#it knows exactly how and when to yank on your heart to make you weep like a baby | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eldritch-spouse · 1 year ago

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[Part 6 of Gifted. Fem reader.]

Previous poll winner: Try to lure the gargoyle (65.3%)

TW: Mild exhibitionism; Soft cum inflation.

New choice! [VOTE]

You can't help but think that pompous-looking blabbermouth isn't going to be of much help, especially not in the sour disposition he sports.

That leaves only one option- Paper bags McGee. Here goes nothing.

" Psst-! " You start, glancing hurriedly between his shadowed figure and the other two.

The gargoyle definitely hears you, pinprick eyes laser focused on you. Both heads look this way and that, even if the other one has no discernable hole to see through. It occurs to you it's a nervous tic, because he's trying to decide which direction to flee in. No, you can't let him leave! He's your only hope right now.

" Pspspspsps... " You don't know how to convince him, there's nothing on your person you can bribe him with. Even if you wanted to use your body as a lure, you can't convey that to him bound as you currently are.

The gargoyle starts to turn around hurriedly.

" No no hey-! " You strain upwards, as if that would help him hear your desperate whisper-screaming better. " Please- Get me out of here, please!

The head with that pinprick red pupil turns to glance at you again. You have no idea what to tell him, you're begging the monster, in total despair and hopelessness, there is nothing more you can do aside from helplessly and silently pleading with him.

Apparently, the monster can read the terror written all over you features, brought to stillness by the urgency you exhibit. It strikes him, for some reason. Spotting this, you try to exaggerate your expression, feeling like the bat you rode to climax only some time ago.

" ... Please... I'm scared. "

It takes a couple of seconds, during which you can feel sweat condensating on your forehead. Just buy it already, you oversized pussy of brute. Slowly, he turns back around on the roof and disappears into the darkness.

Did... Did he actually leave? Seriously?! After you got so close-

THUMP

You almost scream.

Heart skipping several beats -God, that can't be healthy- You get the urge to weep from joy once you spot that pinprick red glow emanating from the shadows. He landed! He's on the floor.

" Yes! " You murmur to yourself, watching the blue monster cautiously approach. He could be coming to tear you in two, for all your really know, but you'll take your chances at this point.

" Quickly! "

Casting one fearful glance at the caped demon, the gargoyle springs to action when he turns to apparently confiscate something off the small imp beside him.

He puts his palms on your legs very tentatively, as if afraid you'll bark at him. Curious. When he tugs, your body can only follow so far, as the strange construct keeping you tied to the bench protests. He puts two and two together fast, edging hard hands upwards before giving a harsh yank that you know is going to bruise later. But it does work, something snaps behind you with a wet noise, and you feel the binds around your upper body loosen to a degree.

For someone who was moving so slowly before, you're dragged off the bench and lumped onto his stony shoulder -Oof!- Faster than anticipated. God damn, he's more solid than you guessed! It's hard to think that something so heavy and dense can move exactly like flesh. You wish your hands were free so you could better gouge the texture of this peculiar skin.

As is, all you can do is try not to scream and trust the monster to have a good grip of you as he prepares to take flight. Now that you think about it, his wings should be a little bigger for his size, shouldn't they? They look... Underdeveloped. Well, you doubt any sort of benevolent god will listen, but you're just about ready to start praying for the best. Because, if he drops you from a decent height, without arms to brace important areas, you'll surely die.

Biting your lip is what grants you enough dignity to not make a scene, muffling the scream that would otherwise startle him into dropping you. The monster's grip on your waist is secure however.

His flight is clumsy and terrifying, as you can very clearly sense him dangerously losing balance at several points, tense like a spring and sweating up a storm while the monster visibly struggles, his little wings trying their best to carry not just him -Already quite the burden- But also you. At some point, you merely close your eyes. Whatever happens happens. Perhaps that's why he was hesitant to come down, he knew he'd have trouble getting back up.

Now more than ever, the chill in the air gets to you, skin covered in goosebumps while he scrabbles to find purchase and lands with less grace than a newborn gazelle. Unlatched from the monster's hold, you're gently deposited on mildly soft, foreign material. Confusion has you finally cracking an eye open.

You must be on the roof, the darkened tiles around confirm it, not to mention how the fog seems thicker from this height. A curious glance down reveals you've been sat on what you think is meant to be nest. Sticks, foreign fur, feathers and several cloths bundled together make up a rather large "bedding", nestled on a corner of a flat part of the roof which then elevates into another gable roof. If you were a gargoyle, you'd probably pick this spot too.

Speaking of, your rescuer, it seems, is apparently stuck staring at you like a deer in headlights.

You can just about see the gears turning in those heads. He got you up here, but he didn't think ahead too much. Obviously, it's imperative you don't let him linger in this contemplative state. He might get funny ideas and dump you back onto the ground, or decide to kill you.

In this proximity, you can finally gouge what the reddish things around his necks is supposed to be. A collar. Does... Is he someone's pet? But he's no animal! He's so much smarter than one, if this monster were no more than a beast, then surely none of this would have transpired, you'd be a bloody stain on the bench by now. Weird. Squinting, you strain to read what's written on the shiny metal tag.

" Pebble. " You start.

Pebble. Pebble? Are you fucking serious? What a name, a snort almost makes it past your lips. Yeah right, he's totally the size of one. The winged monster tenses at the mention of his name.

" Can you please help me out of these? " You flex your arms for emphasis, displaying the strange growths that are reluctant to free you even after being torn moments ago.

Pebble examines the weirdly-colored masses with as much puzzlement as you, exchanging a couple of anxious looks with you before raising one large stoned arm and swiping it down. The speed of it has you wincing and reclining your neck, thankfully not harmed, though the biological constructs around your upper body squirm and... Squeak? Before flopping apart. The opportunity is seized to roll your joints and expand your ribcage, instead of questioning what the Hell those things are.

Seemingly subscribing to your logic, Pebble doesn't give the pinkish things much thought either, grabbing them by the edges as they bleed something unknown onto the roof and flicking them away. One of the longer pieces is launched at another stray gargoyle who wandered a touch too close for Pebble's liking, being met with hissing and guttural snarling from the monster who you have only seen cowering up until now. Huh.

The other gargoyle snorts at the hit and scurries off. How odd, it was smaller than Pebble. Less shapely too, more grayish. You suppose there must be a wild variety of gargoyles out there, just as there are slimes of every shape and color. Seeing your alleged rescuer from the back reveals that, along with two heads, he sports two thin spade-tipped tails.

Well, you're free of binds now, but not exactly free to leave. After all, there's no way you can jump down from this height without breaking something. And even if you did manage to land without immediate skeletal damage, the chances of there being grubby hands out to catch you are high. Just the mental image of being snatched and tugged at by all ends as monsters fight over who gets to keep you is horrid enough to make sure you stay seated firmly in Pebble's wide nest. It's not like you trust yourself to scale the roof either. You're stuck. Back to square one.

God damn it.

Your sigh alerts the other one, who instantly turns to keep you fully in his gaze. Once more, he's nervously appraising you. What is he- Scared you'll bite him? Who hurt this monster so bad that he'll tremble before a little human like you?

Still determined to not let him think over the situation for too long, you extend a hand and sedately reach for one of his. The movement is slow enough that Pebble can reject it at any moment, yet he merely appears to tense, anticipation and dread visibly warring within him.

Soft fingers prod over what feels like solid stone but moves like real skin. You tickle at his palm absent-mindedly, marveling at the way creases of what would be skin still form when he twitches his fingers. Amazing. Apparently, the contact soothes the gargoyle, or maybe incites his own brand of curiosity, because he's closing the distance.

Sniffing rings out when the monster gets close, heads hovering over your own, leaning this way and that as the monster clearly tries to profile you via scent. You can only imagine you reek of Grimbly, sweat and sex. But who knows, maybe he's picking up on something else. Your hair fans out while he takes his time, chest expanding. Not the most pleasant of breaths, but it could be worse. Mostly, you have no issues staying still while the gargoyle familiarizes himself, going as far as to giggle when he starts to prod at your face and neck, paper bags crumpling.

You won't lie, a bit of a thrill starts taking hold of you when his increasingly eager exploration leads the gargoyle to loom over your front, body casting a great shadow upon you, wings spreading, as he shoves his heads onto your chest and abdomen. You can feel hard structures poking your skin where there's contact. Perhaps it's his teeth, or nose. You have no idea what his faces look like, and you're far from brave enough to dare lift those bags. It doesn't seem like a good idea to test your luck in a place that's so very eager to sink its claws into your neck.

Your giggling appears to please the monster, though it soon tapers off into a gasp as something slimy flattens over your dress. From beneath the bag with no holes on the front hangs a surprisingly long tongue, dribbling like a faulty faucet while he tastes the fabric of your clothes. You can't imagine it's particularly pleasant... The muscle trails a path up and dips into your cleavage for a second, causing you to squirm and heat up again. Fast. Your reactions are always too fast and you're not very keen on this jarring loss of control. It's as if every time someone comes along and brushes over you, you can't help but light up, set aflame instantly.

" P- Pebble... "

You don't really know what you're asking him for. Nor do you care to linger on that muddled thought.

The gargoyle, having become nothing short of enthusiastic in the brief time he took to smell you, dips to your nethers, clumsily prodding at your legs until you uncross them on his nest. You know you're starting to get wet, there's no use denying it, you're not yourself today and your body merely reflects it. Both heads seem to war for which one gets to stuff itself against your shielded cunt, his tails dance and twine with each other in the air. Well, if he's content to just fondle you through your clothes, it's far from the worst thing that's happened today. So there's that.

Of course, after all that has transpired, you'd be a fool to place any sort of merit to that statement. Because, predictably, when Pebble straightens up, you spot a fat length between his legs. In great contrast to the gargoyle's pretty azure tint, his cock is a bright red hue that stands out like a sore thumb. Knubs adorn it, along with what you can only assume is a worryingly-sized knot sitting comfortably on the root of that throbbing thing. It's... Well, like most of the monsters who have taken a liking to you today, nothing to sneeze at. Nevertheless, in that moment, you know this stone giant won't rest until he gets more.

The gargoyle seems to be thinking, though less nervously so for once. You're not too sure what's going through his head, considering the monster hasn't spoken a word to you thus far -Maybe it can't- But he nods to himself on both ends after a while. You're only privy to the meaning of such when Pebble grabs the hem of your dress and, instead of tearing it off as you expected, drapes it over his upper half.

Oh-kay...

Crawling forward, the bulky monster makes himself at home right between your legs, face to face with your uncovered pussy, you imagine. Another weird snort sniff noise and, a blue hand crawls upwards too, and you finally realize why he's doing things like this. When the sound of paper rustling is heard, you know he has edged those bags out of the way. Well then, that's one way to deal with timidity. Is what lies beneath those rudimentary coverings truly so horrible? You'd best not wonder.

Or rather, you're not given time to wonder.

The same tongue that sampled you once before now returns with a fervor, edging up your right thigh before slapping onto your cunt. It circles around your entrance, perhaps afraid of something for a brief moment, then flirts with the wetness you've been trying to ignore. Pebble makes a loud rumble, which tapers off into a gleeful moan. Thankfully, he's gentle when he slides a good chunk of his tongue up your used pussy. It's strange- Although he comes off as inexperienced, his demeanor isn't brutish, which is something you can appreciate after today's events.

As life has it lately, your inner monolog jinxes you.

Because Pebble finds a particular taste inside your walls. Something that definitely belongs to the pretty boy you railed on a certain bench. His immediate chuff is ambiguous, your legs are pushed further apart and the gargoyle starts eating you out ravenously. Thighs twitching and arms trembling, you have nothing to hold onto but the protrusions of his horns, grasping them for balance through the thin dress fabric while you moan quietly.

Perhaps eating you out isn't the best description, it feels more as if he's cleaning you out. Removing the mark of the male that claimed you prior. The drool he ends up slathering you in during such efforts is cold, coating your nethers and staining his nest as you squirm. Between his eager panting, your whining and the wet claps of flesh of flesh, you can only hope the bystanders below are oblivious to what's happening.

Not that you honestly care too much at this point. It's just an afterthought for your own safety.

Needily bucking your hips onto the monster's tongue is met with a distorted purr as both heads nuzzle against you, odd shapes poking at soft skin. Misaligned teeth perhaps? If so, he's being very gentle not to nick you on them. Something else joins the commotion beneath your pink dress. Ah, his other tongue? Right, he does have two heads, that makes sense.

The appendage, just as slimy as its twin, trails a path up the opposite leg and slobbers the side of your now quivering pussy, denied entrance by its twin as of now. Perhaps for the best, you don't know if you can take two of those fat tongues at once. Instead, it samples everything around itself, from outer lips to wedging itself between your cheeks and circling the rim of your ass, then snaking a sloppy path back up to slurp above. When it nudges your clit, somehow not exhausted after all this time, you jerk up and gasp, an incoherent noise leaving you as you tug one of the heads closer by its horns.

He misinterprets it as pain, whining out in what you assume is meant to be an apology and beginning to retract said tongue.

" Wait- Wait no, that's good! K-Keep going. "

Fortunately, he does, rather clumsily experimenting with different patterns around your button while the other muscle resumes its cleaning, a surprising level of coordination between the two movements.

The rest of the world melts off your mind in the midst of this mildly gross, but relentless attention to your womanhood. Your soft noises of approval are eaten up by the large gargoyle, whose tails swat and thump at the roof. At some point, you catch sight of his hips moving, and realize the poor thing is so excited he's basically humping the air, panting and shuddering against your pussy, the humidity and warmth accumulating beneath your dress making you sweat. You don't think Pebble gets a lot of attention from others here, he's acting like it at least. Those aimless pumps get you to giggle in between whining.

His tongue retracts from your now clenching hole and the other takes its place, only to slip out a while later. You realize, with a bit of amusement, that he's using both to eat you out, the greedy mutt. Where one darts in, the other waits for its turn, creating a rhythm you didn't think could feel as amazing as it does. God fuck, you're going to come. It's no surprise you're getting worked up so fast either, after the tryst with the waiter that left you high and dry.

One of your hands hurriedly darts to reach under your dress, searching frantically for the monster's own stony one, intending to teach him to flick your clitoris while he works. When it accidentally brushes the side of one of his paper bags however, Pebble chokes and snarls gutturally. You know the sound was aggressive, but your cunt clenched hard, the vibrations rocking your entire body and dragging a jarring orgasm out of you.

The howl you release to the wind is shameful, loud enough that some of the murmuring coming from below pauses entirely, people presumably left confused, or maybe wondering where the show is taking place... You couldn't give less of crap about what's happening below, too busy arching in the gargoyle's mess of a nest and bucking your hips into his faces while he slurps at everything you have to give him. Pebble rumbles in excitement, though slips off your entrance far too quick for your liking, leaving you to pulse through some ripples of pleasure all empty.

The groan of displeasure you make at having a high cut short is interrupted by the monster's intense purring rumble as he uses both heads to nudge you onto your back on his now soaked nest, headbutting you insistently when you merely sway.

" Alright alright okay- " You acquiesce, hormone-drunk, without even thinking too hard about what he wants.

The moment your head rests on that mess of cloths and feathers, you yawn and stretch, laughing quietly when all the gargoyle does for a moment is observe your lying figure, tails wagging and cock throbbing. It's oddly adorable, as if he's wondering how he got a catch like you on his nest.

In a blink however, the male finally decides what to do, grabbing you by the thighs and dragging you closer. Alarm bells start ringing when he pushes your legs up, raising your ass off the nest and pushing them towards your upper body in a position that you worry might strain your back. " H-Hey now? " You call, offering the monster a gaze that implores his caution.

You realize the type of position he's going for when he squats above you, veiled faces peering down at your small frame above the stone hills that are his tits -He's massive and this view really accentuates it- A swollen red cock parked on your outer lips. You're not sure how much you trust this gargoyle not to harm you in this vulnerable position.

" L- Look at me. " You start, balling your dress up at your waist and keeping yourself as well balanced on the edge of his nest as you can. The monster tilts both heads, listening. " Be gentle, o-okay? Slow. Play nice. "

Slightly fearful hues dart between his glowing crimson eye and the length pulsing on your core. You don't think this stone being has the sadism necessary to pull a stunt like Morell, but you have to gouge him anyway. After a couple of tense seconds, Pebble chuffs and nods, wings flapping sporadically as he readjusts.

You get to see the muscles of thoses powerful legs tense when he lines the tip of his cock up and starts pushing, trembling as your pussy welcomes him with few stings of pain at the stretch, having already been thoroughly worked out for the day. Nonetheless, he's still quite girthy, each ridge bumping inside you with each quick little hump he makes to bury his whole cock inside your warmth. Well, most of it, that bulb at the root remains untouched. You can't help but think it'd be easier to take if it wasn't so swollen already.

Pebble makes garbled low cries from both heads at the sensation of being enveloped, squeezing at your legs to ground himself for a heaving moment. He glances down for a second, making sure you're okay it seems, gratified by your teary-eyed, needy expression. Each sweetly torturous drag of his length on your walls is experimental, but the male quickly finds his rhythm the wetter you get, having no issue holding his own weight as he begins to piston down.

Each thrust is deep. Pebble seems reluctant to remove most of his dick from the tight hole he's found, more intent on grinding and rutting desperately than going for deeper, more languid motions. And you can't blame the guy, he seems beyond excited to have anyone in his nest, probably too giddy to drag things out too.

Your earlier doubts considering the safety of this position fade away to nothing but bliss as you realize he's hitting a lot deeper than what's expected, his tip kissing wonderful spots that have your toes curling and brows furrowing, head tossed to let out clipped appreciation noises. Sure, it's a little harder to breathe, but fuck if it isn't worth it. Maybe the gargoyle knows exactly what he's doing, maybe he just enjoys the view. When droplets of his drool fall onto your cheek and neck, you presume it's a bit of both.

The monster's ragged panting turns to strained growls as he picks up the pace, now truly pistoning with the great power behind those taught legs, claws scraping the tiles of the roof for better purchase.

" O- Ohh fff- Ah! Deep! " Is the stellar commentary you have to offer, the gentle nudges of before becoming a relentless hammering of several bundles of nerves that have you twitching and blinking stupidly, lost in a barrage of sensation.

Between his occasional mewled groan, slapping and flapping wings, you can hear the repeated jingling of the dog tag on his collar, bouncing with each rut. It brings you out of the experience for a brief second, giving way for a faint level of awareness in which your sixth sense blares warning sirens. It takes a bit, but your skin breaks out in goosebumps when instincts tell you something's looming, watching.

Frantic eyes dart around, vision somewhat impaired by the blur of your form being jostled by Pebble's enthusiastic fucking, but there, on the wall that escalates into the top roof, is a tall window. From behind it stands a silent figure, witness to the debauchery happening far too close. Your already overheated body sets ablaze the second you recognize who it is. The cloaked guy from before, the one who found you alongside Grimbly. God damn it, he just has to be everywhere, doesn't he?

His head tilts, and you can tell he's somehow returning your eye contact intensely.

It's hard to imagine what must be going through his head, seeing you get tossed around between his coworkers like a free use toy -Which, let's face it, in the current state of things that is essentially what you've become- Only to end up sprawled out on the roof, being bred silly by a bizarre gargoyle. What does he think of you? It seemed like he wanted to take you away for himself earlier, maybe he's upset. Or maybe he's just really into the view. When Pebble bucks especially hard, you moan and flutter around him, making the monster speed his thrusts even more, bending over you slightly. A drawn-out sort of hum has strands of drool hanging dangerously close to your face again.

When you have the composure to search for the window again, still finding the voyeur there, the bump in his robes definitely doesn't go unnoticed. You hate that it only excites you further, that the pleasant shock of his presumed size is written all over your face. As if some part of your lower brain expects him to climb out the fucking window and shove himself in your mouth. You're depraved.

Sharp as he appears to be, the hooded figure knows exactly where you're looking with those glazed eyes, ash-colored fingers flirting with his own covered length before you. It's a promise. It's a filthy little lure- And if Pebble wasn't plowing you so good, you'd probably have crawled the roofs on your own for him.

Speaking of, he's getting a little too rough. Or maybe you're just sore and finally beginning to feel it all, it's hard to tell.

" Hahn- Slow down- Slow boy- Nnh fuck! "

He's not listening, even when you drag a hand up the gargoyle's hard abdomen, trying to ground the softly growling thing, all he does is lean into the touch and strain to fuck you deeper, probably taking the contact as encouragement. And, honestly, when the waves of a rapidly building orgasm start rocking you again, it's hard to care. Groping at the monster while he stretches you out is more gratifying. You're licking your lips in anticipation when the glow coming from his paper bag veil brightens and he seems to steam hot puffs of breath out, fanning the edges of the thin tissue.

Pebble isn't asking you for permission, but you nod at him anyway. He makes a strangled bray that quickly becomes a howl, and fucks down with a force that leaves you winded. There's a pause, and for a couple of vapid seconds, you don't quite grasp why he stopped moving, and why he isn't filling you yet. Then the pressure starts.

Your eyes bulge, and only now do you recall the shape stationed at his base, the thing he's now trying to push into you. Naturally, hormones and slight dread have you squirming under the monster, wondering if that's safe at all to take, but the gargoyle has an iron grip of your legs, giving out warning chuffs.

" Wait! Wait wait wait- PEBBLE! "

You scream to the skies as soon as soon as he forces the entire thing in with one devastating blow, popping that fat knot into your cunt mercilessly. The stimulation is so fast and so intense that your second orgasm hits you like a punch to the gut, rendering you a squealing, mewling mess around the other. Pebble makes his own desperate noises of approval, his entire girth seeming to pulse and throb inside you -Knot included- As what you can only describe as a torrent of cum washes your insides. He grinds himself aimlessly in the midst of both your highs, slowly, so as to not overstimulate himself.

As you lay there, legs twitching and heaving for breath, the gargoyle reaches a shaky arm out to pet you on the head soothingly. He looks aware that this is hard to handle for a human, wanting to reward you in some way or another. The fact that he seemingly keeps cumming should worry you, yet the arousal lingering within you welcomes everything he has to offer.

Predictably, when the frenzy of lust starts dying down and you both have recovered a fair amount, you look at your visibly swollen womb and pale a couple shades. Holy shit that's all him, that's way too much... He's not in heat, is he? You can feel it all pooling inside your body, a foreign weighted warmth. Comforting in an obscene way.

The exhaustion of being in this position for a prolonged amount of time starts getting to you in a couple of minutes, at which you tap Pebble's leg. He appears to get the message, but instead of pulling out, he whines and readjusts, letting you rest more of your body on the nest while he blankets your body. Much to your increasing surprise, Pebble extends his small wings and uses them to shield you from the world, resting his upper body onto you.

Is he... Is he just not going to pull out?

Given his massive weight, even if the monster's taking care not to crush his little nest mate, he's in no position to be dislodged. When his breathing slows, you grow alarmed. If the gargoyle decides to settle down and sleep now, how are you supposed to find your way back down, without severely injuring yourself that is?

" Hey. Hey now, Pebble. " He doesn't give much of a response beyond chuffing. " Pull out, please. " When there's no reaction, you assume he's blatantly ignoring you.

Annoyed, you actively start trying to squirm from beneath the gargoyle, though immediately, he makes a sharp cry of pain, the noise turning into a vicious snarl while he yanks you back into place, claws making it extremely clear you are not to move a single fucking millimeter. Alright, okay, message received.

Right. The knot... It's even more swollen inside of you now, plugging everything, there's no way you'll slip off it any time soon.

" Alright, o-okay okay! " Palms up seems to do the trick, placating him.

The gargoyle hums, veering his body slighlty to the side so as to not crush your ribcage when he settles down to rest. You groan, resigned to being trapped.

Time passes. As always, you can't be sure how much. It could be minutes, it could be hours. You can't sleep, not after falling unconscious several times. Instead, you stare at the sky, watching it get darker and darker, until the stars become visible behind the warp of the fog that seems to shroud this foreign establishment. Moving is a terrible idea. Even if your legs are going numb and you're the furthest thing from comfortable, the smallest shift might trigger another fit from him.

It's not your immediate safety that has you concerned about the events. After all, he's shielding you somewhat, and Pebble is significantly bigger than the other gargoyle you saw, so chances are you're much safer on this roof than you would be on the ground, where people have gathered. Of course, you're not exactly thrilled by the notion that your goal of making it out of here is getting delayed further, slipping out of your fingers the more you stall, like grains of sand.

Pebble sleeps, both heads snoring softly beside you, tails twitching, hips occasionally rutting. In a moment of blind hope, your head snaps up to search for the tall window from before, praying the hooded figure is still there. It's completely abandoned. Figures, that would be too easy.

Having nothing to do and no means to pass the time, you fantasize about what you would rather be doing, what you need to do as soon as you make it out of this blasted place -If you ever do, a small voice pipes up. What kind of therapy can help you get over this? Have you been changed forever? Would people believe you?

Is this real?

The sound of sudden loud flapping has you wide alert. Brought out of focus, you can't tell where or who it's coming from, so you cling to Pebble's back in fear. Perhaps it's another gargoyle, having come to pick at the scraps. Your scared whimper causes the male to stir awake as well, making disgruntled sounds when something lands not too far away.

A pallid white figure dressed in black.

It's only after a pause of vapid squinting that your brain registers who that is. The angel. Or, at least, that's the only thing you can think to compare him to. He's a mystery to you, only recalling vague instances of his demeanor, when the day was still young and you had been spit out onto the floor by a startled mimic.

He stands straight, a firm grip on his staff, three eyes scrutinizing the sight before him silently. Not that there's much complexity to it, you're being held captive in the nest of the gargoyle that happily bred you stupid. Now that you're getting a second look at the guy, the feathers on his wings are as white as the ones on Pebble's nest. They know each other? Well, if the two-headed monster isn't freaking out, you'll assume so.

He is tense however, it's hard not to sense that when he's glued to your front.

" For goodness' sake- " A lightly furred hand drags down his peculiarly shaped face. " This is where I find you, of all places? "

The fucking nerve of this dude.

It was either the gargoyle or the spiky-haired demon that looked more likely to use you as a human carpet than be remotely helpful. He's looking at you as if you decided to come here of your own volition, to get roped into a bunch of sexual escapades for funsies- Like it's a hobby of yours.

" ... Would you rather find me dead in your cook's kitchen? Torn to pieces in this garden? " Hiding the snark in your tone proves itself to be harder than expected.

He glares at you, a decidedly intense look that inspires a primal wave fear in your body. " Quiet. " The angel's attention shifts to your nest-partner. " Pebble. Release the woman. "

Pebble's only reaction is to stare at the other monster and clutch you closer to a sturdy body. Something about the red dot that comprises his eye reads as a warning.

The angel scoffs. " Don't be ridiculous, come now. We don't have time for this. "

When he steps forward, he's instantly greeted with a nasty, vicious rattle of a snarl that has you freezing for a long moment. Jesus fuck, so that's what he sounds like when he's actually angry.

The angel reels back, lavender eyes widened in shock and mild hurt, though humorously, his chest appears to puff in an instinctual response to the aggressive call. " Pebble?! What is the meaning of this! "

The gargoyle seems to cower for a second, but it can't escape the situation, and the squeezing you feel makes it clear he doesn't want to let go either.

" Release her. Now. " The staff is slammed onto the tiles, ringing. You can feel the atmosphere get really tense and you're not sure how much danger you're currently in either. Might as well try to de-escalate it.

" I- We... We're stuck. " You murmur. He's slightly deflated, giving your pussy a bit of relief, but not enough for his exit to be painless.

The other blinks, his posture slouches slightly, exasperation making him tug at a growth on the back of his head. " Krulu give me strength. "

Who?

" Pebble. I know you like the girl, she's a very pretty lesser, yes. " He starts, gentler in his approach. " But the girl is special, you know? We need her. U-Untangle yourself from her. "

Did... Did he just stutter when telling the gargoyle to pull out? Okay then.

Despite his efforts, the other male doesn't seem quite convinced, snort-growling intensely.

" You've forced my hand. "

The pale monster sighs, his wings rise high and open swiftly, a challenging display if you've ever seen one before. His eyes start glowing, the brightness causing your head to pound, an ear-splitting ringing forcing you to look away and instinctively shield your head. Pebble seems afflicted as well, peeling back from you as far as he can, still connected to you by the pelvis.

By the time you recover from whatever the fuck that horrifying thing was, you find yourself being held above the now lying gargoyle by a chalk-white arm coiled around your abdomen, another holding the sharpened edge of an axe down to Pebble's throats. The gargoyle's furious noises turn to quiet whimpers, he looks mortally frightened.

" Our lord is very disappointed in you. " The angel tuts. " Do not move. "

Next, he addresses you. " Brace as hard as you need to, but I must... Dislodge you two. "

Again with the hesitation. This monster's surrounded by sex and depravity, and yet he his language is so flowery. Regardless, you take his advice to heart, wondering who this "lord" is, while you inhale and wait.

The yank upwards has both you and Pebble keening in pain, the angel stuttering something incoherent and awkward behind you two before he tugs again, harder, and that red cock pops out of you with a miserable sting.

" Mother of FUCK- "

" Language, you depraved thing! " He squawks.

Said misery is followed by an incredible wave of relief as accumulated cum seeps out of you like an obscene cascade, coating the gargoyle's still hard length, making a mess of both of your thighs. Each oozing glob has you panting and shuddering in alleviation. Finally, the bump in your lower abdomen recedes, thank god.

It's clear the angel doesn't really know what to do with you in this state. In fact, when you glance at him, those three eyes are all laser focused on your gushing cunt, frozen there. Pebble breaks the awkward moment by batting the staff away and scrambling out from beneath you, soaked in his own cum, clumsily darting to the shadows. You can hear him take off to the ground while the remaining monster helps you stand straighter.

A terrible idea, as even more globs of cum drip down your legs. It's a shameful sensation, you can only clench to try and helplessly stop the flow.

" U- Unbelievable. Cover yourself, what a disgrace. " The angel fusses, sharply averting his gaze. You note, interestingly, that his fur seems to be fluffing further and further as this goes on. Flustered perhaps?

The moment your crumpled dress is rearranged, now but a mockery of what it once was, the angel slides his staff behind his back and holds you bridal style, the eyes on his head decidedly still looking away from your debauched state even as he takes flight and lands, a lot more smoothly than the gargoyle thakfully.

You'd ask how he did that without looking forward, but then recall the third eye on his chest, the one that is now staring back at you. You can't help but think it's beautiful, in a very inhuman, striking way.

As soon as you're on the ground, the small crowd of mostly demons starts heckling the angel, which, in hindsight, shouldn't really be a surprise. Raunchy comments about him wanting sloppy seconds and being just as pervy as the rest of them are swiftly ignored, anyone who gets too close is quickly swatted away by powerful wings.

A frown takes over your face when he carries you back inside that rotten shithole, though you had yet to see the entrance of the place. This breed between a lounge and a game room, several pool tables and whatnot spread around the large place. Though, sitting squarely in the middle is what must be the main attraction, a fancy, stylish looking bar with all manner of drinks advertised, many of which you don't recognize. But you do recognize the loosely shaped yellow figure operating it, the yellow slime. As if thinking about him is enough to summon his attention, a piercing red eye finds you with eerie precision, pinkish green widening as he waves.

Creepy fucker.

" Let- Let me down, please. " You try, not liking that you're being carried around to who knows where.

" No. You have trotted around enough today. It is time to put an end to this. " You don't like the sound of that, even less so when he gets into the elevator.

" But where are you taking me? "

He pushes a button and stands firmly, the two of you try to ignore the sound of cum droplets hitting the ground. You're sure you've been making a little trail this whole time.

" To a spare room. "

Again?! How many times will you land on one of those? What for? Is that supposed to be your waiting room before another sickfuck comes to fetch the human for their own entertainment? Or is he just going to lock you in a random room for the rest of the night?

Sure enough, when the elevator doors part, you recognize the long hall of doors as the same one the incubus lead you to. He opens one of the nearest doors in a rush, fast enough that you couldn't catch the number, and deposits you carelessly on the bed.

It's a much less lavish room than Santi's. Barren almost. All dark minimalist tones you don't care for. You hold onto the purple sheets and pull yourself up, ready to try to plead with the winged monster when he makes a b-line for the door again.

" Wait! Don't just- "

He interrupts you, sharply turning around. " You are to stay here and behave until lady Admin comes to collect you, am I understood? "

Although his tone is serious, and you recall hearing the name "Admin" somewhere already since the start of this mess, your stare drops to the outline of his hardness and you can't take him seriously anymore. Given how tight to the skin his outfit is, not a lot is left to the imagination, giving away a flat-headed shape and decent proportions. Is he even aware of his own state? As a matter of fact, his fur is still fluffed. Seeing the results of you getting busy with Pebble was enough to put him in that state?

" ... You're hard. "

The angel blinks several times, glancing down at himself, meeting his own neglected dick. You nearly cackle at the dumbfounded look he offers it, as if questioning why it exists. At the smallest hint of your quiet snickering, large wings fan themselves to cover his front. He recovers quickly, you'll give him that.

" Nonsense lesser, don't be disgusting. Stay absolutely still, I will come back. "

He intended to look irritated, but the way he struggles with the door knob and scurries out the room betrays great shame. The door shuts and there's a distinct click. You curse out loud.

Bastard locked it.

Fuck... What do you do now?

Well, you can't just stay still like a sitting duck, waiting to possibly die. You only have a few cards left to play here, which means the stakes are higher this time. Either you bet on trying to find a way out of this room, or you have to disorient the angel somehow.

On the one hand, this entire location is bizarre. It definitely doesn't obey the logic and laws of reality as you know it, if the garden's structure is any indication. So chances are that, maybe, you can find something here that'll help you break out of the room, somehow. A loophole.

On the other, that angel... He's already flustered and feeling awkward, maybe if you push the right buttons, you can get him to lead you somewhere else, can trick him. Maybe he's your ticket out.

#Pebble oc #Belo oc #terato #monster x reader #yandere monster #yandere teratophilia #terat0philliac #monsterfucker #monster smut

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mykneeshurt · 2 years ago

Text

Denial

König x F!reader

As chosen by my lovely blorbos and followers 👹

Warnings - 18+, minors DNI, explicit smut ahead

It can be a surprise for you so no more warnings

Staring at the clock it read 02:00, he should be home soon. Excitement brewed in your stomach at the thought of your boyfriend finally finishing his 4 month long mission. Finally being in the same country as you. Finally being in the same room as you. Finally being about to touch you. It had been too long.

It had been too long for König too. Four months of you torturing him, sending him videos of you cumming on your fingers, on your toys. Moaning his name, your body writhing on the Egyptian cotton sheets of your shared bed. He'd pumped his cock far too many times to even get any satisfaction anymore. He needed to feel you, all of you.

Led on your side you heard the slam of a car door, a devilish grin spread over your lips. Knowing full well the four months of pictures and videos you sent him would have made him feral, you couldn’t wait for him to take the frustration out on you.

The front door slammed shut.

Heavy foot steps trudged up the wooden stairs, leading to your room.

Butterflies tickled your rib cage as they swarmed around your heart.

He was home.

The door opened, as you pretended to be asleep you heard him drop his bag down and go to the bathroom. The anticipation was killing you. The shower turned on and you heard the droplets of water smash against his skin. His warm soft skin. You kept facing away from the door still pretending to be asleep.

The shower switched off and you heard him drying himself off as he walked back into your shared room. The bed dropped as he slid in behind you, a soft grunt escaped his lips as he settled down. That’s when a strong arm encased your waist yanking you towards him. ‘I know you’re not sleeping maus’ he whispered, his breathed fanning over your skin. He placed a tender kiss behind your ear as he pulled you closer still.

You could feel his erection poking into your lower back, subconsciously you rolled you hips back into him. Still staying silent. He snaked his hand into your pyjama shorts and along you slit, pleasantly surprised to find you already soaking. ‘Already maus? Miss me that much?’ He taunted whilst he nipped your earlobe.

A quiet ‘yes’ broke from your lips as you turned your head to kiss him. Stopping you he hovered above your ear a devilish smirk on his face. ‘Not tonight, you really think you could send me those pictures and videos? And not get punished?’ A needy yet subtle whimper escaped from your chest at his words.

Dragging his finger along your slit his pressed on your clit, ‘what do good girls get?’ He asked, moving his finger in a delicate circle. ‘Good things’ you signed.

‘And what to bad girls get?’ He asked again, still making circle motions. ‘Nothing’ you whined, you’d missed his touch for so long you were half way to orgasm already. ‘Exactly’ he chided, and with that he removed his finger bringing it to his mouth, savouring your taste on his tongue.

Pulling your shorts down he placed his aching cock at your entrance. ‘Please König’ you half sobbed, knowing exactly what he was going to do. ‘Should have thought of this before you teased me for so long. You get nothing. I’m gonna cum … but you’re not.’

He proceeded to slide his cock up and down your weeping cunt, gathering your juices as he did so. It felt divine, he’d missed you terribly but now was his chance to get his own back. He knew how much you needed him, how much you longed for him to fuck you. But he’d make you wait. The tip of his cock hit your clit with every stroke, sending you closer and closer to orgasm. But he knew your body, he knew the signs.

Removing his cock from you he pumped himself, breathing heavily in your ear. Soft moans and groans brushed against your skin, sending goosebumps across your aching body. A string of curses left him as he gently pushed his tip against your hole, not daring to push in any further. You panted beneath him, trying to contain a sob that built up in your chest.

This was torture.

He kept this pattern going, making sure to keep his movements excruciatingly slow. Making sure you drive you to the edge only to pull away at the last minute. Had it been minutes? Hours? You had no clue, losing all concept of time. He nipped at your neck as he whimpered, blowing hot air through his pursed lips as be savoured the feeling. ‘Fuck … König …. Fuck please’ you finally choked out, ‘I can’t … please … please.’

Releasing his cock he placed his hand around your neck, squeezing gently. ‘Oh darling, I expected more. That you could take … more.’ His tone was evil, you felt him smile against your cheek as he pushed his cock through your thighs once more. Tears were stinging the corners of your eyes as he continued to thrust against you, rather than in you. ‘Maybe you’ll think twice about teasing me next time hmm?’

‘Fuck … yes … I’m sorry’ you cried out as his hand caressed your body, working its way back down to his cock. He was a stubborn prick, you knew damn well he wasn’t going to let you cum tonight. That he was going to teach you a lesson. You gripped his huge arm that lay beneath you, digging your nails into his skin. He hissed in your ear as he rolled his hips into you. ‘Now now, you chose this maus. Be a good girl and take it.’

His voice was thicker than tar, deep and possessive as he made sure he moaned against your ear. Making your hear how you made him feel, how you’d tortured him for months. His hand picked up pace as he pumped his cock, revelling in your pleas and moans of contempt and frustration.

He brought you to the edge so many times, but withdrawing as soon as he felt you clench against him. Tutting in your ear as you bucked your hips, trying feverishly to feel some relief. You felt him become sloppy, knowing he was close. He bit his lip as he came against your neglected hole. You felt his cock pulsate against you as his cum painted your aching cunt.

Tears of frustration fell from your eyes as you whined in disbelief. He placed another tender kiss behind your ear as he used his finger to push his cum into you. The sudden intrusion of his thick finger sent a jolt through your body as you gasped for air. A strangled moan left your throat as you threw you head back onto his chest. He scoffed against your neck ‘always so needy and pathetic aren’t you?’

‘Mmm hmm’ you just about managed to moan through your tightly pressed lips. Eyes screwed shut as you savoured the sensation.

As he removed his finger you let out another whine ‘I fucking hate you.’ He chuckled deeply as he turned your head to face him, hovering just above your lips you felt the fucker smile as he kissed you. ‘I know.’

——-

Taglist (those who showed interest in the original post) - @brewed-pangolin @bearsbeetsbeskar

Inspiration from this tik tok - https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGJmCNDVd/

#call of duty #cod mw22 #konig x you #konig mw2 #könig mw2 #könig smut #könig modern warfare #könig x reader #könig call of duty #cod mwii #call of duty mwii #könig fanfiction #könig x you

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caroldantops · 2 years ago

Text

leave you breathless (or with a nasty scar)

ship: naga!agatha harkness x reader

summary/request: there’s nothing agatha loves more than a good hunt.

word count: 947

warnings: smut (18+), dom!agatha, sub!reader, cnc (reads as dubcon at first, but everything is consensual play), pet names (bunny), primal play, breathplay/choking, bondage but like with snake body, vaginal sex (oral, mentions of penetration - reader receiving), mentions of breeding, mentions of oviposition, mentions of drugging, bloodplay if you squint

a/n: this one’s also for britt @scarlettwlw bc she rigged the votes last year :/

masterlist | monsterfucker celebration 2022 masterlist

Run.

"Oh, little bunny!"

Hide.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are!"

Breathe.

"You can't hide from me forever."

The sound of her slithering through the freshly fallen leaves is all you can hear as your breath catches in your throat. You try to steady your breathing, but you know that it's inevitable. Her forked tongue flicks out from between her pursed lips, narrowing down where you're hidden among all the bushes and trees.

You almost wish she'd just go in for the kill. The anticipation makes your heart bang against your ribcage, fear seeping into your veins. Agatha knows exactly where you are, she just loves to play with her food.

The forest falls silent. You refuse to let yourself fall into a false sense of security. But even on high alert, there’s nothing you can do as you suddenly feel something creeping around your ankles. The moment you register what it is, your feet are yanked out from under you. Your back would slam into the ground if not for the fact that you’re suddenly being lifted in the air.

The blood rushes to your head as you’re dangled upside-down for a moment, and your eyes struggle to adjust to the way the world spins around you as you’re flipped upright. Finally, the world comes into focus again, and you’re faced with the most beautiful woman you’ve ever laid eyes on.

“Gotcha, bunny.”

“Agatha, please,” you gasp as her serpentine half starts wrapping around your torso, cool scales against the exposed parts of your skin as your shirt rides up. Her tail wraps its way around your throat. You gasp and try to wriggle your arms free of her, but to no avail. “Please, let me go.”

“You’re spoiling me, bunny! You know how much I love when you beg,” Agatha emphasizes the word by tightening her hold on your throat, laughing at the way your eyes roll back. Her sharp fangs peek through, and you tremble thinking about how they’d feel sinking into your flesh. She takes your face in her hands, thumbs stroking over your cheeks tenderly. You struggled to say something that just comes out as a wheeze, and she gives you a fake pout. “Aw, how pathetic.”

Agatha allows you some reprieve, loosening her grip around your throat slightly. Her hands leave your face to tug at your jeans, practically ripping them in the process of yanking them down your thighs. Her lithe tongue darts out, and you practically see the arousal grow in her eyes.

“Oh, you’re fucking dripping. I can smell you already,” she moans. “Does it turn you on, being hunted like this? Does it make that pretty pussy weep just knowing how I could crush you before you could even ask me to spare you?”

“No…”

“No?” Agatha scoffs. “Please! You couldn’t even hide from me because that cunt of yours gave you away.”

You panic slightly as you’re lifted higher in the air, but she calms your worries with her hands on your thighs, assuring you that you won’t be dropped. You’re adjusted so that Agatha is free to place her torso between your legs. Her bare chest heaves as she admires your glistening cunt.

“You look so delicious, bunny. I could just swallow you whole.”

You gasp when her tongue finally meets your desperate pussy, thrashing against Agatha’s hold on you. She can’t resist wrapping her arms around your thighs, devoting her full attention to making you cry with pleasure. The split in her tongue feels absolutely heavenly as she licks you. She’s greatly amused with the way you try to buck against her when she flicks your clit into her mouth, fitting your throbbing bud in between the split of her tongue in the most electrifying way.

“Mistress, please,” you forget your role as the fog of pure pleasure clouds your brain. “Please, please, please. I need you.”

This is how the game always ends: you play the role of her pretty little prey, she threatens you as she hunts you down until you’re so turned on that she can smell your arousal from afar, and then you quickly break character as soon as her tongue is between your thighs and the promise of climax is on the table at last.

Agatha’s been especially mean tonight, prolonging your game of chase just because she loves the sound of your heartbeat picking up as she stalks her prey. Now that you’re past the point of begging for mercy and instead are begging for her to ruin you, she can’t help but bend to your wishes.

Not that she’d ever admit you had any control here.

“As much as I’d like to devour you right now,” Agatha pants, wiping your juices from her face with the back of her hand. She pulls you close so that you’re face to face again, deeply satisfied with how glazed over your eyes look. “I’d much rather bring you back home so I can properly gape this tight little hole of yours. Maybe if you’re good, I’ll even breed my bunny tonight. How’s that sound, sweet thing? You wanna be filled with my brood? All round with my eggs?”

“God, please,” you groan, subconsciously leaning toward her, seeking any sort of contact - even though you’re being cradled by her tail. Agatha complies, kissing you deeply and letting her fangs graze your bottom lip. You let out a surprised yelp at the feeling.

“Next time, maybe we should see if I can get you high on my venom, darling,” she hums, wiping the tiny bit of blood off of your lip with her thumb. “How’s that sound?”

“Anything you want, Mistress.”

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness smut #silver writes #silver's 2022 mf celebration #c: agatha

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aetheternity · 4 years ago

Text

Answer your damn phone. (NSFW)

Synopsis: Hange keeps calling while Levi's fucking his S/O so his S/O picks up and tells Hange to call back later cause Levi is, "Currently getting his cock drained." Levi responds by fucking his S/O into the mattress. "You know how much Hange's gonna annoy me later?" He grunts completely sheathing his cock. "Scream my name louder." He huffs "I don't think the neighbors can hear." He leans in closer to her ear. "You better make them think I'm killing you after the shit you just pulled."

Levi's teeth were gritted as he leaned his head forward, eyes shut tight. The prettiest tinge of pink bloomed against his cheeks. His fingers creating a permanent mark in your skin.

"Levi, Levi.." You shuddered over his cock.

His knees were bent against your sides as you roughly slammed yourself down on his cock. His hips coming up to greet you. The heat in your stomach heavy as Levi continued to hit your sweet spot on every thrust.

His hair bounced against his forehead, face covered in sweat. Beautiful grey eyes fluttering open a little when you let out a breathless gasp fingers digging into his chest as you leaned close. Your thighs squeezing together as you called out your impending orgasm.

You pleaded his name like a chorus off your lips. Fingers kneeding at your clit begging to push you over the edge. You grunted out some curse words and just as you were getting ready to burst Levi's phone illuminating the darkened room pausing your movements.

You both groaned out in unison. The rough press against your waist moving up to grip at your back. You weren't exactly counting the amount of times Levi's phone had gone off but it was definitely more than two and beyond annoying.

"Why don't you just turn it off!" You grumbled

"She'll come here if it just goes straight to voicemail. The stupid thing's on mute and she'll eventually tap herself out and stop calling." Levi replied, already moving his hips again.

"G-god.. j-just tell her to stop c-calling.." You tried over the heat reclaiming its place in your core.

"She'll come here. It'll b-eee a whole long c-onversation.."

Levi's eyes fell shut again and his lips parted over the word "shit". Breathing labored as you squeezed his thick cock inside your walls. And it was almost like nothing had stopped. Your fingers pushed their way over his forehead, brushing aside the strands of hair covering his temple.

"Almost there.." He gasped, his hands ran up your back to pull you close by your shoulders.

His hips were unrelenting and the bed creaked as your moans grew louder once again. He breathed every noise in his mouth onto your lips. Biting and sucking the already swollen flesh.

"Finish.. c-come on."

This time when Levi's phone went off he didn't even bother to pause. Still ramming his dick into your tight hole. But at this point you'd pretty much had enough. You wrenched the phone off the nightstand and only then did Levi pause in his movements.

"Yeah, Hange?" Levi stared up at you. Eyes wide, still darkened with lust. Hange's voice was elated though confused as she quickly came to the consensus that Levi wasn't the one who picked up.

"Where's Levi?" She questioned

You looked down at Levi with mild irritation. "Well, he can't come to the phone right now because he's busy getting his cock drained." Before Hange could even begin to reply you quickly hung up, turning Levi's phone off, placing it face down on the nightstand.

"Problem solved." You huffed

Levi didn't move, surprisingly enough Levi didn't say anything either. His lips slightly parted and his eyes narrowed. You felt yourself gulp as you let out a little confused murmur of his name.

He didn't say a word, quickly yanking you off his cock. A gasp falling off your lips as he slipped out. He placed your feet on the floor and at this point your actions slightly dawned on you.

"Levi.." You tried again an apologetic glint in your eyes.

He repositioned himself grabbing your hips from behind. In seconds a harsh hand was glued to your nape forcing you down onto the mattress. And in the same amount of time his dick was pressing all the way back into your taut pussy.

You let out a loud moan that honestly would've been embarrassingly loud if not for the accidentally edging over the course of about an hour.

When Levi's hips snapped into yours it made your knees buckle. Fingernails practically tearing the cotton sheets below you. It wasn't like Levi was never rough but it felt so different this time.

"You know how much Hange's gonna annoy me later?" He grunted as he spread your thighs further so he could be right in between them.

"I-I.." You let out a choked moan, head swimming with drunken pleasure.

His fingers so tight around the back of your neck probably drawing blood but you couldn't even begin to care. His dick so deep you felt like it was actually in your stomach. With his free hand he pressed down on your stomach making everything feel so much more compressed.

"Scream my name louder Y/N." He said "I don't think anyone can hear just how good you're getting it."

A tremble rode down your spine as you cried out his name over the heavily shaking furniture beneath you. That all too familiar heat pooled in your stomach and you felt your eyes shutting. You pleaded and begged, pussy tightening like a vise dangerously tight around his cock.

He was keeping it in pretty well until that point. Every noise on his lips beginning to fall like a crashing crescendo. Your toes curled against the floor and your heart was practically beating out of your chest.

"L-Levi! Levi!" You cried out

His growl so close to your ear drum it had you practically weeping. "Come on babe, make the neighbors think I'm murdering you."

It hit you in more than one way and when you came it hit hard. Your back arching up into him, legs shaking but he was still holding your neck in place. You sobbed his name out, immediately feeling sensitive after your orgasm but he kept his pace up.

The combined noises of your skin slapping together and the gasps Levi couldn't keep hidden echoed over the smooth paint of your bedroom. His cock twitched inside of you, whimpers falling off your lips as you knew what was coming.

"Fff-uck I'm cumming." The hand that had been wrapped around your nape fell next to your face and now the sheets actually did rip.

You glanced back as his hard grey eyes rolled upwards. Face awestruck at just how white his lip was between his teeth. Hair shiny where it molded to his face thanks to the sweat. Levi groaned, huffing out breaths against your head.

His hips stuttering forward as he came, abs contracting and expanding on your back. The ache in both of you finally filled.

"Fuck." You moaned as the last of his cum fed your clenching hole.

You were almost glad when he pulled out. Your body flush with so much heat you could barely breathe. His hands came up to your waist flipping you around and at first it seemed innocent until he was pulling you to the foot of the bed. Legs forcibly opened as he unabashedly slid back inside.

"L-levi?" You couldn't help how greedy your moan was.

The way he was shoving his cock into your pussy coupled with his rough fingers massaging your clit. He pulled himself up closer to your face, hips so merciless and swift you could already feel yourself cumming again.

Your head fell back and you screamed in time with the bed angrily banging against the wall.

"Pl-please Leeevvvii." Tears streamed down your face but he ignored you.

His free hand ran over your face to press a sweet kiss onto your lips as he pressed impossibly deeper. Incoherent noises wrenching from your throat. His fingertips burned and you craved something anything to cool your skin.

Your fingernails dug long grooves into his back and he hissed in delight. With one swift motion he quickly had both of your knees bent into the bed sheets.

When he leaned in again your heart practically froze. "Don't. Ever. Touch. My. Phone. Again." He grunted between every thrust.

"N-never."

"Hange'll be blowing up my phone for different reasons now." Levi groaned "It's your f-ucking fault."

You screamed an apology when his teeth sunk into your sweat soaked skin. Toes clenching as Levi's name left your lips for probably the millionth time tonight.

"Mm soooooo sorry.." You moaned breathlessly

"Not yet you aren't." He muffled his own moan by kissing your ear and it went straight to your already sopping wet pussy.

You threw your head back as he surprisingly sped up, head completely empty as you clenched and came around his cock. Quickly coupled with his own loud orgasm his thighs shaking uncontrollably.

You let out what had to be all the oxygen currently in your lungs with a loud exhale. Both of you practically jumping out of your skin as the headboard clattered to the ground behind you. Though Levi's shaky form stayed pressed tight against your body.

"Levi.. I'm sorry." You quickly apologized again.

His eyes stayed dark and his lips were tugging into a thin line. "I'm not done yet."

A couple hard knocks coming from downstairs made you both turn your head. "Please don't let it be the cops again.." You sighed your head flopping back on the mattress.

#aot x reader #aot smut #attack on titan levi #levi ackerman scenario #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman smut #levi x reader #levi x y/n #levi smut #levi aot #shingeki no kyoujin levi #levi ackerman #snk x reader

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jcwriting · 4 years ago

Text

There’s A First Time For Everything

summary ↬ namjoon has never had a blowjob before. you’re about to change that.

pairing ↬ idol!namjoon x reader

genre ↬ smut, pwp (im not kidding there is zero plot to this), fluff, (new) established relationship

word count ↬ 2.8k

warnings ↬ swearing, oral (m receiving), face fucking, choking, reader has a painful thigh kink (don’t we all), overuse of the word thigh

authors note ↬ listen,,,,i saw that picture of namjoon in shorts (you know the one) and i just,,,lost it. also, this is my first time posting fic for bts and im shitting bricks about it so pls be nice to me!!!!! i hope you enjoy this quick (thirsty) little ode to namjoon’s thighs. pls let me know what you think!

also, the gif above haunts me. everyday. okay, enjoy.

“I want to give you a blowjob.”

Namjoon choked on the swig of water he had just taken. The two of you were watching TV. Actually, Namjoon was watching TV. You were sitting on the floor at the coffee table with your laptop out to answer some work emails. But, you were distracted. Specifically by Namjoon’s shorts. More specifically, Namjoon’s thighs in said shorts. The smooth golden skin was begging for your lips and your fingers itched to scratch your nails down to his knees. Then, your eyes naturally glided further up to the apex of his thighs. Where you knew his cock was resting. Again, just begging to be in your mouth. The thought of your jaw and throat aching while he lost it above you consumed your mind. All hope was lost then.

“You…um. Sorry. You want to do that?”

You cocked your head to the side. “Uh, yeah. Wait, did you want me to ask? I’ll ask. Can I give you a blowjob? Please?”

Namjoon chuckled. “No, no. You don’t have to ask. It’s just, y’know, are you sure?”

“Yes,” you said slowly. What was he not getting? “Do you not want one?”

“No! No, oh my god. I want that. I definitely want that. That’s not the issue.”

“Then, what is?”

Namjoon blew out a breath that fluttered the hair that rested on his forehead. He cupped the back of his neck and rubbed awkwardly. “I’ve never had someone do that to me before. So-”

“What?” You would have been less shocked if he had told you that he was a closeted furry. The two of you had only been dating for about a month so the in-depth what things did your ex do in bed conversation hadn’t been fully fleshed out yet. You knew he had lost his virginity to his previous girlfriend and they had had a healthy sex life, so you had just assumed that him receiving oral was part of that. Yet…this man, this absolute Adonis of a man had never gotten his cock sucked? It was the most absurd thing you had ever heard in your life. “Hold on. You had a girlfriend before me, right? She didn’t go down on you? Ever?”

Namjoon looked like he wanted the couch to swallow him whole but you barely noticed. You were too busy experiencing the shock of your fucking life. “I did. But she - uh, no. She didn’t want to and I didn’t want to pressure her.”

Your heart melted a little before you shut your laptop. Healthy sex life your ass. You were sucking this mans dick and that was final. “I’m going to give you a blowjob, Namjoon. Right now.” You turned to him and began crawling forward. His eyes flew to your ass that swayed in the air and he audibly swallowed. “If you don’t want me to then you need to tell me within the next thirty seconds.”

“Oh God,” he whimpered and spread his legs a little wider. You were salivating. “Yes. As long as you’re sure-” Whatever he was going to say was cut off by a heavy groan as your hands slid up his thighs. Finally, you smiled to yourself as you bent your fingers and allowed your nails to dig into the meat of his inner thigh.

“I have a thing for your thighs,” you murmured. “Never realized I had a thigh kink until I met you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I want to ride your thighs. Will you let me?”

“God, yes.” Namjoon went to reach for your arms but you batted his hands away. This wasn’t about you right now. This was about him. You reached for your hair and quickly pulled it into a sloppy bun. His eyes followed your movements and you didn’t miss how the bulge in his shorts twitched.

“I need you to tell me if I do something that you don’t like, okay? I want to make you feel good. Don’t be afraid to talk to me. If you like something, let me know. If not, then definitely let me know.” Namjoon nodded feverishly. His eyes were almost black and his chest was straining against his white top. You smirked to yourself. This was going to be fun.

Bending down, you pressed a kiss to the top of his thigh. Your mouth dragged along his skin and you relished in the way he quivered beneath you. Following the seam of his leg before doing the same on the other. Nails pressed little crescent moons into his flesh before your thumbs smoothed over the marks. Your nose lifted the loose material of his shorts up to his hips and skimmed the exposed areas as your tongue reached out to flick the little freckle that found a home on his hip before you set your sights on his dick that was straining for you. Lips that had previously kissed his skin now moved to the fabric that jailed his heavy cock. Sitting back, your thumb traced the underside of his dick softly before you barely brushed over the head. The cotton dragged against your finger and Namjoon huffed loudly before lifting his hips further into your touch.

“Don’t tease.” Namjoon’s voice had lowered a few octaves and the deep tone had you clenching your thighs. His hands fisted the pillows next to him and you could feel the restraint he was exacting on himself through the trembling of his muscles.

“I’m not,” you promised. “I’m just making sure you’re ready.”

“I am. Swear to God.”

Unable to keep the smile off your face, you nodded and reached for the waistband of his shorts. He lifted his hips and helped you shove the material to his ankles. That was when you realized two things.

One, he was right. His cock laid thick and proud on his stomach and was weeping for you. He was of average length but his girth let you know that were going to struggle to fit him in your mouth. The thought only made you shiver in delight. A phantom pain panged in your gut when you took in the slight curve of the head, knowing it was going to hit everything you needed.

Second, he had the prettiest cock you had ever seen. You never thought dicks were pretty. In fact, you were pretty resolute on that thought. Most likely due to the disgusting amount of unsolicited dick pics you had received in your life. But, Namjoon’s? You wanted to take a picture, frame it and admire it whenever you wanted to. The skin that stretched around his width was a shade darker than the rest of him and his cock head, a pretty red color, made you want to see how far down you could get the flush to go.

You wrapped your hand around his length and twisted up. Namjoon’s back arched off the couch and a string of curses fell off of his lips. Your thumb collected the glistening pre-cum on his tip and used it to smooth your palm over him.

“I normally don’t say this,” you said as you became infatuated with the vein that ran along the underside of his cock, “but if you want to send me a dick pic, I definitely won’t complain. Like, ever.”

“B-baby, I’ll give you whatever you want. Just keep doing what you’re doing.” Namjoon moaned, throwing his head back when your thumb pressed against the delicate skin that resided under the his mushroom tip.

You giggled lightly. “So sensitive. I’ve barely even started.”

Namjoon opened his mouth to say something but you didn’t give him a chance. You licked the vein that had caught your eye earlier and followed it to the top before enveloping the head of him into the heat of your mouth. You relished the broken groan that he let out. Several kitten licks were placed on his weeping slit before taking him deeper. You worked slowly, gauging his reaction as you took him further. He responded well, panting and moaning in encouragement, head still thrown back against the couch.

“You can look at me, you know,” you reminded him as he popped out of your mouth. Kisses were mouthed over the soft skin that was wrapped around the steel of his erection. Your hand used your spit as lube to tug him harder.

“Can’t,” Namjoon gasped. “Gonna blow my load if I watch you.”

“That’s kind of the whole point.”

“Not yet,” he whined. “I don’t want this to be over.”

You pinched his hip until he met your gaze, offering him a sweet smile. “This isn’t going to be the last time I get on my knees for you, baby.” You held his wide-eyed stare as you took him back into your mouth. Ignoring how his hands seemed to flutter around you, unsure of what to touch, you focused on sliding him further into your mouth. Then, you sucked hard, using your tongue to lave at the warm skin.

Namjoon lost it above you. He released a strangled moan that caused your core to absolutely gush. One hand finally tangled into your hair and the other gripped your shoulder with warning, which you ignored. You merely sucked and pulled harder. Namjoon’s hips flexed, causing the tip of him to slam into the back of your throat. Not expecting it, you couldn’t help but cough around him as your eyes watered.

“Oh, God! I’m so sorry.” Namjoon used the hand on your shoulder to yank you off. His thumbs wiped at the tears that trickled down your cheeks, the concern etched across his face made you feel warm inside. “Shit, are you okay?”

“I am, promise,” you assured him. “Just give me a second, okay?”

He nodded while pushing back some of your hair that had escaped your sloppy up-do. You gently removed his hands before looking down at his length that was still clutched in yours. As much as he had shocked you, the thought of him fucking your face was not something you shied away from. Really, it was exactly what you wanted. But you needed to prep a bit first.

When you took him back in your mouth, you focused on relaxing the muscles in your throat. Breathing deeply through your nose, you slowly worked yourself further down until your nose was pressed into the base of him. Spit trickled out of your mouth and over his balls as you pulled back. You did this a few more times, working past your gag reflex and allowing your throat to get used to the intrusion.

Namjoon was anything but quiet as you deep throated him. It was honestly the sexiest thing you had ever heard. While your past lovers hadn’t necessarily been quiet, the praises Namjoon kept raining on you and the beautiful noises he made were music to your ears. Your body certainly agreed. Your cunt ached to be filled and the fabric of your panties was soaked through. But, you ignored your needs and focused on the panting man before you.

“Okay,” you nodded as you popped him out of your mouth. “I’m ready.”

It took Namjoon’s brain a few seconds to process what you said. He shifted restlessly on the couch cushions as you ran your hands over his thighs. “Huh? W-what did you say?”

“I’m ready for you to fuck my face.”

His pupils were blown wide as he stared at you with an open mouth. “Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“What if I want it to hurt?” You stared at him while purring the words that was his undoing. Namjoon’s eyes got impossibly darker as his chest expanded with a sharp intake of breath. He spread his legs wider and gently held the back of your head as he guided you down his shaft. You held eye contact with him as he cautiously raised his hips to meet your lips. Once he saw no signs of distress from you, he began thrusting more consistently as you bobbed your head to match his rhythm.

His steady movements didn’t last long but it didn’t bother you. You were more than happy to take over for him. Like you said, this wasn’t going to be the last time you worshipped his cock. The two of you had plenty of time to figure things out. Plus, knowing how much you clearly affected him gave you all the motivation you needed.

Your throat began to tense up again so you focused your attentions on his sensitive head and let your hands twist up to your mouth and back down. The sounds of your palm gliding along his slick skin and your lips sucking tightly filled the spacious living room. They were nearly drowned out by Namjoon, though.

“Baby, oh f-fuck…shit,” he keened loud and hard when your other hand moved to brush over his swollen balls. You cupped them gently and rolled them between your fingers. Even as he was practically thrashing against you, hips thrusting in an aimless rhythm, the hand he had originally placed on the back of your head remained there. He applied no pressure, allowing you to set the pace, but it also seemed to ground him. To remind him that this wasn’t a dream.

“M’gonna cum. Baby…baby, I’m gonna cum. Soon, oh God,” he babbled. You appreciated the warning but you didn’t need it. He was twitching wildly in your mouth and your tongue was coated with the salty essence of his pre-cum. In response, you ran your index finger on that sensitive spot behind his balls and that’s when Namjoon exploded.

Thick ropes of white shot down your throat, causing you to almost gag. Instead, you swallowed past the reflex and took as much as you could. By the fourth stream, a bit had managed to slip past the suction of your mouth and dribble down his cock. You were quick to clean up, licking at the mess the both of you had made before returning to his tip. You suckled the sensitive head until Namjoon practically shoved you away from him.

When you looked up you were met with a glorious sight. Namjoon was completely fucked out, twitching against the couch and his broad chest heaving for air. Sweat beaded his sharp jaw line and trickled down the column of his throat. His face was tilted towards the ceiling and his hair was haphazardly pushed off of his forehead. He looked completely ruined and entirely yours.

“Was that good?” You asked softly as you rose to your feet, ignoring the sharp ache in your knees. Namjoon made an unintelligible sound in the back of his throat that you took as a resounding yes. He cracked his eyes open and looked at you with such adoration you couldn’t help but blush.

“Really?” He murmured. “Don’t get shy on me now. You can’t just suck the life out of me one second and then start blushing like a school girl immediately after.”

“It’s called duality,” you muttered as your cheeks flushed darker. Namjoon snorted and reached for you, pulling you onto his lap. His spent cock nestled between your thighs and his eyes rolled back into his head when he felt the simmering heat through the fabric of your shorts.

“I need five minutes. Then, I swear to God, I’m going to eat you out like you deserve.”

Giggling, you wrapped your arms around his neck, playing with the strands of hair at the base of his neck. “You don’t have to. This wasn’t a quid pro quo situation. I gave you a blowjob because I wanted to. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“It’s either you give me five minutes so that I can eat you out or ten minutes so I can fuck you into next week. You decide.”

His determination brought a smile to your face until you took in the purple bags under his eyes and how his eyelids kept drooping lower and lower. “How about a nap first, hm? I’ll decide after you get some sleep.”

Namjoon looked like he wanted to protest but you kissed him instead. His argument clearly wasn’t that strong because when you pulled away he was nodding in resignation. You helped him pull up his shorts and squealed when he lifted you up into his arms. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you let him carry you into the bedroom and wrap the both of you up in the comforter. You hadn’t planned on sleeping with him, wanting to get more work done while he slept. But the faint scent of his aftershave and the soft way he caressed your spine could lull an insomniac to sleep. Who were you to refuse?

“Wake me up when you decide,” Namjoon whispered into your hair. You nodded against his chest, and within minutes the two of you slipped into a deep slumber. Happy and content.

©jcwritings Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without my permission.

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liz-allyn · 3 years ago

Text

shudder, part 5/6 [agent mobius x gn!reader]

After disaster places your life in danger, Mobius makes a consequential choice.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Series Summary: Pre-Loki series. You are one of the most dangerous variants the TVA has ever recovered, but Mobius knows what makes you tick. Five times he made you shudder, and the one time you returned the favor.

Words: 4k

Chapter Warnings/Tags: Language; Graphic Violence; Whump; Angst; Panic Attack; Hurt/Comfort; If the movie Titanic stresses you out too much-this isn't for you, chief; Mobius x reader

2889. Hell was erupting on the planet of Olympus-V in its final hours.

A fierce rainstorm barreled down on the alien world’s rocky cliff face. A dangerous surf crashed on the rocks, the sea threatening to scale the cliffs. The sky glowed crimson, illuminated by a Red Giant that was hours from its own collapse. The red light gave the rainstorm an eerie hue. It looked like it was raining blood.

The landscape was crowned by the fiery wreckage of an alien ship. It was the intended getaway vessel of a dangerous variant that managed to escape your team through a hijacked Time Door. Your team followed him boldly, not realizing it was never a getaway. It was a suicide mission. And you walked right into a kamikaze attack.

The variant was dead. Eight other Minutemen were dead. Your still-sorta-new analyst partner was dead. B-15 was badly wounded and unresponsive. You and C-20 were stumbling through the corridors of the ship, both sporting nasty head wounds, as you dragged-carried B-15 towards refuge.

Catastrophe was a mild description, never mind the looming apocalypse outside.

“Help!” another voice rang out from the distance. It was U-91. “Somebody help me!”

You turned towards the sound of the man’s voice, stopping in your tracks. You looked at C-20.

The ground beneath your feet was subtly moving, quaking the ship with every inch. The rocky soil beneath you was giving way under the weight of the wreckage. You and C-20 knew that soon the ship would be a fireball at the bottom of the cliff. But you couldn’t leave him behind.

“Go,” you ordered. “Get her outta here.”

You turned around and rushed back into the smoke and flames. C-20 watched you anxiously as you disappeared. She carried on her rescue mission, dragging B-15 towards a temporarily opened Time Door that would lead them safely back to TVA HQ. It would stay open, as long as the ship didn’t crumble down the cliff.

You were alone again, covering your mouth with your jacket sleeve, following the painful groans as they grew louder.

“I’m over here!” U-91 hollered, his voice echoing down a corridor that was bent nearly vertically. You spotted his position, flush against the ground, but you would have to scale walls of the hallway at a steep angle to reach him. “I’m stuck on something!” he shouted.

“Hang on!” you replied. You approached the base of the corridor with trepidation. Carefully and quickly, you began to climb up the hallway via the walls. You gripped door frames, pipes, handles - anything that you could use to scale the corridor.

“Where’s A-19,” the Minuteman shouted about his partner. “I can’t find A-19!” He sounded panicked, which was never good.

“Hang on, I’m almost there!”

“Did you find A-19?”

You didn’t immediately reply, seeing from your vantage point what he could not. U-91 was less than 10 feet from you, and was truly “stuck.”

His leg was impaled on a ripped pipe that had torn away from the wall in the crash. He was hanging there helplessly by his limb. You winced at the sight and scanned your eyes over the area. You locked on to another gruesome sight: the body of his partner of many years, A-19, crushed by a beam just feet away..

“I c-can’t move,” U-91 said with a choked-out sob. You’d never seen this hunter anything less than tough-as-nails. But now he was weeping. “I-I… I can’t find A-19.”

“It’s okay,” you said as calmly as you could.His wailing broke your heart. “I’m going to get you.”

The final hurdle was going to be just that. You needed to jump up and reach the top of the doorframe to be able to free U-91. You glanced down the corridor warily.

The ship growled impatiently as it shifted another inch.

You used all your strength to leap up in the air and catch the doorframe. You’re pretty sure you sprained your shoulder, if you hadn’t already in the crash. You struggled to keep a firm grip as you shimmied to reach him.

While supporting his weight, you pulled the pipe downwards and freed him. His weight fell on you, unleashing cries from you both. But you didn’t let go.

U-91 looked at you blearily, body wracked with pain and exhaustion. He froze. His eyes went black. You knew exactly whose body he could finally see.

“No,” he cried out pitifully. “No!”

“We have to go!” you implored him. “The ship is unstable and we’re going to fall.”

He couldn’t take his eyes off of his partner’s body.

You held him tightly, and looked down the corridor to where you began. This part was basically a giant slide if you aimed just right. Just like at a water park. Piece of cake.

You said a brief prayer and leaned U-91’s weight across your chest as you both slid down the walls of the corridor. You landed with a harsh thud and U-91 cried out again in agony.

You looked up at the Time Door, still open where you left it - where C-20 and B-15 had already made their escape. It was just you and U-91 alone. If you ran now, you could make it.

“You did this,” you heard U-91 moan beside you. He was delirious; you could only imagine the immense physical and emotional pain he was in. “We should’ve never followed you—”

His sentiments burned like acid, but you shook them off. “Come on!” you hissed, using all of your strength to pull him onto your back. Your shoulder was buckling from the weight, still ravaged from your last injury in the field.

Maybe you were bad luck. Maybe U-91 had a point.

“I need you to walk!” you ordered him.

“You killed us,” U-91 repeated through chattering teeth. “You killed us...”

You tried to throw him on your back and carry him fireman-style towards the exit. Four steps in and you lost your balance. Both of you fell to the ground as the ship started quaking. This time, it didn’t stop.

You felt a strong hand grip your upper arm and yank you to your feet. For a moment you expected to see C-20 back to rescue you. Your heart skipped a beat at who you saw instead.

Mobius pulled you up close until you were nearly nose-to-nose. You gaped at him like a literal deus ex machina come down from the heavens to deliver salvation. He wasn’t supposed to be on this mission. He wasn’t on the mission. How did he get here—?

The Time Door. He went through the Time Door. He came there for you.

“We gotta move!” Mobius shouted as the vibrations jolted you both into action. He reached down and grabbed hold of U-91, and you grabbed the injured man’s other side. It was much quicker to carry the man down the hallway until you were steps away from the time door.

Then the ground shifted, and your world was upside down.

When you came to, the first thing you felt was the cold. You were laying on the ceiling of the ship.

There was a voice echoing— Mobius’ voice. He was crouched down over you shouting something that you couldn’t hear.

You noticed his TVA flank jacket and tie. Paired with the mustache he looked like a detective on a procedural cop show. This stupidly-handsome, hero time cop walked into an apocalypse to save you, now stared down at you with wide, terrified eyes.

That’s when you realized you couldn’t move.

“Stay with me,” he implored, as he lifted your head out of the water.

With your ears clear, you could finally hear the chaos around you. A symphony of groans from twisting metal squealed and cracked through the halls of the ship. You could hear another crushing sound on top of the din. Rushing water.

You lifted your head to see why you were cold. You were laying in rising water with your hips pinned to the ground by a fallen steel door. Mobius was pulling up on the door desperately trying to free you.

Your heart began to pound.

The ship had fallen off the cliff into the ocean below. You were now sinking, the wreckage falling deeper into the sea, with you trapped inside.

You saw water rushing in through the hallways, filling all the corridors. It surrounded you. It was going to bury you.

“Agent Mobius!” you heard from a distance. “Get through the portal!”

You turned your head to see two Minutemen shouting as they dragged the injured U-91 through a flickering Time Door. They were so far away.

“Get help!” Mobius ordered frantically. “I can’t lift it off of her!”

“We can’t keep it open!” one of their voices echoed back. “Sir, you gotta get out bef—”

The door shorted out and vanished. And now, you were both trapped. .

“Mobius…” you exclaimed, barely able to breathe through your terror.

The water was rising quickly. Mobius glanced down at you again, and he reached down deeper to get a grip on your restraints. You both struggled and grunted, but the door only slid a little further without freeing you.

You were allowed a little more space to breathe, and were able to lift your torso a little higher out of the water. The relief was short-lived. The water was flowing rapidly and neither of you were strong enough.

“Damn it!” he roared in frustration.

You glanced around frantically and spotted an opportunity. “Look! There!”

He followed the end of your finger to a pipe nearby. He was on his feet immediately, kicking the piece of metal loose as you continued to try to push the door off of you. Once he broke the pipe free, he brought it over to you and stuck it in the space between your body and the watery ground, driving it down deep beside your leg. He gripped the pole tight and lifted with all of his might.

You pushed up on the door as he shouted, his muscles burning. You were shifting and thrashing like a fish in the frigid water until you were finally able to pull your hips out. You kicked furiously in the tiny crawl space until your legs were freed.

Mobius dropped the weight, and collapsed on his hands and knees. You were reaching for him desperately, your fingers aching to hold him. He wrapped his arms around you, embracing you tightly, as you both kneeled in the ocean water.

A sob escaped your lips as you buried your face in his neck. “You came back for me…” Your body shook as you cried like a child.

He tightened his hold on you and you felt the hair of his mustache graze the delicate skin of your neck.

“Of course,” he replied.

You wanted to hold onto him forever, letting the tears flow freely down your cheeks. It was the greatest act of love that anyone had ever shown you. And it was about to be the last.

Your eyes focused ominously on other imminent danger pounding its way through the doors.

“Moby...” you shuddered as he pulled you up to your feet. The water level was crawling up your thighs, rushing in from everywhere.

He snapped into action, grabbed you by the wrist, and pulled you back down the (inverted) hallway where the Time Door once stood. You took giant strides to push through the current towards a less-submerged part of the corridor.

It became easier to run, but everywhere you looked, your nightmares were coming to life. Your brain began to cease; your mind locked up. You were being paralyzed by terror.

Mobius was shouting something again, but you only caught part of it.

“...outer ring of the ship. If we swim we can make it.”

“What?” you blinked incredulously. He pointed towards a submerged hallway. A water-filled tunnel into the deep darkness. You looked up at him with wide eyes, horrified at his suggestion.

“The ship’s emergency systems would’ve opened the door passages in the event of a crash,” Mobius rushed to explain. “The way should be clear. If we swim now, we can make it out of the ship and up to the surface.”

You were shaking your head, trembling uncontrollably.

“We can do this,” Mobius breathed, pulling you towards the deeper end of the water.

“No-no-no,” you shrank away from his grip. “No, please, no..!”

“We don’t have a choice!” he exclaimed, wrapping his arms around you. He took a breath and calmed himself once more, “We’re running out of time.”

“Please, don’t make me!” You were crying again. “I-I-I can’t, I’ll drown.”

“No, you won’t—”

“You don’t know where you’re going! You don’t know if there’s even a way out!”

“We have to try,” he explained, meeting your pleas with calm declarations. “If we don’t, we’re gonna die in here. The more we wait, the deeper we sink.”

He had stopped pulling you towards the water, but he wouldn’t let you pull away. He held your body close to him, and for a moment you thought he’d drag you under. He was begging you not to give him a reason.

“Please icanticantocant…” You gripped his chest desperately.

His hands went to the sides of your head, a placating touch matched with a stern voice. “Look at me,” he ordered. He was once again that person that you’d met in the time theater: calm, compassionate, but equally authoritative and focused. “Look at me,” he repeated. You did, and that was the last time he’d ever have to give you directions twice.

You reached up and covered his hands with your own as he held your face. His dark orbs were gentle as they drew you in, hypnotizing you into a vague sense of calm.

He was reading you again—reading and dictating the pages of your mind, writing miracles in the margins of your nightmares.

“You can do this,” he declared with resolve. He whispered to you at a frequency you could hear, even over the crashing current. “You’re the best hunter we have. I’ve seen what you can do.” He gazed at you like he could see the sun rise through your eyes. “You can do anything.”

Your heart swelled and ached.

“I swear to you,” he said softly, as if in prayer, “you will make it to the surface.” He touched his forehead to yours as he wiped the tears from your face with his calloused thumbs. “You’re not going to drown.”

He sounded so confident. Like it was already written and he’d read it many times before, and this was all just another page in the chronicles of the Sacred Timeline. You wanted to believe him. He was asking you to believe him.

That was the moment you realized it.

He was the only thing in the universe that mattered to you.

You couldn’t fathom a version of your story without him in it. You believed in him. And even if he was wrong, it was worth dying for.

You wanted to cry out; to tell him all of the things you felt for him - that you loved him, and would die for him, and wanted nothing more than to be back in his bed at the TVA where he could hold you and tell you that the nightmares were over and that you were safe with him.

“Okay?” he said to you, his eyes fixed.

You blinked at him, and gave him a gentle nod. “Okay.”

He took your hand in his and walked you into the icy water. You were soaked already but your body jolted from the shocking cold.

“We need to slow down our heart rates,” Mobius explained. “Preserve the oxygen a little longer, alright? So we’re going to take five deep breaths - together, then we go under, okay? I’ll give you the signal when it’s safe to breathe.”

You nodded, despite your terror. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, trying to burn into your memory every line and curve of his face.

“Just don’t leave me behind, okay?” you pleaded with him meekly. You didn’t even think about what you’d said until it was done. His eyes softened as they rested on you. “Promise you’ll stay with me?” you asked.

He contemplated you, then reached out and pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Always,” he promised.

You both turned towards the water, then back to each other. “Okay, five deep breaths,” he instructed. “In and out. Through your nose.” You filled your chest with air and exhaled deeply.

“That’s one,” he counted. “Pull in from the diaphragm.” Mobius rested his hand on your stomach and watched it move with your next inhale and exhale.

“Two.” Another deep breath. He removed his hand from your belly and grasped your hand. There was no way you were going to let it go.

“Three.”

You were gazing into his eyes again, losing yourself in their warm earthy tones.

“Four. One more, in and out.”

You pulled the air in through your nose and out through your mouth, in sync with him.

“Five. Deep breath.”

You filled your lungs as tightly as you could, and dived beneath the surface with him.

It was so much darker than you’d expected. You might as well have been swimming through a starry sky, and in your mind that’s what you wanted to pretend. There were brief flashes - sparks from blown fuses, mostly - that would illuminate your surroundings. You pretended they were flares from stars dying out as you swam through the milky way.

The water was so cold. It was the kind of cold that your skin doesn’t acclimate to. You started counting in your mind as your feet kicked. You weren’t sure how long you'd been holding your breath, but you’d only made it down the first hallway. Mobius pulled you around another corner, continuing on to some blind destination.

How did he know where he was going? You didn’t let your mind dwell on it, as you felt your heart start to pound under the exertion. He knows about space ships, probably an expert. An expert on space ships and jetskis.

Down another corridor. It was getting darker. Were you supposed to be swimming up, or down? You were moving so slow although every muscle in your body struggled to propel you forward. Maybe the cold was slowing you down.

Your chest was burning.

Mobius was still kicking and pulling himself through the water, holding your hand tightly. He was a strong swimmer. Fit for his age, which was… 1,000? Time moved differently in the TVA, so you didn’t know. He was moving slower now, you noticed. Or maybe time was slowing down. Maybe you were drowning already.

God, your chest hurts.

You reached another intersection. He hesitated, looking back and forth briefly. Your mind registered the brief pause, but before you began to panic he pulled you along.

The stars had all gone out. It was so dark.

You kept thrusting your arms deeper through the water, picking up the pace. They were burning from lack of oxygen, but it only made you fight harder.

Mobius pulled you to a stop and you went through another door. It was an elevator shaft of some kind, and the sparks above illuminated the path forward.

Bright lights were filling your gaze, but not from the sparks.

You kept kicking. You could see light. Red light.

Mobius is pulling you forward now. The opening is right there. You’re almost out of the ship and can see the red glow of the surface.

Every thrust of your arms makes them weaker. Like you’re swimming in molasses.

Your lungs are on fire. You’re kicking freely past the confines of the ship. The surface is getting brighter. How deep were you - maybe 40 feet? 30 feet?

You weren’t going to make it.

You were running out of air fast. Your body was beginning to convulse as Mobius held you against him. The world around you was getting brighter and darker.

You weren’t going to make it. You were running out of time.

Mobius stopped his upward push and for the first time you could feel he was losing it too. He let go of your hand, but grabbed the sides of your face. His mouth was on yours, and he gripped the knape of your neck.

That’s when you felt it. The double-squeeze. The signal.

You breathed inwards instinctively before you realized what he was doing. He emptied the last bit of oxygen into your lungs and you felt his grip soften.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough to save you from blacking out. You felt his touch disappear. Your hand shot out through the water and gripped him by the arm. You turned your gaze up to the surface and kicked as hard as you could, reaching up for the sky.

No, no, no, no, no.

You were busy trying to convince your mind that this wasn’t really happening. That Mobius was not limp in the current beneath you. You climbed furiously upwards. 15 feet. 10 feet. 5 feet.

Your head ripped through the surface as you gasped for air, choking on the blistering pain. Rain pelted your face as you kicked to stay afloat on the surface. “Mobius!” you cried out as you dragged him up above the water. His head rolled back in a way that gutted you.

You glanced around frantically as a wave crested over you both, filling your mouth with sea water. You spat as you broke through the surface again, kicking even harder to keep him afloat.

You started swimming towards the shore. The tide allowed you to ride the current most of the way. It was dumb luck. You probably would have drowned otherwise.

You held Mobius tight, fighting to keep his head above water, as another surge pushed you forward. A beachhead at the base of the cliff was visible in your sights. One more wave and you both washed up on the crystalline white sand of the shore.

Every muscle in your body throbbed, but you didn’t stop. You squirmed to your feet and dragged your partner with all of your strength further up the beach.

He wasn’t moving. You crouched down beside him, your body shaking with terror. You dropped your ear to his mouth.

He wasn’t breathing.

“No... no, Mobius...”

Your teeth were chattering cold while hot tears flooded down your cheeks. Your mind struggled frantically to process a solution.

You stacked your hands firmly in the center of his chest and sat up on your knees, counting each compression under your breath.

After the count of ten, you tilted his head back, opening his airway, pinched his nose and breathed deeply into his lungs. Tears were falling freely from your eyes onto his face, and you choked back a sob after your second breath did not resuscitate him.

“No,” your voice was thick with anger. “No - you promised me.”

You repeated the process of CPR, compressing his chest and breathing into his mouth to no avail.

“You promised me, you son of a bitch,” you hissed. “You promised you’d stay with me!”

You shoved the heel of your palm into his chest even harder. Your shoulders were filled with a strength that the rest of your body was drained of. This was worse than heartbreak. Your soul was crumbling.

“Please don’t leave,” you were begging. “Please come back... Please, I need you...”

A cough sprang forth from his throat as water shot up from his mouth.

The rush of joy winded you and knocked you to your elbows. Mobius turned his head and expelled the rest of the sea water from his lungs, coughing harshly, his whole body shaking.

You were shaking too, not just from the cold.

“God,” you breathed, overcome with immeasurable relief. Hearing him gasp for air was the closest you’d ever come to heaven.

You laid your head on his chest as silent cries racked your body. You were now a disciple, a humble and devout witness to whatever miracle brought you two together. You squeezed your eyes shut as you listened to the sound of his heartbeat, the gentle sound of each blessed breath. And you worshipped him.

“S-See,” he said with a cough, that sly smirk on his face. “To-toldya w-we’d make it.”

And for that comment, you were going to kill him.

Part 6

A/N: Ok kids, the next chapter is straight up hard R-rated. Like X-rated. Like. The. Whole. Chapter. I’ve never written anything like this. And it’s long! Is that weird? I keep thinking 4k words of smut is like… whoa… Your thoughts in the comments, please. Part of me also just wants to cut the smut in the middle but that would be cruel, right?

Did you like this chapter? Reblog & let me know! If you're not tagged, it's because I couldn't tag you.

@generalhugzzz @isaxbella749 @yodaboo @aloyssia

#mobius x reader #agent mobius x reader #mobius m mobius x reader #mobius #agent mobius #mobius m mobius #mcu fanfiction #loki tv series #loki show #owen wilson #mobius fanfiction #mobius imagine #Lizzy writes.#Lizzy writes!shudder.#mobius x you

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toiletwipes · 3 years ago

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hoppípolla; part one

college!dream x afab reader but they pronouns

nervous college student you, smoked weed with dream one night and you couldn't ever forget it. starting a crush you knew would be the death of you. and at the moment, you had a terrible way of dealing with things. and things just kept happening, one thing after another.

a little author's note: i'm splitting it into parts because i like the attention and also because it feels right

2.37k words

----

he literally couldn't get any hotter.

you sit at a mini-bar, crossing your leg over the other, sipping at your sprite. there was he was, in all of his fucking glory, was dream. your classmate in your english course and the one person at this party who you knew, for an absolute fact, smoked weed. and although he wasn't smoking right now, the beer in his hand said that he probably wasn't going to be, tonight.

oh you knew, this was a college dorm party, and people tried all sorts of party drugs, and weed was the tip of the iceberg. no, you knew that.

but no one was also that hot.

well.

maybe they were but they just weren't dream, not a stoner, not someone who had damn good genetics, and someone who knew how to roll a joint perfectly. not to mention, his best friend sapnap? also your best friend.

he's the one who introduced you two, despite having shared english for the past year. and he's the one who brought you and dream to the party.

(yeah, you sat in the back, pulling at the cords of your hoodie, watching the sides of his face move with quiet notions, talking to sapnap as he drove and playing soft music to match the rain.)

thinking even more, you wanted to just get up and go outside, just the urge to smoke something and anything, something to fill your lungs as your mind numbs just even the tiniest bit.

you sigh, taking one more sip of your drink before leaving it at the mini-bar, slipping your hands into the pocket of your hoodie and sliding out a cigarette out of its carton. taking a step outside, you sigh in relief seeing the dry porch. several others sat in a circle, passing around a beer and two decent blunts. sometimes sharing a kiss, sometimes the smoke between their lips.

what you would give to do that with dream, you bemoaned silently, as you lit your own cigarette, inhaling the bitter nicotine as you enjoyed the patters of the rain.

wiping your hand down on a bench, and seeing as it wasn't as wet as you thought it would be, you take a seat and take another long drag.

"so, what did he say?"

a girl with a bright green mullet and the sides of her head dyed pink, and several piercings in an non-existent eyebrow, she stares at you expectantly. as if you had an answer.

"don't know. haven't really talked to him." you shrug, trying not to think about any of your past conversations with him. all dull, all about school, all about homework. there would be no reason for him to agree to anything dealing with you in any romantic sense. or sexually, if you even dared.

"you know what that means right?" you look at her with a pinched expression. "it means you start talking to him, then ask him to blow your back out, or whatever it is you want" you almost choke on the smoke coming out of you but you mostly laugh it off.

"yeah like he'd want to talk to me," you muse, finding the stranger oddly comforting as she came over to sit next to you.

"well you don't know that, do you?" you had to give her that. you didn't know. but it wouldn't take a genius to guess the right answer. "does he smoke?" she asks, turning to you and feeling like there's nothing really stopping you from becoming besties, you pass your cigarette to her.

"i know he smokes weed but nothing else as far as i'm aware." you lean forward onto your knees, pressing your chin into your palms. "but honestly, i don't know him that much to begin with, so like, what's the point?"

the mullet hands it back to you after a pondering puff, and when you take a drag, she answers. "well, the way i see it, you can ask him out or you hookup tonight, or try to move on if you're serious about him." she pats your knees, moving to stand as she stretched. "but really, i hope it goes well, and if you need anything," she flicks out a card and watches you take it with disregarding eyes, "give me a call." and without as so much another word, she's leaving in a Beetle with her circle of friends.

glancing at it, it's a card to the floral shop but with a name on it. pocketing it and then snuffing out the bud, you leave it dead on the porch, hoping to find sapnap and beg him to take you home.

you appreciated the nice girl for the conversation and maybe the start of a healthy friendship, but even just being with someone other than dream made your heart twist in your chest.

you didn't have time to search for your best friend as he clung to dream, who was dragging his ass close to the door, where you stood now.

and when you finally appeared in his vision, you see relief and a smile sink into his face. you don't know why but you push down a smile as he approaches you with long strides. but what happens next is downright hilarious.

"we have to go right now, sap just puked all over minx and she's this close to blowing this house up," his nose wrinkles with his smile, you notice, but you nod without much thought.

"need me to drive?" you offer, though, you hates nothing more than exactly that.

"please, i've had a few beers and i don't want to risk driving tipsy," he says and you want to just cry.

you nod as you hold your hand up for the keys, and upon them being dropped in the center, you swallow down the dryest, biggest lump in your throat.

hearing several honks behind you, you don't even move above the speed limit in the neighborhood, which was five. it was fucking raining and you happened to have the biggest crush in existence on the person sitting in the passenger seat.

"i know you're driving right now, but have you heard of this song?"

the first ten seconds are tense, piano notes building up to a release after the next twenty with a guitar and drums in the back.

you recognized it easily, finding it comforting. you smile as you glance behind your shoulder and flick your turn signal on. "it's called hoppípolla, isn't it? from that one movie with the cursed girl?" he laughs and your heart clenches, wanting to hear it more.

"yeah, i just wanted to see if you'd recognize it, i've shown it to like, ten people and only a few knew it." you knew it was silly to be proud to know it but you couldn't help it. you felt easy, easy to ply with.

"yeah, well, i do have an eccentric movie taste," you smile as you turn onto the next street over, finding sapnap's house immediately. originally his parents, but they were gone for a small vacation while it was the summer.

putting the car in park, you let out a breath, just happy to be done with driving for the moment. "you okay?" you jump in your seat, finding dream already out of the car with sapnap in his arms.

the man in question babbled with incoherent words, but you paid him no mind.

"um, yeah, i uh, i just- just hate driving," you grimace as you pull yourself out of the car, getting hit with the constant pelting rain.

he frowns, of all things, walking to the porch as you beat him there already, unlocking the door.

he lays sapnap down on the couch as you make your way to the kitchen, helping yourself to the gourmet chocolate cake left there by his parents' anniversary.

tasting as sweet as you thought it would be, but somehow so fucking bitter at the same time. maybe it's the way you want to cry but how lame would that be? found in your best friend's house crying as you ate their cake?

not cool.

wiping your face with the sleeve of your hoodie, you pick yourself up and sit on the counter, desperate to change how your feeling. your skirt riding up your thighs, almost hiding in your oversized hoodie, not that you noticed.

and as if he could read your fucking mind, he walks in as he's ruffling his head of hair, as if he just got out of the shower. catching you on the counter, you had half a mind to stop eating cake and get down but you just didn't care at this point.

"want some?" you offered, sliding the platter of cake towards him while you tried to hide the fact that your face was blotchy and your nose couldn't stop sniffling. you hated the way pity looked in people. but when you turned to give dream a spoon, you saw nothing but a man with flushed cheeks and darting eyes. "are- are you good, dream?" you ask, almost disbelieving that this man is anything but flustered.

"you just, uh, well. i- i don't know how to say this but." he covers his mouth and face with one hand as he points to your lap. raising an eyebrow, you turn your head down to see the little, cyan bow on the front of your grey panties.

"oh fuck-" you dropped your fork as you yanked your skirt down and hopped from the counter, barely meeting his shoulders as you went to move away from him.

tears dropped from your eyes faster as you went to leave, when dream's arm shoots out to stop you, grabbing you by the arm as he protests you leaving.

"okay, it's bad but you can stay, um, let's just finish the cake and go to bed." you really didn't want to, dream seeing your underwear while you ate cake was forcibly checked off your bucket list.

turning around, you wanted to shrink and then be crushed like a bug underneath dream's shoe, but you settled for picking up your spoon and shoveling a bit of cake in your mouth until you couldn't think about anything else.

you flashed your crush, and he asked you to stay to eat cake. cake, of all things, you mourned.

wished somebody eat you out, you weep in your head, and come to your horror, dream starts choking on cake, coughing loudly as he punched his chest.

"i have a feeling i said something out loud." you feel humiliated as you just let the fork fall from your fingers, walking out of the kitchen, not hearing the man disagree and then as you're about to just pull your shoes on and leave, dream comes out of the kitchen and puts his hands on your shoulders.

"listen, uhh, i don't want to freak you out, but a few weeks ago, when- when we went to that party with george, he may or may not have said that you had, uh, that you have a crush on me and- is- is that right?" his words fell out of his mouth faster than he could trip over his feet. "do you like me like that?"

you wanted to melt into the ground.

"can i just go?" you whimpered out, turning your head as you tried to pull his hands off your shoulder.

"please answer the question," he begs, moving his hands from your shoulders to your cheeks, cradling it as he got closer. "because i cannot stop thinking about you, and every time we're alone, you always leave as soon as possible but then you looked so hot on the counter-" he breaks off, moaning under your stare as you listen with wide eyes.

"please say you feel the same," he begged pulling your face close to his as you gripped his arms.

"and what would you do if i did?" you whispered, eyes closing as you tried to hold onto your beating heart. his breath fanned over your lips, and all you could think about was him, him, him.

"anything you'd let me do," he says and you let out a broken moan when your two lips met, slotting against each other as if they were always meant for this. he moves his hands from your face to your shoulders and down as he moved to your waist. you grabbed a handful of his hair, the other holding the side of his face, and he moves his mouth from yours and licks a stripe down your chin to your neck.

"do you remember the day we first met," he murmured against your skin as you panted. "you were shivering while we waited for the professor, and you asked if you could borrow my jacket." it does ring a bell but you're not thinking too hard when he starts biting into your neck.

"and when you keep showing up, wearing my jacket, and that pretty, short skirt," he reaches up with one hand to hold onto your neck as he sucks a hickey right into your skin, painting as much as he could with such a pliable canvas as your skin.

"the things you do to me," he lets out a moan so broken, you wondered how he could be this affected by you and you not noticing for so long.

"we have all night, we can-" you let out a whine as he sucks hard into that sweet spot, "we can try to do it, everything, everything you and i want."

reaching down, he slipped his hands underneath your ass, picking you up with ease as he moved towards the guest bedroom. "i hope you're not planning on walking anywhere tomorrow," he pants in your ear, leaning you against the door as he uses the one hand to open it. kicking it behind him, he lays you on the bed, pushing up his hoodie to mouth kisses onto your stomach.

"as long as you'll have me," you spoke with need, your voice breaking just as much as his. and he nods hard, before he moves back over you to kiss your lips.

"you ready?"

#dream x reader #dream x you #dream x y/n #dreamwastaken #dreamwastaken smut #dream fic #dreamwastaken x reader #dreamwastaken x you #dreamwastaken x y/n #also woo hot mama #this felt good to write #especially after having idea after idea #and not being able to finish any of them right away #anyways #part two will probably be uploaded today or tomorrow #so be on the lookout

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heyaeolus · 3 years ago

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Control Freak Tendencies

With: Bokuto Genre: angst to fluff Warnings: bokuto is unconsciously manipulative in this WC: 1.2k

You’ve got a nice ball of energy for a boyfriend and it’s everything that’s been making you sleep nicer at night

He is also someone who is especially adept with emotions so he knows when something is off with you. He sends you hugs and showers you with lots of kisses. But of course, life is not a fairy tale and Bokuto comes with his own imperfections.

Being sensitive with emotions also brings him knowledge on how to use them best

It wasn’t intentional but he unconsciously manipulates you into doing things he wants. When you realized it, there was nothing but a rotten feeling growing in your chest.

The warm sun against your face was the first thing you felt as your senses awakened on a lazy Sunday morning. The second thing was the heavy arm against your stomach restraining your breathing. You looked to your right and found your boyfriend still deep in slumber. It was a nice view to see everyday.

But as much as you wanted to stay, you promised your friends lunch today so you slowly crept out of bed. Knowing your boyfriend, you know waking him up is the least of your concerns since he sleeps like a bear in hibernation. You dashed to the bathroom and got ready to go.

Just when you were about to finish your shower, a gentle series of knocks disturbed the silence in the bathroom. “Baby?” you hear Koutarou’s raspy morning voice seep through the door. You grabbed your robe and hastily wrapped it around you, “Yes, baby?” Your half-awake boyfriend stood before the door, head covered under the blanket he is still clutching. Upon seeing you freshly showered, he rubbed his eyes, “Going somewhere?”

You nodded, walking past him and got to the closet, yanking pieces of clothing out. “Can I go with you?” he asks. You frown, “It’s a lunch with the girls, baby.”

“Can’t I go?” his eyes turn glassy as he pouts behind you, towering your small stature. This is exactly what you were wary of, his clinginess.

“Baby, you know the girls don’t like it when a partner comes in at our lunch dates,” you sigh.

“But it’s lonely here without you,” he reasons, almost breaking your walls. But this lunch is something you’ve promised with your friends that you wouldn’t miss unless you are on the brink of death, that is. And it’s something that keeps you, you.

You face your boyfriend, hands coming up to cradle his face. He instantly slouches to feel your warmth better. “Baby,” you start, “This is one thing I can’t skip so please behave, okay? I’ll just get you a treat once I’m back.”

He sniffs, tears starting to break out, “But you can always attend your next lunch dates! Would you rather me be lonely?”

You huff, now angry. Here he goes again, using emotions to battle everything with you. He somehow always manages to guilt-trip you over small things you wanted to do for yourself and it’s taking a toll on you. He follows you when you go to the bathroom to get dressed but you slammed the door to his face.

“Are you angry now?” he sobs behind the door.

You don’t answer him because you can’t take his possessive antics. You ignored his ramblings, drowning him with the sound of music from your phone. By the time you were done, you dashed to the door out with Koutarou trailing behind you, calling out your name.

“Come on now, baby. Listen to me,” he says and you halt, turning to him with a glare.

“You can’t lock me up in here just because it makes you lonely, ‘Tarou! I’m also a person with a life aside from the one I live with you so I’m going whether you like it or not!” you storm out, making sure the door closes with a loud bang behind you. You didn’t spare him a glance because you know it will also hurt to see him so dejected but that habit of his has to go.

And now here you are, headed home with a heavy feeling in your gut. All throughout the lunch date, you were bugged by the confrontation you had with Bokuto. And it did not help when everyone talked about each other’s relationship. You didn’t open up the fight, you don’t want to dampen the lighthearted atmosphere. You kept it all in until the very moment you had to enter your apartment to be welcomed by an eerily still home.

Not even the television was on, and you have a gut feeling your boyfriend is not home either. Your heart skipped a beat, anxiety creeping up in your veins. You called out his name to make sure but there were no responses. A lot of negative thoughts were running through your mind as you scampered to the bedroom, to the bathroom, to every nook and canny in your house just to make sure Koutarou isn’t hiding there, depressed. But your big buff boyfriend is nowhere to be found.

You pulled out your phone to dial his number when the door opened, revealing none other than Koutarou. He stood there – dumbfounded.

“It’s only two,” he murmurs as if he had been found out. Well, you think he is at least, as you take in the box he before him, roses peeking out of it. You have an inkling of what he plans to do with them.

“Yeah, two,” your voice was shaking when you spoke. Chest heaving up and down as you stop yourself from breaking down. You were so close to weeping your heart out in the thoughts of your boyfriend leaving but now that he is here, you don’t know how to approach him. Are you supposed to be mad again? But your heart says it needs a warm, tight hug from him.

Bokuto deflates before you – emo mode. His eyes were on the ground as he mumbles, “I’m sorry I messed up I didn’t mean to be so clingy, annoying, and possessive, and I don’t want you missing out on events because you don’t ever do that to me. And I know how important your friends are to you – ”

“Tarou,” you attempt to stop him but he completely ignores you, lost in his trance.

“ – and it doesn’t help that I could get so childish sometimes. And I know I can get so annoying and unbearable and I’m lucky to have you and I don’t know – ”

“Koutarou, stop!” you lunge at him, throwing your arms around his neck, clinging ever so tightly.

“Don’t do that again,” you say against his neck. You feel his arms creeping around your waist, the box on the floor long forgotten. “It also pains me to think I’ll have to leave you.”

“I know baby,” he kisses your cheek, “Why were you early though? I was supposed to throw rose petals everywhere! The plan is now wasted.” He groans loudly as he carries you to the living room, settling on the couch with you on his lap.

“I’m here to stop you so I don’t have to clean your mess.” You answer, booping his nose with your index finger.

He gasps dramatically, hand slapping his mouth, “Babe it was a surprise, you know. That hurts.”

You just laugh at him before you were silenced by a sweet kiss from him, “That was actually one of the five boxes. Can you help me pick them up from the car?”

craving for angst to fluff stuff he he he i'm actually planning to make this one into a series so yeah tell me who you want to see next! requests are also always open :>

and yes, i’m trying to be more *active*

#aeolus scripts #aeolus flurry #Bokuto Koutarou #bokuto x reader #bokuto x yn #bokuto fluff #bokuto angst #hq fluff #hq drabbles #hq angst

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blurglesmurfklaine · 3 years ago

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Thanks for the Doritos!

Pairing: Klaine | Rating: T | Words: 1,410 | Tropes/Genres: BabBoy!Blaine, humor, friends to lovers, crime

Summary: Kurt and BadBoy!Blaine try to lift some chips from the local convenience store. Things don't go exactly as planned.

A/N: did i proofred this? no <3 i was anxious about my first day back at work and wrote this instead sorry not sorry Based on this this batshit tumblr post that gives me ALL the serotonin warnings for a non-canon character holding a gun and crime ig

Continue Reading Below or Read on AO3

“This is stupid. It’s not gonna work.”

“How would you know? We haven’t even tried it.”

“I feel like there’s a better way to satiate your case of the munchies than shoplifting from a Seven-Eleven.”

“The clerk gets paid the same whether or not the bastard CEOs of the company lose a couple of bucks. Unless you’ve magically conjured up a wad of cash?”

“You know I haven’t.” Kurt almost growls. Blaine doesn’t mean it that way, but they’ve had enough conversations about Burt’s medical bills that he should know tight money is a sensitive topic for Kurt. The defensive fire in his belly dies down a little when Blaine reaches out to squeeze his hand—his free one holding his trusty skateboard—reminding Kurt he’s not alone in his suffering.

Until meeting Blaine, Kurt would spend his afternoons at home, with nothing except reruns of Golden Girls to keep him company while he prepared his dad’s dinner.

And then one cold October afternoon, while Kurt was hiding from Karofsky and Azimio under the bleacher, he nearly tripped over a mass of black clothing. The bundle of black subsequently sat up, revealing a head of unkempt curls and a disgruntled snarl that softened into a smirk upon seeing Kurt’s face.

He offered Kurt a cigarette, his hand, and his name.

Ever since then, Blaine has shown Kurt in numerous ways that you don’t need to do anything to have a good time. All you need is a roof, the night, and two people who, for some reason neither can quite explain, care about each other.

“Don’t act so high and mighty, Hummel. We both know you’re no stranger to theft.”

“I’ve never stolen a thing in my life!”

Blaine looks over and makes a dramatic pouty face, complete with pleading puppy-dog eyes that make Kurt’s knees too weak for his liking. “Tell that to my weeping heart. I’m still picking up the pieces from you refusing my several offers of marriage.”

Kurt’s face burns red and he huffs, yanking his hand away. Blaine always does this. Ruins the moment with some dramatic, over-the-top fake flirting, as if he doesn’t know what he looks like—as if he doesn’t know Kurt’s head over heels for one of McKinley High’s most notorious bad boys. For God’s sake, he’s about to commit a misdemeanor just to get him a couple of bugles. Of course he’s in love with Blaine.

“Shut up before I change my mind.”

“As you wish.”

Kurt walks in first, gives a friendly smile and half-wave to the cashier before heading to the chip aisle. He loiters there for a minute or two before Blaine walks in, heading straight to the counter where he’ll pretend to be looking for a specific cigarette brand he can’t remember the name of.

The second the clerk has his back turned, Kurt ducks to the ground and rips open his backpack, quickly and quietly throwing an assortment of chips in, only pausing when he grabs a bag of Doritos. A smile cracks his face; they’re Blaine’s favorite.

He’s so preoccupied with putting extra ones in there, that he doesn’t even hear the ding from the bell of the front door.

The way Blaine will tell the story to Kurt later that night—and to others for years to come—he’ll say that the first thing he saw was the barrel of a shotgun sticking up above the stand of newspapers by the entrance, and that’s all it took for him to rush to Kurt’s side.

Kurt’s zipping up the backpack when there’s a familiar hand on his shoulder, and Blaine’s panicked face in front of his.

“Guy with a gun just walked in,” he exhales in a terrified breath.

Kurt’s eyes go wide as dinner plates, and although the shouting he can hear coming from the front of the store confirms it, he still can’t believe it. “There’s—what!?” he whisper-shouts. Almost instinctively, he tries to stand up to look over the aisle, but Blaine drags him back down.

“Get down!”

“Oh fuck,” Kurt cries, adrenaline spiking when he hears the robber’s angry shouts of curse words and demands of money. “We have to do something.”

Blaine nods, and his immediate agreement makes Kurt fall that much more in love with this idiot. “He can’t see us here. I’ll stay here, you go to the next aisle over. I’ll create a distraction, and I need you to—god, Kurt, if anything happens to you,” he places a tan hand in Kurt’s pale face, and the warmth makes Kurt gasp, “I need you to leave okay? Don’t you dare wait for me. Call the cops when you’re out.”

“But I—”

“Call the cops.”

There’s no time to argue, so Kurt just nods and hurriedly crouches his way to the right, until he’s in the aisle out of the robber’s eye line, but can still see him.

A second later, he hears Blaine’s skateboard collide with the metal of the counter and figures that’s his cue to run.

Now’s his chance to run straight out of the convenience store, like Blaine told him to. Like he most certainly should… but the robber’s turning towards the chip aisle, where Blaine is. The robber is turning to the chip aisle where Blaine is and has a fucking gun, and after months of overthinking this thing he has with Blaine—a friendship, but also implicitly more—Kurt doesn’t think at all.

With the robber’s back to him, Kurt breaks out into a sprint and tackles the lanky man to the floor.

Kick knacks, candies, and various other impulse buy items go flying as Kurt messily pins the disoriented thief to the floor in front of a large metal stand full of cookies.

Blaine comes from the other side, seemingly out of nowhere and frozen momentarily in shock. Through magic, some sort of telepathic bond, or sheer luck, he manages to read Kurt’s mind and as soon as Kurt scrambles off the man, heaves the metal stand on top of the assailant.

They share a wide-eyed look of panic, an unspoken agreement, before bolting out.

Blaine hops over the groaning robber to the previous aisle, to pick up his skateboard. Meanwhile, Kurt’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head as he locates the rifle, still alarmingly close to the robber’s hand.

It won’t even register until about an hour later that holy fucking shit he was holding a loaded gun, but for now he grabs it and runs towards the door, shoving it into the clerk’s hands before lining up with Blaine, skateboard and backpack in hand.

The clerk looks at them with equal parts shock and gratitude, before turning the rifle on the robber to ensure he doesn’t try to escape.

As the two boys race out the door, Kurt tosses out a “Thanks for the Doritos!” to the clerk.

They don’t stop running for a solid minute, but when they do Kurt’s hamstrings are burning and his lungs are on fire, throat sore from breathing in the cold air too quickly.

Hands on his knees and still panting, he looks at Blaine. “Oh, my god.”

Blaine looks up at him from a similar position, breaking out into a wide, beaming grin that morphs into a fit of laughter. “We just did that.”

“That was reckless,” Kurt says, astonished for a moment before joining Blaine in his laughter.

Laughter slowly dying down into chuckles, Blaine stands up straight and cups Kurt’s cheeks in his palms.

“I love you,” he says breathlessly, hints of laughter still lighting up his voice.

Before Kurt can throw his eyes back into his skull—because Blaine always says he loves Kurt, as a friend, of course—Blaine’s lips are on his, warm and solid against the cool autumn air and taking what little breath Kurt has away.

He’s a little more than speechless when they finally break apart. Blaine isn’t.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.”

“I… w-wait, so… this whole time… you weren’t fake flirting with me?”

“I mean, I might’ve been a little too playful with it, but I was hoping eventually you’d take the hint.”

“I… don’t do well with hints.”

“Alright, no more hints. In that case, can I just kiss you again?”

Kurt barely restrains a hiccuped little laugh. “You, Blaine Anderson, can kiss me anytime you’d like.”

And from that day on, he does.

#klaine #glee #kurt hummel #blaine anderson #wow look at me im writing!

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chaseatinydream · 4 years ago

Text

pirate king (1) || atz

The sounds of the waves crashing against shore, the white sea foam like clouds of the sky.

Salt touches your tongue as sea spray catches the light of the sun, casting a beautiful rainbow across your cheeks.

Seagulls circle in the clear blue expanse above, their cries ringing out for miles.

Rain lashes against your arms and droplets clings to your eyelashes. They resemble tears.

Lightning splits the darkness of the clouds and thunder akin to cannon shot rolls overhead, but there is no fear.

You smile wide, eyes closed, but then something in your chest weighs you down.

Suddenly, you’re yanked into the depths, water filling your nose and lungs and all at once, you cannot breathe. The weight in your chest drags you down, down, down, and no matter how hard you flail and thrash about, no matter how desperately you reach for the surface…

There is nothing but darkness.

Drip, drip, drip.

Your eyes flutter open softly, like a new butterfly’s wings. You’re lying on something wet and rough beneath your body, and to your horror, when you instinctively try to rub your eyes, your hands are bound together by a coarse, thick rope.

Right in front of you is a puddle of water and drops of water keeps falling into it, forming tiny ripples. You try to sit up as your eyes instinctively follow its path, up the grime ridden stone walls to the crack in the ceiling were rainwater seeps through. A spider lazily weaves its web in a corner and for a moment, you’re spellbound by it.

Crack!

You flail backwards at the deafening sound of a thunderclap, but your hands are tied together and you’re sent crashing to the ground painfully. Luckily, the ground is wet so the fall isn’t as painful as it could have been, but you still feel a tenderness in your hip where bare skin got dragged across uneven stone. You suck in a breath.

“Come on, it’s not that bad. Sit up again.”

Exhaling carefully, you roll onto your back, ignoring the pain of the small rocks digging into your side, and finally heave yourself up with a haphazard effort of numb limbs. Your bound ankles come into view, along with dirty, calloused bare feet. They’re tied with a thick red cord that there’s no chance you can cut through or untie, and when your mind finally screams at you the obvious, your heart stops.

“You’re in a prison.”

Your head snaps to the right, metal grills lining the tiny window in the room. To your left, the only exit secured with heavy metal bars, kept locked by three iron chains, each with a metal padlock at the end. Whoever locked you up here wanted to make sure you had no chance of escape. Before you can think any further, the sound of chattering and clanking metal wrenches you back to the present.

“-some woman down here.” The sound of heeled boots echoes down a flight of steps. There’s a soft squeak of leather and the man curses. “Damned stairs, what was that bastard Arthur thinking, holding a public execution today? Justice calls, my ass. He probably just wants to get rid some whore that heard his mouth running when he was drunk-”

“Quiet, Mannon!” Another voice, higher and hushed this time. “You never know if someone could overhear you! The governor will have you hanged!”

“Ha!” A derisive snort. To your mounting horror, their footsteps seem to be drawing nearer to your cell. “As if his men are going to lug themselves here to check on a mere prisoner. Lazing about in their offices all day, doing nothing but paperwork, afraid to get their hands dirty- Oh, she’s awake.”

Your face jerks upwards, but seconds later you flinch away from the light of the torch in the men’s hands. Slightly disoriented, you try to regain your bearings. That’s when the shorter and slightly rounded man pulls out a set of key from the pocket of his crimson uniform, moving towards your door. Your hope bubbles in your chest like a warm spring.

You watch, fascinated, as the chains slither away from the bars, landing in heaps on the floor. The man that resembles a bamboo stick draped in an ill fitting uniform steps forward and with a quick swipe of a pocket knife the ropes fall from your ankles. Warm blood rushes to your feet as if it’s the first time and you let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you.” You say gratefully, but the men simply stare at you, one unsympathetic and stone cold, the other won’t quite meet your eye. The portly one shakes his head, hand reaching down for the cord that binds your hands behind your back and tugs you to your feet carelessly.

“Don’t thank us for dragging you to the gallows, girlie.” The man snaps, unceremoniously shoving you forward. Before you fall, the other man catches you by the shoulders, steadying you. He’s warm.

“Mannon, stop doing this, alright?” His voice echoes somewhere far, far away, as if you’re underwater. You don’t register what he said.

Gallows?

“Yes, gallows, the place where people get hung, idiot.” A voice in your inner subconscious rings out, surprisingly clear even through the white noise that had filled your mind from panic. The insult manages to slap you back to your senses.

“Idiot?” You repeat to yourself under your breath, almost offended as the two guards pull you out of the cell and march you up the stairs with your hands tied behind your back. This laughingly pales in comparison to the actual trouble you are in.

Then it hits you full force.

You are walking to the gallows. Walking to your own death.

There’s a moment of serene peace for a moment, then you’re panicking, trying your best to recall what exactly has led you to this. What had you done to be deserving of the death penalty? You wrack your mind desperately for some some sort of answer, some sort of reason, but nothing comes forth except a blank, white canvas where your memories should be.

Where are your memories?

Fear floods through you like a tidal wave, rising and sweeping throughout every corner in your mind. It’s so real it’s palpable, clawing at your throat and stealing the breath from your lungs. There is nothing in your memories, no smiling parents, no first birthdays, no new pretty dresses, no favourite foods, nothing but white noise and the sound of waves crashing against shore.

How old are you? What did you eat yesterday? Why are you here?

Who are you?

You can’t even begin to fathom the answer to that one question.

“Hey, move it.” The rounder guard behind you shoves the small of your back forward, your bare feet dragging along the cobblestones of the street. The sky is dark and grey, as if weeping for all that you cannot remember and you see the townspeople peering at you and whispering to each other from tiny cracks in the doors and windows, no doubt wondering who it is unlucky enough to suffer the wrath of the official of the town. But there is not an ounce of recognition, only sympathy. Nobody cries for you, nobody tries to stop you as you take one step after another to the gallows. Nobody knows you.

You are alone.

Suddenly everything becomes so real to you. The feeling of cool rainwater as it trickles down your cheeks, the stone against your bare feet. The crisp cold air of a storm. The colour of the rain clouds. In another few minutes, you will be completely devoid of all sensation.

“I refuse.”

Like any thunderclap, the sound is deafening, it makes your eardrums ring and if your hands weren’t tied you’d clap them over your ears. But most thunderclaps don’t split buildings or cause massive screaming and mayhem.

“The official’s building!” The skinnier guard cries out in horror at the sight of the roof on one of the larger buildings on a hill collapse in on itself. There’s another ear splitting boom, and in the next second, your eyes manage to catch a glimpse of a round shape flying through the air before in plunges into the already collapsing building.

“Pirates!” You hear someone scream, his voice cracking with desperation and fright. “Pirates at the harbor-” His voice is abruptly cut off just as the clanging of a bell fills the air.

“Hurry, Philip! We need to get there!” The guard, Mannon, yanks on his partner’s arm and without a second glance back at you, they sprint down an alleyway, pulling sabers from hip sheathes.

You blink.

You’re free, just like that.

Your eyes dart around for something to free your hands with, but there’s nothing and you can hear the sounds of screaming getting ever closer. Townspeople are fleeing into buildings, doors being slammed shut, candles being extinguished, bolts drawn. From where the official’s building, you hear the click of several heeled boots pacing down the street in double time.

Between them and the pirates, you’d pick the pirates.

So with your hands bound behind your back, you dash down the same path your two captors took.

The sound of cannon fire fills your ears and there’s smoke everywhere. Your eyes sting, but you force yourself to keep moving, one foot in front of the other, one step at the time. There’s another earth shaking boom and suddenly the ground next to you explodes. You bite back the scream in your throat and continue running, you can’t afford to fall now. There are people all around you, dressed in the distinctive red coat of the law authorities here or in a motley array of tunics and breaches, both hold weapons, and both are dying.

As you move forward without looking back, there’s the sound of clashing metal, musket fire, screams of the wounded or dying. A man suddenly falls in front of you, blood pooling like a blossoming rose across the white of his undershirt, matching the vibrant red of his uniform. You leap over the corpse and turn back, staring open mouthed at his unclosing eyes, still wide in his shock, the slack muscles in his cheeks and jaw unmoving.

He’s dead.

You look up, almost instinctively. There’s a young man standing there, a long spear in hand. He’s wearing a sandy brown shirt over a white linen tunic and long, white pants that only accentuate his height tucked into knee high leather boots. His eyes, a soft brown beneath matching curls, meet yours for a split second.

Then you run.

You sprint as fast as you possibly can, feet flying over fallen swords and broken planks. You cannot stop. Through the acrid scent of smoke and gunpowder, you can finally smell it.

The sea.

In the harbor three ships are docked. One, with the emblem of a crimson rose embroidered onto its flag, has had its mainsail torn to shreds and the deck peppered with holes. Majority of its crew lie dead or unmoving, and even as you watch one of the last gun crews are blasted into the sea by a round cannonball, which shatters upon impact with the deck to form tiny, flying pieces of shrapnel that take out the gun crew beside it. The other ship, presumably a merchant vessel, is looted bare as its crew watches helplessly. Pirates heave chests of salted fish and silk cloth onto the third vessel.

The third ship is a large, ocean going vessel. Above its three sails on the mainmast flies its flag. A plain black design with the word ATEEZ in bright, bold orange, you immediately know this is the pirates’ ship. The harbor is chaos, clamoring of two sides to get the upper hand, but you can’t stop now. Taking a deep breath, you dash forward.

A blade narrowly misses your neck as you continue running with all your might, sliding under the business end of a swinging club. You barely feel the sting of your skin tearing as a stray musket ball nicks your upper arm, adrenaline pumping through your veins like a drug. You feel something warm and wet soak into the fabric of your sleeve, but like hell you’ll let that stop you now. By sheer dumb luck, you finally reach the gangplank of the pirate ship and dash up it, the wood creaking beneath your feet. They might be bleeding after that mad dash through town, but you’re here.

Now what?

Fighting is still going on all around. Pirates work in small groups to fight off boarding officers as they try to swarm the pirates. You hear a voice shout out “Fire in the hole!” over the din, and the five subsequent explosions send the boat rocking from side to side.

You’re still not safe.

Glancing around desperately, your eyes fall onto a small hatch in the main deck. Dodging the end of an ax on the path of its back swing, you leap for the trapdoor. Thank heavens you’re barefoot, because only with your toes you manage to nudge the bolt open and pull the hatch open. It’s stairs, leading down into the gloom of the storage hold, and from what you can hear, relatively quiet.

You’ll take your chances.

With a painful grunt, you take the stairs two at the time and your legs give out at the last moment. You crash to the floorboards just as the hatch closes over your head, throwing you into darkness except the faint shafts of light coming in from the cracks in the upper deck. Your ankle throbs with pain, but you don’t have time to worry about that. You frantically drag yourself behind a few barrels in the corner, out of sight of anyone coming down the steps and huddle down, praying for the ship to sail as fast as possible.

As if the gods were listening, you hear someone above deck shouting commands. “Weigh the anchor! Unfurl the sails! Wooyoung, fire the retreat flare!”

The voice is deep as the ocean and has an unmistakable air of command. You hear the pirates scrambling to carry out the orders, footsteps thudding across the deck and from the screams and splashes next to you, they are tossing the town officers overboard too. Not a second later another massive boom rocks the ship side to side, you knock your head on the barrels and a bundle of sackcloth falls onto you.

“Oww…” You mutter under your breath feeling something warm trickling down your temple, but then suddenly you hear the same, deep voice issuing commands again.

“Raise the gangplank, make way!”

There’s a sudden jerk of movement as the wind fills the sails. You gasp as you are almost thrown forward, barely regaining your balance at the last moment as the ship begins moving away from the harbor. The furious cries and jeers of the town officers fade away, replaced the sound of the sails beating in the wind and the lapping of waves against the side of the ship.

Home, your mind tells you.

As if all the fight has left you in a single moment, you slump back against the wall, the energy thrumming in your veins evaporating like steam, leaving only a sore ache in your limbs. You should really tend to the cut on your head or find some way to free your hands, but the overwhelming exhaustion crashes over you. The sackcloth is really warm, and you need to be properly rested before you can think of a plan.

“Maybe I’ll just close my eyes for a few seconds.” You tell yourself as your eyelids slide shut and your breathing slows. You sink into a deep sleep.

It feels like you’ve barely closed your eyes when a voice shakes you out of your slumber.

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marty101sblog · 4 years ago

Text

17-year-old Brian Moore had only a short time to write something for a

class. The subject was what Heaven was like. "I wowed 'em," he later told

his father, Bruce. "It's a killer. It's the bomb. It's the best thing I ever

wrote.." It also was the last.

Brian Moore died May 27, 1997, the day after Memorial Day. He was driving

home from a friend's house when his car went off Bulen Pierce Road in

Pickaway County and struck a utility pole. He emerged from the wreck

unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was electrocuted.

The Moores framed a copy of Brian's essay and hung it among the family

portraits in the living room. "I think God used him to make a point. I think

we were meant to find it and make something out of it," Mrs. Moore said of

the essay. She and her husband want to share their son's vision of life

after death. "I'm happy for Brian. I know he's in heaven. I know I'll see

him."

Brian's Essay: The Room...

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room.

There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with

small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list

titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which

stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction,

had very different headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to

catch my attention was one that read "Girls I have liked." I opened it and

began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that

I recognized the names written on each one. And then without being told, I

knew exactly where I was.

This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my

life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a

detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled

with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and

exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense

of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if

anyone was watching.

A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I have betrayed." The

titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird "Books I Have Read,"

"Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have Given," "Jokes I Have Laughed at ." Some

were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've yelled at my

brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger",

"Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents." I never ceased to be

surprised by the contents.

Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I

hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could

it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these

thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth.

Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature.

When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows I have watched", I realized the

files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly and yet

after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it,

shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast time I knew

that file represented.

When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through

my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size

and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content.

I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal

rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see these

cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In insane

frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it

and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the

floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out

a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it.

Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my

forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh.

And then I saw it... The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel with."

The handle was brighter than those around it, seemed newer, almost unused. I

pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell

into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand.

And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt. They

started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I

cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file

shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this

room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away the

tears, I saw Him.

No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as

He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His

response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw

a sorrow deeper than my own.

He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read

every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He

looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger

me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again.

He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things.

But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me.

Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of

the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over

mine on each card. "No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say

was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these

cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, and so alive. The

name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took

the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't

think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it

seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side.

He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished." I stood up,

and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were

still cards to be written.

"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."-Phil. 4:13 "For God

so loved the world that He gave His only son, that whoever believes in Him

shall not perish but have eternal life." If you feel the same way forward it

so the love of Jesus will touch their lives also. My "People I shared the

gospel with" file just got bigger, how about yours?

You don't have to share this with anybody, no one will know whether you did

or not, but what do you feel in your heart? .....I pulled this from my other page. Please feel free to share this❤

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elianamarie-blog · 4 years ago

Text

The Things You Give Part 16

eteven Hyde X Reader

Here is part 16! I know it’s a little short, but I’m hoping I can still deliver! Let me know what you think. Tags list is open!

Hyde and the rest of the boys didn’t return home from the party until almost five am. Y/n heard Eric and Hyde stumble their way downstairs and into their respective rooms before hearing Eric’s door quietly shut. So, it was a no surprise when she woke up around nine-thirty, the boys weren’t at the breakfast table.

“Hi Ma,” she greeted Kitty in a chipper tone and sat down next to Red. “Hi, Daddy.”

“Hey, you seem to be feeling better,” Kitty commented and passed her a plate with eggs, bacon, and toast.

“I am. I finally feel like I have my appetite back,” Y/n said and greedily grabbed the plate, ready to dump the contents of it down her throat. Her stomach knotted and rumbled as she started shoveling food into her mouth. She hummed, satisfied.

“Boy, you’re really hungry,” Kitty said. “All that time throwing up, you got to put some stuff back in.

Y/n hummed again, this time in response. “I forgot how good food tastes.”

“So, where are the boys?” Kitty asked as she focused on her own food.

“They went out to a party last night and didn’t get home till late,” Y/n answered casually.

“Well, that explains the noises I heard,” Kitty answered. “Did you go with them?”

“No, why?”

“Because I heard a girl’s voice last night and I thought it was you,” Kitty replied confused.

“What?” Y/n asked, suddenly not hungry anymore.

“What? Steven brought another girl home?” Red asked, annoyed, breaking the tension in the air. “He knows he’s not allowed to bring home any floozies home!”

“He brought home a girl?” Y/n asked, trying not to sound hurt. She shrugged, trying to come off as she didn’t care. She took a couple more bites before she couldn’t take it anymore and dropped her fork on her plate. “I’ll be right back.”

“Oh, honey, don’t tell me you’re feeling sick already,” Kitty asked, worried.

“Maybe. I think I ate too fast,” she lied and excused herself to the basement.

Down on the couch, she caught a blonde sleeping soundly on the couch. Her heart sank once again as she stormed her way into Steven’s room who was sleeping soundly in his bed. It took everything in her to not grab the nearest thing and beat him. Instead, she knelt beside him and gently kissed his lips, waking him.

He gently woke and slowly opened his eyes, grinning when he saw her. Clearly, he was still a little drunk.

“Honey?” she said sweetly.

“Yeah, baby?” he croaked, his morning voice much deeper and dare she say it, very sexy. If she wasn’t seething, she’d want to do it with him right there and then.

“You want to tell me what the hell a girl is doing on the couch?!” she practically yelled.

Steven immediately sat up, sobering up quickly. “What?”

“Look, I know you’re still a little drunk, but there is a blonde bitch on my couch and I’d like to know why,” Y/n said and crossed her arms. “Who is she and what is she doing here?”

“That’s Amber,” he replied and sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Oh, Amber?” she couldn’t help but show her green side. “That doesn’t explain why the hell Amber is on my couch.”

“You think I brought her home?” Steven asked, feeling insulted.

“That’s why I’m asking.”

“I can’t believe you’d think I’d do that to you!”

“Well, you still haven’t answered the question!”

“No, I didn’t bring her home!” he raised his voice, now standing in front of her. “Kelso brought her here and then ditched her when she passed out.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Y/n argued. “Why would Kelso bring a girl here and then ditch her?”

“I don’t know! We were all pretty sloshed last night,” Hyde answered. “God, why are you interrogating me?”

Now catching sight of his full face, she caught a slight red smudge across his lips. She could feel her heart physically breaking. “What’s that on your face?”

“What?” he asked and rubbed at his cheek.

“No,” she replied and brought a handheld mirror, that was laying on his bedside table, to his face. “What the hell is on your mouth? Is that lipstick?!”

Hyde was confused until he saw his reflection and did, indeed, see something red smudged on her face. His eyes widened in fear as he lowered the mirror and met her glazed eyes. If he were being honest, he barley remembered last night and didn’t know where that came from. “Wait, y/n. I can explain—”

Before she let him, she ran out the room to the couch where the girl was sleeping and looked at her face. She had a matching shade of lipstick, faded on her lips. She gasped and turned to him.

“How could you?!” she screamed at him, awaking Amber.

“What’s going on?” she slurred, valley girl accent mixed with sleepiness shined through.

“You kissed my boyfriend you slut!” Y/n screamed and lunged at her, but Steven caught her around her waist and pulled her back.

Amber scrambled for her shoes and her coat, running out the door. Y/n watched her leave and then slowly turned to Steven with her hands on her hips. She was fighting tears as she stared at the man before her; scared and trembling. Hyde knew he was about to lose her if he didn’t act quickly.

“Y/n, baby, please let me explain,” he said, shaking and reached out for her, but she quickly pulled away. Hurt flashed across his face, but quickly went away when he saw the tears racing down her cheeks. “I didn’t kiss her.”

“Then why do you have her lipstick on your lips?” she asked, her voice breaking.

He wanted to get on his knees and beg for her forgiveness, but he didn’t know what he would be begging her forgiveness for. He couldn’t remember last night. All he remembered were flashing and blurring lights, lots of alcohol, and chicks draping over him.

“I…don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I don’t remember anything from last night.”

She let out a choked sob and turned away from him. “You made out with some girl and don’t even remember it?”

“How could you assume that I made out with a chick without me remembering?” he asked, trying to be logical. “What if she kissed me?”

She turned back to him, her eyes red. “And did you let her?”

“I don’t think so,” he answered and screwed his eyes shut, fighting to remember the night before. “I remember her coming up to me and flirting with me, but then I turned away and that’s it. I can’t remember anything else.”

“Well, try,” she snapped.

“Please, doll, you have to believe me,” he begged and grabbed for her hands. “I love you. I would never do that to you.”

“This is exactly what Zack did to me,” she whispered and didn’t even try to choke back a sob. She felt her chest start to collapse on her and she felt her legs grow weak. Hyde’s heart broke at the sight of her and felt an even heavier weight fall on his chest when he knew he couldn’t help her feel better. “I trusted you.”

“You can still trust me,” he said, his voice weak. “I didn’t do anything.”

“The lipstick says otherwise,” she growled and yanked her hands away from his. “I need some air. I can’t even look at you right now.”

She turned to leave and at that moment, Kelso walked through the door wearing fresh new clothes. Y/n pushed passed him without a word and ran up the cement stairs.

Kelso looked to Hyde who looked like he was about to collapse himself. “What happened?” he asked.

“Y/n thinks I cheated on her with that Amber chick,” he replied, legs wobbling. He took a seat on the couch and put his face in his hands, hunching over. “She doesn’t believe me when I say I didn’t. But given the way it looks, I probably wouldn’t believe me neither.”

“Well, that’s cause you didn’t,” Kelso said matter-of-factly and sat down beside him.

“What?”

“She came onto you,” Kelso explained.

“Again, what?”

“Well, Amber, for some reason, wanted you instead of me, so all night she was following you around like a lost puppy. When you left to use the restroom, that’s when she used the opportunity to get you alone and when she planted one on you, you pushed her away and told her to kick rocks.”

“How do you know that?”

“Well, I saw the whole thing.”

“And why was she here?”

“Because she was too drunk to go home and she couldn’t give Eric her address, so you let her crash here instead,” Kelso responded, knitting his eyebrows together.

Hyde’s eyes began to water, but he quickly covered them by rubbing his eyes and swiped a hand down his face. “Did Forman see anything too?”

“Yeah, he saw the whole thing.”

A light bulb went off in Hyde’s head and he jumped up. “I need you to help me prove that to y/n,” he said.

“How?”

“I don’t know…maybe you and Forman can get her to sit down and listen.”

“You really think that’s going to work?”

“It has to.”

“Alright, well when Forman wakes up, we need to find her,” Hyde said and made his way back to his room to change.

“Sounds like a plan, but first, coffee.”

--Time Skip—

Y/n didn’t even know how she got there, but she somehow found herself driving to the water tower. She felt safest up there; isolated, alone, and quiet. Where the wind allowed her to weep and sob, wiping her tears as it carried the sounds away into the air. Where she felt the sun kiss her and envelope her in its warm embrace and the moon to shine brightly down at her, as if listening to her cries and rants.

She climbed her way up the tower and before she could sit down, she broke down into ugly and shuddering sobs. She trusted him. She trusted him. The feeling of his safety lied. It lied! The timer, the feeling, the love, all of it!

She brought a hand to her stomach and wondered what was going to happen now. She thought she felt hurt before, but this kind of pain was worse than she’s ever felt. She never thought this man would ever betray her or make her feel low as she did now. Her chest and stomach hurt, and she couldn’t tell if the nausea was coming from the crying or the pregnancy.

Tears continued to rain down her face as she looked up at the sky, asking God why? She had so many questions she wanted to ask, but her heart and soul wouldn’t allow her to. Why did she get stuck in situations with these kind of men? Why was she so stupid like this? Why did she have to fall in love with hers and brother’s best friend? But all she could think is, why?

She looked back down at herself and noticed how pathetic she must’ve looked. How embarrassed she was just to be up there, feeling alone, scared, humiliated, and most of all: hurt. How could she let another guy do this to her and worst of all, knock her up? Now, he was really going to leave her.

“Hey,” a soft voice said, pulling y/n out of her tumultuous thoughts.

“Hey,” she responded, watching as Donna pulled herself onto the water tower. “You hear what happened, huh?”

“Yep,” Donna answered and sat next to y/n.

“How did you know where to find me?”

Donna scoffed. “It was either here or Mt. Hump. Thought I’d check here first.”

Y/n couldn’t help but give her a half smile; A smile of appreciation. “Where is he?”

“Looking for you.”

“I don’t want to see him right now.”

“Maybe you don’t, but you should really hear him out,” Donna said gently. “He has all of us looking for you.”

Elena groaned. “I’m a mess. I don’t want to see anybody right now.”

“Please?” she asked. “He really needs to explain what happened.”

“What’s there to explain?” Elena asked and wished she had a beer in her hand. “He kissed another chick.”

“Uhm, no. That’s actually not what happened.”

“Oh, he told you too?” Elena wiped at her face and glared at the trees in front of her.

“No, actually Eric and Kelso did.”

“What?” Elena asked and turned to Donna. “What does that mean?”

“Eric and Kelso saw the whole thing.”

“And?”

Donna sighed and turned to look at y/n fully. “He was telling you the truth. I really think you should go talk to Eric and Kelso. They saw the whole thing.”

Y/n looked down at her shoes, fighting tears. “I haven’t even told him yet.”

“Well, now’s a good time, don’t you think?” Donna asked and brushed y/n’s hair off her shoulder. “It’s gives you a chance to explain your crazy hormones.”

“Hey, I didn’t overreact.” Donna gave her a look. “Okay, maybe a smidgen.”

“Look, you had every right to think and feel the way you did, but you didn’t have to attempt a murder on her.”

“Yeah, that’s my bad.”

“Come on, let’s go.”

Y/n followed Donna down the ladder only to be met with the group, minus Hyde, waiting for her at the bottom. “What the hell is this? I thought I was meeting everyone back at the basement?”

“Not yet,” Eric said, coming forward. “Y/n, you have to believe Hyde. He didn’t kiss that girl. She came onto him and when she did, he pushed her away.”

Y/n’s face softened. “Really?”

“Yes,” he responded. “Kelso and I saw the whole thing.”

“Oh,” y/n sighed and sat down on the hood of the car. “Well, what do you guys expect me to believe when her lipstick is on his mouth?”

“I know. I would’ve thought the same thing,” Jackie answered and sat down next to her. “But Steven wouldn’t do that.”

“Yeah, he always said he doesn’t need the drama in his life to handle two chicks like when Kelso juggled Laurie and Jackie,” Donna chuckled.

“Hey, that was a bad time for me,” Michael defended.

“And then Hyde would say, ‘Bad for you, hilarious for us,’” Fez said, mocking the best American accent he could.

“I guess you guys are right,” Y/n said shamefully.

“Yeah, you should probably apologize to him,” Kelso said. “From what he told me, you went crazy when you saw Amber.”

Y/n scoffed. “I did not. I just don’t like other bitches coming onto him.”

“He said you lunged at her,” Eric deadpanned.

“Okay, yeah, well that I did, but—”

“You’re jealous,” Kelso smiled. “You love him! You think of another woman being all up in business and you lose it!”

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” Y/n said waving her hand.

“But you loooooovvee him,” Kelso sang-song.

“Kelso, stop,” Y/n warned.

Kelso laughed and leaned against the car. “That girl was hot though. I wonder if she’s hot in bed.”

Y/n shook her head and rubbed her temples.

“I mean, I can’t believe that she chose Hyde over me,” he continued, ignoring y/n’s death glare. “I’m the one with the good looks, not him.”

“Yeah,” Y/n responded. “But Hyde’s the one with the brains.”

“Yeah, but that’s not what chicks want.”

“What do we want then?” Donna challenged him.

“Well, you know, a good lookin’ guy who can please his woman,” Kelso answered as if it was obvious.

“You know what girls want right?” Y/n asked. “They don’t want a guy like you, who by the way, I’ve heard you’re not the best in the sack—”

“Jackie!” Kelso screeched, turning towards Jackie who was leaning against the car.

“What?!” she asked. “I didn’t say anything! Recently.”

“Jackie didn’t have to say anything,” Y/n answered. “You’ve slept your way around the whole town that almost every woman in this town have something in common with each other. Women talk, man.”

“Well, you know what, y/n? Guys don’t like girls like you: loud and not slutty,” Kelso retaliated.

“Is that supposed to be an insult?” Y/n laughed. “Alright, girls like guys that know how to read.”

“Guys like girls who aren’t bitches.”

“Girls like guys who’s thing isn’t small!” Y/n countered and narrowed her eyes. “Yeah, I’ve seen you when you streak, Kelso. It is not impressive as you say it is. Hyde definitely outdoes you.”

Donna laughed, Jackie exclaimed in shock while laughing, Fez yelled, “Burn!” and Eric screeched, causing y/n to smirk at Kelso.

“Yeah! Well,” Kelso countered off, cheeks puffing and reddening. “Guys don’t like chubby girls!”

Y/n’s smile dropped instantly. “That’s not funny! That’s not even true!”

Kelso mimicked the smirk y/n was wearing a minute prior. “But it is!” he continued. “You used to be really hot but here lately, you’re starting to puff up. Maybe you should jump on a treadmill, huh Chubsters?”

Y/n’s blood started to boil. She knew she was starting to look the slightest swollen, but she didn’t think anyone would notice, but of course Kelso notices everything on a woman’s body. That pig.

Kelso noticed that he was getting under her skin, so he kept going. “Yeah, I’m surprised Hyde hasn’t noticed how puffy your cheeks have gotten.”

Y/n gently brought her hands up to her burning face. She wanted to hit him—no, she wanted to puke on him, but she couldn’t control it like that. Donna and Jackie noticed her demeanor and shot Kelso a warning look, but of course he didn’t even acknowledge them.

“Don’t you bring Hyde into this!” Y/n practically screamed and Fez had to jump in front of y/n. With them so immersed in the conversation, no one heard the El Camino pull up behind them.

“Hey, hey calm down, now,” Fez whispered in her ear.

“No, I will not calm down!”

“Why? Does that bother you?” Kelso smirked.

“Kelso, I swear to God, if you don’t stop, I’m going to hit you so hard, your ancestors are going to feel it!” Y/n growled.

“It might actually make him smart for once,” Donna grumbled to Jackie who snickered.

“Why does it bother you so much anyway?” Kelso genuinely asked.

“Because I’m pregnant, you ass!” Y/n’s eyes widened as she realized what she just said. She looked over to see Donna and Jackie giving her the same look while Fez and Kelso stared at her open mouthed. She didn’t even want to turn around to see Eric’s reaction.

“You’re pregnant?”

Y/n spun around to see Hyde standing behind her stiff as a board, eyes frantically searching her face. He was silently begging that he misheard.

“Steven,” she gasped. “What’re you doing here?”

“Looking for you,” he answered quietly. “You’re pregnant?” he repeated.

The air around them was so still that y/n could hear her own heart beating in his ears. With a shaky breath, she replied under her breath, “Yes.”

Behind them, Eric was fuming. He’d never felt rage like this before and could’ve sworn, all he needed to do was turn green and he’d be the Hulk.

“You got my sister pregnant, you son of a bitch?!”

“What—” Before Hyde could finish his sentence, Eric had him on the ground, punching him anywhere he could get his fist to land.

“Eric! Stop!” Y/n yelled and ran over to her twin brother, trying to get him off Steven.

Steven laid there, arms shielding his face as he tried to dodge Eric’s punches. For someone being as skinny as him, he had very sharp and painful blows.

“Get off of him!” Y/n continued to shout as she tugged on Eric’s shoulder, but he flicked her hand off him as if she was a pest. “Eric, stop! You’re going to hurt him!”

“I’m pretty sure that’s the idea,” Fez said and recoiled when y/n turned around to glare at him.

“Are you guys not going to do anything?!” she asked exasperated. Kelso and Fez still stood there in shock, not able to move.

Hyde managed to grab Eric’s fists and twist them, causing a painful shriek to escape him as he fell to Steven’s side. Steven quickly got up backed away from Eric.

“Forman, you need to calm down!” he shouted as Eric stood.

“No, I am not going to calm down!” he yelled. “I can’t believe you did this!”

“Hey, it’s not just him!” Y/n defended. “It takes two, you know.”

“I don’t even want to look at you right now,” Eric spat at his twin and turned back to Hyde. “I told you to be careful! Now crap is really going to hit the fan!”

“Eric, you need to calm down!” Donna called out to her irate boyfriend.

“How are you so calm?!” Eric’s eyes somehow grew bigger. “You knew, didn’t you?!”

“Yes, I did,” she answered calmly. “I was the first one she told.”

“And you didn’t tell me anything?!”

“No, because she asked that I didn’t.”

Eric turned to y/n. “Throughout all of this, why haven’t I been the one you can come to? You came to me for everything and now it’s like you want to keep me out completely.”

“It’s not that, Eric. It’s just…I didn’t know how to process this myself. I’m scared and I don’t know how I’m going to tell Mom and Dad!”

“You’re going to tell Dad?” Eric laughed. “Give me a heads up so that I’m not around.”

“Why are you being such a dillhole?” Y/n seethed. “Look, I know you’re beyond pissed right now, but I could really use your help.”

“Why should I?” Eric snapped.

“Because when you and Donna thought she was pregnant last year, I did whatever I could to help and make sure you didn’t get slaughtered by dad!”

“Well, clearly, you didn’t do a great job because I still got my ass kicked!”

“Dad was going to send you off to military school and I begged him not to,” Y/n pointed out. “I needed you here then and I need you now.”

Eric’s eyes softened but did not leave her face.

“Please, Eric,” she begged and grabbed his hand. “I need my twin by my side throughout all of this. You can’t leave again.”

Eric stared in his twin’s tear-filled y/c/e and turned away before he could give in. “I…I need to be alone.”

He turned away and stormed back into his car, driving off. Y/n sighed and turned around to face the others. Steven was staring at her while Donna and Jackie awkwardly stared at the ground. Kelso and Fez anxiously waited for anyone to say something.

“Look, Steven, I—”

“How far along are you?” he cut in.

Y/n swallowed hard. “Four weeks.”

Steven exasperated sighed. “You’re a month along and you didn’t even tell me?!”

“I tried!” she defended. “But every time I did, we kept getting interrupted.”

Steven turned away from her and ran a hand down his face. “Is it even mine?”

“Oh, dude,” Kelso sighed, shaking his head and nudged Fez. “Not even I did that.”

“You did try to deny it,” Fez responded. “Went as far as to run away out the bathroom window at the hub.”

Jackie nudged Fez in the ribs causing both of them to shut up.

Y/n’s jaw dropped. “How can you even say that?! Of course, it is, you dillhole!”

Hyde was silent for a minute before he shook his head. “God, why is it that every time something major happens, we have a freaking audience?!”

“I don’t know, Steven,” she sighed. “I guess God thinks it’s hilarious this way.”

“I don’t know how to take this,” he said and started pacing. “I’m going to be a father. We’re only eighteen and we’re going to be parents.”

“I know.”

“What are we going to do?” he asked, panic lacing its way through his voice.

“I don’t know yet. That’s why we need to sit down and discuss this.”

“Yeah, I don’t know if I can do that right now,” he and fished for his keys in his pocket.

Y/n knitted her eyebrows together. “What do you mean?”

“I have to go,” he replied without looking at her as he got in his car.

“Where are you going?”

“I need to think,” he said shortly and quickly got in his car and drove off, leaving y/n with everyone else.

“Oh, God, y/n, I’m so sorry,” Kelso said gently.

“Sorry for what?” Y/n asked, her voice cracking. “It’s not like he’s leaving or anything. He just needs some time to think. And I think…I’m going to do the same.”

As she grabbed her keys from her coat pocket, Donna stopped her. “Are you okay? Do you need us for anything?”

Y/n quickly shook her head before she could start crying. “No, I just need to be alone right now.”

Donna nodded and watched y/n get in her car and drive off.

Jackie nudged Donna gently. “You think this going to go down smoothly?”

“No,” Donna responded honestly. “Not at all.”

Taglist: @jeeperky @05-feet-off-the-table-06 @cooloclown @mdittyz123 @n-dg-wm @undead-sierra @random-thoughts-003 @lieswithoutfairytales @taysirene

#that 70s show #That '70s Show #that 70's show fanfic #Steven Hyde #Eric Forman #kitty forman #red forman #laurie forman #Donna Pinciotti #Michael Kelso #fez #jackie burkhart

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gallickingun · 5 years ago

Note

could i request 48 with bakugo? i really love how you write him and i love your writing in general 🥰

a/n: you are so kind, thank you so much! my heart is in a fluffy place today so here is some sweet stuff!! well, it ends sweet. beginning is angsty :)

DID I HEAR SOMEBODY SAY BOXER!BAKUGOU????

Prompt #48: I called you at 2am because I need you.

“Fuck,” Bakugou brushes the heels of his hands over his eyes, one completely swollen shut and the other weeping uncontrollably. He fumbles in his pocket for his phone, bloody fingertips smearing over his screen. Another string of expletives tumble from his lips before he can find your name in his contacts.

He can’t help but note the time on his phone - 2:37 am.

“Please pick up,” Bakugou swallows the growing lump in his throat, “C’mon, pl-oh, hey.”

Your voice rings out on the other end of the receiver, gravelly from sleep but he can’t even notice because he’s just so thankful that you’re awake now.

His voice cracks when he speaks next, “C-Can you...shit, can you come pick me up?”

You rattle something off, not even asking where he’s at because you already know. This isn’t the first time you’ve had to pry his backside up off the concrete after a particularly difficult match. But, he has always had his main rule - no hospitals.

He hears the telltale beep of your side of the line cutting out and the nerves roll off of his shoulders in waves. He sinks further down the sidewalk, the brick scraping his already raw skin, but his adrenaline is pumping too hot for him to feel much of it.

When you arrive, less than a half hour later, he’s snoring against the wall of the alleyway, a garbage bin not too far away. You shake your head and step forward, smacking him on the back of the head to wake him up, “Alright, sunshine, time to go. Can you walk?”

“Oi, for Christ’s sake,” Bakugou rubs at the tender skin at the back of his head, “I could have a head injury, you bitch!”

You point your finger in his face, the tip of your nail grazing his bloody nose, “Call me a bitch one more time, Katsuki, and I will leave your ass in the street. They can pick you up tomorrow with the rest of the trash.”

Bakugou wants to snarl, wants to snap and bite at your finger, smarting off to you with some retort, but instead he keeps his mouth shut, shrinking back so you’ll leave him alone. He’s not in the mood to argue, not now. He’s already lost one fight tonight, and he doesn’t really feel like losing another.

Besides, the last argument the two of you had didn’t exactly go his way.

You help him up, lacing his arm over the length of your shoulders. He’s sticky with blood, but still warm to the touch. You help him hobble into your SUV, opening the trunk for him to climb in. You’ve lined the back with a sheet and plastic tablecloth so your car won’t be obscenely dirty after this, and your meticulousness makes him chuckle.

“Feel like a dog,” he mutters, dragging his legs up into the vehicle.

You toss his bag in next, grazing his bruised thigh as it skids to the other side of the trunk. Bakugou’s eyes go wide and he digs his hands into the sheet underneath him instead of mouthing off like he wants to. The last thing he needs is you tossing him out of the back of your car at high speed.

“You are a dog,” you answer.

The next thing he knows, you’re slamming the trunk and making your way to the driver’s seat. Something in him wants to speak, wants to say thank you or how have you been? However, when you turn up the music and the familiar piercing sound of hard rock hits his eardrums, he knows better than to say anything. Instead, Bakugou leans his head back against your window and dozes in and out of sleep.

He’s shaken awake by the slamming of your door, the soles of your boots stomping against the concrete of your garage. The trunk door opens and he squints his eyes against the bright LED light attached to the ceiling. He swallows, snatching his bag as he swings his legs over the bumper. It hurts, and his face must show it because you step closer.

He waves you away, insistent on dragging his own ass inside. You take a stride backward and watch as he struggles to stand upright. His knees give out and a string of curse words part his lips but before he can crumble to the ground, you’re underneath him, catching his body in your arms. You lift him up as much as you can, thankful he’s shed the flashy costume in favor of a signature black tank top and cargo pants. It’s much lighter and not nearly as bulky.

The two of you hobble over the threshold and towards the bathroom. It takes a few minutes because he’s slow and heavy in your hands, but eventually you make it.

“Get in the tub,” you instruct, turning on the water. You disappear into the hallway to grab a few towels and the first aid supplies, which gives him enough time to try and slip out of his tank.

When you return, he’s got his elbows stuck in his shirt, unable to yank it over the top of his head. You sigh, “You’re hopeless, you idiot.”

You snag his shirt and tug it over his head, having to extend your arms all the way given his height. Bakugou hisses as the tank sticks to a particular wound, the crusted blood on his shirt the only thing keeping it plugged. You ball up the fabric at the hem and give it a final tug, tossing it in the sink once it’s peeled from his body.

“God, what kind of guy did you fight?” You examine the cut which is now seeping blood, crimson dripping down the contours of his obliques. Bakugou peers down at you, a grimace ever present on his face, “Fuckin’ crazy ass. Fingernails were knives, super strength and shit.”

You shake your head and huff out a laugh, “Do you need help?”

The word ‘yes’ never leaves his mouth, but the wounded look in his eyes tells you all that you need to know. You unbutton his pants and drag the cargos slowly down his legs, careful not to reopen any major wounds. You do notice a few scrapes and gashes on his thighs and calves, making you wince at the sight. He steps out of the pants, the sensation of the cool tile welcome against his hot feet.

You’ll never get over the way his sweat smells - or rather, doesn’t smell. The scent radiating off of him reminds you of a campfire, of a summer evening spent in front of a set of flames, making s’mores and laughing with friends. His quirk seems to have nothing but upsides - not only is he both offensively and defensively a force of nature, but it also gives him a sweet aroma that deters the stench of salty sweat in favor of sugary nitroglycerin.

Bakugou kicks off his underwear, facing away from you, and you’re able to drink in his full form - he’s been taller than six foot since the last you could remember and it would seem he’s filled out even more in the past couple of months than when you last saw him. Even when he’s bruised and battered, he’s still beautiful, that much you know.

As he winces and his eyes close, you take the time to look over his shattered body. He’s got blooming purple and blue bruises all over his torso, little red cuts to offset the color range. Even still, the solid way he’s build, muscle and sinew wrapped around dense bones, makes your heart turn in your chest.

Bakugou breaks you from your trance as he steps into the bathtub, wincing and gasping as the water hits his open wounds. He sinks down to his neck in the bath water, the bubbles doing just enough to hide him from you.

“Damn,” he rolls his shoulders, swallowing the lump caught in his throat. He rolls his neck and his jugular pulses obviously, jaw muscles tensing under the pressure of his teeth as they grind together.

You drag the damp rag over the cut on his shoulder, trying to ignore the way his face screws up in pain. You sigh, “I think you’re gonna need stitches. Are you sure you don’t wan-”

“No hospitals,” he shakes his head, “you know what would happen.”

A growl rolls around in your throat but you swallow it, instead focusing on cleaning his wounds. Your cheeks heat from the closeness of his naked body, even though he’s submerged in bathwater and injured from head to toe. Bakugou has always been able to get you heated, no matter the situation.

“You can get your legs,” you tell him, wiping at his face with a new rag, staining the grey fabric red. Tears settle in the bottom of your eyelids, threatening to spill over the more you think about the situation he’s in. Despite the fact that he’s there completely out of his own volition, it still makes your heart wrench seeing him broken down like this.

The water is tinged a reddish brown when you’re done and he unplugs the bathtub. You hand him the towel before you get an eyeful of him, walking to stand in the doorway while he dries off.

“I set you some clothes on the back of the toilet,” you choke out the words, tilting your head to look up at the ceiling. He’s chuckling but it’s cut off by a grimace, “Still haven’t burned these yet?”

You kick your foot against the carpet in the hall, “Katsuki, just because you pissed me off doesn’t mean I’m not still your best friend.”

The words hurt as you say them, but you have to spit them out so they don’t die in your stomach. Being labeled as something so platonic has haunted you for decades now, ever since those playground days spent with the blonde, trying to pick up his mess and put back together those he’d hurt.

Bakugou makes the toilet seat shudder when he collapses on top of it, body hunched over from effort. He sighs, “I know you hate this.”

It’s his version of an apology, of words that he can’t ever seem to spit out right. It’s the exact reason you told him to leave you out of his irresponsible and illegal activities. Using quirks to fight was considered a heavy offense, landing some individuals life in prison. Katsuki learned to fight on the streets, and when he wasn’t accepted into U.A., he turned to underground fighting rings to satiate his need for justice and penance.

“You’re right,” you gulp, turning to crouch in front of him. You’re on your knees when you pull out the suture kit, “I do hate this. So why did you call me?”

His hand finds the fabric of your hoodie, curling around it to use as an anchor as you start to stitch up the particularly large gash on his rib cage. Bakugou grits his teeth, the answer coming out strained, “You’re all I have.”

Unfortunately, it’s the truth. Bakugou has become a rather recluse individual, relying on specific people rather than many. Deku earning a quirk and flying to the top of UA’s class was like a kick between the legs, something Bakugou wasn’t sure he could ever recover from. To watch his childhood rival rise on the charts, closing in on the other Pro Heroes until it appeared he would challenge even All Might in ranking, did nothing but tear down Bakugou’s confidence even more.

You noticed that he started to get involved in more reckless, high stake fights. He would call you, barely breathing, and beg you to take him home and put him back together. It helped that you had become a nurse while he was learning how to use his quirk to make money under the table.

And eventually you hit your limit.

“Katsuki, this has gone far enough!” you shouted, tears gathering in your eyes. You sighed, clenching your hands to fists, “It’s time to choose. I won’t be a part of this any longer.”

Bakugou growled, stepping forward even though he could only see you with one eye, the other swollen shut, “I don’t take orders from you!”

Your lower lip quivered and you threw the bloody stitches in the sink, your fingers worse for wear after patching him up so many times, “Eventually it’s just not worth it, Kacchan. Eventually it’s too much.”

“Maybe for a weakling like you,” he spits the words like venom, and you recoil as if they’ve stung, “but I’m strong enough to handle it.”

You nodded, nostrils flaring to keep yourself from giving away too much of your feelings on your face, “Then handle it by yourself.”

The memory alone brings the threat of tears to your eyes, heat gathering at your temples and making your forehead throb. You swallow the lump of emotion multiplying in your throat, begging your feelings to get out of the way so you can do this one thing, and then he can leave.

You’re sighing again, the sight of his swollen face making your whole body hurt, “God, doesn’t this get old?”

You wash his face with antiseptic before using a butterfly bandage to seal the wound on his face. The bruised eye will just have to heal with an ice pack and some pain medication, not much you can do so close to his dainty organs.

“All I know is my fists, you of all people should get that,” he snaps, voice teetering on the edge of patronizing. His hand flattens against your side, fingers curling around your ribs, “It’s been too long and I’m too far gone. It’s too late.”

You’re sliding forward now and he can feel your thighs settle atop his so he grasps you on either side, keeping you anchored to him as you work at his face. He has a few spots near his hairline and jaw that need to be stitched back together and you focus all of your attention on them, pushing away the reality that he’s holding you just the way you like, just the way you want.

You’ve imagined him holding you like this too many times to count. You always wanted to feel his hands on your body, keeping you enraptured in his presence, eyes glued in on your face while you sit in silence. Even if there were no conversation to be had, you would have been happy to find solace in his touch.

“S’never too late, Kacchan.”

The sound of you calling him by the name you used when you were small, when you were always chasing after him, it’s intoxicating. He swears he could get off on your voice alone - the way your lips curl around his name, how his chest tightens when you’re this close. The blood pumping in his veins is so loud he’s sure you can hear it thudding under his skin.

Bakugou tilts his head, looking up at you with his one good eye, hands falling to your thighs, “I’m sorry.”

An audible gasp parts your lips and you immediately blush, hating yourself for your outburst. It is rare for him to speak those words, to let loose the threads of honesty that haunt his mind. His face looks so open, so bare - eyes blown wide and jaw hanging open just slightly so you can see the pink of his tongue.

“Kacchan,” you shake your head, tears resurfacing as raw emotion claws at your chest like an enraged beast. You tie off his suture and drop your hands to his shoulders, thumbs brushing over the dense muscles connecting his neck to his throat, “Don’t.”

“All you ever wanted me to do was to be sorry and now that I’m saying it, you’re telling me ‘don’t’?” Bakugou’s voice rises with every word, his fingertips biting into the fleshy parts of your hips. He grinds his teeth together and his nostrils flare as he attempts to tame the fiery outburst that sits on his tongue, begging to be unleashed in a raging fury.

Your lower lip wobbles and he surprises you by brushing the pad of his thumb over the fullest part of your lip, effectively stealing your breath. He is being kind, gentle even, something you have not seen from him in quite some time. This is the Katsuki you know, this is the Katsuki you cherish.

There has always been something between you and Bakugou, ever since the two of you could figure out that you had emotions, but were competent enough to know how to hide them. He bottles himself up until he’s ready to explode, and you feel too much but your fear reigns you in and keeps you quiet. Neither of you spoke about it, although everyone around you could feel it, could see it.

Maybe that’s why you snapped at him all those months ago, telling him to choose. Maybe you wanted him to choose you so you could surge forward and kiss the breath out of him. But then he pushed you away, sidelined you as if you meant nothing to him; almost as if abusing his body and breaking his spirit was more important than you and the bond you shared.

“I-I’ve been so fucking lonely since you left.” Bakugou runs his fingertips down your jaw until he’s got your neck in his grasp, fingers spread out without issue over your throat. The tips of his fingers tickle the nape of your neck and you want to fall into him, to let him take you alive and never let you go. He could do away with you and you’re sure you’d still say thank you, still beg him to do it again.

Bakugou swallows and his throat bobs, but you snap out of your stupor to shake your head to fire back at him, “I didn’t leave, you chose fighting over our friendship.”

“Quit bullshitting yourself,” he growls, voice grating against his throat. You’ve never heard him so raw and real, so emotional. Bakugou grits his teeth together just long enough for your eyes to track the way his jaw muscles clench, “You wanted a confession out of me that night. You wanted something I couldn’t give you. And now you’re upset about it.”

And yet, the way that his hands hold you gingerly and warmth seeps into his carmine irises makes you think that he doesn’t believe what he’s saying, or rather what he’s denying. You roll your lips together, trying to rid yourself of some of the tension building up in your body. His eyes track the motion and it gives way to even more of his inner honesty to be put on display.

“Kacchan, I-”

Bakugou surges forward and kisses you square on the mouth, a bruising action that is over as soon as it’s started.

He pulls away, breathing heavy as his one healthy eye struggles to stay open at the sensation of your lips. His eyelashes flutter against the tops of his cheeks but you can’t notice because your eyes won’t even open. Your jaw is unhinged, mouth parted while you try to absorb what just happened.

“K-Kacchan,” you whisper, your voice too close to wanton.

His breath stutters over your lips, both hands on your face to hold you in place as he breathes you in. Bakugou’s hands are hot, warm against your cheeks, that familiar sweet scent making your head dizzy. You’ve missed the comforting smell, the reminder that he is close, within an arm’s reach. Other’s describe the scent as burnt sugar, but to you it’s a warm caramel, a familiar haze that makes you feel at home.

The both of you open your eyes at the same time, time moving slow as your irises meet. Your palms drift to his chest, knees shifting just enough so your hips brush his groin. Bakugou grunts, eyes dropping to your lips as his waist rolls upward to meet yours, “Fuck.”

A moment of hesitation passes between the two of you before you clash together in a searing kiss. His lips slot between yours as his hands drift into your hair, holding you close to him while he makes quick work of your mouth. Bakugou, even battered and tired, is skilled at knowing when to tug your lips and when to soothe you with his tongue. It’s as if he can read your mind, making moves you didn’t know you wanted him to make before your mind can catch up with your body.

“Kacchan,” you whine into his mouth as he sucks on your lower lip, digging his teeth into the sensitive flesh. One of his hands drifts to your hips, fingers digging into your backside as best he can from this angle.

He groans, “Love it when you call me that, shi-baby, say it again.”

You echo the name repeatedly, feeling the desperation in him grow with each syllable. He’s probably opened one of his wounds with the way his muscles are tensing but he couldn’t care less. All he’s thinking about is the way you taste, the way you feel. Your mouth is warm and gentle in comparison to his raging power, the desire to overwhelm you like an opponent sits in his belly, a fire being stoked with every motion. The touch of your hands in his hair is grounding to an extent; reminding him that he’s here, with you, and it’s not just a dream.

Eventually you have to part long enough to breathe, but he starts down the path of your throat, open-mouthed kisses leaving a patch of warmth behind. It’s as if he’s unable to let you go now that he’s had a taste of you. You whine, digging your hands into his shoulders while he works at your skin.

“I should’ve picked you,” he murmurs against your collarbone. He sucks a small hickey into the thin skin before nudging his nose over your jugular, “I-I should’ve made the right choice.”

You’re gasping for breath, the sheer force of his kisses from earlier still leaving you wanting. You look down at him, eyes blown wide and lips bruised from use, and you know that he’s telling the truth. There’s something in his irises that he can’t hide - a certain vulnerability you’re sure he’s only shown to you.

“Suki, I-” You swallow the hesitant lump in your throat, every word you’ve had pent up in your lungs for the past few months begging to be freed. Bakugou shakes his head and kisses you again, mouth silencing you before you can let out something too honest. He has to tell you the truth first; he’s been sitting on it for months, percolating with it and allowing it to eat him alive.

“I fucked up, okay? I get that.” Bakugou nuzzles his nose against yours, keeping his eyes closed because otherwise he knows he won’t be able to finish his sentences. “You scared me shitless, and I screwed everything up. I know that now. And I’m sorry.”

You brush your hands through his hair, tugging gently to reassure him. He huffs against your neck, “I wanted to choose you, I swear.”

“I wanted you to pick me,” you exhale, and suddenly you are Atlas and the world is being lifted off of your shoulders when the truth is spoken. Tears collect in the corners of your eyes but you know that it’ll frustrate him if you start crying so you lean back to try and keep them at bay. After taking a short breath, you whisper, “But I’m sorry I ever made you choose. That wasn’t fair.”

He kisses the base of your throat, lips muffled against the skin, “I-I can’t promise you I’ll just quit. This is my life right now. But, I-”

“You can’t change for me,” you tug on the back of his head to get him to face you. “I know that now.”

You’re sure his irises have never been so soft, so pale; amber gazing up at you in awe of your words. His lips are parted and you take advantage of the moment to lean forward and take his mouth captive. You slip your tongue between his lips, mapping out the curves of his teeth and gums. You moan when he suckles on the tip of your tongue, biting down gently on the base, enough to make you squirm.

He peels back to press his forehead to yours, gasping for breath so his chest brushes against your torso. Bakugou notices the glassy look in your eyes, the way your mouth loses speed the longer he kisses you.

“C’mon,” he murmurs into the curvature of your neck, “let’s go to bed.”

You blink slowly, “B-But, Kacchan, I-”

“No buts, loser,” he picks you up and tosses you over his good shoulder. A quirk-laced slap to your backside makes you squeal, “Kacchan!”

Bakugou chuckles, spanking you again, but this time much lighter. He rubs his thumb over your thigh as he walks you to your room, the trek all too familiar, “You’re falling asleep while you’re kissing me, loser. It’s past four in the morning.”

It does not take long for you to fall asleep after he’s wrapped himself around you underneath the covers, ankles crossing beneath the blankets. His hand is in your hair and his ears perk at the sound of your gentle snoring, adoration making his mouth turn upward and his eyes shine. Bakugou buries his mouth in the crown of your hair, kisses dropped over your scalp like flowers planted in a garden.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, squeezing his good eye shut, the other throbbing in a dull rhythm.

Somehow those words are easier to say when you’re asleep.

---

a/n: well, that started off alright and then slowly digressed into... dumpster fire. but hey, what’re you gonna do! i bet you hoes thot you was gettin’ some spice, huh??

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