#if you just blindly scream about how great it looks (when it doesn’t) you’re telling companies you’ll accept mediocrity

[anywhore]

Why does every rook they’re showing us right now look like they just did their first ever FaceTune and overdid it with the airbrush???

[your-daily-biaswrecking]

Hello! can you do a scenario with fem!reader and father's best friend!namjoon? I totally understand if this is a concept you're uncomfortable with. All the armys are going crazy with the dilf!bts concept so I need to have this 😭

Tbh that's a hard concept (like absolutely don't do this irl y'all plss it's not okay if it's not fiction– go in the notes to read my PSA pls) so I had to write a bit of plot at the beginning just because I wanted to make it as less weird as possible lol

Namjoon wasn't the type of family friend you got to see a lot growing up. He was, however, the type of friend you got to hear about a lot. Your dad had spent his high school years being in a band that never really had its break, and Namjoon had apparently been the youngest member and your father's favourite. He kept talking about how he "raised" him, meaning he helped him get his first kiss and taught him about girls. Then your dad got your mum pregnant right after graduating, and they both decided to move to the US to find a job and start their family. Your family. And so your dad lost touch with his best friend.

He talked about him quite often, and you knew he had even visited once when you were still too young to have a memory of it. You had only ever seen a couple of pictures of them together; Namjoon looked like a very cringy 13-year-old with a terrible haircut. Not that your dad as a teenager looked any better. But that's beside the point. It doesn't matter what he looked like back then, today you probably wouldn't be able to even recognize him even if he passed you on the street.

"Did I tell you? My best friend moved here from Korea! The band kids are back together!"

Namjoon came back into your father's life at around the same time as you left it– moved away for college. And you kept getting all these updates on how great it was that they found each other again, how many things they did together and in general how happy your dad was. When you visited home for Christmas, Namjoon was away so you didn't run into him. And almost a year after he had moved there, you would finally meet him during the summer. Your father invited him for dinner one hot evening in July.

You opened the door to find him standing outside, your mother just a step behind to greet him. “Joonie! So glad you could make it. Come on in, come on in... Ah! As you know, this is our daughter.”

The man was tall and handsome, nothing like the pictures you had seen. And familiar. His eyes met yours and he smiled, making your blood run cold— you had seen that man before. Not even a week ago, staring at you at the bar while sipping his whiskey until you decided he was too hot and couldn’t be older than 30, so you walked up to him and gave him a napkin with your number and a lipstick stain of a kiss on it. He never called.

“Wow,” Namjoon said without his tone matching his words. “She has grown up so much.” And he looked you up and down again, checking you out kind of like he had done that night. Your entire face was burning, turning on your heels to get away. What the fuck kind of luck was that? He was your dad's friend? You hoped– you begged that he didn't recognize you. He wasn't saying anything, though his eyes kept on stealing looks, and so you thought you might have had a close escape. Until you run into each other in the kitchen. Alone. "Come here, young lady," he said in a deep voice that sent shivers down your spine. You already felt like you were in trouble. "Does your father know you go around giving your number to men almost twice your age?"

He was so close, eyes travelling lazily down your form with a smirk on his lips. "No," you choked. "I– I don't– You were staring at me, that's why I thought..."

"I was staring at you because I was trying to figure out if you were my best friend's daughter."

Hearing him say the words made your cheeks burn. Defeat. He had a logical excuse and all you had was that he was a little too much your type. And he sounded like he was scolding you, reminding you of your place. You lowered your head, really wanting to get out. "Please don't tell him."

Don't tell him I hit on you. Don't tell him I wanted to fuck you.

Namjoon didn't reply right away, but late that night you got a text from an unknown number. "I won't tell him anything."

He won't tell him anything. Perhaps that could be applied to what had already happened, or what would happen in the future.

You didn't text frequently, but you did nonetheless. And even though you were sure both of you would say they were simple, innocent texts, how innocent could they really be when the man already knew how you felt about him? Maybe you were crazy, but you thought he might like you too. Maybe he liked the fact that you liked him. It wasn't evident in anything he did or say, just the vibes you got from him those days he visited your house, or the way he looked at you when you were left alone for a second. The summer passed by so fast when every other day you met your father's best friend in one way or another.

When it was time for you to move back to the city where you attended college, Namjoon just so happened to be going there for some work too. And your parents were grateful that you had someone to travel with. The car ride was long and mostly silent. You had never been left alone for so long and suddenly you realised how hard it was to keep a conversation going without talking about how horny he made you feel just by being in the same, tight space with you. But the farther away you got from home, the less you cared about keeping your good reputation up.

"Where will you sleep tonight?" you asked him after he helped drop off all your stuff at your apartment late that night and was already at the door, ready to leave.

"I'll find a hotel," he told you, hand still on the door handle.

"You can stay here if you want to."

"Don't–" His plea was soft-spoken, in contrast to the intense way his eyes were piercing yours.

"Don't what?" you acted dumb. "All I'm saying is I'm sure dad would rather you stay instead of paying for a room. You're like family, anyway."

You noticed how he took in a deep breath, grip around the knob getting harder. "Don't bring him into this."

Saying that you two shouldn't mention your father was like admitting what was going on right now was beyond innocent. And even though your stomach clenched at his harsh tone, you bowed your head and whispered. "I'm sorry."

"This is so wrong," you heard him call loudly all of a sudden, making you look back at him. He was chewing on his lip desperately. "I was there when your dad got your mom pregnant. Do you know what I said? Fuck, man, how are you gonna get out of this bullshit? I shouldn’t be…"

You blinked at him, waiting to hear the end of the sentence. "Shouldn't be what?" You weren't gonna let him slip away that easily. You would push him until he had to say what he wanted to say. It was your only chance, anyway.

Namjoon sighed. He pushed the door closed and walked up to you steadily all while he was staring straight into your eyes. "Why did you give me your number that night?"

Your breathing was already getting heavier. You wouldn't back away. What was the point? He knew already. "Because you were hot. And I wanted you to fuck me."

He chewed his lip for a few seconds, watching your face as he contemplated his next words. "Why do you want me to stay over tonight?"

You gulped. He was so close, closer than ever. "Because you're hot," you whispered. Glance down on his lips. "And I want you to fuck me."

He closed his eyes momentarily before he was exhaling loudly. "Fucking– hell!"

And he instantly moved forward, one hand grabbing the back of your head as he brought your face to crush on his, mouths smashing against each other after all the times you had dreamed about it. It was so much better than you could have imagined, lips full and soft parting yours for his tongue to slip in between, making you moan. And you were trying to get closer and closer, almost tripping as you walked blindly further into the apartment. His jacket was discarded on the floor before your shirt joined it, and Namjoon was growling before attacking your neck with his teeth.

"Daddy..." The word truly slipped out of you, and he was pausing for a moment, pulling away to look at you.

"Really? You're really gonna call me daddy?" Your eyes were wide and cheeks burning, squirming away from him before he grabbed your wrist to keep you close. "Shit," he grunted, not sounding mad at all. "Alright, baby. Show daddy where your room is, need to get you in bed right away."

And you mewled at his words. You were there in no time, pulling the rest of your clothes off as Namjoon undressed too. Big and thick, he was even hotter like that, making you press your legs together as you took the sight in. And when he removed his boxers too, you got to found out his dick matched the rest of his body perfectly, long and thick and so hot it made your mouth water.

"Daddy," you whined as he started crawling over you. "You're so big. You're gonna tear me apart."

His large hand grabbed your jaw. "That's what you get for playing with big boys." And he kissed you ruthlessly again. His other hand travelling down your form until he found your pussy, fingers playing with your folds and humming in satisfaction. "So wet. Is that all for me, baby?"

"Yes, daddy," you moaned, hips trying to grind on his hand for some more friction. "I've been wet for you since I first saw you."

"Fuck. I know, baby," he breathed into your ear, two fingers slipping slowly inside you and stretching you out. "I could tell. You weren't hiding it very well, baby. How much you wanted me to ruin you. Which is why daddy's been hard for you all this time, too." Your breath was hitching as he was moving his hands slowly, not even trying to fuck you like that, just trying to get you ready for his cock. And he stopped. "Are you gonna let daddy fuck you raw, baby?"

You almost screamed. "Fuck, yes, daddy, please! Fuck me open with your cock."

Namjoon was growling as he retrieved his fingers from inside you. "What a dirty mouth! Who taught you to speak like that, you dirty, little whore? I thought you were a good girl."

Your nails were scratching his back as you whined and squirmed underneath him. "Oh, daddy, please! I need you! I'll be good for you."

And you felt the tip of his dick press against your entrance as he shushed you. "Alright then. Be a good girl for daddy and take this big cock like the good, little slut you are." And he shoved himself in you.

"O–oh my god!" you yelped. Namjoon didn't go easy on you, didn't go slow or gentle, he started pounding you fast and hard right away, truly fucking you open like you had asked him to. You were squirming underneath him but his body was so big and strong, it was caging you completely. And just to shut you up he kissed you again, tongue so deep in your mouth he was choking you. Namjoon was fucking you so hard he brought tears to your eyes, and you felt euphoric being used by him like that.

"My dirty, little cunt," he rasped after he freed your mouth. "Like taking my cock like that?" You were nodding, mewling, unable to speak. "What a good girl. Letting daddy fuck her as hard as he wants." He leaned back, grabbing your arms until he had your wrists pinned above your head and the new position gave him the ability to piston his hips against yours even faster, diving even deeper.

"Fuck, daddy, I'm gonna cum," you cried, legs shaking as they fought against his abusing thrusts between them.

"So easy," Namjoon panted with a smirk. "So easy to please you. Gonna cum cuz you've never had dick like daddy's before, huh? No one's ever fucked you this good? Those little boys your age, I bet they don't know shit about pleasing a nasty girl like you." He spat on his free hand and brought it right down on your clit, pressing on it hard. And you were moaning even louder. "There you go, baby. You can cum on daddy's dick now."

"Namjoon–" you yelped, and you felt your orgasm pop, gushing all your juices over him as he kept fucking you through it. He slowed down a bit, coming down to kiss you sloppily as you continued to whine with each thrust against your sensitive, tight walls.

"That's my good girl," he whispered, kissing you almost lovingly. "Don't worry, baby. We're not nearly done yet." And his thrusts slowly got deeper and deeper. "You really shouldn't have let me fuck you, baby. Cuz now I don't ever plan on stopping."

Masterlist | Part 2

[dameronology]

the one with all the yelling {obi-wan x reader}

summary: after making a stupid decision in battle and having an argument with your best friend, a confession slips out that surprises both of you (or maybe it doesn’t)

this is a reupload bc i took it down for editing. as usual, this has lots of swearing in, just a pre-warning. enjoy!!

- jazz

They say that time slows down when you’re about to die - that your life flashes before your very eyes. You’re supposed to see the thing you love most, the people you value most. It was meant to be a final moment filled with a lifetime of emotions, of memories; regrets and mistakes; unfulfilled wishes and incomplete to do lists. The way it was described was hauntingly poetic, the sort of thing almost made you want to to experience it just so that you could understand what it felt like.

And, having witnessed a near-death experience in recent hours, you could safely conclude that everything in the aforementioned paragraph was a steaming pile of horse shit.

There was nothing graceful or cinematic about the way you had yeeted yourself across the battle-field, mud unceremoniously flying up around your ass as you kicked Obi-Wan Kenobi out of the line of fire. The blaster fire was inches away from your face - mere inches - and that, of all things, was when you figured the final moments might have come.

Instead, all you got was a hit to the shoulder and a mouth full of dirt. You were very much alive - but after coughing up an unflattering amount of earth and clambering back to your feet with all the grace of a beached whale, the same could not be said for your dignity.

At the forefront of things, you’d been trying to save your best friend’s life. That was all you could think about when you’d launched yourself discourteously towards Obi-Wan; he couldn’t die. Too many people - yourself included - needed him. And, you were certain that if you hadn’t been killed saving his ass, the sudden lack of reason from his presence in your life would have killed you anyways. The man stopped you from walking into traffic on the daily.

You weren’t entirely sure what to say to Obi-Wan. You were sitting on the end of his bed, fresh out of the shower and bundled up in an oversized tunic that belonged to the man pacing in front of you. For a man of many words, he was disturbingly quiet as he stitched you up and even more so when he helped you undress and get into the shower.

What sort of thing were you supposed to say in this situation? Sorry that I booted you up the arse and sent you flying six foot through the air? I had your best interests at heart, I promise.

‘Personally, I am rather pleased with the fact I am still alive.’ You broke the icy silence that had befallen you. Obi-Wan immediately stopped in his pacing tracks, head turning to face you with a bewildered look. Maybe that wasn’t the best conversation opener.

‘How could you…’ Obi-Wan went to say something but his words were lost. He’d witnessed you do a lot of stupid things but this one took the cake. This was stupid thing to end all stupid things. ‘Why would you - actually, I don’t even know what to say.’

‘I mean a thank you would probably suffice.’ You muttered. ‘I did just take a bullet for you.’

‘How could you have been so stupid?!’ He snapped. ‘You could have died!’

‘I was trying to save you!’ You reminded him.

Right. There was that - the alarmingly obvious thing that he’d been trying not to think about.

Obi-Wan couldn’t deny his feelings for you; you’d always been his slightly kooky best friend but maker, he adored you. Life as a Jedi could be dark but you were his nightlight - a soft glow to guide him to brighter things, to remind him that not all was lost.

He’d spent hours convincing himself that you didn’t feel the same. You were too busy running around with what Obi-Wan was certain was a singular brain cell, getting yourself into trouble and making questionable decisions. But, now that you’d quite literally thrown yourself into the line of fire for him? It was certainly a compelling piece of evidence to the contrary.

(Of course, you loved him too. You’d been in love with him since the day you’d met. That was a minor detail you’d chosen not to mention to him - avoiding the truth wasn’t the same as lying, right?)

‘I don’t need saving.’ Obi-Wan said.

‘Oh, please.’ You snorted. ‘You might be Jedi Master Kenobi of the High Jedi Council, Best Jedi To Ever Jedi and Regular Shagger of the Jedi Code-’

‘- you used the word Jedi a few too many times there-’

‘- but you are not bulletproof!’

‘Neither are you!’

‘But I’m alive, aren’t I?’ Your tone was suddenly soft. ‘I’m in one piece.’

‘Barely.’ He murmured. ‘You can’t do things like that.’

‘Well, I did.’ You would have raised your voice louder had your shoulder not been screaming in pain. ‘And stomping around like a pissy toddler isn’t going to change it.’

The most terrifying part - for both of you, truthfully speaking - was how quickly you had done it. You hadn’t even thought about it; you saw red and you launched yourself into the blaster’s path without even considering the consequences. The most important thing to you in that moment had been that Obi-Wan’s life was at risk and it had led to a sudden disregard for your own.

‘I’ll get better.’ You continued. ‘I’m only signed off for a few weeks and as soon as I’m on the mend I will be back in the field. It’ll be like nothing ever happened-’

‘- but it did happen.’ Obi-Wan cut you off. ‘I’m always going to remember that you risked your life for me without even having to think about it.’

Grabbing onto the poster of his bed, you pulled yourself up and slowly approached him. Obi-Wan almost backed away when his robe inched off your shoulders, revealing the nasty red gash just by your collarbone. The idea quickly slipped away, however, when you rested your hands on his forearms, hands slipping under his sleeves and intertwining your fingers.

‘What else would I do?’ You softly laughed. ‘It’s you, Obi.’

‘Would you have done the same for someone else?’ He asked. ‘For Anakin? Or for Ahsoka?’

You faltered slightly, grip on him loosening a tiny bit. ‘Of course.’

‘Y/N.’

‘What?’

‘Don’t lie.’ He suddenly jerked his hands away from you, spinning around on his heel so that you were suddenly facing his back.

‘Fine.’ You grumbled. ‘I would only do it for you. I would only blindly throw myself in front of a bullet for you. Not anyone else. Not a single soul. Does that make you happy? Does that inflate your ego enough, Kenobi-’

‘- that’s not what this is about.’

‘Then tell me!’ You let out a small groan of pain as you grabbed him by the material of his shirt, using every last ounce of energy to make him look at you again. ‘Tell me what it’s about because you are not making sense and I am the world’s leading expert in that field.’

‘It’s not about anything.’

‘Oh, bullshit!’ You whacked his arm, adrenaline worming its way into your tired body and finally allowing you to raise your voice. ‘I just saved your fucking life and you’re acting like a moody son of a bitch and accusing me of lying!’

‘It’s because I love you!’

‘Well, I love you too!’

‘Great!’

‘Fine!’

‘Wonderful!’

‘Brilliant!’

‘Well I’m glad we cleared that up!’

‘Me too!’

‘We should probably stop shouting!’

‘Good idea!’

You unballed your fists just in time to catch the material of Obi-Wan’s shirt as he stepped towards you, taking you by the waist and pulling you towards him. He crashed his lips into yours, knocking the air from your lungs as he did. You’d thought about kissing him many times - more than you were willing to admit, actually - but now that you were actually here, with a handle tangled in his soft hair and his warm lips moving against yours?

Nothing could have prepared you for this moment - for the declaration of love or the kiss or the way he was holding onto you, hands desperately gripping to your waist as though you were about to slip away into the darkness of the galaxy and leave him alone forever. Just a few hours ago, that had been a very real possibility.

You’d admitted to yourself earlier that you probably couldn’t have survived in a world without Obi-Wan Kenobi. Little did you know that he’d admitted to himself years before that he couldn’t have survived without you.

‘I love you.’ His words were softer now, barely a whisper against your lips as pressed his forehead to yours.

‘If I’d known that almost dying was all it took to make you tell me, I would have done it years-’

‘-Y/N.’ He groaned.

‘Sorry.’ You smiled softly. ‘I love you too.’

[bratdesire]

All Bark and No Bite

Pairing: Tsukishima Kei x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Noncon, lowkey incel Tsukki, yandere ( i think?), degrading language, knifeplay, misogyny, slut shaming, brat taming, slapping, belting, mentions of blood, choking, emotional manipulation, belly bulge, overstimulation, painful orgasm, unprotected sex, general meanness, time skip spoilers?

Genre: Smut (gross)

Author’s Note: This is mean, nasty Tsukki brain rot and I had no reason at all to write this. He’s a fucking beast in this and I apologize for nothing. Hopefully someone likes it tho. As always, thank you to my betas @sempiternal-amour​, @kidwine​, @india-katsuki​!!

Word count: 3.9k

Summary: Tsukishima teaches his roommate’s bratty girlfriend a lesson or two.

Please heed the warnings, it’s dark in here ;;;;

Tsukishima has hated you since he laid eyes on you. 

You personify everything that he despises, from your big bratty mouth, to your typical bitchy attitude, to your ridiculous wardrobe which must only consist of tiny crop tops and slutty skirts that barely cover your ass. 

Most of all, he hates that you never fail to give him a raging hard on anytime you’re around. But it’s really not his fault, not with the way you prance around his and Kuroo’s apartment in your tiny, indecent outfits and surely not with the sinful moans he hears you make through the thin wall between their bedrooms. He knows you know exactly what you’re doing.

You can’t not know.

He knows you’re trying to tempt him, test his resolve. He doesn’t miss the way you make sure he’s looking when you bend over in your too-short skirt, panties conveniently missing. You’re always mouthing off to him, trying to goad him into an argument, knowing Kuroo will always come to your defense.

You’re trying to push him until the thin, fraying thread that is his self-control snaps.

One day, it does.

You’re standing in the kitchen, boiling some pasta for dinner when Tsukishima unlocks the front door. Great, he thinks, he’s had a long day full of stressful negotiations for the museum and now you’re here to sour his mood even more. Usually Kuroo is there to smooth out any tension that develops between you, quickly defusing any arguments before you start full-on screaming at each other, so your conflicts have never risen above that threshold. 

But Kuroo’s not here, as Tsukishima learns from you in your annoyingly snarky tone, “Tetsu won’t be home until late tonight. He told me to tell you he said to fuck off if you bothered me.” You’re smirking, feeling superior in the belief that you’re safe from his wrath because you’re his roommate’s girlfriend and he wants so badly to wipe that smirk off your face, preferably by belting you until you bleed.

“I didn’t ask, brat,” Tsukishima sneers, narrowing his eyes at you as he passes on the way to his room. He’s trying to keep a calm, collected persona, but you just get under his skin in a way that no one else does. Usually he lets those types of comments go but he’s just so tired, so tense, and so fed up with your attitude that his bubbling anger threatens to break the surface and boil over. He breathes in, breathes out, breathes in, breathes out. He can tolerate your unruly behavior for at least a few hours until Kuroo gets home, he tells himself. He truthfully doesn’t care about his relationship with his roommate, Kuroo just offered him a cheap place to stay after high school graduation, but he knows that if he did hurt you he’d have to find a new place to live and that would just be a headache that he doesn’t want to deal with.

After changing out of his work clothes and putting on sweatpants and a t-shirt, he makes his way down the hall and back into the kitchen to make himself dinner because he sure as hell isn’t going to eat anything you make. Girls his age never know how to cook, only knowledgeable in spreading their legs for any alpha male that looks their way.

Much to Tsukishima’s irritation, you’re still in the kitchen piddling around like the clueless bitch you are, incapable of boiling a simple box of pasta without the water boiling over and making a mess of the stove. He lets out a groan of exasperation, walking over to where you’re standing in front of the stove to remove the pot from the burner.

“Can’t do anything without fucking it up can you, brat?” He growls at you, purposefully clipping your shoulder as he moves behind you to throw the ruined pasta away. He knows he’s baiting you into an argument and that you’ll take the bait, but the knowledge that Kuroo won’t be home for a while makes him want to see how far you’re willing to go without your boyfriend present.

“You’re such a fucking asshole, you know that? No wonder no one likes you,” you huff, leaning against the stove and crossing your arms. The action squishes your breasts together and he can see the faint outline of your areolas through the thin material of your shirt.

“As if I care about what a useless brat like you has to say about me.” Tsukishima scoffs and he can see your anger in the way your shoulders shake.

“You barely fucking know me, who are you to call me useless?” You push yourself off the stove and take a step closer to him.

“I know enough about you to know that you’re useless.” He can feel his resolve fraying more and more as each word leaves your bitchy mouth.

“Oh, I’m useless? Didn’t that little ginger boy you played volleyball with in high school get on the Japan National team while you work at a museum?” You’re smiling triumphantly as if you’ve won this battle of wits, but Tsukishima can rattle off insults in his sleep and this isn’t his first time putting someone in their place.

“You know Kuroo only keeps you around because you’re pretty and you’re a warm, wet hole waiting for him to fuck when he gets home.” He crosses his own arms this time, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. 

“So you think I’m pretty?” You’re snickering at the reddening of his face and the twisting of his delicate features and it fills him with so much rage that the thread... 

Just.

Snaps.

He’s on you so fast that you can’t even blink before he has you pinned to the countertop, one hand squeezing the back of your neck and the other twisting your arm painfully behind you. Tsukishima relishes in the little yelp of pain you make when he twists your arm back farther.

“Absolutely not. Your slutty cunt is the only good thing about you and even that has probably been stretched out by all the cocks you’ve taken.” His voice is calm, collected, as if he were discussing the weather and not verbally abusing you while he has you pressed into the countertop. Your fight-or-flight response triggers and you start kicking and screaming, thrashing against him in a blind attempt to wrench yourself from his grasp. 

“What the fuck are you doing? Fucking asshole get off of me and let me go!” The hand that’s holding your arm quickly grabs your other wrist while his other hand wrenches you upward by a painful grip in your hair. Your back is now pressed against Tsukishima’s chest, wrists restrained by his long fingers and head bent back so your eyes meet his. They’re cold, unfeeling and send a sickly chill down your spine that makes you still immediately.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll be quiet and calm down. It’ll be easier that way for the both of us.” The monotony of his voice is even more sinister in this moment where you’re completely at his mercy. Your eyes widen in horror as you feel his cock pressing against your ass and it causes you to start fighting him again, no coordination in the way your muscles move in your frantic movements. You’re screaming, just hoping somebody will hear you, somebody will come save you.

Your hopes are meaningless when you’re so small, so vulnerable. Tsukishima knows no one will come for you and he knows you’ll never be able to overpower him. You’re completely at his mercy, whether you choose to comply or not.

 “You know, even if nobody comes for me now, Tetsu will be home later and I’ll tell him everything you did to me.” You’re confident that the threat of your boyfriend will deter him from taking his abuse any further. You struggle in his grip to hold yourself a little higher so you’re more eye level with him. “He’ll kill you if he sees one hair out of place and I tell him it was you.” 

How cute, you still think you have control of this situation.

“I’ll just deny whatever you claim that I did or didn’t do. Who do you think Kuroo will believe? Me, his longtime friend from high school, or you, his whore girlfriend he met a year ago?” A smug smile tugs at his lips, knowing he’s planted a seed of doubt in your mind that Kuroo will believe you.

“Tetsu loves me! He’ll believe whatever I tell him.” He can’t tell if you’re trying to convince him or yourself.

“You really think Kuroo loves anything more than your tits,” he uses one hand to grope at your breasts, “or your ass,” the other hand sliding down to fondle at the supple flesh. The feeling of his long, thin fingers on your body causes you to start fighting again, but this time your arms are free so you start flailing them blindly, hoping to stun him long enough that’ll give you enough time to get away. You manage to twist around and smack him in the face and almost wriggle out of his grip but as luck would have it, you don’t get away. You won’t get away. 

Rage takes over his features, his muscles tensing and flexing. Tsukishima quickly raises his hand and brings it down across the left side of your face. It takes a moment for you to realize that he slapped you, confusion slowly morphing into an expression of sheer, unadulterated fear. The horror that dawns on you, overtaking your features, warms his heart.

“If you’re not going to behave and continue to be a brat, I’m going to treat you how a brat should be treated.” He drags you, kicking and screaming, down the hall to his bedroom. He wishes you’d shut the fuck up, but that’ll be taken care of soon enough.

Kuroo thinks you’re his sweet, innocent girlfriend but Tsukishima knows better, knows what you really are. You’re a mouthy, bratty whore who needs to learn her place and he’ll be the one to remind you what you are.

Once you’re in his bedroom he turns and uses one hand to lock the door. How pathetically weak you are that he only needs one hand to restrain you. He digs around with one arm underneath his bed, slowly getting frustrated before he finally grabs what he’s looking for.

Handcuffs.

He grabs your arm and fastens a cuff to your wrist, tightening them just enough so the cold, hard metal digs into your flesh. It only takes a few moments of your incessant struggling for redness to bloom across the skin of your wrists and Tsukishima can’t help but smile at the sight. 

“What kind of sick fuck just has a pair of handcuffs lying around?” You’re scared, he can hear it in the way your voice shakes, but you’re trying to act tough and he can’t help but roll his eyes.

Tsukishima hauls your body over to his bed, forcing you to follow him if you want to prevent fracturing your wrist. He forces you onto the mattress, body bouncing with the impact. With the other cuff in hand, he fastens it to his headboard.

“The kind that’s going to beat your bratty ass into submission before I fuck your stupid cunt.” He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of your flimsy, tiny shorts and pulls them down your legs. You start thrashing harder, trying to slow the movements of his hands but your efforts are futile. 

“Stop! What the fuck do you think you’re doing a-asshole!?” You’re on the verge of tears, eyes welling up, bottom lip trembling. You shut your legs as tight as you can in an attempt to impede his quest to remove what’s left of your clothing, but you both know that won’t stop him.

Your entire body stills then seizes up when you see the glint of a box cutter blade in Tsukishima’s hand.

“W-What’re you planning on doing with that?” Your wide, terrified eyes are trained on the blade as he waves it around in the air.

“Stop your whining, I’m not going to cut you with it. It’s just to make removing your clothes easier.” He’s looking at you like a parent would look at a child that was throwing a fit, exasperated and tired of your nonsense. “Hold still and I’ll make this quick. I don’t want to get blood on my sheets just as much as you don’t want to get cut.”

You’re cowering from him, trying to scramble away from him despite the handcuffs anchoring you in place. You gasp when you feel the sharp edge of the blade against your hip, not daring to take another breath. Tsukishima slices through both sides of the little bits of string you call panties, revelling in the way your body trembles underneath him. Another long cut is made down the front of your shirt, the box cutter making quick work of the fabric, and his suspicions are confirmed that you’re not wearing a bra. Of course a whore like you wouldn’t be wearing one.

He admires the enticing curve of your breasts, the way your nipples are hardening in the cool air of his room. Your cheeks are wet with fresh, salty tears and you’re sniveling pathetically. He’s almost tempted to tell you that you’re beautiful like this, tied up and naked, crying, but you don’t deserve his praise. 

“Turn over, face down ass up. If I have to tell you a second time, I have no problems carving you up with this blade.” The threat has you scrambling onto your hands and knees, the action hindered by your restraints but you manage to turn over and present your ass to him.

Tsukishima unbuckles his belt, sliding it through the loops of his jeans. He takes it in his hand and folds it in half, inspecting its structural integrity to ensure he won’t destroy it as he whips you with it. The belt is real black leather, heavy in his palm and he knows it’ll make pretty welts on your skin.

“Now, it’s time to beat all of that sass and attitude out of you.” 

There’s no warning, no pretense before he starts viciously whipping you with his belt and you’re already screaming. If you hadn’t been so difficult, he might have warmed you up beforehand but he doesn’t mind. Your struggle was like foreplay, a little taste before the main course and it has his cock is straining against his pants. 

Every broken cry that leaves your throat sends arousal down his spine and he thinks he 

should’ve done this sooner. 

He would have if he had known how delicious your screams were.

The blonde is relentless, the impact of the belt never lessening, if anything, the smacks become even more ruthless. Your ass is an angry red and he can see some of the skin beginning to split, fresh, warm blood bubbling to the surface around your deeper wounds.

“P-Please stop, it hurts so much. I can’t take it anymore!” You’re fully sobbing now, tears and snot dripping down your face. “I’ll do a-anything,” you choke out between cries, your voice hoarse from overuse.

“Look at you, bawling hysterically from a few licks with my belt. You really are all bark and no bite. How pathetic,” he sneers.

“Tsukkiiiiii! Please, stop. I’ll do whatever you want as long as you stop hurting me.” The way you say his name is harsh and grating against his ears, but he overlooks it in favor of taking what you’ve been dangling in front of his face all this time.

The sound of Tsukishima’s pants hitting the ground makes you stiffen on the bed, slowly and apprehensively turning your head to look at him. Your eyes widen to the size of dinner plates when you see his cock: thick, hard, and leaking precum.

When you feel the dip of the bed underneath his weight, you start shaking and hyperventilating at the realization that this is really going to happen. “You… You’re really going to do this.” You sound so small, so defeated and his chest swells with pride because he did that—he smothered that blazing fire inside you with little more than a few flicks of his wrist.

“Yeah, and there’s nothing you can do about it so just lie there and take it,” he says as he lines himself up against your slit. When he notices the copious amounts of slick drooling out of your quivering pussy, the man can’t help but laugh at your expense. “Are you actually fucking wet from this? Does being fucked against your will turn you on this much?”

Your cheeks burn with shame and disgust because you are wet from Tsukishima’s abuse. It’s wrong, you know that, but your traitorous body doesn’t even feel like your own as it reacts to his touch. No matter how hard you try, you can’t stop the thrusting of your hips to try to catch the head of his cock each time it slots against the tight ring of muscle around your entrance.

“I always knew you were a cock hungry slut. You don't care whose cock is inside this filthy pussy as long as you’re getting fucked, do you?”

You don’t respond, tears welling up in your eyes and leaving watery trails down your cheeks. He’s right. You asked for this—if you hadn’t tempted him, you wouldn’t be handcuffed to Tsukishima’s bed, waiting for him to defile you. 

“I asked you a question,” Tsukishima snarls, fisting your hair in your hand and delivering a sharp spank to your ass. “Tell me how much of a disgusting whore you are.”

“I-I’m a—hiccup—dirty slut that loves t-to get fucked,” you stutter, the words like acid, foul and caustic on your tongue. “All I w-want is a cock inside me.”

“At least you know your place. Now let’s see if this slutty hole of yours is worth anything.” Tsukishima finally thrusts inside you, meeting some resistance from how unprepared you are, but he just pushes harder.

Your walls spasm and clench to try to adjust to his length, but you feel like you’re going to split in half. He’s much bigger than any other man you’ve slept with, stretching and filling you so full your stomach bulges where the tip of his cock is pressed against your cervix.

You scream and writhe on the bed in an attempt to get away from the hard, throbbing length painfully probing your delicate insides, but it’s futile with the handcuffs keeping you firmly shackled to the bed.

“Urgh, shit, for a used hole, you’re so fucking tight. I’m d-definitely going to cum from this.” The blonde takes a sharp breath through clenched teeth, sweat beading on his forehead. He doesn’t want to cum so soon. He can’t cum so soon when he’s waited for this for months.

“P-Please, not inside… I-I’m not on birth control,” you plead softly, hoping he’ll at least spare you the humiliation of having to clean his cum out from inside you.

“Tch, you think I give a shit about that? I’m gonna cum deep inside this pussy, ruin you for Kuroo and any man that’s sorry enough to want to fuck you.” He speaks low, muttering to himself but just loud enough for you to hear.

Despite the aching of your heart each time he speaks, you can feel your pussy begin to give as he fucks into you with abandon, his hips smacking loudly against yours. The sharp burning in your core slowly fades to pleasure as Tsukishima’s cock presses against that little spongy spot inside you that makes you cry out. You bite your lip so hard it bleeds to try to muffle the noise, but it’s no use. He heard you and it just gives him more reason to taunt you.

“Ah, I found it, did I?” the man asks as he hits the spot again and again, making you clench around him as the fluttering of your cunt tells him that you’re close to orgasm. “What a dumb slut you are, about to cream on my cock as I ravage your pussy.”

How utterly fucking humiliating. You’re going to cum on his cock and you didn’t even want this, not with him.

A particularly rough thrust into your g-spot sends electricity down your spine, down your body, and sends you careening over the edge, mouth open in a silent scream. Your sensitive cunt clamps down onto Tsukishima’s cock like a vice, but his ruthless pace doesn’t stop or slow as you shake and convulse underneath him. 

It isn’t like any typical orgasm you’ve had, which are usually blissful and warm, flooding your body with pleasure that makes your limbs heavy and your head fuzzy. No, this is almost painful, as if your orgasm was ripped out of you by force. 

All of your muscles contract as hard as they can and several seconds pass before they relax, your body shaking all the while. As it hits it feels as if a bucket of ice water was poured over your head, shocking and jarring, and you want to claw your way out of your own skin it's all so intense.

Once the last of the aftershocks leave you, you slump forward on the bed, boneless, chest heaving with every breath. You’re too exhausted to hold yourself up as Tsukishima keeps fucking into your overstimulated cunt, taking no regard for you or your body as he chases his own climax. 

You’re whining, gasping, hands fisted into the sheets to try to keep yourself grounded as electricity shoots through you with each thrust. 

“Too muuuch, ‘s too much,” you slur, but it only falls on deaf ears.  

The blonde pulls almost all the way out before shoving himself back inside the tight, wet heat of your cunt, and pushing against your cervix so hard you think he’s trying to fuck that hole too. You’re so fuck drunk that your eyes cross and your tongue lolls out of your mouth, strings of drool staining the mattress.

“Hey,” he calls out, yanking your hair backwards so you’re arched back towards him. “Don’t pass out; I’m gonna cum soon, so tighten up.”

You’re barely conscious by the time his thrusts become sloppy and uncoordinated, his own peak just on the horizon. His grip on your flesh is bruising, no doubt leaving purple marks in the shape of his fingers. The pistoning of his hips gets even faster, lewd squelching noises filling the room.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum inside this slutty little pussy and you’re going to take it all,” Tsukishima groans, digging his long fingers into your hips as he fucks into you.

All you can do is whine and mewl as he buries himself to the hilt, cursing and groaning as he shoots thick, warm spurts of cum into your sore, quivering womb. He leans forward, resting his forehead on your sweaty back as he catches his breath.

Some time passes before he withdraws and you twitch and gasp, the barest stimulation too much for your abused cunt. You try to curl in on yourself to go to sleep, but Tsukishima grabs your ankle and drags your limp body toward the edge of the bed.

“You really think we’re done here? Not even close. I’m not stopping until I’ve soiled every single one of your filthy holes.”

[mintmatcha]

I want giggly cuddly sex with tadashi 🥺 where there’s no power dynamic just us two having a good time and wanting to make the other feel good :((

I combined these two little ditties into a fic!!! I hope you don’t mind!!!

CW: established relationship, praise, sex, fluff/smut. 

yamaguchi x reader 

(reader has a vagina- no pronouns or gendered language used)

first time

It's one of the pitfalls of a new relationship; everything the other person does is endearing. 

"I'm just saying, it's weird that the fourth movie is so good!" Yamaguchi digs his hand into the bowl on your lap, picking through the entire bowl to scrape at the popcorn kernels. He tosses the bits into his mouth and chews thoughtfully, cracking through each kernel loudly, before pausing to suck the excess salt off of his fingers. 

God, if anyone else did that, you'd probably be disgusted, or at the very least annoyed, but there's something about Yamaguchi that makes it unbearably endearing. Maybe it's the little shoulder dance he does every time he takes a bite. Maybe it's the way your heart skips a beat when his tongue swipes over his knuckle, catching a bit butter. "Name another series that has a good fourth movie. You can't. Scream 4 is one of a kind." 

He does it again, crunching through the kernels happily, tongue peeking out once again to wipe across his fingertips.

God, you wished he would lick you like that. 

"Tadashi, you're gonna break a tooth." you chide, even as you sink further into his lap. There was plenty of space on the couch, but you had somehow migrated to his lap sometime during the previous movie. The arm around your shoulder tightens, pulling you into a kiss on the cheek. It's greasy with butter residue, but somehow it still makes your heart flutter. 

Fuck. Only 3 months into the relationship and you were wrapped around his finger, watching movies that you didn’t have any interest in. Any little annoyance was forgotten as soon as he flashed you that freckled smile. Every little nuance you discovered made you fall deeper into .... like.

Not love. Like. You weren't ready to admit to the 'love' word quite yet, but it was getting closer. You had been 'in like' with Yamaguchi since shortly after he moved into the cubicle next to yours.  Maybe it had been the way he always remembered to grab you an extra sugar packet for your coffee, or the way he laughed at whatever podcast he was listening to that day, or the way he silently procrastinated at the end of the day so you could walk to bus together: whatever it was that won you over didn’t matter, what did matter was that Yamaguchi made you feel happier than anyone else.  It felt natural to be with him, to be held by him, to be ‘liked’ by him.

...Your only complaint was the pacing. One of the best and worst things about the two of you was that you were both polite, constantly dancing around unsaid boundaries, trying overly hard to respect each other, avoiding any situation that could possibly make the other one uncomfortable. Which meant your physical relationship was nothing more than the occasional kiss.

Honestly, you were beginning to think he didn't want to. His hands never wandered, his texts never turned dirty, and you certainly never initiated anything. It felt like there was never an opportunity to start anything; even now, sitting on his lap while wearing a sweatshirt he had left at your apartment weeks ago, it felt wrong to interrupt a wholesome moment.

Not that you didn't want to. God. You wanted to.

"You know,  I don't think anyone's ever worn my hoodie before." he comments, eyes never leaving the television. He’s enthralled with this stupid movie, even though he had seen it 'dozens of times.'

"Really? I’ve been wearing it as a shirt. " you grab at the fabric, "Do you want me to take it off? "

"Yeah, sure." he responds blankly, attention still glued to the movie. Then, he seemingly realizes what he said, face immediately erupting into a furious blush. He's quick to separate for you, almost spilling the entire bowl on the ground. You mirror him, unsure if you should laugh at his panic or cringe. "No! Do not take your shirt off! I do not want that!" 

"Tadashi. Calm down." You laugh, even as disappointment settles in the back of your throat. Does... does he really not want to see you undressed? Is this why you guys having had sex yet? Did he just see you as a friend? For his comfort and not your own, you inch farther away, back against the opposite arm as him. "It's fine, I get it."

"No, I-" he takes a moment to settle himself, "You look phenomenal with my hoodie on, I just, I don't want you to take your shirt off unless you want to, because it’s totally something I want. I think about it-" he pauses mid sentence, ears burning so red that his freckles seem to disappear, " I mean, if- I'm not like that- if you're not ready- that's not why I invited you over. I'm not expecting anything." 

He gives a nervous chuckle, widening the distance between the two of you more. You let his words sit, only the sound of the movie in the air. 

"So." you begin slowly. "You think about me without a shirt on?"

“I mean, of course.” He is acutely aware of the edge of the couch, his body teetering at the brink, but he bares it. "Can I tell you something? You can't laugh at me. Or think I'm a pervert." 

"I can't promise that. Are you, like.... sniffing my underwear or something?" you joke, a grin sneaking across your face.

He snorts and shakes his head almost violently. 

"Okay, no! Now the real thing doesn't sound as pervy." he adjusts only slightly, his shoulders unbunching themselves. Most of the tension in the air has melted away. That's what was so great about Yamaguchi; even when things turned awkward, they quickly returned to normal. "Do you remember that time Yakki split that water all over you?"

You roll your eyes at the memory. "Of course."

"And you had that little white blouse on?" he swallows, "My productivity at work dropped about 50% that day. It was so bad that the boss scolded me." 

"Yeah, because you were too busy worrying about me catching a cold!" you say, "You even gave me your jacket!" 

"No, I gave you my jacket because your shirt was see-through.” he admits, “My productivity dropped because all I could think about was how I wanted to take you and that little see-through shirt into the storage closet."  

Oh God. This is it. This is the opportunity. 

You lean forward with a tilt of your head, the gapping neck of the shirt falling forward past your collarbone. His eyes are glued to the neckline, tracing over the hint of skin, silently begging for more. You tuck your knees up under you and begin to crawl, only half convinced that this is sexy.  The closer you get, the more he can see down your shirt. His breath hitches slightly at the sight, but he doesn't dare to look away.

"Oh? What were you thinking about doing to me in that storage closet?" Yamaguchi lets his legs fall apart and, hesitantly, you place a hand between his knees, fingertips grazing the grey cotton of his sweatpants. The band of his bright red underwear peeks out from under his shirt and, without thinking, you trace over it with a pad of your finger. At the touch, he leans forward, lips tickling the shell of your ear as he speaks. Your heart is thrumming in your eardrum, so hard you can barely hear what he's saying. 

"First, I would have ripped that wet little shirt off, button by button." he chuckles, reaching to tuck a tendril of hair behind your ear. Your pussy clenches at the low rumble of his voice, so hard you feel like your stomach is cramping. "Then, I-"

A scream cuts through the room. The both of you jump forward into each other, knocking your skull against his jaw. Almost in unison, you both reel back: you clutching your ear, him clutching his lip.  The bowl spills across your laps, scattering popcorn all over the couch and floor as you both frantically search for the source of the noise. The dramatic music of the movie drums through you as some damsel in distress is running across the screen, screaming for help.

One beat. Two beats. 

Then, you laugh. It's one from the belly, that makes your gut ache from effort. You're trying to reach for Yamaguchi, make sure he's okay, but your eyes are watering, and your whole body shaking.  He's giggling too, still covering his lip. 

"The movie scared me!" you explain through tears. He nods in agreement, gesturing to the mess across his lap, including a huge butter stain across his crotch. It's not a funny moment, not when both of you are aching, but an intangible something has you both snorting and sobbing through giggles. The moment is way too long, way past the point of any humor, but Yamaguchi's snickering feeds into yours. 

Finally,  Yamaguchi manages to collect himself, scrunching his lips into a straight line. The corners of his mouth twitch upwards and you dissolve into giggles once again.

"I want to fuck you so bad right now." he breathes. His directness surprises you. "But not on top of the popcorn." 

You pull a deep breath, trying to center yourself. "We could move?"

"My roommate is going to kill me when he comes home to this mess." he says, but he stands anyway. You follow and his hand finds the small of your back, pulling you into him softly. He presses a kiss against your lips, warm and gentle, and then pulls back with a grimace. 

"I think you bruised me.” he touches his lower lip gingerly, as if testing it. 

“I’m sorry, we don’t-” he silences you with another kiss and now you can feel the swollen corner of his mouth, gritted slightly with salt. He clutches on to your top as he steps backwards, dragging you along with him so the kiss doesn’t break. Each step is rocky and unsure (you barely miss colliding into the wall) but you stay embraced, your hands clutching into his dark locks, partially to keep your balance as blindly follow. His hands trace up under your shirt, thumbs digging into the soft of your hips, pulling you flush against him, forcing you deeper and deeper into him until-

“Oh, shit.” he breaks away suddenly, pushing you back slightly. “I- my room- I need you to stay here.” 

“What are you talking about?”

“My room’s a mess, I really didn’t expect that you would- that we-” he shakes his head. “Gimme 30 seconds- please. I don’t want you to see me like this.”

You don’t object as he scuttles away, clicking the door firmly closed behind him. You can hear the muffled sounds of drawers slamming and objects being tossed about as you wait. It feels like you have been standing there, starting at the generic art hanging in the hall, for ages. It’s much longer than 30 seconds, but not quite the eternity it feels like.

The door creaks open and your favorite freckled face peeks out.  “Hi.” 

“Hi.” you repeat. Somehow, every amount of tension had returned in the scant amount of time you had been apart. Both of you knew what you wanted to do, but, the knowledge seemed heavy. It was an explored territory, sleeping with someone new. No matter what your past relationships were, each new experience with a new person (especially a new person you CARE about) brought its own pitfalls and challenges. It seems so serious, so scary, until you tear your eyes away from the floor and actually look your boyfriend in the eyes.

"Did you just brush your teeth?" you reach out and brush a little bit of white foam from the corner of his mouth with your thumb. He leans into your palm with a smile.

"I didn't want to taste like popcorn." he says and you can't help but laugh as he leads you into the room. It’s his brand of organized chaos; there’s clothes peeking out from the closet, miscellaneous knick knacks on the nightstand (including a still foamy toothbrush) and half hung posters across the walls. . You break away to sit on the bed, tracing over the pattern of the bedspread. 

“I like this.” you comment, “Very nice.” 

He nods, frozen in the doorway. Slowly, he reaches up to the lightswitch and flicks the light off. The darkness feels heavy with anticipation and worry as he pads around to the other side of the bed. He feels it too, you decide, as you watch his adam’s apple bob in the low light, this insane mixture of pressure and excitement.

For Yamaguchi, it’s the thoughts that usually plague his mind at night that grate away his confidence. The dreams of your skin between his fingers, your taste on his lips, are so close to reality, but he can't bring himself to make the first move. Even in the low light, he can see the curve of your waist, slowly contracting with every exhale. His own breathing matches your pace and, for some odd reason, that realization makes his chest burn with longing.

"I'm not expecting anything. If you don't want to." he reiterates as he lies down. How pathetic, he thinks. He really wasn't expecting anything, but, god, was he thinking about it. He'd been thinking about it since the first time he had seen you from across the If he could just reach out, just grab your collar and pull you to him, he could finally-

"Tadashi." his skin jumps at the sound of your voice and the sound of you shuffling, laying across the mattress. It's enough to knock him out of his thoughts and back into reality. He swallows back the tightness in his throat as he inches closer to you, his knees brushing against yours. He feels the gravity of the mattress shift as you shuffle closer and closer, until you're within inches of him.  You're almost face to face now, close enough that he can feel the way your breathing picks up as his hand finds your shoulder. You hum at the contact; he's warm. Even through the thick cotton, his skin is unusually hot against you. 

"You're like a little space heater." you whisper. Yamaguchi blinks, thinking, before his lips peel into a smile.

"Is that a good thing?" He doesn't wait for an answer.  He squeezes gently and you let him pull you forward, nose pressed against nose, hip against hip. His own shoulders shake with a silent laugh and you can't help but join him. It's something about the novelty of the situation, the joy in doing something new, breaking an unspoken boundary, that makes you laugh. You both dissolve into giggles, shifting closer and closer until you're laughing in each other's arms, fully pressed against each other. Even through your sweatpants you can feel the suggestion of his cock pressed against you, heavy against his thigh.

" ’Dashi." you whisper into the thin space between you. 

"I- Yeah?" he lets out a shaking breath. You take his hand and guide it to your chest, his fingers immediately cupping the flesh, massaging the flesh with a surprisingly steady touch. The way he sucks in air, fast, surprised, and hungry, sends heat pooling to your core.

"There's no popcorn here." you joke, "If you wanna fuck me." 

It's enough to break through his anxiety and he's against you again, this time with no laughter to keep your lips apart. His mouth finds yours, hungrily catching your lower lip between his teeth, tugging it ever so slowly. The sharpness makes you gasp and he uses the opportunity to kiss you deeper, tongue against yours. He tastes like his brand of toothpaste- soft and sweet mint. It's unexpectedly hungry, unexpectedly rough. 

The kiss doesn't break as he rolls over on to you, pressing your back into the down of his bed. His heart is already racing, battering against his ribs, as he continues tugging and teasing your breast, but he can't find it in himself to slow down. His free hand pushes up the hem of your shirt (his hoodie) to expose your chest. The kiss ends as he pulls away, forcing the short in-between your teeth, holding it up to give him free reign of your body. His head dips to join his hand, breath hot against your nipple. The cloth muffles your moan, but not enough to hide it from your lover.

He pauses, mouth open and tongue lulled out of his mouth, gazing up at you through his eyelashes. "Is this okay?" he's not touching you, but you can feel the low vibrations of his whisper against your skin.

"Yes, please." you whine through the sweatshirt, wrapping your hands into his hair. "Please, Please."

His tongue traces over your nipple delicately before he pulls back,  just far enough to watch it pebble under his touch.  He returns to work, clamping down and sucking, leaving the dull pain of a blossoming bruise behind. Your hips rut up into nothing, looking for any sort of friction.

He continues like this, leaving scattered marks across your skin as he worships you. Yamaguchi seems so content, just learning the scape of your body, but the building tension in your core is wearing thin.

Trailing touches down his body, you slipped your hands under the band of his sweatpants, gripping him through his boxers. Yamaguchi breaks, resting his forehead against your collar bone with a swallowed groan, as your fingers trace around the crown of his cock. Unwilling, he bucks into your light touch, dragging his length through your grasp. You tighten your fingers as he continues fucking himself against your palm, his own hands drifting to grasp your hips, pushing down your shorts just a fingers-length. Finger pads traced against the newly exposed skin, dipping lower and lower until tracing over the lace of your underwear.

"Wow." he breathes, lifting his head up to press a kiss against your chin. "Lift your hips for me, beautiful." 

You comply, letting him peel off your shorts and underwear in one pull. The cool night air made you shiver, but his warm hands soon returned to explore the newly exposed skin. 

"Oh, you're so..." his hand dips in between your legs, dragging a digit through your folds. The sound of your slick against his fingers makes his cock pulse in your grasp. He leaves his thought unfinished as he starts circling your clit with a steady touch. The pressure sends you keening, hips rolling into his touch eagerly, but he remains steady, patient.

He's building you up embarrassingly fast, leaving you sweaty and panting under his touch. Just as your legs start shaking, your body right on the brink, he withdraws. His tongue darts out to wipe away your fluids from his hand and he groans at the taste, eyes fluttering. 

"I'm sorry, beautiful. You can't  cum until I'm inside you." he whispers, sitting up to peel off his shirt. Clusters of freckles dapple his shoulders and it's all you can watch as he scrambles away to the nightstand drawer.  He returns a moment later, eager tearing through the tin foil packet with his teeth.

"Tadashi! Be careful!" you scold as you throw the blankets aside.

"It's not ripped!" he says, grabbing the bunched up shorts from the crook of your knee and tugging it completely off, dragging you a couple inches down the mattress with them. He tosses them aside as he pulls off his own; even though you just had your hand around it, the sight of his cock makes you anxious. It's thick, much thicker than you anticipated, and around leaking, a bead of precum catching at little light in the room.

As he begins rolling the condom on, you peel off your top and Yamaguchi's mouth falls open, eyes darting around the entirety of your body.

"Holy. You-" he sighs happily. "You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen." He surges forward, pressing you down into the mattress once again. His mouth is against yours, swallowing your whines. His hands are at the small of you back again. but now it's about but pure. He's forcefully angling your hips back and forth against his cock, dragging your clit against his spongy head and spreading your wetness against the plastic film. 

"I can't believe I get to fuck you." he says in between kisses. Yamaguchi continues to fuck your folds, his calm pace finally losing it's rhythm. "I can't believe I get to play with this perfect pussy. Can't wait to see you cum around my cock." With a trembling hand, he reaches down and presses his tip against your entrance, hesitating before sinking just the head inside you. The pop of his cockhead entering your cunt makes both of you gasp in unison- and another wave of giggles over takes the both of you.  As he dips down onto his elbows, eyes screwed shut, he doesn't make a move for a long moment, the only sound in the room is his steady breathing.

"I'm sorry, I'm just-." he presses a kiss against your neck, another laugh bubbling up, "You just- ah, you're so pretty. I can't believe this is real." 

Your hand catches his jaw, pulling his face up into yours. Your thumb traces over his cheek, tracing over the subtle dimpling of his pock marks. The freckles scattered across his cheeks, the crinkle at the corners of his eyes as he smiles- he's the beautiful one here. At your touch, he pushes further into you, steadily feeding your tight whole inch by inch, watching the way your mouth gapes and twists at the pressure. Once he's fully seated in you, he pauses, watching your chest move with each breath. 

"Dashi," you whine, hooking your ankles together around his waist, "You're so thick." 

"I know, you're doing such a good job." he presses a kiss against your forehead as he begins rolling his hips against you. Each thrust is rough, your hips angled up for him to sink his full length into you. "Keep being good for me, baby." 

With an unexpected strength, he tugs you closer, lifting your hips off the bed. Each stroke is steady, pumping his entire length in and out of you at a tantalizingly slow pace. His name falls out of your mouth like a prayer, begging for more, but he doesn’t oblige. It stays sinfully slow, building you up in a controlled burn. Each kiss, highlighted by the mingling of your hot breaths, is further raking the coals. 

“Is my pretty baby gonna cum for me? Look how great you’re taking me.” he groans.  He’s praising you blindly now, neither of you sure of exactly what he’s saying, all of his attention focused on grinding into you.

Your back arches further, and you’re seeing stars as he fucks you just right. You can barely keep your vision focused on him, those grey eyes clouded with concentration Your orgasm knocks the breath out of your lungs and you come undone with a strangled laugh, fisting the sheets desperately. The way you clench down around him makes his hips finally stutter, a hiss escaping his gritted teeth. Your chest is filled with a flurry of emotions as you sling your arms around his shoulders, unable to wipe away the goofy grin in your face. 

A few more snaps of his hips has him melting into you as he cums. He tucks his head under your jaw with a hum, dropping you on to the mattress. His hands find their way back to your chest, giving you a final squeeze.

"Fuck." he whispers into the soft of your neck as he withdraws. He's quick to peel off the condom and tie to off, discarding it off the side of the bed. Yamaguchi rolls onto his back, holding his arms open expectantly. "You're so hot when you laugh, you know that?" 

Curling into his arms, finding some sort of gross comfort in his sweaty warmth, you can't help but suppress another giggle.

"Hey, be careful. Keep laughing and we'll have to do that again." he grips your jaw, tilting your face towards him to capture you in a kiss. "Don't test me; I'll fuck you so hard you'll need a standing desk on Monday."

"Oh yeah?" you tease, your hand tracing down his chest, connecting his freckles. "Prove it."

"Oh, I will, come here-"

The distant sound of a door slamming catches your attention. "Yamaguchi, what the fuck?" a familiar voice echoes through the apartment. 

Yamaguchi shoots up, frantically searching for his pants in the sheets. "Fuck, I forgot about the popcorn!"

[down-in-devildom]

Idk if you’d be interested in running with this concept, but I’ve always kind of liked the idea of Lesser Demons (or at least other demons) trying to get to the brothers through MC. How would the brothers (whichever you wanted to do ig) react to seeing that MC is being used? Originally I thought it would be extra angsty if the MC had a crush on the other demon, but you can take the idea wherever you want to if you’re interested!

First off, I am very sorry for taking so long with this prompt. My brain went on vacation and it was hard to get in contact with it. These turned out super long because I wouldn't shut up so I'm splitting these 3 and 3. Next part can be found here: Part 2 Anyways, thank you for your patience and enjoy!

MC being Used by Lesser Demons (Lucifer, Mammon, and Satan)

CW: Violence, Torture, Manipulation, Murder...general demonic behavior

Lucifer

Lucifer was used to demons wanting something from him. He was one of the most powerful demons in the Devildom and he did not make mistakes in his opinion. With power and prestige going hand to hand in the social hierarchy, it was in almost everybody’s best interest to try to get in a higher demon’s favor

To say Lucifer was hard to get close to was a severe understatement. He had built so many walls around himself after the fall and only Lord Diavolo was brazen enough to crash through them, until MC came along, that is. They were just so foolheartedly friendly and open to anybody that approached them. They demanded his attention, rather he wanted to grant it or not.  

It was hard not to notice the Lesser Demons that swarmed the MC like flies all of a sudden when he started to walk MC down the hallways at RAD from time to time. The other demons looked absolutely pathetic with how much they scrambled trying to impress the MC and do little favors for them. They would collect notes for them or conveniently find the pen MC had lost in their shared Spellcasting Class. It was all harmless to him at first until Lucifer started to notice one Lesser Demon in particular kept popping up almost like clock-work.

Lucifer brushed it off as a fragile budding friendship until MC started to look at the other demon with bright smiles and their eyes would shift to the demon in fleeting glances. No reason to get bent up by MC having a crush but the Lesser Demon appeared to have started to notice and was getting a bit too cocksure about their advantage. They would soon be found hanging around MC more than Mammon.

Usually MC would wait outside the student council office for him to get out when his workload wasn’t too hectic but soon it became both MC and the Lesser Demon. After a few times of Lucifer’s alone time with the human being interrupted by the other demon trying to lay on some thinly veiled praises to his hard work, Lucifer was getting irritated. The Lesser Demon would walk between Lucifer and MC and would sometimes not even give MC enough space in the hallways to walk side by side with them, leaving them to lag behind. MC would always hang on the Lesser Demon’s every word and wild gestures but not once did the demon look in their direction or give them time to speak.

One day, when Lucifer walked out of the student council room, it was only the Lesser Demon waiting for him. He asked where MC was and the other demon had the gall to say that the MC suddenly had an errand to run and could not make it. The Lesser Demon then started to commend Lucifer on putting up with such a weak human and how much self-control he had not to just consume them with how blindly trusting they were. Rather or not MC genuinely had errands to run that day or they were sent away to get something this demon wanted in an attempt to get Lucifer alone, the Avatar of Pride was not going to let this opportunity pass to get rid of some of the more annoying pest that have clung to him recently.

“You are correct. It is quite hard to hold back. You may understand more than anybody how irritating it is when you are being bombarded by demons that do not know their place trying to take advantage of Lord Diavolo’s exchange student. Or rather, I’m I speaking more from a personal experience?”

Lucifer takes a sickly amount of pleasure from watching the color drain from the Lesser Demon’s face as they try to stammer out excuses about having to find the MC to help them with their errands. The Lesser Demon does not get very far at all before being strangled by Lucifer in his full demon form and teleported to the dungeons where their screams echoed off the walls but nobody outside could hear.

The next day, Lucifer informed the MC about their little demon friend having to go to the countryside to take care of some family business and had to drop out of RAD. Rather or not MC knows enough about the Lesser Demon to know that would be a lie, Lucifer did not care. MC can heal from a little broken heart but the Lesser Demon will have a hard time healing from being torn limb from limb. It is so much easier to concentrate with one less fly buzzing around and it would seem like the other Lesser Demons picked up on the warning without him having to hang the corpse up from the rafters.

Mammon

Mammon was used to people and demons alike wanting things from him. He was The Great Mammon and despite his attitude, he was really strong. There is a reason why so many witches want to do things for him or let him “borrow” something from them. They want to be repaid tenfold but too bad because Mammon owes nobody nothing!

Now, one thing that Mammon will have to begrudgingly admit is that he likes hanging out with MC almost as much as he likes getting expensive items and Grimm. So it comes to no surprise when a Lesser Demon first tried to spend time with the MC when they were already going to spend the whole day with him, although he didn’t tell them that, he was throwing a mini tantrum. The dumb demon had approached you both while at the cafeteria and asked to sit with you all. MC was way too nice sometimes and readily agreed and so now Mammon had to share.

Mammon’s tune quickly changed when the Lesser Demon nonchalantly gave both him and the MC some gold earrings that they claimed they bought on accident and couldn’t return. Ah, well, who was Mammon but a generous demon for taking these off their hands. And the gifts didn’t stop. Each day, Mammon was slowly losing his precious alone time with the MC but he was gaining so many luxury gifts and trinkets that he didn’t notice anything amiss right away.

The Lesser Demon was always around whenever Mammon and the MC were together and they all started to get closer. Soon enough, when MC and Mammon were hanging out in his room one day after pretending to study and just laughing at videos on DevilTube, MC said they may actually like the Lesser Demon. Like, like like the demon?!

The two actually agreed to hang out that coming weekend and MC was super excited. This was the first demon outside of the student council that they have really interacted with and they were a bit nervous to see how things panned out. MC asked Mammon to kindly not try to tag along so that maybe they can move the relationship forward into something a little more than just friends.

Mammon was trying to act like he didn’t really care that the MC had a date but then he started to fidget around and couldn’t focus on the funny videos. Why would they decide spending time with the Lesser Demon was better than spending time with him? Sure, they gave some really awesome stuff away but he is pretty sure he can get more Grimm in a night at the casino than the Lesser Demon could earn in a year!....Maybe it wasn’t about the money though.

The day of the date, Mammon followed MC, ya know, to make sure that they were safe. Mammon peaked at the Lesser Demon and MC from his spot in the bushes at the public park and watched. MC walked up to the waiting demon and looked to be pretty excited judging from the large smile on their face. The Lesser Demon doesn’t really acknowledge them at first and keeps looking around searching for something. When the MC appear to speak again, the Lesser Demon’s face seems to contort out of its friendly façade and into one of irritation before they push a wrapped gift into the MC’s chest rather hard and walk away.

Mammon was rightly mad about the Lesser Demon just leaving the MC and decides to swoop in and save the day. He casually walks by the meeting place and “happens” to run into the MC. MC appears like they aren’t that surprised to see him but hands him the wrapped gift that Lesser Demon gave them with slightly watery eyes and says it was actually a gift for him. Mammon is too mad and busy sorting out his feelings about the MC possibly being ditched in hopes that he would show up, that he had to quickly remove himself with the excuse that he was going to run to catch up with the Lesser Demon and thank them for the present.

Mammon was unnaturally quick with how fast he ran after the other demon. He was sure the MC was out of sight before grabbing the demon and forcefully shoving the small, palm sized wrapped box into the Lesser Demon’s mouth, as far down the throat as he could get it while the other demon struggled against the assault and for air. When Mammon was satisfied about not even being able to see the present from the entrance of the demon’s mouth and the throat was expanded unnaturally, he rushed back to the MC’s side and offered to get them some ice cream, his treat...this time. If the MC wonders why the Lesser Demon suddenly stopped showing up at school, Mammon just said their luck ran out at the casino or something and they were too embarrassed to come back to RAD.

Satan

Satan is not very approachable to the average demon. He was polite, smart, snarky, and an unabashed animal lover, but not approachable. Maybe it had to do with him being the Avatar of Wrath or it can be because he would sometimes treat the demons around him more like lab rats than individuals. He was a gentleman though and it was fairly easy to build up some sort of rapport with him if a demon had a great thirst for knowledge and knew how to stay out of the way when his patience thinned. 

MC was one of those rare instances where he did not seem to expect for them to understand the finer workings of a particular particle spell to get his respect and it would seem other demons have taken notice. Satan enjoyed the quiet moments where he and the MC would spend hours reading their respective books in the royal library or when they would visit one of the local cat cafes and have laps full of lazy little kittens. The tranquility did not last forever it would seem because a few demons suddenly appear to think that they have what it takes to approach him.

Things were innocent enough. MC had texted Stan ahead of time that some Lesser Demon in their Potions class was really struggling and had begged to study with them to ace the next exam. It would come to no surprise that MC’s grades improved thanks to Satan’s meticulous note taking so the MC thought that he could help the Lesser Demon as well. Plus, the MC seemed a bit desperate to make some friends outside of the circle they found themselves forced into. Satan begrudgingly agreed. It was only an hour or two and he can still get some time in with MC away from his brothers afterwards.

The. Demon. Will. Not. Leave. Satan is practically grinding his teeth with how close the Lesser Demon decided to sit to him at the study table, spouting nonsense about having poor vision. Demons don’t even need eye corrective measures! MC bought the flimsy excuse though and was trying their best to quiz the Lesser Demon on material they went over in class. The other demon was doing suspiciously well answering the questions for a demon worried about their grades. When it was the MC’s turn to answer the questions on the cue cards, the Lesser Demon was being unnecessarily harsh. They wouldn’t give the MC enough time to reply before blurting out the answer or would snidely elaborate on certain topics well past the scope of the exam needed when the MC was able to speak in time.

Satan was trying to not cause a scene in the library but he could feel his resolve cracking. What made matters worse were the little glances the Lesser Demon would give him out of the corners of their eyes whenever they found themselves able to spew out more information about subjects. The more the Lesser Demon talked, the more MC seemed to shrink in on themselves and the Lesser Demon appeared to be getting some sort of pleasure out of it. Could this dimwit of a demon not feel the temperature of the room start to plummet?

Satan had to excuse himself from the library to catch his breath and walked down the halls for a bit to calm his nerves. He was on high alert so he wasn’t all that surprised when he heard footsteps try to quickly catch up with him before someone gently grabbed his elbow. He didn’t lash out because he recognized the sound of the MC approaching well before they caught up to him. He turned around to face them just to see the MC looking off to the side looking a bit embarrassed. They quietly explain that they were trying to impress the Lesser Demon with their knowledge of Potions but it did not appear to be going all that well.

Satan gave off a bit of an irritated snort but it wasn’t directed at the MC. Of course he could tell that the MC was trying to show off but the Lesser Demon seemed set on trying to make an idiot out of them. MC is way too kind and trusting to know when some demon was blatantly being malicious and trying to use them to make themselves look good. So Satan decided against fighting his sin and was going to release some steam. He told the MC he was going to get their stuff from the library really quick and they can head to the cat café to help unwind after a productive study session. “Wait just a moment, please, MC”.

When Satan stormed back into the library, his demon form was on full display. Not that it would serve as much of a warning to the Lesser Demon when Satan immediately captures them and uses his claws to gouge their eyes. While the other demon was wailing and crying about their eyes, he got fed up and threw them out one of the giant stained glass windows. The other demon should’ve known better than to cause such a ruckus in the library. When Satan met the MC in the hallway with both their stuff and without the Lesser Demon, he said that the other demon decided to drop out of RAD suddenly because they could not keep up with the studies. Suspicious? Yes. Does he care? Not particularly...

-----

Did I need to describe the violence? No. But these guys are demons so I feel like making them not so friendly sometimes. Please keep an eye out for part 2-Leo

Part 2 found here

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

Hey Vaunna, if you ever want to try and write something to make me cry, hit me up. Imma start making a list of things I’ve almost and actually cried over in fics-

Make me suffer, I dare you.

welp here we go! good luck everyone LOL

summary: Team ZIT face a blast from Zedaph's past

...

“I dunno about you but I think having only a set of coordinates sent to our communicators with no explanation is never a good thing,” says Tango, gazing around the clearing.

Impulse nods. “Agreed. Especially considering it’s been five minutes and… nobody’s here.”

As if on cue, someone walks out through the trees. The two jerk in surprise but relax when they register who it is.

“Oh, Zed, it’s you,” breathes Tango. “Why did you send us these coords?”

Zedaph doesn’t reply as he walks over to a tree on the edge of the clearing and pulls a lever.

Immediately, a glass box springs up from the ground and closes around the two.

“Hey!” Tango snaps, hitting the glass with his first. “What the hell are you doing, Zed?!”

“Tango?!” comes Zedaph’s voice from the opposite side of the clearing.

Tango and Impulse turn sharply to find… Zedaph running into the clearing.

After a stunned moment, they turn back. Zedaph is standing by the lever he just pulled, but he doesn’t look EXACTLY like Zedaph anymore. His eyes flash red, his hair more tousled and a slightly darker shade of blond.

“What’s happening here?!” Tango demands. “Why are there two of you? Who’s the real Zed?!”

“I am,” says the newcomer Zedaph immediately. “He’s…”

His face pales as he properly registers who’s standing on the other side of the clearing.

“I’m Helsaph,” the first Zedaph says. “Your dear Zedaph’s hels counterpart.”

“What’s going on?” asks Impulse nervously. “Why have you locked us in a glass box?”

“Oh, cuz I thought you might want to hear about what Zedaph did to me,” Helsaph responds aggressively.

Zedaph slowly moves forward towards Helsaph, but stops several blocks away. “I…”

“What the hell could Zed have possibly done to YOU?” Tango growls.

Helsaph jabs his finger at his counterpart. “You wanna tell them what you did or shall I?”

Zedaph’s mouth opens and closes uselessly for a few seconds, before he squeezes his eyes shut and looks away.

Helsaph turns to the two in the box. “Let me see if this jogs your memory of anything.”

He pulls out a pink item from his pocket and holds it up to his eyes.

Tango and Impulse freeze in horror.

“Look familiar?” says Helsaph challengingly. “Huh?”

Impulse stares helplessly at the helsmit. “I don’t… understand.”

Helsaph barks a laugh. “What, you don’t really think it was the real Zedaph under that mask, do you? Surely you don’t really think the mastermind behind the PR stunt that was Wormman would be out there risking his OWN neck?”

“Zed, what is he saying?” Tango demands.

“I recruited Helsaph to be Wormman and then I abandoned him in Season 5 when we moved on to the next world!” Zedaph bursts out suddenly.

Silence falls. Tango and Impulse exchange a look of horror.

“You didn’t know that, huh?” Helsaph taunts. “Guess your precious little best friend never told you that he’s not the moral angel you think he is.”

“Zed…” Impulse gazes at his friend in disappointment. “Why?”

Zedaph doesn’t answer. Instead, he murmurs, “There. I said it. Is that what you wanted, Helsaph?”

Helsaph grabs Zedaph by the collar and yanks him off the ground. “Is that it?! “Is that what you wanted?”?! YOU ABANDONED ME IN A GHOST WORLD FOR THREE YEARS!”

He tosses Zedaph away as if Zedaph weighed nothing. No sooner has Zedaph landed on the ground than he looks up to find Helsaph charging at him. He can’t react in time to stop Helsaph from slamming his boot into his stomach, yanking all the air from his lungs and causing him to dissolve into a fit of coughing.

“ZED!” Tango screeches, hitting the glass wall with all his strength. It starts to crack under his blows.

“You made me play the hero!” Helsaph yells at his counterpart. “You trained me and spent time with me and made me CARE about you and then you just tossed me aside like I was NOTHING to you! Do you have any idea how much it hurts to learn that the person you thought loved you actually didn’t give a DAMN about you?!”

“I…!” Zedaph’s voice fails and he hangs his head. “I’m… I’m sorry...”

“Oh, you’re SORRY?”

Helsaph grabs Zedaph by the throat and slams him against a tree, the pressure on Zedaph’s windpipe abruptly cutting off his breathing.

“You think SORRY is going to make up for what you did?!”

“Get off him!” screams Tango’s voice.

A second later, Tango himself barrels into Helsaph, knocking him to the ground and releasing his grip on Zedaph, who drops to his knees, gasping for breath.

Impulse appears at Zedaph’s side and envelopes him in a hug. “It’s okay,” he whispers. “It’s okay, Zed.”

A little way off, Tango is kneeling on Helsaph’s back, keeping him pressed to the ground. As Helsaph struggles against Tango’s grip on his arms, he screams, “All I wanted was to be loved! ALL I WANTED WAS TO BE ACCEPTED!”

“Shut up!” Tango snarls at him.

“Tango, don’t hurt him!” pleads Zedaph hoarsely, his vision blurred. Weakly pushing Impulse away, he stumbles blindly towards the hazy figures of Helsaph and Tango. “Let him go!”

“Let him go?!” Tango echoes in disbelief. “HE TRIED TO KILL YOU!”

“Please, Tango! Let him go!”

Tango stares at Zedaph in disbelief for a moment, before huffing and releasing Helsaph, though he keeps a firm eye on the helsmit. “Fine.”

Helsaph slowly pushes himself to his knees, his eyes fixed on Zedaph. All his anger seems to have vanished, replaced by despair. “Why did you not want me anymore?” he cries. “W-Was I not good enough…? Did I do something wrong…?”

“No…! I never intended to hurt you.” Zedaph’s voice cracks with emotion. “This is all my fault. I should never have abandoned you, I… I was just so scared of what you might become that I never considered I could help you not become it. And instead… my worst fears came true, and it’s all my fault. Helsaph, I’m so sorry.”

Zedaph slowly moves forward and, kneeling down in front of Helsaph, brings him into a hug.

And after a few seconds, the dam breaks.

Tango and Impulse stand together a safe distance away, watching their best friend hug his crying Hels counterpart.

“All he ever wanted was a family,” says Impulse quietly. “People to care about him the way we care about Zed.”

Tango hesitates for a moment, then makes a decision. He joins Zedaph and Helsaph on the ground and wraps his arms around both of them. Impulse does the same on the other side, both he and Tango holding their Zedaphs tightly.

“I wanna be a hero again, Zedaph,” croaks Helsaph. “Have I messed it up?”

“No no, you haven’t messed anything up,” Zedaph says reassuringly. “If anything, I’M the one who messed everything up. Can you forgive me, Hels…?”

Helsaph sits back on his heels, regarding Zedaph with wary eyes. “But… But how do I know you won’t abandon me again if I stop being useful?”

Zedaph anxiously clasps his hands together. “I know you won’t trust me again for a long time, and that’s… that’s completely valid. But I… I refuse to judge your worth based on how “useful” you are again. From now on, you’re my brother and I’ll stick by you, no matter what.”

“B… Brother…?” repeats Helsaph shakily. “You mean…?”

“You’re part of the ZIT family now,” Impulse chuckles, tousling Helsaph’s hair. “Double Zedaph.”

Helsaph stares at Impulse with wide eyes. “I… Why would you want me here after everything I did…?”

“Because Zed made some mistakes and he’s my friend so I want to help him fix them,” Impulse replies kindly. “Right, Tango?”

Tango nods back. “Absolutely. Plus, I mean, you can never have too much Zedaph, know what I mean?”

Sensing that Helsaph is about to cry again, Zedaph quickly steps in and says, “You know, Hels, you actually arrived at a great time. We could do with a hero right now. You remember Evil X?”

Helsaph nods, wiping his eyes with the back of his sleeve. “Very well.”

“They’re back on the server causing a bit of mischief, running a scheme that’s definitely a scam. The server could use a hero to keep an eye on them and make sure they don’t do anything evil.” Zedaph grins. “What do you think? You up to the challenge?”

“I…” Helsaph hesitates. “I’m out of practise.”

“Don’t you worry about that,” says Tango. “We’ll help ya.”

“Yeah, we’re gonna train you back up into the best superhero on the server,” Impulse adds happily.

Zedaph hands Helsaph the pink mask the latter dropped earlier. “Welcome back, Wormman,” he says softly.

After a moment, Helsaph takes the mask and puts it on.

And with this action, Helsaph’s road to recovery, surrounded by his brand new family, begins.

[drabbles-mc]

Homecoming

Juice Ortiz x F!Reader

Request by Anon: What if reader was pretty much best friends with Tara, as well as related to a Son, and was with her and Margaret when Salazar kidnapped them. Tries to fight them off initially, but get's shot in a non fatal place, and when Juice finds out - their secret relationship gets out. Open to interpretation, etc.

Warnings: language, mentions of blood/injuries, hospitals

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Did I get a little carried away with this? Perhaps. But I think it came out alright. Totally tweaked canon a little bit for my own self-indulgent needs lmao. Hope you enjoy!!

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“You really don’t have to come with us,” Tara reassured you as you descended the hospital steps with her, Margaret walking a few strides ahead to give you a false sense of privacy.

“I know. But you should have family there—not that Red’s not great,” you nodded towards Margaret who shook her head slightly at your comment.

“You can’t tell Jax, alright?”

The first comments that popped into your head weren’t the ones you should say. Truthfully you felt it deep in your gut that Tara was making the right decision on this, but you didn’t want to say that in the wrong way. The VP might’ve been your brother’s best friend, and your best friend’s partner, but you had never let those sentiments cloud how you viewed him. You gave yourself a moment as you nodded, “I know. I won’t.”

“Thank you.”

You climbed into the back seat of the car, allowing Tara to drive and Margaret to ride shotgun. You liked observing their whole dynamic, anyway—it was funny how quickly things changed. As you listened to the two of them talking in the front seat, you found yourself toying with the chain around your neck. Without thinking any better of it you lifted it from underneath your shirt and ran your finger over the ring that hung at the end of it.

Your eyes met Tara’s as she looked at you in the rearview mirror and you instantly clasped your hand over the ring, hurriedly tucking it back into your shirt. The look on her face let you know that there was going to be a conversation about it later, and you were already kicking yourself over it.

As you were about to speak up and try and bring up a new topic of conversation, someone ran into the back of the car. It didn’t feel like it was bad enough to do any real damage, but all three of you still got out to check both cars and make sure that the other driver was alright.

The young woman who got out of the car looked vaguely familiar, but you couldn’t quite place why. There was something about her, though. You hung back, letting Tara and Margaret do most of the talking. You saw that there was someone sitting in the passenger seat of the car, but they must’ve been fine if the woman talking to Tara didn’t make mention of them.

“Hey…” the woman’s voice shifted slightly as she looked Tara over, “You’re Jax Teller’s girl, aren’t you?”

Tara’s body visibly tensed and so did yours. Conversations that started like that never went well. She cleared her throat, “I…I’m…um, yea. Who…who are you?”

She nodded towards the passenger door of her car as he swung open, “I’m his girl.”

Salazar stepped out, gun pointed directly at Tara. Margaret screamed as she held her hands up and you cursed under your breath as you tried to figure out exactly what was happening here. “Up against the car!” he ordered, gesturing with his gun, “All three of you!”

By this point Luisa had taken out her own weapon and the two of them were searching the three of you. They did Tara and Margaret first, and you couldn’t hide the surprise on your face when you saw the ink that covered the hospital administrator’s back. It was certainly something that warranted a discussion when things weren’t falling apart anymore.

Luisa was patting you down, gun pressed between your shoulder blades, “Not many places for you to hide anything,” her snide remark about your outfit rolled off your shoulders—you had thicker skin than that.

“Then can you hurry the fuck up please?” you huffed, “Shit’s digging into my spine.” You could feel Tara’s and Margaret’s eyes on you even though you were looking up at the sky, begging you to not make the situation worse.

“Hey,” she pressed it harder into your skin, “You better watch it.”

You could tell by the feeling of her breath on your neck that she was leaning in close. Mumbling a few curse words under your breath, you threw your elbow backwards and cracked her in the nose, sending her stumbling back a few steps. She swore, spitting the blood out that had dripped into her mouth.

Salazar was too busy shoving Tara and Margaret into the car to see what had happened, all he heard was Luisa’s voice as she struggled with you, trying to prevent you from getting the gun from her. When you realized just how close your face was to hers, you leaned back and quickly brought your head forward, slamming into hers. The sound of your foreheads colliding was louder than you thought it would be, and the impact and the pain caused her to stumble backwards, dropping the gun in the process. You were reaching down to get it when you heard a gunshot go off. There was a sharp pain in your side, and when you looked down you saw blood starting to seep through the fabric of your tank top.

Luisa took advantage of the chaos of the moment to grab the gun back. She had it pointed directly at your head when Salazar grabbed her and pulled her back towards the car, “Leave her!” he snapped, “She’s done anyway.”

It all happened so quickly, and before you knew it they were peeling off with Margaret and Tara in the car. You were trying to focus on your breathing as you attempted to figure out what the fuck you were going to do next. You didn’t want Salazar to be right, but if you didn’t figure something out very soon, you were definitely going to be done.

You managed to pull yourself back to the car, blindly reaching around on the floor for your phone. You let out what you could of a sigh of relief when your fingers curled around the tiny burner flip phone.

Dialing one of the few numbers you knew by heart, you waited for him to pick up. After a few agonizingly long rings, you heard your father’s gruff voice on the other end of the line, “What’s going on?”

“I need you to come get me. Fast. And bring the fucking van,” you winced as you tried to put some kind of pressure on your wound.

“What happened? Where are you?”

“Just, get here. Please,” you rattled off your location before hanging up. You leaned back against the tire of the car and waited, hoping that Piney would get there fast.

Light-headed was an understatement as the van whipped up, Tig and Kozik immediately leaping out of the back of the van. Piney climbed out of the driver’s seat, and for the first time in a very long time you saw him looking worried.

“Well, don’t look at me like that,” you tried to laugh but you couldn’t quite swing it, “Makes me feel like I might be in some kind of trouble.”

“Jesus Christ,” Tig was carefully trying to lift you up to get you in the van, “What the fuck happened?”

“That doesn’t matter,” Piney snapped, shaking his head, “We need to get her to a hospital.”

“No!” you and Tig both responded in unison. You shook your head, “Hospital means cops.”

“No hospital means a morgue,” Kozik piped in, siding with Piney, “We gotta get you to a doctor,” he paused for a beat, “We’ll say it was a random drive-by. We’ll figure it out.”

Piney nodded in agreement, “We’ll get her to the hospital,” he turned to Kozik, “Take care of the car.”

He nodded, “On it.”

You didn’t have the strength to argue with them about it. You were leaning completely onto Tig as he tried to get you situated in the back of the van. You could hear him and Piney talking but none of it was really sinking in with you.

You didn’t remember passing out on the ride to the hospital, but you must have. The lights in your room were almost blinding as you came-to. With a groan you tried to shield your eyes as they opened.

“She’s awake,” your father’s gruff voice came from your bedside.

You turned and looked over at him, managing a smile, “Small miracles, huh?”

“You need anything?” when you shook your head, he switched gears completely, “What the hell happened?”

You went to try and reposition yourself so that you were sitting more upright, but it hurt too much. You resigned yourself to your current position as you started to explain what had happened. About halfway through your story Tig walked into the room, and when he heard who it had been you could practically see the blood boiling in his veins. He stepped back out of the room to call Kozik. You had no idea how they were going to handle the situation, but you knew that they would.

“Cops come by?”

He nodded towards the door, “Paperboy has been waiting out there since the call went out over the scanner.”

“Jesus Christ,” you shook your head, “Doesn’t that guy ever take a fucking vacation?”

Piney chuckled, “No,” he paused, “You alright here?”

You nodded, “Yea, yea. Fuck, I’ll be good. Go help them with Tara. I’m as safe here as I’ll ever be with the Deputy Chief out there.”

It got a tiny smile out of him, glad to see that you were feeling as alright as could be expected. He rose from his seat and pressed a kiss to your forehead, telling you to call for anything at all before walking out. You saw the look that he gave Hale as he walked by and you tried not to laugh, mostly because it hurt to do so.

“How’re you feeling?” he asked you as he entered the room.

“Like I got fucking shot,” you smiled at him, “How are you feeling, Deputy?”

“I’ll feel better when you tell me what happened,” he looked you over, “Your dad said it was a drive-by. Wrong place, wrong time.”

You nodded, “Sounds about right.”

He raised his eyebrows slightly, “Does it?”

“Mhm. I really, I really don’t know what to tell you, Dave,” you saw him cringe at the way you said his name like that, “I guess I’ve just got some shit luck.”

He sighed, knowing that you weren’t going to divulge anything to him unless you absolutely had to, “Well. If you change your mind, think of anything else, you know how to reach me.”

“I sure do,” you flashed him a smile, “Thanks, Officer.”

When the door shut behind him, you let out a quiet sigh. You looked beneath the thin fabric of your hospital gown to check out the bandages that were on your side and stomach. As you were looking, your doctor came in and started explaining everything to you. For the most part you listened, but your mind wandered as your fingers found their way back to the chain around your neck. Once they told you that you were going to be alright, that it was through-and-through and so far it didn’t look like you had anything extra to worry about, you tapped out of the conversation.

You felt useless as the days ticked by. Piney didn’t want to bother you with what was going on with the Tara situation, but luckily you knew that Tig had a soft spot for you and he kept you more up to date on everything. The club left for one week and everything started to fray at the seams. You kept your mouth shut about it—not reaching out to anyone that was in Belfast. You agreed with the three of them on that, that this was the last thing any of those men needed to be worrying about.

You hadn’t heard anything from anyone in a day or two and you were starting to go a little stir-crazy. Truthfully you didn’t know why you were still being kept in the hospital at all until Margaret walked in. It was impossible to hide your surprise, but despite the ordeal she’d been through, she had cleaned herself up for work well. You could see the fear and exhaustion in her eyes, though.

“You’re the one keeping me here in first class, Red?”

“You’re welcome for that.”

Neither of you really knew what to say. In hushed tones she told you about everything that had happened, about what the situation was like now. She explained to you that she may or may not have misplaced some paperwork to keep you in the hospital and safe until everything played itself out one way or another. You hadn’t expected that from her—for her to go to bat for you when she didn’t even know you. But you were thankful for it.

Meanwhile, the club was just getting back to the compound, baby Abel in tow. The joy of being home again was short-lived, however, when everyone got filled in on the news of what was going on. Juice tried desperately to keep his cool when he found out what had happened to you, not wanting to throw another wrench into everything that was going on, but it wasn’t easy. They all immediately took off in separate directions to try and handle whatever part of the mess that they could.

Opie was walking towards the row of bikes as he spoke to Jax, “I’m gonna head to the hospital, make sure she hasn’t started holding any nurses or doctors hostage,” he chuckled, only able to joke because he knew that you were going to be alright, “I’ll catch up with you after.”

Jax nodded as he clipped his helmet on, “Sounds good.”

“I’ll go with you,” Juice piped up as he followed Opie. Both the men looked at Juice, a little confused but neither of them argued with him about it. He saw their expressions though and fought to cover for himself, “I can stay with her when you catch up with Jax—makes sure everything’s alright.”

Opie shrugged, “Fine by me.”

He and Juice both headed out of the compound, but once their tires hit the road, Juice took off like a bat out of hell. Almost instantly he left Opie in the dust, and Opie didn’t fight to try and keep up. They’d both make it there one way or another.

Juice practically launched himself off of his bike when he parked at the hospital. He quickly wound his way through the halls until he found your room. You were lying in bed with the TV on, but he could tell that you weren’t really paying any attention to it.

You heard footsteps stop in your doorway and looked over. Your entire face brightened up when you saw him. He looked at you for a moment, and you could see that there were a million thoughts and emotions running through his mind as he took in the sight of you in the hospital bed, toying with his ring.

“Welcome home,” you laughed.

The sound of your voice snapped him out of his own head and he all but ran over to your bedside. He hugged you, trying his hardest to be gentle and not hurt you. he pressed your head against his chest and kissed the top of your head.

“Are you okay?” his voice was soft.

You nodded, pulling back from him so you could really look at him, “I’m alright. Could’ve been gone a couple days ago but Tara’s friend is keeping me in hospital witpro,” you chuckled.

“I’m so sorry,” he cupped your face in his hands, “I should’ve been here.”

You shook your head, “Don’t do that to yourself. I’m fine. Everything is gonna be fine.”

He traced his thumb along your face before leaning in and kissing you on the lips. You felt yourself smiling as you leaned into him, your hand coming to rest on the outside of his arm. Even though it’d only been about a week, the way he kissed you made it feel like he had been gone for months.

“Oh, you gotta be kidding me,” Opie leaned against the doorframe.

Juice pulled his lips off of yours, almost making himself stumble backwards a few steps to try to cover for the two of you. You laughed, knowing that there was no point in trying to lie about it now.

“I was coming to see if you’re alright,” Opie chuckled as he walked to the other side of your bed, “But honestly this,” he gestured to you and Juice, “is more concerning than the bullet wound.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes, “I’m fine on both counts, thanks for asking.”

He chuckled before bending down to kiss your forehead, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you looked back and forth between him and Juice, trying to figure out what was going to happen next.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Opie looked at him, “Once she’s out of the hospital bed, she’s the one you need to worry about. Not me.”

Juice nodded, not fooled at all by the calm way that Opie was handling the situation. He knew that underneath the cool demeanor Opie was more than ready to snap and wring Juice by the neck if you ever gave a reason for him to do so.

“Got it,” Juice shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, unsure of what else to do.

Opie raised his eyebrows slightly, “Can I leave you in charge here, then?”

He nodded, “Yea, yea of course.”

“Don’t let her get shot again,” Opie leaned down and kissed the top of your head once more before leaving and going to catch up with Jax.

Juice let out a relieved laugh, “I thought that was gonna be way worse.”

You smiled and shook your head, “It’s not him you gotta worry about. Just wait ‘til Piney finds out.” Juice’s face paled at the thought of it and you couldn’t help but to laugh. You patted the space on the bed next to you, “Come lay with me.”

He was never good at saying no to you. With a quiet laugh he clumsily climbed into the bed beside you, letting you settle against his chest as he looped his arm around your shoulders. He kissed your temple, closing his eyes for a moment to just enjoy being with you again.

He saw the outline of your bandage through the thin fabric of the hospital gown, “Does it hurt?”

You looked at him and chuckled, “Did it hurt when you got stabbed?”

He laughed, shaking his head, “Alright, alright. Stupid question, I get it.”

You rested your palm against his chest, soaking up the feeling of his heartbeat, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

“Sorry I didn’t have a better welcome home party planned for you,” you smiled.

He shook his head with a small grin as he kissed your forehead, “We’ll party plenty when you get out of here.”

“Can’t wait,” you looked up at him, “Gotta show off my battle scars.”

He rolled his eyes, “You’re ridiculous.”

You playfully nudged him, “You love it.”

He looked at his ring hanging around your neck, his gaze slowly trailing up to meet your eyes, “Yea, I do.”

[diofasolia]

{Always}

{Shattered! Dream x Reader}

Shattered! Dream by @shattereddreamsau

Writings by me

Today (8/7) is Shattered! Dream's birthday and I decided to post a writing I did last year—which is also the reason why I eventually join in the tumblr

Because back when I wrote this story, I found Dark Cream comic, which made by amazing @zu-is-here

Her creations give me the inspiration for the writing

The story is long (it has like 2000 words in it) and may be a bit cheesy, but I'll be happy to know if you read the whole thing (◡ ω ◡)

******

Before the story start, I want to ask you a question.

   Do you believe that the worst person can change?

   Oh! How awkward, sorry, I ask the wrong question.

   What I meant to ask is—

   Do you believe that the best person, the kindest person in the world can change?

   Maybe…all it needs is a tiny push?

   The harsh whipping hits in my abdomen again. I kneel on the ground, thinking how deep the scar might be from that blow.

   "What're you doing!? Look at your king when I'm talking to you! Such a piece of useless trash!!"

   "I apologized, My Lord."

   Raising my bruised neck, I gaze at the former guardian of positivity. Those eyes that used to hold the tenderness, now only fill up with hatred.

   "Where're those fricking basters!? I told you to track down my brother and other Sanses!"

   "I'm sorry, My Lord. They escaped. I can't find where their location is–"

   Not even waiting for my sentence finished, another powerful punch land on my face. I watch as a tooth fall out of my mouth. Blood dripping down my chin.

   "Worthless! Can't even do a little task like that!"

   Multiple kicks and insults throw at me. The numb feeling slowly occurs in my torso as I curling up into a ball.

   Closing my eyes, the memories from the past arises in my mind, bringing me back to the day that I seal my fate.

   "Dream? Earth to Dream!"

   "(Y/N)? What's wrong, love?"

   "What's wrong? I've called your name for five times! But you didn't answer to me."

   Dream scratches the back of his skull, looking a bit embarrassed.

   "Is that so? I'm sorry, (Y/N)! It won't happen again, I swear!"

   I cuddle Dream close, letting out a giggle.

   "It's fine! I don't really mind it. But Dream, you tend to space out recently. Is there something on your mind? You can tell me everything, you know that, right?"

   Giving me a kiss on the cheek, Dream smiles gently. He assures me that there's nothing to worry about. It’s just the task of guardian makes him a little exhausted.

   "Well, if that's the case, go on and get some rest! I will inform you if something was up."

   "Okay! Thanks, (Y/N), I'm glad I have you by my side."

   "Me too, my dreams and hopes."

   It's been quiet in Dream's room. He must be very tired. I knock on his bedroom door, telling him to wake up.

   "Dream, I know you're tired. But you still need to eat."

   "Dream? Are you awake yet?"

   There's no answer.

   Guess I’ll have to get into his room.

   Yet no one is there, only an opening portal hanging in the air.

   A portal leads to Dream's corrupted universe.

   "I'll show you, brother. I know what you're feeling…I know what you're going through…"

   "No! Dream, stop!! You don't know what you're doing!!"

    Two vague voices shouting in the distance. I begin to run like my life is in danger.

    What the heck is going on here?

    What is this dreadful feeling?!

   I'm too slow.

    The half bitten black apple lay on the ground. I watch in horror as the small tendrils creeping out Dream's eye sockets. His painful screech rings in my ears.

   "Dream!!!"

    I reach out to him, hoping that I can comfort Dream in my arms. The positive energy…they gotta do something, right?

   "What…? Nightmare! Let go of me!! I need to…to get Dream!!"

   "No! You can't get near him now, (Y/N)! You'll…you'll get hurt!"

    I thrash in Nightmare's hold, screaming at the top of my lungs.

   "Dream!! No! Dream!!!"

   "What's wrong, love?"

   My teary eyes stare up, it's…Dream's voice.

   But it sends an unknown coldness down my spine.

   "Ahh, you're crying! Good, keep doing that."

   A sadistic grin spreads on Dream's face.

   "I love it."

   Nightmare is already sobbing, begging for his beloved brother to come back. I walk step by step to Dream, putting on the best smile I can muster.

   "My love…Dream…please, come back to me…! I love you. I know you're strong enough to resist those negative feelings…"

   Dream cackles loudly. The tentacles wrap tightly around my neck, pulling me closer to him.

   "Go back? To my weak self? (Y/N), when did you become stupid? Why would I do that?"

   "I've already past the point of no return."

   A bucket of freezing water splashes on me. I must have passed out during the abusing session.

   "Wake up."

   "Get clean up, we're leaving."

   I pick up my sore body, stumbling across the lonely hall that me and Dream live in. There's no one here except the two of us.

   "Make a choice, (Y/N). Will you join me? Or will you prefer to disobey me like my coward brother?"

   "I'll go with you."

   I want to weep, yet I can’t even shed a single tear. I shouldn't be upset. After all, it's me who decided to follow my corrupted lover.

   Filling up the bathtub, I submerge myself in the steamy water.

   "Why, (Y/N)!? Why are you side with him!? Open your eyes! Dream doesn't love you anymore. He's just using you!"

    "It doesn't matter, Nightmare."

   "Great job, (Y/N)! You make this AU full of despair and miseries! I always know you're my favorite soldier!"

   "It's my pleasure to serve you, my lord."

   I scrub my blood-stained skin, the wounds sting because of the soapy water. Some of the old gash reopened, making me yell in frustration.

   "We can save Dream! Don't lose any hope, (Y/N)!"

   "How? There are barely things we can do. It's over, Nightmare. Look at yourself! You transfer back because Dream shattered! How are you gonna turn him back? By let someone else eats a black apple again?!"

   The white dirty bandages wrap around my mess up torso. Why am I even bother treating my injures? They sure are going to reopen soon anyway.

   "No matter what you say to me, I won't change the path I've chosen, Nightmare."

   "I've already gone far enough."

   "I don't understand…he's hurting you, (Y/N). Are you still…in love with my brother?"

   I hate it so much.

   The smell won't disappear no matter how many times I wash it over and over.

   I hate it.

   My hair smells like those disgusting goop on Dream.

   Why can't I get rid of this sickening stink!?!

   Throwing the bottles at random direction, I tug my hair till I scream out.

   "What's with all that noises in there!? You better finish your business soon, I'm losing my patience!"

   I hate it.

   "I deeply apologize for making you wait for such a long time, my lord."

   I wish I can understand your pain sooner.

   "Whatever, time to leave."

   I'm sorry I couldn't save you.

   "My lord, where are we going, may I ask?"

   Dream's left eye glows in excitement.

   "I find out where those sneaky scums are hiding."

   With a wave of hand, Dream opens the portal leads to an unknown empty place.

   No one is left out.

   Nightmare, Ink, Blue, everyone's here.

   "And I'm going to give them a pleasant encounter."

   But today is a little different.

   Then all hell breaks out.

   Nightmare's starting to transform. The dark gooey substance covering up his body gradually.

   The same routine as usual. Nightmare pleads Dream to stop his actions while the former guardian of positivity just laugh it off, a bit talks here and there.

   "Miss me, dear brother?"

    The crazy laughter of Dream rings in the air.

   "Yes! Finally, things are getting interesting!"

   While Dream focusing on battling with Nightmare, I have to handle the two other skeletons.

   "I know deep down you don't want to fight us, (Y/N)! Let's just drop our weapons, okay?"

   Ink creates a bunch of arrows, ready to launch them at Dream. I block his charge immediately, slashing Ink's arm with my sword.

   My silence is always my only answer.

   "No one's going to get near Dream."

   I continue to attack Blue. We've already been through this conversation many times.

   "How…how's this possible?!"

   Dream can only defense himself from Nightmare as the latter one keeps on firing attacks. It looks like Nightmare gets more advantage of the battle.

   "Seems like you can't control your tentacles very well yet, little bro."

    Nightmare mocks, resulting Dream to lose his temper. He strikes at Nightmare blindly, only to receive a powerful blow in the guts.

   "Dream!!"

   I rush to Dream, who’s looking more exhausted than usual. From the way how he’s panting heavily, I know he's already losing too much strength to fight.

   "Get away from me! I don't need your help!!"

   The attack is sloppy but I didn't dodge it. Dream can beat me all he wants after I get him to safety.

   Even if it means I can possibly die.

   "My lord, I apologize, but we have to move to another universe again."

   Dream growls at me.

   "It's you who are dragging me down!!"

   They're still following us.

   I'm whacking to the ground in a flash. A heavy boot stamps on my ribs harshly.

   The nasty cracking sound and my piercing shirek fills in the air.

   "You're no longer useful to me."

    I watch as Dream disappears in a portal. He doesn't even spare a glance at me. Leaving me bleeding and slowly dying on the ground.

   "I've told you."

    Nightmare's lurking shadow towers above me.

   "Oh no, Ink! We must save (Y/N)! She's…!"

     Ink put a hand on Blue's shoulder, shaking his head solemnly.

   "We can't, Blue. Remember, our priority is to capture Dream."

   "Please, Night…"

     I find myself pleading to Nightmare.

   "Don't…kill Dream…"

   "You and I both know that's an empty promise, (Y/N)."

   Three skeletons begins to move towards the portal that opens by Ink. Before they leave, Nightmare whispers in a quiet voice but loud enough for me to catch.

   "…he's in Dreamtale."

   How much will you sacrifice for protecting your fallen love?

   "You really are dumb. You know that?"

   "Or you're just enjoy me breaking you apart bit by bit?"

   "Don't you scare of your own nightmares?"

   "I deserve it."

   "I'm already living with it."

   "You will always be my fading dreams."

   "It's my own redemption."

   "Surrender now, Dream. Then we can put an end to this whole mess."

   My time is running out.

    "Heh, I thought you know me well, dear brother. You should get the answer by yourself now."

   "…goodbye, my poor little brother.

   I pray to you, God. Let me see him one last time.

   I can't save him the last time.

    It's always a miracle how accurate the portal can lead to.

   "(Y…Y/N)?"

   This time, I'm going to save Dream.

   There's no pain anymore.

   "…at least…you……say my…name……one…last……time…"

   Crimson blood drips down my penetrated torso. I think I see Dream's crying. But that might be just my own tears.

   Forgive me, Dream.

   My collapsing body falls forward, landing on the soft grass surface before me.

(3rd pov)

   "Nightmare, I need your assistance."

   "I thought we're enemies now."

    "There's a method I want to try. It might succeed to bring Dream back."

   "Well, I'm here to listen."

   "She's just a tool."

   "Nothing else."

    "Because I know him well. The extreme emotion is the only possible way to get things right again."

   Dream mutters to himself like a broken recorder. Staring the wrecking body of yours, his non-existent heart begins to hurt.

    "I refuse! That's too dangerous! You surely will be dead in this terrible plan! Besides, how can you so sure he'll behave like you predict!?"

    "It's worth it. I'm doing this for the whole alternate universes, and him."

    "But…you…"

    "Wake up! I demand you to wake up now! (Y/N)!!"

    "It's not…worth for your own life."

    "Don't pity me. Pity for the one who can't help himself in his own nightmare."

    "Wake up."

   "Don't leave me…alone, (Y/N)…please…my love…"

   Ahh, it must be the time when he transfers into this horrible creature.

   Nightmare, who’s now in his uncorrupted form, widening his eyes.

   "…congratulations, (Y/N). Your suicidal plan…works."

   Dream doesn't recall when’s the last time he breaks down.

    No one dare to speak a word, except Dream drowning in his own pitiful cries.

     "Always."

     "I don't understand…he's hurting you, (Y/N). Are you still…in love with my brother?"

   You look at Nightmare with a smile, replying to him like it's the only correct answer in your mind.

[minor-solemnity]

Curiosity pt.6

“Are you implying that I’m not good enough to blackmail?” Which well, that maybe isn’t what you should be annoyed by.

A month passes. You don’t talk in class, just keep your head bowed low, eyes fixed firmly on the ground. You ignore Tom in the hallways and in the lessons you share. You suppose that you should probably revert to calling him Riddle, but referring to a man you’ve had sex with by their last name, even in the comfort of your own head, makes you feel dirty.  

He tries to talk to you twice. He doesn’t try a third time.

You don’t tell Marie or Stephanie what’s transpired between you and Tom and eventually, they stop asking. You’re content to let them believe that whatever courtship or relationship they thought had been budding between the two of you had died. It’s easier to pretend that you’re just sad that you’ve missed your chance with Hogwarts’ most sought after bachelor. The truth is so much more complicated. 

The last of the bitter Scottish winter gives way into Spring and with it comes blue skies, crisp winds, and luscious greenery. Stephanie’s attention is fixed firmly on the final quidditch matches of the school year and Marie begins her yearly fretting over exams. You’re left in blessed peace to ruminate on and stew in your own misery. 

It’s far too early on a Saturday for you to be up, but the Great Hall is always empty until at least nine on the weekends and you’ve taken to avoiding large crowds lest you accidentally run into him. As expected, you’re alone save for the ghosts this morning. You’re stirring honey into your tea when a shadow falls over you. You don’t look up. The shadow coughs politely. You glower at your tea. The shadow sighs and there are footsteps and the sound of someone taking a seat opposite you. When you finally look up, Tom is watching you intently. Merlin, it’s so frustratingly easy to get distracted looking at him. The first thing you notice (and you hate that you do) is that he looks somewhat tense. His expression is a mask of polite indifference and his hands rest casually on the table in front of him but there is a tautness to his posture, as though he’s steeling himself for a fight. 

You think that that should please you. At one point, it definitely would have done, but right now you’re still too raw from the events of a month ago to feel anything other than resigned fatigue at his appearance. “You’ve been ignoring me.” He says, and though his tone is placid you can detect a hint of something hard lacing his consonants. 

“What good observational skills you have. Though that’s hardly a surprise, seeing as I’ve been on the receiving end of your interest for months at this point.” The anger at your own stupidity and his manipulation rears its head once more and you’re somewhat taken aback by how much venom has crept into your voice.

“Perhaps, if you’d let me explain-” 

“No.” You cut him off, gathering your things and shoving them into your bag with more force than is strictly necessary. “No, I will not let you explain. I think you made yourself perfectly clear the last time. You have what you want, your curiosity is sated. You have your own blackmail material on me, should you ever feel the need to use it, and all it took was-” You can’t finish the sentence. All it took was a little flattery and his clever tongue touching and playing with you until you’d… Really, it had taken nothing at all. “I don’t know what else you could possibly need to explain to me. I understand what I am to you and what this entire thing was about. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you just leave me alone.” You don’t hang around to see understanding dawn on Tom’s face, nor do you hang around to see resolve settle firmly on his shoulders.

Fifteen minutes later you’re sat with your arms wrapped tightly around your knees underneath a yew tree by the lake, your bag thrown haphazardly a few feet away. You stare at the lake and determinedly blink back the tears that are threatening to spill down your cheeks. A horrible mix of embarrassment and anger is bubbling in your stomach and your hands shake as you reach down and tug blindly at strands of grass as if they are what your ire is directed at. Merlin, you’ve been stupid. Incredibly, horrendously stupid. You’d known that Riddle was bad news. You hadn’t trusted him from the moment he’d smiled down at you that evening in the dining hall. Almost every meeting between the both of you since had been a constant push and pull, neither of you willing to back down or give way… And now…

Now he has the information that he wanted and the game is up. You’ve lost. And all because somewhere along the line you had forgotten exactly why it was that he’d been interested in you in the first place. You’d let your imagination get the best of you and for a moment you’d let yourself believe that it wasn’t about Mr Larkins anymore. That he was there because of you. Just you and not the secrets that you had tried so hard to keep.

Merlin, what was he going to do with you now that he knew. Blackmailing a teacher (and you have to admit to yourself now that that was exactly what you had been doing) was a serious offence. Enough to get you expelled for sure. Muggles went to prison for blackmail, didn’t they? Would you be sent the Wizengamot? Or would Tom just hold it over your head for eternity? Surely not. He had no use for you now, after all; you can’t keep kidding yourself that he liked or wanted you. You can’t keep kidding yourself that that was part of why this was so painful. 

Beyond the fear you feel for your future, rejection is a bitter pill lodged in the back of your throat. 

“You might appreciate it if I left you alone, but I’d appreciate it if you stopped running away from me.” Tom’s voice is conversational, cheerful almost. You let out a strangled scream of annoyance. He hums a soft little laugh in response. He settles himself down beside you, long legs stretching out in from him, crossed over at the ankle. You notice he’s holding the folder. “You honestly think I’d blackmail you?” He asks, still in that conversational toned and you feel your hackles rise.

“Are you implying that I’m not good enough to blackmail?” Which well, that maybe isn’t what you should be annoyed by.

“You seem intent on misunderstanding everything I have to say, I see.” He says and, at last, something approaching annoyance enters his voice. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see that he’s frowning slightly. As in the Great Hall, his posture suggests he’s at ease, he’s taken his tie off and the top two buttons of his shirt are undone. But something is lurking beneath his relaxed exterior that suggests he’s nervous. “I have no intention of blackmailing you. At first, perhaps, but not any longer. And…” You drop the pretence of not looking at him entirely and turn full to face him. He doesn’t look at you and you get the impression that whatever he’s trying to say does not come easily. “I apologise if that’s the impression I gave you.”

Your eyes widen in surprise at the apology, which whilst stilted, appears genuine. Then, almost immediately after narrow in suspicion and indignation. “What other impression could you possibly have given me? Apart from, maybe, toying with me for your own amusement.” You ask acidly.

His jaw clenches and you notice dimly that he’s making hardly any effort to hide his emotions. He’s almost an open book. Which is… strange. You’re reminded of all the times that Tom’s treatment of you has left you feeling confused. Confused because he doesn’t act the same way around you as he does with the rest of your peers. He’ll put on a facade of politeness, sometimes, but it usually unravels within minutes. You’ve watched him charm and flatter the worst of your professors, that small careful smile never faltering until they’re putty in his hands.

He’s tried to intimidate, taunt, and seduce you but he’s never tried to charm you. The realisation hits you harder than you’d like. But so what that Tom doesn’t seem to think you’re worth the effort? Does it matter that he drops his perfect little persona around you? Yes, the quiet, treacherously hopeful voice in your mind whispers, yes it matters. Of course, it matters.

“That we were having fun, perhaps?” He says at last and he looks pained just saying it. As though telling you that some part of him had enjoyed your company and had assumed that you enjoyed his is physically uncomfortable to admit. Maybe it is. “That I believed you and I had some level of understanding regarding our relationship?” 

You ask incredulously, “Has this been your way of flirting with me, Tom?” At the sound of his name on your lips, he turns to face you and you can practically see him come undone. His throat constricts around a swallow and you can’t stop yourself from tracing the column of his neck to where his collarbones, surprisingly delicate and sharp protrude from the collar of his open shirt with your eyes. He follows your gaze intently. “You never tried to charm me.” You murmur, finally bring your gaze to meet his.

“I’ve only ever been honest with you,” He replies, his voice equally soft. An admission that his persona is mostly a lie, used to trick and manipulate everyone else. Maybe that should put you off, make you turn away from him for good. It doesn’t. “You can’t blame me for wanting to know you when the few things I did know were so interesting. You can’t blame me for liking you more when I found out the rest.” It’s strange, knowing that the parts of you that usually stop people from liking or trusting you are what draws him to you. Then again, maybe it isn’t strange at all. You’re remarkably similar in so many ways, after all. “I thought, perhaps, that you regretted it.” Regretted me, is what he means. Is what he won’t say. Is what you hear nonetheless. 

You’ll need to talk more later; you need to know what he intends to do with the knowledge of your blackmailing schemes but later. Right now… You lick your lower lip and you don’t miss the way he tracks the movement. “I don’t. Regret it.” He nods once, a short decisive shake of his head. You’ve made up your mind. “You should kiss me now.” And he does. He shifts and suddenly you’re being dragged to his side, one large hand curving around your waist and another cupping your jaw, his fingers tangling in your hair. 

You feel like maybe, you’ve just won the best kind of game there is.

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6)

[angsty-omi]

the friend zone.

levi ackerman x reader

no proofread— i wrote this at 4am

tw: mentions of blood, cursing, and levi being a fucking dick.

out of all the comrades in the survey corps, levi only fancied a few amount. hange, erwin, and you. you couldn’t understand why, it wasn’t like you were any special. honestly if you didn’t dye your hair pink using a mixture of berries and flour, he wouldn’t have even noticed.

it all started when everyone was in an ordered formation, while levi eyed down every single newbie. not necessarily saying anything, just staring into their soul. until, you caught his eye, and immediately he skipped over everyone else to face you. the people before you in line sighed with relief. maybe he was here to compliment my hair or critique my stance. it was none of that. in fact, he blew your knees so you’d fall forward. under your ragged pants, you could feel the skin on your knee starting to bleed. you looked up at him with shock, and he grabbed the back of your hair putting you much closer to his face. you couldn’t help but admire his tired eyes, or his wrinkles from furrowing his eyebrows. aside from that, he’s actually quite handsome. his voice interrupts your thoughts.

“scrub this shit off or else i will feed you to them” levi scolded and shoved your head onto the ground.

them as in the titans? you feared. as you looked over the other commanders, they inadvertently looked away from the two of you. you politely complied, and hoped he and the others ignored the tears running down your face. once you got to your quarters, you went straight to the shower. the color was slowly but surely getting off, showing your brown hair underneath. it’s been a while since you’ve seen your normal hair color. back in your village, you were known as the one with the artsy look, which was basically a polite way of saying the weird one. the shower head was also burning your fresh wounds from that morning and then some. you couldn’t help but think about your experience with levi and how he a complete dick he was. you swore to never get close to him nor acknowledge his presence unless required.

so how did you get here? leaning back on his chair with your feet on the table, waiting for him to come back from training the new fleet. shortly after, your not-so-fun first encounter, levi warmed up to you through back and forth banter and snarky comebacks. you’ve learned his lingo, when he says “i hate you,” it means the opposite— to the extent of “you’re okay.” if he says, “brat,” then he actually likes you. it’s the people he doesn’t remember the names of that should be scared of him. you read him like a book and vice versa.

he knew you, a bit too well. over the past few months, he could tell that you’ve started to like him afar from just friends. while he loved you as a comrade, his heart did not have the capacity to have an actual lover. so, he’s been hinting for you to not confess. scared is a term he never uses, but this was one of the few that did. levi was never scared of titans, literal human-eating monsters, rather, he was scared of you confessing your feelings for him. as the meticulous man that he his, he anticipated that today was the day that you’d express your feelings. how? over the past week, you’ve been trying to pry any sort of response for your unrequited feelings. while you thought you were slick, levi knew. that’s why he stalled the new members by running strenuous amounts of laps, because once he came back, you’d do it.

levi couldn’t hide from you any longer. with his hand on the knob, it slowly turned. there you were, with a bright smile on your face greeting him. it warmed his heart, platonically. your heart, however, was beating a million times faster once you saw him. you understood rejection was a high possibility, but you were at your limit.

“levi?” you fretted.

he nodded in response.

“you should sit down,”

levi took in a deep breath, knowing that this was the talk.

“i think i’m in love with you,” your eyes glossed. talking about your feelings always made you cry.

silence was your answer. even though, you knew this was a high chance, damnit did it hurt. you’ve been wounded by titans, and yet, this hurt the most. seeing levi’s face conflicted, trying to find the words to say to kindly reject you.

“y/n, listen you’re great. i love how you make me smile, your dumb jokes, snarky comments, and shitty roasts. but, i’m not in love with you, nor do i think i will ever.” he expressed, not looking at you in the eye. thinking, you were about to breakdown and cry, he was surprised to you see a stoic face.

“good, because i have other news.” you sighed, with a stressed out hand rubbing your temple.

news, what other news? what has she been keeping from me? levi wondered.

“my parents have found me a husband. at first, i completely shut it down. but then, starting to think of it, it would be nice to just leave and live a normal life. i was truly, truly, considering it but my love for you had to be addressed.”

“and i guess, since we’ve cleared that road... i’m leaving levi,” tears started dripping down your cheeks. looking up at levi, he had the same monotonous face. you couldn’t read what he was thinking.

“say something please” you begged.

“get out.”

“what?”

“i said get out.”

“what? why? you don’t even want to talk about this?”

“what is there to talk about? you’re leaving for some comfy lifestyle and ignoring reality. y/n we are literally dying every day. no one has the opportunity of being able to just leave. and yet, here you are leaving. you’re such a fucking pussy, i can’t believe i ever let you get this close. i was right when i first met you, you’re just some privileged girl who wanted to see a change of scenery.”

the love of your life just ended your whole career. but what was more upsetting? was that he was right. you were afraid. seeing all your friends dying was detrimental to your mental health and you saw this as a way to escape.

“you’re right, i am scared. of everything. but levi think to yourself why have i stuck out this long? why have i allowed myself to continue to serve after seeing all my comrades being ate up like chicken wings? because of you. i’m so fucking in love with you that i could handle all that. but if i don’t even have you what do i have left?” you sobbed.

“you still have me! just not that way and why does it have to be?”

“because seeing you so touchy with petra hurts. it fucking hurts seeing the man you love fall in with others!”

“seriously levi, tell me to my face that you don’t like her.”

again with the silence. something so loud, but so quiet.

you angrily slammed the door closed. your five year friendship, gone just like that. you leaned your back against the wooden door, slowly sliding down not feeling your legs. your sobs were loud, apparent that levi could hear it from the other side. if he could, he would. as soon as you felt your legs, you left.

once you got to your quarters, you grabbed your suitcase trying to pack as many things blindly. only ten minutes in, and you heard a knock at your door.

“leave me alone, i understood your message completely and now am leaving.” you screamed, knowing exactly who it was. the door slammed open with heavy pressure.

“what do you want levi,” you cried.

you felt arms wrap around your back with a head nestled into your neck.

“i think i’m in love with you too.” he whispered so quiet, that if you weren’t listening you’d miss it.

“you’re just saying that,”

“no i mean it. selfish enough, the thought of you being happy with someone other than me physically hurts my heart.”

now you’re silent.

“from the day i first landed my eyes on your ugly pink hair, to now you always had my attention one way or another. but it’s like, if i’ve accepted these feelings it’ll hurt even more if you die. i buried it down. down so far that on the surface it felt platonic. but your dumbass dug it back up.”

you swiftly turned around and pressed your lips against his. his eyes shocked at first, but then slowly melting into your lips. both desperate to show the other how much they mean to one another.

as you slowly pulled away, he instinctively moved forward which made you laugh.

“does this mean we’re something?” you gleamed.

“y/n” he said heavily.

your face dropped once again.

“you’re fucking ridiculous. are you serious levi?! i’m not going to wait for you forever. god knows how long i’ll live, and i won’t be dragged around like a little puppy.” you scolded, furious at yourself for thinking he changed.

you continued to rummage through your clothes and decided that it was enough.

“goodbye levi, i hope when you figure all your shit out you’ll finally be happy. whether it’s with yourself or with petra, but it sure as hell ain’t me.” you tipped your head at him, tears still blinding your eyesight.

if you had looked behind you, you would’ve saw levi crying. it wasn’t dramatic— no, more like tears were slipping that he himself didn’t even notice. this was the life he chose, and he knew he couldn’t get close with anyone. his young self never thought he would’ve found someone to truly care about. and if it meant letting his soulmate go, then so be it.

[littlestarofthewest]

Title: Unexpected Bargain | Word Count: 4249 | Rating: Explicit (18+!!!)

Pairing: Arthur x chubby female reader | Tags: modern AU

You're pulling up your jeans, wiggling around until they sit high enough to stay where they're supposed to. Then you raid your closet for a shirt, something that doesn't scream hobo but is still comfortable enough. You're going clothes shopping with Tilly, a feat that might take forever, considering that most shops don't have customers with your full figure in mind. It's better to be prepared for anything.

There's a sharp knock on the door, and you hurry to open it, shirt in hand.

"Hey, what do you think-?" you start, sure to have Tilly in front of you. Instead, it's the one person that you most definitely don't want to show your oldest, ugliest bra. "Arthur?!"

"Morning," Arthur says with a smile, the one word enough to have your stomach do a little flip.

Without thinking, you shut the door in his face and put on your shirt in record time before you open it again.

"Um, sorry about that," you mumble, hoping that you don't sound as out of breath as you feel. "I thought you were Tilly."

"Sorry to disappoint."

"Oh no, it's not that. I've just been waiting for her."

You feel awful, but Arthur smiles. "I know, that's actually why I'm here. Tilly sent me. Coffee?"

Arthur holds a cup out to you, and you take it without thinking, still confused. "Why would Tilly send you?"

"Seems like Hosea's sick, so she takes care of him and the store, but she didn't want to keep you hanging," Arthur explains. "So, I'm here, ready to drive you wherever you want to go."

"Oh, that's really not necessary; I can wait for another time."

Arthur shakes his head and puts his hand on his hip for a bad Tilly impression. 

"You don't let that girl go home before she has at least one new dress," he says in a higher-pitched voice before falling back into his deep register. "I'm afraid that's not negotiable." 

The idea of spending time with Arthur already knocks the wind out of you, but clothes shopping of all things is not what you ever imagined doing with him. It's bad enough when you whine in front of Tilly when you can't get the buttons of some jeans closed, or a top makes you look like a roll roast. You definitely don't look your best while trying on clothes.

"Let me get ready then," you say, unable to think of a way to refuse Arthur. After all, Tilly would have both your heads.

You put on some comfortable shoes and grab your bag before heading to Arthur's car with him. He opens the door for you, and you have to hold in a sigh. If Arthur plans on being a perfect gentleman the whole day, you're going to lose your mind.

When Arthur gets in the driver's seat, you finally take a sip from your coffee, unable to hold in a satisfied moan.

"Good?" Arthur asks, and you nod.

"Perfect."

"Great," Arthur says with one of his glorious smiles. "Then I remembered it right."

You take another sip, or otherwise, you might ask him to marry you right there.

-------

As per Tilly's orders, Arthur drives you to an outlet store a few miles out of town. They have a great range of styles and sizes, and while you might have to do a little digging, you have a good chance of actually finding something nice.

Inside, you're not quite sure where to start, especially with Arthur in tow, but he has an idea.

"Give me your bag then," he says, holding out his hand.

"What?"

"That's what I do, right? Hold your bag while you look around?"

You can't help but laugh. "Going right for the stereotype, huh?"

"I'm just not much help otherwise," Arthur says, pointing to himself. "I dress, so I don't get arrested."

You roll your eyes but hand Arthur your bag, trying very hard not to think about him running around naked when he's at home. 

After a deep breath, you decide to just embrace the situation and work your way through the store like you would with Tilly. Arthur looks around but always stays near you, and accurate to the stereotype, you soon hand him some clothes to carry for you as well. 

In the end, you do as Tilly wanted and look for a dress. You actually quite like wearing one, but it's always hard to find something fitting. Often, it's either too tight in some spots or hangs loose as if you threw on some garbage bags. 

While you go through the selection without much enthusiasm, a saleswoman comes over to you. 

"Hello, I'm Martha," she says with a warm grandmother's smile, "any chance I can help you with something?"

"Oh, I'm just looking around, thank you."

"Of course," she says, her smile not wavering one bit. "Let me just remind you that we have an in-house tailor now, so if you find something nice, we alter it for you for a minimal extra fee."

"Oh, that's great, thank you."

"I'll be right over there; just let me know if you need anything."

"Sure, thank you," you repeat, and Martha goes back to sorting out clothes, leaving you to stare at the dress in your hand.

You found two more like it that aren't bad but probably wouldn't fit you that well. If you could get them altered, they might just look decent. After adding them to your pile, you look for Arthur. He's killing time by petting a few fur coats, and when he looks up, you wave him over to head for the changing rooms. 

You don't look forward to this part, but there's no way you can buy anything before trying it on. Arthur sits down next to a big mirror, looking out of place with your bag on his lap.

"Are you sure you want to wait here?" you ask. "This could take a while."

"I'm good," Arthur says, stretching his legs and leaning against the wall. You wouldn't put it past him to take a nap right there. You've seen him do it in various locations.

"Alright," you say, bracing yourself for what's to come.

The first two jeans you try on are already a bust, so you hopelessly change over to a skirt. It's not right out ugly, so you top it off with three different shirts before an annoyed grunt breaks out of you.

"Everything alright in there?" Arthur asks from outside, and your insides turn cold. You completely forgot about him.

"Yeah, just…," you bite your lip, not sure what to say without sounding all whiney. "Nothing really works."

There's a moment of silence, and you're about to change again, but then Arthur's voice penetrates your cocoon of self-loathing. "Let me see?"

"God no," you huff, the thought of Arthur seeing you like this turning your stomach.

"That's what you would do with Tilly, right?"

You're trying to find an excuse, but Arthur is right, and you can't exactly tell him that you don't want him to see you at your ugliest because of your crush on him. After a deep sigh, you step out from behind the curtain.

Heat pools in your chest with the way Arthur's eyes travel over your entire body, and it takes all your willpower not to run away.

"Alright, that looks nice, right?" Arthur asks, and you stare at yourself in the mirror.

"Nice?" you huff, prodding at your sides where the fabric clings to your skin. "You can see every roll and curve and just-"

You're not even sure how to finish the sentence, and Arthur furrows his brows. "But that's just how you look."

"Right," you say, swallowing the sullen feeling that rises in your chest. 

You head back behind the curtain, blindly grabbing the next set of clothes while Arthur's words run in a loop in your mind. That's just how you look. Although you have no desire to do so, you step outside again.

"Oh, that's great," Arthur says, and you can't believe how genuine he sounds.

You take another look in the mirror, not knowing what's great about that outfit. Then you try on the next one, and when you come out again and let Arthur have a look, he actually smiles. 

"Very nice."

"Are you kidding?" you say, finally snapping. "This is a green shirt with red pants; there's no way you can think this looks good."

Arthur looks you over before shrugging his shoulders. "I don't know; you just always look pretty."

"You- I don't-" you stammer, not sure what to say to that.

Instead, you rush back behind the curtain, your heart pounding like crazy. You've known Arthur for years. He always has a nice word for people, but he's not the type to lie. If he says that you're pretty, it's because he thinks you're pretty. You're not equipped to deal with that revelation in the changing room of an outlet store.

"You alright in there?" Arthur asks, and you feel like screaming.

Instead, you take a deep breath before poking your head out from behind the curtain. "Can you do me a favor?"

"Sure," Arthur says, although he looks anything but sure.

"Don't look at me so much but more at the clothes. Like, it's okay to tell me if they're ugly."

"Alright, I'll try."

You pick out another outfit and head back outside, turning in a circle. "So?"

Arthur studies you for a moment, his face one of pure concentration. "I'm not sure I like that color. It looks like a banana peel."

"Yes," you shout, clapping your hands together. "That's something Tilly would say. That's what I'm looking for."

"Okay," Arthur says, although he still looks confused.

"Just channel your inner Tilly. Can you do that for me?"

Arthur laughs, but then he nods. "Sure, I'll do my best."

From there on out, trying out things is actually fun. Arthur's an artist, after all, so he has an excellent eye for matching colors, and you learn a lot about what he likes when it comes to patterns and prints. The only things you don't show to Arthur are the dresses.

Two of them are right out ugly, but the last one could be something if it was actually tailored to your body. You remember Martha, and although you hate spending much money on clothes, it would be nice to have a cute dress.

You head outside in your own clothes, and Arthur grins. "Now that one is really killing it."

"Shut up," you grunt, shoving the clothes in his hands that you don't want. "I'll need to take a dress to the tailor and pay for the few things that actually fit."

"Alright," Arthur says, handing you your bag, and you make your way over to Martha.

She falls over herself to help you and calls for another woman to fit the dress so that they know what changes they'll need to make. Arthur heads over to you while she rings you up.

"I'll have a smoke outside," he says, "I think we established that I'm not a big help here."

"Oh no, you did great."

"It's not hard when you make everything look good," Arthur says, and he actually winks at you before heading outside.

You clench your teeth together to keep the butterflies in your stomach from flying out, and Martha smiles. "Isn't your husband the sweetest?"

"Oh, he's not my husband," you force yourself to say, although another flock of butterflies takes flight in your stomach.

"Ah, don't you worry, dear," she says, tapping your hand, "I've seen the way he looks at you. He's going to pop the question soon enough."

You feel like she dumped a bucket of ice water over your head. The way Arthur looks at you? What does that mean?

"I don't know-" you say, but Martha gives you a reassuring smile.

"Believe me, dear. I've seen so many couples come in here over the years. Some men hold their girlfriend's bag because they have to; some do it because they want to." She looks outside the window where Arthur watches the parking lot while having his smoke. "This one wants to."

You wish there was something you could say, but you draw a complete blank. Arthur turns around, and when he sees you looking at him, he smiles. You smile back, unable to help yourself, and Martha smiles even bigger. "Think of us when you need a wedding dress. We have a great selection."

---------

You stare into the mirror hating yourself. You hate parties even more, but it's Abigail who invited you, so you couldn't say no. Now you're trapped in John's and Abigail's bathroom, ready to drown yourself in the toilet.

In a state of sudden euphoria, you picked out your new dress to wear this morning, a decision that you very much regret. You feel uncomfortable and very much out of your league. 

A lot of Abigail's co-workers look like they sprung right out of a catalog, with fancy dresses and high heels, ready to hop on the catwalk. Seeing them made you want to turn tail right at the door, but Abigail pulled you inside and introduced you to a few people. 

Arthur's been there as well, talking to a tall woman with long hair and even longer legs. That's when your day went from shitty to right out horrible. If Arthur thinks you're pretty, you don't even want to know what he might say about her.

Still, you can't hide in here forever. You just have to suck it up until you can go home, and never accept any of Abigail's invitations ever again. You try to stand tall and walk back outside, doing your best to look confident.

You can't find John or Abigail anywhere, and although you try to fight the urge, you search for Arthur. He's still talking to the same woman, but then Abigail drags him away from her and whispers something in his ear. He nods, and when Abigail walks away, he makes his way to the kitchen, turning his head as if he's looking for something.

Again, you have the urge to hide, but then Arthur spots you and stops in his tracks. You force a smile on your face and wave, but while Arthur looks you up and down, he doesn't move in the slightest. You're about to walk up to him, but the woman from before steps in your path. You can't hear her, but Arthur smiles.

The expression that usually makes your heart melt now drives a knife right through it. You can't take it anymore and head back to the bathroom, finding it's locked. You hammer your fist against the door, making someone groan inside.

"Um, occupied?" an annoyed voice says, and you flee to the next door, rushing inside.

You walk up and down John's and Abigail's bedroom, trying to figure out what's wrong with you. After all, you've never been jealous before. You've had a crush on Arthur for a while, even when he still had a girlfriend, Mary. After they broke up, you still didn't have the illusion that he would magically fall in love with you. You were friends, and that was alright.

The only thing that changed was that stupid shopping tour. Arthur said you were pretty, and of course, you read too much into it. And then there was Martha, letting you believe that Arthur might actually want to be more than just friends. You'll have to get that out of your head.

"Y/N? You in there?" Arthur's voice comes through the door, making you jump.

"Um, yes?"

"Can I come in?"

"I- wait," you say, not sure what to do. 

Arthur's the last person you want to see right now, but you can't think of a reason to send him away. If you do, he might get Abigail, and then you'd be in for a long conversation you don't want to have right now.

You open the door, and Arthur searches your eyes. "You okay? Abigail said you suddenly ran off, and now you did the same thing with me."

"I just saw you with that woman and thought you'd rather talk to her."

"Why? I don't even know her name."

"Well, she's beautiful, and I'm-"

You know you can't finish the sentence without tearing up, so you press your lips together, trying to keep the sorrow bottled up deep inside.

"You're what?"

"Plump, chubby, I don't know," you snap, unable to hold back your frustration. "Call it whatever you want."

"That's what you said at the outlet," Arthur says, confusion on his face, "but that's how you look, right?"

"Yeah, right."

You're about to just storm out, but then Arthur lets out a deep sigh, something you've never heard from him before.

"John keeps making fun of me, and now Abigail's on my back as well, so I might as well just say it," Arthur says. He's rubbing his neck, looking more at the ground than at you. "I think you're pretty and smart, and funny, and kind-"

You stare at Arthur, and he fidgets with his hands when he finally looks at you. 

"I know you told me to look at the clothes, but it's hard to focus on some lifeless fabric when you're inside of it. You're just too distracting because you're goddamn sexy and-"  Arthur interrupts himself, his gaze traveling up and down your body in a way that makes your blood boil. 

You're pretty sure you're in shock. You've rarely heard Arthur say that much in one go, and you struggle to make sense of it all. Could Arthur really like you, let alone be attracted to you? "Arthur-?"

"I'm sorry, but I'm a simple man, and when I look at that dress, the only thing I can think about is how I want to rip it off and look at you instead."

You try your hardest to process what you just heard. With any other guy, you might think this is a joke, but Arthur would never be so cruel. You try your best to come up with something to say when you hear the lock of the bathroom door click. 

The last thing you need right now is an audience, so you grab Arthur by his shirt and pull him into the room to close the door behind you. You lean with your back against the door, and since Arthur moved along without resistance, his hands come to rest on both sides of you, your fingers still clinging to his shirt. 

"What-?" Arthur mumbles in surprise, but you touch your fingers to his lips to quiet him.

Outside, someone walks along the corridor. You hear voices, and a door falls shut. For a second, you believe to be in the clear, but then there are footsteps again.

You strain your ears, and aside from the noises outside, you can hear Arthur's shallow breathing, his hot breath washing up against your fingers. You hurriedly take your hand away but make the mistake of looking at him. 

Arthur hasn't moved an inch, his eyes trained on you. Close like this, you're overwhelmed by everything that's purely him. His scent, the heat radiating from him, the clear color of his eyes, and his lips that feel a lot softer to the touch than you ever imagined. 

You listen closely to make sure nobody's coming in here, but all you can hear is Arthur's breathing and your own heart, beating so fast it might break through your rips any second. And then there's everything Arthur said about you, swirling around in your head.

"Did you really mean that?" you ask, your voice shaky. "What you said about me?"

Arthur's eyes flicker to the ground, and he draws back a little, his cheeks gaining more color. "I just- You know, I usually really hate shopping."

A little laugh fights its way out of your chest, taking the doubts with it. Some guys want to hold the bag.

You cup Arthur's face, your fingers ghosting over his beard as you draw him in. Again, he follows along, and when there's barely an inch between the two of you, you feel like you might burst into flames any second.

This time, Arthur's the one to move first, touching his lips to yours. It's almost too gentle, careful even, but it still lights a fire in your belly. You throw your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss, and Arthur takes his hands away from the door to embrace you.

You enjoy his body pressed flush against yours, and Arthur runs his hands along your body without any reluctance. You can't remember the last time you felt so wanted, and something inside you just snaps.

Like before, you grab Arthur by his shirt, but now you push him until you get to the bed. He sits down, reaching for your legs, and you feel like catching fire when Arthur runs his hands along your thighs to push up the dress.

He looks up at you, and without words, you agree that this won't be drawn out and careful. Now that you're in it, neither of you wants to wait.

Arthur hooks his fingers under the rim of your underwear and pulls it down. Before he has a chance to do more, you push him back onto the bed, getting right to open his pants. He groans when you pull him out and throws his head down onto the bed with a curse when you stroke him.

Seeing him like this is already hard to handle, so you just know you won't hold on for long. You crawl on top of Arthur, and when you rub his cock against your pussy, he grabs your hips and holds on to you while you sink down on him.

You take a little time to enjoy how Arthur feels inside of you, and even more how he looks up to you. With every move you make, his breath hitches, and when you start to ride him in earnest, he lets out a defeated moan between gritted teeth.

You try your best to stay quiet yourself, but it's getting harder the more you move. Arthur doesn't help either. He snaps his hips to meet you, and when you lean over him, he grabs your breasts and teases you until you put your own hand over your mouth for a moment to muffle your eager sounds.

To get more leverage, you lean back again, Arthur looking at you as if you were a work of art. He runs his fingers over your skin, sometimes digging a little deeper, tracing every curve. "I could watch you like this all day. You're so beautiful."

Usually, compliments don't even register with you since you don't believe them, but you know that Arthur is sincere. It's impossible not to feel good when he says things like that.

"Don't make me blush," you say, making Arthur chuckle.

"That makes you blush, but this-" Arthur holds on to your hips as you push yourself up and down on him, "-does not?"

You shrug. "I'm not used to compliments."

"You better get used to them," Arthur says. He reaches for you and pulls you close, your body melting against his. "You're sweet and sexy-"

You interrupt him with a kiss, his voice, and sweet words too much to handle. He kisses you back while his hands explore your body, and when you eagerly roll your hips, he grabs your ass, his fingers digging into your flesh.

Like this, it doesn't take long for you to reach your point of no return. You bury your face against Arthur's neck, unable to suppress some quiet moans, and with eager thrusts, you push yourself over the edge.

Your muscles clench around Arthur, and when an eager moan escapes him, you know he won't hold on much longer. You keep moving, and he draws you close again, his arms around you. 

You kiss Arthur, his breathing now fast and erratic, and he moans against your lips as he comes. Holding on to each other, you don't move for a while until you remember where you are.

"We should probably get up," you say, but Arthur shakes his head.

"I'm fine where I am." 

You laugh, and Arthur looks up to you with a smile. You kiss him and fetch some tissues from the bedside table. When you're both cleaned up, you bring your clothes back in order and come to sit next to each other on the bed. You're not quite sure what to say, only stupid things coming to mind.

"So, who's going to tell Abigail and John that they'll have to burn their sheets?" you ask, making Arthur rub his neck.

"Jesus," he huffs before pulling out a coin from his pocket. "Let's flip for it."

"Heads," you say, watching the coin fly. 

Arthur puts it on the back of his hand and groans. "Guess I'll do it."

"And what do we do now?"

With a quick look over his shoulder, Arthur grins. "The sheets are already ruined, so-"

"Flip for that, too," you say.

"Tails," Arthur says, throwing the coin, but instead of catching it, he leans over to push you back onto the bed.

The way he kisses you then takes you to a faraway place. You don't even hear the coin drop.

[animeyanderelover]

May I please have prompt 127 with Grell? Hope that's ok?! Thank you for always answering my requests!

That prompt honestly just suits her so well, I can’t😂.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, clinginess, obsessiveness, kidnapping, blood

Prompt 127: “I would bleed out if you tell me you like the color red.”

"Why exactly do I have to clean always the mess up you make during such missions? How did this even happen?!" Your voice sounded more shrill than usual, slight panic visible in your voice whilst trying to patch up the wound on Grell's shoulder, besmirching yourself with her blood in the process. You were no professional in this, having not the knowledge or experience how to properly sew a wound and you knew that Grell had a higher endurance, meaning she wouldn't die on blood loss. But you had wanted to help nevertheless, having panicked slightly when she had limped through the door, blood smearing her clothes and leaving a path behind you would have to clean later on if you didn't want the whole house to reek of blood.

"It was nothing too much to worry about darling. I just got in a little fight with someone and I let my guard down for a second." You raised your eyebrow slightly. "And with whom exactly did you get into a fight? A human can't have caused this damage on a grim reaper. So that must mean that you fought against another supernatural creature. Question now is which one. Do you want to tell me the reason why as well?"

A grim look crossed Grell's face for a moment, looking upset when recalling the incident that had caused her all the blood loss. "Well?", you asked, giving her a prompting look to encourage her before going back to observing her wound, trying to figure out how you were supposed to patch the wound after having somewhat cleaned it up. "You know, I can deduce this a bit judging from this wound. Were you attacked from a grim reaper's death scythe or something like this?"

"He started it!", Grell quickly defended herself, jerking a bit up in the process and making you nearly hit her in the wrong spot. "Hey! Sit still or else I'll end up sewing the wrong place. I already have troubles finding out how to even patch this!", you snapped, leading her to quickly sitting back in her earlier position.

"Did you get in troubles with William?", you continued questioning her, doing in your head a small simultation on how you would do any moment now finally mend that bleeding deep cut of hers. "No, I didn't! I said that he was the one who started it. He got punished instead of me and was raken his death scythe." You gave her a surprised look, blinking shocked. "...Wait, so this time you really were innocent?!"

"Of course I was! Why do you sound so surprised?", Grell complained, pouting slightly hurt. "Well...How do I say this?", you started, searching for the right words to explain it to her without ending up insulting her. "You're a bit more...quick-tempered and spirited?, you suggested, feeling like those words would come over as more positive.

"So I could have died back then on blood loss and you would have thought it was my fault for even doing so, am I right?", Grell started, sounding suddenly all too dramatic. "I am just being misunderstood in here. I really didn't do this time anything wrong. All I did was trying to talk with him before he suddenly started throwing his death scythe after me. It seems like he had a bad day and wanted me to shut up when all I did was trying to have a polite conversation with him. My feelings were hurt and at the very least you could be a bit more friendly because I might die here."

"Oh, come one! You won't die on this. The worst that might happen is you feeling dizzy and somewhat hazy due to all the blood that you have already lost! But that's all! Don't be such a drama queen! I'll fix you up! I'll try at least...Do you think that you can tolerate the pain?" It was kind of an unnecessary question, she had told you stories where she had been thrown through walls and hadn't looked affected so this was a ridiculous question which you noticed by the 'why are you even asking' look in her eyes. "Forget it. That was a stupid question. Still, sit still or else I'll end up piercing that thing by accident somewhere where we don't want to have it."

Your hands were slightly shaking, you were after all pretty nervous since you had never done it before. But it was either you finally closing the cut or accepting having her bleeding for a whole lot longer until her body would heal itself which you didn't want to wait for because it would only dirty the house even more than already. She would definitely help you later on scrubbing all the blood from the floor.

"You look sexy whilst being so concentrated.", you heard her chirping, her body moving a bit in the process which made you barely prevent yourself from ramming the needle with the threat in your own hand. "Grell?", you asked after calming down from the small shock. "Yes?", she replied. "Shut up whilst I'm flicking you together. I have to concentrate and your job is to sit still. No moving, no speaking, preferably no breathing. Just be like a stone. Do nothing."

"You want me to stop breathing? So mean.", she whined out, but after seeing the look with the silent message 'just do it', she let out a small huff before sucking in one last gasp of her and then completely stopping to move. "See? You can do it ans it isn't like you will die instantly. Let me just hurry up a bit."

You hadn't even gloves on, making all of this a bit gross since your hands were already stained with Grell's blood and the smell and close sight of it wasn't very great to look at either, but you had never been someone who was shaken up easily and life with the grim reaper had definitely hardened you up a lot.

For the biggest part you managed to not show your nervousness, though the slight trembling of your hands and your bloody and sweaty palms might have given it away that you had no idea what you were doing, the only knowledge you did possess was having read books about how to do it and having watched someone doing it once before, though it hadn't been on a human. But it was better than walking in on this completely blindly and whilst it ended up being a bit inexpertly, you still felt proud because for a starter it was still pretty good, but that was of course only your opinion.

You let out a small sigh, wanting to wipe your forehead before stopping abruptly, remembering just what exactly you had sticking on your whole body. You would have to take a thoroughly shower afterwards.

"Can I breathe again?", you suddenly heard Grell asking with a pressed voice, reminding you that she had hold her breath for the last four minutes, probably even longer. Respect, you didn't know if you could do that in such a situation. "Oh yes. Feel free to do what you want."

She gasped loudly, grabbing your shoulders in the process and just breathing a few times deeply in and out before straightening up and bending her head in an attempt to take a look at the freshly stitched wound. "Does it look daft?", she asked you.

"What the...? Grell, it isn't supposed to look like a work of art, not when I did it. It's just to stop the bleeding.", you quickly scolded her, tidying up all the tools and the many soaked towels and tissues you had used to clean all the blood from her wound. "And I'm sure you wouldn't want that to happen, right? Bleeding out in this house. But it seems like in the end everything went fine, the blood loss doesn't seem to have had an affect on you.", you added, feeling actually a bit relieved that she hadn't experienced any sort of dizzyness or shock from all of this.

You glaned with a heavy sigh down on yourself, examining just how terrible you really looked, blood smeared all over your face, your arms, clothes and even the tip of your hairs hadn't been spared. Someone would need to spend the next few hours in the bathroom to scrub and clean themselves thoroughly and severly up, you didn't plan on reeking like a wandering bloob bag.

"I look pretty bad.", you mumbled out, shaking your hands a bit in hopes of getting some of the still liquid blood off, though you knew you should hurry before it would start to dry. "I think you look gorgeous, covered in all my blood like this. Red suits you."

You stiffened up when hearing her saying this, although you weren't surprised hearing something like this coming from her. "Do you have to say this after I just patched you up? It makes it sound like you would have actually wanted to continuously lose blood just so I could be covered in your blood. And you wouldn't do that...right?" Why had you to ask this? She would surely not be that risky with her love for you, would she?

Grell put her fingertips on her chest, with the other gesturing at you. (y/n), I would bleed out if you tell me you like the color red."

...You shouldn't have asked this. For a few seconds you were quiet, thinking about how to give an answer to that question before just humming, deciding to leave this without any comment that could lead to her saying more stuff like this. You were for a short moment thinking if she had perhaps after all gotten a bit confused after losing that much of her blood, but with her it was hard to tell. You were sure she would be fine either way, making up your mind to just finally take a bath with a lot of soap.

"Are you taking a bath now?", Grell queried when seeing you walking towards the bathroom. "Obviously.", you replied, slowly gesturing at your currently eerie-looking figure, dry and still fresh blood mixing everywhere on your body. You were sure if you would walk like this at night through the forest and would cross paths with someone, they would run away crying and screaming. You looked like you had just murdered someone.

"Great! Can I come with you?"

"...Let me think. No."

"Why not? I could help you with cleaning you up from all the blood."

"I surely won't let you see me naked Grell! And you need to go easy on yourself now, especially with that freshly sewed shoulder of yours!"

"...I can use my other arm to scrub you up."

"Grell! No means no!"

"Fine then. I just wanted to help you. You could sometimes be a bit more polite with me."

"I politely decline.", you told her before finally disappearing, locking out of caution the door. You didn't know how effective a 'no' would be with her. You knew her overzealousness too well.

[indiavolowetrust]

THE OBEY ME BOYS AS CRYPTIDS

READ THE OBEY ME UNDATEABLES AS CRYPTIDS HERE.

LUCIFER

It has stood there for so very long. Strutted about a bit, sat down to rest, and strutted about some more when other children passed by. It is at an exhibit at the zoo, after all, but you can’t help but think it looks a bit strange. Are peacocks supposed to have pitch-black feathers with thousands of eyes on it? Are peacocks supposed to have a massive crimson eye in the middle of their forehead? Is it even a peacock? You can’t remember if this exhibit was for peacocks. Where are the other people at the zoo?

You read the sign. BENGAL TIGER, it says.

It blinks at you. Its thousand other eyes blink afterwards in unison. As weird as it sounds, you’re pretty sure it’s waiting for you to compliment it.

MAMMON

You think it likes you. Or, at least, it seems to think of you as a friend in some way. The white crow leaves you little gifts everyday on your way home from school. Bits of shiny twine, bottle caps, the occasional soda tab or two. And then you begin to show it more and more attention, even naming it something silly like “Money”, and the thing responds in something like affection. The gifts become more extravagant: a broken necklace made from silver, a single earring, a gold bracelet encrusted with dark red, and an old ring inset with precious stones, to name a few. A pair of expensive-looking cuff links, a whole pair of earrings this time, and a circlet.

And then there is what looks like a golden tooth.

Your mother tells you over breakfast to watch out for suspicious people. There’s been a lot of grave robbing, you see. They’ve been stealing jewelry from the dead.

You drop your spoon into the cereal.

LEVIATHAN

It may be a snake -- a really big one, actually -- but you get the impression that it isn’t really dangerous. I mean, it’s not poisonous, so the worst thing it can do is bite, right? And it doesn’t seem like it would want to do that. It hisses almost playfully when you pet it, wrapping its coils around your arm as if it wants to give you a hug, and a few times you even let it kiss you in the face. You know that snakes don’t really kiss, but what’s the harm in that?

Your crush from third period walks you home one day, holding your hand, and even gives you a kiss on the cheek when he leaves you at your doorstep. Tells you that he’ll see you tomorrow. You don’t see the snake for a while.

His body is found strangled to death a couple weeks later, his arms and legs covered in bite marks from some massive animal. The snake comes up to you the next morning, affectionate as ever. You decide not to do stuff like that anymore.

SATAN

He’s a stray dog. You’d have to be a monster not to give him scraps. So you do, and the dog asks for more. You give him more. For the next few weeks – months, even – it becomes your routine: you sit at the secluded spot in the school courtyard, the giant hound with green eyes saunters up to you, and you share its lunch with it. It naps in the shade while you do your homework after school, seeing how your older brother doesn’t always show up in time to walk you home after your after-school club.

The bully from your fourth period class throws you into the trashcan one day, laughing and taunting you. Her friends join her, and soon you are being surrounded and kicked and stomped on the pavement. But you don’t cry out. You won’t give her the satisfaction.

A blow to your head, and all is dark.

You wake up sometime later. The sunset is beautiful. The area around you is warm – so, so warm – and strangely wet. The dog licks your face and wounds again and again, and you try not to giggle at the sensation. He’s a good boy.

Aside from the carnage that now surrounds you, he is such a good boy. You’ll bring him barbecued meat next time.

ASMODEUS

You gotta admit, it’s a pretty cute scorpion. You’re not really sure why it’s pink or why it’s following you, but at least it hasn’t shown any defensive or aggressive instincts. So it can’t be that aggressive. You let it be as you take the long hike back to your camp site. Your fellow co-workers in the field wouldn’t even believe you, anyway. The damned thing is probably spray-painted or something like that. Some weird kid’s prank.

Strangely enough, however, you notice it scuttling around at camp. Your co-workers seem to be getting stung by a great many insects while in the field, but they don’t seem to mind it. Or even bother treating it, for some reason. Then there’s that weird behavior – no, you’re thinking into it too much. Comparing a bright pink scorpion to a succubus is a little too crazy, even for you.

And then a strange man with pink eyes and a tipped tail stands in front of your tent one night, a rather satisfied smile on his face. You’re the only one that hasn’t been stung, he tells you. It’s your turn.

BEELZEBUB

You’re pretty sure insects aren’t supposed to look like that. Or be that big, for that matter. But he’s kinda cute, being fuzzy and orange and all, and only wants a bit of food every now and then. Mama always makes too much, anyway. A half-eaten pork chop that you didn’t want, an entire plate of rice, extra dumplings – everything, you know? Mama can’t have dinner with you because she has the graveyard shift, your dad always stumbles home smelling like alcohol, and as weird as it is, this orange fuzzy thing is your only friend. So you keep feeding him.

You wake up to screaming one night. They’re arguing like they always do, but – but this time there’s something different. Something wrong. Mama lets out a high-pitched scream, and then all is silent.

Despite being only a kid and armed with a single frying pan, you burst into the room. Blood trails from Mama’s mouth and she’s unconscious, but she’s still breathing. Just barely alive. It looks like she got hit in the head pretty hard.

There’s the sound of eating from across the room. You don’t pay attention to it too much. The fuzzy orange thing saved Mama’s life, so that’s all that matters. And at least you won’t have to feed him for a while.

BELPHEGOR

He is quite possibly the laziest ox you’ve ever seen. Sleeps all day, sleeps all night, and refuses to pull even the lightest of carts. Your uncle says he’s nothing more than a nuisance, really, but he’s nice enough. He even naps with you on long summer days, acting as both a pillow and bed, and it looks like he even grows fond of you. He seeks you out in the fields, presses his big nose into your palm, and nuzzles you.

You run through the fields, your heart hammering in your chest, but you’ll be damned if you let the neighbor’s boy catch you. You’ve already seen something that you weren’t supposed to, and he knows. He knows, he knows, he knows. And he’s coming after you.

You hop over the fence. Shouldn’t be too long to the house now. He yells taunts and threats at you as you carve your way through the darkness, nearly running blindly, and then --

He grabs you by the back of your shirt. You scream. You see the glint of a knife, the murderous intent flashing across his eyes, and you know it’s over. You can only hope you die quickly enough.

The next morning, you wake up on something soft. Warm. The lazy ox grumbles beneath you, protesting as you sit upwards in a panic, and then you realize that you are safe. Last night was just a nightmare. It never happened.

And then you happen across the body. There is an indent in the grass around it, as if something massive had just fallen asleep on the body.

[lesbianlotties]

Sam Fraser Has a Good Day

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Fear Street Trilogy (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Samantha "Sam" Fraser/Deena Johnson Characters: Samantha "Sam" Fraser (Fear Street), Deena Johnson Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Not Canon Compliant, Everyone Is Alive, Nightmares, Breakfast, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Napping, Dancing, Late Night Conversations, Making Out, Kissing, Fluff without Plot, Domestic Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Fluff, literally what the title says Words: 2401

In the span of a couple of days, Sam Fraser was: in a car crash, chased by several undead killers, used as bait, almost overdosed, drowned, possessed, tied up in the trunk of a car, hit in the head several times... and somehow she survived.

She deserves a good day. She deserves to: stay in her girlfriend's house and steal her sweaters, sleep until noon, have a good breakfast, eat jello in peace, get clean bandages, play video games, eat ice cream, take a nap, dance to her favorite songs, go on a late-night drive for cheeseburgers, and cuddle and kiss her girlfriend the entire day.

Sam wakes up startled, as usual. She is gasping for air and sitting up hastily. Was she having a nightmare? Is she stepping into a nightmare now? Because she can tell she’s wearing one of Deena’s t-shirts. But what if her mom sees her? Is she going to catch her? Should she start running from something, or keep herself from running toward something? 

“Sam?”

That soft voice is the one that breaks the spell.

“Deena,” Sam sighs. 

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay,” Deena whispers, tentatively wrapping her arms around her girlfriend. Instantly, she feels Sam relax in her embrace.

“Sorry,” Sam mumbles, tucking her face on the crook of Deena’s neck. “Just a nightmare.”

“I got you,” Deena says softly. She places a kiss on Sam’s forehead and carefully guides them to lay down again. “It’s early. Why don’t you go back to sleep?” Deena asks, realizing right after that Sam fell asleep before answering at all.

--

A couple of hours later, Sam wakes up again. This time there are no nightmares, no screams of terror caught in her throat, no reaching out blindly for air or a weapon. She wakes up slowly, clutching the heavy blanket that covers her body, yawning without restrain, and eventually opening her eyes slowly. The first thing she does is look for her girlfriend, and she finds her sitting at the foot of the bed, sketching on a notebook with an endearing frown of concentration on her face.

“Good morning,” Sam says through a new yawn.

“Well,” Deena smirks fondly at her, “it is closer to noon now, but good morning to you too, baby.”

“What? Noon?” Sam frowns and attempts to rub the sleep off her eyes. “Since when do I sleep longer than you?” Sam asks, and puts on a pout on her lips for her next question, “And why are you so far away?”

Deena chuckles affectionately at her and puts away her pencil and notebook. She crawls back to her girlfriend and playfully flops down beside her. “Hey,” Deena greets her with her signature raspy tone. She receives a dreamy “hi” and a soft peck on the lips in response. Afterward, she explains, “To answer your question, I just thought you deserved a day to sleep in.” When Sam gives her a look of pleased surprise, Deena adds, “In fact, I think you’ve earned a full day, just for you, to rest and enjoy.”

“Deena, you don’t have to do that,” Sam attempts to protest, right before her girlfriend interrupts her with a kiss that turns into two, and three, and four, and soon enough they simply lose count.

--

Deena’s plans encounter an obstacle as soon as they manage to leave the comfort of her room to go make breakfast. Sam was fresh out of the shower, wearing one of Deena’s t-shirts this time. Deena barely gets to open the fridge before Sam tries to intervene with a soft-spoken, “Let me.” It’s safe to say that Deena puts up quite a fight, though.

“I just wanted to take care of you for one day, okay?” She insists. “You fucking deserve it.”

“That’s sweet,” Sam replies, feeling absolutely endeared. She leans in and places a kiss on Deena’s forehead, and Deena tries and fails to keep up her frown. “Listen, I appreciate it, and I love you for it, okay?” Sam says, giving Deena’s lips a small kiss. “But consider this. One, you already took care of me at my worst. Two, a perfect day, for me, means that you get to enjoy it too, and I get to take care of you too, got it? And three… do you really want to burn my breakfast on my special day?”

Sam attempted to quickly kiss Deena’s cheek and run away, but the brunette was quick enough to reach out and take her in her arms, ticking her in revenge for the not-unfounded critique of her culinary skills.

--

After their meal, the two girls make their way to the living room’s couch, where they are free to cuddle and exchange lazy kisses for as long as they could possibly want. Eventually, though, Deena finds the strength to pull away long enough to have an actual conversation.

“So, while you were sleeping, Kate and Simon stopped by,” Deena says. “Everyone feels kind of bad about you, you know, getting possessed and shit.” Deena pauses with a grimace, not proud of her choice of words, but Sam quickly kisses her cheek to urge her to go on. Deena begrudgingly stands up from the couch, to look for a certain bag, and explains, “Josh, oh so generously, gave us the gift of privacy and he is staying the fuck away from home for the day. He’s sleeping at Simon’s house. Also, he says you can play his video games, if you want. And… Kate and Simon brought all this.”

Deena drops a bag from the Grab N’ Bag on the couch and Sam eagerly looks through its contents. She gasps, “Finally!” And pulls out one of many packets of jello. 

Deena’s love-sick laugh spills right out of her lips. “You’re adorable,” Deena says before kissing the top of Sam’s head and climbing back to the couch beside her. “There’s also popcorn, chips, ice cream is in the fridge, a couple of your favorite movies that I think were yours in the first place and they’re just returning, and a happy birthday card because they don’t exactly make cards for the shit we’ve lived,” Deena explains, content to watch her girlfriend smile and nod happily while enjoying her jello. Then she clears her throat and not so contentedly adds, “We also have a bunch of uh, fresh bandages and stuff.”

The two girls exchange a look and understand exactly what this means.

--

“This is not what I had in mind when I planned to give you a perfect day,” Deena says. She is sitting on the bathroom counter without a shirt on while Sam gives the final touches to the fresh bandage on Deena’s stomach. At the beginning, her hands were shaking with guilt, and fear, but she quickly got them under control and lovingly worked on the healing wound that a different version of herself caused.

“I told you,” Sam insists without looking away from her work. “I also want to take care of you, you know?” She is standing there without her shirt on, with an equally fresh bandage on her back.

When Sam iss done, Deena gently grabs her hands and moves them up to her lips to kiss them sweetly. “Thank you,” she whispers.

Sam turns breathless at the gesture. She feels butterflies in her stomach and decides to tell Deena how much she’s enjoying her day. Speechless as she is though, Sam only thinks to lean forward and connect their lips, determined to kiss her girlfriend until they lose track of time.

--

Some time later, Sam finds herself comfortably seated on her girlfriend’s lap, wearing her sweater again, and biting her lip in great concentration as she tries to succeed at one of Josh’s video games.

“You nerd, I can’t believe you’re into this,” Deena chuckles fondly behind her.

“Hush, I almost got it,” Sam mumbled.

As much as Deena wants Sam to win whatever game that is, she thinks it would be a crime to hold herself back in a position as convenient as this one. So she moves Sam’s blonde hair out of the way and starts placing feather-light kisses on her neck. At first, Sam tries to ignore her. Then, she squirms just a little. After a very effective bite from Deena, a small whimper escapes from Sam’s lips.

“Tell me,” Deena starts saying with a seductive whisper. “Do the other cheerleaders know you’re secretly a dork?”

That finally gets Sam to stop the game and turn around with a gasp. “Deena!” she protests, although she’s laughing. And she crashes her lips together. She would hate to let Deena win so easily, but she feels much more like a winner in this situation.

--

Sometime in the afternoon, Sam wakes up on the couch with her head on Deena’s chest. She’s so perfectly comfortable and warm and safe, that she starts to feel suspicious. She didn’t even have a bad dream at all. She starts to fearfully consider this might be nothing but a dream about to turn into a nightmare, but then she moves her head up to look at her girlfriend and her worries vanish all at once. Deena is still asleep, she’s frowning a little and her lips are slightly parted as she adorably mumbles in her sleep. The feeling of love and adoration in Sam’s chest is so strong and so real that she doesn’t have any doubt this has to be her reality. 

After all the pain, the fear, and the danger of it all, this is real, and they earned it. It’s not even just about those days of extreme violence when they ended the curse, it’s even bigger than that. It’s a moment of well-earned peace and happiness that’s been more than three hundred years in the making. They have been fighting for this moment their entire lives, and they were so close to losing hope forever, but they made it. Deena was right, they fucking deserve it.

So, Sam makes a couple of decisions. First, she decides it’s best if they go one day without watching a horror movie. As much as she loves them, they have had enough horror for a while. And two, she decides that continuing her nap is the perfect way to honor Deena’s wish of giving her a perfect day. She gets comfortable again on top of her girlfriend and drifts back to sleep.

--

Not too long later, Sam and Deena are in the middle of a tube of ice cream and halfway through watching Grease. Well, Deena is watching the movie. Sam is a little more focused on the extremely amusing sight of Deena trying to avoid smiling at the movie.

“Oh my God, you love it,” Sam keeps giggling whenever Deena slips up and grins at the movie on the television screen.

“No, I fucking don’t,” Deena rolls her eyes, makes no move to quit the movie, and adds through gritted teeth, “I just acknowledge that it’s a classic.”

Her words only make Sam smile even brighter as she continues to take spoonfuls of ice cream and marvel at the sight of her girlfriend.

--

A perfect day, of course, wouldn’t be complete without listening to the mixtape Deena made for Sam, and dancing in the middle of her bedroom without a care in the world.

Sam is the one that starts dancing, swinging her arms around, not very gracefully. And Deena shakes her head at her with extreme fondness. “You are a weirdo, Sam Fraser,” she says, making her girlfriend laugh, completely unaffected by the comment.

“Dance with me,” Sam replies with a carefree grin on her face. She steps forward and pulls on Deena’s arms until she convinces her to dance with her.

As usual, Deena tries to put up a fight that she loses as soon as she stares into precious blue eyes. There’s not a thing she wouldn’t do for Sam. They already had to do the most extreme things for each other. How could she refuse her girlfriend a dance?

It’s a perfect evening to a perfect day. The two of them dance to their favorite songs, laugh wholeheartedly, kiss without holding back, jump and spin and fall in each other's arms again and again, as if falling in love all over with every new song.

--

As comfortable as it would be to stay home for the last few hours of the day, the perfect dinner to complete the day means getting cheeseburgers. Not even Deena complains about the idea. After all, she always loved driving around town with Sam in the passenger seat, humming along to the songs on her mixtape, her blonde hair glowing under the streetlights they passed, completely comfortable silence between them, without a destination in mind. 

They park the car at a familiar spot. They eat their cheeseburgers, playfully feed fries to each other, and have a perfectly good time. Conversation flows easily between them, reminiscing of old memories or sharing dreams of a bright future that starts to feel more possible than ever before.

When Sam starts yawning, Deena is quick to point out, “You’re sleepy.”

“Am not,” Sam scoffs in that very particular way that tells Deena her girlfriend is blatantly lying.

“Don’t fall asleep on me, Fraser. How rude,” Deena teases her.

Sam giggles happily in response. She can’t deny she’s looking forward to returning home to Deena’s bed, but she genuinely loves to put up a fight against her girlfriend, no matter how often she ends up losing. 

“I’m very awake,” Sam insists, a knowing look on her face because she can easily predict Deena’s answer.

“Prove it,” Deena says.

Even before she’s done saying the words, Sam is leaning in to kiss her. They kiss, again and again, until Sam whispers against Deena’s lips, “Take me home.”

--

It’s well past midnight when Sam and Deena finally agree that even perfect days must come to an end. They lie in Deena’s bed, facing each other, legs tangled together, often exchanging kisses or sweet words that only exist in that vulnerable space between them.

“Thank you,” Sam whispers. She pushes a stray brown curl behind Deena’s ear, then her hand rests for a moment there on Deena’s cheek, her thumb lovingly caressing her skin.

“I told you,” Deena replies in an equally hushed tone even though they have the entire house for themselves. “You deserve it,” she adds, then she turns her head just enough to place a small kiss to the inside of Sam’s wrist, making the blonde smile timidly.

“I’m not talking about today,” Sam says. She considers explaining that she means she’s saying thank you for absolutely every moment they spent together since they met, but…

“I know,” Deena says. Her smile widens and she adds, “Just so you know, I also enjoyed today, a lot. So thank you too.”

Sam replies with a sweet kiss to Deena’s lips. Then the two of them cuddle closer and slowly, peacefully, happily drift off to a good and restful night of sleep.

[reinerispretty]

rotations. (zuko x f!reader) ch. 11

hello hello hello!! thank you all so much for reading my fic, it really means the world to me! i never thought i’d see this many people enjoy something i wrote, so i want you guys to know that i appreciate each and every one of you and i see every single one of your comments and they make me smile so big!!! i hope you’re all having a great day :)

pt 1

pt 10

pt 12

The door to her cell opened and she had to squint against the bright light of civilization. It took her eyes a few moments to adjust to the change before she recognized the shadowy figures that stood in front of her. “Mom?” She asked. “Dad?” 

The cement walls of the cells were covered in years of dirt and dust. The little light that filtered through the window at the very top of the wall illuminated the room just enough so that one could see their hand in front of their face. The floor of her cell was dirt, which she supposed was a benefit, as she didn’t have a bed. 

(Y/N) spent most of her days in solitude. Occasionally, a guard would come in and toss her meals on the floor. They had no problem being unkind to her. They reminded her that she was a traitor to her people, a worthless and groveling little girl that used others for her own advantages. They called her names, threw food at her, and reminded her that she would be spending the rest of her life in this wretched place. 

After Katara fled with Aang, she and Iroh had been captured in Ba Sing Se. Their hands and feet were placed in shackles to prevent them from bending. Azula herself had thrown her into her cell on the ship that they would use to travel back to the Fire Nation. The girl spit at her from outside the cell bars before shutting the door behind her. That was the last time (Y/N) had seen anyone she recognized.

She wasn’t sure how many days she had been in prison. They all melted together when she tried to think about it. The only thing she knew was that the guards woke her up when it was time to wake up. 

It was a long time before she received her first visitors. She was sat at the back of the cell against the wall, replaying all the good times that she had had with her friends in her mind. Pushing Aang into the river on accident, teaching Toph how to do a cartwheel, and hunting and making dinner with Sokka and Katara were just a few of the things that popped into her mind. 

The door to her cell opened and she had to squint against the bright light of civilization. It took her eyes a few moments to adjust to the change before she recognized the shadowy figures that stood in front of her. “Mom?” She asked. “Dad?” 

Her parents looked down at her. She scrambled to her feet to come closer to the bars. She reached her hands out to touch them, but neither of them reached out to her. Her father’s face was one of anger and disgust. Her mother, surprisingly, just looked sad. 

“When I found out that you had betrayed us--betrayed your nation, I was in disbelief. You had always been such an obedient young girl. And then I find out that my daughter had released prisoners and run away with the Avatar.” Her father turned his nose up at her. “You deserve every single thing that has come to you. You’re lucky Fire Lord Ozai hasn’t imprisoned us all for your treachery.” 

(Y/N)’s fingers curled around the bars of her cell. “You’re in far too deep to ever understand,” she said. 

“What I understand is that my own daughter is a traitor and that I have no choice but to disown her from our family.” 

She stared at him in disbelief. “You would put the Fire Nation before me?” 

“I will always put the Fire Nation before you.” For the first time since she arrived at the prison, (Y/N) felt an emotion besides sadness overcome her: anger. 

“That is what’s wrong with you! Throughout my entire life, you’ve chosen everything but your wife and daughter. You think it’s for the good of the Fire Nation, but it’s not! The Fire Nation isn’t good. What they’re doing isn’t good! I’ve seen the destruction we’ve caused with my own two hands. I’ve watched it happen. You’re just a puppet who blindly follows the orders of a tyrannical monster. So fine, disown me! I haven’t wanted to be part of this family since Zuko’s Agni Kai.” 

Her father chuckled. “I had a feeling that’s where you had gone wrong. Your affection for the boy made you weak. You didn’t understand that that’s what needed to be done.”

“And my father needed to make me watch it, right? My father needed to hold my head to make sure that I didn’t turn away while I watched my closest friend--a child--be scarred by his father?” She shook her head. “You’re just as sick as the rest of them.” 

She moved away from the bars and sat down with her back against the wall. “You know, Dad, I actually feel sorry for you. I can’t imagine what it must be like to be so poisoned on the inside.” 

Her father had had enough. He was a man who hated pity and she knew this. Her words had dug deep. He turned and stormed out of the room. Her mother remained. 

“Are you going to disown me too?” She asked. 

Her mother stared at her for a long time. (Y/N) was surprised to see that as she moved closer, her mother was crying. She couldn’t remember her mother expressing any sort of emotion before. 

“My sweet girl,” her mother said, grabbing her hand through the cell bars. “I love you. I wish there was something I could do, but-” 

“It’s okay,” (Y/N) said softly. “I can keep myself safe. You do the same, okay?” Her mother nodded and kissed her hand before leaving the room. 

The encounter with her parents, although horrible, gave her hope. She would make it out of this prison if it was the last thing she did. And if Aang hadn’t survived, she would get rid of Ozai herself. 

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

(Y/N) had been sleeping when she heard something fall to the floor. 

She sat up immediately, looking in every direction to see the source of the noise. The moon was high, but provided very little light into the cell. After feeling around for a few minutes, her hands finally scraped against a brick. She walked over to where it had fallen from and peered inside. 

“Can you hear me?” The voice almost made her scream in surprise. She covered her mouth before leaning close to the hole. She could see another cell on the other side, but she couldn’t see the person. 

“Who’s there?” She whispered back. 

“It’s me,” said the voice, a bit louder this time. She instantly recognized it. 

“Iroh!” She sighed happily. “You can’t understand how happy I am to hear you. How’d you know I was over here?” 

“There’s a nice guard lady who told me about you when I asked. She said you were doing well.” 

“As well as I can be, given...y’know.” Iroh hummed. 

“Listen. I have a plan.” (Y/N) felt her heart begin to race. “The Day of the Black Sun is in two days time. It only last for eight minutes, but we are going to break out.” 

“How are we going to do that?” 

“Follow my lead. And trust me.” 

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

The evening before the Day of the Black Sun, (Y/N) received another visitor. The door shut just as quickly as it opened, so she wasn’t even sure if there was anyone inside with her. Normally the guards left the door open if there were visitors. 

“Hello?” She called out. 

“(Y/N),” Zuko said. 

“Get out.” She didn’t hesitate to say it. “Get out right now or I’ll blast you to pieces.” 

“I know your bending doesn’t work in here.” 

“Fine. Then I’ll tear you to pieces. Leave. Now. I don’t want to talk to you.” 

“Would you just listen to me for a second?” 

“No! You don’t deserve my time. I thought you had changed.” 

“I have changed--” 

“Obviously not, Zuko, because one of us is in this cell and one of us isn’t.” She sat up the actually face him. He sat in front of the cell bars. He was wearing an imperial cloak. “I see you’ve been living fancy in the royal palace.” 

“If you would just shut your mouth for two seconds--” 

“Why? So you can tell me how awful I am? How horrendous it was of me to betray Azula to protect my friends? You want to tell me how good it is now that your Father doesn’t absolutely despise you anymore?”

“I didn’t come here to say any of that.” 

“Then why did you come here?” 

“I...Remember when you came to the tea shop in Ba Sing Se? And we talked and you told me all of those things about how despite everything I’d done, you still missed me?” 

“I take it all back,” she said decidedly. “That was back when I thought you were different. But you’re the same boy who’s let me down time and time again.” She turned away from him. “I trusted you, Zuko. I let myself believe you could really be different. And you know how I hate being wrong.” 

Zuko stood and walked out of her cell, slamming the door shut behind him. (Y/N) held in her tears. She would not let herself cry over Zuko anymore. 

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

(Y/N) tried her hardest to wait during the Day of the Black Sun, but she was too excited. She tried her hardest to see out the window of her cell so that she could tell where the sun was, but it was impossible. Instead, she just paced along the dirt floor. 

She wondered where her friends were, at this very moment. How would she get back to them? She hoped they weren’t far. 

Suddenly, her cell went dark. She heard a commotion happening to her left and then the door to her cell was kicked in. A very buff-looking Iroh entered and bent her cell bars apart just enough so that she could slip through. “I see you haven’t been wasting your time here,” she commented, before the two of them darted down the halls of the prison. They encountered a few Fire Nation soldiers, but without their bending, they were absolutely useless against hand-to-hand combat. (Y/N) and Iroh quickly overpowered them and made their way outside. 

“Don’t look up!” Iroh shouted at her. He grabbed her hand and they ran as far away from the prison as they could. (Y/N) looked around and saw that the royal city had been completely emptied, no doubt to the bunker that extended underneath it. 

She and Iroh climbed over a hill and finally stopped to catch their breath. The clanging of swords against armor caught her attention and (Y/N) looked down to see Earth Kingdom and Water Tribe warriors fighting below them. She figured out instantly that this was the invasion and that meant that her friends must not be far away. 

“Come with me!” (Y/N) called to Iroh as she made her way down the slope. She turned to find him still standing at the top of the hill. 

“I must go another way. I will be alright. Go, reunite with your friends.” He gave her a big smile before disappearing on the other side of the hill. She didn’t hesitate. She ran down the hill, nearly breaking her ankles multiple times in the process, and ran up to the crowd surrounding the big hunk of armor that was undoubtedly Appa. 

“Hey!” She called out, waving her arms wildly. “Guys, it’s me!” 

Aang was the first one to notice her. He squinted his eyes to see who was running towards them. Once he realized, his face broke out into a big smile. “It’s (Y/N)!” He shouted. 

“(Y/N)?” Sokka exclaimed. He ran toward her and their bodies collided into a tight embrace. 

“You almost knocked me over,” (Y/N) laughed. Sokka pulled away and kissed her quickly. 

“I’m never, ever letting go again.” (Y/N) felt her face get hot but she had no time to hide it as she started getting bombarded by her friends. 

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” Katara sobbed into (Y/N). She held her friend tight, her own eyes pooling with tears. 

“Katara, it’s okay. I don’t blame you one bit. I’m the one who told you to go.” She turned to Aang and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “If I hadn’t, we wouldn’t have this guy around!” 

“You’re all squishing me!” Toph exclaimed. Somehow, the small girl had gotten herself in the middle of the group hug. (Y/N) grinned, pulling Toph close. 

“Toph! I thought I’d never be able to smell your stinky feet again!” Toph smiled and wrapped her arms around her midsection. 

“Don’t go getting imprisoned ever again,” Toph said. “You hear me?” 

(Y/N)’s cheeks hurt from how big she was smiling. “Alright Toph, but only since you asked.” 

---

I KNOW WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE. JUST KEEP TRUSTING ME.

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