#i still love the slight panic and desperation in his reaching out in that one frame when yuujirou wasnt there

[chiisana-lion]

aizou is just soooo. boy who has had his views on love as a whole incredibly warped by his cheating estranged father and neglectful mother and (albeit guilty) brother who once abandoned him in that suffocating environment alone and yet still has so much love in his heart for them regardless

hahaoyatte especially really does convey his character and feelings regarding his mother better than any previous adaptation did. because really thats the core of it all!! thats why he wanted to sing in the first place!!! it had made his family smile Of Course thats all he knew how to do when yuko finally broke and while the trauma caused by her outburst at him cant be ignored you really have to understand even so. as unfair as it is even now he truly deeply loves her and wishes her well and always has been/will be important to him.

where do i even start with him towards yuujirou too. the guy who wanted to be acknowledged so badly finally being needed in turn. the one who truly revived his song again! the one who reminded me of the fun and why in the first place he sang at all!! hes always just a bit out of reach but inevitably there for him in arm's distance in the end. its no wonder yuujirous eventually become the one most precious to him who really taught him what its like to love someone. i fear only one person has ever truly understood me and i fucking hate the guy sort of situation for real. and he looks at him like this

[mingtinysworld]

Misbehaving pups

Pairing: Jongho x fem!reader x Yeosang

Genre: smut

Word count: 2.5k

Summary: Yeosang has given you and Jongho instructions. You choose to not follow them and end up bearing the consequences

Warnings: MDNI, dom!yeosang, sub!jongho, sub!reader, mutual masturbation, voyeurism, dacryphilia, reader wears collar, reader and Jongho called ‘pup’, hickeys, oral (m! receiving), edging once, blindfold, fingering (f! receiving)

A/n: so fun fact, I actually dreamed about this kinda. In my dream Jongho was on the bed like that and I was kneeling with my head resting on his thighs. I woke up and I was like wow, I have to write this. And jongsang is such an iconic duo, I just had to. Hope you enjoy! Love youuu, please like, comment and reblog. - Jules<3

Networks: @newworldnet

“Can we just be really quick?” You look at Jongho with tears gathering in your eyes, lashes fluttering gently.

“No Y/n, you know we can’t. If he finds out we’ll be in so much trouble.” Jongho looks at you with an equally desperate expression, eyes and mouth saying different things.

“I mean…he doesn’t have to know,” You cock your head innocently, trying to entice him further. “You’re telling me you don’t wanna touch me?” He groans at your pout, wanting to smash his lips against yours, but he remembers the warning.

“Do NOT touch each other until I’m home. Got it?”

You both had nodded absentmindedly then, not realizing just how challenging it would be to refrain from touching one another. You look at the clock and see that it’s only one hour before Yeosang comes home, and the thirst for defiance is running strongly through your veins.

“He didn’t necessarily say anything about touching ourselves, just not each other.” You speak with a confident tone, feeding into the desires of Jongho. He’s torn between wanting to obey his master and giving in to his needs. He gives a slight timid nod and starts to remove his pants.

“Ok fine, but if he catches us, you’re taking responsibility.” He grumbles. You beam at him and take your spot against the floor. You lean back on the wall and look up at where Jongho is laying on the bed, bulge noticeable through his boxers. You long to touch him, but for now you’ll have to settle on touching yourself.

You slide your panties to the side and start circling around on your clit, moving in languid strokes. You hear a groan and force yourself to look up at Jongho, who has taken down his boxers and started touching himself softly. His cock stands tall with arousal, the tip leaking precum. You bite your lip hard and refrain from being too loud, needing to look out for the sound of Yeosang’s arrival.

“Ahh it feels too good.” You let out a pleased whimper, circling even faster. You can feel your wetness seeping out and slide in a finger. You train your eyes on Jongho’s hand going up and down, spreading his wetness around, resulting in a lewd squelching sound. You clench around your finger at the sight and bite your lip, so badly wanting to have him in your mouth.

Jongho grunts as he goes faster, his head thrown back and eyes shut tight. His breathing intensifies and sparks go up his spine. You add a second finger, moaning at the insufficient length of your fingers, needing something longer to reach your sweet spot.

Jongho cries out and his stomach convulses as he comes with thick spurts of cum coating his skin. He lets out a strangled whimper and clutches the sheets firmly. Right at that moment, the door squeaks open and in comes the form of Yeosang.

You squeak as you catch his eyes and remove your fingers at the speed of lightning. Jongho, still in his post orgasm aftershock, is too heavy in a daze to feel alarmed. Yeosang walks in slowly, with deliberate steps, taking in the sight of his puppies misbehaving.

“What’s happening here?” He speaks in a controlled low tone.

You feel your throat close up in panic and stutter pathetically, while Jongho just makes tiny whimpers. Yeosang crouches in front of you and dips a finger under your collar to make you look up at him. Your neck strains with tension but you don’t dare make a sound. You see the fire in his eyes and know you’re in for a long night.

He looks at your wide glossy eyes and tries to keep his gaze away from your plump spit covered lips. He just looks at you for a few moments and your heart beats faster and faster, feeling the need to explain yourself.

“I know you said to not touch each other while you’re gone, but y-you didn’t say anything about touching ourselves.” You explain, with a quiet voice.

“Don’t be a smart ass, you know damn well what’s allowed and what’s not.”

You open your mouth to speak but the look in his eyes tells you not to. “Don’t make it worse for yourself.”

He lets go of you and scoots to where Jongho is on the bed. Jongho casts his eyes downwards, too embarrassed to look Yeosang in the eyes. He fidgets with his fingers and gives a meek apology.

“I’m sorry sir, I’ve been bad.” He bows his head in shame, and Yeosang can’t help but feel a glimmer of pity for the man. He knows that you’re probably the one who influenced him to be bad, so he decides to go slightly easier on him. Without looking away from him, he addresses you.

“Y/n, come kneel by the bed.” He directs with a commanding tone, no space for an argument present.

You do as he says and crawl to the bed to kneel at his feet. You look up at him and await his next instructions patiently. He stands up to sit on the other side of Jongho, furthest from you.

“Lay your head on his thighs.”

You obey once more and lay your head on him, cheek against his thigh. At this proximity, his cock is right by your face, as if taunting you. If you were to stick your tongue out, you would’ve been able to feel him. Yeosang approves with a hum and turns to the side table to get something out. He fishes through the drawers and emerges with a silk blindfold. He gently wraps the fabric around Jongho and cups his face to caress him.

“You’re still my good boy aren’t you?” He asks in a soothing tone. Jongho’s heart skips a beat and he flushes.

“Yes sir, I am.” He answers earnestly.

Yeosang proceeds to peel his shirt off and he prompts Jongho to take his off as well. Seeing both of their exposed chests fills you with sparks, as if fireworks went off. Desperately needing a release, you whimper, but Yeosang doesn’t even bat an eye. He throws a leg over Jongho and straddles him, your face being mere inches from his butt. You grumble unhappily and Yeosang clicks his tongue disapprovingly.

“Don’t complain, this is your punishment. Stay still and don’t make a sound. It’s your own doing.”

He crashes his lips against Jongho and kisses him passionately. He holds onto his shoulders and his hips move against his own will. He grinds down onto Jongho’s once again hardening erection, eliciting sweet moans from his mouth. As the two are heavily making out, you can’t help but squirm from being able to hear but not see them. Your thighs are slick with arousal and you’re reminded of your stolen orgasm from earlier.

“Please sir, let me at least look.” You softly cry out, needing something to satiate you.

“Do not speak unless spoken to.” He growls against Jongho’s mouth.

You close your eyes in resignation, but can’t help but feel guilty and needy. You’re sorry for disobeying Yeosang, but you’re also so desperate for an orgasm that you’d do anything. Your eyes fill up with tears and you do your best to hide your impending crying. The tears drop silently for a few moments but soon sobs come accompanied by hiccups.

As soon as Yeosang hears your cries, he stops his movements and moves off of Jongho to face you. You finally get a glimpse of Jongho’s red and bruised lips, made pretty by Yeosang. Yeosang reaches out to stroke your hair, which would usually be a soothing motion, but it makes you cry even harder.

“Aw pup, this is overwhelming isn’t it?” He coos at you and wipes your tears away with his thumb. “Alright, I’ll let you watch.” You whimper in relief and open your tear stained eyes to watch.

He slots his lips against Jongho’s once more, but this time he angles his body in a way so that you have a clear view. Yeosang takes an opportunity to twist Jongho’s nipple. He whines into his mouth and bucks his hips up, right by your face. Yeosang keeps pinching and twisting as Jongho flails around helplessly.

“You’re so shameless. Doing whatever Y/n tells you to do. You know better.”

After a few moments, Yeosang turns to you with an evil grin. He grabs your hair and yanks you up so that your head is no longer laying down. You yelp in pain but say nothing in fear you’ll anger him further.

“I want you to get him so close to the edge but don’t let him cum.”

Your eyes widen at Yeosang. He’s never made you do something like this before. Only he’s ever edged you or Jongho, but never instructed one of you to do it. You nod at him, signaling that you’ll go through with his request. He lets go of your hair and your eyes fall onto the very red tip of Jongho’s cock. Even though he’s already come once, he looks eager to get a second release. One that’s not gonna come easily though.

You latch your lips around the tip and hollow your cheeks. You wish that you could see his beautiful eyes reacting to you, but you can settle for the twitches and jerks in his body. He bucks up, wanting to go deeper in your mouth. Yeosang however will not let him. He holds down Jongho’s hips firmly and Jongho lets out a whine of complaint.

You lick the underside of his shaft, slowly going up. One of your favorite things is to tease Jongho, him never failing to give a pleasing reaction. You sink down completely and he groans unabashedly. You can feel him in the back of your throat and you instinctively try to swallow, resulting in you choking awkwardly. You hold out though, keeping him in there for a few moments.

You come up for air and take in deep breaths before continuing. You go up and down, using your hand for the exposed part. Yeosang looks on as if he’s mesmerized. He can’t believe how much he lucked out by having you two being his.

“P-please, please let me come.” Jongho’s voice sounds so desperate it makes your core throb with need. You make eye contact with Yeosang and he shakes his head slowly, telling you not to let him come.

As much as you want to have your mouth filled with Jongho’s seed, you obey Yeosang and rip away his orgasm. You pop off of him abruptly and immediately Jongho whines like a child. He sniffles and you see the tears falling past the blindfold. You clench around nothing at the sight of him crying, and look to Yeosang for the next instructions.

You two lock eyes and he gives you one approving nod. You take this positive reaction in stride and dive down on Jongho again, this time with a mission to make him come as hard as possible.

“Oh god.” Jongho lets out a broken wail, hands searching to hold on to anything to ground himself. You hollow your cheeks and go deeper and deeper. Jongho can’t hold it anymore and he grabs ahold of your hair, pulling you up and down on him. Gurgling noises are heard and Yeosang can’t help but palm himself through his pants.

You let out a helpless muffled moan as Jongho thrusts his hips upward, chasing his high. You close your teary eyes, not even doing anything at this point, simply taking it all. After a few more shallow thrusts Jongho comes in your mouth, white painting your mouth and throat. The liquid dribbles down your chin and onto his pelvis. Yeosang lifts you up by your collar and you take a deep gasp of air, oxygen filling your lungs. Yeosang takes a finger and scoops up the cum, having a taste of the bittersweet essence.

“Mmm you taste so good.” He closes his eyes, savoring the flavor. Jongho twitches with sensitivity and touches Yeosang to tell him that he wants the blindfold off. Yeosang takes it off and Jongho squints from the harsh light. His eyes are red and wet, and his cheeks are streaked with tears. He takes in your mess of a face and takes a deep, shuddering breath.

“God I- you look so- wow.” He stumbles over his words and you can’t help but giggle. “But you didn’t cum yet.” He says with a sad pout. You look over at Yeosang and he pats his thighs.

“Come sit here.”

You get up to lay in between his legs, back against his muscular chest. He spreads your legs apart, legs hooked on top of yours to keep you open. “Jongho, you just lay there and watch.”

Yeosang dips a finger into your cunt and you moan happily, finally getting the touch you’ve been craving. His fingers go into a frantic pace as he draws out happy little whimpers from you. Jongho looks on, completely transfixed. His eyes are glazed over and chest is slowly rising and falling.

“You’ve been waiting for this haven’t you? You’re such a good pup, letting me do whatever. You feel so warm and tight I can’t even imagine what my cock would do to you.” He whispers the lewd words in your ear, sending tingles through your body.

“I want your cock.” You say pathetically.

Yeosang tuts softly and continues his abuse of your pussy. “Not today pup, I know you’re too tired for it.” You think about complaining but think better of it. You’re just grateful to get his pretty, slender fingers in you.

He fingers you with an unrelenting rhythm, not slowing down or giving you any chance to breathe. You can’t help but arch your back against him, but your body resists going any further because of his tight hold on you. He curls his fingers up, hitting a sensitive spot and you cry out. You pant like a dog in heat, every inch of your body twitching.

Yeosang attaches his lips against the sensitive skin of your neck, sucking in deep purple marks, humming appreciatively. He loves when you get so responsive, it’s his one of many favorite things about you. As much as you try to hide your noises, it’s no use because the way Yeosang knows your body inside and out is matchless.

His thumbs sneaks to your bundle of nerves and circles frantically, desperate to make you cum. You close your eyes and clench your whole body as you cum intensely, so intense that your ears block out every sound around you, making everything muffled. You can barely breathe, your breaths sounding like wheezes.

“Hi beautiful, there you are.” Yeosang pushes the hair out of your face, revealing your sweaty but stunning features. You whimper in response, too drained to get a single word out. “That was a lot huh.”

He grabs your limp body and lifts you off the bed. As he gets off he makes sure to give Jongho a loving and reassuring kiss, showing him that he appreciates and adores him.

“My most beautiful pups.”

[lees-chaotic-brain]

For You Part II (Gojo x Reader)

Reuniting after you're unsealed

CW: hurt/comfort, not canonically accurate, slight spoilers for the Shibuya Incident, swearing, alternate universe where nothing bad happened to anyone else and they all lived happily ever after after the Shibuya Incident, angst to fluff

Part One | JJK Masterlist | Blog Navigation

It had been nineteen days since you had been sealed.

Nineteen days since you had been taken from him.

Nineteen long, torturous days of fighting back against every instinct, every part of his being that was screaming to go get you.

Nineteen days without your love.

Running faster than he ever had in his life, he skidded to a stop panting.

You turned around and met his eyes, a tired smile gracing your lips upon seeing him again.

An anguished sound, almost a keen escaped him as he saw you.

Time seemed to stand still for a moment, then he was barrelling into you.

The two of you crashed to your knees, as he yanked you into his chest as if he was trying to fuse with you.

Just as quickly, he jerked back and cupped your face in his large hands as he frantically scanned you for any sign of an injury, something akin to hysteria shining in his eyes.

Soothed for the moment that you weren't injured, he pulled you back into his chest, and burying his nose in your hair.

Even after all this time, traces of your comforting scent linger in your hair.

"You're here. You're here. You're here."

He repeated those words like a mantra, reassuring himself that you were back, safe in his arms where you belonged.

"I'm here."

You croaked, voice rusty with disuse as you embrace him just as fiercely.

"I'm right here."

"Baby you can't do that to me. Fuck, I thought I lost you."

His voice cracks, and you can feel his desperation and panic in the way his body curves around yours, needing to shield you, to hide you from the world; to protect you.

"I thought I lost you. I thought you were gone. You can't leave me. Not now, not ever."

"You didn't lose me. I'm not going anywhere. I wasn't worried for a second. The entire time I was in there, I was just waiting for you to come and get me. Because I knew you would. And you did. You saved me. We're okay."

His arms tighten around you, and he moves his head, burying it in your neck as his lips hover over your pulse.

Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba dum.

Feeling your heart beat, some of the tension drained from his body.

"Fuck baby. You can't do that to me. You can't do that to me again. You just can't. I wouldn't be able to survive it. Please, don't make me leave you again."

He breathed, lifting his head to rest his forehead against yours.

"Please."

His voice breaks.

"Hey, hey, Satoru, baby."

You brush your palm against his cheek.

"It's okay now. I'm right here."

You kiss him gently, holding his face between your hands.

After a few seconds you pull away.

"I love you 'Toru. You're alright."

"I love you too."

He mumbled, and drew you back in for a tight hug, needing to feel you between his arms to relax and convince himself that this is real.

The two of you sit like that for a couple minutes, before you suddenly remember that the two of you are kneeling in a pile of rubble, and that you haven't seen the kids.

"'TORU! THE KIDS! ARE THE KIDS ALRIGHT?"

"They're fine."

He grumbled, tucking you back against his chest.

"Take me to them."

You demand, tapping on his chest insistently.

"I need to see them. Plus we can't keep sitting here in the dust and rubble forever."

"But I just got you back."

The Gojo Satoru you know and love is back, as he gazes up at you petulantly.

"I don't wanna share you yet."

"Satoru. Take me to the kids. We can cuddle later."

Unhappily he did as you asked, teleporting the two of you to your students, but not before securing you against him again.

As soon as you arrived, you peeled him off you, and sprinted towards the kids, yelling their names.

Turning and crying out your name, they run towards you, swarming you as they latch on to any part of you they can reach.

Watching the scene unfold before them, Gojo can't help but to smile, relieved that the people he loves are safe.

But he only tolerates them hogging your attention for maybe three minutes.

After that, he's entering the fray, practically chucking kids to the side as he makes a beeline towards you.

"Well, now that everyone's checked in, we'll be off!"

He said cheerfully before teleporting off with you.

You know him well enough to see that his playful attitude is just his way of hiding his true emotions, and that he is still suffering.

So for the rest of the night, and many, many, many, months to come, you coddle him, reassuring him that you're safe; you're not going anywhere.

On his part, he essentially super glues himself to your side. Like, you haven't gone more than five seconds without seeing him in months. And at night, this man has both arms, and both legs wrapped around you as he hooks his chin on either your shoulder or the top of your head. Full on koala mode; no one can take you away from him.

But most of all, he tells you every day how much he loves you. How much you mean to him. He does little things, to make sure you feel loved and cared for.

Anything bothering you at all? He's on it. You want some red bean mochi? He's teleporting to the store and back in minutes a whole bag of it freshly made. You're anxious and need reassurance? He has a whole cute couples night planned, complete with a movie, dinner, bubble bath, and more. He takes care of everything and anything for you.

After all, there's nothing he wouldn't do for you.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Note: Well I originally planned for this to be pretty short, but I got kind of excited and just kept writing. Hope you guys enjoyed it! Let me know what you think and feel free to send in any requests you may have!

Taglist: @phoenix666stuff @thefictionalcharacterssimp

[villainbait]

An Exercise in Solace

Pairing: Sylus x MC / fem!reader Rating: T | Teen Tags: hurt/comfort, hurt, comfort, PTSD mentions, reader has PTSD, canon sylus behavior, Summary: Today should've been like any other when you stepped into the sparring ring with Sylus, except it wasn't. Word Count: 1k

The door to Sylus’s bedroom swings open and he finds you sprawled out on his couch, holding this month’s travel magazine above your face. Your legs are thrown over one arm and you’re kicking them lazily back and forth as you turn the page. When you hear the door open, you glance over at him and pretend not to see him dressed to work out, your eyes flicking back to the glossy pages of paradise in your hands. 

“Hey, what do you think about-” 

Sylus plucks the travel magazine from your hands and you pout up at him. “You can choose where we go after we practice today, kitten.” To argue with Sylus is useless, because both of you know in the end who will win the verbal spar. You sigh, rolling off the couch reluctantly and popping to your feet. 

“...Fine.” You go get ready and prepare yourself for the hours ahead. 

You meet up with him again in the training room and find Sylus already warmed up. Thinking that was a little odd but dismissing it as his usual eagerness to spend time with you, you let him walk you through your paces. By the time he’s satisfied you’re ready to enter the ring in the middle of the room, you’re already tired.

“I won’t go easy on you today, sweetie.” Sylus purrs and seems playful as the two of you face each other, but there’s a slight edge to his tone.

It makes you tense and a little wary. 

As the two of you begin to spar, the exchange of blows seems routine as usual. You find yourself blocking and dodging most of his attacks, but you’re clearly unfocused and not taking this seriously at all. You miss the way Sylus’s face hardens in frustration and he turns away after deflecting a blow from you with ease. 

“Let’s make a deal, kitten.” 

You perk up at the mention of a deal, suddenly more animated than you were a moment ago. When he offers you the thing you’ve been begging for from him for weeks, you jump at the chance without caring what it might cost you.

Once the deal has been made he turns back to face you, but his expression is unreadable. 

The moment he rushes you and you barely defend yourself from his onslaught is when the realization starts to sink in that this might not be one of Sylus’s many games anymore. Before, Sylus had been kind, gentle when the two of you spent time together like this. 

Loving, in the way he had taught you.

You dance backward, desperate to avoid his long reach and trip, hitting the ground hard. Sylus doesn’t even try to catch you like he usually would, his gaze downcast as he closes the distance you had created. 

“Get up,” he says tersely. Your ears are still ringing from where he’d clipped you on the jaw seconds ago. “Get up.” There's an edge of panic to the sharpness of his tone that makes you angry.

“Give me a-” 

“Will they?” he taunts, but he’s not smiling as he’s closing in. “Will the wanderers wait for you while you catch your breath? Do you think they would be as polite as I am, sweetie?” 

You growl and push yourself unsteadily to your feet and stagger sideways; catching yourself with one hand on your knee. Sylus tamps down his pride that you stood up so quickly after the blow he dealt you, knowing that many men wouldn’t have gotten back up again at all. You’re so weak and it eats away at him how reckless you are sometimes, how invincible you think you are. He needs you to be strong so he doesn’t have to worry about you. This is all he can do when you insist on putting yourself in danger or going into no hunt zones without him where he cannot protect you. A gnawing fear grips him at just how close you had come to dying last time. What if you weren't so lucky next time?

What if—

“Come at me again.” Gone were the pet names, the cajoling, the easy, teasing smiles he wore during your practice matches.

The pounding in your head makes it hard for you to think, but you’re angry with him and with yourself. As much as you hate to admit it, Sylus is right. The wanderers and wanted men you hunted wouldn’t afford you the same courtesy Sylus does and would continue to hurt innocent people while you could do nothing. The thought of not being able to even save yourself consumes you and you attack Sylus recklessly. It takes him by surprise, and the two of you are fighting for real. You realize you can’t land a blow on him and it’s infuriating. 

Your vision blurs and you swallow the urge to scream as the flashbacks of all the times you hadn’t been fast enough, strong enough, just enough to save all of those people. How, even last week, the memory of how you had almost died if Sylus hadn’t found you in time threatens to choke you with disappointed rage. 

He feels your punch to his stomach but there’s no strength behind it, your head bowed and body trembling violently. Sylus catches you the moment your legs give out and gathers you into the safety of his arms. 

The pang of guilt Sylus feels is worse than any shot to the gut he’s ever taken. He pushed you too far, too fast, and he knows it.

He lowers the both of you to the ground and you find yourself cradled in his lap, your fingers digging into his skin as you cling onto him and sob. The comfort Sylus offers you is paltry at best, but he tries as his hand awkwardly soothes you as gently as he can manage. His fingers trace over your back in a slow, comforting pattern and he doesn't know if it's working when you cry harder. His murmured words against your hair are filled with soft apologies and the tender promises of whatever you wanted would be yours, no matter the cost.

Sylus makes you look at him once you calm down and his words drip with sincerity and conviction. 

“I can’t give you back what you’ve already lost, kitten, but I can help you protect what’s yours going forward.”

[ilovehimyourhonour]

wouldn’t dream of it

📂 bf! jung wooyoung x reader . you weren’t clear and wooyoung thought you were breaking up with him . slight angst , a bit of fluff , comfort .

a/n writing random pieces as my inbox/drafts sits with request . (edit — can’t believe this got as much love as it did lol) .

navigation

Vision turning hazy, Wooyoung falters in his steps—his eyes prick with tears as he watches you turn away from him, something you’ve never done. But has there ever been an argument this severe? Have the two of you ever yelled at each other with this much anger and heat? The rare times you did argue the atmosphere was still comforting, the two of you would sit down and talk things over. Wooyoung would hesitantly reach for your hands, you would smile softly and intertwine your fingers with his—he’d then lean forward, his lips brushing your forehead as he mumbles a “Im sorry.” Everything from there would work itself out, but as Wooyoung swayed where he stood, the orange lantern hanging above his head casting a dim light over him and the surrounding area, he knew the two of you weren’t going to solve this in a matter of minutes.

“Are you even listening to me?” He blinks back another rush of tears, they build within his throat. “Of course you’re not,” you chuckle. “Stupid of me to assume you would be.”

Your eyes are red, your cheeks are stained with the tears that had managed to escape—the collar of Wooyoung’s your shirt sports a few patches where your tears had fallen and seeped into the material. Wooyoung watches your hands shake as you reach up to brush the wetness from your cheeks.

“Can you say something, Wooyoung?” You’re annoyed. He parts his lips, only a strangled grunt leaves his mouth, the tangled tears, worry, and heartbreak resting in his throat blocks the words he wishes he could say. You hum softly, turning away from him—nearing the front door of your apartment. “I think we need a break, Woo.”

Panic surges through Wooyoung, bringing each aspect of himself to a crumbling point. Never has he ever had the desire to hear those words leave your mouth, never once had he ever desired to say them himself—no matter the circumstance he always wanted to get through it with you. He stumbles forward, leaving the kitchen and its orange glow behind as he pushes himself to the entrance—desperate to catch you before you left him.

Your backs facing him as he reaches you, you’re mid swinging your jacket over your shoulder when his two arms wrap around your knees—leaving you to frown and crane your neck. Your boyfriend has his face pressed into the back of your thighs, muffled sobs soaking into the materiel of your sweatpants, his shoulders violently shake with his cry. “I. Love. You,” his words are broken between hiccups.

“I love you, Wooyoung.” Your still facing the door, his tight grip on your legs preventing you from turning to face his kneeling figure. “Let me go,” you softly mutter as you blindly reach behind you—fingers brushing through his hair gently. His arms circle your legs tighter, his head shaking as he lets a few more hiccups shake his figure. You sigh and reach for his arms, pulling yourself from his hold—his heart splits in half and another surge of tears trail down his cheeks, dripping from his jaw and chin.

“No,” he chokes out. “Please don’t leave me,” his voice is hoarse and shaky. “One more chance, one more chance. Please.”

You’re now facing him, frowning as you drop to your knees—mirroring his position. “I just need one more chance,” his words are now barely above a whisper. You practically coo at his sad and desperate expression, your bottom lip can’t help but quiver as you reach out and brush the bangs from his eyes.

“I will never leave you, Wooyoung.”

“You said we needed a break.”

You sigh, squeezing your eyes shut. “I didn’t mean we should break up, darling. I meant we need a break from this,” he shifts so he sits crossed legged on the floor, you follow immediately. You watch his fingers twitch in his lap, as they always did—so you reach forward, taking his hand in yours. “We need time to calm down and then talk things over.”

“I am calm,” you chuckle softly—Wooyoung’s fingers tighten around yours at the familiar sound. “I don’t want to be alone.”

The heartbroken look in his eyes keeps you at his side, the two of you sitting in the entrance for hours. Nothing but soft touches, gentle kisses, and I love you’s being exchanged between the two of you. But somewhere between confessing your love for each other and brushing the hairs from one another’s faces, apologizes are exchanged. Woo promises he’ll be a better boyfriend, to which you expressed how you already believed him to be the best boyfriend you could ever ask for.

“Don’t ever break up with me,” Wooyoung mumbles into your shoulder as he holds you in his lap.

You chuckle softly as you bring your arms around his neck. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

© ilovehimyourhonour

[fiber-optic-alligator]

Desperation vs. Domestication (Pt. 2)

Pairing: IDW Drift x Human Reader

WARNING: This story contains soft vore. If this makes you uncomfortable, please do not read this story.

Word Count: 4431

Summary: Though you have been lulled into a deep sense of security by Drift's kindness and comfort, you still haven't completely lost the need to be free. A terrible nightmare refuels your desire for escape...but Drift isn't someone who wants to let you go.

HEEHEEHEEHEE I REALLY WANTED TO WRITE A PART 2 OF THIS...so I did. It's because Drift is my all-time favorite Transformer and I absolutely LOVE putting my favorite characters through angst. If you enjoyed reading part 1, then I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Likes, comments, feedback, and reblogs are never expected, but always appreciated! Enjoy! :D

Here is the link to pt. 1 if you haven’t read it!

Also available to read on AO3!

  Two months later…

  You dream of Earth tonight.

  There are fields; you are standing in one. Long Bermuda grass tickles your ankles with the gentle presence of the planet recognizing its own. The endless green is splattered with occasional droplets of color: pink poppies, yellow sunflowers, marigolds, dandelions. It is warm. There is a slight wind blowing, playing with your hair. You turn your face towards the sunlight and bask in the relief of knowing you are home.

  All of a sudden, you hear a sound. Thumping. Steady, rhythmic. Loud. You feel the wind die down and suddenly the sun is gone, and there is only darkness. A massive shadow blots out all of the light. You see a figure looming over you, red-and-white with bright blue eyes that stare into your soul and make you feel terror.

  You try to run, but find you cannot move your legs. There is nothing you can do when you watch a giant hand reach down in slow motion and pluck you up, holding you between titanic fingers. The monster’s mouth opens, and then you are tumbling down, right into an abyss of metal and isolation. The Earth melts away forever. You are trapped. You are alone.

  Shooting forward out of your nightmare, you hear yourself scream. The squishy floor underneath you makes you lose your footing when you scramble upward in a blind panic and fall into Drift’s stomach wall. Everything moves, the organ grumbling unhappily at you being awake. Your hands scramble at the mesh cables. Little pink bubbles of cybernetic blood pop anxiously beneath their semi-transparent surfaces. The walls close in to squeeze, holding you in a secure hug, attempting to keep you still. But you cannot think. You are scared, and you feel trapped, so you desperately begin to thrash and fight against the stomach.

  Drift’s voice booms above you, panicked. “Little one? Little one?!”

  “Let me go!” you shriek. “Please, letmegoletmegoletmego!”

  The walls loosen up, freeing you. You collapse into the fetal position, gasping while sweat beads your brow and your heart goes crazy.

  Drift presses his hands over his middle. “Little one, little one, shhhh, shh, shh, shh,” he hushes frantically. “Safe, safe…safe, all is safe...no need for fear��”

  Gradually, you calm down. Only when you are no longer trembling does Drift tentatively begin to squeeze you again. In and out, slow kneading, like he’s silently coaxing you to continue breathing at a healthier pace. “Little one…okay?” he asks.

  Your voice quivers. “I-I’m fine. I’m okay. It-It was a bad dream. A nightmare.” You sit upright and lean into the stomach wall. Drift holds you close, the undulating muscle relaxing you with its constant massage. His biolights pulse and flicker, a clear sign of his stress. You woke him up with your screams. It makes you feel bad, so you snuggle his cables further. The robot’s stomach is not a big place, but Drift likes to be conscious of you. The support you provide him in completing this task is obviously appreciated, because he hums softly and pats his hand over where you are.

  There is peace again. Peace and warmth. But you don’t feel the usual safety. There is a lingering pit of dread growing deep within your gut, foul roots clawing their way through your body, leaving you jittery, uneased. Your nightmare is the first one in months, and it’s a sure sign things are not right.

  It has been such a long time since you thought of your possible escape plan. You don’t know how long, but you do know that you can’t be comfortable here anymore. Your mind is sending the signals loud and clear.

  No more stalling, you think to yourself. No more being complacent.

  You are not domesticated yet.

  When Drift lets you out of here…you will go through with the plan to take an escape pod home. For real this time.

  It takes you weeks to perfect your plan. And when you do finally have it all figured out, you come to the conclusion that things may end up being more complicated than you thought. Escaping a spaceship filled with giant alien robots is hard enough, yes. But then there’s the issue of what will happen when you return to Earth. You don’t know how long you’ve been abducted. It could be months. It could be years. What if all of your family and friends are long gone by the time you get home? What if things are so different that you’ve been completely left behind?

  No. You can’t think like that. A sharp patting to your cheeks snaps you out of it. Keep it together. This is the moment you have been waiting for. Regardless of what awaits you on Earth, you will be there to face it.

  You’ve packed everything you own into a small fabric knapsack your mech gifted you during your first days here (Who knew robots are such good knitters?). It’s not much, not much at all: snacks Drift gives you, strange pellets that clean your teeth, three cans of filtered water…but that’s all you really require for the trip you are going to embark on. You don’t believe it will be particularly long. The escape pods need to have some sort of device that allows them to leap through lightyears to their destinations. You believe this because you’ve watched the mothership do it from the observation windows Drift likes to bring you to sometimes. Hyperspace will occasionally be activated, with stars and planets blurring together into dazzling white paint streaks before coming to an abrupt halt in a totally new galaxy.

  Now, do you know how lightjumping works? Absolutely not. Last time you were on Earth, no such human technology had been invented yet. So you don’t exactly know how you’ll get the escape pod to lightjump like the ship does. But you’ll find a way. You have no choice.

  Now for the hard part: getting away from Drift long enough to activate the escape pod and blast away. He’s not going to make it easy for you. Drift doesn’t like letting you out of his sight if you aren’t in his room, and hardly lets you roam free. You’ve spent hours, both within his stomach and out, pondering how to go about this. It’s left you with the agonizing decision that you’ll just have to wing it somehow.

  The door to his room slides open. You’ve been sitting on his berth with your hands beneath your head and one leg crossed over the other, thinking, thinking, thinking, that at first you nearly didn’t hear him come in. You sit up to greet him with more eagerness than you’d like to show. The nightmare didn’t stop your affection for Drift from rearing its persistent head.

  There’s no waiting for him to give you his time today. When he enters the room, his focus is immediately on you with no prior distractions. Drift walks with a spring in his step, his finials perking up like an enthusiastic dog. You notice a small white box he holds in one hand, and think nothing of it. Drift’s room is decorated with countless knickknacks from other planets. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s brought some strange little souvenir home.

  “Hey, big guy,” you murmur happily when he kneels down before you. He settles the box to the side and cups both hands behind you, humming his typical car engine-purr greeting. You hug him when he draws you forth so he can nuzzle his nose into your middle. “I’m guessing you missed me?”

  Drift beep-boops excitedly. He gives you an affectionate tickle to your side, causing you to giggle. Your reaction delights him. He keeps it up, and pretty soon you are laughing so hard your stomach hurts. “D-Drift, s-stop! I-I can’t breathe!”

  He gives you one last light prod, then ends the bout of torture with more cuddles. You recover from the laughter, feeling airy and light like nothing else matters except for the giant robot holding you.

  “Little one,” he coos. “My little one.”

  “Mhm,” you mumble goodnaturedly. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m yours.”

  He suddenly looks like he’s remembered something very important, and he straightens, chirping rapidly. You watch as he grabs the white box and, to your surprise, presents it to you. You glance at it, then turn to him. “For me?” you ask, pointing at yourself.

  He chirps again and nods.

  You take it from him and open it with a slight air of confusion, because he’s never given you something like this before. You think it might be a piece of jewelry, or some sort of charm. But what you see inside is neither of those things. You suck in a sharp breath of pure disbelief and go numb.

  It’s a collar. A damn collar. Sleek and narrow, its solid red with a single white stripe circumnavigating it. On one side is a strange symbol of a boxy red robot’s face-the same symbol he has on his chest. These are his colors, you realize. He’s making us match. He wants the other mechs to know that he owns you.

  Drift rumbles expectantly. When you remain frozen, unable to pry your eyes away from the collar, he gently pries it out of your now slightly shaking hands. With extreme carefulness, he clasps it around your neck. It fits comfortably and locks with a quiet click.

  “My little one,” he repeats. “Mine.”

  He’s not trying to scare you. You know he isn’t. Yet your throat is dry, and the snug weight of the collar makes you feel sick.

  You need to get the hell off of this ship.

  You spend the night feverishly trying to break the collar off, working yourself up like a caged animal driven mad by captivity. But no matter how hard you yank at it, it remains stubbornly fast around your neck. You refuse to eat the food given to you and cry yourself to sleep within a very concerned Drift’s belly, who can’t seem to console you no matter how hard he tries.

  Drift doesn’t know what to do with you.

  You’ve been moping ever since he gave you the collar. Over the next few days, any sort of drive to escape has left you. You're depressed and disappointed in him for what he’s done. You don’t want to talk to him. You don’t want to accept any of his gifts. Blanket after pillow after plushie-all made by him, with the crude markings of homemade love-are ignored. You shy away from his touch and reject his attention. When he swallows you at night, you give him no inclination you care. You sit like a stone within him and just…stare off vacantly, unable to ignore the collar around your neck.

  He’s brought you to the ship’s doctor multiple times. On the first trip, the old red medic bot looked you over and finished his checkup with a shrug and dismissive chuff. The second time, he growled at Drift and waved him away. And on the third time, he didn’t even let him through the door. There’s nothing physically wrong with you. But mentally, how could they know? How could he know he’s hurt you? You trusted him to treat you with some level of respect despite your situation, and he had, until now. The collar was your breaking point. There truly is no way for him to ever see you as anything more than a pet, and it hurts you, because by god, you love him.

  “…Little one?”

  Drift calls out to you with a soft, sad tone. You huddle up tighter beneath one of your blankets and give no answer.

  You hear him shift at his desk. There’s silence between the two of you that is not wanted. He heaves a low sigh and tries again. “Little one…please?”

  Damn your heart, you can’t keep giving him the silent treatment when he sounds like he’s about to cry.

  You push the blanket off of your head. Drift slouches in his chair, back bent like an old man’s. His finials are drooping, and the glow from his biolights is dimmer than usual. He’s obviously been letting his personal hygiene go for the sake of finding a way to help you, and it hurts to know he’s in this state because of your shitty attitude towards what he simply sees as a gift. The collar is a curse, but you can’t exactly tell him that, can you? This entire situation is all your fault.

  It's the treacherous part of your mind which attempts to convince you of this. It partially works. Giving in, you sit up slowly, drawing the blanket tightly around your shoulders and tilting your head while giving him a questioning look.

  He’s surprised by your action, like he genuinely wasn’t expecting you to respond to this extent. But he takes advantage of it. Drift offers you a hopeful smile and picks something up from his desk. He stands and walks to you, going slow. You don’t flinch when he crouches down to your level. The warm light of his eyes leaves a kind feeling on your skin.

  Tentatively, Drift extends his hand. In his palm is a piece of chocolate, one of the many treats he has at his disposal to provide you with when he feels you are being especially good. It’s an olive branch. A reach in the right direction.

  You hesitate…and then you think, Oh, what the hell. Staying mad at Drift when he has no clue he’s done something wrong in the first place won’t get you anywhere. So you accept the candy and take a small bite.

  He sags with relief, exhaust whooshing from his nose as he watches you eat. When you're finished, he moves his hand closer, twining the palm around you and resting the tips of his digits against your head and sides. You hold his index finger, resting your forehead against it and closing your eyes as a sign of trust. But you feel guilty.

  “I’m sorry,” you whisper, knowing he won’t understand. But you say it anyway. “I love you. I love you so, so much. But you're destroying me. I can’t stay here anymore.”

  A tear slips down your cheek. You don’t notice it until Drift gently brushes it away.

  “I have to go.” Your voice breaks. “I need to leave. I hope you’ll learn why. And I hope you won’t hate me for it. I-I don’t think I could handle it if you did. Please don’t hate me. Please don’t think I hated you.”

  Drift coos. His reply is indecipherable. You think he’s trying to comfort you…but you’ll never know for sure.

  He doesn’t swallow you tonight. You don’t know why; maybe he thinks you need a break. Maybe he just wants to hold you in a different fashion this time. You stay awake hours after he falls asleep, your little form nestled in the crook of his neck while he snoozes on his stomach with his arms crossed beneath his massive pillow. You peer off into the darkness, listening to his quiet breaths.

  For the longest time, you’ve thought of this room as yours and his. A space the two of you share together. Ours. It's fed into your delusional ideations of a future in which the two of you learn each other’s languages, where you stand on equal ground, you belonging to him and him belonging to you. A future where mechs and humans join hands and say “I see you. I know you. I understand you and you understand me. Neither of us is higher than the other.”

  But it will never happen. The collar around your neck is physical proof. There is no future between the two of you anymore. If you want to be you again…you need to let Drift go.

  You shuffle away from the bot’s neck and stand. The only parts of him that are lit up right now are the red symbol on his chest and the soft blue of his mouth. He’s so peaceful. This giant alien, who you know has fought in many battles from the scars you can see, is soothed by your presence. You, an insignificant little human being. The dynamic is honestly quite hilarious. You're like his very own version of a chihuahua.

 You want to hug his nose, knowing you will never have another chance again. But Drift is a light sleeper, and you're testing the waters enough already. You can’t risk it. It pains you, but you drop your arms and turn away.

  Using the metal ladder he made for you so you’d have easy access to his berth, you climb down and grab your knapsack. Quietly padding across the long expanse of the room, you make it to the door. It senses your presence and slides open. You force yourself not to look back when you walk out.

   You wonder if he will cry for you when he wakes up and finds you gone.

  The spaceship is ominous at night. The only thing you can hear as you traverse the hallways is your heartbeat pulsing in your ears. You're trying to be quiet; passing by multiple rooms with slumbering bots inside has you holding your breath and then letting it out in a forcefully slow, reedy wheeze. You are, after all, a mouse in a prison filled with cats; slow and steady and silent wins the race.

  You survey the elevator when you get to it, at a loss of how you’ll possibly find a way to operate it due to how small you are. A miracle finds its way to you, however, in the form of a mech. This one you don’t recognize. He has a similar color scheme to Drift, but is noticeably bulkier, with a strange cannon sitting on his right shoulder and a blue eyepiece over the adjacent optic. All of his focus is on the datapad in his hands as he summons the elevator. You wait for the doors to open and for him to step inside before darting after him. Luckily he doesn’t look up once on the short journey. Your cover remains unblown when the doors part again and he heads off. You go in the opposite direction, because like hell are you going to follow the strange robot to someplace where there are probably more strange robots.

  You slip in and out of sight, staying far away from any mechs who are awake. They do not see you, which means you are doing this right-though there are some alarming instances where you think you’ll be caught. One such occurrence happens when a tall, thin blue mech with a chest like the front of a helicopter nearly sees you duck into an open storage room for quick cover. Its single orb ominously scans the darkened room. You watch from beneath a large shelving unit, terrified out of your mind. You don’t move, nor do you make a sound, keeping a shaking hand over your mouth.

  Finally, after what feels like hours, the mech stomps away. You let your head fall forward respitefully.

  You know you're nearing your one-way ticket to Earth when you see bright yellow signs plastered on the walls with loud black alien words telling you to hurry left with the help of large arrows. Escape pod symbols, accompanied by a funny little robot mascot, are the giveaway. You feel a sort of giddy euphoria swell up within you. You're almost there. You're going to escape. You're going to go home. It all seems far too good to be true; sure, you’ve imagined this scenario happening over and over again, but you never really did believe it would happen.

  You pinch your arm multiple times just to make sure you aren’t dreaming. This is not in your head. This is happening. You really are going back to Earth.

  Your collar suddenly vibrates. And then it starts to screech.

  You nearly jump out of your own skin. The alarm is loud, piercing, and undeniably going to alert someone to your presence. You slam your fists against it multiple times, but it doesn’t let up. Your heart sinks when the realization of what's going on hits.

  Shit. He put a tracker in it.

  You need to run. You shove yourself forward into a full-on sprint, dashing down the last remainder of this hallway, then turning the corner and seeing the numerous escape pods all lined up in the wall. You choose the first one, grabbing the edge of the circular door and pulling with all of your might. The tendons in your neck strain as you grunt and slowly bring the door back with you. Clamoring in, you give it one last heave before it shuts on its own and seals you inside. You hear the lock click into place. The entire cabin flickers to life, with the lights on and the control panel booting up. As you expected, everything is far too big for you to reach. But it seems you won’t need to. A loud robotic voice emanates from the central console, speaking to you in the native mech language.

  Your collar is still going off. You don’t have a lot of time.

  “I-I can’t understand you!” you yell over the din. “I’m a human, from Earth! I speak English!”

  The voice pauses. Seconds later, to your amazement, it talks, and you can understand. “Language notifications made. Destination updated. Scanning…” A panel on the ceiling pops open, and a blue light filters out, washing over you. “Scanning complete. Species: Homo Sapien. Homeworld: Earth. Milky Way Galaxy. Status: Critically endangered. Suggesting immediate travel to Earth.”

  You clap your hands. “Yes! Yes, that’s it! Earth, set the destination to Earth!”

  “Destination set. Awaiting command to launch LOST LIGHT LIFEPOD 01.”

  You are about to give the order when something slams against the door. You whirl around, your heart stuttering when you see who’s there. It’s Drift. He’s made it. And he looks horrified. With trembling fingers, he yanks on the handle. When the pod remains fastly shut, he pounds on the circular window with so much force the entire thing shudders and you think he’s going to rip it right off of its hinges. “Little one!” he screams, voice muffled beyond the barrier of glass. “Little one! Open…!” The rest of the sentence comes out as sharp metal shrieks.

  You stand there helplessly. The pod once again inquires for your command, yet you can’t find it within yourself to speak.

  Drift is doing everything he can to get to you. He’s like a rabid beast, clawing at the window, teeth bared in visible frustration. His biolights are going mad when he roars and sends his whole body into the door. This time, it does give a little. You can see some dents in the gray metal.

  This…is a side of Drift you have never seen. It is desperate, vicious. And it terrifies you. You stumble back to the opposite end of the pod and curl up, hugging your knapsack to your chest like a child squeezing their favorite stuffed animal. Drift continues his futile attack on the door, but pauses when he makes eye contact with you. His face falls. His fists relax and slide downward to press palm against the glass.

  He’s quiet as he seems to reflect on how he just presented himself front of you, then whispers heartbrokenly. “...Sorry.” Tears stream down his cheeks. His hot vexation melts away and exposes his remorseful center. “Sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry. Little one. Y/N.”

  Oh my god.

  All noise ceases when you register what he just said. Your name. He said your name. He’s never done that before. You didn’t think he knew your name.

  He learned to say it. For you.

  Drift whimpers like a kicked dog, moving to crouch lower. “Y/N. Y/N, please. Stay. Stay with me. Please don’t go. I love you.”

  You’ve changed his life. You don’t need to be told this. You know you’ve brought him a sense of joy he hasn’t felt in years. You didn’t come here of your own free will. But you freely chose to love him. You gave yourself up and became his everything while he became yours. Isn’t he your home? Isn’t he the one who saved you? Can you really leave someone who cares about you so much?

  Your legs move on their own accord. Your heart beats with his and you take tentative steps towards the door. Drift twitters and gives you an encouraging nod, gesturing for you to keep walking.

  Why do you want to leave him so badly? Why would you want to throw away this perfect life?

  Your little human hands come to rest right over his massive robotic ones. You two are separated, but you think you can feel the warmth coming from him. Drift bonks his forehead against the window anticipatingly. “Come on,” he whispers. “Come on. It’s…okay. You're okay. Please.”

  Your hands are human. You will never see another pair again if you return to him.

  Your life is not supposed to be perfect. A human’s life is messy, and disastrous, and chaotic, and beautiful. His life is too, but not in the same way as yours.

  “Goodbye, Drift,” you murmur, voice breaking. “LOST LIGHT LIFEPOD 01…take me to Earth.”

  The escape pods hums and rumbles. “Command accepted,” it announces. “Preparing ejection in three…two…one.”

  The last thing you see and hear before the pod lurches forward and rockets out of its dock is Drift’s agonized expression and his wrenching wail.

  Your vessel speeds away. You get a fantastic view of the ship in all of its stunning glory. It felt so gigantic when you were inside, but from out here, you can fully comprehend its overwhelming proportions. You watch it rapidly shrink as you gain distance from it, until it's just another speck of light in the universe. And when you can’t even see that anymore, you allow yourself to collapse against the floor eagles-spread. You gaze up at the ceiling, feeling surprisingly hollow. There is no victorious sense of triumph, no excitement to return home. You don’t even know where home is anymore. Somehow, after everything you’ve gone through, you’ve come out even more lost than you already were.

  The waterworks start shortly after the escape pod jumps into hyperspace. Heaving sobs, messy tears, you lie there and weep to the stars, not noticing when your collar finally stops beeping.

[ghostie-luvs]

Yandere! Patient <3

tw: depression,, obsessive behavior, very slight mention of sh/attempt

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who had been suffering from depression ever since he was young. His parents never tried to figure out why, only sending him to all these different therapists in hopes of helping him. Of course, they cared but they were also too busy, and perhaps, that was one of the leading causes: neglect.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who never tried hurting himself or attempting but only wallowed in the emptiness of the house he grew up in, no siblings to play with, no parents to admire, only him, and a few servants.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who during highschool, got his first ever partner. Gods, he was ecstatic! I mean, the man was touch starved, attention starved, everything starved really. He really did like the person,, so much that his love developed into a sort of unhealthy love, or so people call it.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who would do anything for his new partner, go above and beyond for them..even if they didn’t like it. I mean, shouldn’t they be more appreciative of his efforts? No matter, he still loves them and will do whatever it takes for them to be happy.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ whose love only grows, progresses into a more..obsessive one. His partner always being treated with the affection he so wish he had when he was younger, with gifts, touches, anything they could ever want.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who savored the feeling of their touches, begging for more each time they pulled away, whining if you could even call it that. He needed the affection, he needed their touch and only deflated whenever he did not get what he wanted, thoughts of his childhood resurfacing.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who began to become dependent to his partner, needing them for everything. He wouldn’t be able to sleep, to eat or anything without them. He needed them, desperately. He couldn’t live without them.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who started to panic when his partner began to get distant. He wanted to ask why, wanted to figure out the problem, what he possibly did wrong. His partner gave him no room to even ask, breaking up with him, saying he was too much, and too clingy. What? Too..clingy?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who after the breakup, didn’t take it very well. He fell into the old friend of his that he had when he was young, finding no use of taking care of himself.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who was sent to a psychiatrist when his parents came back from abroad, noting his appearance and realizing what was happening again. He fought back, he told them that those damn people never helped him!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who, the day he arrived to his supposed assigned psychiatrist, felt absolutely horrible being there and only kept to himself. He knew how it would be already. They would prescribe him medicine that didn’t even work.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who, when his eyes fell on you, as you called his name and greeted him with a smile, inviting him to yours and your mentors office-you were only an assistant, only two years older than him- felt his world suddenly fill with colors. What? Soulmates don’t exist. So why was this happening and why did he feel so giddy at your welcoming smile?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who followed you into your office, making himself comfortable as you told him to sit down and tell you about himself. Why was he nervous? Either way, he did exactly what you told him and found himself getting comfortable in your presence and your smile.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who felt happy..happy in a long time at how much you’ve listened to him and treated him so nicely..just like his partner. He was excited for the next appointment, practically sulking when he had to leave, ignoring the fact that you probably prescribed him medicine on the way out, too busy with what would happen next time.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who knew he wouldn’t be taking that medicine anyway. Why would he when he found that you were good enough, that you were the cure?

a/n: ahhh another character <3 please point out any mistakes or any constructive criticism is welcomed!! Reblogs are very much appreciated!!

please note that I am not a professional/ expert in the field of mental illnesses and reach out to one if you ever feel symptoms relating to depression or s! thoughts.

more of my works :)

[feyascorner]

1 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. “I would say good luck out there, but honestly? I hope you die screaming.”

Intimacy is not something you like to indulge in after your last lover nearly strangled you to death. Sometimes, you wonder if letting him ascend would mean he would still be here, by your side, rather than lurking the shadows of Baldur's Gate.

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, reader is a bard

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. very excited about this!!!! I have a lot of ideas on what to do w this plot!!! ALSO there is some material (pressuring??) in this specific chapter that may be a bit uncomfortable for some readers it's very brief, but it is there so please take care of yourself!

As dark spots blur your vision, you realize you can no longer breathe.

His hands–the slender pale fingers you’ve grown to love more than your own–wrap desperately around your throat, digging crescent-shaped indents into your skin. You’d always thought that if he were ever to realize you weren’t as precious to him as he believed you to be, your neck would be the one part of yourself he’d continued to cherish. The softness in which he brushed his fangs against the most vulnerable areas of your throat had led you to believe so.

But as you stare up at him with wide eyes meeting a murderous glare, you understand that you are wrong.

His crimson eyes gleam with an emotion you’ve seen plenty on his pretty face, but never toward a friend. Never to you. You’re going to die, you think. And it wouldn’t have seemed so bad to die at his hands if it were not for the hatred reaching his eyes.

You’re not sure who–maybe Karlach or Wyll–but someone tears him away from you. Your chest dares to tighten from the loss of contact, yet you desperately grasp at the air, hands flying to the tender flesh of your neck while Shadowheart rushes to your side in an instant with her eyes narrowed dangerously at the very man who’d made the dark blemishes.

They’re yelling. Everyone is. At you, out of panic, or at Astarion, you’re not sure, but you just stare at the vampire spawn who’s now unwillingly locked into a life cast into the shadows of the city. He doesn’t look at anyone else, either.

He says something and a few more muffled voices spit back before he throws the dagger you’d given him to the ground, turning to leave. Your hearing clears just in time to hear his parting words.

“I would say good luck out there, but honestly? I hope you die screaming.”

A pair of hands shake you awake, and you quickly remember the poor consequences to your back of falling asleep on the empty, narrow street beside the Elfsong tavern. You look up wearily, eyes in a daze as Shadowheart sighs irritably, brows furrowed in a way that tells you to ready yourself for a scolding. “Honestly, at this point, I’m just surprised you haven’t gotten robbed during the night yet.”

You force yourself onto your feet, leaning against the walls as you rub at the crust forming under your eyes. “I have nothing of value anyway. They’re better off stealing from some other poor bard who actually bothers to write songs.”

She raises a brow at this, scanning over your appearance. “Where is your lyre?”

“Sold it,” you shrug, dusting off the muck garnered at the sides of your pants. “Wasn’t much use to me anymore. Better off adding to the funds to rebuild the city, don’t you think?”

Shadowheart frowns, and it makes you look away shamefully. Thankfully, she quickly shakes her head and then paces past you. “Speaking of which, are you in any condition to help today? Gale’s promptly exhausted trying to cast mage hand at least a dozen times yesterday to rebuild the Blushing Mermaid. That foolish wizard nearly passed out by noon.”

“‘Course,” you offer a pathetic smile. “We’re nearly finished with the Baldur’s Mouth. I’ll catch up with you once I check on everyone there.”

“Very well,” she says. She purses her lips after a slight pause. “You should stop falling asleep on the street. Especially since there’s been quite a few murders recently around the city,” she checks to see if you haven’t dazed off, “I expect you to come home tonight–We’re making stew.”

“I will. Don’t think my back can stand much more of this anyway.”

Her shoulders relax the slightest bit, and she finally manages to catch your darting eyes. “Is it the nightmares again? They’re getting worse, aren’t they?”

Your throat goes dry, and you can feel your knees grasping at its remaining strength as you search your mind for a way to respond. You’re tempted to lie through your gritted teeth, knowing she’s fully aware regardless of what pathetic answer you offer her, but you opt to seal your mouth shut, shrugging.

The flash of disappointment in her eyes is enough to make you feel the knots tighten in your stomach. With a curt note, she turns to walk away, glancing back for one last time. “Don’t give him the privilege of occupying a part of your mind for so long. He doesn’t deserve even the dirty filth you have all over yourself.”

For the first time after he nearly killed you and you defeated the Elder Brain four months ago, you think she might be right about him.

Intimacy is not something you like to indulge in after your last lover nearly strangled you to death. Though after the pitiful look your companions gave you when you arrived back at camp and the aching truth in Shadowheart’s words, you find yourself feeling bolder than the last time you dared to call Lae’zel’s cooking inedible (which it was, quite frankly). 

He’s handsome. A reasonably tall elf with pale blue eyes glinting with attraction as he stares at you across the tavern. Sharp jawline, long eyelashes, and long hair brushed back and away from his face. You only notice everything else after the silvery shade of his hair–not entirely white, but fairly close, or as close as you could get to it while still being blond. You were sure he was approaching you for your title–the famed hero of Baldur’s Gate–rather than for pure physical attraction, but you weren’t in any position to nitpick at the moment.

You just wanted to feel skin other than the unsettling feeling of your own.

“Seems to have taken a liking to you,” Shadowheart sips at her drink.

Lae’zel glances at you. “He’s tolerable to the eye. Not quite attractive by githyanki standards, but tolerable.”

You stifle a smile at their attempts to urge you forward and put down your drink. “You sure you two won’t be lonely without me?...Or kill each other.”

“You can leave them to me,” Gale smiles, pacing toward your table with his drink. “I’m sure a Hold cast or two would settle them down.”

Lae’zel snatches the cup from his hand. “You act as if you aren’t fresh out of cast slots, wizard.”

Shadowheart shakes her head, nudging you forward. “Go. We’ll be fine.”

“I won’t be long. Certainly won’t be overnight,” you assure her. “I can’t miss the stew, anyway.”

She smiles, and Lae’zel scoffs in the other direction. “Hurry, he looks almost demented waiting for your graces.”

You snort and offer a clumsy glance to the elf across the tavern before striding out the door. 

Behind the tavern, he’s quick to press a desperate kiss to your lips, lacking the usual tenderness you experienced with Astarion. Or had it been tender at all? Even now, you’re unsure what parts of him had been to manipulate you and what parts of him had been his raw feelings. At the time, you’d embraced either with open arms–you’d embraced him. 

The elf bites at your lip, which snaps you back into the waking world. And while you curse yourself for comparing the moment to him, you find that it’s impossible as you observe that this elf is slightly shorter than he’d been. And instead of his hands wandering to your hip or waist, they graze your behind, pushing you into him in a way that feels nearly suffocating. 

And most glaringly, his lips are warm. Not the cold, yet soft lips of an undead being.

You’re grateful that he keeps his eyes closed because you can simply stare at his pale hair, longing for something you vowed to forget.

It doesn’t feel right. Not at all, and you hate yourself for it.

You shove him away, face falling as you realize you want to wipe his touch away from your mouth like it’s filth, and you do. Understandably, he appears puzzled, brows furrowing as you push yourself away from the wall, shaking your head. “Sorry, I don’t think I can do this.”

But as you try to walk away, his fingers close around your wrist like a death grip, sending shivers up your spine as you find that you hate the feeling of his skin. You hate the feel of your own skin, too. Why, you’re not sure, but he leans close enough for you to feel his breath on your cheeks and yank you out of your daze. “What’s gotten into you? I didn’t do jack shit.”

“I just can’t do this,” you hiss, tugging at your hand. You could just knock him out, but the hero of Baldur’s Gate punching people as they pleased wouldn’t look too good on your end. “Let go.”

“Well, you have to give me at least an explanation,” he snaps, grip tightening. It hurts. “Don’t pretend you haven’t been sending me looks all night.”

His words seem to snap the remaining patience inside you because you elbow his stomach, shoving him backward onto his ass before pressing your dagger that seemed to appear from thin air into his neck. You haven’t had to use the knife in a while, considering how your biggest recent foe was the stinginess of patrons when it came time to pay their tabs at the tavern. Though it belongs to you, it feels foreign in your hands because, for a time, it had a different owner.

One who used this very blade against you. The same one who taught you how to elbow someone hard enough to make them reel.

“P-Please, I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to hurt you.” You’d forgotten he was there. “Just let me go, please; I won’t bother you again.”

You drop your head, sighing loudly as you sheathe your dagger once more. You think you must really be losing your mind—threatening to slice open a civilian’s throat despite the significant power imbalance between the two of you. You’re sure the greatest threat he’s faced in his life is from petty theft or something along those lines while you—well, you’re you. It’d be equivalent to a full grown owlbear attacking a goblin with a half broken club.

So, as much as you want to make him bleed just a bit, you opt to step away. “Do that again to anyone—not just me, and I won’t be so forgiving next time. Understand?”

The tremble in his irises tells you enough. You sigh again, turning to leave.

You curse your luck. Of course you would have to attract the foulest person in the tavern on a night where nothing seemed to be going correctly. Or rather, the past four months that haven’t been going as you anticipated.

Getting rid of the tadpole meant you should’ve been free from the chains of someone else—and it had, but at the cost of losing something else. And that ‘something else’ was one you weren’t sure you were ever ready to sacrifice. It should have made you happy to see the Elder Brain fall, and to rid of the squirming feeling in your skull, but all you could remember was the churning in your stomach as you realized the last string tying you to him had been snapped.

You’d gone to every tavern, every bar, playing a tune at each one until the skin at your fingers split open, because he knew you’d be there. He’d known what your lyre meant to you. Yet among the sea of faces, not once had you seen the one you wanted.

As you walk around the corner, you wrap your arms around yourself. Though Summer’s quickly approaching, there’s still a chill in the air this late at night. You pull out your dagger once more, lifting it to the sky to examine its hilt against the moonlight, which glistens with what was once your pride and love. Now, it just looks dull, and faint.

You back feels too light, now lacking the lyre. You suppose you’ll have less of a hassle moving around now, since you don’t have to worry about the strings snapping, but it doesn’t soothe you. Still, you’d sold it for good reason.

An instrument is nothing without a player who can use it, after all.

So you turn your attention back to your dagger, the last crumb he’s left for you to hold dearly to your heart, and then to the trash can perched beside a nearby wall.

You’ve tried a million times before, and you’re not sure what makes you think you’ll be successive this time, but you swallow hard in determination to rid of the thing entirely. But just as you’re about to take your first step toward it, you hear a loud, halting screech muffled instantly.

It’s from the direction you came from.

You’re breaking into a silent sprint, the weapon in your hand ready to be used. You stop before you turn the corner, readying yourself for the worst. A murder? There’ve been more than a few occurring around the city, but you’d thought the Flaming Fist were investigating that already…You can hear your blood rushing in your head, but a crunch of bone and the silence that follows afterward is all you can focus on as your grip on the hilt tightens desperately. 

Cautiously, you peer at the moonlit alleyway, poised to attack.

You nearly drop the blade.

Draped in the moonlight with his face hidden by a hood, he nearly glows, though you’re not sure if it’s just your mind playing tricks on you. His fangs are buried viciously into the man’s neck, whose legs and arms lie limply at his side while the life in his eyes slips away as if it were never there. And while you don’t dare to breathe, you stare with wide eyes, drinking in his appearance as if it would be the last. A part of you thinks it may be.

But as quickly as your heart begins to race, it calms. A drop of your stomach tells you it’s not him. You’re not sure if you’re relieved or how you know, but you can just tell.

The man finally drops the now lifeless body onto the ground with a thud, wiping at his mouth with the back of his dark sleeve. He turns, and you finally see one of Astarion’s brothers–the one who’d been at the flophouse, confirming your suspicions. Regardless, your guard stays up. “I thought you guys left for the Underdark.”

He snaps his head toward your voice, eyes wide. He looks a lot better than you’d last truly seen his face after Astarion nearly burned him against the sunlight in the flophouse. What had been his name, you try to recall? Pallet? Peter? It doesn’t matter, much. “You were at the flophouse.”

He cringes at the memory but nods. “Petras. You’re the one who stopped Astarion from killing us all, aren’t you?”

Your throat goes dry at that. You’d never thought about it in such a–vulgar way, and it makes your stomach churn, but he doesn’t give you time to respond. 

“Dalyria, Leon, and I have decided to stay for the sake of the spawn hiding in the city sewers,” he explains curtly. “My other siblings are in the Underdark with most of the spawn, as you expect them to be.”

You stare at the corpse on the ground, expression twitching as you meet his eyes. “Why’d you kill him?”

He licks his lips, stained with the man’s blood.  “I didn’t. Someone did the work for me. I just didn’t let his precious blood go to waste.” He pauses. “I’d put a few rats on betting that it’s Astarion.”

Your eyes go wide, your armed hands dropping to your side. “Astarion? He was here?”

You’d been here mere moments ago. Had he seen you? Was he watching you?

“Maybe. Judging from how quickly he ran away from the scene when he saw me, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Shoving your dagger into its rightful place on your back, you immediately turn to search for your former companion. He couldn’t have gone far. You’d been talking to the dead man mere minutes ago, and if the death occurred between now and then, he couldn’t have possibly gone more than a few buildings away–

“I never got to thank you.”

Petras looks at you anxiously, and as much as you’d like to cut the conversation short, the way he shifts nervously can’t help but keep you in place.

“There’s no need,” you reply, stopping to shake your head. You hadn’t done it for him or any of his siblings, for that matter, anyway. Not even for Astarion. Your choice to stop had been for yourself, to keep him by your side. Your brows furrow at the selfishness draping your thoughts—that you were willing to sacrifice 7000 innocent souls for the sake of protecting the one you loved. It was a lapse of judgement. Naivety. “It’s just how things turned out.”

He tilts his head but doesn’t push it any further. “Have you seen him recently? Astarion?”

“...No. He left after we—I killed Cazador.”

His eyes flicker with disappointment, and you wonder if he’s forgiven Astarion for what he tried to do in Cazador’s dungeon. “He’s always been good at hiding. Seems some things never change.”

You nod numbly. “I’ll let you know if I do see him.”

Though you doubt you ever will. Not after how things ended. But if there’s a slight chance, even the smallest of hopes, that you can bring closure to the sleepless nights you spend on the streets, staring up at a sky that no longer brightens the way it used to, you’re willing to wait until you’re shriveled up and old, while he remains beautiful.

“I don’t think he wants to see you right now.”

The painful clench in your heart doesn’t go ignored. “Have you spoken with him?”

“Once,” he says. “But it seems he doesn’t want to speak with us anymore either. You see, our conversation didn’t quite end in a happy family reunion. We did manage to ask him a few things—like asking if he was to be staying with you.”

“And?” You’re afraid to hear the answer, but your voice is far too hopeful.

Petras gives you a look of pity, and you understand.

You understand that no matter how long you wait or how long you search for him, Astarion will not be seen when he does not want to be.

“I don’t think he wants to see you right now.”

For the rest of the night, you weep. You weep in the comforts of nobody but your own arms and nobody to hear you but the moon above.

Baldur’s Gate is by no means a city that sleeps. The past four months have been a restless cycle of rebuilding the city, and while you’ve done your part, no matter how much you do, it never seems enough.

“Oh, welcome, dear. Your friends have been a wonderful help for my house as of late,” the lady of the Highberry’s Home, Cora Highberry, ushers you into her house, still missing a roof and half the windows but appearing in better shape than most other structures in the city. She offers you a wine glass. “Do you have a preference?”

“Anything’s fine,” you smile, but just as you reach for the glass, it’s snatched away by a familiar wizard’s hand.

Gale extends Cora a gentle nod and that charming grin of his as he hands her back the wine. “While we greatly appreciate your hospitality, I’m afraid my friend here is in no condition to drink as of now.”

The playful roll of your eyes makes Cora laugh. “Ah, of course. But do know I’m so grateful for all your help. I didn’t imagine we would be building the home back for the orphans so quickly!”

“It’s the least we could do,” Gale beams. “Now then, my dear friend and I will continue working on the second floor, so just give us a holler if you need us.”

He whisks you away toward the stairs before you can wave goodbye to the woman. While you’d expect him to initiate conversation, he doesn’t say anything until you arrive upstairs, where you’re mostly alone beside the few other volunteers in the other room. You tilt your head when he finally paces past you toward one of the broken windows. “Gale Dekarios keeping his mouth shut for more than a few moments? The city truly must be falling apart.”

He cracks a smile at this, dusting off a few glass shards from the windowsill. “I’m glad to see you still have your sense of charm.”

“When have I ever lacked my charm?”

He doesn’t lift his head, pulling out his spellbook and flipping through a few pages while you survey the state of the room. “You didn’t return last night.”

You tense.

“It would be wise to be grateful Karlach’s still in Avernus with Wyll, because I’m certain she would’ve given you quite the scolding for daring to miss my world-famous Wizard’s Stew,” he says lightly, his tone morphing into something more serious when he shifts his gaze in your direction. “We’re worried about you, you know. Especially Shadowheart, even if that woman doesn’t know what gentle means in every possible level of hell.”

He’s silently asking you for an explanation, and your heart breaks at how gently he prods at your walls, giving you an opportunity to slip away again. But with how his eyes plead at you, you can’t imagine that would be possible anyway. Slowly, you perch yourself on the windowsill, looking down at the bustling crowd working together to rebuild the Highberry’s porch. They’re laughing—some face red with wine, while others scold them for it. You see a bard playing a tune you haven’t heard before, but it’s effective in lifting the mood regardless, and you finally glance at Gale.

“I met one of Astarion’s brothers yesterday.”

His face is grim. “I didn’t realize they were still in the city.”

“Me neither,” you sigh. “Some of them stayed. From what I could tell, they're mostly in the sewers, but they’re definitely here.”

“Did he seem…hostile?”

“No. He just asked me about Astarion.” You leave out the part about the dead body.

Gale’s brows furrow, but he doesn’t say anything, only silently urging you to continue. And you do.

“He doesn’t want to see me. Not ever, I think.”

There it is. The same gaze everyone seems to give you lately: pity.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” you hop off the windowsill, pacing across to the other side of the room. “If he doesn’t want to see me, I won’t. If he doesn’t want to talk to me, I won’t. I’m tired of waiting for him, Gale. I’m tired of waiting for someone who won’t ever come.”

And despite the puffiness of your eyes last night, and despite the way your eyes gloss over even now, you offer him a crooked smile. “I want to focus on the city now, for better or worse.”

Gale appears the happiest he’s been since returning a few months ago with the news that Mystra has healed him of his orb. “You thought well, dear friend. You should know how glad we are to have you back. We could certainly use more hands in the kitchen, as well, considering—well, you know how the rest of our companions are with cooking.”

Just as you open your mouth, there’s an ear-shattering scream from downstairs. The two of you meet wide eyes briefly before hurrying downstairs.

Only a few feet from the patio of the Highberry home, there’s a crowd gathering with hushed whispers and the weeping of a woman. And when you manage to push through the mountain of people, you finally see the corpse.

Cora Highberry sobs over what remains of her bloody husband, who, without a doubt, has the markings of two fangs punctured through his throat.

[novvabee]

And They Were Roommates pt.3

Summary: Sirius gives you a ride

The whole morning was a rush, one big disastrous rush. It started with you jolting awake in a panic, your alarm on your phone didn’t go off. You quickly searched around for it and found that you hadn’t plugged it in to charge last night. Cursing you hastily plugged it in to at least get some charge before work.

You rushed to the bathroom, flipping on the shower and brushing your teeth while waiting for the water to warm up, which took a considerably long time due to James showering earlier. You jumped in, water still half cold, and showered in a frenzy, water surely flying everywhere in the bathroom. You jumped out, toweled off and wrapped it around your body before rushing back into your room. You would usually dress before going back into your room, being that the bathroom was down the hall, and you didn't want to run into any embarrassing situations like having one of the boys see you dripping wet without any clothes, but you had no time today.

In your room you looked for something to wear, settling on a long sleeve top and some jeans, throwing a jacket on top, and a plain pair of shoes. This would be fine for working all day, comfortable. You picked up your phone, reading that it was only at 5% charged. You groaned and texted Lily,

Cover for me, im gonna be late

She replied only moments later,

Im sick love, i wont be in either… how are you getting there?

You hadn’t thought that far ahead. Lily usually picked you up in the mornings, you were on the way. But now… you don't have a car. You unplugged your phone and shoved it in your pocket, making your way downstairs. Maybe you can catch the train, it’ll pop you out a few blocks away but… maybe the bus? You were going to be so late, you started accepting that you were going to be fired.

Reaching the last step, you see Remus and Sirius lounging on the big, comfy couch. Remus reading a book and Sirius reading a magazine, legs entangled with each other. They looked quite at ease, until they noticed that you had entered. Sirius immediately removed his legs from Remus’s and sat correctly on the couch. You didn’t note the slight panic and red tint on their faces. “Oh, hi boys, um I’m running super late.” you said nearly out of breath. “I overslept.”

“Is there anything we can do?” asked Remus.

“Uh… Do you think the train or the bus would be faster? I think if I can minimize how late I am I may be able to salvage my job.” You joked. The boys didn’t quite laugh.

“What?” Sirius asked.

“I mean, which one is faster? Do you know?”

The boys looked at each other, then back at you. “You're not taking the bus. Nor the train, both are gross.” Remus said

It was your turn to laugh now. “But I have to, I have work and I am already really late and-”

“I’ll take you.” Sirius interrupted. You just blinked.

“No! That’s ok, you two looked comfortable there, I just need-”

“It’s not a problem darling, besides I was just telling Remus that we needed batteries. I was going to head out anyway.” Sirius tried to persuade you.

You were desperate. And you didn’t like to deny the boys when they were so generous. And you really needed this job. “Ok…” you said meekly.

Sirius beamed at you and ran up to his room, likely to grab his keys. You smiled after him. “Don’t let him drive too fast, he has a habit of being a bit reckless.” Remus commented to you now that Mr. Reckless was upstairs.

“I can’t make that promise.” you laughed together

“Alright!,” Sirius called, bounding down the stairs now in a leather jacket. “You warm enough? If not you can have mine” he said rushed. Before you could say bye to Remus, Sirius was grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you after him through the front door. You squealed as you practically ran to keep up with him. You didn’t know that Sirius had a car but it made sense, you pictured maybe a sporty car, probably red. Or black.

You didn't, however, picture a large black motorcycle. You stopped dead in your tracks as Sirius made for the bike and swung a leg over. He held out a hand, beckoning for you to do the same. You again, just blinked. “Sirius…” you started.

“Oh yeah!” he said as if realizing his mistake and grabbing his matching black helmet, handing it to you. “Come on love, I thought you said you were late.”

“Sirius I can’t get on that!” you protested

“Oh, I’ll help you on-”

“You didn't tell me you had a motorcycle! I thought you'd take me in a car.”

“I didn’t mention it? Huh…”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. You were desperate but a motorcycle…

“Come on love, I promise I’ll get you there in one piece. I’ll go slow.” he looked at you hopefully. “You can wear my helmet, you can tell me if I’m going too fast, and you can get off anytime you want, though I wouldn’t advise that because you need to get to work quickly.”

Desperate. The only way you’d get on the back of his bike. Desperation.

Taking Sirius’s hand and climbing on behind him, put the helmet on, and your arms around his waist. Squeezing tight. This made Sirius chuckle.

“I still have to be able to breathe, doll,” Sirius said while kicking off. You loosened your death grip but still held on.

Remus was right, Sirius had a habit of driving like a madman. More than a few times you had to yell at him to slow down or be safer. You could tell he was trying, for your sake, but you would hate to see how he normally drives. 

All in all, he did get you there alive, and very quickly. You thanked him and hopped off the bike. “See that wasn’t so bad was it?” he said to you with a smile. You laughed.

“How does my hair look? Ok?” you asked.

“You look gorgeous, love.” This made a noticeable heat rise to your face. “Do you need me to pick you up?”

You weighed your options again; bus, train, death machine with Sirius. You figured, anything could be made fun as long as it was with Sirius, death trap or not. So you nodded and smiled at the boy.

Taglist : @too-efn-old-to-be-here @cometsghost @eeviee4

[sanspuppet]

Hey! I know your hard hours are currently closed but you can take your time on this request I'll be patient hehe but i need YOU to write this because you're lowkey my favourite writer 🤭 but anyway could I request a san smut where y/n gets horny from reading a sex scene from a book 👀 hehe tanku ;))

San x afab!reader

W/T: lot of dirty talk (yay), kind of daddy kink, pet names (sweetheart, baby, kitten), unprotected sex (👎🏻), breeding kink

A/O: ahww thank you anon! i really appreciate it mwah <33 i hope you can like it!

Your legs shut intensely as soon as the novel you’ve been reading comes to an end. Fuck if it was a masterpiece that book, the chemistry between the two lovers caught your attention until the last sentence of the very last page. Less to say it, you almost forgot your own existence reading the scene when the two got finally to make out, they whispered little dirty things to each other ears, groped every part of their bodies, before having the most romantic and wild sex you could have ever experienced. You closed the book, placing it next to your side. Your legs were crossed and your stare lost in thin air.

“What got you so exited, sweetheart?” San was heading towards you, with a slight smirk growing on his face, his dimples popped out of his cheeks.

“W-What? What are you talking ‘bout?” you looked at him sitting next to you on the couch, lips parted because you were still regaining consciousness from the book.

“Look at you, baby” panic and shame flowed through your veins, as he pointed the dark stain on your gray shorts.

Fuck.

“You must have liked that novel so much, am i right?” his left hand rested on your inner thigh, caressing it gently. He wasn’t really expecting a reply, though. “Was the sex scene better than our personal ones, baby?” he enjoyed teasing you for sure.

Actually, you liked very much having sex with him, but at only the thought of him fucking you the way you just read, you were throbbing. Which he immediately noticed because of your light clothes.

“Tell me how should i fuck you, then.” he got close to your ear, his thumb rubbed against your lower lip. “Do it for me, kitten” he planted a kiss on your burning cheeks.

“Grope me San, please” you didn’t want to sound too much desperate, but the timbre of your voice couldn’t lie to him. San quickly picked you up so easily that you seemed weighting just as much as a feather.

He threw you onto the bed, his hands found their ways under you t-shirt. “Yeah i see, you want me to touch your soft skin, leave bruises and hickeys all over it?” San squeezed your tits, capturing your lips in his. “I can’t wait to be inside you, you’re so wet i can see it.” One of his hands went down your body, once he reached your panties, he slided one finger under them, rubbing it against your sobbing cunt. Pathetic mumbles left your mouth, your nails were already scratching his back.

“I need this pussy so bad, i wanna give you my babies and stuff you full.” The innocence in his voice was (to say the least) out of tune with the actual meaning of his words. San didn’t hesitate much to drag down your lower-half clothes and shove two fingers inside your sloppy hole.

“Fuck! San!” you breathed out, moaning at the feeling of his fingertips swirling inside your pussy. He spanked your hip harshly with his free hand. “You know how to call me”

He left a hickey on your pelvis. “Say you love me, baby” he kept biting on your skin, as he prepared your cunt to take his big cock, pumping in you with his fingers first. “Say you want me to be filled up by my cum.”

“Y-yes daddy, i want that. Want it so bad” you kind of hated how pathetic and needy you sounded, but oh fuck if he knew how to foreplay.

“Good girl. You’re stretched enough, ready to take it?” San pulled out and dragged his boxers down. His dick was extremely hard and you could tell he couldn’t wait any longer.

“Before you’re too fucked out to even speak, any other particular from the book?” he parted your legs to make room for himself.

“Just fuck me dumb, please.”

“Gonna drive you cockdrunk, kitten, i know you like to” San lubricated his tip, rubbing it against your soaking folds, before sliding inside you all at once. His hands pinned your hips down, stopping you from every move as he started to thrust in you with all of his force. His pounds were deep and decisive, searching for your g-spot.

“Fuck fuck fuck! Right there, t-there. Daddy” you whined out as soon as you felt his cockhead kissing your core. He sped up his pace, pounding rougher, making you tearing from pleasure.

“Take it, just like that. You’re tight pussy’s squeezing me so well” he leaned over you to inhale your sweet scent, the perfume you wear every day that he bought for you, he loved smelling it on you. San giggled in the crook of your neck, then he bit on your burning skin to repress a moan. “Fuck baby, it’s so wet that’s so easy to thrust into it, im not gonna last long”

Your hands cupped his cheeks, planting a messy kiss on his lips. “Please, cum with me, i’m so close daddy” He grunted highly in pleasure, his thrusts got faster but also sloppier. The squelching sound made him so fucking horny, your moans were like music to his ears.

“Yeah? You’ close? Then fucking take my cum.”

San did a few last thrust into your soaked cunt, before you could feel his warm seed flowing into you. He didn’t stop though, he kept pounding to spurt it deeper inside you. His hands caressed every inch of your body, as he murmured praises to your ear:

“Did so well for me, always taking it all. Such a good little girl, aren’t you? You’re so pretty like this.” he layed next to you, leaving sweet kisses all over your neck and face.

“Now tell me, was it better than that book?”

[sapphic-coded]

I Swear That I Don't Have A Gun

You grew up in Ohio with your father, brother, and sister. Your family was small and strange. Because of that, you were picked on relentlessly at school. Until another weird kid showed up. Her family moved in across the street from you. It wasn't long until the two of you became friends. Your friendship became the light in your life. Until it ended suddenly. Rumors followed your friend's disappearance. Russian spies. You didn't see her again until you crossed paths at work.

Series Masterlist

Natasha Romanoff x fem Reader

Warnings: Violence. Some gore. Reader is a messed up assassin and loves helping her friend. More fun weapons. Opera music. Childhood trauma hanging out in the background. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 3.4k

Author's Note: This chapter is finally ready! I hope you all enjoy. I apologize for the long wait. I also apologize for the wait for the next chapter. Your love for this fic is why it's longer than one chapter.

Taglist: @natsxwife @iliketozoneout @newawakening9 @natasha-1million @ilovemcuff @taliiiaasteria @alowint @yerisdumbass @natashasilverfox @fxckmiup @escapereality4music @gbab09

Chapter Nine: You Can Fool Any Friend Who Ever Knew You

Mount Vernon, Ohio – 1993 

The sound of crunching snow caused your head to lift. Your friend knelt down in front of you. The wind swept the stray strands of her blue hair that escaped the confines of her gray knitted hat across her face. As her gloved hand reached up to push her hair away from her face, you tried desperately to understand what you were seeing. The look in your friend’s eyes was not one you were accustomed to. It was too strange. Like something out of a television show or in one of your sister’s books. It was fear and slight traces of panic. But not for herself. She looked scared about…you. 

“What are you doing out here?” she asked. 

Your head turned to look in the direction you had come from. In the direction of the frozen pond. Where the cold, dead hare sunk deep into the pitch black water. You had done it. You had done what was asked of you. So why did it feel like your father was standing right next to you? Scolding. Yelling. 

A soft gloved hand pressed gently against your cheek and slowly turned your head back towards Nat. 

“Y/N?” she asked. 

“I got lost,” your voice shook. You felt so cold. The sting of the wind against your cheeks was gone. The chill of the snow was quickly becoming a memory. Every inch of you was just cold. You were pretty sure your bones were turning into icicles. Which meant if you fell, you would shatter. 

Nat’s gloved hand dropped away from your face and came to rest on your arm. “Is your brother and sister also out there?” 

You shook your head. 

“Your father?” 

“He is at the convention,” your answer was automatic. It was what you were instructed to say if anyone asked about your father. It was an easy instruction to remember. It was true. Your father was attending his favorite convention. Also, no one ever bothered to ask. Nat was the first. 

“C’mon,” Nat said as she helped you to your feet. “We can’t stay out here.” 

Your body felt stiff as you stood. You couldn’t really feel your legs as you went to take your first step, but then Nat reached out to take hold of your hand. Despite the layers of the gloves that separated your hand from hers, you felt a sudden warmth. It was as if you had decided to reach out and grab the radiator in your family room. You instinctively tried to pull your arm back, but Nat’s hold on your hand didn’t let go. Instead, she led you back up the path you had been trying to find. 

Slowly, the stiffness in your body vanished as Nat led you out of the woods and into your backyard. The windows along the backside of your house were dark. As Nat neared your house’s back door, you stopped walking. She stopped and looked back at you. 

“You can’t go in there,” you said. Only your father was allowed to bring visitors over to the house. But even if that rule didn’t exist, you still wouldn’t bring Nat into your home. She was your friend. You couldn’t do that to her. Not when her house was so much better. 

“Okay,” she said. Her grip on your hand never wavered. “My house then.” 

You followed Nat around your house and across the street. The warmth of her home was almost overwhelming when she led you inside. The whole world was suddenly cast in a soft, yellow light as Nat helped you remove your boots. You shivered when you removed your coat and felt your damp clothes sticking to your skin. Nat led you upstairs and left you standing in the bathroom while she fetched spare clothes from her room. 

As you waited in the bathroom, you examined the small room. It was very similar to the one you and your siblings shared. The sink, toilet, and bathtub were all in the same spots. The floor was made of the same small, white, square tiles that covered the floor of your bathroom. But the walls were painted a warm beige. Your bathroom walls weren’t painted at all. Or if your father had painted them, they were just white. But one thing in particular grabbed your attention. 

Sitting on the edge of the bathtub was a bright yellow rubber duck. You walked over and picked it up. These were real?

The door to the bathroom opened, and Nat returned with dry, fresh clothes in her arms. “These should fit you.”  

You set the rubber duck down and took the fresh clothes. “Thanks. Where did you get the duck?” 

Nat looked first at the rubber duck and then back at you. “My mom. Why?”

You shrugged. “I didn’t know they were real. I only ever saw them on TV.” You felt stupid for not connecting the two things earlier. You didn’t have a mother so it only made sense that you also didn’t have a rubber duck. 

You changed into fresh clothes after Nat left. You felt more yourself when you left the bathroom and returned to your friend’s bedroom. She was busy setting up a game of Clue which was one of your favorite games. You settled down on the floor across from her as she finished setting up the board. 

“What were you doing out there?” she asked. 

You picked up the tiny revolver game piece. “Chores.” 

Richmond, Virginia – 2012

She looks stunning. The black dress compliments every inch of her body from her toned arms that spill from its short sleeves, to the graceful curve of her hips, and the commanding presence of her strong legs that peak out from the slit of her dress. Her short red hair looks softer, and the way her earrings catch the light makes you smile. Your focus is drawn to the red lipstick that coats her lips.  

“I know what it’s like to be used by other people.” 

Your smile falters, and you already start to feel the urge to move and do something. Preferably kill someone. But you’ll take standard violence if that’s the only option. The noise and thrill of it all always buries the thoughts and memories that try to climb to the surface. But you can’t do any of that. Climbing into the vent had been hard enough. You had just barely fit. You are also in position. Leaving now would jeopardize your friend’s mission. Which would jeopardize your alone time with her. 

So your only option is to continue to lay in the vent you crawled into. The picture you have of Nat in her dress remains up on your interior visor screen and you choose to imagine yourself in your finest suit. You miss the clothes you used to have. Instead of wearing one stupid suit, you were anyone you wanted to be. You could have easily been her date. Your smile returns. 

Your photo of Nat shrinks slightly as new data appears on the left side of your screen. It’s a message from the phone number you had memorized minutes after receiving it. 

Target approaching. You in position? 

You have just enough wiggle room in the vent to pull your cherished phone from one of your pockets. Your gloved fingers type out your reply. 

Tight fit. Ready. 

As you tuck your phone back into your pocket, you hear the crackling noise of your friend’s comms going live. The hum of voices mixed with the occasional clink of glassware echoes within your helmet. You can imagine the scene clearly. You and Nat surrounded by the wealthy and elite. Your friend on your arm as you make small talk with all the important people who you know so well. Because they hire you to kill their rivals. You enjoy watching the life fade from your targets’ eyes and all the important good wealthy people love staying in power. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement. And the cherry on top is your friend–

“You look stunning Miss. Rushman.”

The stranger’s voice drowns out all the background noise. You stare up at the dull, metal panel that hangs two inches from your helmet. 

“Well, it’s not every day a girl gets invited to watch Tristan und Isolde,” Nat’s voice fills up all the space in your helmet. 

“I prefer to treat my business contacts well,” the stranger’s voice replies. “I find that these outings foster stronger connections. Come. Our seats are this way.” 

Your message log with Nat vanishes from your visor screen, and your picture of Nat shrinks as a boring map fills up the majority of your screen. You are familiar with this map. It’s a map of the entire building, and you’ve been studying it for the past forty-eight hours. You’re here to help your friend with her mission and nothing could go wrong. There was no way you were going to risk your time with Nat. So you are going to complete the objective per her orders. You smile at that thought as you review your route to your target. 

“Does that mean you are moving forward with my offer?” Nat’s voice asks. 

The map on your screen vanishes as you press your feet down on one of the vent panels. You feel it drop open and you shift around until you slide out of the vent and land in a hallway. To your left is a stairwell that only goes up. To your right is just a plain concrete wall. You pull your gun from your holster and attach a silencer over the muzzle as you start walking down the hallway. 

“Your offer is the most appealing,” the stranger’s voice replies. 

“It’s the highest bid you’ll get for it,” Nat’s voice says. 

You hear the stranger’s chuckle. “Your offer did take me by surprise, Miss. Rushman. At first, I thought I had appraised it incorrectly. But after reviewing its history, I found that I made no mistake. Every other bid falls in line with what I expected. Except for yours. I’m curious about your story.” 

As you near the end of the hallway, it splits off to the right and left. You turn to your right and raise your gun. Roughly five feet away is a guard dressed in a clean black suit. He stands with his back to you, and you take a moment to line up your shot. 

“My story is rather boring. I’m a collector, and I choose not to insult other colleagues with bad offers,” Nat’s voice says. Her lie makes you smile. You don’t know what the target is exactly. Your friend did not share those details with you. You didn’t push because it was her mission. Whatever all this was about was probably some secretive SHIELD stuff. Most likely real SHIELD since Nat had only invited you to help her. In the end, you didn’t care. But her lie sparked a small bit of curiosity about this target. 

The sound of the orchestra spills through your commlink as you pull the trigger. The guard crumples forward as blood splatters against the walls. Someone grabs you from behind. You jam your elbow into soft flesh and slip free from your assailant’s hold. You turn and bury a bullet in the middle of another guard’s face. The guard’s head jerks back as a large, red hole eats away at the center of his face. No more nose. Most of the upper lip gone. You hear bits of his brain hit the ground less than a second before his body does. 

You step over the fallen guards and are careful not to step into the growing puddles of blood. You continue down the hallway and kill two more guards who came rushing at you. You empty out the rest of your clip on one of the down guards who was still moaning. The guard is still and quiet as you reload your gun. 

“Oh I simply love this part,” the stranger’s voice says as you near the door that leads into the room containing your target. 

You open the door. The room within is large and square. Crates and boxes line the walls of the room. A brief glance into one of the open boxes reveals a random assortment of props. A storage room. You bet that if you could take off your helmet you could probably smell the musty scent that you know is clinging onto every inch of this space. It reminds you of your father’s storage room in your basement. The way the musty scent sucked up all the air. 

But unlike your father’s old storage closet, this storage room had clearly been prepared for visitors. All the lights were on and the space in the middle of the room cleared except for a single square card table. Sitting in the middle of the card table is a brown briefcase. Not one of those fancy briefcases. Well, maybe it had been fancy and eye-catching a long time ago. Now it bears the weather beaten stains of many years of use. You can see the scratches in the once perfect, smooth leather. The golden metal that accents the rectangular handles carries smudges. 

As you reach the card table, your free hand moves towards the pocket that carries your phone. 

Your visor alerts you to the other person’s approach a second after something loud and painful slams into your chest. All the info on your interior visor screen goes blank and the stream of orchestra music filtering into your helmet from your commlink with Nat abruptly stops as the force of whatever hit you lifts you off your feet. You are flying backwards as if yanked back on the end of a line. The crash of breaking crates swallows up your pained shout as your body collapses to the ground. Your suit feels so heavy. As if it was trapped beneath the weight of hundreds of crates. But you’re not trapped. You are lying amongst broken boxes and scattered props. But you can’t move. A flash of pain seizes hold of your limbs, and all you can do is lay there and stare at the dark visor screen while your limbs spasms.

“You certainly take your time.” 

It’s a voice you don’t recognize. That seemed to be the theme of the night. Nat gets her stranger, and you get yours. Your hands continue to twitch as you hear approaching footsteps. It takes only seconds for the stranger to reach you. Even with the black mask covering most of the stranger’s face, you don’t recognize him. His brown eyes examine your spasming body. You want to say something. You want to tell this man that his yellow hoodie looks like the color of piss and that his brown vest only cements the image of a foul toilet in your mind. But you can’t get a single word out. Just pained gasps. 

“This is what they gave you?” he asks as he gestures to your suit. 

Your eyes lock onto the bright bluish-white light that glows out the end of the man’s large metal gauntlets. 

“The way they talk about you, I thought they’d give you the better toy,” he says. 

You can start to feel your legs again as the man shakes his head and then moves his arm to aim one of the gauntlets at your head. You sweep your legs into the back of the stranger’s. The man falls and the blast meant for your head hits the crates behind you as you roll onto your knees. You quickly find your gun laying near the card table where you dropped it. You get to your feet and run towards it, but quickly change directions when you hear a loud whine. Another blast sends both your gun, the card table, and the briefcase flying. 

You turn towards the stranger. Your interior visor screen is still blank. Commlink gone. It’s almost like your old jobs. Minus the stupid suit and whatever kind of weapon this piss and shit themed man was using. You pull one of the black knives strapped to your torso free and rush towards him. The whine of the stranger’s gauntlets grows louder as the squares of bluish-white light where hands should normally be become brighter. You jump out of the way as another blast cuts across the storage room. You close the distance and bring your arm back to drive your knife into any part of him. The stranger raises one of the large gauntlets to block your strike. You drop your knife and catch it in your other hand and go to dig your knife into the man’s chest, but his other arm blocks that as well. 

You go to bring your knee up when a much smaller, but still painful, blast sends you flying back again. Your limbs don’t spasm like before as you crash again into more crates. Your knife is gone. Your gun is somewhere in this mess. Your heavy breaths begin to fog up your visor as you roll onto your side to get back up. You see the briefcase laying within arms reach to your right. You can hear the stranger’s rushed, advancing footsteps. 

You grab the handle of the briefcase and turn, swinging it out towards the man. The edge of the briefcase slams into the side of the man’s head. He stumbles away and you wish he wasn’t wearing that ski mask so you could see what kind of damage you had done. When he shakes his head and lets out a yell, you look down at your new weapon and frown. Apparently the briefcase is so old that the locks don’t work well. The briefcase is hanging open and the contents within landed at your feet. It’s–

Three gunshots silence the man’s yelling. You look up and watch as the stranger drops with a graceless thud. Three blotches of bright red stains his shit colored vest. His brown eyes are still open but very much dead. You missed your favorite part of any kill, but your thoughts are a jumbled mess. You want to look back down at what is laying at your feet, but instead you look over at the shooter. 

Your friend looks as stunning as her picture. Even better with the gun in her hand. You bet the barrel would still be warm if you could get close enough. If you could take off your helmet and just say anything. Anything to erase the last thing you said to her. You watch as she moves towards you. You spot the familiar traces of fear in the way her eyes examine every inch of you. Searching for anything broken. 

“Are you okay?” she asks. 

She’s so close. Just a couple inches and a stupid suit separates the two of you. It had been so long since she last saw you. Two years had passed. She had become a hero and you thought all connections to your time with her in the woods, in the middle of nowhere, had been severed. You thought she had moved on. You thought playing this stupid game with HYDRA and SHIELD was all you would ever get to spend time with your friend. But you were wrong. 

Her hand comes to grip the back of your helmet. “I need you to answer me.”

You nod. 

She lets go of the back of your helmet at your answer. You follow her gaze as she looks first at the briefcase you hold hanging open. Her gaze drops lower to the object at your feet. A black 9mm Beretta handgun. Your gun. The one you lost. The only one that ever felt right in your hand. 

She’s still playing your game. She’s still trying to find you. 

Nat picks up your gun, and your lips part as if to say something. There’s a million things you want to say, but you can’t. One word echoes amongst your jumbling thoughts, and it steals your voice. So instead, all you do is offer your friend the briefcase. 

“No,” Nat shakes her head. She steps closer to you to slide her gun into the empty holster at your hip. You see the corner of her lip rise into a smirk. “Don’t lose that.” Then, she slides your gun into the holster strapped to one of her long legs beneath the curtain of her dress. 

The briefcase falls from your grip, and Nat takes hold of your hand. You follow her to the exit, and as your thoughts continue to crash into each other and scream, you wonder: does she know it’s you? 

[teapartyprincess4two]

can you please do a Nick panic attack fic. where either him or the reader (his bestie) has a panic at school and the other helps them calm down. (your choice on how the story goes. xx) love ya thx. ps. you're a great writer!! xx

4 In The Morning- N. Sturniolo

pairing: Pregnant!reader x Bestfriend!Nick

classification: platonic angst, fluff

warnings: use of y/n, slight cursing, mention of unexpected pregnancy, mention of bullies/ bullying (brief), short

insirpation: request^^ so technically they’re IN school, but I put a spin on this req :P

summary: Your best friend Nick comforts you after receiving some unexpected news.

—

“This can’t be fucking real.”

A positive pregnancy test rests on your trembling hands, this was never supposed to happen. A meaningless one night stand was never meant to come with actual, irreversible consequences. You were fresh out of high school, unemployed, and in your first semester of college chasing a dream that now felt impossibly out of reach. How the fuck were you going to raise a child on your own?

Nick is the only person you can think to call, he’s in a completely different timezone halfway across the country, but you know he’s the only person who’ll answer on the first ring. It’s 4 in the morning where he’s at, but knowing him he’s probably still awake.

You hold the phone up to your face with one hand, the other occupied with the pregnancy test. The longer you look at it, the more surreal this all feels.

“Hey bestie bae,” Nick picks up on the first ring, just as expected, his corny nickname for you momentarily easing your nerves. A small sniffle escapes your lips, you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Girl, what’s wrong?”

Silence. You don’t even know where to start. You trust Nick with your life and you know he won’t judge you, but the moment you admit this out loud it becomes real. As soon as those two words leave your mouth, the truth will be cemented into reality.

“You’re scaring me. What’s wrong?!” Nick reiterates. He knows you like the back of his hand, but even he can’t figure out what could possibly have you this upset. You take a deep breath, attempting to calm yourself down.

Finally, when your breathing is stable enough, you finally speak. Your voice cracks, “Nick—”

“Don’t do that. That only makes me more worried,” he interrupts you. You can hear his bed creaking in the background as he shifts around nervously.

“Nick, I have something to tell you,” you whisper, wiping a stray tear away from your face.

“Just tell me already. You’re actually fucking scaring me and I hate this,” he’s becoming impatient. Nick’s mind is racing with all the possibilities, his protective insticts kicking in.

“Promise you won’t judge?” the pregnancy test feels heavy in your hands. The two blue lines stare back, taunting you as they dangle your future in your face.

“When have I ever judged you?” Nick’s voice is soft, he can tell that this is serious. He’s being gentle with you, almost like he’s afraid that if he comes at you incorrectly you’ll break.

You take another deep, shaky breath.

“Okay, so remember how I slept with that guy?” You chew on the inside of your cheek, desperate for a distraction as you try thinking of the best way to relay the information weighing heavy on your mind.

“Did he fucking do something to you?!” Nick’s mind immediately formulates the worst possible scenarios, each one worse than the last.

“No. Well, yes.”

“Y/n I swear to God! Why didn’t you tell me?!” You can hear the anger in his voice.

“Nick he didn’t do anything to me. I’m fine, I’m just…” your voice trails off, how were you supposed to tell your childhood best friend that you were pregnant?

“You’re just…” Nick tries squeezing the information out of you, he’s desperate to know. You’re so close to hanging up or even making up an excuse to ignore reality.

You bite the bullet, deciding that prolonging this didn’t change the truth. “I’m pregnant.”

Silence fills the atmosphere for the second time that night. Nick is both in shock and disbelief, and he feels a wave of sadness wash over him at the revelation.

“I was NOT expecting that,” he whisper shouts in disbelief, he doesn’t know what else to say. He isn’t judging you, but he is extremely concerned. I mean, you’re both just kids, and even if it’s definitely NOT his child he still feels an overwhelming sense of responsibility over it already.

“I don’t even know what I’m gonna do,” you whisper, the tears forming at your lash line. You’re one blink away from sobbing.

“It’s gonna be fine… we’re gonna be fine,” Nick replies, attempting to console you before you have a full breakdown. It’s no use.

“It’s not gonna be fine, Nick! I’m pregnant and I barely even remember the guys face! I’m in college for fucks sake! We’re not even mid-semester and I already fucked up,” you exclaim through loud sobs. Usually Nick would feel extremely uncomfortable listening to anyone cry, but you’re his best friend. If anything he wishes he could grow wings and fly to you so that he could engulf you in the biggest, strongest hug ever. His heart is breaking for you.

“Y/n—”

“Fuck! I’m gonna be the worst mom ever. I don’t even have a job, how am I gonna buy diapers? Where am I gonna live? With my parents? Dude, I still haven’t even told my parents. Not like they’d ever wanna talk to me again after this,” your words are coming out a mile a minute. You were start to overthink, every excruciating detail only adding to your unease.

Nick can’t get a single word in, your anxiety fueled rant ringing through his ears as you realize that the worst is yet to come, “Oh my God, I still haven’t told my parents. My mom’s gonna kill me! She’s gonna tell my dad and then he’s gonna cut me off and then I’m gonna be homeless AND pregnant!” The more you think, the more inconsolable you become. The cold bathroom tile hits the back of your head as you throw your head back.

“I’m gonna have to drop out, get a job, find an apartment and fucking tell this RANDOM guy that he’s gonna be a dad. What am I even gonna say? ‘SURPRISE! HERE’S YOUR BABY!’ I’m so fucked, Nick. I’m so fucked…” your breathing is erratic, the hysteria causing you to enter an anxiety attack. Nick can tell that everytime you breathe your sobs and hiccups inhibit you from taking a full breath.

Your eyes are shut tight as you clutch your chest, attempting to regulate your breathing. The wind is being knocked out of you, you’re hyperventilating and the snot that bubbles in your nostrils doesn’t help either. Mascara runs down your red face; you’re a sad, hopeless mess.

Nick finally gets a word in, your loud sobs being the only sound coming from you. “Y/n, listen to me. Take a deep breath… Everything is going to be fine!” He listens as you do as instructed, breathing in deeply before releasing a shaky exhale.

“I know this is hard and I can’t even imagine how you’re feeling, but I know that you’re scared,” he continues, pausing briefly to gather his thoughts.

“I want you to know that I’d NEVER let you do this alone, EVER. We’re gonna figure this out, I’ll fly over there tomorrow if I have to, but we’re figuring this out.” No one has ever put their life on pause like this for you before, it almost seems unreasonable and selfish for you to allow it.

You’ve calmed down significantly, your loud sobs being reduced to quiet whimpers. “You don’t have to do that, Nick.”

“You’re right. I don’t have to, but I want to. I’m gonna buy the ticket now, but you get some rest okay?” His voice is soft and gentle.

You know he’s tired, but you really need a friend right now. If you hang up, you’re sure to cry until there aren’t any tears left. “Can you stay on the phone with me?” you ask hesitantly, already feeling like a bother for calling at 4 in the morning.

A small, sad smile forms on Nick’s face, “Of course, anything for my bestie bae.” The corny nickname makes you laugh, the first sign of happiness since you called.

Every shared childhood memory is playing in Nick’s mind from the time he met you, to the time you defended him from high school bullies. There’s no doubt in his mind that you’re going to be an amazing mother, even if the circumstances are completely unexpected.

“Y/n?” he picks at his bed sheets, flicking pieces of lint onto the floor.

“Yeah?” you slowly get up from the bathroom floor, gently placing the pregnancy test on the sink before walking into your room.

“You’re gonna be such a good mom,” he admits. You crawl under the billowy comforter, bringing it up to your neck for some form of comfort. Nick’s words are reassuring and you feel so grateful to have a friend like him.

Suddenly it all doesn’t feel so scary.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n: this was honestly (loosely) based on my relationship with my best friend. I hope you enjoy hunny bunches!

luv ya! Thx for the req!

P.s ur the best anon for this request xx

- L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii @fawned01 @junnniiieee07 @sturniolololover @missriddle03 @k-l-a-w-s @hearts4chris @maryx2xx

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐

note: requests are open, I will be writing as many as possible because you guys have sooo many good ideas. Please be patient 💗✨

[steviebbboi]

Hope you’re doing well 😊 Just super curious - but how exactly did Good For It Ari and Reader actually meet? Would love a meet cute Drabble/one shot if possible? Thanks 😊

Hey lad~~~ thanks for sending in this ask!! I really appreciate your curiosity about these Lumberjack!Ari and Reader :) Hoping this lands well, and would love to know your thoughts too!

Pairing: Lumberjack!Recluse!Ari x F!Reader (Good For It)

Word Count: 1.7k~

Summary: How did you and Lumberjack!Ari first meet?

You could read the original fic here.

Disclaimer: ***I don't give any permission for this to be reposted anywhere! Pls do not steal work, plagiarism isn't demureeee***

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Warnings/Triggers: Dangerous mundane situations involving a moving box and a speeding car, slight size kink being actualized, seriously cute and intense meet cute/''love at first sight'' - ish. Mild depictions of reader but nothing too specific.

“Oh no, watch out!” A desperate voice cried out.

Ari merely grunted as his muscular arms arched to catch the weight of the box that almost landed on his head.

The voice from earlier turned sheepish as it spoke again. Ari’s view of the person still obscured by the block of cardboard. “God, I’m so sorry! It fell out of my grip before I realized it! Agh, that must be heavy– here, let me take that from you.”

Ari didn’t bother to respond as he wasn’t too burdened by the task. He easily bypassed the arms reaching out to take the box from him by putting down the package on the road pavement before looking up at the hidden voice. 

His breath hitched at the first sight of you. Your luscious hair bundled away from your face in a soft bun, a silky green scarf wrapped around your hair, making you look like a modern day Rosie the Riveter in your white linen button down and denim jeans. Your face was slightly flushed from the initial panic from earlier but seemed to flush for an entirely different reason with Ari’s eyes washing over your silhouette. 

Your nerves spiked up slightly with Ari’s silence and blinking eyes. With the box no longer obscuring your view, the tall looming figure of a man was striking, and he was so handsome. His cerulean blue eyes fluttered with long eyelashes that you immediately felt envious of– and his beard adorned face carried a look that you couldn’t really decipher. 

Needless to say, you both were mesmerized by each other’s beauty. Unbeknownst to the both of you, this also resulted in the both of you just staring at each other for a prolonged amount of time. The silence created a kind of enchantment that wasn’t awkward nor was it uncomfortable, but more surprising and, weirdly, aligned.

The honk of a car passing by was what snapped you out of your reverie. Ari’s unflinching gaze looking up at you made you suddenly realize the tension that carried over the air for the past few seconds and you shuffled closer to the bottom of the truck nervously. 

It was your movement that broke Ari eventually and he was brought back to the present when he saw that you were about to jump down from your position inside the white moving truck. Without thinking, his broad arms reached for your waist. 

His touch startled you and with a squeak, your hands landed on his shoulders to aid him in his efforts to help you down. Your torso suddenly flush against his sturdy chest, you could feel your heart fluttering like a hummingbird as you landed in front of him. Ari was now the one looking down at you, your smaller stature making the atmosphere even more captivating.

“Thank you.” You murmured distractedly, feeling so hyper aware of your body’s reaction to this attractive stranger. 

“It’s no problem.” Ari said quietly, his eyes soft as he took you in now that you were standing right in front of him. 

After a few more moments of silence and looking at each other, you released a small laugh and shook your head a bit, almost like you were ridding yourself of the budding dynamic. Putting out a small hand in between your bodies, you offered your name, a smile, and a handshake. At the sight of your smile, Ari couldn’t help his own small one that formed on his face as he reached forward to take your hand in his large one as he introduced himself back. 

The brush of your skin on his felt electric and your breath hitched at how his hand just enveloped yours. You looked up at him again and really noticed just how tall he was– if he wasn’t giving you the softest smile (that you suspect didn’t come easy for the man), you might’ve felt a bit intimidated, but for some reason, you weren’t. 

Placing that thought to the side, you suddenly came back to yourself and realized how ridiculous you were being, at how you were feeling. You just met the man a few minutes ago (well, almost dropped a box of cameras on him, more like) and you couldn’t act like a normal person! 

With a clearing of your throat, you took a step back to place some space between your two figures. Ari seemed reluctant to let go of your hand but respected the intentional and understandable distance. 

Just as you were about to speak again, another horn honked but this time at you. Seeing the incoming car just speeding towards you, you released another squeal of panic and before you could move yourself, a strong arm wrapped around your waist to pull you out of the way. With an oomph, your hands landed on top of Ari’s biceps. You gripped the hard denim of his jacket and involuntarily squeezed his arms in relief as you tried to catch your breath. 

“Hey, you okay?” Ari asked you worriedly, a furrowed brow replacing the former soft expression as he also looked past you to check out that car. He looked almost angry at the moving vehicle that was now too far to even catch. Pushing back the scare that overtook your body, Ari’s encapsulating arm around your waist tightened, and you realized that you have never felt so secure with a man like this before. 

“Who was this guy?” You thought with your own brow furrowed, so confused by how genuinely safe you felt with this person that seemed to make your nervous system go haywire.

“I’m okay, thank you so much. I didn’t even see that car,” you huffed out a nervous chuckle, feeling embarrassed by your sudden lack of awareness. So caught up in his allure, you felt like a 15-year old girl again.

“He shouldn’t have been speeding.” Ari simply said, his furrowed brows relaxing when he noticed your flushed cheeks. 

You let out an agreeing hum and noticed that you were still clutching his arms. You brushed back away from him to carefully extricate yourself from his embrace, “Oh god, sorry! Jeez, I just met you five minutes ago and you’ve already helped me bypass two dangerous situations.” You let out another nervous giggle before moving to the sidewalk to avoid another dangerous incident, less it be boxes or a car.

As Ari followed to stand in front of you, he could feel his own heart calm slightly from its fast beat, relief flowing through his body at the change of pace. “Anytime.” He said softly, the smile coming back as he matched the levity of the space.

Although lightness was brought, some awkwardness also filled the air as you both felt a loss of what to say. Though you both knew that you could just part ways at this point, it was like you both also knew that neither of you wanted to. 

After a few moments of awkward smiles and shuffles, you looked towards the boxes and remembered, “Oh! Thanks again, by the way. I’m moving all of this stuff by myself and I guess my arms are starting to feel the result of it.” You chuckled and massaged your own bicep in reflex.

Ari frowned again and looked back into the open truck to see a few boxes left. “Did you need any help?” 

Flushing again, you stammered out, “O-oh no, no. Don’t worry, I don’t wanna put you out!” 

Ari looked down at you as if he could see right through your awkward rambles and took another look at you squeezing your arms, and merely let out a responding grunt. He took off his jacket to lay it on the bottom of the truck, leaving him in a simple white tee as he bent down to pick up the box that he caught earlier. 

With his back turned, you still protested at Ari but also couldn’t help staring at how his toned and muscular arms flexed as he held up the heavy box of your collection of cameras. There was something about the way that he just stood there, ignoring your protests, and waiting for your instruction that made you want to capture this moment. 

For some reason, this felt significant and important. The start of something pure and new. Instantaneous lightness made its way into your belly and even through your gazing, you couldn’t hold back a resounding laugh at Ari’s no-nonsense expression. The look, again, made the elevated man seem daunting and unapproachable, but you could only feel soft flutters of giddiness fill you. It’s like a part of you somehow felt familiar with him, as if you already knew him. 

As you led Ari into your small townhouse, and later as you ordered pizza as a thank you, the giddiness and momentous feeling didn’t leave you. You talked his ear off about how you were new to the neighborhood, your family and friends, your work– you quickly found out that even though Ari didn’t talk much, his resounding grunts and active ear made you feel the most heard that you have ever felt. 

He never made you feel like you were being too much during your conversation, nor did he seem like he wanted to get away. He was quiet, but his presence was present and he seemed like he genuinely wanted to be here with you, it was like he got you too.

You sensed that most people would find Ari to be brooding as he mentioned his small cabin that he owned uptown near the mill where he worked. But he was picturesque leaning against your little island, a vein-covered hand gripping onto the neck of his beer bottle loosely as he brought it to his pink lips. Although he was short with his responses, it wasn’t mean or unkind. His expression still carried that softness from earlier as he gazed at you with wonderment and a gentleness that seemed to fit his face gracefully. 

Looking back now, you knew why the moment was important. It was the first time you felt safe with Ari, the first time he saved you.

And it was the first time that you saved him too. 

A/N: This was before the whole incident at the mill -- so I figured that this would give some backstory about how Ari kinda just moved through the world. Still recovering from his time in service, but also still a domineering yet quiet presence. Just a testament to how much Reader has kinda changed his purview of life 🥹 in the most subtlest and unexplainable of ways. I love a good "love at first sight" trope- or well, i guess as close to it as it could get!

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[luvv4j4ybe11]

could you maybe write something where reader was previously human but now is an avatar but she doesn’t know about heat, kind of like what Blue-Slxt wrote with Neteyam but with Lo’ak:3 (sorry if you don’t understand this is my first time requesting anything and i’m still practicing english)

PHEW OK!!, I’ll try my best, baby.

Warnings: p n v, a/b/o elements, dom!loak, sub!reader, heat and rut cycle, breeding kink, Dacryphilla, lo’ak marks reader ALOT, scent kink, swearing, fingering, oral (f receiving), daddy kink (if you squint), praise, slight degradation, choking (again, if you squint), squirting, rough sex, aged up!lo’ak, and I think that’s it. Lmk if I missed anything, and enjoy, my love<3

Translation: “Mawey, ma’muntxate”- “be calm, my mate.”, “Oe omum, sevin ‘evenge,Oe omum” - “I know, pretty girl, I know.”

When you first got your avatar, excited doesn’t even begin to describe how you were feeling. You were finally able to be with your mate, without wearing that annoying mask or always trailing behind him because of his long, confident strides.

You could run faster, climb faster, react faster. You were finally one of the people.

You just wished they had told you about this, though.

The excruciating pain you felt deep in your core, the hot, itchy feeling of needing to be filled to the brim becoming more and more difficult to handle.

You don’t even remember how you ended up on the floor of your hut, or how why the basket of fruits was spilled on the floor, but that didn’t matter. You needed lo’ak.

You crawl over to you and lo’aks bed before climbing on, flopping onto your pillows weakly and tearing your loincloth off, shoving two fingers inside of you with ease.

It’s not enough.

The stretch is nice, but it’s not lo’aks cock stretching you out. You frustratedly pound and curl your fingers into your leaking cunt, searching for a pace that helps you the most.

You huff and whine as you pound at your pussy relentlessly, not satisfied with any pace you experiment with.

Frantically you reach up to your neck, pressing the button on the throat com that was only for you and lo’ak.

“Lo’ak..” you sound weak, as if words are heavy on your tounge.

there’s silence at first, so you go to speak again, but then you hear, “yeah, mama? Are you ok?” He asks, slight panic rushing through him when he hears silence on the other side.

“I need you to..” you take a short breath to hold back the guttural scream you wanted to let out because of the pain. “I need you to come home.” You ask breathlessly, the request makes him already say his goodbyes to his family and damn near sprint towards your hut.

“I’m coming, mama, ok? Just breathe. It’s gonna be alright.” He says softly, a feeling of sadness swirling through his chest at the idea of what you could be going through. And he wasn’t with you.

His voice makes your pace turn more frantic and desperate, soft moans leaving your plush lips, but the second the line goes dead, you groan frustratedly. Pace turning back to what it was before.

The overpowering yet addicting smell loak is hit with when he opens the makeshift door to your hut tells him all that he needed to know, the sight in front of him just proving as more evidence that you were going through your first heat.

The pathetic display in front of him makes a perverted smirk adorn his features, he knew how much pain you were in, and yes he felt fucking horrible because of it, but it was just adorable to watch you shove three fingers into your desperate cunt. All your little frustrated moans, whines, and whimpers made him almost wanna sit in front of you and just watch you, until you were begging for him to do something, anything.

But he wasn’t going to do that. Not today, at least.

He walks over to the bed and sits next to you, gently taking your fingers out of your soaked hole and replacing them with his own, erupting a loud moan from you. “Shsh, babygirl. It’s ok, lemme take care of you, yeah?” He says with a small smile of his face, but his tone was husky and lust filled, just the sound of it had you whimpering pathetically.

You chose to respond with a lazy nod to his words as you tug at his cumberbund, urging him to get closer to you. A little giggle can be heard from lo’ak before he obliges to your request, getting on top of you slowly; peppering all kinds of kisses and bruises in his wake before kissing you passionately.

His lips slide between yours in a perfect harmony, one that makes the burning in your core more unbearable.

Soft moans can be heard from you, and even softer ones from your mate, but you easily picked up on them with the help of your heat. The sound of his noises was enough for you to already feel the knot in your stomach get tighter, instinctively making you wrap your legs around his hips, pressing his body into you more and pressing his fingers even deeper into you.

You nip at his lip roughly, pulling a loud growl from him before he pulls away from you. The sight below him is one he wants to paint in his mind for eternity; your lips were all puffy and raw, face covered in a light purple blush, skin glistening with a layer of sweat, and, fuck..your eyes..they were a completely different shade than their natural color, instead now a dark orange rather than their usual lively green. You looked utterly breathtaking to him.

He leans down to press a quick, loving kiss to your lips before he journeys down the valley of your body; going from your neck, to your chest,making sure to pinch and nip at the hardened buds till he feels his work is done, and when he decides that it is he continues his adventure down until he’s face to face with your glistening cunt.

Just the sight of your pussy splayed out for him like this has his body hot with desire and arousal. A damn near animalistic growl leaving him as he uses his pointer and middle fingers to part your folds, an effortless trail of slick dripping onto his fingers.

You squirm slightly when you feel him part your folds, shallow breaths being blown onto the sensitive flesh, emitting a blissful whimper from you as you reach down to squeeze his free hand for some type of relief. “Fuck, mama…you’re soaked,” his baritone and his remark pulled you out of your haze momentarily, looking down to be met with the huge puddle of your arousal on the bed below you. Shit. You really were soaked.

You only had the chance to feel slightly embarrassed before another wave of pain punched through your core, making you whimper loudly before turning your attention to your mate. “Lo’ak, please! Need you s’bad..” you cried, wrapping a dainty hand around his wrist before grinding into his hand shamelessly.

Lo’ak briefly lets himself be hypnotized by your incoherent stare before snapping out of it, pinning both of your wrists with his hand and wrapping his other around your hip.

“Enough. Lemme help you, yeah? Can you be good for me and let me play with you?” He asked through a thick tone of lust, but It came out as more of a demand than a question. Nevertheless, you obeyed to his request because you wanted to be good for him.

A soft hum of approval came from him before he finally wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking and licking at the sensitive bundle of nerves before licking a bold stripe up your pussy. The sensation has you on cloud nine, already hurdling towards the edge once you feel him slide his skilled tongue into your greedy hole, curling it upwards to press against your sweet spot. Making you see stars instantly as loud streams of moans and whimpers left your plush lips.

“Don’t cum, mama. Not yet.” He insisted, now letting your wrist go to lay his hand flat on your stomach. If you could furrow your brows at him, you would. There’s no way you could hold it, not with how over sensitive your heat was making you.

Before you could open your mouth to protest, you’re interrupted by his finger nudging itself inside of you, the length of it now pressing directly against your sweet spot. You knew the coil in your stomach was seconds away from snapping, and so did he. “Lo’ak! Please, I can’t hold it..needa cum s’bad..please!,” you beg, a soft pout on your face when you feel him pull his finger out of you.

Lo’ak smirks at your bratty expression before leaving a sweet kiss to your clit, “Nope. Not yet, mama.” He coos, kissing your clit a few more times before wrapping his lips around the bud and sucking softly, making a loud moan leave your lips and a broken plea for him to speed up, to which he denies. He knew that if he were to make you cum now, you’d be ready to go in a matter of seconds. So he wanted to drag it out longer, instead turning those seconds into minutes.

With his hands all over you, combined with his addictingly earthy scent, you knew it wouldn’t take much to get you close again. And sure enough, with just a little more flicks and sucks of your clit, you felt yourself getting closer to letting go.

Lo’ak didn’t even have to ask if you were close, he read you like a book. Which is why he didn’t stop his movements, if anything he increased them.

The sensation was enough to have you shaking, already a mess for him just from some little licks. “Fuck!~ please, lolo! Can I cum? I~ah~I wanna..please..” you babble, brain turning into goo once his tounge slides inside of you, emitting an almost pornographic moan from you. You’re thanking your lucky stars now that your hut is the furthest away from the village.

He taps your thigh lightly, signaling that you can let go as he whispers a sweet “you can cum now, ok mama? Need you to be a good girl for daddy and cum all over my face,” The huskiness in his voice combined with the possessiveness that radiated off of him had you coming undone in a matter of seconds, painting his face with your arousal shamelessly.

He doesn’t let up though, still eagerly sucking and lapping up your juices until you’re begging him to let up. And he does of course, because how could he ever deny you.

You wrap your hands around the sides of his face to pull him into a sloppy yet passionate kiss, moaning lewdly in his mouth when you taste yourself on his tongue.

Wrapping your legs around him, you press his clothed bulge into your cunt, silently urging for him to slide inside of you. He groans into the kiss when he feels your puffy folds rub against his clothed cock, instinctively bucking his hips into you as he pulls away from the kiss so he can look at your eyes. “You sure you’re ready for me, mama?” He asks calmly, but his body said everything he wasn’t.

You nod your head feverishly, responding with a breathless, “fuck, yes lolo, I need it. I need you inside of me, now.” The way those words fell off of your tongue so effortlessly had his cock twitching rapidly, instinctively making you grind into him.

With one last glance of confirmation, he leans in to give you a tender kiss as he hurriedly unties his loincloth. The burning in your core has tears prickling in the corners of your eyes, making you claw at lo’aks broad shoulders and let out a plea of, “Babyboy, please..it hurts so bad.” To which lo’ak responds by cupping your face gently, letting out a soft coo of, “Oe omum, sevin ‘evenge,Oe omum…gonna~mhm, fuck..~make it better, ok?,” as he slides his bulbous tip into your leaking hole.

A small shriek comes from you when he presses his tip inside of you, you’ve had sex before, yes, but the stretch is something you’ll never get used to. By the time he’s halfway in you swear you can feel him in your stomach, making you cry out as he twitches inside of you. “Mawey, ma’muntxate..you’re doing so well for me. Just need you to relax and breathe for me ok?” He consoles, trying his best to focus on his own breathing the more you clench around him.

His words soothe you slightly, letting him slide the rest of himself inside of you with ease. You’ve never felt so full in your life, and he was only halfway in. He was so close to being buried so deeply inside of you, you swear you were spraining from it. The burning sensation in your core was bubbling up the more he eased inside of you, and now that he was finally pressed against your gummy walls you felt like fresh water was thrown onto you.

But it still wasn’t enough, you needed to feel fuller, needed him to spill his hot, sticky cum inside of you until you tasted it on your tongue.

“Mama, You alri-“

“Move.” Is all you mutter to him before you wrap your tail around his waist, urging him to set a relentless pace. And he gets the memo quickly, pounding at your over sensitive cunt relentlessly as he wraps his free hand around your throat gently, the other wrapped around your hip so tight you knew there was going to be a bruise on it.

The pace has you seeing stars, wrapping your legs around him firmly to get him closer inside of you, but that was stopped by him throwing your legs over his shoulders effortlessly. Folding you in half under his hulking frame as if you weigh nothing.

“Stay still. Don’t make you tell you again.” He demanded through a thick growl, and you swear you saw his eyes change color; going from green to a deep shade of red before going back to normal. It made you shudder, he was practically dripping in dominance and you were craving more of it. Especially with the way he’s slamming into that sensitive spongy heat relentlessly, making all kinds of moans and whimpers spill from your lips.

The unraveling of coil in your stomach gets more and more unbearable with each one of his brutal, yet particular, thrust. Causing all kinds of pleas and yelps to slip from your mouth, hoping your mate would understand your babbling. “Wanna cum, mama? Shit..can’t tell by the way this cute little pussy is squeezing me. Almost like she doesn’t want me to pull out…is that right, baby? You want me to fill this greedy pussy up till it takes?” You nod incoherently, body shuddering from the idea of lo’ak stuffing you full with his cum.

He knew his words were only gonna make your orgasm even more intense, and make the next one subside slowly, but he couldn’t help it. You just look so adorable all drunk and needy on his cock. How could he not spur you (and honestly himself) on more by promising to breed you?

You grip onto his biceps hard enough to leave bruises, using your hold on him as an anchor as you come undone with a long moan, tears spilling down your face from the intensity of it. “Awhh, already crying, mama?- ah fuck-Such a sensitive girl, i make you cum once and you’re already a mess. My poor girl..” He teases with a fake sympathy in his tone. His words make you whimper pathetically, more tears spilling over your eyes when he doesn’t stop pounding at your raw pussy.

“Lo’ak..i-i-mhm!~..ca-n’t..wanna…” you didn’t even know if he understood what you were saying, hell, you didn’t even understand it. But the soft chuckle that came from him told you everything you needed to know. “I know,princess. You’re being such a good girl for me, you know that? So fucking-mhm~ tight and warm for me. So perfect,” he grunted, the grip on your waist tightening the sloppier his thrust got. You whine in response to his soft praises, tugging him in by his biceps so he can get somehow closer to you.

He swear he could feel his heart ache at the sight of your needy, fucked out expression and the sensation of your soft, warm walls clamping down onto him makes him groan lowly, cock twitching inside of you the closer he gets. “Gonna..gonna put a baby in you, ok mama? Gonna look so..fuck-..so pretty all swollen with my baby in you.” He mumbles before cumming inside of you with a guttural growl, triggering you to soak his cock and lower abdomen as you come undone once again.

The thick ropes of his warm cum painting your gummy walls has the pain of your heat fading away, untill it eventually turns into nothing. For now.

Quiet whimpers and moans turn into heavy breaths once you come down from your high, but lo’ak was still rutting into your slick walls. Instinctively, you try to push away from the overstimulation, but that was stopped by the iron grip on your hip and the aggressive hiss that came from your mate.

His eyes were now a deep shade of red, and his body was on fire. The heat combined with his addicting pheromones triggered the second wave of your heat.

“Lo- wa-ah!-wait! Slow down please, babyb-“

“Hush. Let me use your precious little cunt. And If you’re good for me, I’ll knot you. Sound good?” He told you as he flipped you over so you were now on your hands and knees, wasting no time to situate himself back inside of you so he can continue ramming into your silky pussy. Your body submitting to him effortlessly as he angels your hips so he can ram into your sweet spot deeper.

Even though the haze of your heat, you knew this was going to be a long night.

A/N~ this ask has been sitting in my drafts for MONTHSSSS so I’m so sorry to the nonnie who sent this in, I promise I wasn’t ignoring you, boo. Also this turned out way longer than I expected, at least it’s smth😚 I hope you enjoyed this, nonnie!. Stay safe and stay hydrated, babies. I love you all endlessly.

Duces🫶🏽,

Luvv4j4ybe11

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[carni-val]

When you know, you know [Carmen Berzatto]

pairing: Carmen Berzatto x Reader

summary: Carmy has a problem saying I love you, but he's got no problem showing it.

warnings: Slight angst if you squint really hard, some fluff

author’s notes: Yeah, it's been a year since I've written something but my current hyperfixation on The Bear has really inspired me to write. Carmy's struggle with saying I love you is so real, but I sincerely feel he's an acts of service man. I hope you all enjoy it and thank you so much for reading!

She stood at the opening of the door, looking down on him. She worked a full shift and she was still as beautiful as when she woke up this morning. He, on the other hand, looked dishevelled; he was sure of it. His hair was all over the place from running his hands through the mass of curls with a thin sheen of sweat layered over his skin and he was still a little self-conscious about the smell of the restaurant that had clung to him upon his arrival, as Sugar mentioned earlier.

She didn’t seem to mind though as she knelt down on the floor beside him. Overdue invoices and notes scribbled down in his brother’s chicken scratch surrounded him on the office floor.

She was closer now, and yes, still beautiful.

“Hi,” she smiled sweetly.

“Hey,” he couldn’t help but huff out a sigh.

Prepping the menu and serving it to all the customers was more than enough work for the day, especially with the disastrous system Richie insisted on upholding. The bed he’d been dreaming about collapsing into, beside her, seemed to get more and more distant with more of the shit he uncovered in the office. Who knew an office so small could have so much shit hiding in it?

“Still sorting, huh?” her eyes held sympathy for him, noticing how tired he looked.

“Still sorting,” he confirmed, his eyes softening when they met hers. “I think it’s gonna be another long night for me tonight, I’m sorry.”

“Can I help?” she asked, already scanning the documents.

“No, I’m sure you’ve had a long day. Why don’t you go home and go to bed?” he reached out and stroked her cheek with his hand, cupping her jaw with the palm of it.

She leaned into his touch, “You’ve had a long day too, and I’ve got the day off tomorrow. Let me help.” She settled down on the floor next to him. “What can I do?”

Carmy’s gaze lingered on her. If he thought about it all too long, he’d break down, he was sure of it, so he simply asked her to organize the overdue invoices — ones for the restaurant, ones for the inventory and so on.

“Yes chef,” she replied with a cheeky grin.

Carmy felt the laugh escape him before shaking his head. He watched her for a moment.

He really—

He couldn’t bring himself to finish that sentence. Maybe it was something to do with Donna, or the fact that he never really had a girlfriend before her, or because he still couldn’t figure out what the hell she was still doing with him.

His breath caught as he felt a twinge in his chest. He brought a hand up to soothe it and she looked over at him.

“Bear?” her warm hand reached up and pressed against his. “You okay?”

The concern in her eyes stole his breath but it soothed the ache in his chest. He felt a hint of embarrassment, desperately not wanting to have a panic attack in front of her. He didn’t want to scare her.

So he just nodded and let a smile stretch across his face, albeit tight-lipped.

She wasn’t convinced, but she didn’t push him. She just took his hand in hers and kissed his tattooed knuckles.

His smile cracked, revealing his teeth, and it was more genuine. She seemed convinced, releasing his hand and turning back to the work.

“You hungry? Can I make you something to eat?” he asked instead.

“I’m okay, I had a late lunch.”

“Are you sure? It’ll take me a minute.”

“I’m sure,” she smiled up at him. “I just wanna get this done so you can get to bed.”

Her hand reached up and held his cheek this time. She ran her thumb underneath the bag of his eye. After kissing the palm of her hand, they got to work.

After almost three hours of sorting, Carmy excused himself for a smoke break.

“Can I make you something?” he offered once again, standing in the doorway.

She shook her head, deciding that he’d done enough cooking for the day. Although she was starving at this point, she just wanted to get Carmy home and to bed so he could rest.

Although he lingered at the door for a moment, to probably try and convince her, he decided against it, leaving the office with his cigarettes in hand.

She knew he loved to cook for her, always watching her as she took the first bite of anything he cooked for her, but seeing the toll the restaurant had taken on him after only just a week was beginning to worry her. That’s why whenever her stomach grumbled, she let out a cough or ruffled some papers around to try and mask the sound. She knew Carmy would put her before himself and she couldn’t allow that.

She decided she’d eat once he went to bed, or maybe when he got into the shower.

Yeah. The shower seemed like a good idea.

A great one actually.

Spending three hours sorting through paperwork seemed like enough to call it a night — seven hours since she had lunch. Her stomach grumbled again and she could swear she smelt hints of beef, sautéed onions and peppers in the air.

She really needed to get home.

At the thought, the door to the office opened and behind her stood Carmy with two plates, a sandwich on each of them.

“Carmy-“

She began to protest but he stopped her. He knelt down, not having to dodge copious amounts of papers now that everything was sorted into neat, organized piles.

“I could hear your stomach from out there,” he nodded his head towards the kitchen.

A sheepish expression overtook her face as she looked down to the steaming contents within the sandwich.

“This looks and smells amazing, Bear.”

“Tastes even better,” he held out a plate to her.

Eagerly, she took the plate in one hand and picked up the sandwich with the other and took a bite. Flavours melded together to cause a more than satisfactory feeling to overcome her. Her ravenous stomach finally settled while begging for more at the same time.

She hummed as she chewed, nodding her head in complete ecstasy. Carmy laughed, ducking his head and shaking it slightly at her theatrics. She laughed along with him.

His bashful expression made her heart swell. He had never been more attractive to her. Seeing him do the thing he was so talented at was a sight she could never grow tired of. But the drive and determination that oozed out of him as he worked to whip this restaurant into shape opened up a whole new side to Carmy that she’d never seen before. 

She loved him.

Not that she would say it again, because the one time she did, she watched how catatonic Carmy became. After his sincerest apologies, she assured him it was okay.

She decided to let it hang in the air and let him say it when he felt okay to do so.

In the meantime, she’d revel in the ways he showed her.

[starhvney]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: mcd laurance x fem!reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: he's lost too many people he's loved, he can't lose you too

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: diaries!laurance, hurt/comfort, laurance and reader aren't explicitly said to have a relationship or feelings for each other but it's implied, reader and laurance are travelling for a mission together

𝐂𝐖: nightmare, descriptions of blood but no specific description of injuries or violence, mentions of character death

𝐀/𝐍: why is it so hard to write endings >:( anyways kind of short drabble but i needed to get this idea out

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

before he could ever see anything, he could smell it.

that familiar metallic scent of blood soaking into the ground. he smelled it when joh was shot right under his nose. he smelled it when he was in the nether and the scent of his own blood was his only reminder that he was still alive. when he was barely conscious but felt the life of ungrth draining next to him, that same sickening smell invaded all of his senses.

it can’t be happening again. his chest fills uncomfortably with panic, his rib cage feeling like it could break at the seams and burst through his skin. not again.

one second you were right in front of him, that sweet smile on your lips and that certain sparkle in your eyes that you seemed to reserve just for him. he must have blinked, or turned for only a slight second, but that was enough for you to slip from his fingers and out of his sight.

for a moment he froze. the sight of blood trailing into the dark forest ahead replacing the warm image he had of you just a moment ago. it’s deafeningly silent, before a scream echoes ahead. your scream. his feet carried him forward before he even realized he was moving. wind rushed past his ears and twigs snapped under his feet, your name frantically falling from his lips. he usually ran faster than this. why couldn’t he run any faster?

and the smell. it nearly staggers him to a halt as it hits him like a tidal wave.

he finds you, sprawled in an uncomfortable heap on the forest ground. your chest heaves unevenly, every gasp of air was followed by a pained whimper. and your blood. it was everywhere. smeared across your skin. seeping into the moss below you. there was so much he couldn’t even tell where it was coming from. 

he drops to his knees next to you, lifting you up to hold you in his arms. he moves your hair out of your face, cupping your cheek and rubbing it like it would put more life into the paled, blood-drained color.

“come on. don’t do this to me.” he says through clenched teeth, hoping for some sort of response but getting none.

not you. not you. not you. 

he repeats your name, his voice strangled and desperate. he feels your blood staining into his clothes, that metallic scent seeping into his skin.

he lightly shakes you as he’s once again met with silence. complete silence. your chest doesn’t heave for air, and your body now lays completely limp in his arms.

it feels like suddenly his own blood has been drained, all feeling in his limbs numb as he cradles your body to his chest as you go cold.

no, no, no.

“laurance…? …up…”

no. no. no.

“…wake up. laurance, wake up!”

he shoots up from his bedroll in a panic, barely giving you enough time to move back as he nearly bashes his head into yours. his panicked breaths fill your shared tent as you contemplate reaching out to him.

“woah, woah. it’s okay,” you try to reassure him, leaning over to catch his gaze.

frantic eyes meet yours, and before anything could be said, you’re yanked forward into an almost crushing hug. laurance’s hands grip on to you like you could disappear at any moment. fingers thread through your hair as he holds the back of your head, tucking you into the crook of his neck as his other arm wraps around your waist.

“you were having a nightmare… it’s okay.” you whisper to him, voice slightly unsteady.

you’d never seen him so shaken. not since he thought hayden died, or ungrth sacrificed himself. even then, he managed to keep some sort of composure. now, his muscles tremble and tense weakly, the adrenaline from his dream dissipating and wearing him down.

“…laur-“

“just. stay here. for a moment.” his voice hoarsely strains out.

you go quiet, hugging him back. a few minutes pass like this. with your chest pressed against his, you feel his rapid heartbeat eventually slow to a less panicked pace. he regains some control of his breathing, each breath in your ear shaky and stuttered. 

“what did you dream about?” you ask tentatively. 

he doesn’t respond at first, but you feel his breathing and hesitate pick up for a moment. 

“stay with me.” his voice is muffled in your hair.

“…what?”

“don’t leave my side. don’t go out of my sight for the rest of the journey.”

“we’re only two days away from phoenix drop, i’ll be-“

his arms tighten around you, squeezing some of the air out of your lungs. you try to squirm to get a better look at his face, but you can’t budge even an inch. 

“…okay.” you agree, hoping to calm whatever anxiety had been caused by his dream.

“promise.”

“i promise.”

his grip slowly relaxes again, but he still doesn’t let go. instead, he leans back into his bed roll, taking you down with him. you make a small noise of surprise as he does, grasping into his linen shirt to steady yourself as you practically lay on top of him.

“…do you want to stay like this till morning?” you ask hesitantly, moving your head to finally get a look at his face.

there’s a light sheen of cold sweat across his face, his eyes shut tight as he seemingly tried to focus on his breathing. slowly, he nods, exhaustedly extending his arm out to grab the blanket from your bed roll. he yanks it over you, respectably keeping contact with you while using your blankets as a barrier.

“try to go back to sleep and get some rest.”

you wrap your arms around his neck, running your fingers through his hair and shifting up to tuck your chin over his head. laurance releases a shaky breath, steadying himself as he relaxes further into you. soon you hear nothing but the crickets outside of the tent and his deepened breaths.

“i’ll be here when you wake up.”

©starhvney, 2024. please do not steal or repost my works as your own.