#freakazoid x Reader

[fishingmice]

chat... what if i write nsfw... and instead of fanfics... it was 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴fics...

Specifically on byakuya togami :3....

[bluem1lls]

hey *leans against table and winks or smth* can i request se-mi x reader on where they’re roommates but fucking HATE each other but se-mi has a onlyfans account (because she’s a freakazoid👅👅) and reader finds out so like when reader confronts her about it or smth se-mi somehow magically gets reader to join her and they become scissor sisters (also se-mi with a strap i DONT fear..) and become lovers..?? sorry if this is to much or shitty

✧₊⁺ show me who you are

se-mi x fem! reader

✦ synopsis: having a roommate you hate is annoying. and it becomes even more annoying when she gets all your good angles in the porn video you both filmed. tw: minors dni, smut w plot, and they were roommates!, fingering/oral (r!receiving), scissoring, sub!reader, dom!se-mi, degradation (a little?), choking, a bit of slapping authors note: hi! for the girl who also requested enemies to lovers IM SORRY i lost ur request but here it is! tysm for reading and the requests, i hope u like it!

"this is important!" thanos said, making me sit down besides nam-gyu in our living room as i stared at my other best friend from the corner of my eyes. nam-gyu shrugged as i sighed.

"yes?"

"we're in debt with the landlord"

"we knew that" nam-gyu said as i nodded and thanos rolled his eyes.

"no like.. we actually need to pay him back a shit ton. but he said we could do it per month. the thing is none of us has any more money, so here's my idea.. a new roommate!"

"cool" nam-gyu said.

"no way" i said at the same time.

"listen to me" thanos grabbed my shoulders. "i hate the idea too, but we're poor. my room can be her room and i'll share with nam-gyu"

i stared at both of them as nam-gyu turned to him. "wait- like bed and-"

"no, not the bed dumb ass" thanos smacked him as the other one nodded. "so? are we getting a new roommate?" he repeated to both of us. i sighed and nodded. nam-gyu did too, making thanos smile. "great! because her name is se-mi and she's about to be here in 30 minutes"

my eyes widden. wait what?

"what-wait. oh my god. you knew we would say yes so you already took the interviews and picked a random person? are you fucking insane?" i stood up, hitting him as he winced.

"auch- i knew u two would say yes because we don't have another choice. plus min-su's best friend was looking for a place so i told her and she agreed. never thought that could lead to my death, jesus." he stared at me with a frown as he rubbed his arm.

"oh wait, the tall girl with the short hair? oh i like her, she's cool" i stared at nam gyu with my mouth open.

was i the only one who had no idea of who she was? i've been so busy with school that it was hard to keep a pace with the guys. we've been a group ever since i can remember. nam-gyu came after, at first it was just me, thanos and min-su, then it was just the four of us. we decided to live together once we were old enough and it has been that way since. min-su stayed out because he said we were 'a mess' and he didn't had to pay rent at his parent's house.

i heard the doorbell ring as thanos ran to the door, opening to reveal a tall girl with short brunette hair, piercings on her lip and nose.

oh, she's pretty.

"come in! so you know him, and this our best friend and third annoying roomate!" he said as i told her my name. she stared up and down, biting her lip in a nervous manner.

"se-mi" she introduced herself with a head nod.

i smiled at her as he showed her around. it was a normal apartment with a living, one bathroom, three rooms and a small balcony (usually used for the hangouts and to smoke).

as she looked at the place, nam-gyu left her stuff in her new room. once he came back, he wrapped his arms around me, giving me a light squeeze.

"hey, it'll be fun. plus you get along more with girls than boys, you'll love her. maybe she'll even be your new best friend."

"if you don't like it then MOVE OUT!" i shouted at her. my breath shaking with anger.

"well, guess what doll? i live here too! and if you don't like it, then go find a new place, but we both know you won't because your real issue is that you just love to complain. you're just a brat who cries when she doesn't get what she wants!" se-mi screamed back, standing up from the couch to face me.

"go fuck yourself!" i replied, grabbing the keys and my phone before slamming the apartment door.

i quickly texted my best friend to meet up at our usual coffee shop as i walked through the cold streets, trying to cool off. once i got there, i ordered the usual; ice coffee and chai tea latte for jun-hee.

i saw her sat in one of the booths. "i will kill her. i'm not joking" i said as sat down. she chuckled, this wasn't a new subject for her.

"you never gave her an actual chance th-"

"she doesn't need it! i don't need it! she's been a bitch to me ever since she came. everytime i wake up, when i hang out with the guys, she's always there! it's like she became part of the group!"

she stared at me with a sympathetic smile as she drank her chai tea.

"she is part of the group now, love. and i don't think that's changing, if the guys like her, you know they'll keep her around, mostly now that she lives there. so you can choose to fumble everytime you're around her or try to at least ignore her to be at peace" jun-hee said as i sighed. my hands rubbed my face as i groaned.

"i'll try. doesn't mean it'll go well" i said, still not uncovering my face as she gave me a soft chuckle.

"you'll do great!"

as i came back to the apartment, i could hear the moanings even from outside. i took a deep breath to cool down as i entered. of course the moans came from her room.

ever since she got here, she brings a different girl every fucking weekend. nam-gyu and thanos are staring with their mouths wide open when they open the door to find (once again) an another beautiful blonde standing there. they also stare disappointed when se-mi appears with a quick hi, kisses her and guides her to her room.

a long line of girls walk into that room and leave with messy hair, hickeys, messy clothes and a relaxed and very fucked out face.

"it's ridiculous, what is she, a pornstar?" i tell jun-hee as she lays in my bed while i pace in my room. she bites her lip to supress a smile.

"so... i have something to tell you. or show you."

i stared at her, sitting in bed to watch while she tapped on her phone, looking for something.

"so we have talked about this countless times since she moved in, right? so i searched a bit and.." she turned her phone, her only fans profile appeared as i gasped and covered my mouth.

"you have to be kidding me!" i stared wide eyed, taking the phone. "oh my god jun-hee did you fucking bought her content?" i open my mouth, staring at the doe eyed girl besides me.

"research purposes. take a look. oh wait, i'll send them to you"

as the photos and videos arrived to my phone, i went through each of them and oh my god. my face flushed crimson red as i stare at one particular photo. you could see from her bare chest to her crotch. she had a strap that hit her lower stomach with her hand wrapped around it, looking like she was stroking it like it was her cock. i licked my lips as my mouth felt dry and my head dizzy. jun-hee sent me 5 videos, se-mi fucking a blonde girl in all fours, another one scissoring, fucking in missionary, a pretty redhead riding her. she knew how to attract people to buy her shit, and she knew how to make the content.

"she's hot" my best friend said with a soft push on my direction, making me snap from my thoughs as i shrugged.

"doesn't make her any less annoying"

"can i buy-" he said, as i quickly cut him off.

"no."

"but you've seen it-" the other one said, as i, once again, cut them both off.

"no one is buying anything!" i rolled my eyes at both guys. "this is a secret i shared with my best friends. not with my lousy roommates, got it? if i hear that se-mi found out from either of you, both will be very much dead. like dick? cut off" i threated them as thanos stared down at his crotch with his eyes wide. they both nodded.

"man, i wish a had a girl" nam-gyu stared at a blank point.

i told them once again 'not a word' as i headed back into my room. i heard the door closing as the guys left. they mentioned in the morning they were going at min-su's, i told them i'd stop by later. i heard the door open again just as they left, probably se-mi.

as i looked for my charger in my room, i started to get annoyed. the three of them steal it all the fucking time. i leave my room to bash into nam-gyu's and thanos room, taking a quick look in the dark. no signs of the charger.

as i close the door, i see se-mi staring at me with a smirk on her face. her arms crossed on her chest with an amused expression.

"did you take my charger?" i asked as she hummed.

"maybe" she replied as i let out a groan of exasperation.

"se-mi."

she let out a snort as she went into her room, quickly coming back to throw the charger at me, as i pressed my lips to not curse her. outloud.

"it would be my pleasure if you stopped grabbing my stuff without my permission"

"mine doesn't charge as fast" she replied, the amusement on her face never leaving as i rolled my eyes.

"one would guess that with all the money you make with your only fans you could afford a new charger" i mumbled under my breath as i turned around. i felt her hands quickly grip my arm tight as i winced. "auch-"

"what the fuck did you said?" the smirk on her lips faded as she stared intensely at me.

well that was a mistake. but i can't back up now, can i?

"i said" my tongue did a quick 'tsk' as i stared into her eyes, her gaze felt intense and cold. "one would think that with the money you make at only fans you could buy a fast charger, but i guess it isn't going as good as i guessed?"

i could feel my back pressed against the wall, making me let out a small wince. she pinned me, her head slightly down to fixate her gaze on me. i could see her annoyed expression.

"and how would you know that?" she spit. her eyes never leaving mine.

"it's not that hard. a little research and all i can see is why so many girls come in and out every weekend. your videos are boring, by the way."

her angry expression turned into a... confused one? an amused one? a scoff escaped her lips as they curved into a small smirk.

"oh. so you watched them?"

fuck. fucking jun-hee for the details. and fucking jun-hee for that strap photo that's all that's been going through my mind the last few days.

"w-what? no, no" i said as she slowly pressed her body against mine. one of arms left to wall to grip my waist, holding me tightly against her. our eyes never stopped meeting in the silence of the living room.

"you've watched them. you're noisy and you know too much not to. and i bet you enjoyed every single one of them" she replied in a low voice. her eyes roamed over my face, searching for a hint of a lie, but all she could find was the embarrasement in my eyes, making her let out an amused scoff. her fingers softly began to trace circles on my waist as a shiver ran through my spine. "bet you even got wet watching them"

i bit my lip in response. not getting out of my head the amount of times i squeezed my tighs when i saw the videos and photos. the heat that pooled in my panties everytime i saw her thrusts inside of one of her girls. the way she'd make them suck her strap as if it was her real cock, the grip she hold in their hair made me even wetter, but when my hand lowered to take care of my ache, i had stop myself, reminding me how this was just my insufferable roommate.

"were you just mad because you wanted to be one of my girls, doll?" her finger tilted my chin up to stare at her. the room felt heavy with tension as her other hand held me in place. a blush placed on my cheeks, making me feel ashamed because i knew she was right. i did wanted to be one of them. the silence was the answer she needed. she bit her lip piercing as she couldn't help the smirk that escaped.

i felt her hands dip underneath my top as i let out a shaky breath, i could feel my heart stammering on my chest, my legs felt like they could no longer hold me, the only thing keeping me standing was her firm grip. she closed the distance between our bodies, as her lips gently caressed mines without kissing me.

"i bet you're such a whore, you'd even love if i filmed you, hm?"

my cunt aching as i heard her words. i could feel my thong getting pooled with arousal. the proximity between us only made my heart beat faster as i softly nodded, her gaze never leaving mine as her eyes darkened with desire.

she took a step back, grabbing my hand as she pulled us both into her room and closed the door. i could see her blue duvet that i recognized from the videos. she even had led lights to make the entire room feel more like a porn video with high quality.

i didn't even got to process the other furniture as she pushed me against the door, her grip once again holding my waist.

"you really know how to push my buttons." she said leaving wet kisses on my neck as i leaned my head, giving her acess to more space as she groaned. the feeling of her lips making me whine. "you're such an insufferable little brat"

"then do something about it" i replied, a smirk curving my lips as she licked hers.

she lets out a huff. "it really sucks when the most annoying person i know is the one that arouses me the most" she said, my eyes filled with surprise as she crashed her lips with mine in a harsh, desperate kiss.

i quickly melted to her, my arms wrapped around her neck, grabbing the nape of it. bringing her closer as one of her hands left my waist to slowly trail down to my ass, squeezing and giving it a harsh spank as i whimpered in between kisses.

she broke the kiss to speak. her voice husky. "you can't tell the guys about this. not a single word"

"i still hate you" a dry chuckle escaped se-mi's lips at my reply, kissing me again. i felt pure desire through my body as her hands roamed all over.

she moved me out of the door and pushed me to bed. an arrogant smirk tugged at her lips at the sight of me in her room. her gaze taking my entire body with a mix of lust and excitement. she took a few steps to set up the camera in the tripod. as her finger posed on the little 'on' button, she stared at me.

"are you sure you want to do this?"

"yeah. turn it on"

she bit her lip as her fingers pressed the 'on' button. my heart stammered from excitement as she placed herself between my legs, on top of me.

our lips finding eachother once again, her tongue entering my mouth while her hands wrapped around my throat, giving it a light squeeze to test as i moaned in response.

the kiss felt rough and raw. she could feel the vibration of my moan against her as her grip tightened. her body pressed against mine made me feel the heat radiate from her. our bodies molded together.

she slid her knee between my legs, the pressure against my core sent a wave of pleasure, making her break the kiss to press her lips on my neck as my hands went to her hair, tugging her closer.

"my needy girl" i nodded in response as she licked and bit my neck. "now be a good girl, stand up and take your clothes off" she ordered as i did what she said.

my wobbly legs trembled at her intense gaze on my body. i let my leggins hit the floor as i slowly pulled the shirt out of my head, her eyes tracing the curves of my body, making me shiver as i was only left on my bra and panties, i tried to move aside the feeling of being so exposed. as my hands moved to my back to remove my bra, she sat on the the edge of the bed. her arms sneaking around my waist, pulling me closer to her.

"maybe let's leave this pretty set on" she said, staring at my pink underwear as i nodded, feeling dizzy and flushed under her look.

my legs straddling her thighs as i sat on top of her. her hands moved to grab my ass, giving it a light squeeze as our lips found once again in a lustful kiss. she moved me around so i was laying underneath her. her kisses lowered to my neck, down to my chest. the trail going downwards to my cunt. as it reached, she left a soft open-mouthed kiss on my clothed clit. her fingers trailed a path from my thighs to my desperate cunt, who was begging her for attention.

she softly traced over my panties, one finger circling my clit as the wet patch on the lingerie spreaded. her fingers moved up and down my soaked center, pulling my thong aside.

"could you hold this for me, doll?" she said as i nodded, my eyes becoming watery as i bit my lip. i felt her hot breath against my bare cunt, making me shiver as she placed her hands on both of my thighs to spread me open and hold me in place.

her tongue went straight to my clit, giving it some short but pressured licks, making me throw my head back as my hand never left the hold on my panties.

she kept licking, making me moan and whimper from pleasure. my free hand grabbed one of my tits, giving it a light squeeze as i pinch my nipple.

i could feel her eyes on me. "what a slut. you're a natural" her words causing vibrations against my cunt, making me clench around nothing as i kept moaning louder.

i felt as she left the space between my legs to pick up the camera, handing it over to me as i looked at her dumbfounded.

"could you hold it for me, princess? so everyone gets a closer look at how good i eat this pussy"

her words making me whimper as i hold the camera with one hand and still hold my panties with the other one. she gets back between my legs. this time, two of her fingers enter without warning in my warm cunt as my eyes roll back, feeling overwhelmed by how well her tongue swirls around my clit and the fast pace that her fingers pick out.

she thrusts harsh, scissoring with her long fingers inside of me, removing them to dip them once again, her movements make my moans get even louder and louder.

i clench when i take a look at what the camera is recording. her face in between my legs, her hair sticking to her forehead as she eats it with pleasure, moaning at how good i taste.

her fingers follow her tongue pace, making me squirm in pleasure as she holds me in place. i can hear the squelching sounds my pussy makes as she thrusts.

"nu-huh. if you're gonna cum, then do it on my mouth baby. i'm not stopping"

she goes quicker and harder as i feel the heat on my lower stomach about to snap. i rut against her face, needy for release as she gives me a soft chuckle at my desperation. i feel her lips wrapping and sucking around my clit as her fingers curl inside of me, making my entire body tremble. my vision goes white as i roll my eyes back, feeling the orgasm run through my entire body. my toes curl from pleasure as she never stops, only when my body goes numb and i'm whimpering and whining from the overstimulation.

i open my eyes as i looked at her through the viewfinder of the camera. her chin and lips covered with my glossy release. her tongue licks her lips as she hums at the taste, her gaze almost black as she stares at my fucked out state. she props herself up from in between my legs, snatching the camera from my hands. she points it towards me, recording my face as her fingers enter my mouth. i suck them clean, tasting myself as i watch her half-lidded eyes and her teeth nibble at her lip piercing as she hums.

she holds the camera with one hand, while her right hand grips my face, squeezing my cheeks. only releasing to give a harsh slap as i whine. "such a whore, hm?"

she stands up, leaving the camera on the tripod as she quickly swifts off her clothes, throwing them somewhere in the room.

she gets in bed again, lifting my leg to place it on her shoulder as she positions on top, lining herself up against me.

we both moan at the contact. her dripping wet cunt rutting against my sticky pussy. her moves are harsh and fast, creating a rhythm that's followed by our moans and slick sounds.

my nails claw at her thighs, making her speed up. i throw my head back, chanting her name like a prayer.

her eyes are fixated on my expressions. she bites her lip as her hair sticks down to her forehead with sweat.

"hear those wet sounds doll? that's how wet you get me by being a fucking brat" her words hitting right to my core as i lift my hips, our clits bumping. "stay like that" she says in a moan, rutting faster. both desesperate for release.

"fuuuck" her teeth clench as her hands wraps around my throat, making my eyes roll back as she lets out a shaky breath, her eyes shuting close while her head falls back as she grinds herself faster.

i could feel the tight sensation wrappping me once again.

"gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna cum" i chanter as her grip around my throat tightens.

a loud moan escapes my mouth as the feeling snaps. heat on my lower stomach as my release makes her cum. her eyes roll back with a loud moan escaping her lips while she keeps grinding, making our releases last longer.

she slids from on top to stand up to. she turns off the camera, falling into bed, besides me. her chest going up and down with heavy breaths as i try catching my own, my cheeks burning red.

"not a word about this to anyone. this was a one time thing" i murmur, slowly getting up to find my clothes.

she lets out a sigh, replying. "yeah, not a word. we're not doing this again"

and one week later, i'm watching my own porn video posted on her only fans while she's between my legs with her tongue swirling around my clit as she speaks:

"do you like watching yourself while i eat you, doll?" she says as i nod. my hands grab her hair, tugging her up to leave my cunt. she gives me a heated kiss, making me taste myself on her mouth.

"let's do it again" i mumble in between kisses as she smirks, lowering herself down.

it's about to be a long night.

[sanguineterrain]

Hello! I recently found your blog and bruh I'M SMITTEN by your works.

Would it be alright if I requested Jason Todd x gn reader (also vigilante but only works on small cases and in safer places... Jason wouldn't let them anywhere else after a heavy injury they sustained in the past)...

Maybe they're searching for clues in one of the alleys and reader finds a baby there and takes it home (or maybe they fall upon a tired-looking woman throwing her baby over the bridge, reader manages to catch it but when they get back up the woman is gone)? Just overall how would Jason react to his partner finding a kid and bringing it home and what would happen after.

I made myself laugh bc I thought Jason would be like "good thing you went home and not to a bat cave, can't handle another sibling, the last one is already a living hell.

And I wanted to ask if it would be alright if I requested more than just one thing? Completely fine if not.

❤️❤️❤️

This is a super cute prompt!! Thanks for sending it in. And yes feel free to send more than one request 💓

Jason Todd x gn!reader. Abandoned baby, established relationship, Jason being a cutie patootie.

****

You find the baby in a grocery store basket stuffed with blankets behind a Walmart.

She's a tiny thing, with fat cheeks and a permanent wrinkle between her brow. She's frighteningly quiet.

You take her home.

Home has become synonymous with Jason's apartment. At some point, it just made more sense for you to move in long-term. Jason had gingerly brought it up to you one night and kissed you hard when you'd said yes.

You pick up some formula on the way home and a few other things. The baby starts to cry after a bit, to your relief, and after feeding and changing her, you sway her until she falls asleep.

You're content to hold her until you get a crib. You fully intend to do so.

You hear the first lock turn, then the second, then the third. There's no worry that Jason will wake the baby; he always enters a building like he's casing it.

You have the TV turned down low, channel switched to some late-night sitcom. Jason comes in and closes the door with his foot. He takes off his helmet, revealing his messy curls. You smile.

"Hey, Jaybird," you say.

Jason glances at you as he walks to the bedroom, unzipping his vest as he goes. He grins tiredly.

"Hey, sweetheart. Hello, baby."

You watch him disappear into the bedroom. The baby is still fast asleep. You adjust your legs to get more comfortable in the chair.

Jason backs out of the room a moment later, gear still on. His vest is half-unzipped.

"That's a baby," he says.

You nod. "Yep."

Jason pulls a face like he's doing calculus in his head. "Did—do we have a... did I...?"

"How would that even work, Jason?"

"Look, there's many ways that can happen! Y'know how many freakin' clones are in this city? My freakazoid brother could get you a genetically engineered baby in twelve hours."

"She is an organically produced baby not related to either of us. Okay?"

"Oh. Sure, yeah." Jason starts to turn, then comes back. "Wait, no, I still have questions. Why do you have a baby?"

"I found her."

Jason squints at you, then at the baby. "You found her."

"Uh-huh."

"I don't think that'll hold up in court, sweets."

"Relax, Jason. I'm ninety-nine percent sure she was abandoned. I found her behind a Walmart. I know I could've dropped her at the hospital, but I just..." You look down at her sleeping face. "She's just so little. And she needs human contact. Nurses are already overworked as it is. What harm is in taking her home?"

"Yeah, y'know what that is? A siren song. Pretty soon, you'll be fitting her for a domino mask and dressing her like a traffic light."

You roll your eyes. "Don't be silly. I wouldn't dare try to take Damian's title. Plus, traffic light color palettes are so outdated."

Jason pouts. "Are not."

You carefully stand, baby in your arms, and walk over to peck Jason on his cheek.

"Are too. Wanna hold her?"

Jason looks at her like she's a bomb. "I dunno. I might... what if I... hurt her?"

You frown. "You wouldn't hurt her, Jaybird."

"I might hold her wrong or make her cry, and then I'll have to throw myself off the roof."

"You are such a drama king. She's sleeping like a log. You won't wake her unless you scream in her ear."

Before Jason can reply, you're unloading her into his arms. He jumps into action, arms and hands awkward but trying. You smile gently.

"Put her head in the crook of your elbow. Yeah, good. Support her butt. Both arms. Yeah, good! Good job, honey."

You pat his arm. Jason looks spooked for a second, then seems to relax when she doesn't stir. She's cradled in his arms like she was made to fit there.

"Isn't she so cute?" you whisper.

"She is really cute. So small. God." He watches her for a moment, mouth downturned. "I was a small baby too."

"I bet you were a cute baby," you say, tucking a curl behind Jason's ear.

"Oh, sure. People came from all over the world to have a gander at the cutest baby on the planet. Looks like she's taken my title."

Jason starts to sway lightly, holding her like she's gold. You feel your face soften.

He must feel your eyes on him, because he looks up after a moment like he's expecting you to correct his posture. "What?"

You shake your head. "Nothing. Just... I'm just really in love with you, Jay."

Jason's cheeks turn pink. He bites the inside of his cheek.

"Oh. I'm, uh, really in love with you too."

You kiss him properly for that, and Jason hums into your mouth, then pulls back slightly.

"We can't keep the baby. Y'know that, right? I gotta marry you properly first," Jason says against your lips.

"This is the twenty-first century, buddy. People keep babies all the time, unwed or not."

"Yeah, I know. Still wanna marry you first."

You look down at the baby and give her an air kiss. Then you look up at Jason, putting on the saddest face you can muster. He sighs.

"Well," he says, gently touching her fingers. "Maybe we can keep her for a little while."

[mihii-i]

form of worship.

Pairings: mizu x fem!reader

CW: nsfw, female reader, afab reader, wlw, redo of the brothel vision scene because I fucking hate it, flashback yippee, you’re not here w her unfortunately mizu just thinks of reader, I made this more passionate because I just don’t like taizu and I get more action than taigen cause I’m her wife obvi, praise, fingering, crying, sough rex, the kink where you drag your nails along someone’s back (do not tell anyone I have that this stays here.), mizu’s confused about gay people lmfao, hehehehe switch mizu yes I live for switch mizu, bottom lean tho cause im thirsty rn, not proofread.

A/N: here’s the little poll winner request cause you freakazoids (lovingly) requested anyway this is literally just the brothel sequence but with mizu imagining you instead of baldie (I hate that scene sm I pretend it doesn’t exist lmfaooo) anyway have fun cause it’s almost midnight so writing might be a little off. 🕯️

“He was honest with his desire, that is a swordsman who knows the shape of his soul.”

Madame Kaji’s smooth voice rang around the thick atmosphere clouded with lust, her voice soft like a bundle of silk running fluidly without any openings or stray threads. Slim spills of golden light poured out from the thin, rectangular peephole that slid open to observe such acts through the periphery a singular eye.

Orange glasses lowered to rest atop the bridge of her nose, Mizu couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of the raw skin to skin contact, both a woman and the samurai from the duel earlier brushing up against each other so sinfully, while another man pressed against the samurai’s back to loom over his wide shoulders. Her pupils dilated wide within the rim of her cerulean eyes, fixated on how the dull yellow brightness outlining their bodies in the midst of a firey passion scorching within the confines of the heated ambience.

She had solely convinced herself that such acts were nothing but a medium of self indulgence in the pleasure of another. An addictive feeling that is solely useless to partake in. Sexual pleasure could either be a soul entangling act of love, coursing through the veins in an ardent ache throbbing within someone to love and please the other. While on the other end, it could be the exact opposite. A heightened, sadistic thirst to satisfy one’s selfish desires to bask in, as well as inflict harm upon another in rugged destruction where the reciever pleads for it to be over. The duality alone was enough to draw Mizu away from the prospect of something supposedly disgusting to her.

So why couldn’t she tear her eyes away from the two men, engaged so deeply in their fervor together?

Mizu opened her mouth to speak for a moment, eyes still locked onto the grasp of the three in the room rocking against each other as a chorus of quiet moans gradually grew louder from the inside. Her mouth hung dry in response though, not a single word rasping out of her mouth in the usual stern tone that lowly hummed against her throat. She wanted to deny the potential thought of sex being an act of worship as Madame Kaji had proposed, trying to force out the words of desire being beyond the need of her purpose.

Madame Kaji only flashed her a satisfied smile at the sight of her gaze transfixed onto the passionate act between the three within the room. The corners of her cherry lips perked up at the sight, cautiously stepping toward Mizu.

“Has the gentleman finally caught sight of an act that piqued his interest?” She inquired, under the impression that sexual relations with a man was what Mizu had desired.

That wasn’t it.

A man with another man? Although quite different to her, the act itself between two of the same sex seemed beautiful in her sights, a fresh bond between the two men being honest with their desires in a way that wasn’t the norm nor taboo, yet was rather welcome as a beauty of preference to one another.

Could two women partake in the same act?

Mizu blinked at the abrupt thought she had, her bottom lip curled into a thin line dashed below her nose. She wondered to herself that if women weren’t so confined in such a society, remaining as open to several options as men were…could two women be honest with their desires in the same affection to crave one another?

Her mind began flood with scenarios as she blankly dulled her eyes into the two men’s lips smashed up against one another’s, not particularly looking at them with much interest. Rather, she wanted to know how it would feel to outline her hands along the smooth skin of another woman. Head racing with scenarios of you in particular, rather than some random woman she picked up on. It was clear Mizu had missed you, yet she didn’t think it was to the extent where her thoughts were clouded with fucking you in the same way the do in these brothels.

Face flushing deeply, the upper end of the bridge of her nose was dusted in a gentle blush of pink, diffusing to the thin bones of her cheeks. All she could picture in the moment while staring blankly—were the calloused ridges of her fingers tracing along your curves as her palms carefully dug into the plush of your bare skin, handling you cautiously as if you were a porcelain doll, fragile to her unmerciful hand.

Lips grazing the flesh of your throat while her skull was nothing but a whirlwind of desire for you, longing to hear your drawn out noises as the compulsive need to feel you clenching around her waned at any composure she kept within her. Mizu continued to observe the acts of the two, with less interest in what they partook in and rather what she wanted to lock you into, imagining the infatuating sight of your nude frame sprawled out below her, legs held up to your chest with only one of her hands as her gloves chafed against the bristles of hair on your knees.

Mizu bit her bottom lip subtly at the lone idea itself of her free hand sunken into your cunt while she took in your cries of pleasure circling her, the heightened want and desperation in your voice bouncing off the walls into every corner of the room as you enclosed the velvety warmth of your walls around the ridges of her digits. Simply burying them knuckles deep in you, your body bouncing up and down with each thrust as she kissed you all over as a sweet act of love coated in pleasure until your inevitable climax.

Gods, she couldn’t keep you out of her mind.

Even when the two men flipped over, Mizu strangely enough was only able to dissolve her previous thoughts into a whole new scenario, one of which made her skin burn as a bead of sweat built up directly below her jaw on the vein of her neck. Feeling as if her head was throbbing at the influx of perverted thoughts, she didn’t attempt to push away any idea of you laying on top of her as well, hands flat against her waist to press her into a tatami mat.

Such a shameless thought of you taking her on the floor itself only sent her reeling into a mess, brain short circuiting as her knees pushed closer together than they already were. Attempting to push back the simple, raw idea of your fingers brushing along that spot within her, massaging the spongy end that addictively buries your fingers into the soft warmth of her pussy, was nothing but a futile attempt.

It was hard to push back, especially darting to the idea of your teeth grazing the edge of her collarbone as you hummed against the crook of her neck, uttering out soothing words of praise along her skin as a shiver racked Mizu’s body. Tears stinging at the corner of her eyes as her legs tightly coiled around your bare waist, obscene moans she attempted to suppress spilling from her lips as your fingers sunk into her cunt enveloping you with a welcome warmth.

Each gentle word of affection rasped out by your hushed voice against her throat serving to prick more tears welling up in her eyes from the sheer emotion blending into the sensation of pleasure arching her body in a dome off the ground as your palm ground against her sensitive clit. Her fingers traced along your back as you rammed your fingers into her against the mat while her body jousted upward with the slam of three of your fingers inside her, nails dug into your back as she raked down your skin in a wake of bright red blooming along the ridges of goosebumps.

Mizu knew how damn loud she was, the fact even coming to enticingly haunt her in her fantasies as she envisioned the lewd noises wrenched out of her throat while she dug her nails into your back, your fingers nudging up against her cervix as she let out a pleading sob at the sheer stimulation driven by your love. Only being able to imagine the blanking feeling mentally as she snapped from her climax, her lithe figure arching to the cool air assaulting her bare skin as it drew in shiver along her exposed tits, chest heaving up and down as you captured her in a gentle kiss.

Her imagination subsided as soon as she lost sight of the three within the room upon grounding herself back into reality, the heat dusted across still lingering along the midpoint of her sharp facial structure. When Mizu had imagined your hands on her, or even her hands pressed onto your body, she couldn’t help but ponder Madame Kaji’s words once more…she wanted you in a way that could be considered a form of worship.

“Have you found your desire?”

Madame Kaji’s words cut through Mizu’s elevated state as she stared through the warmth of her glasses wide eyed, swallowing back the embarrassment accumulated from the strangely detailed scenario. Mizu only shook her head in response, replying in a hesitant voice firmly.

She shut her eyes under the facade of being calm, her fingers pressed to the wood before dragging it across to slide the window closed as she pursed her lips shut.

“Desire is beyond the need of my purpose.”

A/N: bye I have midterms next week anyway this is fine but like yall voted for this don’t even

ily all no matter how freaky yall are (im acting like I’m not)

I was gnawing at the bars of my enclosure writing this and it’s 2 am I’m sleepy gn.

[chlix]

treatment resistant

bf! chan x fem! reader: he comforts you during a mental health episode

pairing: chan x reader

genre: ANGST like seriously, turns into comfort at the end tho 🙏🏾

word count: 4.7k

warnings: graphic depictions of depression, anxiety/anxiety attacks, and psychosis (paranoia); self worth issues; general self-loathing

a/n: i wrote this in one sitting about six months ago and deliberated posting it, but it's almost the end of the year so i feel like i should release it. i used to feel so validated by fics where reader is depressed and gets comforted, but she was never as depressed as i sometimes was, so i drew a bit from life for this one. everyone please be safe and read the warnings <3

It doesn't start with the dishes. In fact, you think your therapist might tell you that it's not about the dishes at all, but about your own poor self-image, or lack of emotional regulation, or about a thousand other things that are wrong with the way you perceive yourself and the world.

The truth is that lately you've been sleeping way too late and waking up too early, and you're so tired that you can't eat, which makes you so hungry that you can't take naps. You're between jobs and the outlook hasn't been great, your best friend keeps blowing you off in favor of her new boyfriend, and just this week you found out that your favorite bakery is no longer making the souffles that you've been using as a pick me up since you moved into this building.

You don't do well with change, or rejection, or honestly anything, lately. You wake up stressed and you go to sleep stressed. You keep your phone on Do Not Disturb because you can't bear receiving notifications. Just today you've talked yourself out of taking showers twice, only to have a meltdown when you tried to sit on your bed because you felt too dirty to touch your own sheets. You sit on the floor instead. You eat a singular banana for lunch, just to make your headache go away. Your headache does not go away. You feel both unreal and painfully solid, sinking into the ground and on the verge of floating away.

Your boyfriend, Chan, keeps texting you updates about his day, and answering them feels like an exercise in performance art. You scroll through your previous texts to make sure you're adding the right amount of exclamation points, that you're using the same recent emojis. It's like cosplaying a happier version of yourself. A better version, a version that he could love, as opposed to how you are now: greasy and gross and plastered to the floor in your hallway. The idea of him seeing you like this fills you terror, or at least it would if you hadn't burned out your capacity for feeling things already.

A new message pops up.

Chan: Hey baby ❤️ Was thinking of swinging by tonight after work? I can bring dinner with me

Just the thought of eating threatens to make you vomit. You suck in a breath and hold it as you type,

You: If you want something specific go for it! I already started cooking but we could have it another time

Chan: I don't want to waste all your hard work. We can have what you're making. I'm sure it'll be delicious :)

You: I can promise edible. Delicious is up in the air rn 😭

Chan: I have faith in you even if you don't ❤️. I'll be there around seven today

You: Okay! I love you sm, see you then! ❤️❤️❤️

You lock your phone and throw it across the room. Why do you do this to yourself? "Already started cooking?" You haven't showered today.  Normally you try to deter Chan from coming over when you're having a freakazoid episode, but now you've basically invited him in? You have to be normal for an entire evening?

You fall on your back on the ground and put your hands over your face, blocking out the sunshine that insists on steaming through the cracks in the drapes. Your heart is beating so hard you worry you're going into cardiac arrest.

Get off the fucking ground, y/n, you tell yourself. You have to go cook dinner for your boyfriend.

"There is something very wrong with me," you say out loud, very quietly. The silence of your apartment swallows the words. They vanish, as if never said.

You get up.

It takes you two tries to make something even passing as edible. Your head is all over the place, and you burn batches of oil and veggies before you manage to stay in your body long enough to finish making anything. It takes an embarrassing amount of pans and spoons and bowls to make something that should be simple, and as dishes pile up in the sink you feel stupider and stupider. Why are you acting like you don't know how to cook? It's not hard to make some vegetables in stew. You don't know why it's taking every appliance in your kitchen and all of your concentration to execute such a simple task.

By the time you're done cooking, you've stressed yourself out enough that you're getting a tension headache. You close your eyes and brace yourself against the sink, rallying yourself.

Just do these dishes and then you can sit down, you think. Just one more thing.

You pick up a sponge.

You put the sponge down.

There is no way you can do these dishes.

It doesn't so much hit you like a train as the realization slowly creeps up on you. It's not that many dishes, really. It looks like a lot, because the pots and bowls are so large, but numerically there's very few items in your sink. It wouldn't even take 30 minutes to clean everything and leave it in the rack for later.

But that's not happening. The idea fills you with a cold and genuine dread, just as strong and perverse as when you'd tried to shower earlier, or sit on your bed. You can't turn on the tap because then the water will touch you, and it will feel Wrong, and then your whole body will feel Wrong, and then you'll die of Sudden Onset Wrongness. And now that you think about it, a lot of your anxiety today has revolved around water, and isn't that a symptom of rabies? Hydrophobia? Did you get rabies somehow? Would you know if you had rabies? Maybe that's the thing that's wrong with you- you're not depressed or insane or just a terrible person living a terrible life. You're just rabid. There's something eating your brain, and that's what's making you into such a fucking failure of a person.

While you're debating the possibility of brain-eating viruses, Chan comes home from work. You automatically turn towards him, a bright smile on your face, and rush to greet him.

"Hey, Channie!" you say, bouncing over to him with a pep you do not feel. "I'm so happy you're here!"

And you are, mostly. You love your boyfriend, really you do. He's loving and attentive, and he's never made you feel like anything less than the number one priority in his life. You have similar values and work ethics, which keeps you on the same page through most difficult periods in either of your lives and careers. You haven't been together long, but your bond is solid, and you really believe you're going to make it far together.

You also really believe you won't if he ever finds out what a complete nutcase you are. So you hide it. You grin at him and you appear light and joyful and easygoing and you brush off his concerns with adages and placations, and you redirect the conversation back to him, because you're a good listener and you love the sound of his voice and you much prefer that activity to any activity that involves you explaining how you laid on the floor for five hours and had an emotional breakdown while slicing cabbage. He has other things to worry about, other problems to solve without adding yourself to the list. You're supposed to be his respite, not another draining task. He doesn't need to know how hard it's been lately. You shouldn't have to say it.

So he doesn't. And you don't.

"Hey baby," he says. He sets his stuff down and kisses you in greeting. "How was your day?"

"Okay," you say. The answer feels curt, but you don't want to ruminate any more on your absolutely fruitless afternoon.

Chan doesn't comment on your strange answer. He takes his shoes off and hangs up his coat, and as he's about to walk past you he spots the mountain of dishes in the kitchen.

"Oh, were you about to do the dishes? I can do them if you'd like."

"You just got home," you protest. "You should go sit down."

"But you've been standing just as long cooking dinner, right? I should do my part."

His insistence is making something terrible expand in your gut. Instead of being flattered at his offer to help, his words feel like a violent condemnation. You should've done the dishes before he got home. You should've finished cleaning the kitchen altogether, so that he can relax in a clean environment. What kind of stupid fucking girlfriend are you, where you can't even do basic chores around the house?

"No, it's okay. I already psyched myself up to do them, so I'll do them."

Chan hums in a tone that's either playful or mocking, you genuinely can't tell which. "Okay, if you say so. Don't be afraid to tap out if the dishes get the better of you."

Great. He thinks you're so stupid you couldn't do the dishes if you tried.

You subtly regulate your breathing as you turn towards the sink. Chan disappears into the apartment out of view, and you give yourself thirty seconds to push your freak-out as far down inside you as you can.

"You're not an idiot, y/n," you tell yourself. "You can do some fucking dishes."

You reach under the sink and pull out some disposable plastic gloves. They make your hands look weirdly swollen and unfamiliar, as if they aren't your hands anymore. For a bizarre moment, you're convinced that they're genuinely not, that someone else's hands have been put on your body. You close your eyes so hard sparks fly in front of you.

Stop being crazy. Do the fucking dishes.

You turn on the water and pick up a bowl.

Chan reappears. You flash him a smile, but say nothing. Chan grins back, all dimples and crescent eyes. He's so handsome it makes you want to rip your own skin off. You thank God every day that you were born beautiful, because you could never have caught his attention with your personality alone. He'd be completely out of your league, and honestly, maybe he still is.

That thought gets shut down and pushed away. One crisis at a time. You don't have hands and you might have rabies, but you definitely have a boyfriend who loves you. There's no point in kicking yourself while you're down.

You turn back to the sink.

You cannot do these fucking dishes.

"Work was funny today," Chan says as he moves over to the stove and opens the pot.

"Mm?"

"Just some technical issues in the studio. Nothing serious, but it gave us some good bloopers."

You pick up a glass cup. You can see your reflection mirrored back at you in the curve, and your eyes are so wide. Have they always been that wide? Are your eyes drier these days than they normally are? You can't tell, because every part of you feels both dehydrated and submerged under water.

"This is really good, babe," Chan says.

You blink. "What?"

Chan holds up his bowl. "The stew. It's great. I told you it would be delicious."

You let out a pleased sound. "Thank you baby. Your encouragement really motivated me."

It was the wrong thing to say. You have no idea how, but from the way Chan's expression changes slightly as he looks at you, you know he's caught on to you acting weird.

"Is everything alright?"

Shit.

"With me? Yeah, I guess so. I've just been really tired lately."

"On the job hunt?" he asks sympathetically. It's like a stake in your heart.

"As always."

He wraps an arm around you and presses a kiss to your hair. "Don't worry, baby. You're super qualified in your field. You'll find something soon."

You need him to stop touching you or you'll start throwing pans at the wall.

"I hope so," is all you say.

"I know so. Just keep faith."

You hum again, noncommittal. It's like you're slowly losing the ability to speak. And the gloves are too tight and the water is so loud and you're nauseous and your head still hurts and it's probably not even the stress, it's probably the rabies, it's turning your brain into swiss cheese as you speak.

After another tight squeeze, Chan lets you go and retrieves his bowl from where he'd set it down. You hope he might leave you to go eat in the living room, but instead he hovers on the opposite side of the island, and continues telling you about his day. Normally, you'd love to hear the play by play of every crazy thing that happened with his group members and managers. Today, it's like nails on a chalkboard. The story is endless, keeps weaving around other anecdotes and tangents and you wish he would just shut up for one second so you can pull yourself together but you can't say that, because he isn't doing anything wrong, you're just being crazy, you're a bad and lazy girlfriend and you can't even put your own issues on hold long enough to listen to your boyfriend talk about his day. Everything is wrong wrong wrong, and you're Wrong and something is Wrong With You and it just keeps going it never stopswhy can't it all just stop-

"Y/N?"

Your name sounds like it's coming from a thousand miles away.

"Y/N? Are you okay?"

You turn to look at Chan, see his eyebrows pinched together in concern. You have no idea how long he's been saying your name.

Very calmly, you strip your gloves off and lay them to the side. You turn off the water.

"Sorry," you say. "Give me one moment, please."

You walk past him and down the hall to your bedroom, where you very calmly and gently close the door behind yourself. You climb on to your bed, filthy clothes and all, and pull two of the pillows from the end to rest on top of each other. You tie your hair back with a hair tie, press your face into the stack of pillows below you so that your whole face is covered.

And you just start screaming.

Screaming is therapeutic, apparently. Or at least, it's on the approved list of emotional regulation activities your therapist had given you. As long as you aren't screaming at anyone, it can be an effective form of release. It helps you release the tension from your core and focus that nervous energy into sound and action.

You scream into the pillow as loud as you can. You aren't sure how much it's doing to muffle your sound, but the belief that it's helping allows you to let go. It's tearing at your throat, the intensity of it. Once you start it's hard to stop, you just keep going and going and going, as if you're expelling demons.

When you finally peter out, you pause for a moment, then push yourself onto your knees. You're dizzy. Blood is rushing in your ears. It's oddly hard to breathe, as if you can't get enough air in your lungs. Even the fact of your own body is too much for you. You wish you could abandon it, just for a moment. You wish you could observe this from the outside so that you would better know how to fix it.

Eventually, your breaths calm. The buzzing recedes, leaving room for rational thought. And your chest feels....lighter. No longer is there a bomb sitting in your sternum, waiting to explode. The pressure has equalized. You look down at your hands, fisted in your bedsheets, and they look like your hands.

Cool. Cool cool cool cool cool.

You think you can probably do the dishes now.

Gingerly, you climb out of bed and make your way to the door. You open it, prepared to put your smile back on and apologize for your rude exit.

Chan is outside your door.

His eyes are wide with alarm. He looks stiff, hesitant. One of his hands is outstretched towards the door, as if about to knock.

Your face goes blank, wiring short-circuiting as you try to figure out what to say.

"Hey, y/n," Chan says, slow, testing. "Are you okay?"

Your script restarts, and a big smile automatically draws itself on your face. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Sorry about that. I just got a little overwhelmed."

"Overwhelmed?"

"Yeah. It's fine, though. Come on, you can finish telling me your story."

You grab his hand and try to pull him away from the bedroom. He doesn't budge.

"Will you tell me what's going on?"

You turn back to look at him. "Nothing's going on."

"Baby, I understand if you don't want to talk to me about it yet. But you don't need to pretend there's nothing wrong. You don't need to lie to me."

"I'm not lying."

"I heard you screaming in there."

Ice flushes through your body.

"Ah. Well, it's like I said. I got a little overwhelmed. I'm not hurt or anything. Sorry if I worried you."

"A little overwhelmed?" He's getting frustrated now, put off by your blase tone. "You look like you're on the verge of a nervous breakdown."

"No, I don't," you say, because you don't. You know what you look like when you get like this. You've trained your expressions so well that your face doesn't flush. Your eyes don't tear up. You have to look put together, because if you don't look put together then you can't convince yourself that you are put together.

"Y/n. I know you. I can tell when something's up." He sighs. "I've thought you were a bit distant for the past couple of weeks but I figured you would come to me eventually. But here we are, and you're having an anxiety attack right in front of me and you won't even admit it."

"I'm not having an anxiety attack."

"Love, I know what anxiety looks like. If you'd just let me help-"

"I'm not having an anxiety attack. I don't have anxiety. I would know if I did."

"Everyone has bad days and hard times, baby. You don't have to be defensive. I'm not accusing you of anything."

"You say you're not accusing me of anything after unilaterally diagnosing me with anxiety?"

Chan lets out a long breath. "That wasn't what I meant. I just mean-"

"You can't just assign me disorders when you decide I'm acting irrationally. You don't know my medical history. You don't even know me that well. You don't know if my behavior is normal or not."

"You can't be getting upset at me for 'not knowing you' when it's clear you're actively hiding things from me," Chan says, patience thinning. "I see you're in distress and you're picking apart my wording? I'm trying to help you."

"I didn't say I wanted your help."

"You're my partner! Of course I'm going to help you!"

"You can't!"

"Why not?"

"Because-" You choke on it and slam your lips shut.

Chan's face is drawn in irritation. He makes a go on gesture. But you can't go on. It's like the words are trapped in bubbling tar.

Your silence stretches. Chan sighs and drags a hand down his face in exhaustion. He'd gone out of his way to come visit you and now he regrets it. You've wasted his evening and ruined his mood. It's only a matter of time before he realizes you ruin everything. Hell realize he's drowning in all your mess and decide to save himself, and then you'll be alone again.

You draw in a breath of your own, but you're still lightheaded.

"Why did you invite me over if you didn't want me to see you like this?" he asks finally. "You don't have to see me every day if that's not what you want."

All the anger is gone from his voice. He's being so patient that your own stubbornness is acrid in comparison. You swallow, hard. Every muscle in your body is tense. You have the pull the words out of your throat with hooks, one syllable at a time.

"I wanted to see you," you explain, stilted and pathetic. "I thought I could pretend for long enough."

"Pretend what?"

That I'm not crazy. That I'm not falling apart. That I'm normal and easygoing and a joy to be around and definitely not rabid.

It's impossible to say. You don't know what's wrong with you, but you know that something is. You can't do the dishes. And you can't do this.

Your knees buckle and you sink to the floor of the hallway.

"Y/n?"

You don't respond. You're just staring straight ahead, all your thoughts whirring so fast that you're having trouble parsing any of them.

"Y/n? Hey, baby, sweetheart, can you look at me?"

You blink, and he's in front of you, on your level. He's trying to look calm but you can see the panic in his eyes. It only makes your chest tighter. You're dragging him down, you're cursing him. He needs to get out or you'll have his blood on your hands.

"We need to break up," you whisper.

Chan reels back like he's been slapped. "What?"

"We can't- we need to break up. I shouldn't have invited you over. I'm sorry."

"I..." Chan is at a loss for words. "You don't mean that."

But you do mean it. With everything in your body. "We can't be together."

"Baby, I don't know what you're thinking, but we don't have to break up if you don't want to. I don't want to break up."

You feel sick with his sureness. How can he claim to know you better than you know yourself?

"You don't get it," you say. Your tone is unnatural, words strange on your tongue. "We just can't be together."

"Can you tell me why you feel that way?"

"Just look at me."

"I am looking at you. And all I see is my beautiful, wonderful, perfect girlfriend who is having a very bad day and might be making some hasty decisions."

"Not a bad day. A bad life. I'm fucked up, Chan." The words come out with such a quiet malice that it shocks even yourself. "I can't even do the fucking dishes."

"I can do the dishes, love. I said it wasn't a big deal."

"No no no. It's not about the dishes." You're struggling to explain- the words are getting twisted, the thoughts all merge together- "I can't do anything. It's not about the fucking dishes. It's about- I can't-"

And you burst into tears

"I'm sorry," you say. "I'm really sorry. I just-"

"It's okay," he soothes. "It's okay. I understand now."

He doesn't. He can't, and you know that full well. You shake your head, vision blurring from your tears. You're so embarassed and it's making you cry worse. You think you must look so ugly right now. He must be repulsed by you. You're repulsed by yourself, your own misery making your skin crawl.

"Can I touch you, baby? I want to hold you."

You shouldn't. You'll infect him. You'll ruin him and take away everything that makes him good. Why is he even still talking to you? Why doesn't he leave?

"You don't have to-to feel obligated. I can just- if you give me a second-"

"I don't feel obligated," he says, patient but firm. "I love you. I want to hold you all the time."

Something in your chest cracks. You're so weak. It's pathetic. But you can't hold yourself back anymore.

"Please," you whisper, defeated.

Chan reaches out and pulls you into his arm. You're both still on the ground, but he rearranges you so you can hide your face in his shoulder, and you do, too humiliated by your tears to be able to look at his face. He presses a kiss to the top of your head and your traitorous body relaxes without your permission.

"You've been struggling for a long time haven't you?" he asks. "You didn't want me to pity you."

You don't say anything. You can't bear to.

"Well, I don't pity you. I think you're very strong, trying to deal with this on your own. You made me dinner today even though you didn't really want to, right? That was very kind of you to do. You take such good care of me, baby. You light up my life. Isn't it fair that I should get to take care of you too? Can't I return the favor by helping you now?"

"It's not the same," you mumble into his shirt, because the magnitude of the two asks isn't comparable. You chopped up some vegetables and threw them in a pot. He is witnessing you have a mental breakdown in your hallway. You're not equally yoked. It's too much to ask of anyone.

"Whether it's the same or not doesn't matter. Love isn't transactional. It doesn't have to be equal effort every single time. This isn't a favor I'm returning. I'm comforting you because you're upset, and I hate to see you cry. Do you believe me when I say I want to see you happy and smiling? That I would do anything to ensure it?"

You finally pull away from him, wiping away your tears on your sleeve. "You might have to go find a new girlfriend then," you say, voice cracking from the tears and the weight of your despair.

"I don't want a new girlfriend. I want you." He's hesitant, but he continues. "There are ways of getting help, you know. We can try some things, like therapy, or medication. I can help you. You don't have to feel this way all the time."

You shake your head. "I'm in therapy and on meds already. None of it really....works on me. I have fewer bad days than I used to but they still leave me like...like this. And they just drag on....it turns to weeks and months, and I can't....I can't do anything." You let out a shaky breath and make yourself stop talking. Even after all this, the urge to hold back is engrained in you. "You deserve better."

"I think I decide what I deserve," Chan says. "I know it's hard to open up about things like this, but what's worse than you being depressed is you hiding it from me. How can we work on this if you're pretending it's not real?"

"I wanted to be good for you. I wanted to be...to be easy."

Chan leans forward and cups your face in his hands. He looks you right in the eyes, and you see that they're glossy with their own unshed tears. "I don't need you to be easy. No one is. I just want you to be you. And I want you to let me be there for you. In everything. Including this. I want all of you. Do you think you can do that? Can you try?" He wipes away your tears with his thumb.

You swallow harshly. It goes against everything in you, everything you've taught yourself. Chan loves you. He wants to stay. Even though it may all crash and burn later, even though he might still turn on you or reject you or give up on you and declare this all a lost cause, right now he wants to stay. He believes in you. And you want to hold on to that belief as long as it lasts.

"Okay. I'll try."

A relieved smile stretches across his face.

"That's my girl," he says, and presses a kiss to your forehead. It makes something like pride settle in your chest, as if the part of you that cracked earlier might not stay jagged forever.

"Let's get off the floor, hmm? I feel like you might've spent enough time down here today."

You definitely hadn't mentioned that. Maybe he really does understand more than you'd thought possible. You don't know exactly how to feel about that, but you allow a bit of gratefulness to come through as he stands up on his own and reaches a hand down to pull you up. You wipe your eyes one last time, let out a breath, and take his hand.

[d0llcuries]

hiii im new to your blog so idk all the rules yet but I was wondering if you could do a neteyam x navi reader ofc like when they first arrived to the reef you and tuk clicked immediately you both have a really close bond like you two spend a lot of time together weather it’s swimming together or making matching jewelry🩵 and that’s kinda how you and neteyam even started dating because of how much tuk would talk about you !!!! I hope this isn’t too much sorrrryyyy❤️ I love your work btwwww

TIDES THAT BROUGHT ME TO YOU

pairing(s): neteyam x fem!na'vi reader

summary: the sullys arrival to awal'atu causes a stir among your people, though you could care less about their presence. that is, of course, until a certain forest girl changes your mind

author's note: i fear there is an inexplicable pull within me to write yn as an absolute freakazoid in every oneshot i create. that being said, if you want yn to be normal in your request plspls specify her personality type otherwise she'll come out acting like winona rider from mermaids (1990). kinda fumbled this one too i should not be writing on my period 🧍

the first thing you notice about them is how thin they are.

their descent from the sky on their great winged beasts stirs up the sand in great, sweeping clouds, but it does nothing to hide the way their limbs, long and lean, cut through the air as they dismount. forest people. they move with a lightness, a caution that seems strange to you. the metkayina are not built like them. they are broader, bodies strong and firm, their muscles shaped by the tides and the weight of water. and their tails—their tails—eywa, they are so thin! practically useless. you wonder how they manage to balance at all.

you and tsireya emerge from the water, sliding off your ilus in one fluid motion, the cool spray of the ocean dripping from your skin as you wade through the shallows. the soft sand shifts beneath your feet, and your tail flicks lazily, trailing behind you as you approach ao’nung and rotxo, who stand together just ahead. tsireya pushes a strand of wet hair from her face, her movements graceful, her eyes immediately catching sight of the sully brothers—the skinnier of the two stares at her a little too long, his expression a mix of curiosity and something almost like awe.

you almost laugh when he nods in her direction, his voice low and far too confident. “hey.” (miles morales ahh)

tsireya’s face flushes a familiar shade of soft blue, and you cringe inwardly, the secondhand embarrassment hitting you like a wave. her reaction is painfully obvious, her wide eyes as she bends her head, a hesitant smile betraying her. you glance sideways, searching for a distraction, and rotxo is already there, as if sensing your discomfort.

“look at them,” he mutters under his breath, his voice pitched low so only you can hear. “how do they even manage with tails that thin?”

ao’nung, standing just beside him, snickers, his broad shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. it's the kind of laugh that is infectious, spreading like ripples across the surface of the sea, and even though you are not cruel—even though you know it’s wrong—you can’t help the small tug of a smile that curls at the corner of your mouth. it’s all in good fun, after all. forest people, clearly they have wandered too far from where they belong. surely they won’t be here for long.

it is not that you want to make fun of them, these strangers who have come to seek uturu, but something about them seems... wrong, somehow. misplaced.

you were still laughing when you caught neteyam’s eyes on you.

his gaze was steady, calm in a way that she didn’t expect, and she felt the weight of it like a shift in the tide. not accusing, not angry, but watching. taking her in as if she were something curious. something strange. her smile faded, the amusement leaving her as she pulled her gaze away, pretending not to care. what was he looking at?

you shift your weight slightly, your arms hanging loose at your sides as you observe the exchange between the sullys and tsireyas parents. she watches them with a quiet, thoughtful expression, her brows knitting together in concentration. there’s no judgment in her gaze, no hint of the amusement that had touched your own. she looks at them with nothing but curiosity, a flicker of compassion lighting her features. she catches your eye and raises an eyebrow, silently urging you to soften. you sigh, the weight of her gentle disapproval settling over you. of course tsireya would be the first to see beyond appearances. she always does.

you’ve known her for as long as you can remember, since you were both small and would spend your days swimming out into the open waters, daring each other to dive deeper, pushing your lungs to their very limits. she has always been the heart of your little group, the steady, guiding force that tempers ao’nung’s bravado and rotxo’s sharp-edged laughter. where they tease and taunt, she soothes, her voice like the steady rhythm of the waves, always pulling you all back to center.

it’s no surprise, then, that you find yourself drawn into spending more time with the newcomers, tsireya’s gentle insistence pulling you along as she helps guide them through the early days of their stay. you are metkayina; you know the ways of the water, the ebb and flow of the tides, the secrets that the ocean keeps. it’s your responsibility to teach them how to live in this world, even if you don’t want to.

at first, you hang back, letting tsireya do most of the talking, watching as she shows them how to breathe, how to move, how to swim like the metkayina do. it was exhausting just to look at them. lo’ak struggles to hold his breath, his frustration palpable as he tries again and again to stay underwater. kiri moves with a sort of distracted grace, her attention more focused on the creatures of the reef than the lesson itself. you observe them with detached interest, your thoughts drifting like the waves.

you don’t care about them. you don’t.

and then, tuk happens.

you hadn’t meant to pay attention to her. in fact, you had barely noticed her at all in the beginning, the youngest of the sully siblings blending into the background behind her older brothers and sister. but tuk has a way about her, a brightness that’s impossible to ignore. she’s all wide-eyed curiosity and boundless energy, so unlike the others, who carry the weight of their family’s uncertainty like a heavy cloak. while they are cautious, tuk embraces everything around her with an infectious enthusiasm that makes her impossible to overlook.

you catch her one day after a particularly long lesson, her small hands fumbling with a piece of seaweed, attempting to braid it into her hair for whatever reason. her brow is furrowed in frustration, her lower lip caught between her teeth in concentration, and something about her determination—her fierce little spirit—draws you in before you even realize what you’re doing.

“like this,” you murmur, kneeling beside her and gently taking the seaweed from her hands. your fingers work quickly, weaving the strands together with ease. “you have to twist it more. it’s not like the vines in the forest.”

tuk’s eyes widen, her expression lighting up with awe. “wow! you’re really good at that!”

and that’s it. from that moment on, you can’t seem to shake her. tuk becomes your shadow, or maybe it’s the other way around. wherever you go, she’s there, trailing after you with an endless stream of questions, her small footsteps pattering through the sand as she tries to keep up with your longer strides. her curiosity knows no bounds, and you find yourself drawn into her orbit, unable to resist the bright spark of joy that seems to follow her everywhere.

the first time she swims with you, her movements are awkward, her limbs too quick and too stiff, and she sputters as she breaks the surface, her wide eyes filled with frustration. “it’s too hard!” she huffs, pushing wet hair from her face. “i’ll never be as good as you.”

“you will,” you say gently. “you just have to feel the water. do not fight it.”

tuk frowns, unconvinced, but she doesn’t give up. over the days, you watch as she grows bolder, more confident in the water. you teach her how to control her breathing, how to let go of her fear, and she listens, her small face set in determined concentration. she clings to your arm after each lesson, her bright laughter ringing in your ears as she pulls you back to the beach.

and with tuk, inevitably, comes neteyam.

at first, you barely notice his presence, too busy entertaining tuk. he lingers on the outskirts of your time with her, watching from a distance, never quite joining in but never too far away either. it’s easy to forget he’s there, his quiet nature blending into the background.

but neteyam has a way of making himself known, even in his silence.

it starts small. you feel his gaze on you more often, the weight of it something you try to ignore at first. he never says much, never interrupts your time with tuk, but you notice him lingering just a bit closer with each passing day, his tall frame casting a shadow over you and tuk as she chatters on about whatever has caught her attention in that moment. sometimes, you catch him smiling—those soft, fleeting smiles that seem to disappear before you can fully register them. they’re rare, but when they happen, they make your heart stutter, a strange warmth blooming in your chest that you quickly dismiss.

he’s deliberate, thoughtful, always watching, always observing. you can feel his attention like the gentle pull of the tide, steady and unyielding. it’s unsettling, but not in a way that you dislike. in fact, if you’re honest with yourself, it’s kind of... comforting.

tuk even speaks about him sometimes, her admiration for him clear in every word. “neteyam would love this,” she says one day, as you show her to repair a torn fishnet. “he’s so good at everything. you’d like him, i think.”

tuk had been telling you some story about their home in the forest, her small hands moving animatedly as she spoke, when neteyam quietly joined the two of you. he folded his legs beneath him, watching with that same gentle expression he always wore when tuk was around. you paused, hands stilling over the bracelet you were working on, and glanced at him out of the corner of your eye.

“you do not have to stop,” he said, his voice low and easy, the corners of his lips lifting in a small smile. “i am just here to watch.”

you thought about running away, getting up and leaving after making a up some excuse to remind them that you had better things to do than sit with them in the sand making bracelets. something about the way he spoke—his voice so warm and unhurried—caught you off guard. the way your heart bested faster when he was around, the way you caught yourself blushing like tsireya whenever lo'ak opened his mouth was... unusual. it unsettled you in a way you couldn’t quite put into words.

the three of you sat there in comfortable silence as you finished the bracelet, your hands working on autopilot while tuk chattered on, oblivious to the subtle shift in the air between you and her brother. you were grateful for her presence, for the way she kept things light without realizing it. by the time you tied the last knot and secured the bracelet around tuk’s wrist, you hadn’t noticed that neteyam had been watching you the whole time, with a softness that made you feel like he wasn’t just looking at you. he was seeing you.

“you are good at that,” he said quietly, his voice barely louder than the sound of the waves.

you tightened your grip on the edge of the bracelet you’d been working on for yourself, gaze dropping to the sand. “i have had practice.”

he nodded, still watching you. the weight of his gaze felt like a physical thing, pressing against your skin, exposing you in a way that made you feel uneasy. you were used to keeping your distance, keeping your indifference like a shield between you and his family. you had learned to tune it out, the presence of others—your people, the sullys—but with neteyam, it was different. you couldn’t ignore him the way you did the rest. but neteyam was quiet, his presence like the sea on a still morning, surrounding you without making a sound. you liked that.

as the sun dipped lower, casting warm golds and pinks across the sand, you tied the final knot and slid the bracelet onto your wrist. it wasn’t perfect—nothing ever was—but it felt right, the weight familiar against your skin. you held it up, inspecting your work, twisting your wrist slightly to catch the fading light.

“that one is beautiful,” neteyam said softly, his eyes on the small woven beads, the shells glinting like scattered stars. his gaze flicked to your wrist, then back to your face. “you should make me one.”

you blinked, your lips parting in surprise. “you want me to make you a bracelet?”

he smiled then, a small thing that felt like it could crack open the horizon. “well, you made one for tuk. i feel a little left out.”

you glanced at tuk, who was too busy showing off her new bracelet to the other children playing by the water to notice the exchange.

“i do not know,” you said slowly, turning the bracelet on your wrist. “i do not usually make things for people.”

neteyam tilted his head, his expression open, waiting. “you made one for tuk.”

“you do not even like it here,” you said suddenly, sharper than you intended. the words left your mouth before you could stop them, and you could see the flicker of surprise in his eyes. he opened his mouth to respond, but you continued before he could speak, your voice quieter this time. “you do not like us.”

the truth of it lingered in the space between you. you hadn’t forgotten the way they’d arrived, tense and uncertain, the way his brother had snapped at you and your people, the way his parents had worn their worry like a second skin. they didn’t belong here, and they knew it. the thought had made you laugh at first, but now, sitting here with neteyam, you didn’t know how to feel about it.

for a long moment, he was silent, his gaze turning out toward the sea, his expression unreadable. the light of the setting sun cast long shadows across the sand, and you could hear the distant calls of the other children as they played by the water. tuk’s laughter echoed somewhere nearby, but it felt distant, like the tide pulling away from the shore.

“you are right,” neteyam said finally, his voice low. “we do not belong here.”

the words were a simple acknowledgment, but they landed heavy between you, pressing down on your chest. you didn’t know why it bothered you to hear it. they didn’t belong. that was obvious. but there was something in the way he said it—something quiet, resigned—that made you realize just how heavy that truth must have felt for him, for all of them.

“but we are trying,” he added after a moment, his voice soft. “we are doing our best. even if it does not seem like it.”

your fingers tightened around the bracelet on your wrist, the edges rough against your skin. you could feel the weight of his gaze again, warm and steady, and for the first time, you met his eyes without looking away. there was something in them, something that caught you off guard. not sadness, exactly. not defeat. but acceptance. a quiet understanding that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t so different after all.

you swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. “i will make you a bracelet,” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper. “if you still want one.”

neteyam smiled again, that small, warm curve of his lips that felt like it could light up the entire ocean. “i would like that.”

over time, it became harder to stay distant, your walls cracking under the weight of his quiet companionship. you didn’t even realize how much you’d begun to change, how your awkwardness softened, until one day you caught yourself laughing at something neteyam had said—really laughing, not the half-smile you usually gave. it wasn’t that you’d stopped being strange or different, but it didn’t matter so much anymore. neteyam had a way of making you feel like it was okay to be the way you were, that there was no need to force yourself into shapes that didn’t fit. the space between you that once felt wide now felt smaller, warmer, and for the first time in a long while, you didn’t mind the closeness.

he listened, the way he understood things without needing to say them. they spent more time together, sometimes with tuk, sometimes just the two of them, and slowly, quietly, something grew between them.

it was in the small moments—the way his hand would brush against yours when they walked, the way he’d smile at you from across the water. you didn’t fight it, didn’t push it away. you let it come, let it settle into your bones like the rhythm of the waves.

one evening, as you sat together on a small outcrop of rock, watching the sun sink into the horizon, neteyam turned to you, his expression soft and open in the fading light.

“you know,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, “tuk talks about you all the time.”

you smiled, “does she?”

he nodded, his gaze warm. “she adores you. she’s always telling me how you are the best swimmer, the best jewelry maker. she even started asking me to tell her stories about the forest, because she wants to impress you.”

her heart tightened at the thought, and she couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her. “tuk is very easy to like.”

neteyam’s smile grew, and for a moment, you sat in comfortable silence, the sound of the waves lapping gently at the shore below. then, quietly, he added, “she is not the only one who talks about you.”

you glanced at him, her heart skipping a beat. “oh?”

his gaze met yours, steady and sure, and the warmth in his eyes was enough to make you breath catch in her throat. “i do too. all the time.”

his gaze meets yours, steady and sure, and the warmth in his eyes is enough to make your breath catch in your throat. “i do too. all the time.”

you blink, caught off guard. a breeze rolls off the sea, pulling strands of your hair into your face, but you can’t bring yourself to move. his words hang in the air between you, sinking into your skin like the warm sun after a cold swim. all the time.

“why?” your voice comes out smaller than you mean for it to. you’re almost afraid to hear the answer, as if it would shift the ground beneath your feet, change the delicate balance that has settled between you both.

neteyam’s gaze softens, his lips curling into the smallest smile, and you realize, with a start, that he isn’t nervous at all. he seems sure of whatever it is that lingers in the space between you. quietly confident, like always. “i guess because... i think about you a lot.”

you open your mouth to say something, anything to fill the silence, but before you can find the words, a small voice cuts through the moment like a blade.

“hey!” tuk’s voice, sharp and high, breaks your quiet. you both turn to find her standing at the edge of the rocks, her little face pinched in frustration, her hands on her hips. “i knew it!”

your eyebrows shoot up, startled. “knew what?”

tuk stomps closer, her bare feet padding noisily across the stone. “i knew neteyam would steal you from me!” she jabs a finger in his direction, her small frame shaking with righteous indignation. “you’re my friend, not his!”

the words hit you like a slap, and you glance at neteyam, who looks equally taken aback, his mouth parting in surprise. tuk’s big eyes shimmer with unshed tears, and something in your chest squeezes painfully. you hadn’t even realized how much time you’d been spending with neteyam, how it must have felt to tuk, who had so eagerly claimed you as her own from the start.

neteyam steps forward, hands raised in surrender, his voice gentle. “hey, tuk. no one is stealing anyone.”

but tuk isn’t having it. her little fists clench, and she whirls on you, eyes wide and brimming with hurt. “you promised we’d make more jewelry! and swim with the ilus!” her bottom lip trembles, and she takes a step back, as if the distance will make the ache in your chest less sharp. “you said you were my best friend.”

guilt washes over you like a cold wave, chilling you to the bone. you kneel down, reaching for tuk’s small hand, but the little girl pulls away, hurt radiating off her in waves. “tuk, i did not mean to—”

“you don’t like me anymore.” tuk’s voice is small now, defeated, and your heart breaks at the sight of it, at the raw pain in her eyes. “you like him more.”

the words leave you stunned, speechless. you look to neteyam for help, but he stands frozen, his jaw tight, clearly torn between comforting his sister and letting her work it out. after a long pause, he crouches beside tuk, his voice soft and reassuring.

“that is not true,” he says quietly, his hand resting gently on tuk’s shoulder. “she is still your friend, tuk. i am just... lucky to be friends with her too.”

tuk sniffles, her little fists rubbing at her eyes, and your heart clenches in your chest. “but i found her first,” she mumbles.

you can’t help the soft smile that tugs at your lips at the child’s words, your heart aching in the best way. “you did find me first, tuk,” you say gently, finally managing to reach out and take her hand. tuk lets you this time, her fingers small and warm in your grasp. “and you are still my best friend. nothing is going to change that.”

tuk looks up at you with wide, watery eyes, still unsure. “promise?”

you squeeze her hand, your voice soft. “promise.”

after a moment, tuk’s shoulders relax, and she swipes at her face with the back of her hand. she glances between you and neteyam, her lip still trembling but her anger starting to fade. “okay,” she whispers, “but you have to make me another bracelet first.”

a small laugh escapes you, and you nod, relief settling into your bones. “deal.”

tuk brightens instantly, her smile returning in full force. “and you both have to swim with me tomorrow. no skipping!”

neteyam chuckles, brushing a hand through his braids. “we would not dream of it.”

satisfied, tuk gives a dramatic sigh before turning and running off toward the other children, her earlier tears forgotten. the weight of her outburst still lingers, though, and as you both stand there in the quiet aftermath, you realize just how much tuk’s words have struck something deep inside you. you like him more.

it isn’t true, is it? or maybe... maybe it is. you’re not sure anymore. the thought makes your throat tighten.

neteyam seems to sense the shift in you, his gaze turning serious as he watches you carefully. “you okay?” he asks, his voice soft, a little uncertain.

“i do not know,” you say quietly, your voice barely more than a whisper. “it feels...different.”

neteyam is silent for a long moment, his brows furrowing slightly as he steps closer, his presence a steady, comforting weight at your side. when he finally speaks, his voice is low, careful. “what does?”

you look up at him then, the words heavy on your tongue. “everything. you, me, tuk...”

neteyam's voice is quiet, almost hesitant as he asks, “is it a good different?” his eyes search yours, the question hanging in the air between you. there's an openness to him now, a vulnerability that makes you pause. you see him clearly in this moment—the forest boy with his thin tail, strong but out of place here in your world. his presence is unfamiliar yet comforting, the way his skin contrasts with the sea, the way he stands rooted even on shifting sand. the difference is undeniable, but it's not unsettling. it feels like something new, something good.

you meet his gaze, and in that instant, everything falls into place. his eyes, a deep shade that reminds you of the forest he came from, hold a quiet kind of warmth, like the steady burn of a fire. you're different, yes—he, with the wilderness in his bones, and you, with the sea in yours—but that contrast feels like a harmony rather than a divide. with a small nod, you let the truth settle between you, firm and certain. “yeah,” you murmur, a soft smile pulling at your lips. “it is.”

i'll proof read this when i get back home i have to go out now 😭

[ithinktheyloveme]

Baby, I Fall Inlove Every Summertime

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. Sunsets at the beach with Satoru

ᯓ★ Gojo Satoru x g/n reader

ᯓ★ cheesy fluff!!

ᯓ★ wc : 740~

a/n : been rewatching some 2000s romcoms recently, so this is gonna b rly cheesy and ironic hehe enjoy.

A beautiful symphony of waves gently crash into eachother, birds sing into the hazy orange hues of the sky, yet all you can focus on is your stupidly pretty boyfriend. You look down to see the strongest sorcerer, the Gojo Satoru, reduced to a fluffy heep, laying comfortably on your stomach. Most of the beach-goers have already settled, either already gone, or packing up, leaving the scenery feeling perfectly intimate. You peak at the silly manga Gojo's reading and card your hand through his milky white tussle of hair, feeling each soft strand slipping in between your fingers.

"What's wrong, sweets?" He asked while reaching out to your hand, his eyes lighting up with a playful glint. You chuckle at the feeling of his tender touch and continue brushing through his hair, "it's nothing...just wondering how the hell you can get this kind of hair using crusty 3 in 1 shampoo." Gojo abruptly drops his manga and pouts, looking up at you "Heyyy! It's not my fault I'm so perfect and—ouch!" He gasps as a flick lands on his forehead, cutting off his cocky ramblings.

From this angle, you can see the warm glow of the setting sun illuminating his heavenly blue irises in the just the right ways. You think you might get hypnotized if you stare too much.

He suddenly cups your face with his hands, snapping you out of your trance. Gojo's hands are warm on your cheeks, though still wrinkly from your previous beach endeavors. His blown out pupils dialate even more as he inches closer. "You know," he murmurs, "I could get used to this whole 'admiring' thing, since you're always sooooo mean to poor old me." He drags out his syllables like a fussy kitten clawing for your attention.

You blink at him, speechless.

“Owwww!” he whines, feigning hurt as you land yet another soft flick to his poor forehead. "You're such a freakazoid, Satoruuuuu!" you whine, trying to push him away. His hold on your face doesn't falter, now squishing your cheeks together. "But I'm yooouuuuur freakazoid, baby," he says, mushing your face against his palms. "Sato—" you struggle to utter his name. "Ruuu—". He abruptly stops his devillish ministrations, "Yesssss, baby? he chimes in a sickeningly saccharine tone.

Just as you're about to retort, Gojo leans impossibly closer to you, as if observing every inch of your pretty face. His mischievous grin never faltering, but theres a new formed intimacy in the air. And for a moment, everything around you seems to disappear--just the two of you, sounds of the waves crashing against the shore, the faint scent of salty air, and his handsome face perfectly enveloped in a warm orange glow. In his intense eyes, you see pools of celestia, vast and endless. His pale blue irises speckled with silvers of stardust and glimmer, swirling in his eyes. They hold the quiet majesty of the heavens, as though the very essence of the universe were poured into him.

You can feel the comforting weight of his body, along with the intoxicating warmth of his breath on your skin, contrasting the cold gusts of wind. A swelling feeling builds up from inside of you, softly squishing your chest. You divert from his gaze to fight your sudden wave of nervousness.

"Hey, eyes on me, pretty," he coos, his voice low and tender as he softly directs your face towards him. "What? Do I make you nervous or something?". You feel the bubbling warmth in your chest quickly rise to your face, now blushing at his bold advances. His teasing demeaner is still present, but now you see a glint of something else. "Cat got your tongue huh? What is it you were gonna tell me, baby?".

You shift your position to sit up, his head now laying on your plush lap. His words hung in the air, the tension felt ten folds thicker. Your heart was beating out of your chest, following the rhythm of his, as if mending together into one.

And suddenly, without thinking, without hesitation, you kiss him.

You feel his soft lips caress yours as he melts into you. He rests his hand on your face and holds you like porcelain, as if you're the most delicate thing in the world. The feeling in your chest intensifies with every touch, intoxicating you. 

And the world fades into the backround, leaving only you and Gojo.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

[hiiikiko]

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗 [deadpool x spidey!ellie]

caught in your web m.list | tlou m.list

“You gotta trust me, Sheriff, I don’t know her at all!” Spidey yelled from behind the bars of the jail cell, her hands tightening around the bars.

A dramatic gasp echoed from behind her, “How dare you say that?! Throwing away all those late night rendezvous and nights full of passion and sloppy sex?!”

Ellie groaned and trapped the masked vigilantes collar, “Shut it, you’re only making this worse.”

“Ooh, I like it when you’re rough with me,” she giggled and wrapped her hands around Ellie’s arm.

Ellie knew there was no winning when it came to her… ‘Deadpool,’ ugh, what a stupid name. This chick was the absolute worse, the way she was obsessed with Ellie gave her the chills… not to mention how this chick knew EVERYTHING about her?? Even her name?? On top of all that, she was annoying as hell and a total poser! Like, come on! She obviously ripped off Ellie’s costume, right?!

“Sheriff, please, she’s the bad guy, not me,” Ellie groaned and slumped against the wall.

“Sorry, Spidey, but I don’t see a reason why a ‘hero’ should hide behind a mask like some damn criminal,” he chortled and took a sip of his coffee, exiting the room.

“This is all your fault,” Ellie mumbled and leaned her head against the wall.

“How did it all come down to this is what you’re thinking right, dear reader?” Deadpool turned to the wall.

“What the fuck,” Ellie quirked her brow and turned to see who the hell this freakazoid was talking to…. she was talking to no one.

“Well, it all started five hours ago when I met, Spidey, the love of my life, the apple of my eye, the keeper of my heart, my snuggle bunny, my baby kitten, my.. well, you get the gist. I was lucky enough to run into her at the police shootout, she was tackling some lizard man and I was passing by when I saw the glimmer of red… I quickly helped her and may have accidentally shot a few officers… but, who cares about that right? Anyway, we made our daring escape and to this alley where I found out she’s a girl?? Like, whaaaaaaat?? I found out because I felt boobs when I tackled her, although… they’re kinda small..”

“Hey!”

“Anyway, so I dragged her along to this amusement park where she proposed on top of the ferris wheel—.”

“I was trying to tie my shoe.”

“We shared a romantic dinner at the pier—.”

“You stole a slice of pizza from a old lady.”

“She won me a teddy bear—.”

“I was trying to escape through a booth and the bear wouldn’t come off my hand because of these stupid webs.”

“It was the most romantic night of my entire life,” she sighed dreamily, “but then just as I was about to kiss her, this dumbass runs towards a police officer and gets us both arrested, me for breaking a few laws here and there and her for being the best person ever?? Stupid, right?”

“Uh, no, you’re an actual murderer.”

“I’m a changed person now, honey,” Deadpool quickly turned to Ellie and nodded, making a heart symbol with her hands.

“You’re just lucky they didn’t take our masks,” Ellie groaned and flipped her off.

“Ooh what would’ve happened? Would you have put me in my place? Handcuffed me? Maybe spanked me?”

Ellie’s cheeks turned as red as her mask, “Shut up! J-Just find me a way outta here,” she grumbled and paced around the cell, looking for anything to get them outta there.

“Oh, is that what you’ve been waiting for? Why didn’t you say something, I stole that pig’s keys two hours ago,” she dangled the keys in front of her, Ellie couldn’t see her face but could feel the smirk radiating through the leather of her mask.

“You’re the worst,” she grumbled and unlocked the door.

“You can’t say that in bed,” there she goes again, Ellie rolled her eyes and pushed the door open.

“Here’s the plan, we—.”

BAM!!

“What the fuck!” Ellie yelled as Deadpool kicked the door down and quickly knocked the guard out, reaching behind the counter to grab her guns and katanas, “A warning next time, will you?!”

“Ohh, so there will be a next time then,” she giggled and tied her gun holster around her waist, “Can’t wait.”

Ellie shook her head and made her way for the exit, “I sure can,” she muttered as she exited the building and swiftly put as much distance between her and that deranged woman.

Upon returning back to her apartment, Ellie climbed through the window and flopped onto her bed, rummaging through her backpack for her phone when a piece of paper fell out… it read: ‘Spidey x Deadpool xoxo’ and had a picture that looks like it could’ve been drawn by a toddler of her and Deadpool making out… and not to mention the 136 page handwritten smut filled fan fiction attached to it..

“Gross,” she grimaced and threw it into the paper bin.

That was when Ellie decided to never, ever get involved with Deadpool again..

[a/n:] I FINALLY WROTE IT YAYYYYYYYYY, kinda short but I wanted to write something today :3

[lowkeyrobin]

OMG I've had this idea for a while but fuckshit x shy turned confident reader where they're in the same class but fuckshit doesn't really notices reader until reader starts dressing for themself and does things they want to do instead of letting people walk all over them and fuckshit starts developing a crush and starts seeing reader everywhere !!! Thank you love you robinnnn <33

-♠️

STOP I LOVE THIS WTF ♣️ dw I saw the other thing ik its u bae ; love you too freakazoid ; thanks for requesting pookieeee hope u enjoy

FUCKSHIT ; confidence

summary ; fuckshit develops a crush on the new you

warnings ; language, censored racial slur, weed

disclaimers ; fuckshits real name is gonna be olan (like the actor himself) as much as I don't like it that much it's the best bet + I don't wanna make up some random name for him 😭🙏 it's just bc ain't no teacher is gonna call him fuckshit and stuff ; also I do censor the n word one bc I'm not black, two it's how ray and fuckshit talk, it's not overused or anything, I'm just not trying to whitewash their speech and mannerisms and them reclaiming that word is kinda important for them because they're black skaters in the 90s so 🙏

word count ; 1k

masterlist

You used to cover yourself up a lot, even during summer. Sweaters and long sweatpants and jeans paired with hightop Converse were your usual outfits, even in the blazing LA heat.

You skated here and there, not at any parks or popular spots, just around. You shared a class with Olan, or Fuckshit as he likes to be called, at school. You had 12th period history with him, where he sat next to you.

You were very shy and reserved, you never talked to anyone unless spoken to and spent your time in the back of the class just getting through your work. Every so often, Fuckshit would try to talk to you to little or no avail. He never really noticed you much in the hallway or any other class either, so he didn't have any other way to talk to or see you through the day.

He didn't know much about you, which is why he also didn't know much about how you'd let people walk over, use, and bully you. He'd defended you in class once, but that was the extent of it. He wasn't a bully whatsoever, a fuckboy, yeah, but he wouldn't make fun of you for some dumb reason like the way you dress or the way you bite your nails.

But, now, he couldn't help but stare at you.

He could finally see your gorgeous eyes again, your smile proving that you were much happier this way. You seemed so excited and confident. He even noticed you in the hallway talking to someone with a smile on your face.

He had to say something.

"Oh, shit, like your shirt. Gravediggaz is fire." He smiles.

You return said smile. "Oh, thanks! You listen?"

"Hell yeah, n****"

He sees the kids who usually made fun of you snicker and whisper a few feet away, but pays them no mind. You follow his gaze and get a quick look before rolling your eyes and turning back to him.

"Fucking annoying" You say, placing a finger gun to your temple. "You skate, right?"

"Yeah, why? You trynna hang?"

"Maybe" You chuckle and shrug, "Going to the courthouse, just wanna show off some tricks at that party. Wanna come with me? You'd make it way less embarrassing"

"Yeah, of course" He grins, "Mind if I bring my boys along?"

"Oh, please. The more the merrier" You nod, "I'll be under the left tree at six, yeah?"

"Yeah"

Safe to say he couldn't wait to talk to you later considering he wouldn't shut the fuck up about it. Ray had been making fun of him all afternoon while Fourthgrade filmed it all, Ruben's laughter prominent in the background.

He was basically bouncing off the walls as the minutes ticked away, time coming closer and closer as to when he'd see you again.

"Put your dick away"

"Shut the fuck up! I'm just excited"

"Yeah, excited alright"

"I swear to God-"

He basically sprinted out the door when it hit 5:50, leaving the others in the dirt as he skated down the sidewalk as fast as humanly possible.

He saw you waving for him as he entered, and he quickly walked towards you with a smile and a blunt in his hand.

"Hey" He smiles, offering you said blunt.

You take it and blow a puff out of it, "Hey, glad you made it. Where's your friends?"

He looks over to the side, waving to a group of boys who were clearly trying to look for him. The three nod and talk toward you two, talking about something you couldn't hear.

You wave to them as they approach and sit with you, joining the conversation about everything skate and music related. As the sun sets, the area illuminated by white and colorful neon lights, you get up onto the building, top of the stairs, to show off some tricks. You see Fuckshit and his friends watching you, along with many other strangers who were watching other skaters show their shit off.

You grind down the metal railing and hop off with a kickflip. You glance over at the curly haired blonde, who's shouting some inaudible compliments. You see his one friend, tall and blonde, filming with a Camcorder. You didn't mind, you thought it was pretty sick.

The youngest out of them, maybe fourteen or so, hands a blunt to the dark-skinned boy with the locs, both of their eyes on you, like they're scanning your high-school coolness level or something.

"Ayeee, that was sick as fuck!"

"Olan, is there something you need to share with the class?"

Fuckshit's eyes slightly widen as he slowly looks up at the teacher who'd caught you two whispering in the back of class.

"Nah, I'm good"

The teacher turns back to the board as you two quietly smile and snicker.

He can't help but get lost in your happiness, feeling comfort in your sneaky smile. He can't help but adore everything about you, from your humor to your skating, your music interests, it was like you were made for him.

The bell rings, nearly popping your eardrums once more as it dismisses you for the day. You walk side by side through the halls, taking the longest way through the school to go toward the front doors to leave.

"I just don't understand being a poser like that, it ain't getting you any pussy" He laughs, agreeing with your long tangent about how being new at skating didn't mean you were a poser, and that being a poser is lame. "Like what you doing when someone asks if you can do a trick or show them? You just paid for a deck to look cool?"

"Exactly! They act like we can't tell who's a poser and who's not!"

You reach the entrance, having to go your separate ways home.

"See you tomorrow, dude" You smile with a light chuckle, waving him a little goodbye as you step on your board to skate away.

"See ya! I'll bring those cookies tomorrow too!" He smiles and waves back at you.

Ray and Fourthgrade approach, confused and amused looks on their faces.

"Cookies? When did you become a baker, n***?" Ray asks.

"Shut the fuck up, I owe them"

"For what?" He asks again as the trio walk down the sidewalk, straying away from the street til they got off school property.

"Inviting us to that thing on Friday, and homework answers"

"Ugh, here he goes again"

[yandere--stuck]

Do YOU want a custom written work that you can pay for with money? I know I do, and I'm here to deliver!

Disclaimer: I can turn down commissions for any reason. It's nothing personal! It's likely for a variety of reasons.

There are currently THREE slots available!

What I can do:

Character x Reader, Character x Self Insert, Character x Character, Poly relationships, etc.

Character x OC, OCs in general (but explanations on the OC's personality and appearance is necessary)

Yandere, Platonic/Familial Yandere, General Romance, Angst, Horror, Hurt/Comfort or Hurt/No Comfort, Fluff, Comedy, etc.

NSFW

Gore/Eroguro

What I cannot do:

There are certain fetishes/kinks or ships I feel uncomfortable with writing, just ask me when you're interested and I'll let you know if I can do it👍

(Note: Please be specific with your scenario, if possible!)

Fandoms I've Written For Previously:

(Note: I'd recommend perusing the masterlist for examples! And you can ask for other media featured in the masterlist, these are just the ones I feel most confident with at this time)

Animal Crossing

Batman (Various Media - please be specific with which version you'd like!)

Bugsnax

Cookie Run

Devil May Cry

Five Nights at Freddy's

Fear & Hunger

Freakazoid!

Gravity Falls

Hazbin Hotel

Helluva Boss

Homestuck/Hiveswap

I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream

Moral Orel

My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic

Smiling Friends

Transformers: Prime

So, how are we doing this thing?:

I currently only take commissions through cashapp! Message me for my cash tag ^^

Half of the money will be sent prior to the commission being written, then you can send the other half once it's complete!

$5 dollar for every 500 words, so:

500 words - $5

1,000 words - $10

1,500 words - $15

2,000 words - $20

And so on!

Turnaround Time:

It may vary, but I try to get them done relatively quickly!

[nathandrakeisabottom]

When Sunlight Hits : Nathan Drake x Reader

Summary: After the events of a more-than-fortunate sleeping bag situation, you and Nate play chicken to decide whether or not your twin confessions the night before were in the heat of the moment... or exist even brighter in broad daylight. Warning: None! Just some fluffy quick-fic goodness! Reader is briefly implied to be blonde/redhead/etc. with brown/hazel eyes due to the specific dialogue some unrelated freakazoid wrote. Feel free to disregard.

Your first time. Your first time back. You almost can’t believe it.

You’re wearing a dress. He’s wearing a suit. And the drinks you both hold are only to soften the brutality that follows. For one brief hour, you two find the will to believe you deserve to soften, deserve to meet your worlds intertwined in the middle. Where danger becomes mundane, and where danger is born from the mundane. 

Born in a ballroom in Italy. 

“You havin’ a good time?” Nathan smiles with teeth, grip leveraging up to mindlessly swirl his glass of whiskey. It’s three quarters of the way gone, but that doesn’t near out-do your double drag of lemon drop. Or maybe he’s just better at holding it than you are.

“It’s alright.” You match his grin with your own, blood beating with the drum and twirl of alcohol, heart palpitating to be so close to him. He doesn’t move his arm when your elbows bump on a lean over the balcony. He smells like vanilla sandalwood and aftershave. Overwhelming. Perfect. “A bit disappointed I haven’t bagged any hotties yet.”

He laughs full and open— and your heart takes a breathtaking nosedive. “Well, there’s still time.”

His body leans further over the railing, eyes scanning through the stripes of jade, ruby, sapphire, amethyst, black silk-covered crowd, eagle-eyeing for a win. “Anyone your type?” 

And maybe it’s just the liquor that does it, cheeks flushed and making the whole room spin warm and possible, that makes you spitball a death-defying risk.

“...Sam’s single, isn’t he?” 

You take a half-glance over the rim of your glass on another sip. And Nathan’s eyes bug in some reaction you can’t quite decipher. Your heartbeat thunders for his reply.

“S-Sam?! Are you kidding me?” His mouth falters for a fallen grin, or maybe he’s just swallowing back upchuck. No self-respecting man would give the go-ahead for a friend to jump the bones of his potential crack-head older brother. “Please tell me you're joking.”

“And what if I wasn’t?” 

You trail, slinking up onto a nearby pub table bathed in white linen, ankle crossing over ankle. You play coy so you can ignore the way your hands start to sweat. But the alcohol, the flabbergasted way he looks at you makes it easy to forget.

“Nah… nah, I don’t see it.” 

And Nate leaves it at that before swigging back and emptying the last of his glass. A pathetically reasonless answer. But you need more.

Please.

Oh god please, you need more. 

“Why not?” The next gulp makes your thoughts warp. You’re far from sober, even farther from thirst, but your body does what is necessary for your growing fight or flight. You don’t even know the person who asks with such mystique. 

He says nothing, only tips back his head for the backwash remnants of a drink that no longer exists. 

“What kind of person do you think would be better?” You’re putting your life on the line when you ask it, balancing precarious upon a tightrope as wonderfully garish tulle collects sweat between your chest, between your thighs, beneath your fucking pits. There is no escape from what his presence does to your body, to your barely beating heart. What his answer could possibly incite next. 

“Better? Well, uh…” 

But maybe it doesn’t really matter. 

“Blonde or Brunette?” You swing back to standing when he’s pulled back abash from speech, palms swaying just barely against your laying skirt. You hope he likes the dress you picked. 

You know you do.

“What does that matter?”

“Just curious what you think.”

“Well, brunette would… pair better, I guess.” His reply warbles uncomfortable at the edges, reluctantly sets his glass down when no reason to hold presents itself. And you’d be dumb to not notice the way he eyes your dress— wishing with all your heart that he was eyeing you— sinking into bombastic, glaring hues for example. “I know you like color contrast.”

You hover on closer to him. It’s everything your body chooses without you.

“I–- I don’t know! Whatever you like best is fine, I’m sure.” His breath barely breaches past withholding hysteria. Downstairs: glasses clink, a gentle jazz thrums through the echoing space, rich crimson reds of parted, velvet curtains, satin cloth magnetizing to a triple dozen wealthy socialites’ curves, dips, hips, tricks. 

And yet his eyes are only on you, cloudy over and gorgeous sky, before they pull back once again. Shrugging shoulders do little to hide his timidity. It’s a way you never see him when Sam and Sully are around. It’s the way he is when your heart plucks over his safe, beautiful, gentlemanly visage and fawns. 

“Blue eyes?” And now textile has been added for sight, fingers carefully moving over the soft polyester of his suit, a touch you would never have the courage to give without the booze. The music. The dress. The solitude. “For the contrast?”

“Heh, I guess that makes sense.” His chest stutters for inhale as his warmth meets yours, quirking sideways smiles you want to taste and grin against and give love to. “Whatever you like.” 

You slide your palm across his back, nestle, thumb over where his shoulder blades sit. The places on his body you want to wring the pain out of. He takes a less than steady inhale. Form forced to turn towards it. And his eyes speak such tender shyness into yours.

You love him.

You want to tell him in the places he might actually believe you.

“How about someone sweet? Boy— man— next door type?” His eyes drop bashfully at the closeness, lips still quirking in that petal-soft grin. “Someone who will be good and gentle with me. That’s what I like.”

Your fingers brave farther, farther, farther, and the wool polyester translates into starch cotton and the big band below is playing smooth jazz you’d have to be an idiot to not think is romantic and the liquor bubbles and pounds and twitters through your skin so strong that it dematerializes any pointless barrier.

And you ask:

“What do you think?”

He finally looks up at you. His lips look unbearably soft, and in any and every other instance that you’ve known him, you would’ve near thrown yourself into the sea for even daring to look. But when you look back up, he’s only looking back at yours. 

“That sounds… nice.” — Soft, dreamy, distant. Like he’s a hundred miles away and inside your very soul simultaneously.

And you’re so stupid, so fucking stupid. 

“Do you know anyone like that?” 

And he’s stupid, so fucking stupid.

And so fucking brave. 

“Maybe.”

This time, for the first time, he doesn’t speak coy words he hardly makes coy, doesn’t reach for his empty glass to combat the nerves, to fix his uneven footing. Or maybe there’s just no more space for his hands to even reach with how close you drift. His eyes are soft and gentle when he looks back up at you, cautious and bearing all that the man with a gun refuses to. 

Or maybe just never allows himself to.

“I know one.”

And that’s when you finally, finally, finally—

Fucking finally—

After all this fucking time—

In the light of a full moon and a marble-sheened dance floor, outside the world of dreams, outside of secrets held in warm sleeping bags and claustrophobic caves and all the life you didn't live until you found each other, finally, finally, within your sunlit, unashamed reality—

You meet him into a kiss.

[miyyaori]

better treatment

➳ il dottore x gn!reader

➳ cw: DOTTORE, slight gore, implied stockholm!reader, gentle dottie <33

➳ a/n: feeding you freakazoids a late night snack while i get started on the requests!! i LOVED every single one of them and i'll get on them ASAP!!

➳ word count: 705 (a snack)

Cold hands caressing down the middle of your bare back woke you up from your light, drug-induced slumber. Your eyes fluttered open and then closed again tiredly, eyelashes kissing your dusty-pink cheeks. Torso bare, you laid stomach down on what you could only guess was one of Dottore’s dissection tables. Your head was to the side, cheek planted on the chilling metal. You weren’t sure if the metallic smell was from the stainless steel.

You could only hope.

“Ah, there you are.” You could hear the smile in Dottore’s voice. His icy fingers grazed along the sides of your torso, stopping at your waist. He hummed, satisfied, before sharing the silence with you. Goosebumps kissed your skin and you wished you could move; use your vision to warm the aching cold –- oh. You forgot that you had that gift ripped away from you moons ago.

It’s for the better he told you, and maybe it was. It’s an uncontrolled variable, dear. Though, you wished at times that you still had it. It interferes with the results I'm looking for. You didn’t understand how your vision could do how he described, but oh well. There was no igniting the flame on the useless pendant that you used to keep hanging by your hip.

Dottore’s fingers raking through your hair brought you back from your thoughts. His touch was gentle, but too cold to feel comforting. It came to you as a shock feeling Dottores bare fingertips ever so gently massaging your sore scalp.

You could've dozed off right then and there,

But white hot pain burned through you brighter than any star in the night sky. The scalpel slid effortlessly through the skin of your back with perfect precision, and you could feel thick crimson beads pooling at the opening. You wanted to scream, but you clenched your teeth together like it would somehow dull the throbbing burn along your spine.

“Any pain?” a playful tone laced his words. He thought he was being funny. The hand in your hair was pulling gently on your roots but Dottore was keeping your head from moving. You could feel the heat of your skin warming the table beneath you, the cold no longer prickly against your flush body.

“Remind me again of your medication.” Dottore was looking at you through his mask, his lips resting in a slight frown.

“I, uhm…” Your mind was drawing blanks and you couldn't help the pained moans slip past your pale lips. The slur of medical words always went through one ear and out the other. It was as if he was speaking another language. The way he gushed as he listed the side effects of each new medication made the tips of your fingers tingle. On one hand, he knew what he was talking about and there wasn't a single detail he missed; you knew exactly what to expect. On the other hand, it made you feel wary of how happy he was to explain to you about all the negative effects you would experience.

“I expected as much. Lack of mental clarity is commonly associated with your condition.” You could feel Dottore’s hard glare burning into you, disappointed at your lacking response.

Funny he mentioned forgetfulness, though. Often there were times you couldn't recall why you were under his care to begin with. But time and time again, he reminded you that you were with him to get help — that he wanted to help you.

You could feel Dottore slipping something beneath your icy skin. Your mind wasn't allowed to wonder because Dottore was pushing it deeper and deeper into your body. You were gritting your teeth together, praying to the Archons it would stop.

"Shh, shh, shh. Almost there, dear."

Dottore grounded you by running his free hand up the length of your torso and you could feel the effects of his touch in the pit of your stomach.

The needle piercing the flesh of your back, sewing your body back to whole, was nothing compared to the painful throb that ached your body.

“Welcome back, my dear.” Eyes resting for a moment, you imagined that there was a smile on Dottore’s lips as he praised you.

It's what made any of it worth it.

[honeybeeloxs]

Creased Paper

Billy Loomis x Stu Macher x Male Reader

Oh wow, I'm back... I suppose anyways this was a request, kinda getting back into writing, so if this isn't as good, it's whatever. Tried my best, and that's all that matters. Also, the Relationship isn't like stated in any way; it's hinted... aka not really at all. Y/N likes crazy boys, and Stu and Billy are said crazy boys without him knowing.

Y/N has always thought the new masked killer that just killed a classmate of his was pretty cute, Hell, he doesn't even know what the fucker looks like but he's sneaky, shifty, bold, and strong, Y/N's friends however don't take him seriously.

"Y'know… I think he's cute." Y/N mutters as he scribbles on his English homework; Tatum scoffs, snatches the paper, rolls it up, and hits him over the head. "Don't joke about that freakazoid," Tatum says, eyebrows furrowed, and let's go of the paper, the ends bending in a way that Mrs. Schiffer won't like, probably have a few points docked off for it.

"I'll have you know; I have to hand that in, Tatum," Y/N said, holding the paper close to his chest, his polo creasing the paper. Tatum's facial expression hardened, "Maybe don't joke about people who got gutted." She snided as she threw a grape at him. “H-How… do you uh… gut someone….” Sidney interrupted her friend's bickering with a question; she sat up, fixing her posture and blue shirt. Y/N looked down at his paper, crossed one of his legs, and began writing again, slowly tuning out the conversation, fantasizing about the masked psychopath, bold, stealthy, and strong Y/N could only drool over him, sneaking in and out of his house after having a wild night with Y/N's mom not even noticing he had someone over.

"Randy, you goon, I'm trying to eat," Tatum yells at the brunette teen with Stu mocking his girl, "She's getting mad, all right? You better, liver alone!" Stu laughs and looks around as Billy slaps him over the head, "Liver.., Liver… It was a joke." he looks around, looking for validation, only for Tatum to tuck her hair behind her ear and shake her head. Billy shook his head, and a little smirk formed on his face while Stu looked around, smiling and giggling at his own fucked up joke.

"Y'know, he's bold and quick; I like him," Y/N said to Tatum, who looked at him like a crazy person. "Right… anyways, I thought we should do a sleepover or something to cheer Sidney up. Y'know her dads out of town." The blonde said as she continued writing an essay for a book he hadn't read. "And you need new material; the joke about the crazy psycho isn't funny," Tatum said, biting her pencil eraser as she finished her sentence. Y/N huffed as the bell rang; Tatum grabbed his hand and met Sidney out in front just before she entered the School Bus.

Tomorrow was another day.

[jokenotfunny]

Revamped Rewrite of "Atychiphobia , 007" - previously :

Eddie / Steve x platonic!experiment!reader.

( i’m back freakazoids 😄😄😄)

You were born in Chicago, Illinois in 1971, living an ordinary life until strange things began to happen around you. Every time you were upset, objects would burst into flames or fly across the room. Your parents, overwhelmed and out of answers after countless calls, doctor’s appointments, (and even a few visits to your local church if you know what I mean,) you were finally referred to a man named Dr. Brenner. Promising to “help,” Brenner quickly took you in.

So now, at just three years old, you found yourself under Hawkins National Laboratory’s cold lights, meeting others like you—El, (008), a friendly orderly named Peter, and

By 1983, you’d been there a grating ten years. That was also the year you and Eleven made your escape. The outside world was chaotic and overwhelming after so long inside, and soon after fleeing together, you lost each other in the forest.

Days passed, and you were exhausted, hungry, and bruised from wandering through the unfamiliar terrain. Just when you were about to give up, a strange sound cut through the trees. It was unlike anything you’d ever heard. Hypnotized, you followed the sound until you stumbled upon the edge of a trailer park.

The noise grew louder, drawing you to a boy sitting alone on a picnic table, holding a strange object in his hands—a guitar. He couldn’t have been much older than you, but his hair was wild, and his fingers plucked at the guitar strings with a confidence that made the world feel brighter for a moment.

Eddie Munson, sixteen and ever the rebel, had no plans to play quietly. When he heard footsteps, he half-expected a neighbor (probably Mrs. Nolan) coming to yell at him. Instead, he looked up to find a kid in a hospital gown, bare feet covered in dirt and a wide-eyed stare.

“Uh… hi?” he managed.

You just blinked, eyeing the guitar with both fascination and fear.

As Eddie got off the table, you tensed. Eddie noticed your flinch, the dried blood under your nose, and the cuts on your legs, reminding him of the recent news about missing kids. This wasn’t some prank—something had happened to you.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said, putting his hands up. “Are you hurt? Do you need help?”

You took a step back, every instinct urging you to run. But then something howled in the distance, freezing you in place. Eddie noticed your fear and softened his tone even more.

“Let’s get inside, alright? I don’t want anyone calling the cops on us. Trust me, they’re not as helpful as you’d think.”

Inside, Eddie gave you a Van Halen shirt and some sweatpants. When you tried changing right there, he quickly stopped you, face red. “Whoa—don’t do that! I mean, not in front of guys you don’t know, okay?” You nodded, a little confused, as he explained and left the room.

When you finally emerged, Eddie set a slice of cold pizza in front of you and tried to get you talking. “Ever had pizza before?”

You shook your head and took a cautious bite, which Eddie watched, amazed as you practically inhaled the slice. After a while, he asked, “So… my name’s Eddie. What’s yours?”

You pointed at your wrist, showing the number tattooed there. “007.”

“Like… James Bond?” He joked, but your blank stare told him you didn’t know what he was talking about. When you pointed at yourself and repeated, “Me,” Eddie got the hint and softened.

“Well, we can work with that. Maybe we call you ‘Seven’ or ‘Van’—you know, like Van Halen! Or maybe ‘Ozzy’?” You nodded, and Eddie laughed, feeling like he was finally getting somewhere.

The next morning, Eddie woke up to find you sitting on the floor, plucking at his guitar’s strings. Normally, he’d have a meltdown seeing anyone handle his guitar, but he could tell you didn’t know any better. When he asked if you liked it, you quickly dropped the guitar and apologized.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Eddie reassured, showing you how to hold it and strum without snapping the strings. You asked him to play “the one from last night,” so he played Black Sabbath’s *Children of the Grave*, the song that had drawn you to him.

Eddie spent the next few days teaching you guitar basics and introducing you to all his favorite bands. You especially liked Sabbath and Ozzy Osbourne’s wild stories, and you loved when he’d crank up the music and start dancing around. “This is *metal*,” he said, grinning as he showed you the classic devil horns hand gesture.

You copied him, saying, “Metal!” which made Eddie laugh, thrilled that you were opening up. He even took you to Main Street once, disguising you with a baseball cap and oversized sunglasses.

But things changed when his uncle, Wayne, came home early. He wasn’t thrilled to find Eddie skipping school, even less thrilled to find a strange girl in his clothes, sitting at the table and listening to him explain D&D.

“Hey, Ed, can we talk?”

Wayne pulled Eddie into the other room, leaving you nervously listening as their voices rose. Eddie tried to explain, but his uncle didn’t want to hear it.

“If something’s wrong, you call the police. What if they think you kidnapped her, Eddie?”

“No way! She’s a kid—she *needed* help!”

The argument kept escalating until Wayne threw his hands up in frustration. You reacted instinctively, raising your hand and sending him flying into the wall. When the dust settled, Eddie was staring at you, stunned, and Wayne was slumped against the wall, wide-eyed.

“I didn’t mean to—I thought he was going to hurt you! I’m sorry!” you shouted, panicking. Before either of them could say anything, you ran out of the trailer, vanishing into the night.

Days passed with no sign of you. Eddie searched everywhere after school, but it was like you’d disappeared. He would’ve thought he’d imagined the whole thing if not for the dent in the wall and the silence hanging over the house since you left.

Two weeks later, Eddie was in his room retuning his guitar when Wayne knocked on the door.

“Hey Ed, i’m about to head out , try not to stay up too late, alright?”

See, Wayne had been informed my Mrs. Nolan, one early afternoon when he arrived back home, that after he would leave for work at night, his nephew would leave the trailer before trailing into the woods for hours at a time. sometimes not until the early hours of the morning.

Which lead to another argument between the two munson men. Shouts of "she's a nosy bitch, who should worry about what her husband does at night instead of my shit!" and "Watch your mouth! If she wasn't watching, what would i do if you went missing too, one night, huh?!"

After that Eddie stopped going out at night, and he also didn't talk much, unless spoken to by Wayne first.

“Okay. Have a good night.” Eddie said monotonously, not looking up from his guitar.

“Oh! and uh, I ran into Garrett from the photo shop. Said these were yours.”

Wayne tossed him a manila envelope, before taking his leave. After a few minutes of back and forth glances at the thing, he finally picked it up out if curiosity.

Inside was a single photo: you and Eddie at the general store, doing the metal sign with your tongues out, smiling.

Eddie’s eyes widened in shock, his breath stuttering a bit. He had proof now—not to show anyone, but proof that you were real, that he hadn’t imagined his “coolest kid ever.” He quickly scribbled “Eddie & Van, Nov. 1983” on the back of the picture and pinned it next to his guitar.

He didn’t know if he’d ever see you again, but at least now he’d have a memory.

It would be three more years before you crossed paths again.

But that’s a story for another time.

[adidastain]

gestures of affection

90s trey parker x fem reader (unnamed)

warnings: suggestive dialogue

notes: first person perspective (I, me, my, etc.)

word count: 2218

—

“I fucking hate my job,” I groaned under my breath, closing my door rather violently. I didn’t notice the body on my sofa until it spoke.

“That comes as a surprise,” Trey said. It took me a moment to process that he was being sarcastic. He looked quite comfortable; his entire body was sprawled out over the entire length of my couch. He was eating some leftover pasta.

He startled me, but I was relieved to see him. It wasn’t uncommon for him to drop in unannounced, but it usually wasn’t until 9 or 10.

“What, you just come and go, acting like you own the place now?” I teased him, tossing my jacket onto his head.

“I had a day off,” he explained, removing my hoodie from his face and placing it at the top of the couch.

I walked over to the fridge, looking to see what food there was. “And you think you can just eat my leftovers?” I gasped, grasping my chest in fake shock.

Trey stood up and came up to me in the kitchen, taking the last few bites of pasta right in front of my face. “Oh, this is your pasta?” He said, teasing me.

I stared at him, trying not to show him that I was amused. He finished the pasta and tossed his dishes in the sink, rinsing them out. “Pardon,” he said, reaching to open the fridge behind me.

I didn’t move, making him have to brush up on me in order to reach inside the fridge. His chest met mine as his arm snaked into the top shelf to grab a Coke. I couldn’t hold in my laughter as his cheek brushed mine.

“Sorry, am I in your way?” I asked, placing my hands on each side of his torso.

Trey hummed. “No,” he said softly. He planted a few small kisses below my jaw, his free hand snaking up to hold my waist as he closed the refrigerator with his other hand.

He was so annoying. I loved that about him.

Trey reached behind my head to take the plastic claw clip out of my hair, running his fingers through it and pulling my body closer to him. His lips lingered on a sensitive spot behind my ear. He knew damn well it was gonna give me goosebumps.

“Trey, no. I’m so gross right now,” I laughed, grabbing a fistful of his hair.

“Maybe I like it,” He argued, furrowing his eyebrows in disbelief. He looked at me straight on, tucking some of my hair behind my ear. “How would you know?”

“Well, the excruciating 9 hours of work I put in today along with the gallon bucket of sweat I'm about to wring out of these clothes are pretty convincing,” I stated. Trey shook his head and mumbled something, before leaning back in towards my neck.

“Are you staying over?” I asked softly, trying to dodge his kiss attack. Trey just pulled me closer and hummed into my neck. I felt his teeth lightly dig into my skin.

I laughed. “Is that a yes?”

“Shh,” he whispered. “I’m trying to swoon you. I need to focus.”

I felt his hands slip underneath the hem of my shirt, fingertips ghosting the already goose-bump covered skin of my torso. They were cold in contrast to his lips, which continued moving up and down my neck and shoulders.

“I can’t let you go any further,” I grimaced. “I need a shower.”

“No,” he mumbled into my neck. Trey wrapped his arms around me tightly, hugging me as he continued to kiss along my jaw.

“I will hit you in the balls. Let go,” I threatened, lightheartedly of course.

“Fine,” he huffed.

“And put some socks on, freak. I don’t want your disgusting freakazoid toe germs all over my couch,” I teased, poking him in the stomach as I turned around and made my way to my bedroom.

“Think of it as a token of my love. Dost thou not appreciate my gestures of affection to thee?” Trey announced, allowing himself to move back into the living room. I rolled my eyes and closed my bedroom door behind me.

I tried to spend as little time in the shower as possible, but I kept falling asleep in my head. Part of me wanted Trey to invite himself into the shower with me, but neither of us were in any way at that stage in our relationship just yet.

I ended up deciding to shave while I was in there, just for the hell of it. Of course, this took an extra 20 minutes. My hands stung from how badly they’d pruned.

By the time I was out of the shower, it was an appropriate time to go to sleep. I put on an old T-shirt and shorts and went into the living room, where Trey was once again sprawled out on the sofa. This time, with socks on.

I crawled on top of him without saying a word, just letting my weight sink into him as I laid down. Almost instantly, his hand made its way up under my shirt to trace gentle shapes on my skin with his fingertips. With the other, he ran his fingers through my damp hair. It was heavenly.

“Thanks for coming over,” I said softly, my face half buried in his chest.

“Thanks for giving me a key,” Trey laughed. The soft buzz of his voice vibrated through his chest, pressed right up against my ear. I laughed softly, sliding my leg in between his. “I had to get away from the guys.”

“So you didn’t want to come by just to see me?” I said, propping myself up on my elbows to look at him.

“Yeah, I’m pretty much just using you for a place to stay,” Trey said. “Not even sex.”

“Shut up,” I laughed, rolling my eyes. I knew he was just joking around. It wasn’t entirely either of our faults alone that we hadn’t advanced to third base yet. I was nervous. I guess maybe he was too, or he wanted to wait as long as possible so that when the time finally came, it was worth the wait. However, I’m sure if I told him that I was ready, he’d jump on the opportunity like a savage animal. “That’s not my fault.”

“I didn’t say it was,” Trey half grunted as he sat up, pulling me into his lap. He reached over the arm of the couch for one of my throw blankets, which were all folded in a pile in a basket next to the sofa. He threw it over me, having me sit straddling his hips while he was sort of curled up too.

Trey’s hands pushed my hair behind my ears, making space for his lips to lay in the crook of my neck. His palms traveled down my arms and onto my waist, tenderly caressing me as he covered me with soft kisses.

“Trey…” I hummed, laughing softly out of nerves.

“I’m just kissing you,” he said, proceeding to pepper my skin with gentle grazes of his lips below my jaw. His hands slipped underneath my shirt once again; his thumbs softly stroking my sides. “That’s it.”

“Hm, and next you’ll just be squeezing my boobs, no strings attached. And then your hands will be in my pants. That’s all,” I hummed, teasing him.

“I’m serious,” he said. I felt his hand spread out on the small of my back, pulling me closer. Trey pulled away from my neck to look me in the eyes, glancing between them and my lips.

I wanted to die in his arms.

My hand moved up to caress his face, pulling him in. He kissed all up along my cheek, tenderly. It was so quiet, all I could hear was his lips clicking and my heart racing. The TV was on low volume and was playing a soap opera.

I turned my head towards him, closing off my neck so that he’d kiss me on the lips.

“Kiss me,” I whispered. It was more of a breath, it was so quiet. I wanted nothing other than his lips on mine, breathing one another in.

“I can’t,” he giggled softly. Trey’s nose brushed against mine as I pulled him closer, both hands on either side of his face. “You know I can’t. The smell of your shampoo has fucked me up enough already. I’ve been holding my breath.”

I rolled my eyes and kissed him anyway, feeling his body melt under me as our lips met. Trey rested his head back, taking it all in.

“Your problem now,” Trey sighed, grinning in between kisses. “I tried to warn you.”

I felt what he was talking about after shifting my position. I ignored it, keeping my kisses soft and lacking any intention other than to just be a gentle affectionate gesture.

Trey made it seem like he was drowning - like I was strangling him or something. “You’re the one who put me in your lap,” I told him, keeping my tone low. This earned me a small vocal reaction from him.

One of his hands took a hold of my hip, pulling me further into him. With each kiss, he opened his mouth more and more, and I did the same. Our kisses were still slow, but passionate.

I felt one of his fingers hook under the waistband of my shorts, so I pulled away. “Don’t even think about it,” I laughed, sitting up so my face was far from his.

His cheeks were flushed and he was breathing quite rapidly. Trey looked at me with the softest doe eyes he could possibly muster up, a small smile present in his lips.

He moved his hand, pulling me close again so he could keep kissing my neck. I heard him hum softly in bliss as he tugged my hips towards him.

“I think I’m ready for bed,” I said softly, using the same low, gentle tone I had before. My fingers made their way through Trey’s hair, pulling on it slightly in an attempt to lift his head up.

Trey whined, pouting as I sat up and leaned away from him. For the past few days that he’d spent the night, he slept on the sofa. Occasionally, I’d sleep with him there, but he never came into my bed.

“Come with me,” I said softly, kissing his cheek. I kissed a spot below his ear, tracing his jaw on the other side of his face with my other hand.

“To bed?” he asked.

“Mm-hmm,” I hummed. I kissed him softly on the lips before looking into his eyes.

“For real?” Trey whispered. He had the most awestruck look in his eyes, seemingly shocked that I invited him into my bedroom but excited nonetheless.

“Yeah,” I laughed. We both sat up, Trey somewhat frantically grabbing the remote to turn off the TV.

I led him into my bedroom, closing the door behind us and watching Trey awkwardly sit on the edge of the bed.

“You have to sleep on top of the covers,” I told him, teasing him. I turned off the overhead light and climbed into my bed, waiting for him to join me.

“Are you fucking with me?” He asked cautiously.

“Yes, nimrod. C’mere,” I laughed.

Trey slipped under the covers next to me, awkwardly adjusting so he was comfortable and avoiding touching me all together.

“I’ve had Journey stuck in my head all day,” he complained, laying down on his back and staring at the ceiling.

I turned my bedside lamp off. “Which song?” I asked.

“Uh,” Trey thought. I lifted his arm so that he could put it around me and I could cling to his body with my head on his chest. “‘Mmm… Tearin’ me apart… Every, every day’… something like that,” He huffed, singing the single bit of that song that he actually knew.

“The one that’s like ‘Na Na Na Na Na Na,’” he sang again.

“Yeah. I love that song,” I said, wrapping my arm around his stomach and pressing my ear to his chest. His heartbeat was soft but rapid.

“What’s it called?” Trey asked me.

“I dunno,” I laughed.

“That’s helpful,” He stated, laughing with me.

It grew quiet. I closed my eyes, listening to Trey’s heartbeat slow down as he took deeper breaths. He pulled the covers up further and turned to his side, facing me.

We both giggled softly, pulling each other closer. I felt his lips meet my forehead for a brief moment. Trey ran his fingertips through my hair, slowly and gently.

I hummed, reveling in the feeling. My body melted next to him, my eyes falling closed and my breathing starting to deepen.

I thought about waking up next to him in the morning. It was convenient that I was off tomorrow; maybe Trey planned that out on purpose.

“Are you asleep?” Trey asked softly.

I slowly opened my eyes. “Almost,” I hummed, grinning.

“Okay,” he laughed. “Goodnight.”

“Night, dickface,” I whispered. “I love you.”

Trey giggled. “I love you too.”

A pause.

“Shithead,” he added.

We both started laughing softly. “We’re twelve,” I sighed, closing my eyes again.

[angels-read-fanfiction-too]

Fanfiction Rules Time!!!

Please specify headcannons or story!

who i will write for (platonic or romantic)!!

Percy jackson and Heroes of Olympus (including octavian for those who likes freakazoids)

Harry potter (NO DRACO he makes me angry)

Homestuck! (only beta kids and beta trolls sorry i'm only on page almost 4000)

Garfield (Literally only john cuz i want him)

Ouran Highschool host club (no honey senpai unless platonic cuz that kinda freaky in the bad way)

Obey me (including side characters)

Mystic messenger

red dwarf

black books

Eltingville club

Spongebob Squarepants (yes i'm being for realzies. i want you squidward.)

IT (2017) but only platonic cuz i'm too old for them :P sibling stuff would be cool!

Rtc post and pre accident!

(will update if i get into more fandoms!)

What i won't write!!

nsfw (my sister reads this blog and im catholic) but will do making out and stuff like that :P

anything with draco (i hate him SOOO much)

character x character sorry but i'm a chronic self shipper

any kind of intense violence or intense angst! only small amounts followed by fluff because i like my fanfiction happy.

Will probably write a lot!!

sick fics cuz they're some of my favourites

Homestuck!!! cuz i'm super focused on it right now lol

neville longbottom, leo valdez, octavian, yoosung, equius and tavros because... heh heh you can guess why ;3

established relationship

dorky or like loser readers (sorry for the people who like the popular reader x unpopular character but i can't relate)

lots and lots and lots of cute fluffy stuff

i'm CRINGE! so just be aware of that

Requests are very happily open!!!