lived here,” you said, your voice trembling with old resentment.

Bucky’s eyes softened as he listened. He took a step closer, his shoulders slumping. “You’re hurting. I get it.”

He touched his chest, his fingers pressing against the fabric as if trying to reach his heart. “But… it’s not only you.” His voice broke slightly, and he looked down, struggling to maintain composure. “Me too.”

He ran a hand through his hair, his movements agitated. “That’s why I’m doing this,” he continued, his voice low and earnest. “I’m trying to fix all the pain we both caused.” He looked into your eyes, his expression pleading. “I need to make things right.”

You watched him, torn between your anger and the vulnerability he displayed. His words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, both of you stood silently, understanding shared suffering.

Flashback Start

Growing up, Bucky never felt the warmth of a real family. His father, Alex, was distant, never saying a word to him, never laughing, never making silly jokes, or even getting angry. It was as if Bucky didn’t even exist in his father’s eyes.

Lydia was always the one to initiate conversations at home, but Alex only responded with monosyllables: ‘Yes,’ ‘No,’ and ‘Just go by yourself.’ He rarely stayed home, often spending his nights at the construction office.

The only time Alex seemed to notice Bucky was when he got hurt. Bucky vividly remembered the first time he felt his father’s care was when he fell from the playground. That moment stood out, making Bucky believe that, perhaps, his father still cared for him. But Lydia noticed it too.

From then on, Lydia started orchestrating accidents to make Bucky get hurt just to garner Alex's attention, trying to fabricate a close-knit family facade. For a while, Bucky didn’t find it strange because he finally received attention from both his parents. Then one day, he fell down the stairs, even though he was sure he had been careful.

While he was resting, Bucky overheard a heated argument between his parents. Alex’s voice echoed through the house, filled with anger and frustration. “You’re an insane woman, hurting your own kid?” he yelled.

Bucky’s nanny had witnessed the incident. She saw Lydia push Bucky down the stairs, and the look on Lydia’s face had been terrifying, like a devil’s. When Alex came home, the nanny told him everything. The truth about Lydia’s actions deepened Alex’s hatred towards his estranged wife.

When Bucky got sick, his father never visited him. Weak and confused, Bucky asked Lydia, “Mom, why doesn’t my father like me?”

Lydia hugged him tightly. “Sweetie, your father loves us, but he’s like this because of that woman.”

“That woman?” Bucky asked, not understanding what his mother meant.

He started to learn the truth when he overheard his father one day. “Why is she suddenly sick? Send her to the city,” Alex said, his voice stressed and weary. He threw himself into a chair, mentioning another woman’s name—someone who wasn’t Lydia.

Bucky didn’t fully grasp the situation, but he noticed his father coming home even later than before. One day, he heard his father scream when that woman died. Alex drowned his sorrows in alcohol, becoming a shadow of himself.

Young Bucky, filled with confusion and pain, found it easy to blame someone else for his father’s misery. His resentment grew until one day, tragedy struck again. Alex died in a car accident.

At the funeral, guests offered their condolences to Lydia, but no one paid much attention to Bucky. Even if they did, he didn’t understand the meaning of death. So, he waited outside and saw a thin, ghostly man from a Christmas movie—it was Tom. With him was a little girl peeking from a window near the funeral home.

Lydia suddenly appeared beside Bucky. “You see that man and the girl?”

Bucky nodded.

“That’s the husband and daughter of the woman who made your father hate us,” Lydia said, her voice dripping with bitterness.

Bucky clenched his fists, his young heart filling with hatred. From that day, he despised you. He noticed you weren’t close with Tom but didn’t seek his attention like Bucky did with Alex.

Bucky started bullying you, finding a twisted sense of superiority. His friends joined in, making it worse. For a kid, it felt powerful to look down on someone.

When you left with Ransom, Bucky felt an unexpected emptiness. He thought you would realize Ransom was a jerk and come back, but you didn’t. He began to wonder why he missed you.

Was it because he lost his scapegoat, or was it guilt? The guilt of making you leave town gnawed at him.

One day, he learned that Lydia had lied. All her stories were lies. Your mother had never done anything to Alex. It was just that his father still loved her. The weight of guilt and the sins he committed against you ate him alive. He couldn’t sleep or eat and eventually sought therapy.

Bucky’s voice trembled with a mix of anger and hurt as he confronted his mother. “Why did you do that? Why did you lie about everything?”

Lydia’s face twisted with a blend of defiance and bitterness. “Because I’m the victim in this loveless marriage. You have no right to be mad at me.”

Bucky’s frustration erupted. “I’m allowed to be angry! You made me believe your lies, and because of that, I made someone’s life miserable.”

Lydia’s slap was sudden and sharp, stinging Bucky’s cheek. He recoiled, his face burning with pain both physical and emotional. His eyes widened in shock, his expression a mix of disbelief and deep hurt.

“I gave everything to your father!” Lydia’s voice was a mix of anger and desperation. “My family business, my money. But that man only had eyes and a heart for that woman. To him, I was less than a bug.”

Bucky’s fists clenched at his sides, his shoulders shaking with the effort to control his rage. “So you still don’t feel guilty for lying to me?”

Lydia’s eyes were wild, her face streaked with tears. “Why? Why should I feel guilty?” she screamed, her voice cracking under the weight of her own grief. “I sacrificed everything for that ungrateful man!”

“Because I’m your son!” Bucky shouted back, his voice breaking. “You gave birth to me! You should feel ashamed for using me as a pawn in your twisted games.”

Lydia’s face contorted with a mix of pain and anger. She grabbed at her own hair, her body trembling as she cried. “Are you ashamed to have me as your mother? You have everything—status, money! That’s why you were the popular kid at school. Everyone envied you!”

Bucky’s eyes flashed with a mix of fury and sadness. “You think that’s a justification? You think all your lies and manipulations are okay because I had status and money? You don’t understand the damage you’ve caused!”

Lydia’s sobs grew louder, her body slumped as if the weight of her own actions was finally crashing down on her. She looked at Bucky with a broken expression, her tears mingling with the anger still in her eyes.

Bucky turned away, his own tears threatening to spill. The air between them was thick with unresolved pain and regret. He felt the crushing weight of their fractured relationship, knowing that no amount of words could undo the damage that had been done.

He had made your life hell for something you didn’t do. The realization tormented him.

After graduating and returning to town, Bucky decided to make a difference. The first thing he wanted to do was apologize to you. But when he visited Tom, you never came home. He saw how Tom lived and the state of the funeral home and decided to help. He also planned to build a new hospital in town because the lack of medical facilities had contributed to your mother’s misdiagnosis.

Then, out of nowhere, you came back.

Flashback End

“High price to pay for what you did,” you said, your voice cold and steady.

Bucky’s eyes widened slightly, pain flickering across his face. “I know. I deserve every bit of it.”

You paused, taking a deep breath. “But one thing I appreciate is that you realize your own fault.” Your tone softened slightly, but your eyes remained guarded.

Bucky’s face brightened at your words, hope lighting up his expression. “Well… I even sent my mom to the police for you,” he said, a touch of pride in his voice.

You nodded slowly. “That’s the most extreme act to prove yourself.”

Just then, Tom appeared at the doorway. His eyes flickered with concern as he took in Bucky’s disheveled appearance. “Bucky? I heard about Lydia. Is it true?”

Bucky nodded, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Yeah, it’s true. She’s in police custody now."

Tom sighed deeply, glancing between you and Bucky. “Why don’t you come inside, Bucky? Let’s talk about this. There’s a lot we need to discuss.”

Bucky looked at you, silently seeking your approval. You gave a small nod, and he followed Tom into the house.

🛒🛒🛒🛒

The next day, you went to the grocery store to buy some essentials. As you were browsing the aisles, you spotted Steve looking at a shelf of canned goods.

“Hey, Steve,” you greeted, your voice casual.

He turned, a smile spreading across his face. “Hey! I’m going to the city next week to meet the gallery owner.”

“That’s great,” you replied, genuinely happy for him.

Steve’s smile widened. “I won’t forget your help.”

You shrugged your shoulders, a hint of a smile on your lips. “I still don’t care.”

Steve chuckled, noticing the smile. He nudged your shoulder playfully. “Sure you don’t.”

“Hey guys. Fancy meeting you here.”

Both of you turned around to see Bucky approaching, his expression a mix of surprise and hesitation.

“Oh, hi,” Steve greeted him, his tone polite but lacking warmth. The air between them was thick with an unspoken tension, the remnants of a once-close friendship now strained.

Bucky’s eyes darted between the two of you. “What are you guys up to?”

Steve cleared his throat. “I was just thanking her. Because of her, I got an offer to work in an art gallery.”

Bucky’s face fell slightly. “You’re gonna leave?” His voice grew quiet. “Wow. Congrats, buddy.”

The awkwardness between them was palpable. You could feel the tension building, and it was too much to bear. You decided to continue shopping, hoping to escape the uncomfortable atmosphere. “I’m going to keep shopping. See you around, Steve.”

Steve nodded, a small, grateful smile on his face.

Bucky saw this as his cue. “Let me help you. Besides, I’m going to help Tom later.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t object. “Fine.” Turning to Steve, you said, “See you.”

Steve nodded again, giving you a supportive smile.

Bucky quickly followed you, calling over his shoulder, “Let’s meet up later, buddy.” He didn’t wait for Steve’s answer, his focus solely on catching up with you.

Steve watched the two of you walk away, a somber expression on his face. “It’s better if we don’t,” he murmured to himself, the weight of past conflicts evident in his tone.

Join the tag list? 🩷💙🩷

@bagoffeelings

@darkofimagination

@starsofcloud

@cherrybubblebullet

@winterslove1917

@thezombieprostitute

@namoreno

@sagebarness

@tenaciousathleteoperatorgarden

@unaxv

@missvelvetsstuff

@kjah97

@hopeful-daydreaming

@freshlemontea

@eat-limes-bitches

@kandis-mom

@scott-loki-barnes

@winters1917

@differenttyphoonwerewolf

@arunabraganza

@ordelixx

@esposadomd

@sapphirebarnes

@cjand10

@bellabarnes1378

@thetravelingtyper

@buckitostan

@mostlymarvelgirl

@5upersoldiers1xt

@jjanereid

@cakesandtom

@queen2234

@learisa

@springsheep

@mrsstuckyboo

@read-just-cant

@loki-laufeyson68

@anixerz

@ghalouha

@jeremyrennermakesmesmile

@emerald-writes

@mcira

@barnesxstan

@bxtchboy69

@lokislady82

@mrsnikstan

@calwitch

@thedonswife13

@calwitch

@otterlycanadian

@bonkybarnes106

Author Note: Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account.

Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating.

Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

[hiskillingjar]

'You're his pet now.'

Relationship: Ren Hana/Reader, Fox/Reader Rating: Explicit Contains: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Injury Recovery, Power Imbalance, Coercion Length: Multi-chaptered, 2600+ words

Summary: After surviving hell, how do you navigate your relationship with the Devil?

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48528574

“Ngh…ah.”

You were supposed to be dead. That much you knew.

The second you woke up, the only thing that you could initially register was just how much your body hurt. It felt like you had been hit by a truck or trampled by a crowd or a pack of animals.

The next thing you registered, when you lurched forward and let out a long, pained groan, almost doubling up on yourself as your bandaged abdomen started to ache and twist, was that you were leaning up on a bed.

You weren’t on a thin mattress on the ground, nor were you in your cell or the dreaded 'filming room’. 

You were on a normal bed, in a normal room.

Well, maybe not normal. 

It looked a little like a hospital room, albeit a fancy one, when you blinked your heavy eye(s), peering around. A private suite with beige walls and tasteful decorations adorning them, pine furniture, a bedside table for get-well-soon cards and flowers. Your sheets were white and crisp and clean, and when you moved your arm, you could see a needle was pressed and taped inside, providing you with a drip feed. You could also feel a tube in your nose when you reached up to touch your face.

When you moved your other arm, though, you found it bound down to the side of the hospital bed. But the bindings were loose and made of expensive leather and fur that felt soft and soothing against your skin that had been rubbed raw by chains and metal. 

Emphasising that they were there to restrain you, but not to hurt you.

When you gave the cuffs another tug, a thick chain rattled against the metal and an intense pain shot across your left shoulder, making you take in a reflexive hiss and squeeze your eye(s) shut. 

The marred socket was still irritating and itchy, despite how well (you guessed) it was healing from the thick wadding that now covered it, covering half your face.

“You’re awake.”

You flinched at the sudden and familiar sound of...Fox, sitting on the other side of the room next to the closest window. He balanced an espresso cup on his knee and his legs crossed tight, sparing barely a glance at you as he looked out at the view outside. 

It was nighttime. How long has he been waiting for you to wake up?

"Hope you've been enjoying your little nap." He continued, his tone dry but lighthearted like he was talking to a neighbour or a colleague, as he took a quick sip from his cup, keeping his eyes on the night skyline outside. A city. "I can see the nurses have taken good care of you."

"Fox?" You mumbled warily as you sat up a little more on your best, pressing your free hand to your abdomen, trying to soothe the pain as the cuffs were pulled taught and tight against your other wrist. "Where...where am I?"

"Now that's a good question," He said with a thoughtful hum, finally looking over at you with more interest, one of his thick brows raising and wrinkling his forehead in a subtle way (a handsome way). 

He looked good, all things considered. He looked normal. 

He was dressed nicely, in a high-neck sweater and a well-pressed grey suit, his hair combed back and his ears standing high to attention. He looked like a man who had just walked straight out of a business meeting, handsome, in control, and a little intimidating to those that opposed him. 

You had to wonder how many other businessmen made their livings in snuff porn, though. 

Probably a few.

"How about you tell me how much you remember?" He then asked around the rim of the espresso cup as he took another sip, his tail swishing to and fro behind him.

Your brow furrowed pensively as you tried to remember...well, anything. 

You remembered the auction, the haze of colours, the bickering voices debating your worth, the burning stamp of red and blue (the occasional flicker of green) inside your lids. You remembered the announcer, his cheerful voice, and you remembered begging him to take you instead, to spare you from whatever these...people had planned for you. 

You remembered the cameras and the screens, the haze of white imprinted that had still soaked into your vision. You remembered the heckling from an unseen audience that cheered and begged for your blood, your suffering. 

You remembered the twisting ache of chains and bondage. You remembered your eye (or lack thereof), you remembered the demeaning costumes, you remembered the pain. You remembered the cell you were kept in and you remembered being so drugged up on painkillers most of the time, you could barely remember your name.

But you didn't remember why your abdomen was throbbing with agony or why every inch of your body was aching, and you didn't remember how you got here, or why you were still even alive.

Fox looked at your face, a light smile growing across his own (dimpling his deep smile lines and the markings on his cheeks) at the sight of your confusion and uncertainty.

"Do you remember anything?" He asked with a light chuckle after a few long moments, his ears flattening just a little on top of his head as he tilted his head. "Or is it all a blur?" He tutted softly with a shake of his head as his ears pointed again. “Poor dear. What’s gotten you so… lost?” 

His voice turned a touch condescending and mocking as he spoke those last few words, a subtle tone of amusement and pleasure behind them which made your aching stomach twist.

"Why am I still alive?" You said softly as you leaned up more, sitting up against the recline of the bed. "Why are we in a normal hospital? Why am I not in my cell?"

He was quiet for a moment, taking another drink from his cup, savouring the taste with an indulgent roll of his shoulders as he ran his tongue over his fangs in a slow and considered way. He then lowered the cup back down to his knee, with a light clatter of porcelain. 

"You really don't remember, hm?" He said dryly, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, his gaze golden and glittering with cruel amusement . You shook your head. "Well, what do you remember last? The auction, perhaps?"

"Uh…yeah, yeah, I remember that just fine." You said, a frown tightening the lines of your face (you wouldn't be surprised if you had more, you felt like you had aged decades). "I remember asking...begging, really, for you to take me instead of selling me to the others." You grimaced as you felt a sudden flare of pain in your shoulder, reaching up to idly knead at it and finding a thick swath of bandages stuck to your skin which spanned across your shoulder and down your bank. "It was...kind of a dumb choice, in hindsight."

"Well, that's one way of describing it." He continued, breathing out a short (practised) chuckle through his nose as a sharp smirk spread across his features, his fangs hooking over his lips the more he spoke. "But, and maybe I’m biased…I'd say it was probably the right choice." He then said, standing to his feet and pacing to the side of your bed, one hand in his pocket, his clawed thumb hooked around the fabric. "Wouldn't you agree?"

You weren’t too sure if you should agree or not, but he’d gotten you to a hospital and made sure you weren’t dead. What was the point in getting on his nerves now?

"I guess," You said with a shrug (despite your throbbing shoulder), letting your unrestrained arm drop back down to your side. The needle was starting to throb too, like you needed any more pain. "I'm alive, that's true...though I still don't really know why." You leaned back further against the hospital bed (the best you could), letting your head loll back on the cushions and considering him as he stepped closer. "You were going to kill me. I was sure of it."

"And yet, here you are!" He stood at the side of your bed, a wide and playful grin on my face as he set his coffee cup on the bedside table. “You’re alive, you’re healing, you're even relatively healthy, if your nurses are to be trusted. How lucky are you!”

Well, he was certainly right about that. Regardless of how much pain you were in, regardless of how much your body was throbbing and struggling just to keep you upright, you were healing. 

He was making sure you were healing. 

You swallowed hard, wondering why he was so determined for you to heal.

"I'm not going to.” He then said with a considered sigh. “Kill you, that is." You could see a little twinkle of mirth in his golden eyes as his head tilted again, his tail swishing behind him as he looked down on you. "What do you think that means, then? What does that mean to you?" He then asked, his voice playful and almost teasing, like he was telling you a good joke.

"I don't really know," You said, giving your cuff a little tug as you looked up at him with your good eye. “I…really don’t.”

"Well, since you’re so lost,” He grinned, his smile sharp and threatening (though you’re not sure he intended it that way). “Let me enlighten you." He perched himself on the side of your bed, resting a hand on your knee (underneath your blankets), the wide grin not leaving his face as he looked at you intently, his eyes bright and hungry . "It means… I like you too much to kill you. " 

You took in a sharp gasp, your eye(s) widening in shock once he assured you of the thing you were so scared of, so unsure of, (so secretly wanting of).

"Is that a good enough reason for you?" He then said softly. 

You could feel his warm breath across the side of your neck as he leaned a little closer to you, looking at you intently, his voice dripping, oozing with playful teasing. The touch on your knee tightened just a little.

"You...you like me?" You murmured quietly, so quiet that you were sure that only the two of you could hear it.

"Oh, darling ," He crooned softly as his grin eased just a touch into a smirk, his other hand reaching up to your chin to gently direct your gaze to his own, his eyes softening with fondness and...indisputable lust. "I adore you."

You swallowed a little tightly as he got closer to you, so close you could see the dimples of his smile lines, the creases around and under his eyes, and the freckles that dotted his cheeks.

You weren’t especially surprised by his admission. 

It did make sense, in hindsight, in some twisted kind of way. 

He had been quite sweet to you during the streams despite everything, taking the time to praise you when you behaved, to tend to your wounds, to assure you of his intentions and to make sure you were okay after all was said and done.

Maybe he did like you.

That didn't stop you from feeling nervous, though.

"And more than that..." He continued, his tail swaying just a little more (maybe it was even wagging…did foxes wag their tails?) “I want to keep playing with you , I want to make you beg for more, I want to own you." He leaned in a little bit closer, whispering in your ear softly, your faces inches apart as his soft, unruly hairs wisped against your cheek "I want to make you mine...and I always get what I want."

You were sure of that.

There were a few moments of heavy quiet, his breathing slow as he pulled away from you just a touch, enough that you could see his face, the soft flush to his cheeks, the mischievous, almost boy-ish twinkle in his eyes.

"So, what would your response be to that, then?" He whispered softly, his breath warm against your neck. "Do you want to be mine?"

"I mean…do I have much of a choice?" You asked quietly, though the warmth of his voice against your skin was…kind of nice and enough to make you shiver with a subdued rendition of pleasure.

"Not really, no," He said with a chuckle and a shake of his head, his expression fond and patient, almost like he had expected you to ask a question like that. "Either you become mine, or..." 

Or.

You swallowed again. 

He took another quiet moment to consider your expression, your stiff posture, the nervousness in your eyes, as if he was waiting for an answer, before he let out another little chuckle, shrugging his shoulders as he let go of your chin and gave you two light taps on the cheek.

You flinched, your face absolutely burning at the condescending little gesture. “Think about it!” He said easily, casually, like he was negotiating a business deal and not coercing you into a never-ending dynamic of ownership and servitude. He smiled and stood to his feet, letting go of your knee and giving his blazer a little tug to fix it into place. “You have plenty of time to, after all. And who knows?” He held his arms out in a wide gesture of casual friendliness. “You might come to like the idea!”

You didn’t say anything. Your cheeks were still blazing from the light taps.

“Well, get some rest, sweetie,” He then said, letting his arms drop to his sides with a quirked grin, showing you his fangs (again, you weren't sure if the threatening gesture was entirely on purpose). “I want you strong and healthy, after all! I’ll see you later.”

“Wait!” You said quickly, sitting forward and forcing the cuff on your wrist to pull tightly, almost digging into your skin as your arm was jerked back painfully. “Y-You’re going to leave me here? All on my own?”

“Mmhmm,” He nodded, putting his hands in his pockets and raising his brows at the quickness of your question, as if he was surprised that this was what you were concerned about. “There’s work to be done, after all. But I’ll visit you again soon, and your nurses will take great care of you.”

You sat back against the bed with a soft sound of defeat, looking down at your lap.

“Right, okay…” You murmured, fiddling with your fingers (the best you could with the cuff so tight). “...How soon?”

You flinched again when Fox let out a string of barking laughs, real and loud and authentic , his shoulders shaking with amusement and his tail wagging as he did his best to cover his amusement with his hands.

“Oh! Oh my, oh darling,” He said through his giggles, leaning towards you again, his hands on the bed and his smiling face near yours. “That is absolutely precious, it really is! You’re so needy already,” He grinned then and pressed his nose into your hair, like a quick affectionate nuzzle. It’s almost a kiss and it almost makes your heart race. “And oh-so-sweet. We’re going to have such a good time together, I can already tell.” 

You didn’t say anything, but your flushing face said more than enough for him.

“Rest up. And try not to miss me too much, okay?~ ❤”

[cindersnows]

all devils break down

(green<qpr>purple)

You beam into the mirror, inspecting your hair one last time. It never seems to stay fully flat, but at least your bedhead is gone!

Your outfit is good too. A nice sweater jacket fitting for the spring breeze, as well as your usual black top and some blue jeans. Nothing that screams "trying too hard". This is supposed to be casual, after all. You did think very hard on the colors, though— you considered a pink sweater due to the comfort the color gave you and how cherry blossom forests are super pink, but then remembered that one experiment the humans had done about pink as a color slowly stressing inmates out. Maybe blue, but then you'd blend in with the sky too much, and you don't really have any good blues that don't clash with your jeans. Orange doesn't really look good on you, as much as you love the color, and yellow makes you look weird and desaturated. Not that being desaturated is bad, of course, but something cooler brings out your complexion more. Ultimately, you went with a pale green, something that would still stand out while also blending with the grass. Plus, Green really likes the color green. Self absorbed much?

So. Yeah. Not overthinking it at all!

You double-check your inventory, and then climb down the ladder, heading for the nearby portal. This is going to be great! With the picture Green sent, it looks like he put a lot of effort into the picnic too, so there's no way the feeling isn't mutual. You just have to trust him!

You should've noticed with when you arrived and found no picnic basket. Honestly, you should've noticed when he invited you for a picnic. It's clearly revenge for the prank you played on him with Red— how did he find out you planned it? Did she tell him? Did it piss him off? You thought the two of you were on good terms, but you suppose he was just keeping up a ruse so that it'd hurt more when he "pranked" you back.

Smart.

The word is bitter on your tongue. It's also hot on your tongue, as well as the flecks of lava that entered your mouth when you screamed. Rookie mistake, honestly. You automatically pull out a bucket of water, one that you usually keep around to stop yourself from getting hurt when you crash-land, and you splash it over the lava, trying to get the source. Nothing; Obsidian forms and the lava quickly drowns out all the water.

The liquid burns at your legs. It's not a slow sort of deterioration as one would expect, but jabs of sharp pain every few seconds, as if you're just being stabbed over and over, and you're not sure whether that's better or worse.

Your health's down to two hearts now. Green's holding up his phone and recording, his back turned to you. Still, you know he can see you.

You hope the camera captures your watery glare. You're sure that's what he wants.

You feel your stomach drop, and for a second there's confusion, before your vision goes black and you're back in your bed. His laughs still echo in your ears.

You've been watching his videos, of course. Eagerly liking each one, although you share your comments with him over text. He's responded with enthusiasm to each one. He'll probably post this shit as a video too, and his stupid mindless fans will flock to compliment him without even thinking.

You don't think you'll send him a message for this next one though.

You want to take some sort of revenge, go to his PC and knock his lights out in front of his friends, or maybe destroy his instruments to spite him. You try to recall that hatred you felt back after you'd first met him and gotten kicked out of the village, the anger that propelled you for months to beat him up in League.

There's nothing, though. Instead of fire, you just feel some cold disappointment. There's a numbness in your chest.

You remain where you respawn. For some reason, it's hard to move. It's hard to do anything other than think, and even then, your thoughts feel a little muffled. Like someone else is thinking them for you. 

But hey. At least it makes it easier for you to think logically? Mango would commend you for this, honestly. You're keeping your temper!

You take a look at the facts.

Number one: You helped Red plan a prank on Green. You thought this was normal for friends, but you guess not. It's not like you're very good and figuring out when your friends will be upset anymore.

Number two: Green got upset about this.

Number three: What if it wasn't about the prank, though? Maybe he was just waiting for an excuse to hurt you?

Number four: Even if he wanted to hurt you, it's okay, because you deserve it. You hurt him first, and then again, and then again. He's allowed to hate you. He's allowed to hurt you. It's not like you're not used to it.

Number five: But didn't he forgive you for that? You told him why you did it. You said sorry. You said you were bad. You wear your horns, a reminder that you messed up. He knows that.

Number six: But did he really forgive you? He never said the words "I forgive you." He said to fight back against King.

Number seven: He never said the words "I forgive you."

Number eight: He just needed you on his side so he could win. He didn't care about how you actually felt.

Number nine: None of your friends actually care about you. They only tolerate you because Green told them to. Green only told them to because he wants you on his side in case he needs anything.

Number ten: Mango doesn't care about you either. They just keep you around because you remind them of their daughter. And even then you fuck that up, running off whenever instead of just staying with them so they can cope with their empty nest syndrome.

Number eleven: But that's King's problem, not yours.

Number twelve: They only keep you around because you're useful.

Number thirteen: You'd be better off without them.

Your hand moves of its own accord, removing your phone from your inventory and clicking it on.

You'd be better off without them.

You block all their contacts. You don't even hesitate. It's laughably easy, honestly, like you've been waiting to do it this whole time.

You'd be better off without them.

You axe down your house without even realising. You take your essentials. You grab a rocket and set it off, barely feeling the heat as you launch into the sky.

You'd be better off without them, and this is going to prove it.