#it’s all in my head and people are always lying to me right

[4milly]

warm my bed — jey u. (1/3)

warnings; stalking, oc is delusional but so is jey, continuous break ups, smut, creampie, sex while sleeping, forced impregnation, oc is toxic, dark themes on OC's part, oral (m) receiving, cheating, p in v,

parings; zariah x jey uso

in my head, even if you tell me its over...i'll pretend you told me im your all.

jey let out a harsh breath. all he wanted to do was go inside and have a quiet night in—a little r&r. all of that went down the fucking drain soon as he laid eyes on someone his heart once held love for.

zariah.

lord forgive him, but was she bat shit crazy. in the last year, zariah turned jey's life into a living hell. the jealously was too much for him; cursing him out for interacting with female fans, stealing his phone, hacking into his socials, blocking people, getting into it with instagram ho's in his comments, she even got into an encounter with sexy red leading to her being escorted out the arena.

no matter how many times jey told her, it was only her—and it was—she didn't believe him. but breaking into his house? that was the last straw. he knew he looked crazy in the eyes, when you picked up a pair of panties from in-between the couch cushions and called him everything but a child of God.

and whole time they were hers.

he knew it was best to just call it quits than continue the cycle. so 2 nights ago, he packed up your things and as calm as he could, sent you on your way. in a perfect world? you went peacefully. but nah. in this world? you smashed his car windows and keyd your name into the side door.

you loved jey. truthfully! could you get a little crazy sometimes? sure. but in zariah's mind, her actions were justified. after all, jey was hers—her soulmate, her destiny. she'd known it from the moment they locked eyes across that crowded club last year. the electricity that crackled between them, the way the world seemed to fade away until it was just the two of them—that was fate. and fate couldn't be denied.

jey's head fell in his hands at the sight of zariah standing in his kitchen cooking...nothing but her apron covering her, "finally! i've been waiting, c'mere baby."

didn't he take her set of keys?

part of jey wanted to scoop her up, take her inside, and forget this whole bullshit. the way her ass curved perfectly, that small butterfly tattoo on her lower back, and the smell of her juices...he wanted to rip that apron right off her. but the rational part of his brain—the part that remembered the broken windows and the scratched-up car—kept him rooted to the spot.

"z, y'know you ain't supposed to be her. y'know that shit."

but zariah wasn't havin' it. she stepped closer, perfume wrapping around him like a familiar blanket, "how was work, baby?"

was her ears clogged or sum? she know her ass heard him. "z, what are doing here?"

confusion and betrayal flashed across zariah's eyes, "baby, i'm home. where else would i be? i cooked your favorite, daddy...and I can't wait to feed everything to you."

fuck, he loved that shit.

jey felt his resolve waverin'. the way she looked at him, all big eyes and pouty lips, had his mind spinnin'. for a hot second, he almost believed her—almost forgot the chaos of the past year, the constant drama, the jealousy that ate away at their relationship like acid.

zariah slid her arms around his waist pulling him to her. he felt her hardened nipples poking at him through the cottoned fabric, "z, when i packed yo shit, that met we done. im tired of this shit witcho ass."

zariah ain't give up that easy though. she pressed her body against his, soft curves meltin' into his hard muscles, "we both know you're lying. why don't i take this apron off? hm? i'm always so ready for you daddy. i'll let you cum anywhere you want."

jey's breath caught in his throat as she nibbled on his earlobe, sending shivers down his spine. his body was betraying him, responding to her touch like it always did.

"nah, z. we can't keep doin' this," he protested weakly, but his hands found their way to her hips anyway, "we do this every other week."

before he could stop her, she was on her knees, lookin' up at him with those big doe eyes. her freshly painted manicured fingers made quick work of his belt and zipper.

"z, hold up—" jey started, but the words died in his throat as she freed him from his boxers.

zariah licked her lips, eyes locked on his as she stroked him. "mm, i missed this dick, baby."

jey's head fell back as she took him in her mouth, her tongue swirling around him like she was tryna map every inch. the warm wetness of her mouth enveloped him.

z's lips wrapped around him tight, her tongue working magic as she took him deeper. jey couldn't help the low groan that escaped him, his fingers tangling in her hair.

"fuck, baby," he breathed, hips bucking involuntarily

z hummed around him, the vibrations sending sparks through his body. she pulled off with a pop, lookin' up at him with fire in her eyes. "that's right, daddy. this is my dick. it's all mine." her hand kept stroking him as she spoke, her grip firm and sure making sure to pull on the fat mushroomed tip.

before jey could respond, she took him deep again, hollowing her cheeks as she sucked hard. her free hand cupped his balls, rolling them gently as she bobbed her head.

jey's hips started moving on their own, thrusting into the wet heat of her mouth. jey knew he shoulda stopped this, but his body was on autopilot now. she swallowed him down again, taking him to the back of her throat. jey's knees nearly buckled as she worked him over, her head bobbin' up and down while her hand twisted at the base.

her tongue swirled around his tip before she took him back in, moaning around his length. the vibrations had jey seeing stars, "goddamn, girl." he panted feeling his legs shake and his stomach tighten

when his toes began to curl in his shoes, jey powered to find one active brain cell. he began to shake his head, "zariah stop! ah, shit i'm finna—"

she pulled off again, jerking him with her hand as she spoke, "shh. you see how good i make you feel? nobody can make you feel like this. you're all mine."

z's mouth was back on him, suckin' him like her life depended on it. her tongue swirled around the tip before she took him deep again, throat relaxing to take all of him. her free hand snaked around to grab his ass, pulling him deeper.

jey threw his head back on a moan, when she tickled that spot underneath his balls, causing him to erupt into her mouth. his grip on her hair tightened as he kept shooting spurts out. zariah gave him small sucks; ensuring he emptied ever piece of doubt of their relationship into her throat.

the sight of her heavily glossed covered lips suctioned around his dick gave him nothing but guilt. he should've kicked her ass out for this shit. how does someone destroy his car, breaks into his house, and sucks the soul from his dick in less than 72 hours?

zariah smirked up at jey, a string of cum connecting her lips to his softening dick. "that was just the appetizer, baby," she purred, rising to her feet

before jey's post-nut clarity could kick in, zariah was pushing him backwards. he stumbled, legs weak, 'til the back of his knees hit the couch and he fell onto it with her straddling him with a wild look in her eyes.

"i ain't done with you yet, daddy," she giggled, grinding against him. even though he just came, jey felt himself getting hard again.

"z, hold up—" jey started, but she silenced him with a deep kiss, her tongue swirling in his mouth. she tasted like strawberries and his own cum, a combination that had his head spinning

"shh, baby," zariah whispered against his lips. "just let me take care of you."

she reached between them, guiding him to her entrance. jey groaned as she sank down on him, her wet heat comforting him inch by inch. his hands gripped her hips on instinct, fingers digging into her soft flesh.

"fuck, z," he breathed as she started to move, rolling her hips in a slow, torturous rhythm

jey's head was racing and still hazy, caught between the floaty feeling of his orgasm and the nagging voice in the back of his head telling him this was a bad idea. but damn if zariah didn't feel this good, he could've pushed her off.

"you see how good we are together?" zariah whispered, her lips brushing against his ear, "how we're made for each other?"

he could barely speak with her pussy clentching around him like that. zariah picked up the pace, riding jey hard and fast. her hips moved in tight circles, grinding down on him with each stroke. jey's eyes rolled back, overwhelmed by the sensation. his hands roamed her body, gripping her ass and kneading her breast as she bounced on his lap. muscle memory taking over as he cupped her breasts, thumbs brushing over her hardened nipples. zariah threw her head back with a moan, arching into his touch.

"that's right, daddy," she breathed, "touch me. i'm all yours."

she picked up the pace, riding him faster, harder. the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by their heavy breathing and occasional moans. jey felt like he was floating. her walls hugged his dick just right. he moved his hips to meet your owns.

he let out a grunt as he felt that familiar clench in his abdomen again, "shit! you take it so good, z. imma nut again. fuck! slow down, z."

zariah threw her head back, crying out in pleasure as her own release neared. you manage to slip your hand between your bodies to rub at your clit, "fuck, baby! yes, just like that!"

the couch creaked beneath them, barely able to withstand their frenzied movements. his hips kept thrusting up to meet her, chasing that sweet release.

she bounced' on his dick like her life depended on it. the sound of skin slapping' filled the room, mixed with their heavy breathing and low moans.

"tell me you're mine," zariah demanded, her voice breathy but firm. "say it, jey. tell me you belong to me. this pussy belongs to you, and you belong to me."

she was chasing her own release, but she was determined to make him cum first. her walls clenched around him, milking' his dick like she was tryna squeeze every last drop outta him. and she was.

he loved how you squeezed his length as loud mewls escaped your throat. your stomach dropped and your hips shuddered as he went deeper.

"i'm yours, mama. i'm all yours, baby. shit! z, i love yo crazy ass." he gasped out

jey's hips bucked up involuntarily, meeting her thrust for thrust. His hands gripped her ass tight, guiding her movements as he felt his second orgasm approaching fast.

a triumphant smile spread across zariah's face as she clamped down onto him with a whimper, flooding him with her orgasm. she slipped her tongue into his mouth and let out a groan as he released every drop of his cum into her without thinking twice.

they stayed like that for a moment. as the fog of pleasure began to clear, reality came crashing down on jey like a bucket of ice water. he blinked, suddenly all too aware of the situation he'd let himself get into. zariah was still on top of him, her body slick with sweat, kissing down his neck, a satisfied smile on her face, and their cum seeping onto his couch.

"fuck," Jey muttered, gently pushing her off him. "z, this…this can't happen again. i'm forreal."

what the fuck had he just done?

he'd let her in again, let her work her magic on him like always. and now here they were, right back where they started. jey groaned, rubbing a hand over his face.

"baby, what's wrong?" zariah murmured, nuzzling into his neck

jey stood up, fumbling to pull his pants back on. his head was spinning, guilt and regret mixing with the lingering pleasure. "nah, z. this? was a mistake. you gotta go, ma."

zariah's expression darkened. "what do you mean, 'a mistake'? you just told me you loved me. you said you were mine."

"I wasn't thinkin' straight. i ain't a fuckin' prize, z." jey ran a hand over his face. "look, i meant what i said before. we're done. forreal this time. ight? getcho stuff, i'll take you anywhere you wanna go."

zariah's face dropped, her sweet demeanor evaporating in an instant, "we belong together, jey! y'know we do. y'think, i'm gonna let all those little insta ho's have you? so easy? no! you're mine. what? you wanna move one of those bitches in?"

"oh my fucking god, mane! y'see? this that shit i'm calm bout, zariah! this jealousy shit! i ain't fuckin' no other bitches, yet yo ass can't see that shit! i'm tired of yo ass, bruh."

jey turned around to gather her stuff. he met what he said; zariah had to get her shit and go. and she had to leave naked? that's fine, too. when he heard a sniffle behind his back, he exasperated. here come this fake ass cryin'.

"i hate you so bad, jey," she sobbed, "i love you so much it hurts. all i want to know is if you still love me. if you're still inlove with me, josh...but, at least get me towel,"

jey sighed, shoulders slumping as he turned back to face zariah. his words caught in his throat as his eyes landed on her splayed out on the couch, legs spread wide.

their mixed cum was seeping out of her swollen pussy, glistening in the low light. it dripped down onto the expensive leather, creating a messy puddle. she ran a hand down her body, fingertips trailing over her breast, down her stomach, until they reached her slick folds.

"look what you did to me, daddy," she whined out, still sniffling her tears away. she dipped two fingers inside herself, coating them in their combined fluids before bringing them to her lips. her tongue darted out, licking them clean as she maintained eye contact with jey.

zariah knew exactly what buttons to push, how to play him like a finely-tuned instrument—

"i promise, i'll stop being bad." she pouted, sucking her fingers coated with her slick into her mouth

how many times has he heard that shit before?

—she always had.

🏷️: @caramelcleopatraa @harmshake @msbigredmachine @luvrsluxe @uceyliyahh @angiedawn02 @amandairene88 @cyberdejos2 @queeny23 @empressdede @trentybenty @heauxvibez @whatdoeseverybodywant @shes2real @romansthrone @acknowledge-reigns @southerngirl41 @prettyfilmz @jaza23 @usoinked @punksyeet @fearlesschimera @holycollectivekitty @tribalhoochie

to be added for future writings, comment! don’t forget to like and reblog 🩷

this will be 3 (maybe 4) part fic, so warnings will update as we go. this fic will have some dark themes, as i’ve been inspired by @shes2real to embrace a few of them tbh😩🙏.

and in honor of my birthday being on the 15th (this wednesday) here is a treat!

xoxo, cleo.

[stardust-thief]

look after you

an: this my first x reader fic LMAOO, i needed to write smth and this spencer was on my brain :// i am in the middle of a rly long donna fic but i cba this was much easier. also i absolutley have not proof read this sorry

synopsis: you get hurt while hunting down an unsub, after some reluctance (and kind words from papa rossi) you let spencer take care of you, 1.7k words

cw: descriptions of violence, panic attack, spencer swears and can drive (the most un-canon thing abt him) umm italians..., the rest is just fluffy, hurt/comfort, x reader but no y/n

masterlist

The unsub had his gun pointed at you, the cold press of the barrel against flesh. He was ranting and raving about needing to be seen and understood, having spent his childhood in emotional neglect. Teachers and parents failed him at every turn, it’s not his fault that this happened but he can fix it if he just drops the gun. Rossi tried to tell him this over and over, but he only got more angry, pushing the gun in harder and harder. 

If you were to open your eyes, you would’ve seen JJ and Luke there too, guns trained on the unsub. Their eyes glancing between you, the unsub, and the gun. But you didn’t. Not until the bang went off and you could breathe again. 

The flashing lights of the ambulance do nothing to dissuade the pressing headache you feel coming on, the movement of people helps even less. You watch as the EMT’s cart the unsub away on a gurney, sheet covering him. 

“You okay, kid?” Rossi asks from beside you, he had been hovering ever since the ambulance arrived. 

“I’m fine, just need a good night's rest. I’ll be good as new.” You hummed half-heartedly. 

David Rossi always knew when someone was lying to him, part of that talent comes from his job as a profiler, but it’s mostly because of some ancient Italian magic. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that to me. Look, Hotch is on his way with Reid and Emily. They’re gonna be taking some witness statements, but I imagine Boy Wonder will be a little distracted. I want you to let him take care of you, ok? You’ve been through hell tonight kid, let him worry.”

Italians never lie, although you wish they did. Spencer had very obviously caught feelings for you, everyone on the team could see it. Unfortunately, so could you. Spencer Reid was one of the kindest, most genuine people you had ever met, always putting other people's needs before his own. A voice in your head kept telling you that there is nothing you have done to deserve someone like him doting all over you? You had only brought trouble to the people who loved you. Eventually you learned that it was better to just keep everyone at a distance; if you don’t let them in, they can’t get hurt. Which worked well, up until Spencer.

He had such a wormy way of getting into your brain at the worst times; whether it was when you were alone in your kitchen, or at slightly dangerous, very inappropriate times on a case. You couldn’t stop thinking about him and his stupidly cute (and sometimes ill-timed) facts. Some part of you wanted to let him in, in the end the stubborn side always took over. 

Before long, you heard the worried cries of Spencer trying to find you in the chaos. Rossi called his name and gave you a pat on the shoulder, “Remember, you deserve to be looked after too.” and left to find Hotch.

“Oh my god, are you okay? We tried to get here as soon as we could, but they managed to take down the unsub right? What happened, did he hurt you? How did you get so close? Talk to me are-” Oh, how he rambles. 

“Spencer, I’m fine. I just need to… rest, you know. He didn’t hurt me that bad, just a sprained wrist, couple bruises. Could’ve been worse.”

He spluttered, “Could’ve- you know, that doesn’t make this any better, I was so worried about you. He had a fucking gun to your head, I was going insane thinking about what could’ve happened. What did the EMT say about your wrist?”

“Just to rest it, and use an ice pack if it starts to swell or hurt.” You couldn’t look him in the eye, he was so worried about you. It made butterflies dance in your belly, but there was a twinge of guilt there too. He was so busy, he worked so hard and then went home to look after his mom. He had too much on his plate, how could you add more to it? “Spence, I’m really sorry about worrying you. I should be fine to leave now, so I’ll just head home and sleep it off. Have a good night.” You pushed yourself off the ambulance, eyes focused downwards, restless fingers fidgeting with the already frayed bandage.

“No- wait what are you talking about? You’re gonna drive yourself home in this condition? I can’t let you do that, even thinking about it makes me feel sick.” He lowered his head to yours and spoke softer this time, “Please let me take you home. I don’t have to stay, I just want to make sure you’re ok, ok?”

Fuck that voice did things to you. Leaning from side to side, you thought about what Rossi had said earlier. Maybe, it was ok to let someone in? It would be cruel to let him suffer more, not knowing if you were ok or somehow got in a car crash with 5 other vehicles on your way home. Just this once, you think.

Looking up into his soft eyes, you give a small nod. His lips immediately turned up into a smile, his hand comes up to cup your head, fingers stroking your cheek. It felt… nice. His thumb was calloused but he still moisturised enough for it to feel smooth, and he smelled like lemongrass and ginger. His hand fell to the small of your back as he guided you to his car. Ever the gentlemen, he opened your door and softly placed his hand over your head as you got in. Manoeuvring himself into the driver's side, he pulled out his phone and typed something, then quickly stuffed it away into a pocket and turned on the engine.

The sky was dark when you woke up. The unsub had a gun to your head at dusk, and Spencer was walking into your apartment when the moon was out. He took off his shoes and the door, and walked into your living room.

“I’ve never been here before,” he mused. “I like it.”

He looked at ease wandering around your apartment, his shoulders had relaxed and he let out soft musings as he perused your photo collections.

“Oh Spencer, not that one, it’s embarrassing!” You tried (with not a lot of effort) to pull him away from the frame.

“No this is cute, was this when you were at University?” He asked, wrapping an arm around you.

Oh my god. “Yeah, um- those were some of my friends at the time. I try and keep in touch but, you know.”

He hummed, pulling you closer into him. Finally content, he looked down at you. “How’s your wrist?”

“It’s ok,” you shrugged, “just a little tender now.”

“Where’s your kitchen, I can get some ice.”

“Spence-” you wanted to tell him no, to go home and look after himself. But his body was so warm, having him so close to you melted your brain, leaving you unable to think of any good reason as to why he should leave. “It’s the first door on the right.”

His grip tightened for a moment before he swiftly navigated you to the sofa, and turned to leave for the kitchen. The cold of the apartment rushed to get you as soon as he unraveled his arms. You hadn’t been alone all day since the unsubs attack, it somehow felt more claustrophobic. His hand on your throat, squeezing the air from your lungs. The way he grabbed your arm, contorting it so he could throw you to the ground. The gun, pressed into your forehead. The knowledge that the only thing between you being alive, and you being in a ditch, was a madman's finger on the trigger. Reality faded as each memory pressed further and further into your mind. You weren’t in your apartment anymore, you could feel the cold concrete beneath your hands. The thick air in your lungs, Rossi and the unsub shouting.

A hand on your knee, a soft voice bringing you back. There was no unsub, no gun to your head. You were alive. You were alive and Spencer was in your apartment, wiping the tears that had fallen down your face.

“You with me?” His voice was so soft, you couldn’t recall ever hearing Spencer raise his voice in anger. He was so gentle when he touched you. 

The floodgates burst, choked sobs made their way past your lips. Your shoulder shook as you cried, pressing yourself into Spencer’s arms. “Oh honey,” He murmured, pressing his lips into your head, softly rocking you back and forth as you sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. It was too much. You could have died today. Very nearly did. You weren’t ready to die, not yet at least.

As your cries softened into hiccups, you pushed yourself back from Spencer. “I’m sorry, that was so disgusting. It just all- I don’t know.”

 “Hey, you don’t ever have to apologise to me ok? What you went through was really scary, I’d honestly be more shocked if you didn’t cry.” His hand moved to draw soothing shapes along your back as you leaned back into him. “You want to watch something to calm down? I brought you some water and an ice pack for your wrist.”

He would be the death of you. You nod and push yourself back into the sofa, moving your wrist to rest in your lap. Spencer gently places the ice pack across your wrist and grips the tips of your fingers. He leans forward to push your cup of water towards you and grabs the TV remote, then turns and leans back so your side is pressed into his front. Truthfully, Spencer didn’t seem like the type to watch cable TV but he navigated the menu with somewhat ease. 

“Look at what’s on! It’s your favourite isn’t it, you want me to put it on.” He said as he nudged your shoulder.

He remembered your favourite film, of course he would remember it he has an eidetic memory. You hummed a yes as you relaxed your body further into his, finally content. Maybe Rossi was right, having Spencer close really wasn’t so bad after all.

[wlwsoccerfics]

A Long Road ahead (Alessia RussoXWilliamsonReader)

Warnings: ACl injury, mental health struggles, complications during surgery

You are in the middle of recovering from ACL injury. The surgrey went smoothly which was why you thought the healing and getting back on the pitch would be as well. Turned out that wasn't the case. You got injured 4 months ago and the pain was still quite bad. You still worked your ass off to get back on your feet. Frustrated with how stiff your knee was still.

Currently you sat on the floor in the living room of the home you shared with your fiancee, tears running down your face, all you wanted was to pick up the book you dropped but you ended up falling on your bad knee. Your whole Body was shaking from the sobs escaping your lips. You were in pain and so frustrated with yourself and your body. The Cane you used to get around with lying on the floor next to you. You knew this was bad because your knee was already turning different shades of blue.

A few minutes later the front door opened and you could hear Alessia talking to some people. One of those people being your best friend Beth & the other one being your fiancee obviously. But they were followed by two other voices. Your Sisters & Lias voice. As soon as they heard your sobs they ran into the living room. "Babe!" Alessia said in Panic and kneeled down in front of you. "I tumbled and fell. All i wanted was to pick up my book!" You told her. Quickly wiping away your tears. "Little Williamson we need to get you to the hospital cause your knee doesn't look good at all!" Lia, your sister in law answered. "This sucks! I am never gonna be back on the pitch. My Football career is over!" You were close to having a panic attack so Leah sat down on the other side of you. Rubbing your back. "Hey y/n look at me! It will be okay! You are a tough Cookie and you can get through this! But you have to calm down!" Leah answered. "Match my breathing!" Alessia encoruaged you and grabbed your Hand. Placing it on her chest. Beth had an idea to calm you down. She put on your favorite Taylor Swift Song and somehow that worked so Alessia and Leah helped you up. Holding you steady and you made your way to Beths Car cause she was gonna be the one driving.

You ended up quietly crying for the entire car ride. Head on Alessias shoulder, while looking outside the window.

At the hospital everyone was in the waiting room. Everyone but Alessia who was with you almost the entire time and only left your side when you got an CT scan of your knee. She held your hand when the doctor told you that your ACL did tear again. & Your knee cap was fractured. Surgrey was needed and you would have to start your healing Journey from scratch. Which made you emotional and you just cried into Alessias arms.

When you fell asleep your fiancee went to your sister and friends to tell them what happened and that your surgrey was gonna be the next day. Everyone was shocked. "I can't believe it. That poor girl has been through so much! And things just keep adding up." Lia replied. Feeling bad for her sister in law. "We have to be there for her and Support her even more now! She needs us!" Beth stated. "It's like she can't catch a break, but she will get through it! She is a Williamson. And we always pull through." Leah said and it did sound like she not only wanted to try to comfort the others but also herself.

Everyone went home so you could rest. Discussing how to cheer you up after your surgery. While Alessia stayed with you. Holding your hand all night. Sitting in an uncomfortable chair. Your night was rough cause of the pain. Even with the pain meds. It was around 7am when you got prepared for surgery and they took you away from Alessia.

Right after that happened Alessia was waiting for Beth cause your best friend brought over some stuff for you and for Alessia so she could get changed into some fresh clothes after she took a shower in your room. The two waited together for any news on you. Leah, Lia & Viv were getting some things ready for you at home.

It took around 5 hours of surgery to fix both the fractured knee cap & ACL. There also were some complications. Which the doctor told your fiancee and best friend. "She lost alot of blood & slipped into shock but we managed to bring her back. She needs to stay for a few days. If the next two days go well she can go home." He explained. Both Beth and Alessia went pale when he explained to them what had happened.

You were slowly waking up from surgery around 40 minutes later, Alessia holding your hand while Beth & Leah were standing in a corner. "Lessi?" You mumbled out, trying to open your eyes. "Hey Baby. I am here! It's all going to be okay!" She told you. But you could see that she had been on the edge of breaking down."you look quite stressed. What's wrong?" You asked, fully opening your eyes now. They did start hurting a bit cause of the Lights but You shake it off. Alessia was biting down on her bottom lip not sure how to start so Leah stepped in. "You have to stay for a few days, there were some complications." Your sister answered. "You lost alot of blood and slipped away for a moment. They want to check on you for a bit to keep an eye on you, just making sure nothing happens and when things go well you can go home." Beth let you know. You took in the information, trying to make sense of this. The universe could be really unfair. The fact that not only would you have to start your ACL Recovery Journey from the beginning after falling on it, no of course they also had to be complications. "Oh." Was all you said after a while. Trying to smile through the emotional pain but ended up losing some tears over this. Which resulted in a group hug with your fiancee, your sister and your best friend. Of course they were very careful not to hurt you.

Thankfully the next few days went well and the doctor was quite positive about how things were going so you were allowed to go home. At Home you were greeted by a banner that said :'Welcome Home,y/n!' , your Friends also got you some new books, wrote some notes and let the Team write some that said a few Things to make you feel better when you felt down, such a sweet thing to do. the Road to Recovery would be long and hard but at least you knew you didn't have to go through it alone.

[nelle-y]

pt2 to the diluc voice line story PLEASE!! I LOVED IT SOOO MUCH

A love story told through voicelines (II)

C/W: slow-burn, Diluc x gn!reader, reader works at the flower shop in Mondstadt, a few Wicked and Epic: the musical references (let’s see if you can catch them <; ), fluff, angst slight comfort

Note: I’m so glad a lot of you guys liked part 1! Let’s hope I don’t disappoint with this one, ‘cuz I got 2 more parts planned for this.

(You) About Diluc: New impressions

I think I’m starting to understand him better now. Beneath that stoic exterior, he’s just someone doing his best to protect the world he cares about. It’s kind of sad, though… how so many people overlook that. He deserves more credit than he gives himself. I wonder how he manages to carry all that weight on his shoulders alone.

(Diluc) About you: New impressions

I’d be lying if I said they didn’t bring a little light to my days. Ahem—they’re a dependable friend, of course. Their boldness and genuity are rare qualities, and somehow, they always seem to find the right words. It’s reassuring to have someone like that around. I wonder if I should make their favorite drink in case they come by today…

(You) About Diluc: A growing bond

He can be funny at times, but I don’t think he knows it. Like, he once told me he doesn’t like wine, so I pointed out that he owns a winery, and he just looked at me, dead serious, and said, “Is the hunter expected to eat raw meat?” Hahaha! The way he said it was so deadpan, I couldn’t stop laughing!

The more time I spend with him, the more I notice the little things—the way he always makes an effort to listen, even though he doesn’t know what to say; or how, when he opens up, his perspective is always so mature, so layered. I noticed that every time I come to the tavern now, my favorite drink is always prepared beforehand, even when Charles is behind the bar. He may not say it out loud, but I can tell he cares.

(Diluc) About you: A growing bond

Beneath their lightheartedness, there’s a quiet strength, a sincerity that’s rare to come across. I never expected to find myself looking forward to our conversations. It’s almost as if I’ve started depending on those moments. I’ve been manning the bar more frequently, secretly hoping they’d stop by—even for a short while. How did this happen?

(You) About Diluc: What is this feeling?

I don’t know what’s wrong with me! I’ve been thinking about him wayyyy too often—more than I should. It’s like my day revolves around him now. I wake up wondering if he’ll pass by the flower shop again. When I’m at work, I catch myself picking out flowers I think he’d like, just in case I see him. And don’t even get me started on lunch breaks—I’ve been stopping by the tavern more than I’d like to admit.

And the worst part? I’m starting to wonder if I’m imagining things. He’s so… reserved. It’s hard to tell if he even enjoys spending time with me or if he’s just being polite. What if I’m reading too much into it? What if this is all one-sided, and I’m just setting myself up for disappointment?

It’s frustrating—why can’t I just stop thinking about him?! He’s so serious, so closed-off, but every once in a while, I see these small moments where he softens, where he lets his guard down just a little… and I can’t help but be drawn in. Ugh, what am I doing? Falling for him? No, that’s ridiculous. We’re just… friends.

I don’t even understand why he’s so guarded in the first place. I mean, it’s not like he has anything to hide… right?

(Diluc) About you: What is this feeling?

I can’t focus on my work lately. I keep hearing their voice in the back of my mind, or catching myself wondering if they’ll stop by the tavern for lunch. When I think about them, my head starts reeling, and my pulse rushes. It’s strange. I’ve been this way for days now. Adelinde has noticed, and it’s been difficult to hide. I thought it would go away—this feeling of unease when they’re not around. But it’s not fading. The more I think about them, the more it becomes impossible to ignore.

It’s starting to affect me. I’ve always prided myself on keeping control, but now, I’m beginning to feel like I’m losing it. This attraction… it’s dangerous. What if I can’t protect them the way I want to? What if my responsibilities get in the way? Maybe I should keep a distance now. I don’t know how to reconcile what I feel with my duty as the Darknight Hero—ah, another reason to stay wary. But the thought of pushing them away… I don’t want to.

(You) About Diluc: Worries

Is it just me or does that man have too much on his plate? For the past few days, I noticed how distracted he was during our conversations. It’s like there’s always something on his mind, something that adds to the weight on his shoulders. He’s speaking a lot less now, as well, much like when we first met… always keeping his answers short. His eyes look tired, his frame is getting lighter… and if you look closer, you’ll see his rare smile is torn. I’ve tried asking if he’s okay, but he brushes it off with that calm, distant demeanor of his, then suddenly dismissing himself because ‘something came up.’ No, I don’t have time to think about how I feel, right now. Something’s up.

I guess I worry about him a lot. What if things aren’t going well at the winery? What if he doesn’t come back to wherever he’s running off to? What could he be keeping inside that makes him act like this? Hm, it could be just all in my head, but… whatever it is, I hope he knows he doesn’t have to face it alone. Even if he thinks he does.

(Diluc) About you: Worries

Why? Has something happened to them?—Ah… apologies. I’ve been on edge these past few days. It’s difficult to explain, but I can’t seem to shake this instinct to protect them. I’ve been watching the crowds more carefully, scanning for any sign of danger, and keeping an ear out for anything that might threaten their safety.

I fear they’ve noticed how distracted I’ve been during our conversations. I tried to keep my distance, to ensure they’re not caught up in anything dangerous because of me, but it’s… not easy. The more I try to step back, the more I find myself thinking about them. Have they noticed the change in my demeanor? Do they suspect the reason behind it?

I only hope they understand that my distance isn’t because of them… but because of the risks that follow me. If anything were to happen to them because of me… I don’t think I could forgive myself. Yet, even knowing this, I still feel drawn to them. It’s a dangerous contradiction.

(You) About Diluc: Distance

I’m starting to realize that Diluc might be more closed off than I thought. Every time I try to reach him, it feels like I hit a wall. Why does he keep pushing me away? Doesn’t he see that I just want to help?

Every time he dismisses me with that calm mask of his, I can’t help but feel like I’m losing him. Maybe I should give him space, maybe he needs it, but I just don’t want him to shut me out forever. I don’t know how much longer I can watch him bear the weight of his responsibilities alone.

If words won’t reach him, then maybe I’ll try something else… something to remind him he doesn’t have to do this by himself.

(Diluc) About you: Distance

There’s a part of me that wants to tell them everything—about my past, my duties, the dangers that follow me. But I can’t. Not yet. If they knew, would they still look at me the same? Would they still want to be near me? I’ve been keeping my distance for their sake, but the more I avoid them, the more I feel the ache of their absence. *sigh* I don’t deserve to rely on them this way.

(You) About Diluc: Flowers

Since asking him directly isn’t getting me anywhere, I decided to try a different approach to maybe let him open up. I heard Small Lamp Grass flowers were his favorite, so I decided to get some and leave them in the tavern for him. I even left a note, hehe. Considering what’s going on between us, though… do you think he would appreciate it?

(Diluc) About you: Flowers

“For when nights are long, and the weight feels heavy—may these remind you that you’re not alone.” That was their note, marked with a little heart at the end. I thought it was a mistake, at first—that the flowers were for someone else. But as I recognized their handwriting… something in me softened.

Honestly, it’s silly. Such a simple gesture, yet I find myself reading their note over and over again. I placed them in my office. Their glow brings a warmth in the room, and whenever I look at them, I’m reminded of their smile. Hah… Everyday, it gets harder to draw myself away from them. Maybe I can allow myself this one sliver of respite. Just this once.

—

[dedfly]

Hii! I was wondering if I could request headcanons for Shadow milk cookie x reader? Just about how he would act when he realizes he loves you and how his actions and stuff changes when he starts to have a crush on you? <3

I can't believe i writing again. Requests are still closed(only writing related ones i still prefer drawing stuff.), I just couldn't help myself with this one. New trailer made me all nostalgic

Disclaimer:

This is about Shadow Milk, if we talking real people here rember if someone loves you they would not play mind games. They are not cookies of deciet, it's not their quirky trait. Your partner or friend should be clear with you from the start

Remember there always would be people who loves you. And you always deserve better

Cw: Mentiones of gaslighting

___________________________________

Shadow Milk cookie x reader

♪ Can't say it would be long realisation. Maybe few days not the love from first sight but not the slow burn you know?

♪ But it surely would be "Oh yeah... This one" with creepy ass smile

♪ Alright, let's go and look past his thick hair right into his messed up head.

♪ We still would see the same pragmatic cookie just this time all his schemes about making...no, actually

♪ He would not try and get out of his way to make you fall in love with him.

♪ Why would he? It's inevitable.

♪ All his "little" courtship focused on one simple thing - leaving an impression

♪ You will rember him and what's is most important

♪ All your little partners didn't bring you as much effort as he did

♪ And by efforts I mean focusing all his attention on you

♪ Making you speak more than he usually let anyone

♪ Doing his sweet voice while he speaking to you

♪ Gifting you flowers some flashy gifts with ribbons, but nothing too resembling of him...yet

♪ But I don't think he would change drastically it's still him. He would be lying and deciving feeding you with half truths just like everyone

♪ It's in his nature, really

♪ His flirting is fleeting with you. Blink and you miss it

♪You can say but he's a total flirt with Wind Archer and Pure Vanilla why not me?

♪ Well it's me who writing this okay? I think he just being annoying to them on purpose. It's not actual flirt he would use in a serious courtship

♪ Just kidding, he would act differently just to look how far your boundaries stretches

♪ I mean he's also a performer which is making it way worse

♪ He so dramatic and his courtship, he's too reminiscent of a bird

♪ You will notice his act in no time. His attitude to you would be special that's for sure

♪ You might think uh aren't you just contradict yourself? No why would I? :)

♪ His actions still making you doubt his intentions

♪ WORSE of all he would not be reassuring in a traditional way so it not helping. He's still vague about his true intentions

♪ Not in a tsundere way more like a "Me? Flirting with you? Hm... How odd. You sure my gesture of gratitude isn't messing with your head?" "What? Do YOU want it to be something more?" And more of the "Are you sure? I don't recall that"

♪ Oh yeah and it's all in a lovey dovey period... Don't think he would be the one confessing first.

♪ His attitude would draw you insane that's for sure

"Ah? Asking me out on a date??? Hm... Tsk tsk tsk. Took you long enough."

♪ His mask would quickly fall off as soon as you get in a relationship tho.

♪ You will choke on his love in the best way possible

___________

Okay I'm not surprised thr only cookie who made me want to sit down and write this there Shadow Milk

[xtarmanderx]

Double amnesia! Is Abby going be addressed at all again? Or make an appearance? Or maybe a phone call from one of them?

I honestly hadn’t even considered it until you asked this question!! And I’m so glad you did because you gave me an idea to write the section where I’d just started to get stuck. So thank you!

-

Losing memories is without a doubt the worst part of amnesia, but no one else considers how hard it is to learn how to use technology that’s completely foreign to you. Tommy must have been good at this once, but now he’s fumbling through his phone trying to understand how it works. Facial recognition has been a blessing, he’s not sure he’d ever be able to crack a password in his current state, and at least some of the icons are familiar to him. It still takes a couple of minutes to find Abby’s name and then a couple minutes more to build up the courage to call.

It rings twice and then, “Hello?”

“Abby?” Wetness rapidly fills his eyes and his breath stutters out of him.

“Give me just a second.” She tells him. He hears her quietly tell someone she’s moving to the living room, the shuffle and slide of sheets on skin, and then she sighs against his ear. “I was wondering if you were going to call me. Can’t sleep either?” She guesses.

“How did you know?” He rolls onto his back, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Buck had the same problem. We were texting earlier.”

“You hate texting.” He murmurs.

“I do. I’ve gotten better about it over the years though. So have you.”

“Guess they really can teach old dogs new tricks.” He says, earning a soft laugh from her. His heart clenches in his chest. “I miss you.”

“No you don’t.” There’s no malice in her voice, but he still feels like he’s been struck. “You think you do, but you don’t. Just like Buck doesn’t really miss me either.”

“He’s too genuine to lie about that.” Tommy corrects immediately.

“Yeah, he’s a good one. Good for you,” she tells him. “Why did you really call me, Tommy?”

“Because I don’t know anyone else.” He snaps out. She doesn’t rise to the bait and he exhales slowly. “Sorry. I just…this is too much for me.”

“Tommy-“

“In my head, I just bought a ring for you. I’m committing the rest of my life to you and you’re not here.”

“But you never really loved me, sweetheart. Not the way a man should love a woman if he wants to be with her. You never did.” Her tone is still soft and tears run down his cheeks. “You’re lying to yourself right now and you were back then, too. You told me that you stayed with me because it’s what your father expected of you. You let that man rule your life for so long. Him, your old fire captain, your drill sergeants, you let everyone else dictate how your life was supposed to go. You need to stop listening to those voices, Tommy. They never did you any good.”

Tommy doesn’t say anything for a while. There’s a storm brewing in his chest and he rubs the heel of his palm against it, wishing he could chase it away. Because deep down, he’s always known who he was. He still can’t think the word, terrified of what it means for him, but his future self had obviously accepted it at some point with open arms. And it pisses him off. He thought people only had to fight that kind of battle once, but now he has to do it a second time and how the hell is he supposed to win when he can’t remember doing so the first time? It feels like the odds are stacked against him.

“He scares me,” he admits.

[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

Little witch||lance stroll x fem!reader

Word count 895

A/n — this was one of my first requests on my old blog I doubt the OG requester is around anymore but it holds a special place in my heart.

If you were to ask Lance Stroll what he thought of his girlfriend, he’d say the usual things any man deeply in love would say. He’d describe how kind, funny, and beautiful you were. How you made every bad day better with just a smile or a hug. But if you pressed him, he might admit there was something different about you, something almost otherworldly.

Take, for instance, how you always seemed to know things before they happened. You’d casually predict the weather—right down to the minute the rain would start—or tell him, “Be careful today,” with that knowing look in your eyes, moments before he’d trip on a curb or bang his elbow in the garage. One time, you’d even warned him, “Watch out for your wrist, we wouldn’t want anything to happen to that, would we?” Two weeks later, during a bike ride, he’d broken it.

He didn’t think much of it at first. Maybe you were just really observant. But when he mentioned it to Mick Schumacher, Mick had raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Maybe she’s a witch, Lance. Who knows?”

Lance had laughed it off at the time, brushing aside the comment. There was no way you could be a witch… right?

Still, certain things kept nagging at the back of his mind. Like how your black cat, Midnight, never left your side, trailing you from room to room like a shadow. Or how, every full moon, you’d gather up your crystals, arrange them meticulously on the windowsill, and let them soak in the moonlight. Then there was the jar of water you’d set out alongside them.

“What’s all this for, again?” Lance had asked one night, leaning against the counter as he watched you work.

“It’s for cleansing and protection,” you’d explained, holding up a chunk of amethyst with a proud smile. “You charge the crystals under the moonlight, and the water absorbs the moon’s energy. It’s called moon water—it’s useful for rituals or just for good vibes.”

He’d nodded, pretending to understand, though half of it went over his head. You were so passionate about it, and he loved the way your face lit up when you talked about these things. At the time, he chalked it up to a quirky hobby. But there was always a voice in the back of his mind whispering that there was something more to it.

That voice got louder when he discovered you could read and speak archaic Latin.

“When did you even learn Latin?” he’d asked, staring at you in disbelief after you effortlessly translated an inscription on a random plaque during a museum visit.

You’d shrugged. “I learned it when I was younger. It’s fascinating, really.”

Things started clicking into place a few weeks later when you visited your parents’ house. Over tea, your mom mentioned your family’s Celtic roots—Scottish on her side, Irish on your dad’s—and casually brought up how the women in your family were known for their “gifts.”

“Special abilities,” your mom had said with a wink.

That night, while lying in bed, Lance couldn’t shake the feeling that Mick’s joke hadn’t been a joke after all. Could you actually be a witch?

A week later, the question finally burst out of him during a cozy night in. You were both snuggled up on the couch, a bowl of popcorn between you, half-watching a rom-com you’d seen a dozen times before.

“Are you a witch?” Lance asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

You sat up, startled, and turned to face him. “What?”

“I mean, I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” he admitted, looking at you intently. “You do things that… normal people can’t. You know things before they happen. Midnight follows you like he’s your furry little bodyguard. And you have all those crystals and jars of moon water. So… are you a witch? You can tell me, you know.”

For a moment, you stared at him, your lips twitching as if trying to hold back a smile. Then you laughed. “Wow. Took you long enough to figure it out.”

“What?” Lance sat up straighter, frowning. “Wait, you mean… you are a witch?”

“Yeah,” you said casually, leaning back against the cushions.

“Seriously?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Hang on, how long have I been dating a witch and didn’t know?”

You glanced over your shoulder with a teasing smile. “Lance, I once dropped my spell book, and you picked it up. You even handed it back to me, saying, ‘Cool book,’ before walking off.”

He blinked. “Oh.” You burst out laughing at his stunned expression.

“Well, now I feel stupid,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, patting his leg reassuringly.

“Wait,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “Do you have a wand?”

“Yeah, I have a wand,” you replied offhandedly.

“Wait, really? Like, a real magic wand?”

“No, Lance,” you said, laughing again. “I was being sarcastic.”

“Oh. Right.” He paused, still processing everything. “So… are you going to hex me if I annoy you?”

You gave him a sly smile. “Guess you’ll have to behave and find out.” For the rest of the evening, Lance couldn’t stop staring at you, equal parts amazed and amused. Dating a witch wasn’t something he’d ever expected—but then again, you’d always been full of surprises. And, truthfully, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[noirsdoll]

-> blurred lines

pairing: james sunderland / bimbo!reader

words: 2.1k

tags: rape, roofieing, thigh fucking, minor panty kink, james is rlly desperate, this is also straight porn like my last james fic, minor suicidal ideation, crazy unexpected surprise at the end!!

notes: i wrote this from 4-5am on a random saturday LMAO this is so self indulgent just some sloppy sex cuz james is horny and out of practice and i want him

read it on ao3

James wants to drown.

As he watches that white tablet sink, down and down through the layers of juice and booze and liqueur, he thinks about how peaceful it must be.

Adrift, lungs filled with water, so close with the ocean that it’s reached inside of him. There is tranquility with death, but James finds himself undeserving of it. He longs for the silence of it all more than the finality.

And then the sounds around him flood back in. The violent boom of the bass, the buzzing light of the lasers. The dimness of the club cannot hide how fucking overstimulating everything is. How is this the place where everyone decides to go?

You chose it, a pretty young thing that is more of an arm piece than a person, who is so lost in whatever banal thing is coming out of James’s mouth that you don’t notice the pill that is fizzing out at the bottom of your drink. James not-so-discreetly glances down at it, white vapours trailing through the murky liquid of whatever fruity thing you ordered.

His palms are sweaty and sticky, he wiped them down his pant legs. It’s so hot in here, his jacket was the wrong choice for tonight it seems. His heart is hammering like crazy, he feels so suffocated here.

You haven’t noticed— or you’re pretending not to notice, James isn’t good at reading people. If he was, he wouldn’t need to be in a dark club where the only thing he can see is the outline of your legs and the sparkle of your eyes.

Fuck, he is really sweating. Will you notice? Will you scream, shout? Point at him and crucify him? This is a horrible idea, an impulse, based on the fear that you might say no and James really cannot handle anymore of those right now.

Maybe he didn’t need to, of course, he didn’t need to, but it was easy and James loves easy. He talks to you, but not too much, he nods when you speak, repeats what you say right back to you to show that he’s listening and you should trust him and to definitely ignore the fact that he just roofied you.

That’s a strong word, James isn’t big on grand gestures, but it was a dumb idea, he’ll admit that— in his head, not to you, not when you bring the glass to your lips and take a sip. Your face wrinkles and you glance at your drink in confusion. James’s stomach drops to his feet.

“It tastes funny all of a sudden. That’s weird.” You smack your lips a couple times for good measure, really coating your mouth in it. James swallows the comical lump in his throat. He didn't use the normal stuff. He used a sleeping pill he had lying around in his jacket pocket. Definitely not colourless or flavourless like the real thing.

“It might have been sitting a while,” he says, like that’s how alcohol works. Usually it tastes better when it’s been laying around, not vice versa.

But you’re dumb and hot, so you just nod and down the rest of it. James is in awe of how he got so lucky. The undissolved residue of the white pill almost glows in the darkness, like a neon sign pointing to James’s offense.

You don’t notice because your fingers are brushing his on the club table, manicured nails tracing the veins on his hands. You give him ‘fuck me’ eyes that he is so sure you have leveled at so many other men. He is just a face in a crowd, a grain of sand in a desert, he is nothing to you.

That’s what he wants.

James can make this work. When you start to droop and slur is when James decides to lug you out of the club. Your body is up against his as you lean on him for stability, flush skin against his cold body. He always runs cold, especially in the night air.

The back seat of his car is stuffy and stained and smells suspiciously of rot. But you don’t notice because you are too busy being half asleep, murmuring intelligible things under your breath.

James gets to work, wondering if he would’ve preferred you saying no to you saying nothing at all. Your heels land on the floor of the car and your panties are tossed onto the front seat for safe keeping.

His hands dwell on the softness of your thighs and your knees and your calves, every womanly curve and bend and your warmth. James’s dick nudges your thigh and he has the realization that he’s able to do whatever he wishes since you are too out of it to frown and complain about ‘being too tired’.

You’re pretty like a sex doll, thighs wider than your waist as he slots his dick between the plush pillows of flesh. He’s dripping pre in syrupy strings, running along the underside of his cock and drooling just like him.

Your thighs are so smooth, but James doubts they’ll compare to your pussy. He holds them tightly together as he fucks them, thighs squeezing the head of his cock as it peeks out through the expanse of fat.

He moans softly into the quiet, humping you more than he’s fucking you, lips sloped over the curve of your ankles. There is so much of you to sink his teeth into, he can’t take it. It’s like he’s fucking a dead body rather than an actual person.

He hikes up the glittery fabric of your dress till it rests right under your tits, baring your stomach. He glances down and stares at the dripping seam of your shaved pussy. Fuck, you are so pretty. James can really see all of you now that you’re in proper lighting.

It feels so good, James whimpers and whines and moans, able to let out any sound he desires while you lay conked out on the car seat. He finally gets to fuck something other than his fist. Not many people are eager to get in bed with him, a big wet dog of a man.

James is gonna cum, he can feel it, and even through his haze he knows this would be a waste if he didn’t at least fuck you once properly. He’ll be careful enough not to blow his load inside though. He’s not good with responsibility.

With reluctance he slips his dick away, your inner thighs are all shiny with him. Keeping your thighs together, the pretty squish of fat, his mouth slinks down, his nose pressed against your clit as he sinks his tongue into you. Your thighs press against his face and almost suffocate him as he eats you out, James has to fight the urge to jerk his cock as he does this. It’s so good.

You start to rouse, your hips squirming, grinding messily against his face. It gets hard to breathe, James doesn’t mind. This is practice for when he eventually drives his car into the ocean, a couple hours after this, he bets.

One big hand holds your stomach down against the car seat, giving him a better position to tongue fuck you. He laps up your slick like a good dog, he loves the taste. He’s missed having a cunt to eat every night.

“James?” You mutter sleepily. It isn’t hard to connect those dots, so he doesn’t congratulate you. When you were looking at him like you wanted to fuck him, he was doing the same back. His mouth is too occupied to want to speak anyways.

Your nails scrape against the seat, he feels your pussy squeeze around his tongue. Drooling all over yourself, only adding to the stains. “James,” you whine, pressing your cunt eagerly against his face. “Did I… fall asleep?”

“Yeah,” he says, pulling his mouth away, licking slick off his lips. “I took care of you though.”

You blink up at him, still clearly out of it. “Oh… okay.” Your hips shift toward him, a silent plea to keep going. You don’t seem to even care that he’s undressed you and put his mouth on you when you’re half asleep. He’s lucky that you’re so dumb. You probably wouldn’t even care if he slipped his dick in.

James gets between your legs again, kissing your clit with two fingers inside you. He lets your thighs part to rest on either of his shoulders, able to see your face drunk on ecstasy. You look down at him and he feels important, like he has something to offer.

You moan his name real pretty too, back curling like a cat as he lets you wind fingers in his hair, nails dragging along his scalp and making him moan.

And then you cum and getting his dick inside you becomes a life or death situation. He runs his cock along your wet slit and you whine, loud. James uses his thumb to guide the head in, he salivates as it dips through that first ring of muscle, disappearing into the fat folds of your pussy. And then you take more and more, every inch of a cock that is much bigger than James deserved.

You’ve already been fucked open countless times, James knows that, he was betting on that, but seeing it in action still sours his mood a little. This is for the best though, no whiny virgin begging him to take it slow. You’ll take your pounding like a good girl.

He fucks you hard and well, your moans shake as his skin smacks against your thighs. You’re so warm and wet, better than a fist or a pillow or a lump of silicone. Nothing beats the real thing, there is so much of you to grab a hold of.

James tugs the spaghetti straps of your dress down to bare your tits, they droop a little once freed from your bra, barely getting the chance before James’s hand swallows them up, fat spilling past his fingers. He doesn’t twist your nipples and hurt you, he just wants to feel you, feel the warmth of a body before the cold release of death.

He lets out an embarrassed whine when you squeeze around him just right, pulling him so close to that edge he has been fighting. So James decides to give up, pulling out, his shaft all shiny with pussy slick, returning to where he really wants his dick.

He slides it back between your thighs, right at the spot that he’s already gotten wet. The extra slide from your pussy makes him moan more. You lay there and watch him, confused and still turned on.

Then your thumb starts to rub his head as it pushes through your thighs and James really can’t take it anymore. He blows his load all over your stomach, spurting thick ropes all over your skin.

And you watch eagerly, dragging your finger through the mess and licking it clean. What a slut.

James does the good samaritan thing and drives you home, helping you back into your heels and vehemently denying you ever wearing panties. And you believe him, walking on shaky legs to your apartment complex.

He watches you leave, grabbing the underwear he hid and draping the gusset over his hard cock. It kicked right back to life almost the second after you both finished, and he needs to take care of it.

James sits there in the driver’s seat, head thrown against the headrest as he fucks his fist up into your panties. The perversion and the memory of you and those pretty lips he could’ve stretched open on cock, the perfect tang of your pussy slick and the wet heat of your cunt have him soaking your underwear in another load.

He already felt bad about drugging you, and now the post nut clarity hits even harder as he peels the soiled fabric off his dick and chucks it in his glove compartment. His car smells like your perfume, it’s a nice touch, James decides to finally do what he’s been wanting to.

It’s an hour later when his car careens off a cliff, sinking down into the murky depths of the water, the moon his only witness.

[therosebookshop]

Anatomy Practice

͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ ·͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

Warnings/Contains: fluff, anatomy practice mentions, Rafayel definitely likes your body, fluff, kinda suggestive, idk bro

A/N: w for TikTok to show this to me on my fyp and w for my bestie, who I was on call with and watching TikTok with, to suggest this for a fanfic. It’s short but I like it

Music listened to: my daylist- ‘vocaloid gurokawaii night’

͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ ·͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

You’d come over to Rafayel’s, as you usually did on your day off, and he’d put you to work helping him while he worked. So far, you’d fetched paint, paintbrushes, held a curtain to the side so the light hit the painting he was working on just right for over an hour, and now you were hunting for a sketchbook.

You wondered if he ever cleaned. Splotches of paint seemed to be on everything, except-somehow- his white shirt. There was even paint in your black jeans. Still, you liked the splotches of color.

And on the subject of not cleaning, there was stacks of sketchbooks. He said it should have a black cover, maybe say ‘anatomy practice’ on it. Some of these sketchbooks looked like they hadn’t been touched in forever. You flipped through some idly. The sketches were always so good. You’d never been much of an artist- the people you’d tried to draw had always seemed so wrong and lopsided.

You found a black cover sketchbook and leaned back on your heels to flip through it to see if it was the one he needed. The sketches were all of somebody’s body- sitting, standing, lying, in various positions. You wondered who it was supposed to be. Somebody he’d created in his head to perfect anatomy drawings?

You came across a sketch in perfect detail of undoubtedly a woman, lying under her side, a sheet over her body, the slopes and lines of the sheet over her body showing a slimmer form. Her face was less detailed, but it was definitely you.

The thought made your cheeks flush. He’d been sketching you?

You flipped back through the sketchbook. You recognized some of these positions now. You wondered why Rafayel liked to bring his sketchbook with you two sometimes. Now it made sense.

Suddenly the sketchbook was snatched from your hands, and you looked up to see a more pouty than usual Rafayel. “Wrong sketchbook.” He said, looking slightly embarrassed.

“….There’s a birthmark on my hip, you know, and some other stuff you missed.”

There was a long pause of him just staring at you and you silently staring back before he tugged you up to your feet.

Yeah, you weren’t leaving tonight.

[tired-aliensoul]

Sometimes I keep my true age a secret because it’s just easier for others to assume it depending on the situation

However

It’s also tiring being talked down to because they think I’m younger than them. Which is why I really try to not talk down to those younger than me

People’s attitudes tend to change once they know and it’s a mixed review

Then I’m half paranoid that I do actually look my age and everyone is overreacting to make fun of me

[vaguely-concerned]

just going about my day idly contemplating how some of the ways hawke can interact with a romanced anders are not at all unlike how they interact with leandra (and a bit of carver too, especially with a purple hawke), and then thought about my hawke in the timeline where he romances anders and was hit straight in the face with 'was he ever actually in love, or was he just desperately trying to renegotiate with his mother's ghost in any way he could' and now i need to lie down. this is the power of dragon age 2

[stereax]

woohoo spiraling out of control right now (what else is new really I've been fucked up and spiraling for weeks now) and trying to figure out reasons not to delete my tumblr and discord and myself along the way

but you know. talking about myself on my blog automatically means I'm attention seeking and fishing for pity right? should just shut up and stick to the news eh, it's all I'm good for :D

anyway if you need me I'll be in the corner reliving the past, coming to terms with reality, and trying to convince myself I'm not the problem despite every indication to the contrary ✌︎︎

[thehmn]

I’m a strong proponent of lying to get the help you need. I always try the truthful route first but if that gets me nowhere? Lying it is.

I think it’s important to respect other people’s time, wellbeing and money so I don’t do it in situations where I know I’m in the wrong, like if I want to get into a place just for fun and someone could get in trouble for letting me in wrongfully I’d rather not.

But sometimes people just don’t understand why something is important in your situation so you have to turn it into something they understand. When I lived in England I constantly lied about being pregnant so gas station employees would let me use their bathroom because for some reason they didn’t have public bathrooms.

Or when my doctor’s secretary couldn’t get it into her head that my stomach pains were very serious and concerning and insisted I couldn’t get an appointment this month so that evening I “found” a lump that I was pretty sure was nothing but it meant I had a reason to call her the next day and get a new appointment immediately and when the doctor told me the lump was harmless I could tell her what my real problem was and she immediately scheduled ALL the tests and examinations because she understood how concerning it was. I just had to get past the fucking secretary with a lie.

Fuck I even support that elderly man who lied about having four children who were stuck in a house during a flood but when the rescue team got there in a dinghy they realized it was four dogs. The guy knew he had to lie because he was too sick to help them himself (able bodied people in the area were able to save their own pets) and they wouldn’t have helped him if they knew it was “just dogs”. In the video the rescue team can be seen choking up and padding him on the back while he cries with his scared dogs in his arms. The team is clearly not mad because they can see how important the dogs are to him but I have no doubt he was right in thinking they wouldn’t have helped if he had told them the truth.

So do what ya gotta do and lie lie lie.

[noahthegrailkeeper]

It's been two years since my stay at the clinic and my BPD diagnosis....

[yume-no-miya]

look i love making sae be the one who's so in love and showering hajun with so much love and affection but it's much more fun to think that HE fell harder than her

[yanderenightmare]

TW: noncon, yandere, omegaverse, subjugation, some type of sexism, angsty, also a little fluffy?

fem reader

Discussions about superiority and inferiority between Alphas, Betas, and Omegas have become more popular lately. It’s always been many people’s opinion that the weak should cater to those stronger than them—but a debate with that as its topic is unsavory. Unfortunately, they’ve found new ways to phrase it. 

A resonating “Unmated Omegas are a danger to themselves!” garners much more sympathy…

And with the rise of people talking about it in the media, it was only natural to move the conversation into school as well.

You keep your head bowed in class as the chill runs down your spine. You feel the glare of thirty fellow students—the points of their teeth, too, and how they snicker under their breath. It’s always been rather scary being an omega, but you can’t say you’ve ever felt quite so alone.  

The teacher’s an alpha, so why should he care how what he says impacts you? He’s preaching to the choir, and you’ve never had the right to sing. The three other Omegas in your class have all chosen to stay home. They probably have the right idea—wait it out until it all blows over.

But you don’t know when that might be… You don’t know if that will be.

Society is on the precipice of critical change—new politics, new laws, new systems, new rights that separate you from them. You wallow in fear of the outcome, lying awake at night and scrolling through the news under the safety of your duvet. The statements seem endless. You wonder, why are all politicians Alphas?

You don’t want any of the things they’re suggesting—mating homes to help you find the perfect Alpha to bond with, systematic pairings done from birth, auctions. Is no one going to suggest they put shock collars on all Alphas and Betas to keep them in check? They’re the ones who need to—

“Your scent is distracting the whole class—don’t you feel ashamed?” 

It’s too easy for him to have you bent over the desk, your wrist on your back in his big fist as he wraps his tie around them. He and his goons stand around, all smiles—watching—enjoying it. It’s as if they’ve planned the whole thing, the way two of them peel away from the crowd to grab each their pick of your feet. Parting them, they use your own shoelaces to tie them to the desk legs.

The ringleader laughs. There’s an awful smell coming off him in waves—it makes you quiver. He flips your skirt up and whistles at the sight, showing everyone your ass and cotton undies. The bulge he presses against you is enough to make your tears spill despite how hard you’d fought to keep them at bay, knowing it only arouses them further.

“Aww, don’t cry, little bitch. You should be happy,” he coos, leaning over your trapped form to whisper right at your ear. “Don’t you know? You’ll never feel happier than you will bouncing on my big Alpha dick. It’s all your little Omega cunt dreams about, isn’t it?” He snickers, fiddling with his belt buckle—you flinch at every sharp clink as he jostles the metal. “Well, salvation is here—”

“Keep it to yourself.” Another voice breaks through the sounds of hollers and cheers.

Your eyes open to see him. You despise how your heart jumps in relief.

“Oi, you—” the guy at your back challenges, stepping away from you and toward the interruption.

“Yeah, me,” he states blankly, jaded. He eyes the rest of the guys with disinterest—five betas, zero threat—before telling them, “All of you. Scram.”

They all take a step to walk out as if his voice alone had compelled them, but then the previous guy interjects, making them stop in their tracks again. “Tch—you know what they’re saying. All unmated Omegas are free game, and I won this one. So back off.”

It was like watching a match of tug-of-war.

“Heh,” the intruder laughs. “That rule only counts for Alphas.”

You spot your aggressor's fists curl—there’s a growl rumbling in the back of his throat. “I am an Alpha, asshole.”

“Really?” he feigns, sizing him up with a cocky tilt of his head. “Couldn’t tell.” He doesn’t seem fazed in light of the aggression—actually, it seems to amuse him if anything. “To me, you smell no different from all these other Beta losers.” 

He takes a casual step forward, hands in his pockets and a smile on his face—baring canines with grace.

“But if you wanna prove it, I’m ready when you are.”

It’s quiet after the declaration. The betas are unsure who’s side to pick, none of them eager to get caught in the middle. It becomes a competition purely between the two Alphas.

Without backup, your aggressor backs down and leaves.

“Thought so,” your savior jeers, showing the crowd out, closing and locking the door behind them.

It’s quiet after they’ve left.

You hide your face. Listening to his footsteps approach—he sighs when taking the place of the former guy. He doesn’t touch you, though.

“Y’know…” he starts. “That guy might be trash, but he isn’t wrong…” He picks up your skirt and drapes it back in place. “None of this would ever happen if you weren’t unmated.”

You speak through grit teeth. “Untie me.”

He chuckles familiarly at that, clicking his tongue at you. “What? Aren’t you gonna say please?” But he does what you say anyway. Squatting down, he starts with your ankles.

The scent of your fear still lingers in the air despite your tough act. You’ve always been so steadfast, ever since you were kids, even when it does you no good. He frees your feet—one, then the other, slowly—he even reties your laces into pretty bows before he’s done. 

He remembers it being so obvious. The sun rose in the morning and the moon at night, and you were supposed to be an Alpha while he a Beta at best. You promised you’d be by his side to keep him safe forever, and he wanted nothing more.

But then puberty hit, and nothing was as you’d imagined.

He stands and unknots the tie keeping your wrists restrained.

You immediately push him off—already storming away.

“Do I get no thank you, no nothing? Always so stubborn—” He grabs your arm.

You spin around, an unnatural snarl on your face. “Let go!”

You’d have been a terrifying Alpha. But as fate has it, you’re not. And you shouldn’t act like it. It only lands you in trouble.

But he doesn’t say that. 

“You been watchin’ the news?” he says instead, ignoring your cry and keeping a firm grip on your arm. “Seems like auctions are winning the voters. You know what that means?”

He feels you flinch, followed by a quiver. He can tell. No matter how good you are at hiding it. He can see—the way you’re fraying at the edges, barely holding it together. Always acting so strong. He can’t tell whether you enjoy torturing yourself or if you’re just that good at convincing yourself you’re fine.

“Pretty soon, new authorities are gonna come storming in here, roundin’ up every sorry unmated Omega they find, and put ‘em all on a farm where pompous Alphas can have their pick of the litter.”

He can never tell what you’re thinking, but he knows he doesn’t need to tell you any of this. You’re not stupid, you never have been. He knows you already know. But…

“You should decide now while it’s still your choice.” 

You must be terrified. He understands. But truly… it’s obvious what you have to do, isn’t it?

“It’s not like you have many options.”

It’s obvious. It always has been.

You don’t meet his eyes. You haven’t for a long while. Actually, you haven't since both of you got your test results. He understands this wasn’t what you had in mind, but you can’t afford to mope about it forever—

“How am I supposed to choose any Alpha when you’re all such assholes…”

Your mutter stunts him. It wasn’t what he expected. Or, the words were more or less exactly something he’d expect from you, but that voice—quiet and soft, dangling on the brink of sweet. If you’d said anything else, he’d have taken it as a confession.

“Can't argue with that,” he ends up chuckling again.

You hate how easy this is for him. He would cry at every turn when you were kids. It’s unfair. 

“But you can’t keep doing this, either,” he states. His voice is soft, paired with that ugly authority they all have when talking to you—talking down to you. “Just look where it gets you—scared and exhausted because of it. At least have the brains to stay home.” He says it as if it’s a joke, but you both know it isn’t. His chuckles are light—far from fullhearted.

He bends down, trying to find your eyes. He still holds onto your arm, knowing you’d sooner stomp away than listen to him. His other hand brushes your cheek gently, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“You hear the call from the rafters—it’s not about what you want anymore. It’s about what you need.”

That’s what they say, isn’t it? What you need. You want to slap him. Scratch him with claws, bite his throat out—make him choke on his own words. Need? What you need is for them all to fuck off.

You mean to say it with the same sentiment, but something hard and rough in your throat makes all your words come out wobbly. “Mate an Alpha to stay safe from other Alphas. What a joke.”

You bow your head further. The tears return. They burn as they trail down the sore streaks from before.

He’s never seen you like this. He won’t lie, it makes his pants tight—feeling the urge to suck your cheeks, hold you close and comfort you. But knowing you right, you’d probably never let him. Your face would probably scrunch up in disgust, punch his gut, knee his groin, then turn on your heel and leave him on the floor wheezing.

You really would have made the most terrifying Alpha. 

“The world isn’t fair,” he agrees. “But you get nowhere cryin’ about it—do it my way, and you’ll never—”

“Have any freedom,” you cut him off with a sniffle. 

It’s about the most adorable thing he’s seen in his life.

He gets why you don’t like Alphas—they’re all gross. He makes himself sick sometimes. He can’t believe he’s getting off on watching you have a mental breakdown. There’s something seriously wrong with his side of the species. His throat’s tight, mouth watery with the urge to reap your vulnerability. 

Suppressing it only makes his inner beast furious. Some of that aggression comes out in his next words.

“I’m sorry, but the world doesn’t give a shit about your freedom.” 

The grip around your arm tightens, and you look up in shock—watching his narrowed eyes through your watery ones. 

“What you need is safety—now more than ever. Or do you like being preyed on by every Alpha around the corner?” 

Your bottom lip trembles at the reality of it—a little while ago, you were almost— 

“One of these days, I'm not gonna be here in time, and you’ll be a slave to some fucking—” 

He huffs and hangs his head. His hand loosens up—it trembles where he holds you in place.

“In all honesty, I think I’m more scared than you,” he whispers under his breath. “I think I might kill—”

He stops himself again. You don’t know if it’s in an effort not to frighten you or himself.

“Speak about needs…” he begins anew, now softer. “I need to know you’re safe. I need to—” He looks up. His eyes are back to being round. “I need you more than you need me, probably.”

There’s a desperation on his face. It almost looks like he’s on the verge of tears himself.

“So… please?” he begs. “Will you keep me safe like you promised and stay by my side?”

Your tears dry and prickle. Looking into his eyes now, you see the same boy you knew back in your childhood—that one who’d chase you all over even when you’d call him a sniveling crybaby. You realize, Alpha or not, he hadn’t changed all that much at all. 

“It’s not like you need my permission,” you end up saying.

You’ve always been so hard-headed. He has to smile. “No, but I want it.”

You nibble your lip. You can’t believe you’re at the mercy of this big dumb hunk of… you don’t have the words to describe him. He wasn’t exactly a crybaby anymore. 

“Okay. You win.” 

His eyes widen as you bear your neck with a stretch. Head high and shoulders slack. 

You swallow thickly. “Get it over with.”

He shudders at the sight. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but now it almost seemed too soon. 

“We should be supervised by a professional—you know how wrong things can go—”

“Hurry up before I change my mind.” Your eyes remain shut, and your lips pursed.

His tongue grows thick in his mouth at your bark. A sudden stroke of performance anxiety makes his palms sweaty, hands heavy and shaking. But then the sight of your soft neck has his mood shift, becoming drowsy.

He has no control over the growl that begins rumbling from his gut.

But he doesn’t apologize for it either.

He bends forward—breaths on your chest before he licks your throat. You can’t help but whimper at the warmth. He watches you through hooded eyes—your usually angry face is now all cute, riddled with anxiety you try hiding paired with the grim anticipation of pain.

“Shh,” he soothes, kissing the spot softly. He sways you against him, then lifts you up on the desk for you to sit. Grazing your neck with teeth when feeling your hands tangle two fistfuls of his shirt. He expects you to push him away, but you don’t—you tug him closer instead as if silently telling him to hurry up.

But he doesn’t want to rush, doesn’t want to lose himself—that’s how accidents happen. So he sticks to sucking gently, only tiny nibbles that leave your skin hot and lightly bruised in their wake.

You give a moan once he finds the spot, and he growls in restraint upon the pretty sound—feeling you relax despite being threatened with his teeth right at your artery. He almost humps your leg in return, feeling the boil of blood pump him hot and heavy in his pants—breaths turning equally hot and heavy, each one laced with rust.

Drool coated your neck in a cool sheen, soothing the marks made beneath it, while his lips and fangs aroused pleasure in the spot that now ached for the sting of his bite.

“Please,” slipped from your mouth while tugging him closer. 

His eyes, completely drunk on the pretty prayer, had only a slim rim of color left surrounding the hungering bottomless pits, blown full and black with opium.

No one could come and take you away from him now. Not with his print so pretty on your neck. You were his—just as you were always supposed to be.

♡ BNHA – Deku, Kirishima, Natsuo, Amajiki, Mirio ♡ JJK – Yuji, Yuuta ♡ HQ – Kuro, Miya twins ♡ DS – Tanjiro, Zenitsu

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist