#maybe that wicked side needs to come out sometimes

[mzannthropy]

"I wouldn’t want to marry anybody who was wicked, but I think I’d like it if he could be wicked and wouldn’t."

Anne Shirley, Anne of the Island

[satzumosupremacy]

Nothing More, Nothing Less

Male reader x Yujin

4k Words

Tags: Smut, Cheating

Yujin always calls you during her boyfriend’s business trip, and it’s always every three months—secrecy at its finest. A pattern that you learned as Yujin kept coming over after a year of meeting her.

You got someone’s daughter, another man’s girlfriend, all under the sheets, screaming your name so desperately and erotically in your bed—no guilt, no shame. Although you never planned to keep having her, the adrenaline and thrills of another man’s woman in your bed were like no other feelings. She’s just what you want and need.

Speaking of which, a relationship with her would end in tragedy—assumingly or not, but the same way she’s cheating with you could be the same with another man. It’s only assumptions. Neither of you knows the future or what it holds.

Day three is the best, and it’s mostly every time. Yujin only had another day to recover after her legs became weak. Rarely, it sometimes becomes so passionate to the point that feelings and romance can spark dangerously. The whole house becomes a mess with clothes all over the floor, misplaced pillows, and unfinished drinks. During the night, the lights would be all off with just you and Yujin fucking in the dark. Bodies did all the talking.

The only thing you knew about her was that she just wanted to fuck—day and night. Of course, there will be breaks in between. There aren’t such things as genuine feelings of love, apart from just being together under the same roof naked. Yujin never wears a bra, knowing it’s going to be off either way, and you love seeing her nipples poking out her shirt. 

“I love the way you touch and fuck me.”

The wholehearted confession she made as you spent time on the bed naked with her. Assumingly, you know her boyfriend doesn’t satisfy her, and it was a pity. Yujin needed more than just vanilla. She deserves more for the beauty that she is.

In fact, she’s good at using her mouth, apart from the dirty talking. Those very eyes of hers are always desperate and hungry for more. It’s surprising how you got a beautiful woman in bed without her boyfriend knowing. You’re keeping her secretly fucking and cumming anywhere she wants. Sex with her always leads to a hot mess most of the time and all tired after, lasting hours, and sometimes before the sun has risen. There’s no such thing as a quickie.

Mostly every time, but not always, you would act like her boyfriend out in public or even inside the house. It’s always natural with Yujin—maybe that’s what went wrong when she’s smiling with you more and keeps coming over during her boyfriend's trip. 

——

It’s been around three months since you kept track; you patiently waited, knowing she’s going to text. Speaking of the devil, you received a text, and it was from her.

Yujin: I’m coming over

She knew what days you were busy or not. You waited for Yujin, but it didn’t take long until she showed up at your door again, knocking shamelessly with no guilt.

“You look beautiful today,” you said with a gentle tone.

“I have three days to be with you. Give it to me.”

“Yujin,” you paused in silence while she looked at you.

“Yes?”

“You want something to eat first?” Fucking Yujin isn’t the only thing you wanted, but treat her with respect—the beautiful woman she is. She’s a human being at the end of the day.

“Give me a taste, and then we can go out for something.” You know her after all the secret rendezvous. If Yujin wanted something, she’s going to do whatever it takes, and she’s already digging under your pants with a smile so wicked and mischievous. 

“You look nice in those clothes, Yujin.”

“My boyfriend bought them. And you’re taking them off one by one.”

“Yujin that’s…” You tilt your head, somehow wondering how wrong it was, yet the sensation feels undeniably correct as her warm hands tease your cock.

Just when you believed you had witnessed the wild side of her, she never fails to leave you speechless. As the days unfold, everything else doesn't matter—she'll be in your bed, completely naked with her panties stained with your cum.

“Shh. No one knows what we have between us, Daddy.”

“Lay your head on the couch, ass on the floor,” you commanded. She loves it when you’re in control.

“As you wish, Daddy.” With a smile and a slow blink, Yujin's so beautiful that you can do anything to her. She’s in your very hands and arms at night. Yujin lays her head on the cushion of the couch while her body is slanted on the ground with her legs spread and her ass being the only thing that’s keeping her positioned. She gladly opens her mouth wide—tongue out. You shove your cock in her mouth slowly until it disappears, keeping it deep into her throat with small, quiet chokes from Yujin. 

“Good girl.” You can tell she’s smirking from the corner of her mouth just from being called that. “You look so beautiful with my cock in."

No words were exchanged as you increased the pace of your thrusts. She gasps, chokes, and her eyes shut tightly under the intensity. Gently brushing her hair behind her ears, you enjoy the view of Yujin.

Pinning her down isn’t the only thing you love. Bending Yujin to a table, countertop, bed, wall, or even standing is what you also love. You have all the control while she freely moans and groans. It’s the same for Yujin—she loves to fuck you in the most narcissistic way for her pleasure. Her body is a drug; toned thighs, silky hair that gets messy after fucking, and even her beauty keep you yearning. Sometimes, you wouldn’t even pull out but go for another round after cumming. Yujin deserves it, as do you.

You love the feeling, her, and her very own sense of bringing you this much pleasure. You pull out halfway and shove your cock right in to make her gag even louder. It’s cute of Yujin—hotter as you keep doing it continuously. 

No woman gave you the pleasures like Yujin. Maybe it’s that she’s over, maybe she’s cheating with you, or Yujin has been longing for satisfaction for a while.

“Fuck, Yujin.” You said, groaning and taking deep breaths. Her tears begin to form, her eyes all red like lightning, as she only had one goal: getting you to cum inside her mouth. You continuously shove your cock, and it always gets messy when her saliva leaks out from the corner of her mouth. You grunt and groan, forgetting that she’s technically someone else’s woman, but Yujin’s all yours for several nights, and you’re taking advantage of it. “Just like that. I know you missed this."

You pull out of her mouth to let her breathe. Yujin looks up to you, glaring with desperate eyes. She spits on your cock, then wraps her hands again, jerking you off and squeezing it with love. Saliva and pre-cum were the only things dripping onto her clothes. “Taste good as always.” 

“Just for you, Yujin.”

She kisses your cock, slapping it on her cheeks with a smile. “I can never get tired of you.”

“How badly did you wait for this moment?”

“Too fucking long. Maybe because I love your cock better than my boyfriend’s.”

“Let’s keep it that way. He don’t need to know what you can do. Let him miss out.”

Yujin laughs, “you make me so fucking happy.”

“I could say the same. But hey, less talking, more sucking, please.”

“You’re so eager to cum in my mouth aren’t you?”

“Why wouldn’t I, Yujin?"

“What about my pussy? Im also your cum-slut.”

“Bend over right now and we won’t be able to go for dinner if you’re that curious.”

“What if I do bend over?”

“Let’s-” Her thumb rubs on the underside of your tip, sensitive enough to make you stumble in your speech. “Fuck, Yujin,” you groaned. And her eyes were purely lustful at the way she was looking up at you. 

“I think we should stay home, Daddy."

“What’s so special about eating out when I have you, Yujin. Am I right?”

“Eat me after you cum.” Yujin sucks on your cock again, slurping loudly and making a mess like she was sucking on a popsicle stick. You brush her hair behind her, wanting to see Yujin sucking you off so beautifully. And you’re always baffled by seeing Yujin so nasty, hot, and even beautifully sucking on your cock. It’s a blessing. 

“Right there, Yujin.” Her tongue’s sliding underneath your tip. The area she loves teasing you the most. She laughs with enjoyment as you try to stand straight. Bobbing, slurping, sucking, moaning, and humming—it’s all you hear from Yujin. 

Paradise, or rather the feeling of pure euphoria. In her company, time seems to stretch, and neither of you mind if the world momentarily stops revolving.

She grabs your thighs and tilts her head to the side. Her cheeks are massaging your sensitive tip. Overwhelmed by an endless flow of sensations, grunting, and panting, she’s amazing at pleasing you.

“Yujin.” You groaned her name, a longer tone of pleasure as you kept brushing through her hair.

“Mhmm.” She hummed, smirking and smiling with your cock inside her mouth.

It’s torture and pleasurable at the same time, and you don’t want to do anything about it. She continues to bob her head; her gags got louder, chokes got harder, and eyes closed so beautifully to see her eyelashes all done for you. Your breaths got heavy, panting more as she kept going. Euphoria is where you’re still at. Without a word, you push your cock right inside her deeper and nape against the cushion of the couch harder.

“I’m going to cum if you keep doing that, and I’m going to cum deep in your throat.”

Yujin nods in agreement, gazing directly at you with lustful eyes. Her throat contracts the deeper you go, and you love the feeling. You thrust slowly, faster by the second, until she begins to choke and gag loudly like usual. By any means, you would rather ruin her makeup that she put on just for you. Even if it took an hour, the look on Yujin’s face would be the aftermath of satisfaction between the two of you. 

“Take it like the little slut you fucking are.” You felt her swallowing every drop of saliva and pre-cum, until choking was what she got for doing it. Letting her swallow isn’t what you wanted—a mess is what you want to see. You go deeper, pausing as she sits still without any muscle or movement being pinned down. “Don’t swallow, and be my good girl. Make a mess like you always do. Don’t be shy; it’s not like you.” 

She blinks slowly, with a tear falling. A sign that Yujin listened. Her hands squeeze your thighs as you pull back out halfway, shoving right in her mouth again—continuously. Seconds turn to minutes; she’s such a mess as you look at her. 

You hold onto the side of her face with a grin, whether or not you’re going to cum like this. It's not about her at this point; it’s all you—the feeling of pleasure cumming inside her mouth. And Yujin’s going to take it all like the shameless slut she comes over for.

“I’m going to cum.” You tell Yujin, and her eyes are closed shut with her head pushed harder onto the couch. Yujin coughs from all your cum down her throat, and she’s taking it with a smirk so slutty. You feel her swallowing all your cum, and you pull out as her mouth is still wide open, just licking off the extra on her lips, brushing it with each finger to savor the taste on her tongue.

“That was so much,” Yujin said, catching her breath. She wipes her lips clean and sits on the couch, quickly spreading her legs out, beckoning you for an invitation so seductively.

“Such a slut you are, Yujin.”

“You’ll shut up when you eat me out.” And she's right. You kiss her thighs, quickly licking on her folds, and she moaned right as soon as she felt your warm tongue circling in all the right places. Yujin’s legs hang onto both your shoulders, squirming around the more you eat her out. 

Her legs pin you in, and you aren’t going easy. It’s also been too long since the last time Yujin came over. You were hungry just for her. With her moans being more erotic, you know all the spots to make her melt and weaken. You grabbed onto her tits, squeezing them the hardest, as Yujin could only tolerate the aggression. 

Squirms, slight jerks, and her moans breaking became continuous. She tilts back, only her back arching as her legs pull you in harder. Your face became planted to her pussy. Breathing isn’t your worry; getting her to cum hard is all you wanted—right in your face.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…..fuck!” Her body sinks onto the couch uncomfortably, but you’re making her like this. You wouldn't take it easy on Yujin; you want her exhausted after. “You’re gonna-”

With a pause from Yujin, you felt her body tense as she screamed uncontrollably in the most erotic way. She's cumming earlier than you ever expected. It's just minutes later that her breathing slows down. “When was the last time, Yujin?"

And you continue to kiss her thighs until she gives you an answer.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said and looks to the side, embarrassed to cum earlier than you expected.

“Talk to me,” you kiss her thighs passionately, “you taste so good though. And it’s always every time that my I get a chance.”

“You aren’t disappointed, are you?”

“Not at all. Let’s go to the bed. I’ll make you happier than him.” You carry Yujin to the bed without her answer. “Just relax, and I’ll do the work today. You’ll be sleeping so comfortably tonight."

“So confident of you.”

You threw her on the bed, and she fought to be on top as you let her let it happen after a few seconds. She laughed, chuckled to be happier with you. “I should fuck you romantically. We can do what you want tomorrow, Yujin.” 

“At least let me be on top. I want to feel loved tonight. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Her words made you gulp, just wondering what was happening to her without you. Although you were curious, you didn’t want to ask. "Feel free to do as you please tonight, Yujin."

“I’m sorry, this isn't how we usually are on the first night, but thanks for understanding.”

You beckon her to get closer, kissing her passionately until she begins to grind on your cock. “I’ll love you for tonight. Maybe tomorrow if you need it also, Yujin.” 

“Shh, I’ll turn off the lights. Just let me have it my way. Cum as much as you want. It’s mine, Daddy.” Yujin gets up and shuts the lights off, even closing the blinds to a pitch-black bedroom. She gets on top of you, just her hands jerking you off slowly. Her hair brushes onto the sides of your cheeks as Yujin kisses you more romantically. “Love me tonight."

“Ready when you are, Yujin. Ride it as long as you want.”

A night like this wasn’t in your favor, or either, as you imagined, but you willingly accepted her feelings, just for the night.

The moment she puts your cock in her, Yujin gets closer to you in a more lustful way, staring at you romantically. And the kisses quickly became tongues fighting. Yujin grinds slowly the moment you trace over her figure, just caressing her in the most gentle way.

“Say you love me. Just for the night.”

And you’re surprised at what she wanted you to say. Regardless of whatever is going on in her life, you’re the one she’s cheating with. “I love you, Yujin.”

“Should we fuck to a slow song? Let’s try something new.” Yujin sits on top of you and browses for a song on her playlist. While she was on her phone, you caress her thighs, which you love to feel. The slow and soft, with the gentle squeezes you made, only made Yujin giggle with happiness. 

“You’re always smiling when you’re with me, Yujin.”

Yujin seductively gazes you up and down in the slowest way with a teasing chuckle. “That’s because I get to be with you, Daddy.” 

The song starts playing. You heard how slow the beat was, and it can come off sexual due to the lyrics. The moment Yujin lays down on top of your chest, both of you moan together as she starts to ride you.

Neither of you broke a single eye contact while the song was playing. The moment was with her, fucking each other like both of you are in love, and that’s how it remains. Even Yujin had her hands on the sides of your cheeks, begging you not to look away and keep staring at her, and only at her. 

It gets more dangerous when your heart starts fluttering while Yujin already has butterflies in her stomach. Neither of you wanted to admit any of this and quietly continued with the song in the background. Her breathing became heavier, moans got softer, yet it sounded erotic at the same time while you’re balls deep in her. And both of you are in the moment together, quietly.

The time each song changes, you can only assume how long she’s been riding you without any words. Every three to four minutes is typically how long a song lasts, and you’re grunting the longer Yujin rides.

She continues kissing you, from neck to lips, and you join her for passionate kisses. It didn’t take long for tongue kisses to start happening. You hold her in like you love her, tilting your head the opposite way from Yujin and making her hair a mess.

Not until the fifth song starts playing, the music suddenly pauses as you hear her ringtone. Yujin looks at the phone and puts it on silent, playing the song again to not disturb what both of you are doing.

“It’s just my boyfriend,” Yujin said in an annoyed tone and quickly gets down towards you again to continue.

Her kisses get more passionate, riding you to the rhythm of a slow romantic song. You caress her body to your desires in the early night.

“Fuck, just like that, Yujin,” you groaned.

“Daddy,” Yujin whispered in your ear purposely, “this pussy is all yours.” She gets off and lays beside you to be on the bottom.

You quickly get up on top to hear Yujin moan loudly for the split second you shove your cock inside her. She’s a beauty while her hair spreads on the pillow. And without a word, you pin her arms above her head, thrusting slowly with the rhythm of the song. 

Song after song, Yujin starts to pant every second with you, knowing she’s going to cum, and you’re almost at your limit. Her body jerks, quivering into Yujin cumming on your cock as you quickly choke her neck gently. 

“Good girl,” you groaned with a deep voice.

Not long after, she hugs you while you’re balls deep in her, thrusting slowly. And you continue to stare at Yujin, right in each other’s soul, while she nods from her body brushing against the bedsheets. 

You begin to choke her, not like she wouldn’t smile if her airway was blocked. Yet, she wanted love and affection tonight, and you’re giving it to her. You kiss her lips, biting them softly for the warm breaths you feel. 

“Get up and bend over for me, Yujin.”

“You love seeing my back, don’t you?” Yujin gets up and spreads her legs, looking back at you putting your cock back in without rest. It’s her toned back and ass that you love so much—just a shameless woman sleeping with you that doesn’t belong to you, but only on the bed. The backlines on her back when she arched always looked so beautiful. 

“Shh. Just moan for me, Yujin, like you always do.”

Her back arches more to give you a show of her body that you always get. “You’re fucking me so damn good,” Yujin murmurs into the pillow.

And you push her down, stomach flat on the bed with her moaning more erotic. Nothing sounded better when Yujin moaned in your bed all the time; it was pure bliss. Just music to your ears, and again, the thought of cumming inside her would be the best feeling every time.

You nibble on her ear, smelling the faint tropical shampoo she used today. It turns you on the fact that she got ready just for you. Yujin grips the pillow harder with her face planted. For not even a second, she wouldn’t stop moaning; it was just the right pace that Yujin loved: deep and moderate thrust—enough to feel loved.

“Say you love me, Yujin,” you murmured and groaned into her ear, just dancing with the devil and making feelings involved at this point.

“I love you, Daddy,” Yujin said, breathing along the rhythm of your thrust.

“Turn around, I’ll cum inside your pussy.”

She turned around quickly after you pulled out, beckoning you with a smile so happy that her legs spread open for an invitation. “Give it to me; no need to tell me.” 

So you would, and she wouldn’t care anyway. Yujin loves how your cock throbs inside her, coating her tight walls in warm cum each time. You can tell she’s addicted to you, your cock, and everything you do to her, even in the smallest ways to make Yujin happy and loved.

“Don’t stop,” Yujin pleaded.

You’ve lost count of how many songs went by. Yujin is in your very arms, gripping you so tightly. Her hands are soft and warm, and you feel how much love she needs for this. Neither of you would be able to tell if this is love or just wanted a rendezvous. 

You thrust deeper, pushing her thighs against your pelvis. Yujin moaned harder with her neck begging for attention, and you kiss her neck, making her tilt into the pillow while her arms were pinned against the headrest. 

“Cum in me, Daddy. I want it!”

Your cock throbs with each stroke, and Yujin has it all deep inside her. You grunt, only thrusting harder as your body hesitates. And you cum, erupting inside Yujin while she moans from feeling it flood her walls.

“Yujin,” you said, toppling down towards her and going for a kiss that she accepted. You felt the warmth of her body after you waited for months. “Cumming inside you is so satisfying.” 

Without a word, she holds you in, kissing your lips like you belong to her. You heard her moaning and humming as you joined Yujin for a romantic kiss. Back to your awareness, the song was still playing, and you turned down the volume to mute, not even caring if it was still playing silently. 

“I need to shower after this.” And she stares at you with a cute smile.

“Need me, Yujin?”

“No, you’re covered in my scent. I want to smell myself on your body.”

“Join me tomorrow morning, Yujin.”

She nodded with a seductive smirk and grabbed her phone. You stare at her naked body until she closes the door to the bathroom with a bright smile.

It’s been more than twenty minutes after she came out the shower. You’re relaxing on the bed with her, quiet as you both stare at your phones and cuddling.

“Want to see my panties? It’s so drenched and stained with your cum. I could feel it.”

“So dirty of you, Yujin.”

“And you love how I’m such a dirty whore for you.” She gets up on her knees and opens the slit of her panties for you to see your cum stained. “What do you say? The night is still young, Daddy.”

There weren’t any second thoughts. You get closer to her as Yujin closes her eyes with a smile to meet your lips, until you suddenly come to a pause. “Forget tomorrow; how about joining the shower with me? Then we can crash on the bed again.”

“Fine. That’s if we can even make it on the bed, Daddy.”

[gilverrwrites]

YAY PENGUIN FISCS!! Can you please do something soft and fluffy with Ozzie! Maybe he's feeling a insecure about their age difference and she makes him feel bettere? thankyou

Guys My Age

Pairing: Oswald Cobblepot/GN!Reader

Rating: Mature

Words: 561

AN: Yes! Yes, I can! I wanna give this man so much loving! 🖤💜

Ko-Fi || Masterlist || Request Info

Content: Fluff, insecurities, (mild) sexual themes, age gap, implied nudity.

Please Remember: You can, and you will.

Deep, steady breathing fills the room as you lay together. Ozzie ran hot, so the silky sheets beneath you served two purposes: to feel luxurious and to stay cool under his heated skin.

Speaking of, once you rolled onto your side, you couldn’t help but run your splayed fingers over him. Enjoying the warmth of his body as you trace the roundness of his belly, then his chest, twirling your fingers in and out of his dark body hair.

Oz grins lopsidedly, exposing his wicked golden teeth. You grin back, enjoying the quiet moment together. 

“I’m gonna go get us something to clean up with.” You lean in close, nuzzling your nose against his before delivering a kiss to his lips, one which he greedily accepts. “Do you need me to get you anything else?”

His hand finds its way to yours, holding it to his chest, keeping you in place. “Don’t you worry about getting up, sweetheart. You let Oz look after you.”

The mattress shuffles under your combined weights as Oz attempts to sit up. Stubbornly, you refuse to move, using your hand to keep him down. It's sweet, the way he always wants to look after you, but sometimes you wish he’d let you do the little things for him without dispute, if only so you could show him how much you appreciate the ‘royal treatment’.

“Come on, Ozzie. Your brace is already off.” You try to sound stern, even narrowing your eyes in a half-hearted glare. “I won’t take long.”

Unwilling to verbally admit defeat, he releases your hand, lips pulling into a begrudging pout as he settles back onto the comforter.

True to your word, it’s barely a minute before you return to the room, climb back on the bed and begin patting him down with a small towel.

“I must have done something real good in a past life to deserve you, darlin’.” When you look up at him, he’s watching you intently; his eyes are tender, admiring, but the remainder of his face lacks any real warmth. 

“Or maybe I was really bad.” You flirt. All clean, you discard the towel at the end of the bed and place yourself close by his side, supporting yourself with one arm to allow you a full view of his face and body.

“Oh, you’re bad, alright.” A smile returns to his lips, his chest shakes under a small chuckle, but it's short-lived. “Seriously though, what are you doing, wasting yourself on an old man like me?”

“Wasting myself? Ozzie… That’s nonsense.” The skin of his scarred cheek feels soft to the touch. “You know I adore you. There’s nobody else I’d rather be with.”

“You’re sweet, baby.” He replies, turning his head, inhaling your scent and placing a chaste kiss on your palm.

“I’m sweet on you, Ozzie.” You coo, turning his head back, allowing you the clearance to lean down and lay your own kiss on his lips. “Besides, nobody else has ever, or could ever, make me feel the way you do.”

From beneath you, he snakes his arms around your waist and tugs, causing you to fall flat onto him. Strong fingers massage the curve of your spin. “How I managed to get a thing like you to fall for me is beyond me, but I sure as hell ain’t lettin’ you go.”

[rosazoldyckk]

-Yandere! Killua Zoldyck X Reader Headcanons-

⚠️warning⚠️ mentions of obsessive/yandere tendencies, kidnapping, stalking and assassination.

Fandom: Hunter X Hunter. Character(s): Killua Zoldyck, Silva Zoldyck, Kikyo Zoldyck, Gon freecs.

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Killua's love for you is intense. This new and rather unique feeling confuses him, and as much as he doesn't want to, he asks his mother and father about it.

Well, safe to say that Kikyo is absolutely FURIOUS that Killua is even thinking about something so foolish. She dedicated her whole being to raising her sons so that they could be the best assassins the zoldyck's could raise, and the heir to the family is thinking about love?? OUTRAGEOUS!!

Silva however, Is much more relaxed than his wife is and even encourages Killua to explore deeper into how he feels about you. To Killua, his father just wants him to be happy and free however in reality Silva wants a secured future for the Zoldyck family. So long as his son remains 'obedient' then all is well. (And maybe Silva can use you as a way to blackmail Killua if he ever becomes a hassle for the family)

Anyways. Now that Silva is on board, Killua is free to do whatever he wants with you!

No doubt that Killua politely asked Milluki to retrieve some information about you. (And by politely asked I mean threatened to destroy Milluki's dolls) And after Milluki being the ‘wonderful’ big brother that he is, Killua now knows all of your family's dark secrets that even you don't know.

Gon is the first to know about Killua's crush on you and in short he's super happy for his best friend! Gon is also just as encouraging as Silva is, even trying to spend some more time with Leorio and Kurapika so that you and you and Killua can have some 'alone time' (Gon doesn't know how crazy Killua is for you.)

Spontaneously walked up behind you one day in York new city and cut off some of your hair. Everyone around to witness it, including you, thought that he was some sort of psychopathic stalker when he was actually trying to be sweet. Even after all this time he still has it in a small ziplock bag underneath his pillow.

He really likes sleeping in the same room as you. Even when you don't know that he's there. You look so impossibly adorable, what with your tranquil expression and your gorgeous body. Killua couldn't help but wonder how it might feel to have you so at peace in his arms, with your steady and gentle breaths pushing against him. He wondered how it might feel to have your hands so securely wrapped in his own, with the softness of your skin soothing his.

Goes without saying that he'd 100% kill for you or torture someone in your name. What else could he do to prove his love? Must he rip out his heart and lay it on a bed of roses for you to acknowledge his undying emotions for you? If he needed help, than surely Gon, Kurapika and Leorio wouldn't hesitate.

Let's face it. Killua wasn't asking you out. He was telling you, you're now dating. He’s got a forceful side to him when it comes to starting the relationship.

If you didn't want to date him, that's just too damn bad because how are you in a position to refuse him when he’s the heir to the worlds strongest assassin family?

"We're not a couple, Killua! Stay away from me!" You screamed. Killua giggled as he looks up at you, a wicked smirk plastered on his face. "Yes... We are, Y/N. I've chosen you." He steps closer, making you gulp. "You're mine now~"

Killua wears the pants in your relationship. Well, he made the pants. He's the dominant one out of you two and he won't have it another way.

He's not delusional, just a boy who’s in love.

Killua may be a little immature, but boy is he smart. Growing up the way he did really gifted him with the art of manipulation and gaslighting to get his way.

Sometimes, he likes to make you feel foolish and pathetic. As a powerplay move.

He informs everyone including his family that both of you are dating. Even if it is not technically true. If Killua says your his. Then sorry, but there’s not much that anyone can do to help you.

Killua also forces his affection on you. (If you can even call it that). His favorite form of physical affection is hand-holding.

His favorite kisses to give are kisses on your knuckles. It's a gentleman's habit he learned here and there.

Call Killua a gentleman, and he’ll hold the title with pride

He'd give you the most bizarre but most expensive gifts (mostly from rich and fancy people that he’s had to assassinate). A whole bar of gold, a diamond necklace, rare animals, flower stems, the fingers of the people he’s had to kill, etc.

Killua isn’t overly expressive when it comes to telling you how much he loves you, Y’know since he didn’t really grow up hearing the words ‘I love you’ on a regular basis. So I think the farthest he expresses his love to you is through his drawings, and the occasional makeout session.

Killua would come to your home in the middle of the night with his skateboard and wake you up just so that he can tell you about the assassin life and how difficult it is. (As much as it’s fun to talk to you, Killua’s purely telling you so that you think twice about ever leaving him)

Now let's talk kidnapping...

If you got to a point where you couldn't take Killua forcing himself on you anymore and trying to flee, he would surely track you down in a short amount of time and then have you tied up tightly somewhere.

It saddens Killua deeply, to think that his love for you simply wasn’t enough to satisfy you, but he makes a silent oath to himself that he will try and be better, the second that he finds somewhere that will make sure that you never leave his side ever again.

His next step would be to inform his parents that a "guest" will be living with them for a while. And as skeptical the family is (an no matter how enraged Kikyo is upon hearing your arrival) they welcome you into their home. (On Killua’s demand) They don't even blink twice at the ropes wrapped around you or the collar tightened around your neck.

[bengals-barnesbabe]

Unattainable

Pairing: LSU!Joe Burrow X Original Fem!Character (unrequited) & LSU!Joe Burrow x BFF!Reader (eventually)

Summary: he’s the lovable quarterback that all women want to get their hands on, but none seem to successfully capture his heart.

Word Count: 1.3K

Warnings: 18+, language, drugs and alcohol

Asking a guy out requires strategy, asking a guy out who has girls that are friends requires a lot more technique, but asking a guy out who has a girl best friend is a hopeless task. You know when you can tell that they’re inseparable from just one encounter, but everyone assures you that there’s nothing going on between them. Yea, a horrible idea to start with. The ones- like your friends- who aren’t pursuing guys in this predicament severely underestimate the task, but continue to push you towards it.

So here you are at a party celebrating his victory on LSU’s football team and in walks Y/n. She spots you and rushes over to where you’re sitting.

“Skylar! I haven’t seen you in so long.”

Because your back is always to me.

“We should hang out sometime.”

A time when you’re not attached to his hip?

“You know what-

Her phone buzzed in her hand before she could finish. “Fuck I need to go, enjoy the rest of the party!”

She gives you a side hug then races back over to the door when in walks the man of the hour. Tall, kind, strong, confident and painfully unattainable, when she’s around nothing in the world exists to him but her and her ridiculously curly hair.

Y/n presses her lips to his ear with an urgent look on her face. Without waiting a second he takes her hand and walks back out. You don’t know what she said to get him to leave with her, but knowing them it could’ve been anything.

So here you are at a party for Joe Burrow, without Joe Burrow. A party you only attended to ask him out at, but here you are sitting by yourself. It was a dumb plan anyway.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The next time you tried to ask him out was at a bar. You were with some of your friends and everyone was having a great time getting drunk and letting loose, when Joe and his friends walked in. You immediately started fixing your hair, outfit, anything he could see if he looked over. The sounds of your friends drunk giggles filled your ears.

“God Sky, just ask him out already.”

“She’s been crushing on him for forever.”

“If you want we could help you.”

Your eyes widened, “Kylie no. No one is doing anything, going anywhere or even looking at him.”

The girl scoffed, “weren’t you just eyefucking him?”

“Maybe you’re just not his type.” A voice joining the table whispered. Gina. She once tried to ask him out as well, when he declined she took it real hard.

“Of course I’m his type, I’m brunette and curvy like his ex.” You point out.

A wicked grin rose on her face, “maybe. But you aren’t a 5 '5-5' 7 curly headed and brown skin like his new girl.”

“They’re just friends.” The words felt like sand coming out your mouth.

“You know what, I’m gonna prove to Gina that every *hiccup* one has a chance.” Kylie stumbled off her stool and walked over to his table, it was more like a baby deer walking for the first time, then fell into him.

“Oh my god.” You cringed for her.

“She’s fucking stupid.”

“Gina, shut the fuck up.”

Over at Joe’s table, some of his friends were laughing at Kylie’s attempts at flirting with him, while y/n just looked amused. They ‘chat’ for a few minutes before you hear Ky say, “would you like to go out sometime?” You know his answer is probably going to be a no, but it’s all about how he answers and it was telling.

His cheeks blush a bit, some from the alcohol and from her question. Then he looks up at Kylie, but glances at y/n, who was now over at the bar, for more than a few seconds. You leave your seat before she comes back to the table. As you walk past the bar y/n smiles and waves at you before taking her drinks back to their table.

Why does she have to be nice?

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Walking into the victory party rushes a wave of deja vu over your body. This entire season felt like one giant celebration which was great for LSU, but you were partied out by now. Kylie invited you because she’s an LSU legacy, so this was a euphoric experience for her. You just wanted to find a random corner and maybe a joint to relax. Luckily there was an entire lounge full of stoners to keep your company.

An hour into the party Kylie came to check on you and immediately started laughing at your current state. “Sky, I think you’re living up to your name right now.”

You smiled up at her with lidded eyes. “This is all I ever want in life Ky.”

“Ok bubs.”

Unbeknownst to the two of you, Joe was on the other side of the lounge with his own drug of choice. You didn’t seem to notice him until his name was being shouted out.

Kylie looks over her shoulder and sees him. “Sky…”

You look around her and there he is, sitting with one leg propped on the other, LSU snapback backwards on his head and a cigar in hand. “He’s so hot, but so not worth it.”

“Since when? You’ve been trying to ask him out all year.”

You shook your head and took a deep breath. “Exactly all year it never worked out because he’s in love with her.”

“Who?”

“Her.”

Looking back over at him, Kylie watches as a girl with waist length braids walks over to him and sits on the couch.

── ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ──

“You asshole, you left me with the Js to get bodied in beer pong.” You pout reaching over for his forgotten cup. “What is this?”

“Don’t laugh.”

Like a reflex, a smile pushes your cheeks up. “Why would I laugh?”

Rolling his eyes. “Because I know you.”

“Fine I won’t laugh. Now tell me.”

“It’s lemonade with a shot of vodka.”

You finally take a sip of it. “It’s not bad, why would I laugh at that?”

“Because I had to cut open a CapriSun for the lemonade.” His face flushed at the confession and tried to look away.

“You’re so cute.” You smiled and turned his head back towards you.

“Yea, that’s a lot coming from the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.” He takes your drink and sets it on the ground then puts out his cigar.

His eyes meet yours as you unconsciously scratch the back of his head with your fingers. “That’s sweet, but I’m not- JOEY!”

Without warning he lifts you up onto his lap, his arms go around your waist and yours wrap around his neck. You feel your face get hot, “what are you doing?”

“What I should’ve done a long time ago.” Then his hands bring your face to his and kisses you.

You freeze for a moment before melting against his soft lips and inhaling the rich spice from his mouth. His cap is knocked off as your fingers glide through his silky hair. A deep groan is sucked into your mouth and his arms tighten their hold on your body.

You’re on a cloud of pure bliss just the two of you until a few whistles are heard from the ground. He pecks your bruised lips once more before you hide in his neck.

“What took you so long?” Your giggles vibrate into his collar.

“You didn’t give me many signs.” You pushed yourself off his shoulder with enough force to almost end up on the ground, luckily his arms stabilized you.

“Joseph.”

“Hey it’s true, it’s not like you were the jealous girl who pushed people away from me. You tried to set me up with Skylar once.” He defends.

“Yea because I’m a nice person and yall would be cute together.”

“See you didn’t make anything easy for me.” He smirked.

Your eyes rolled so far back you could watch the memories of him with other girls. “I can’t with you.”

“Too bad, I’m not going anywhere.”

“I hate-

He ambushes your lips with a fervent desire that ends up with your teeth clashing as you start laughing. “Is this your way of getting me to stop now?”

“Yup.” And kisses you once more.

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

main masterlist

[peace-for-levi]

{when you need me...}

who would i be if i didn't project my mental health onto 2D characters/reader and not write about it? i see so many fics of reader being worried for nanami while he's out in shibuya and… we all know what happens there.

content warning: detailed descriptions of anxiety, reader refers to themselves as 'wife' (reader thinks they are a bad wife) and the use of 'she'. it's otherwise in the 2nd person perspective. negative self-talk/beliefs. use of pet names. nanami being the bestest husband. i miiiiight have made him OOC and overindulged on how soft i made him BUT ITS OK YOU GOTTA BE A DELULU IN THIS ECONOMY.

+18 discord server

No, you were not going to call him. Absolutely not! Or text him either, for that matter.

The anxiety had been bubbling away all day inside your head like billowing storm clouds. You were grateful work kept you occupied, but once you arrived home, you trudged to your bedroom. You didn't even change out of your work attire.

You knew the source of all this, too.

Nanami came home injured while you were out dealing with another curse of your own. Thankfully, he had dealt with the bleeding himself and got checked out by Shoko. But to see him come so depleted of energy – dark shadows hanging under his eyes like bats, shoulders heavy – left you extremely unsettled. You were already an anxious mess, and now there are talks of a special-grade 'patchwork' curse. Not to mention the two unregistered cursed spirits that Gojo encountered.

What was going on in the world?

Now, he had been called out to the school again. After being badly injured, no less!

What if he was asked to fight the patch-work curse again? Was that curse able to perform Domain Expansions? Your husband never reached that height of jujutsu…

Would he… make it home okay?

You worked a "normal" job, not being employed at as a teacher at the highschool. As a grade one sorcerer, though, you were sometimes called in on particularly difficult and awkward missions. Your figured your problems with anxiety in the past would slowly fizzle away if you quit working at that highschool; after all, they couldn't make you exorcise and hunt down curses as often if you didn't work there. In your naivety, you assumed that'd be the end to your worries. But they only persisted and got worse the longer your husband of four years continued to work there as a teacher.

You couldn't resent him for it, and you knew he found greater fulfillment in being a teacher than adhereing to the laborious life of a salaryman.

But, maybe… your selfish thoughts got the better of you when you wished he could work a more "normal" job like you… If he worked a job where his safety was guaranteed…

How could you say such a thing? What kind of wife says that?!

Your hand collides against your forehead, releasing a (poorly contained) groan. Your teeth continued to chatter.

Now, I'm a bad wife on top of everything else…

Gruesome images flood your mind's eye. It's obsessive, relentless. After all, you have to prepare for the worst to come, right…? That's what you always do.

If you were by his side, would that make you feel any more relieved? Just by seeing him? But like a jolt, any solution you try come up with is met with more disturbing imagery. It was so vivid, it is as if you were there.

All that gore and worry conjured up in your cursed, anxious little head. The redness – so much red – of your imagery. It seeps and spreads along the ground at a terrifying rate, the image of someone – Kento – bleeding out. No one is there to help him.

You are.

You aren't gifted like Shoko, though.

There is no amount of horror – be it from forms of media or the wicked imagination – that can prepare a person for seeing the life ebb from another; the hopelessness, the tearing at the soul that is the departing of the other. As your loved one leaves this earth.

You're anxious, you're spiralling… You just wanted him to be okay. You wanted him to confirm with you he was okay. But you disturb him enough already with your texts and calls during missions.

Of course, in reality, if you hailed for Kento, he'd drop everything to be with you. He always has.

You didn't realize your thumb was hovering above the 'send' button. Through bleary eyes, you can see a hastily constructed text. Loaded with typos and errors. You're hardly able to read it though. Thumbs fidgting, you toss the phone.

You knew, logically, that he would want to help. He always has helped. But god, maybe you wanted to be big girl for once and try deal with it without him? Maybe be a good wife who doesn't send him a barage of texts when she's anxious?

Anxiety is the leak in your boat. You have to find a way to patch that hole or you'll drown.

But how can you when your worries revolve around your husband's safety?

You try cling to the logic that he has never refused you, made you feel stupid or invalidated you. Ever. But why would you cling to logic when the voice of your anxiety echoes through megaphone at you.

Of course, you're a distraction. Of course, you're a nuisance.

You hadn't even done a single chore to help around the house today. Some wife you were…

Kento would tell you that these thoughts you have are ridiculous. But you couldn't help it. You felt like you were holding him back from everything he deserved – you were so blessed to have a husband like him. You counted your lucky stars to be with him, but you ultimately felt like you didn't deserve him.

But Kento wasn't here now. So all you had was your mind to bully you.

The thoughts come as an electrical storm in your brain that, quite honestly, are painful. It's different from a headache and it feels the same as intense sorrow. It's uneven breaths as you claw at your chest, and it feels like you're suffocating; all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. It's sobbing to the point of staining your shirt. The intense images come at you with cursed intent. Like being hooked up to a cattle fence - not enough voltage to kill but sufficient to keep things uncomfortable, paralysed with fear and unmoving. And you couldn't, for the life of you, talk yourself out of the spiral.

It wasn't as if you didn't want Kento to be there. You were just denying yourself of his presence. You thought you were being brave, you thought—

Ping!

You lower your hands from your eyes. You gaze at the phone, blinking owlishy, before picking it up.

You let out a groan. In anxiously twiddling your thumbs by your screen, you had sent the (questionable-looking) text.

You don't even have time to berate yourself, for your ringtone begins to chime.

"[F/n], honey. I don't quite understand your text," he greets. He goes back to doing what he was doing – it sounded like he was tidying something away. "Principal Yaga has us staying behind at the school to–"

He stops.

He immediately stops upon hearing you whimper over the phone.

"Sweetheart?"

You mumble, "I-I– Um, N-Nanami, I–"

What if he loses his patience today? Will this be the straw that breaks the camel's back?

You can hear him shuffling over the phone. "Talk to me, what is it? Are you hurt?"

You don't want him to leave work on your account. Damn, your thumbs! If only it stayed as an unsent draft.

You panicked. "I-I'm fine! I think I just–"

You hear him sigh. "You're a terrible liar… You're not fine." A pause. "I'm coming home."

"No, Kento, please–!"

The call ends there. Your fingers seize up and your phone falls to the bed. Your wrists bash off your head, hitting yourself. Stupid, stupid, stupid…

Ping!

Be safe. I'll be there in fifteen.

Your heart sinks, especially knowing that he'd probably break several road safety laws to get back to you as soon as possible.

Another notification arrives swiftly after that.

I love you. You'll be fine.

The fifteen minutes drag by so slowly. You're still rooted at the side of your bed. Not having changed, started laundry, started making dinner. You shake your head. It's frightful how automatically you chastise yourself for anything and everything. Once you hear the click of the door, you shudder and cower, waiting for him to come into your shared bedroom to berate you.

Your eyes are clamped shut still, even when you feel his calloused thumb rub at your knee.

"Oh, sweetheart…" he says, and when he speaks it's so soft. Soft like he'd holding fine china.

He's careful to not press your boundaries too much, not wanting to hold you tighter. But he doesn't sense any resistance right now. You let him hold you.

He holds you like you are the most precious and loveliest thing in his world.

(You are.)

As if you weren't crying enough already, his touch makes you crumble more.

"What has you so anxious, [F/n]?" he asks, rubbing your arms up and down. He pulls away briefly to ask, "May I sit?"

You nod and he sets himself down. You overwhelmed by his love. You always have been. He always spoils you with his soft, passionate touch and his gentle words. You sniffle and it takes every ounce of self control to not explode into a heaving, babbling mess (more than what you currently were.) You continue to sob into his arms.

"Shhh, shhh. You're alright, you're going to be just fine, sweetheart. But in order to be okay, you're going to have to stop holding your breath like that."

You hadn't even realized. You always had been an open book to him.

Breathe, breathe, breathe…

Your thoughts were so out of control, you were in a terrible cycle of either hyperventilating, or holding your breath. You shake your head, trying to break free. He doesn't let go entirely, but he loosens his grip. His hands hold yours, breathing deeply, as if trying to do it for you. You continue to resist, fighting his hold more as you take agonizing breaths.

"Let me hold you. Let me make things better. Let me stay."

You sob harder, knowing that once again he'll be picking up the pieces. Your pieces.

"What has you so worked up?" he asks, in between practiced, deep breaths.

Before you even have a chance to say anything, he whispers softly against your temple, "I love you. So, please, let me in."

And you let everything out.

He holds you close again once each and every worry comes out. He rocks you slowly back and forth, he plants the odd kiss to your dewy temple. He listens to you intently, taking in everything you say and more. He has heard these worries countless times before, and he listens to them as if these are being revealed to him for the first time. He gently 'shhhh's against your brow when you start to hiccup and unravel more.

As your husband, he wants to be able to promise you his safert; he wants to promise he'll come home in one piece.

But he can't do that. Because he doesn't know how any of this will play out.

So he hugs you, impossibly tighter.

"What can I do to help? Tell me what I can do to make it all okay…"

You want to be a good wife; you don't share the selfish thoughts you have, of wanting him to work at a normal job again. Even when he hated it, even when it left him feeling so drained.

So you say nothing and you let your little lie spread its wings.

You calm down in his arms, holding you until your limbs feel heavy. He continues to soothe you as best as possible. His voice was so achingly gentle, rubbing circles into your hips. It has your heart shattering into pieces.

Mindlessly, you mumble under your breath. "I just want you to be okay…" you admit.

He averts his gaze helplessly, because knows he can't promise you that. He relaxes and lays down on the bed, taking you with him. You undo the top button of his shirt.

He smiles sadly. It's the one thing he can't promise.

And though he'll never let you know, he feels like he fails in this duties as a husband.

But sometimes, he knows he's at least doing something right when he helps calm you down from such a state that you end up dozing off in his arms. He holds you til his arms limp and heavy.

In this blood-stained, fleeting life, he'll walk with you to the ends of this earth.

Even if he must depart early.

taglist: @levi-my-beloved @licuadora-nasir @nelapanela94 @whattheheckmidoriya @poisonpeche @unadulteratedtreecrusade @notgoodforlife @sckerman @theferricfox @happybird16 @jayteacups and idk who else

[dazed-and-confused23]

Can I please request a fic where Dusty the Deathclaw has a close call? Like maybe the Enclave or the Brotherhood of Steel, or raiders, got in a lucky shot on Dusty’s belly. And this DEVASTATES the reader enough to go full John Wick on the person who shot Dusty, even to the point that Cooper is like “Oh Damn”. Cause they hurt the WRONG wasteland baby!

Dear Hearts and Gentle People 17

I had a lot of fun with this one and it gave me an excuse to head down to the Capitol Wasteland. Ignore the janky timelines ❤️

*so sorry that this took a while to get out. Life does a good job of getting in the way sometimes @odditycircus-2002. I hope you enjoy! ❤️*

Masterlist

You aren't a fan of the Capitol Wasteland. The weather is shit, and she and Cooper had been shot at no less than eight times in the two weeks they'd arrived. This pocket of the wasteland felt even more dangerous to be in, especially with the rumor of a slaver group in the area. You and Cooper had agreed to avoid them as best you could, but that still left the rest of the factions the two of you needed to keep an eye out for.

The BOS left the three of you alone for the most part whenever they happened to cross your path, Dusty had even made a friend with the dark skinned lady named Cross. Raiders were raiders, but the problems really started when she and Cooper stumbled across another group. The Enclave.

Even after the destruction of Raven Rock, pockets of the old world faction still remained. The day was coming to an end when laser fire suddenly accosted the trio of wanderers. They dove for the cover of nearby rocks and grab for their own weapons. Dusty roars loud enough that your ears ring and charge ahead, furious milky eyes zeroed in on the men in suits of power armor.

"Fuck. That's the Enclave," Cooper snarls beside you, and you whip around to stare up at him in horror. Out of all the factions that they could have run into, it had to be one of the most dangerous ones. They were righteous zealots who dreamed of wiping the earth clean of all mutated creatures.

This was the one faction that would have the kind of firepower to actually hurt their deadly companion, and you felt fear grip your heart when rapid laser fire fell upon Dusty. The creature snarled and gnashed his teeth, dropping down to his front arms to sprint forward and close the distance between himself and the Elclave member who had the gatling laser.

"Dusty!" You scream and run forward, ducking behind rocks and burnt out cars in your bid to get to the deathclaw. Cooper rubs right behind you, taking pot shots at the line of figures that stand on top of the cliffs above them. One woman screams as a bullet catches her in the leg, and she goes tumbling off the cliff to hit the ground, dead.

The deathclaw rips through the men and woman who don't have powe armor, blood and gore flying in all directions, and painting his golden scales red. You arrive in time to see a man in power armor rip something off his back and onto his shoulder. The weapon glows a terrible blue, and you watch in slow motion as a bolt of electrified plasma flew through the air and struck Dusty in the chest.

The deathclaw goes down with a howl of anguish, rearing back to expose the blackened flesh of his soft underbelly. His scales crack and melt off, and Dusty falls to the side, the ground shaking when his weight meets the earth.

Cooper hears you scream, and the sound rattles him. It's full of pain and fury, rage, and disbelief. He watches you drop your weapon and dash forward, throwing yourself at the man who shot Dusty. You cling to the man, feet finding foothold as your fingers dig into the neck paneling of the suit and rip at the tubing and wires that connect to the helmet.

Steam erupts from the power armor, and the man jerks around, stumbling as half of his suit loses power. You find the latch to the helmet and rip it off, exposing the face of the terrified man who dared try and kill Dusty.

The ghoul shouts your name when the two of you tip over, the power armor useless now that its systems have been compromised. You appear seconds later, wielding your side arm. You shoot the man in the face until the chamber runs dry, shoulders heaving and teeth bared in an animalistic snarl.

With the fight over, with any other remaining Enclave having fled the scene, you turn on your heel and run to Dusty. You drop to your knees beside the whining creature and reach for his massive head, hands gently smoothing over his dangerous horns as you whisper reassurances to your baby.

"Is okay, sweetheart. I'm right here. Can you let momma see?" You coo, and Dusty lifts his head, moving just enough that you can see the awful wound left behind from the tesla cannon. Dusty whuffs and grunts, obvious sounds of pain falling from his maw.

"Cooper, bring me my bag," you order, and the ghoul does so without a word. You dig around until you can find your stash of chems and drag out the med-x and stim-packs you have. You have no idea if these would work, but you had to try.

"I need to see it, Dusty," you murmur, and Dusty shoves his head forward and into your lap, looking for comfort, and you easily give it to him. You hold his head close to your chest, and the beast breaths in your scents deeply, his milky eyes closing as he begins to calm down.

You look at Cooper, and the ghoul sighs, but he takes the medical supplies from you. He goes about moving around the deathclaw until he can see the burn. The med-x goes first, and then he injects four stim-packs around the wound.

The chems seem to work, for it isn't long before the deathclaw relaxes, his body sagging forward, and you grunt as you take his weight. His breathing evened out, and Cooper watched in muted fascination as the wound began to knit back together. He sighs and plops down in the dirt beside you.

You lean into him, and Cooper wraps his arm around your waist as best he can, kissing the side of your head. Silent tears stream down your face as relief sweeps through your body.

"He'll be alright, smoothskin. Dusty's tougher than he looks."

[luniarix]

sexting toji while he was at work was only supposed to be a small petty thing— so you didn’t expect him to come back home immediately after.

CW; fem!reader, sexting, edging, sex toy usage, pussy eating, oral!sex, 69, ass slapping, y/n being a tease, toji being a cocky bastard, spitting (on the pus), gagging, names such as; baby, and angel

letting toji sway you into having him give you a palette of hickeys from your neck leading down to your thighs as he bites softly on the soft skin, leaving a burning desire everywhere he kissed, all before he went to work—was the worst mistake you made.

you were currently suffering from sexual frustration, and it had been a few hours since toji had gone to work for the day. it was even crazier knowing that he had so little time beforehand and managed to have you a marked mess, and then getting ready in less than 10 minutes.

you wanted his fingers buried deep within your pussy, his other hand holding and squeezing your thigh, and his face pressed against your bud as he’s lapping up your juices and swirling his tongue around the clit.

your nipples became hard at the thought of what you’d do with him when he came home, and you had decided that you were fed up with just wanting to wait for him like an obedient dog. going under the bed, you find the shoe box that was filled with the sex toys you two use sometimes and take out the kitty smart wand vibrator, along with the clear dildo.

you pull off your booty shorts all the way down until they’ve reached your ankles, pull up your oversized t-shirt (that you stole from toji) above your round tits and begin to massage your clit. you moan softly, and then place the kitty vibrator on your cunt. pressing the on button, your toes curl and head tilts upwards as the wave of pleasure immediately hits you.

you flick the button to a higher speed, hand going to your sensitive nipple and pulling on it. you put a little more pressure on your dripping pussy, biting your lip and closing your eyes shut. you imagined toji being the one pressing the vibrator against you, his teeth pulling and sucking on your tits, making sure to always create marks in the shape of his initial.

he’d have his bangs messily clinging to his face, but you would always be able to see that lustful look in his eyes as he watched you come undone attentively, so abundantly clear. the thought of him manhandling you with the added on twist that was building inside your stomach, had you beginning to break. your body falls onto the plush pillows behind you as your back arches, hips trembling and thighs shaking as you reach your high.

your lashes flutter back open as a grand idea comes to mind. grabbing your phone from the counter beside your bed, you place a pillow in front of you and position your phone so your whole body was in view. the wicked idea that you were going to play out had made your folds become wetter than before, and you lick your lips in an impatient manner.

you toss the vibrator to the side, and grab the transparent dildo right beside you. you begin to record yourself; kissing the tip of the cock, slowly beginning to inch it’s way through your thick lips before enveloping the whole thing in your throat.

swirling your tongue around the shaft and then pulling it back out to leave only tip in your lips, had even your own mind spinning. the dildo was now coated with your saliva, and the slick in between your thighs was too much at this point.

you look straight at the camera and begin to play with your clit using your middle finger, drawing slow rough circles on it. but that was only for a few seconds before the arousal had taken over you— you wanted to cum again. not even, it was a need with the way you were absolutely throbbing.

god, since when have you been this riled up with just masturbating?

maybe it was the fact that you were going to watch yourself reach your climax, or maybe it was the fact that with every nip at the skin toji took, he left a feral feeling at its wake. you press the tip of the dildo against your hole, propping one of your legs up and slide your back against the pillows once more.

“toji…”

you whisper his name like it was almost wrong, the word trembling at the tip of your lips— hand involuntarily twitches in a way that forces past the tip into you. your chest heaves, pretty tits circling and tongue lolling out in pleasurable surprise. it was pathetic considering that toji would fuck this dildo into you at a rougher pace.. but this time it was different.

this feeling? it had everything to do with your senses being heightened, and it was exactly because of him. you choke on your spit, mewling at the slow pace you were forcing yourself to go at. you would make sure you captured every moment before cumming. toji was at fault for making you like this, so he’d be the one to see how much you could cum without him.

your calm breaths couldn’t hide the twitch of your thighs; you wanted more than what you were already getting. picking up the pace, your free arm snakes around your leg to make sure it didn’t close. and so you were able to show everything. now taking in every inch of the toy, your hips salaciously begin to rock at the same speed of your hand.

soft moans fell out of your mouth as your speed becomes faster, toes curling and face distorting into the same one you always have when you’re at your limit. you pull the toy out slowly as you tighten around it, the lewd squelching noises makes your eyes roll back as you pull the toy out all the way, your cum coating the dildo and the rest of the cream slowly dripping down your cunt.

you bite your lip and look back up to the camera, and grin devilishly. then you end the video, and quickly send it to him without any more context. you keep the messages open as a means to watch when he sees it, and in a few minutes he does.

you quickly shut your phone off and toss it onto the bed— a reaction from the anxiousness coursing through your veins. you then get a notification, and quickly snatch your phone back to see the words,

‘don’t test me, y/n.’

you grin wildly and think for a moment before writing in return,

‘test you? i would never.’

your eyes widen when he immediately texts back.

‘i warned you.’

your breath hitches as the same heat you felt when toji was getting dangerously close to your clothed pussy, pulses through your body and directly down to your cunt. he was definitely going to punish you when he came back from work, and there was still a few hours left for his shift so you’d have enough time to prepare yourself.

‘are you all riled up cause i got you hard at work baby?’

you gingerly walk into the living room after sending one last text message that you knew would send him over the edge. glancing at the conversation one last time, you see that he’s left you on read. you smile, knowing you succeeded in annoying him. you then decide to put on a show as a means to pass time, leaning back and placing a hand lazily on your stomach.

but you didn’t expect the door to begin rattling 30 minutes later.

slowly gazing down to the moving doorknob, a long shiver of horror had gone completely down your spine. you begin to chew on your lip, whipping your head back to turn off the tv. you slouch completely down on the couch to hide yourself, but you knew soon enough you’d be fucked. quite literally.

the door swings open, and you hear strong footsteps come into earshot, a bag being swung over onto the couch, right beside you.

you look up and see toji staring down at you with those piercing emerald eyes. his eyes crease when he begins to slowly smirk, and you swallow harshly.

“missed me?”

he never breaks eye contact with you as he walks around the couch to your side, taking long leisurely strides. he’s undoing his tie as you start backing away from him— and you know all too well that’s it’s useless to do so.

toji is quick to drag you back towards him by the ankles, the plush of your ass roughly hitting his thighs as he keeps your legs locked against his chest with just one of his big beefy arms. you gulp, eyes scanning his face but since the curtains had practically always had your house dark, you could barely see the expression he had on.

but you knew for certain that he was beaming with arrogance.

he had you practically in a trap, one that you wouldn’t of been able to escape the second he opened the door. besides the alarms going off in your head— how the hell did he get home so soon?

toji tilts his head at the fact that you haven’t said anything, pulling your legs up even more and the globe of your ass hits right against his crotch, lower back being lifted off the couch. you could tell how hard he was. the tent was practically poking your clothed pussy. you swallow nervously at the thought of what was soon to come.

“i was in a meeting when you sent me that video. do you know how annoyed i was having to sit there in front of other important business men with a boner?”

your lips twitch upwards for a second, but your attitude immediately falters when toji begins to unbutton his shirt and slinks it off of himself. he throws it towards a corner in the dark room, and huffs.

“after you pulled that shit, i had to immediately excuse myself, and took an early leave…”

he subtly begins rubbing circles on the sides of your thighs, inching upwards to your hips. his laggard movements and tone were in contrast with the way his sharp jade eyes were observing you.

“you wanna explain to me why you sent that video to me knowing i was at work?”

he sounded so exasperated, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. now he knew what you had to go through up until half an hour ago. you help yourself up onto your elbows, and stare back at him with a displeased expression.

“you started it. i was just finishing it.”

toji begins to pull your shorts down, and is quick to yank them off of you without you even being able to process it. your eyes widen as you let out a squeak of surprise.

“finishing it? oh, no baby… you’ve only started something else.”

he begins to slip your shirt up,right above your tits. he licks his lips and sinks down to your chest, closing his mouth around one of your hard nipples. you moan softly at the way he swirls his tongue around the areola, before he then sucks on it. he brings his hand up to begin pinching at the other one, and your eyes flutter shut.

you try to start rocking your hips against his crotch, but with the way he had you lifted up right against him you couldn’t. you whine in desperation, frustrated at the fact that he had you locked in place. your head tilts back as he starts to pull on the swollen pebble, continuously swirling his tongue around it and ever so often pinching the other one in between his fingers.

your lips part to let out a quivering sigh, and that gave him enough access to shove two fingers in. you almost gag but then immediately close your lips around them, swirling your tongue. but as a retort you bite down, making sure you’d leave teeth marks. he growls and bites above your areola, teeth sinking in enough to cause pain. he immediately soothes over it with his tongue, a soft whine releasing from your throat.

“you’re very feisty today… but that’s okay.”

toji mumbles, quickly getting up and proceeding to unbuckle his belt. his movements were so languid your cunt began to pulse with painful need. he slowly zips down his pants and lowers them along with his boxers, his fat cock softly slapping against his stomach. an audible swallow comes from your throat and a chuckle is heard from him.

he pulls away from you, proceeding to step out of his pants and kicking them somewhere else in the room. he never breaks his gaze from you as he leans back down and slips off your panties and again— tosses them somewhere else in the living room.

your eyes go wide when he spreads your legs and finally looks down, his eyes going from your heaving chest to your wet cunt. you try and press your thighs together, but toji’s swift to push your legs upwards. toji begins to leave wet kisses down your slit, languidly flicking his tongue against your hole and then tracing up towards your clit.

your toes curl as he begins to unhurriedly kiss your clit and give a few tedious licks. your breathing gets heavier when you notice that he’s taking his time on purpose, and you try to buck your hips up. but he holds you tightly, and through the pecks he was leaving you could tell he was smirking.

“toji… please—”

he cuts you off by abruptly slapping your ass and keeps his hand there to feel the recoil. your eyes tightly close momentarily and you bite your lip to keep yourself from squealing.

“you don’t get to beg after what you pulled.”

you push your head back into the couch cushions as he begins to greedily suck on your sensitive bud, messily devouring your juices like a starved man. you whimper when his head draws back, but then you shriek in surprise when he spits on your clit. toji shoves two fingers into you, and your thighs jerk from the sudden feeling.

your jaw slacks as your moans get louder, and you’re writhing your hips sensuously to get more friction. toji was eating you out so sloppily, the wet slurping sounds had your eyes crossing to the back of your head while you continue to mewl desperately.

his fingers curled inside of you deliciously and your walls clenched around him. the hungry need to cum was inching closer. you were getting impatient. you try and push your hips closer but toji acknowledges it and begins to slow down the pace he’s going at with his tongue. you didn’t have time to get frustrated because then his fingers speed up, which has your back arching off of the couch.

you try your best to silence your muffled screams that we’re getting much harder to control— but with the way toji is continuously thrusting his fingers into you it seems like you won’t be able to hold on for much longer. a cry begins to form in your throat as you knew you were about to cum but it instantly dies down when toji hastily pulls his digits out.

you lift your head up to look at him in dissatisfaction, but he only gives you a satisfied chuckle in response. he was clearly content at the fact that he was starting to piss you off. your irritation soon spikes when toji sits down on the couch right next to you, and leans on the arm rest.

“hurry up and come here.”

you flutter your lashes at him in confusion before it hits you. he wanted to 69. you sheepishly sit and then back up towards him, having toji pull you by the waist so your dripping cunt is directly on top of him and you’re face to face with his cock. you take hold of his dick, rubbing circles on his tip before peppering kisses on it down to the base of the shaft. you twitch when you feel toji’s tongue back on your clit, and try to focus on tracing his veins with your tongue.

you feel him softly groan against your pussy, which has your hips pushing back into his face. you whine when he slaps your ass again, and he roughly sucks on your clit in response. you eagerly take his tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around him before beginning to bob your head.

you take a few more inches of him, toes curling as you gag at how he had already hit the back of your throat. you messily bounce your head as drool begins to run down your chin and rub all over your thick lips, loving the way his fat cock was pulsing. you knew he was close because he always came faster when you’d do this. your jaw ached and your mouth felt numb but it didn’t matter with the way his moans were getting louder, and the way his tongue and fingers were working together in perfect rhythm.

your eyes roll back when he gives one last suck on your clit, and your high pitched whimpers had toji’s mind clouding. you try and take all of him, gagging once more. toji loved it when you gagged around him, his ego swelled every time, but he also cums faster like that too. so when he’s bucking his hips up when you pull your head up till his tip and then immediately having all of his cock in your mouth once more; it doesn’t come as much of a shock.

your eyes close shut as toji’s cum leaks out of your lips, and drips onto your tits and his pelvis. you wait for him to finish before gradually taking him out of your mouth. you swallow his cum and turn your head back to him with glassy eyes. he’s gazing at you with a serene expression before sitting up, and you follow after.

“you did so well angel.”

toji turns back at you and brings your head closer to give you a soft kiss on the lips. he then pulls away, and a shit eating grin forms on his face. your brows furrowed in suspicion as his eyes gleam with mischief.

“but damn, i gotta leave you sexually frustrated more often.”

[alphacentaurinebula]

I need to talk about the Edinburgh minisode, because I have SO. MANY. THOUGHTS.

It's sort of an afterthought minisode in some ways. Before the Beginning gives us so much giddy joy (despite the ominous foreshadowing). 1941 gives us all the giddy romance. Job gives us so much insight into both characters histories and how they came to be who they are and work together...

The Resurrectionists gives us a morality play, basically, but also gives us Crowley high (and HIGH) on laudanum and plenty of bright shiny bits...

...so the morality side maybe doesn't get as much focus.

Which is a shame. Because the Edinburgh episode demonstrates perfectly the flaw in Aziraphale's understanding of the world that leads to him going to heaven.

When we start out in 1827, we are introduced to grave robbing and Aziraphale immediately decides that it is Bad (a sin). He does all he can to prevent the young woman he meets and likes from doing Bad (sinning), assumably to try to pave her way into Heaven. And Crowley tries to help her with her grave robbing, much to Aziraphale's chagrin.

Grave Robbing = Bad; Crowley supports Grave Robbing; Crowley=Bad

When they meet Mr Surgeon, and Crowley starts to ask some pointed questions meant to poke holes in Aziraphale's certainty, he flips entirely the other way, without noticing any of the other moral greyness (like the fact that Mr Surgeon would never take the risks or do the dirty work himself. Which is pretty important, since we learn in Edinburgh in the present that Mr Surgeon was so convinced of his own superiority and importance later on in his life that he started murdering people (probably "unfortunates" like Elspeth) when he couldn't get corpses fast enough).

Grave Robbing = Good; Crowley supports Grave Robbing; Crowley = Good

When he is then confronted with the idea of selling Wee Morag's body, and Crowley points out it is different when it's someone you know, Aziraphale is basically frozen in indecision. He doesn't know what the good thing is anymore.

He spouts the party line about the fact that starting off poor somehow gives Elspeth an advantage when it comes to Heaven, but is unable to explain why or how, not even to himself. And when he's put on the spot as Elspeth tries to kill herself, he doesn't have any arguments to offer.

CROWLEY: Say something! That... convinces her that poverty is ineffably wonderful and that life is worth living. Go on!

But despite all the moral ambiguity present throughout the episode, Aziraphale still sees everything as black and white. First, grave robbing is bad, then it is good. First, Crowley is bad (when he has the opposite position to Aziraphale), then he is good (when he has the same position). Aziraphale never understands Crowley's constant questions are a challenge to the very idea that there IS a 'good' in this situation. He never examines or questions the complex systems of class and sexism and capitalism which force Elspeth to this desperate recourse, or the laws which prevent Mr Surgeon from accessing bodies for research via legal means.

He doesn't see the systemic injustic. He just sees individual moral actors making either good or bad choices.

(and just to deviate slightly from the Edinburgh minisode -- while he says he understands that sometimes things are not just black or white but also grey, in 1941 - I don't actually think his grey and Crowley's grey mean the same thing. The 'greyest' thing that Aziraphale does in 1941 is help a showgirls theatre and hide information from Hell - this is not the same thing as truly seeing that some situations simply don't have a Right Thing to do, or understanding that systems shape and control individuals' decisions, so the idea that humans all have the same ability to choose Right is an illusion.

AZIRAPHALE: You know, they cannot be truly holy unless they also get the opportunity to be wicked.

So it is no wonder at all that when the Metatron offers him the opportunity to run Heaven, he doesn't see a broken institution or systemic oppression/injustice, but rather a series of bad actors preventing Heaven from achieving the Goodness it is meant to represent.

[allu-viia]

DEAR TO ME ,,

𝑲𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒔 x gn!reader Rating: T Type: Fluff, little angst in the middle (minimum) Word count: 2.4k [ See bottom for A/N and notes ]

Prologue: Drunkards are often left at Kuras' door, and so were you.

It was a normal night really, you had come back from your daily errands, tried to discover more of the Senobium as well as your curse and retired to the Wet Wick for a nice drink before your rightfully earned rest.

So how did you end up like this? Seriously, how? At the door of Kuras' clinic, probably drunk out of your mind. Hell, that one drink must've turned in 4 or 5 more, Leander knew how to be persuasive. How did the doctor even come to mind? Were you hoping for a remedy to sober up? A quieter place to rest? You blinked, your mind blank. Amongst the fog caused by the alcohol, coherent thoughts were still present.

"I'm just gonna piss him off aren't I" you said to yourself, staring at the wooden door before dragging your gaze at each of your sides. Maybe it was still too early in the night to start seeing passed out drunkards outside his clinic, but you didn't mind, at all. It was actually better for you. "What am I even doing here..." you grimaced, gently slapping your cheeks to gather your thoughts.

"Why am I even thinking so hard about this? If I'm bothering him he'll just send me away, it's not like he's not capable of doing that." Indeed, why were you worrying so hard about a man you met a few weeks ago...or did you knew him for longer? Time flew. Despite that, you got close to the doctor in question, your relationship developing and forming something that was more than a normal acquaintance. You had a bond with him, a bond you cherished.

"Screw this." you looked up at the door, raising one arm and ready to knock. As your knuckles made contact with the wood you heard a clicking sound and the door opened, as on cue. Your eyes snapped up, meeting his own. There he was, Doctor Kuras, in all his mysterious elegance, looking down at you with a placid expression. "Y/n" he called, acknowledging your presence at the ungodly hour. "Kurasss" you responded, dragging the 's' in a long slur "you, surprised me" your raised arm fell to your side again. "So did you" his eyes narrowed, a small smile crept on his face. "How did you...uhm, figure out I was out here?" — "I heard mumbling and couldn't concentrate properly on my reading, so I investigated".

Fuck, you did bother him afterall. "I apologize, I didn't really think this through-" — "You're drunk" he interrupted you, his brows furrowed. "No?" you swayed, your hand flying up gripping the wall to stabilize yourself. "No?" he repeated, his eyes closing. "No" — "Y/n." his voice firm. You weren't doing a great job at keeping the conversation light-hearted, was he mad? Bothered? "Come inside" he held the door open for you. You stared forward, your body had gotten comfortable standing where it was, and Kuras picked up on that. Walking beside you, he placed a hand on your lower back and gave you the slight push you needed to unfreeze from your position. Then you followed him inside.

"You can sit on the bed" he stated, walking over his doctor stuff, you knew the specific name, but couldn't bother to remember it at the moment. You took a seat on the firm bed, looking at your lap, waiting and thinking, again, why you were there. The furniture around brought you back at the start of this insane journey.

"...Y/n? Have this" his silky voice reached you, godness... sometimes you thought that the same voice was enough to put you to sleep. "Thanks" you smiled as you brought the small cup to your nose. "Smells like liquor" ...was Kuras trying to worsen your drunken state? Was he even capable of that? You earned an almost full smile from the tall man. "Does it?" his eyes squinted in a fox-like stare. You shrugged and downed the drink.

"FUCK" you cursed before coughing, a few strangled noises came out of you as you wiped your mouth on your sleeve. "Bitter, bitter, bitter" you coughed. Kuras still had that smile plastered on his face, the now empty cup in his hands. "Your reaction is completely understandable, most people react that way" he blinked slowly, admiring your response. "But it worked regardless of the unpleasant taste" he added walking towards his counter to put down the cup and to tide up a few small vials. "What even was that?" you briefly stuck your tongue out, the bitter taste lingering. "Felwort" — "..." sensing your confusion he explained further: "A flower, more specifically a plant." His head turned to the side to look at you. "I don't feel less drunk" — "It wasn't to sober you up, it was to make you react" — "So you turned me from a tired drunk to a fiesty drunk?" You heard an irregular breath coming out of him, similar to a snort, a very quiet one. "If you want to put it that way, go ahead”. You shook your head and blinked a few times, your sight was still blurred and you felt tipsy as hell, but Kuras was right, you weren't on the brim of passing out anymore... you wouldn't have minded going to sleep tho.

"You're always helping me..." your voice was a whisper in the quiet room, still, Kuras heard you perfectly. He turned around, glasses in hand. "It's my job as a doctor, I told y-" — "That's not what I meant." you met his eyes.

"You're always here for me, you were here when I first arrived in Eridia...you saved me, you were and still are here when I need guidance, you even are here when I don't wanna eat my meals alone" you rubbed your forehead, your head hurt, and you weren't even hungover at that moment. Kuras stayed silent, a pensive gaze veiling his expression. "I'm just constantly wondering how you haven't betrayed me yet" as your eyes trailed to the ground, your face scrunched up in an angry expression. It hurt. Drunk words are sober thoughts. You were scared, scared like crazy.

You couldn't afford to find comfort in anything, as you were used to having that thing taken away by those who you dared to trust.

"Please don't betray me, please be always here," you mumbled to yourself, your eyes glossing. The three stages of a drunk person: tired, aware, and sad... it was almost funny, you would've laughed at the situation if you weren't the person dealing with it.

Kuras' footsteps were light as a feather, silent, elegant like him. He stood in front of you, leaving his glasses at your side on the bed. You didn't look up, and when the taller man understood that, his hand gently tilted your chin up and made you look at eachother. At the sight of his expression, your eyes slowly opened wide.

Brows furrowed, lips slightly parted, that one single expression held so much sorrow that you felt your heart squeeze in your chest. His eyes boring into yours, eyes filled with delicate worry. You didn't care if Kuras himself didn't care about you in reality or that maybe all of his actions were a made-up act. He was worried about you at that moment, and that was enough. You wanted to live the moment. Maybe he just pitied you, but you were craving so much comfort that you would've accepted any form of it. Even if that comfort was just eye contact. Especially if it was from him.

His golden eyes scanned your face, his hand slid up and rested on your cheek, thumb wiping a tear in the most gentle way possible. His lips slowly twisted in a smile.

"I won't betray you y/n" he said. "You're dear to me, so very dear"

You stared at him, dazed. Did he mean it? You felt your face grow warmer, but not enough to make it noticeable. Fucking doctor. Fucking charming doctor. In your drunken tiredness you ended up resting your head against Kuras' chest, in a half-hug. One of his hands still on your cheek, the other gently stroking your back to calm down your silent sobs. He waited for you. He always waited for you. And you loved that, you almost didn't believe it.

Half an hour later, there you were. Again... How did you end up like this? On one of the clinic's couches, curled up under your own cloak (gifted by the doctor himself), half asleep with your head resting on Kuras' lap. The same man caressing your hair in slow motions, waiting for you to fall asleep in his care. He promised you that it was fine, he would've never suggested it if he didn't want to do it. "I think it will make you feel better, don't you agree?" he had said.

Cheeky doctor. You opened your eyes lazily, your head twisting to be able to see his face. He was already watching you, a small smile adorning his features. He smiled often with you. Maybe you were funny to him. "Kuras..." you wanted to thank him, to tell him his eyes were the best thing to look at, that you would've spent hours around him, that he was insanely charming, and that you never wanted to see a trace of worry on his face ever again... drunk thoughts, huh? But everything trailed off, your voice overcome by tiredness. He chuckled, clearly this time. "Goodnight y/n" he caressed your forehead. "Night" you responded, and let yourself slip into sleep.

...

Morning. Sun. Brightness. Noise. Pain, a lot of it. You groaned, loudly. Your head was killing you. And so was your stomach, it felt like burning. Figures... you thought. You knew you drank last night. You knew that you saw Leander and Kuras at a certain point, and you knew about an extremely, disgustingly, bitter drink you had.

You rolled on whatever surface you were on, shielding your eyes from the light as you waited to decently regain consciousness. You were in your room, in your bed. You could hear the usual ruckus on the ground floor of the Wet Wick. At least you weren't in some weird alley.

"Some cold water will help" you said to yourself as you padded towards the bathroom. You took a good look at yourself in the mirror, you didn't look as bad as you felt. That was good. Your bandages came slightly loose, you frowned. You needed to change them anyway... You took the cloths off your arms, trying not to pay attention at their appearance, one you still haven't gotten used to. You cupped your hands together and filled them with water, looking at it rippling your golden scars. Then you washed your face until satisfied, small droplets running down and between the curves of your face. You went on like usual, washing, dressing, bandaging your arms, tidying up the bedroom as best as you could, and heading down to the counter for a short breakfast.

"Look at you my friend! Goodmorning" you heard a familiar shout, Leander. "Hey" you offered him a tired smile. "How are you feeling?" — "Everything spins, what did you make me drink yesterday night?" — "Ah— heh... I don't remember either, lost track of my own drinks as well" an embarassed blush rose on his face. "You're awful" you both laughed at your statement. "You don't seem to be doing bad tho" you took notice of his unusual clearness, he was supposed to be as hungover as you were. "That's because I have my own hangover remedy, it's a simple drink really" — "Should I trust you?" you raised an eyebrow. "No, you shouldn't."

He stared directly in your eyes.

"But!" he clapped his hands, startling you. "You've got my word on this one, I'll give you just my —most genuine— hangover drink" he winked before getting to work. Leander was a funny guy. Always so weirdly cheerful. You trusted him, even if his jokes about the fact that you shouldn't were extremely numerous. After a few minutes a cup slid in front of your hands, steam came out of it. "Here, tell me if you like it" the mage sat in front of you, behind the counter. You took the glass, and brought it to your nose. "Smells like honey" you took a sip and stuck your tongue out. "It's bitter". Leander's eyes widened "Oh I'm sorry, have some sugar". And then the two of you fell quiet as you drank the 'magic liquid'.

"You know... you scared me yesterday night" Leander rubbed his neck. "Huh? Why?" — "I was cleaning the counter and managed to sober up enough to help out serving. Kuras suddenly arrived with you, completely knocked out, in his arms. I thought the worse, maybe a soulless attacked you."

What?

"Wait, Kuras... in his arms?" your eyes widened and your muscles tensed. "Yeah, he explained me the situation and asked me where your room was, 'suppose he tucked you in"

So, that's what happened. Your face heated up, your cheeks and ears turning red. Not only from embarrassment. "Oh heavens..." you covered your face, Leander laughed out loud. "Cheer up! The doctor did us both a favour, don't know what I would've done if one of my guest suddenly disappeared" He patted your shoulder. "I have work to do now, but I'll see you later y/n!”. And just like that he was gone, a few bloodhounds on his tail.

Kuras. Kuras carried you back to bed, where did he even find you? Your mind raced as you stepped back to your room, if the alcohol was no longer torturing your head then your thoughts were. When you opened the door, you noticed something that you missed before, a small note on your bedside table. You skipped towards it, curious, you recognised the handwriting…doctor handwriting. You read the note with attention.

"Feel better soon." signed Kuras. Cheeky doctor.

You decided to keep the note, it made you smile, a lot. You never thought that you'd have ended up drunk in Kuras' care. Never. Leander? Sure, it always happened. Ais? Meh could happen. But Kuras wasn't an option, up until yesterday. "...that doctor" you bit your lip, trying to suppress a stupid smile. You made a mental note to thank him next time the two of you would've met, maybe even buy him something. But for now, staring at the note was all you could do.

Little did you know that Kuras didn't leave you wthout a parting gift, one last stroke to your cheek and a tender kiss on the forehead. He liked you more than you thought.

A/N: Uploading this fanfiction took years off my life. English is not my first language, so I'm sorry if there are some errors I didn't notice! Thanks for reading, your attention is immensely appreciated ❤️

Notes: Felwort or Gentian root is an herb native to Europe. The health benefits of gentian root include improved digestion, appetite, blood sugar, and other benefits. It's extremely bitter. Also this fanfiction was created by basing myself on Kuras' new expression!

⎼ Alluviia

Dividers by @cafekitsune

⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣

[bloodyinkandquill]

Darkheart x Reader

the only thing keeping me awake is the promise of dinner, i am so tired right now you guys don’t understand, help

- To others, a smile that wicked and that consistent was terrifying, off putting, creepy, or whatever else negative thoughts about it, to you it meant love and safety

- Darkheart was amazing in your opinion, sure he had quite the handful of quirks but who doesn’t? The refering to himself plurally thing, the almost always smiling thing, the overall starve energy surrounding him, they were all noticeable but you had come to love all of those things, they were distinctly him, and you loved him so dearly

- That feeling was very clearly reciprocated, even if in odd ways he was always showing his love for you too, odd little gifts and trinkets, taking you fishing with him very frequently, and if you liked fishing with him instead of just watching he was ecstatic, you’d sit on the secret little pier for hours at a time watching the waves, chatting about nothing and everything, if you leaned your head on him he’d wrap his wing around you in a mock hold since his hands were full with his fishing rod

- I feel like he’d have one specific pet name for you that he’d call you all the time, likely my beauty, handsome, pretty girl/boy/thing, or maybe my abyss, any of those type names he says with his sly voice but it sends tingles up your spine in a good way, especially if he suddenly is behind you and in his, honestly very attractive, voice says hello to you with a hand appearing on your shoulder, makes you shiver but in a good way

- For dates Darkheart would prefer stay at home dates, even if they’re not super fancy ordering some take out, putting on a movie, and snuggling up to each other on the couch, he loves to hold you close, adoring how small you were compared to him

- With the height difference, if he saw you wearing his clothes he’d instantly be behind you hugging you from behind saying how good you look in his clothes, you convince him to get more clothes however because the few he does have get washed very rarely… but we don’t need to talk a bout that you fixed it

- Sometimes it was lonely when he would have to leave, you understood he was a deity, he had obligations to attend to, but you did wish you’d get more of a heads up sometimes, you’d occasionally just wake up to an empty bed and a deep longing, whenever he returned though, especially from longer times, he’d shower your face in kisses telling you how much he missed you and he apologizes for leaving so abruptly, so while not ideal it did make up for the random lonely times

- Despite demons not needing to sleep and the swords definitely not needing to sleep Darkheart enjoyed doing so with you, holding you tightly in your netted bed watching over you till you fell asleep before joining you in the realm of sleep, only downside is he could only sleep on one side due to his wing, it was just too much of a hassle to sleep on the side it was on, you’re also not exactly sure how he flys with it but he can so you just don’t question it, he has taken you flying before though, soaring above the city the lights bright but oh so far away, it was exhilarating

hope you enjoyed! had fun with writing it since i self ship with darkheart the most of any of the deities:]

[michelle-is-writing]

Help, John Wick

Word Count: 2.8k~

Warnings: mention of gun fire, blood, injury, stitches

Working the evening shift sometimes proves to be a hassle, especially when I’m needed past midnight. On nights like these, I know as soon as I leave the hospital doors that I’m all alone in my somewhat safe city. The biggest issue in my city is the constant hidden dangers within it, as reported by the news many times. The attacks are always random, and the people are disguised, meaning no one can tell who is truly good or bad.

With the clock nearing 12:05, I’m finally able to clock out and head out of my hospital and to my car. On the way to my vehicle, I notice something weird about my driver side’s tires; they seem to be flat, but one has a knife stuck in it.

“What the…” my voice trails off as I look around my hospital’s parking lot, seeing maybe three or four other cars scattered throughout it. I’m already in a not-so-safe situation, and quite frankly, walking out alone late at night is not the best decision for someone like me to make.

Instead of risking my safety, I begin walking backwards to go back into the hospital before turning around, only to be knocked down on the ground by someone running into me from my left. As I fall with the person who rammed into me, my ears pick up distinct gunshots - something you hope to never hear when you’re leaving work late at night.

“Stay down!” A deep, gruff voice yells before the weight of the body on top of me is suddenly gone, and more gunshots ring out around me. Despite the pain from being slammed down, I still manage to shuffle away and get behind the bushes next to the pavement. It’s not the best cover, but it can at least help me figure out what the hell is going on right now.

Looking through the thick branches of leaves in front of me, I spot two people now revealed by the street lights as they shoot toward the entrance of the hospital. “Why would anyone shoot at a hospital?!” I find myself muttering before I jerk my head over to the doors. There stands a dark-haired man dressed in an all black suit, a pistol in his hands as well. Only two shots are fired from that pistol before all gunshots come to a stop, but before I have any time to process what has just happened, the man is running toward me. I’ve never seen him before, and he certainly doesn’t look like someone who could shoot two people in two clear shots. His face is even cast with concern as he nears the bushes I hide behind, a hand outreached for me.

“We need to go! Now!” He tells me, grabbing my hand before yanking me up from the ground and taking off. With his hand firmly gripping my hand, I’m left with no other choice but to run with him. Feeling my fight-or-flight instincts kick in, I recognize the rush of anxiety flowing through me as well as so much confusion. Why am I running with a man who just shot several men either wounded or dead? He’s obviously trying to help me, but who exactly is he trying to protect me from?

After running across the parking lot to a car parked in the shade, the man yells at me to get in, but as I near the passenger side door, I feel myself halt as time slowly passes around me. My body feels as if it’s stuck in honey, unable to move or do anything, and my mind doesn’t feel much better.

“Get in now!” The man yells one more time, fully snapping me out of my stupor and bringing my attention to the door handle of an older car as I open it before climbing in. Alongside me is the man falling into the driver's side, quickly turning the engine on before speeding out of the parking lot. Speeding lights pass all around me while my eyes fall to my arms and hands, a burning sensation taking over my limbs. My palms and elbows are scratched up from the fall, droplets of blood adorning the scrapes before leading down to the new holes on the knees of my scrub pants, crimson liquid beginning to show through there as well.

In this moment, as my brain now begins to process the oncoming stings and burns, I turn my head toward the man, finding him to be focusing every ounce of his attention on the road in front of us as he speeds way above the limit. “What just happened?” I ask him, my voice almost disturbing him from his focus as he slightly jolts in his seat. “What’s going on?”

He shakes his head, his long hair moving along with him as he seemingly ponders if he should answer my question or not. For a few seconds, he remains quiet before sighing and giving in. “It’s… hard to explain,” he starts, giving me a cautious glance before looking back at the road in front of him as he speeds through traffic. Between taking sharp turns and darting in between cars, I can’t help but grasp the door with all my might to keep me from going all over the place.

“A couple days ago, you treated a patient, a man who came in with a bullet wound directly below his heart,” The man explains, making me stare at him confused. I did have a patient come in with those exact issues, but he told us he was mugged and that’s why he was shot. Why would someone try to attack a mugging victim in the way they did?

“Well, the guy wasn’t exactly mugged, and the people who shot him thought you were helping out him and his… group,” he further adds, making my eyes widen in a mix of horror and confusion. “They didn't even know your name or anything about you and they still tried to put a hit on you, all because you helped him survive. He asked me to make sure nothing happened to you, said you were a sweet girl, and I promised him I would keep you safe,” he nods his head toward the road. “So, here we are.”

Despite his explanation definitely being… weird, I don’t question him any more about it, and instead, I ask him something else. “What’s your name?”

At my question, he gives me a wary glance before answering. “John,” he tells me, gaining a nod back from me.

“John, I think you got shot,” I inform him, my eyes falling to his bloody arm. It looks like the bullet either grazed or went completely through his arm, but nonetheless, it’s still bleeding like a gunshot wound.

John barely reacts, only nodding his head “I know,” he simply explains as if it were something simple and not a bullet wound. “I’ll take you somewhere safe until we know what the group is trying to achieve.”

His words barely register in my ears before I’m turning in my seat to shake my head at him. “No, no, we need to go to my apartment,” I urge him, and just as I expected, he begins to tell me it’s not safe. “But my dogs are there!” I quickly argue back, feeling my heart pound away in my chest.

In an instant, it’s like a flip in his head switches, and he gives me a small nod in response to my words. “Okay,” he simply mutters, “Show me how to get there.”

Arriving at my apartment, John parks the car way down my street before having us run up to my back gate and get in through there. By the looks of it, my apartment seems to be untouched, and after John does a quick run through, I’m able to let out a sigh of relief. I’ve witnessed a lot of crazy things tonight, and the fact that I have a man whom I just met in my house after being shot at is crazy. However, my dogs don’t seem to care about the crazy night I’ve had as they’re too busy trying to get John to pet them. In spite of what I witnessed him do earlier in the midst of gunfire, seeing him act like a complete teddy bear around my dogs practically makes my heart skip a beat.

“Sit down here, John,” I tell him, gesturing to stools by my counter as I wash my hands in the kitchen sink. “So I can stitch up your arm,” I add, drying the water from my hands before gathering the stuff I need from my medicine cabinet. He nods at my words before sitting and waiting patiently, now with my smallest dog in his lap. Beside him are my other dogs, all sitting beside him as if they were all best friends already.

Smiling at the sight, I look up from my dogs to meet his eyes, only to be greeted by his chocolate-like eyes already staring back into mine. However, I quickly look away and begin helping him take his coat off all the while remaining careful about the arm he got shot in. It’s only after I cut the arm of his sleeve off and begin gently cleaning the dried up blood off his arm that John speaks up. “Do you treat all your patients like this?” He asks, a small smile taking over his lips as the question falls from his mouth.

I find myself smiling back at him before moving onto clean the actual wound. “Only special ones,” I tell him, earning a small chuckle back from him despite me pressing gauze with alcohol against the bullet wound on his arm. I choose not to mention it, and instead point out all of my dogs’ sudden fondness for the man. “They really like you,” I point out before examining his wound. The bullet went through the very edge of his arm, avoiding his humerus or anything major. Despite it leaving a decent sized wound, it’s still a pretty easy fix, thankfully.

Telling John he’ll need stitches only gains a hum back from him. Even when I poke the needle through his skin and pull it through, he still fails to react, and instead, John speaks up with the same tone of voice he had earlier. “I love dogs,” John confesses, using his free hand to scratch the wrinkles on my pug’s forehead. “And they’re all so cute too,” he adds, once again, not showing any sign of pain as I finish suturing his arm.

“That’s a good thing, that you love dogs,” I tell him, dressing his arm before taping it. “It shows a lot about someone,” I add, watching as he watches me closely, yet softly. As time goes on, I anticipate his next words, but even now, he still doesn’t mention it.

“I’m sorry we met this way,” John’s apology takes me by surprise, causing me to look away from his arm and stare at him. “I wish this could’ve been under better circumstances,” he adds, a small sigh falling from his lips afterward. “You’re a truly wonderful person; you didn’t deserve to be a target tonight.”

Instead of agreeing with him, I sigh as well before smiling and speaking up. “If it weren’t for you, they would’ve shot me. Over something I haven’t the slightest clue on,” I point out to him, “I know there are things that go on in this city, and I never expected to be in the middle of it, but I am eternally grateful that you were there and able to save me tonight,” Taking his hand in mine, I maintain eye contact with him and squeeze his hand. “You saved my life tonight. Thank you.”

At my words, John smiles back and nods. “No problem, nurse (Y/n),” he tells me, his thumb gently running across the back of my hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll be here to do it again,” he adds, making my smile grow even more as his eyes never leave mine. I don’t doubt the mysterious stranger will hold true to his word, but at the same time, I want to learn more about the man outside of saving me from the city’s dangers.

“And I’ll be here to patch you up again,” I tell him back, giving his hand a quick squeeze before turning to put away all of my medical supplies. “In the meantime,” I start, glancing between him and my kit as my dogs take the opportunity to swarm him. “Would you mind explaining to me a little bit about what exactly goes on in this city?”

John doesn’t respond right away, and instead, he chooses to stand up beside me in spite of the protests from his new furry friends. Putting away the rolled gauze and cotton balls, I look over at him as he appears beside me, only to earn another small smile from him like before. “Too much for one night,” he tells me, placing a gentle hand on my arm as if to stop me from messing with my medical supplies. “For right now, you need to sleep. You’ve had a long day,” he points out. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to make sure you continue to stay safe for the night. Is it alright if I stay here?”

Seeing him gesture toward my living room where all of my dogs sit and eagerly wait for him to join them on the couch makes a small laugh leave my lips. If it weren’t for him saving my life and my dogs being so trusting of him, then I probably wouldn’t be as confident as I am with letting him stay. “Actually, I would prefer that,” I tell him, before nodding at the couch behind him. “Although I don’t think you’ll be alone, unfortunately.”

Just as I say that, all the dogs run over to us and stare up at him, causing John to look down at my dogs with a smile before his expression changes into one of concern. “You need to be bandaged as well,” He tells me, causing me to look down and see my busted up knees once more, reminding me off the dull pain currently shooting from them. “Let me do it,” he further adds before gently pushing me to sit back on the stool just like I had done with him.

“I can handle them, it’s okay,” I tell him with a chuckle. “I’ve handled much worse on myself.”

Despite my words, John doesn’t respond to me, and instead, he opens my med kit back up and begins taking out the same kind of supplies I used on him, all except for the sterilized needle and string thankfully. He doesn’t argue with me on me taking care of myself, but he acts as if I hadn’t said anything to him either.

Strangely, I allow him to take care of my wounds without interrupting him, settling for watching him instead. It’s only when he moves onto rolling my scrub pants above my knees that I find myself regretting my decision. His touch is seemingly nothing more than that of someone who cares, but I can’t help but feel the small degree of intimacy in the moment. I can’t decide if it’s his slightly rough, yet gentle hands grazing my skin or just the close proximity of him on his knees in front of me, but my mind is scrambled right now.

“Told you I’d keep you safe, right?” I hear him say, bringing me out of my stupor and down to him once again. His eyes remain on his task at hand, being careful as ever while cleaning my wounds. Instead of responding, I smile and simply nod back at him, relaxing a little as I do so. He seems to pick up on this, a soft, small smile making its way onto his face as well as he moves onto bandaging the now clean scrapes and cuts.

Once again, I feel his hands touch my skin with gentleness and care, but at the same time, I can’t help but revel in the sensualness of it as well. It doesn’t help that there are times that his touch lingers more than necessary and the smile on his face still has yet to die down. I can’t help but feel bad for the thoughts currently flowing through my mind, but a part of me likes the idea of him staying with me - minus the reason why, of course. Another part of me hopes this isn’t just a one time thing either.

[ohtheewhorer]

Kinktober Day 6: Mutual Masturbation

Perv!70s!Dale Ferdinand “Longlegs” Kobble x Roommate!Mean!Reader

Summary: You catch Dale masturbating and I guess you’ll join or whatever.

Warnings: 18+ smut, m & f masturbation, cum eating, dirty talk, mommy kink

* i do not own image above

Dale clasps a hand over his mouth as his free hand works over his cock. He couldn’t risk being too loud or you’d be very mad. Your rule is that there will be no noise of any kind by 8 pm unless someone’s dying. In other words, you do not appreciate being disrupted from your sleep so Dale’s late night jam sessions were a thing of the past.

He both feared and admired you, finding himself abiding by any rule you’ve probably made up on the spot simply because you were annoyed with him one day. The dark father seems to like the wicked energy you radiate as well, encouraging interactions of which would make you punish Dale.

Like the time the Dark Father told Dale to steal one of your eyeshadow palettes and you retorted by making Dale piss his pants in front of you.

But Dale couldn’t deny that he gets all hot and bothered with any attention you provide him. Most of the time you’re quite dismissive and short with him and he’s fine with this but when you spew mean words at him—oh, it gets him going.

So it’s no surprise that after you’d told him off for leaving the toilet seat up that he found himself rushing to his bedroom to stick his hands down his pants. He doesn’t pleasure himself often, if any at all but when he does it’s hard to control his volume with how sensitive he is.

He whines a little louder this time, heart racing when he hears it bounce around the thin walls. There was no doubt that you heard it. You’d come in at any second now to berate him. He’s sure of it. Realizing that there’s no point in silencing himself, he indulges stroking himself harder and pulling sounds from his own mouth.

You bang on his door but his moans are so loud they swallow the sound so you have no choice but to enter and lay eyes on the eye-boggling scene before you.

“Oh my god, Dale! Seriously?” You yell, throwing your hand over your eyes.

“I’m sorry, little angel. I couldn’t help myself.” He whines, still working his fat cock.

God, why was it so big? Well, you know exactly why. Just look at the size of him entirely, you’re so tiny in comparison. Your thigh clench together at the thought. Oh, and those perfect, large hands of his…mmm. Maybe you can yell at him another time.

You move your hand away from your eyes watching him in the throes of passion; eyes rolling back and his filler pink lips parted to let out wheezy gasps.

You find yourself, caressing your hands down your body and biting your lips. The throbbing need between your legs more prominent than ever before.

“I’m only going to touch myself because I need the relief, not because I’m liking what I see here.” You get on your knees onto the mattress on the ground, pushing your hand under your skirt and pushing your underwear to the side. You gather the slick that pooled heavily in the gusset of your lace panties, bringing it to your clit and rubbing circles in tandem to Dale’s pumping.

Your moans and groans blend into one like a beautiful symphony. The closer you got the sloppier you got with your play, grinding down on your hand and panting as you imagine that it’s his beautiful porcelain-like face between your legs.

“You’re so beautiful,” Dale rasps. “I want you to be my pretty little doll to play with.”

“I’d rather you be my doll,” You counter. “I’d make you wear pretty dresses for me and fuck you silly in them. Let you call me mommy.” You plunge a finger inside yourself, working yourself up with your own words. Now you definitely need to let that happen sometime. “Dale, m’gonna cum.”

“Oh, fuck!” Dale cries out spilling in his hands and little belly. His orgasm, a mix contribution of you igniting his need to be your doll and the way you sobbed his name. He’s spurting thick hot ropes that shoot a great distance onto his mattress from how hard he comes.

You’re not far behind, falling forward to where your right cheek rests against his bed as you rode your hand and gutturally moan. Your juices gush onto your fingers, giving you added lubrication as you continue to thrust.

When you’ve both calm, you take the initiative to stick your honeyed fingers passed his full lips and he immediately accepts them, swirling his tongue carefully around each finger.

You pet his head adoringly, making him choke on your fingers a little. “You’re lucky you’re so pretty because the next time you wake me up from my sleep, I’m going to make sure you cum for me until you’re dry.”

[zukkaoru]

lemon futon AND kunichuu + "THAT's who you were talking about?!" "look at who you're holding hands with!"

nikomushithaniel + "it could have ended differently" "i know."

beast souheki + "why?"

i offer you some silly fun times followed by ✨angst✨

lemon futon & kunichuu

“THAT’S who you were talking about?!” Katai demands, gesturing wildly with one hand. “Kunikida, that’s a Port Mafia executive!”

Chuuya rolls their eyes.

Kunikida bristles. “You’re concerned about me? Look at who you’re holding hands with!” This, he thinks, is a fair argument to make. Because Katai is holding hands with one Kajii Motojirou, the Port Mafia’s notorious lemon bomber, while Chuuya is a well-mannered, polite, individual who just happens to also work for the mafia. There’s a pretty big difference between the two, as far as Kunikida is concerned.

Needless to say, when Katai said he would be introducing his partner to Kunikida, he did not expect to see a familiar face. Definitely not mafia familiar.

“You hate the mafia,” Kunikida points out.

“So do you!”

“Well—”

“As far as I’m concerned,” Chuuya cuts in, “you’re both hypocrites. You two can argue all you want, but if this goes on for too much longer, Kajii and I are going to ditch you and go out ourselves.”

Kajii grins, maniacal and dangerous. Kunikida tenses.

But…he supposes Chuuya gets like that sometimes too. The wild, carefree, laughter. The wicked glint in their eyes. And while it scared Kunikida at first, it’s now one of the endless things about Chuuya that he finds indescribable beauty in.

So maybe he can trust Katai and give Kajii a chance.

-

nikomushithaniel + “it could have ended differently” “i know”

“It could have ended differently,” Mushitarou spits out. It stings, like a knife to the gut; he says it like Nikolai doesn’t care. Like he hasn’t lost hours upon hours of sleep combing through his memories pointing out all of the moments he could have done something—anything—to change the ending.

“I know!” he snaps, hands clenched into fists at his side. Curled so tight his fingernails are drawing blood. He knows, he knows, he knows. They could have stopped Nathaniel, could have talked him out of it. They could have simply escaped with him in tow.

They could have done any number of things, but now—

Now, it’s too late.

It could have ended differently, but they both missed every opportunity to bring about the needed change, and now they’re left alone with the broken pieces. Nathaniel was the blood binding them together, and with him gone…

“Just get out of here,” Mushitarou orders. “I don’t ever want to see you again.”

Nikolai doesn’t argue. He just leaves.

-

beast souheki + “why?”

Ranpo didn’t go to the funeral.

He knew exactly where and when it happened, but the gathering was so small they would have instantly noticed an enemy in their midst. It wasn’t his place to intrude regardless. He never meant that much to Dazai.

Then again, no one did.

He refused to let himself care about anyone. And now he’s gone.

Ranpo sits in the wet grass, back against the headstone, face tilted towards the sky. Two weeks ago, they were in Dazai’s bed, back pressed against the mattress, teeth sinking into his skin. And now—

“Why?” they whisper.

No answer comes. The dead cannot speak. Ranpo knows this all too well.

The dead do nothing but leave you with unanswered questions and ghosts that you cannot shake.

Dazai never even fully removed his bandages when they were together. It meant nothing to him, and Ranpo knows this—has always known this, but—

The one thing he doesn’t know is why Dazai jumped. The one thing Ultra Deduction cannot help him figure out is Dazai’s motivation. Ranpo has tossed and turned for hours, rolling the question through his head in the middle of the night, but they always come up empty.

It doesn’t make sense.

They knew he wanted to die—knew he planned it out, down to the second.

But he would never explain why.

Now, he never will.

[dawn-moths]

Hi I love your blog i was wodering if you could do number 15 with Undertaker,thank you in advance💓🥰

hi! i recognize your url haha, i’d love to do number 15 with undertaker for you 💕

prompt: watching their oblivious s/o lovingly

character: undertaker (kuroshitsuji)

words: 1900+

content warning: reader’s family was killed in an accident and has some survivors guilt, i put a little more “plot” in this than i originally intended so i hope you don’t mind lol, sorry if this is sad.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

The funeral home is bathed in shimmering, golden light as wisps of sunset stream in through the latticed windows, sun dust dancing in the beams that cast a buttery veil over the surface of shiny caskets strewn about the floor and catching in the bright glint of the glass bottles and jars lined up along the shelves.

A few of the candles are already lit, tiny flames flickering as they hover on the end of charred wicks, rivulets of thick wax making their slow descent towards the silver basins they’re perched in below.

You’ve come to love this place— a place that, at one point in time, had filled you with dread, reminded you of your own fragile mortality— as it now brought you peace.

Maybe it was because you’d become so acquainted with death yourself, had felt its lips ghost over yours with a near-fatal kiss when you’d been on the verge of leaving the living world.

You’d been the lucky one, they’d all told you, because you’d survived.

However, the rest of your family— both your parents and your two other siblings— hadn’t been as fortunate when the carriage had crashed over the cliff side, tumbling down the steep hill into the sea of pine below.

You still wondered why you’d survived while they’d all been claimed by whatever was waiting on the other side of life, but at least there had been one saving grace through all that hell.

Because, if you hadn’t had reason to seek out mortuary services all on your own, you would’ve never met him.

“Undertaker” was the only name he’d given you, still refused to tell you anything other than that title whenever you tried to press him, so, even though his insisted mystery at something as simple as a name sometimes irked you, you’d more or less accepted it.

In the beginning, you’d been wary of him, unable to look him in the face and carful to keep your distance.

But as time went on, as you grieved, as you recovered, and, at last, once your family was put to rest six feet under the ground, you’d found you’d warmed up to him.

Because it hadn’t just been the singular occasion of seeking out his business’s services that had pulled you into his orbit, or the inevitable return after the funeral to pay him what was due and thank him for all his hard work and consideration.

Undertaker had seen your pain plain as day from the very second you stepped through those doors and into his grim domain. He’d seen the fear and the loneliness and the mourning. The guilt and regret one often wears when they can’t help but think, if only I hadn’t made this one decision on that particular day, everything would’ve turned out differently.

So he’d comforted you. He’d helped you feel not so alone and, unlike the other more familiar faces that seemed to pop up to surround you at every turn, offering rehearsed condolences that were so sickly sweet they bordered on condescending, bringing an endless array of casseroles and roasts and all kinds of other deep-dished dinners that most nights had just ended up in the trash because you could barely bring yourself to eat in those first few months after your loss…

Unlike all the others who said what they thought you wanted to hear, did what they thought would help you instead of asking what it was you actually needed, Undertaker had treated you like he understood perfectly right from the start.

You figured he knew the intricate, silent language of death and mourning better than anyone, given that his day to day for who knew how many decades had revolved around it. But you’d expected him to be emotionally uninvested and purely professional when you’d first prepared to speak with a funeral director. So it very much caught you off guard when he’d been the complete opposite.

He’d treated you with compassion, patience, and, above all else, respect. He didn’t pity you, and gave no coddling words about how your deceased family was “in a better place now” or calculated coos making promises that you could ask him for “anything you might need, at any time” like the others who’d learned of your loss when you knew they had their own busy lives to jump right back into once they’d filed out of the funeral and the babbling brook of black clothes and tear-streaked cheeks had dispersed.

It made you wonder who he’d lost in his life, though you were never brave enough to ask.

So you’d found yourself returning to him, drawn back into his somber chamber of half-constructed coffins and gleaming silver instruments strewn about. You’d accepted his invitation to stay for tea and biscuits and felt grateful when he just let you talk about what had happened and how you felt, not feeling the need to interject or give you advice on the proper way to grieve.

Undertaker had sat across from you, secretly studying the distinct features of your face and your innate little mannerisms from behind his curtain of silver fringe, the scar cutting across his face just barely peeking through, and listened.

It was less than any of your other friends or family would’ve considered they’d done for you, but that simple gesture meant more than anything back then.

So when he’d offered you a position as his assistant, promising fair wages and adequate training, though you felt some apprehension at such a serious and, as you could imagine, having been on the other side of it, sorrowful task, you’d ultimately agreed without much hesitation.

Because there was something about being around him that had helped— was still helping— to heal you.

It certainly helped that, the more you two had gotten to know each other, the more comfortable he’d gotten about cracking jokes or making humorous little comments here or there.

Undertaker had a strange sense of humor, a dark one for sure, but as time went on you found that so did you.

You’d since lost count of how many times you’d both ended up laughing so hard you were practically wheezing, arms wrapped around your middle as you clutched the stitch in your side, entire body shaking with the kind of carefree joy that only comes from a good, hearty, unexpected laugh.

“Laughter is the best medicine,” he’d once told you, after you’d suddenly burst into tears after enjoying such a jovial moment, reminded how you’d never get to laugh like that with your family ever again. “Even in the darkest of times, just allowing yourself to experience small joys can help cure what ails you, even if only for a moment.”

You remembered his words often, whenever you were missing your lost loved ones. Undertaker had taught you to laugh more often even if for the sole purpose that they couldn’t anymore, and sometimes that fact alone was enough for you to at least smile.

“Because life is for the living,” he’d also taught you. “You must experience the things that they won’t get to and know that they would’ve wanted you to have a full life.”

So now, as you finished cleaning up and organizing everything in the shop for the day, humming a melancholy little tune quietly to yourself as you moved about, Undertaker leaned in the doorway and silently watched you, his silhouette a tall, billowy shadow as his dark robes draped over his svelte form.

His brilliant chartreuse eyes broke through the cracks in that curtain of silver meant to hide them, and he couldn’t help but grin to himself as he thought how lucky he was— after so many years of solitude— to finally have someone who brought real joy to his life.

Even sweeping the concrete floors, the dusty skirts of your dress swaying about your feet in rhythmic, graceful motions, Undertaker found you beautiful, his delicate, earnest little human.

You were careful around the one coffin he’d strictly told you never to open or disturb, doing a half-turned dance to maneuver the currently cramped space with all that littered the floor, but to Undertaker, you appeared as elegant as if you were the belle of a ball, slowly waltzing about the macabre dancehall.

He’d found new purpose in the life-after-his-afterlife in having you learn from him, in teaching you his trade, witnessing you succeed and fail and succeed again.

You were going to make one hell of an undertaker yourself one day, if and when his jig was finally up and he had to flee this place tucked into the darkest, dingiest corner of London.

Sometimes he thought you didn’t belong here only for the fact that, as he’d half flirted, half joked to you on your very first encounter, “Someone so pretty doesn’t belong somewhere so grim.”

Still though, he was glad you’d chosen to stay on your own accord. Glad that you had a reason to return to him every day, allowing him to bask in your presence, the only ray of light amidst his world of shadows and decay.

When you finally turned and looked over, you jolted a bit as Undertaker’s unexpected appearance startled you, and after letting out a gentle yelp and clutching your heart you found yourself smiling at him.

“What are you still doing here?” you asked, abandoning your broom as you migrated closer to where he leaned in the doorway. “I thought you went home already. I told you I’d close up.”

Humming out a lilting, fleeting note, Undertaker carefully reached a pale, slender hand over to brush some stray, flyaway strands of hair that had come loose from your braid throughout the day back behind your ear, delighting in the fact that you still blushed a little at the gesture even after he’d done it so many times by now.

“I got caught up with something in the back,” he informed you, his voice low and tender, nearly a murmur in the stillness of the room. “I thought I’d stay and walk you home. Make sure you got back safely.”

Undertaker was usually at the shop until long after sundown, sometimes so late you swore he must sleep here sometimes, only resting for a couple of hours before morning peeked above the horizon and tolled the bell on a new day, more work always to be done. (The phrase “you can rest when you’re dead” had taken on a slightly different, more morbid meaning now). In fact, you knew he’d often pull all-nighters, though if he had any bags under his eyes to tell of it you didn’t know. That part of him was still mostly a mystery to you, other than the few times you’d caught accidental glances of such iridescent emerald while you two were working in close proximity.

He’d offered to walk you home a few times before, but you’d usually refused, assuring him it wasn’t far and you could always call for a carriage along the way if you wished. He never pressed you or insisted too much, but tonight, perhaps it was because you were catching a glimpse of those unearthly eyes of his again, reading what you could swear was complete devotion in them, you accepted his invitation to escort you back.

The walk was mostly silent, though you took it more for the fact that the two of you had been working tirelessly these past few days than anything else. However, Undertaker used the window of comfortable quiet as yet another opportunity to gaze upon you.

Oh, how he’d miss you terribly when he finally had to go, and it hurt him even more so to know there was a possibility it would be without warning if he was found out before he could catch onto it.

But he’d spent too much time running from the past and trying to predict the future. All he really needed right now was to allow himself to enjoy the present he shared with you.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

from this prompt list. requests are now closed, thank you to everyone who participated 💕

[venus-haze]

Bad Obsession (Mickey Altieri x Reader)

Summary: Summer semester comes and goes without much consequence, or so you think, having inadvertently captured the attention of your classmate-turned-stalker, Mickey Altieri.

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. I had so much fun writing this even though it’s foul as hell, so I kinda left it open to a follow-up. Please look at the warnings before deciding if you want to read this. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: Yandere behavior including voyeurism, stalking, blackmail, manipulation, filming without consent. Sexually explicit content that involves coercion (extremely dubious consent), masturbation, phone sex, degradation, choking, some elements of sadomasochism. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

The summer semester was always sleepy at Windsor College. Only a few hundred students stuck around for the limited summer course offerings, usually people who wanted to stay in town and utilize campus housing or to catch up on course credits to graduate on time. While Mickey was the former, you were the latter. 

Taking Statistics 1101 during the summer was essentially signing up for hell, a full semester’s worth of material packed into the 8-week session. Mickey figured he’d pass with a B or C, at least. By the third class, wherein you’d established yourself in the next seat over from him, it was clear you weren’t as confident. The two of you didn’t talk much. You were far too absorbed in trying to understand the material to hold a conversation with him for long. Maybe that was a mistake, because it just gave him more of a chance to watch you.

Sure, the way you’d bring your pencil to your lips while you were thinking caught his attention, but sometimes, when you were especially lost on one of the problems you worked on in class, you’d whimper or groan softly. Every time you did, he couldn’t help but glance over at you. On the few occasions you caught him looking over, you always mouthed a silent apology, assuming your expression of frustration had bothered him. 

Instead, you’d inadvertently wormed your way into the darkest recesses of his mind, almost exclusively occupied by his plotting and fantasizing about the killings he’d commit upon the upcoming preview of Stab. He had it all planned out perfectly, and with his friends back home for the summer, the Stab premiere a few weeks away, and no further word from his accomplice, a side project could do him some good.

He didn’t get close to you, not bothering to attempt to become your friend or acquaintance during the short semester. Having to keep up appearances with his existing friend group was exhausting already between pretending to care about everyone’s problems and keeping up with their banal drama. It drove him crazy. He was restless for some action.

So, he remained the guy from your Stats class as far as you were concerned. Meanwhile, he had gone to the library to look up your student profile and followed you back to your dorm at the end of the day. A wicked grin threatened to spread across his face at the revelation that you not only lived in the same residence hall, but also right next door to him. He wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed before, but he supposed he didn’t have any reason to. It was almost laughably easy from there to memorize your habits and schedule so he could sneak into your room as he pleased. Besides your shared Stats class, you were taking another general education course and worked part-time at a consignment shop in town. Plenty of opportunity for him to sneak around.

On his first visit to your room, he took his time, inspecting your choice of decor and rifling through your belongings. There was no need to familiarize himself with the layout since it was the same as his. Two beds, two closets, two desks—either side of the room a perfect mirror of the other. You’d claimed the side that was next to the window rather than the door. Perfect for a peeping tom, except that was far too tame to describe Mickey and his intentions. Besides, you were smart, closing your blinds whenever you changed. 

The posters on your wall screamed your taste in music at him, all pretty much what he expected except for a few outliers. You owned a small bookshelf which mostly held books for your classes and a few for personal reading, along with some CDs, knick-knacks, and framed photos. A TV and a VCR sat on top of the bookshelf, though he didn’t see any video tapes among your belongings.

Your desk was nothing short of a goldmine. Notes and pencils littered the top of it, and the wall behind it was plastered in post-its and reminders you’d taped up. He found your schedule for the upcoming fall semester in one of the drawers, complete with your own personal notes about student clubs that you’d be busy with outside of class hours. Folding the paper small enough to fit in his pocket, he resolved to take a closer look at it later.

Sometimes he’d take things. Most of the time you didn’t notice, but it sent a bit of a rush through him when you did. He'd watch your brow furrow in confusion as you searched your backpack or closet. He imagined you probably figured you had left your pencil behind in a classroom or a pair of panties in the laundry room. Other times he’d leave things–specifically his camera. After some trial and error, he found the best angle to hide it and record you, concealing it among the books and clutter on your desk.

His first few recordings of you were busts, either out of focus or in an awkward position to where he couldn’t see you, but he figured there was no harm in keeping them for posterity. With his ideal set up figured out, he’d break into your room twice a week while you were out and would either retrieve or leave the camera.

Stalking you became ritualistic, an almost meditative experience with so few moving parts to worry about, no fake best buddy persona to keep up. As he’d watch back the recordings of you studying, talking on the phone, and on occasion talking to yourself, he’d become wrapped up in elaborate and sadistic fantasies. In most of them, he utilized Ghostface to terrorize you, cornering you with a knife to your throat and threatening to slit it if you made a sound. Of course, because you’re you, you’d inevitably let out a moan or whimper in frustration, and usually his mind would run wild from there. 

Once in a while, he’d get really lucky and catch you getting yourself off with the lights on. He nearly came in his pants the first time he watched you wrap your own hand around your throat as you rubbed your clit. The sight nearly made him lose control and storm into your room then and there. He covertly made copies of those in the campus media lab, figuring they’d come in handy. 

The summer semester came to an end, and you looked more than relieved to hand in your final exam and kiss Stats goodbye. He was almost disappointed the game was ending so soon. He would be busier than ever with the Stab premiere coming up, two years of planning finally coming to fruition as he and his predecessor’s mom hacked their way through Windsor College’s student body to get to Sidney Prescott. As he watched you grab your things from your seat, you gave him a smile and a quick “See you around.” He responded with a smile of his own and a wave. Yeah, maybe he would.

Fall semester started unceremoniously, except for the arrival of a new roommate. She seemed nice enough, but you were going to miss having your own space. The two weeks between semesters where you didn’t have to worry about Stats anymore were beautiful. You vowed to never put yourself in a position to take a math course over the summer again. Still, it wasn’t all bad. Your roommate had a lot of night classes so she could work part-time during the day and have the rest of the week off. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays from five to nine were all yours until December. 

Wednesday nights were your favorite to spend enjoying the four hours to yourself. After getting something to eat in the dining hall, you would head back to the room and put on a movie. Your small TV didn’t have cable, so you were limited to local channels and movie rentals. It was the biggest reason you bought the VCR in the first place. 

On one particular Wednesday night, you’d finished watching a copy of The Princess Bride you rented from the video store a block over from campus. There was still about two hours to spare before your roommate would be back. While you waited for the tape to rewind, the phone rang. You reached over to your desk to pick up.

“Hello, Y/N,” an unfamiliar man’s voice said.

“Who is this?” you asked, fumbling with the tape a bit as you tried to eject it from the VCR and put it back in the box with one hand. You groaned in frustration.

“Call me a secret admirer.”

“I don’t have time for this.”

“Easy tiger, I just wanna talk.”

“Look, you’re skeezing me out. Don’t call again,” you said, hanging up. 

Almost as soon as you did, you heard a knock at your door. Phone in hand, you walked over, opening it to find no one on the other side. You looked up and down the hall to no avail, but noticed a small package wrapped in brown paper on the floor in front of you. You frowned, kicking it lightly. There was definitely something in it. Leaning down, you took a closer look at what was written on the paper. In black marker lettering, the package read:

TO: Y/N

FROM: GHOSTFACE

It didn’t seem like Ghostface’s M.O., though. You weren’t all that familiar with the Woodsboro killings, having seen mentions of it on your local news station when it first happened. Even though Sidney and Randy were both students at Windsor, you didn’t run in the same circles as them. They probably wouldn’t want to talk about something so traumatizing anyway. Gale Weathers’ sensationalized book wasn’t exactly at the top of your reading list, and your roommate was still trying to sell you on the movie adaptation. After hearing about the two students who were murdered at the preview screening, you definitely weren’t interested. 

Sighing, you grabbed the package off the floor, tucking it under your arm. At the very least, you could call campus security to come by and take a look at it. 

You nearly jumped out of your skin when the phone in your hand rang and muttered a curse to yourself when you picked up, hearing that same menacing voice from just a few minutes before.

“Don’t hang up on me again if you know what’s good for you, bitch.”

“Is this some Unabomber type thing?”

“Consider it a gift. Go on, open it.”

Against your better judgment, you shut and locked the door behind you, placing the package on your bed and tearing open the brown paper wrapping with one hand to find–a plain Nike shoebox. You pulled off the lid and saw a VHS inside, Y/N 07-27-98 scrawled on the white label stuck to the spine.

“I don’t–what is this?”

“Why don’t you put it on and see?”

With a shaky breath, you picked up the VHS and brought it over to the TV on the other side of the room, turning it on and putting it in the VHS player. The other end of the line was silent except for faint breathing as the video began to play. 

Dread overwhelmed your senses as your bedroom came into focus, and it looked like the camera had been placed on top of your desk. You glanced over at the desk, not noticing anything immediately standing out as a possible secret camera, which could have only meant that your voyeur had access to your room to plant it. 

You watched as a grainier version of yourself locked the door and then walked over to your CD player, turning it on. Your stomach dropped when the music began to play, soft and not the clearest through the video, but you knew as soon as you heard the opening notes of ‘Call Me’ by Blondie, it was the mix CD you put on to muffle the sounds of—

“I’m not fucking afraid of you, asshole,” you spat into the receiver, tears welling up in your eyes at the sight of your oblivious self shedding your clothing and making yourself comfortable on your bed. “Sidney Prescott got the losers who pulled this shit two years ago. She’ll wipe the floor with a knockoff like you.”

“Would you shut up? You’re gonna miss the good part,” Ghostface said.

The sound of your own moaning mixed with the music began playing over the TV. Fuck, people were gonna think you were watching porn. You kind of were, except you weren’t. Being your most vulnerable, intimate self was never something you wanted anyone else to witness. 

“Fuck you. I’m turning this off,” you said, your voice little more than a whimper as you tried not to cry.

“You sure know how to put on a show. I wonder what everyone else on campus would think? I made plenty of copies to go around.”

“What do you want?”

“An encore.”

“My roommate could be back any minute.” 

“She still has class for another two hours. Now strip.”

You trembled at the realization of just how much he knew about your life, to the point where he even knew your roommate’s schedule too. Suddenly your fall schedule disappearing over the summer, things of yours going missing and sometimes reappearing, even feeling like you were being followed at times all made sense as a chill crawled down your spine. You always considered yourself aware and alert, at least enough to never end up in a situation like this.

Turning off the TV, you looked around the room. Slowly, you walked over to your closet, kicking inside it. Nothing. “Where are you?”

“Why? Feeling lonely?” he taunted.

“I just wanna know how you can see me,” you asked quietly as you approached your bed to look under it.

“You’re about to find out if you don’t stop stalling and fucking do what I say. I won’t be as nice about it.”

Setting the phone down, you dejectedly shed your pajamas. Part of you wanted to say fuck it and hang up. You huffed, figuring he wasn’t bluffing about the copies if he already went to this much trouble. You grabbed the phone, bringing it back to your ear.

“Okay,” you said, your voice shaking. “I’m—I took off my clothes.”

“Get on the bed.”

Your lip trembled as you looked at your bed. The springs seemed to squeak especially loud as you laid down, stiff as a board with a death grip around the phone. There was silence until you spoke again.

“N-Now what should I do?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it? So many options, but we can start slow. Play with your tits for me.”

Reluctantly, you brought your free hand to one of your breasts, half-heartedly squeezing it.

“Like you want to,” he snapped.

It felt humiliating to be taking orders from some pervert over the phone, but nevertheless, you kneaded the soft skin beneath your fingers, pinching your nipple for good measure. 

“Shit,” he groaned, “you’d let me fuck your tits if I were there, you’d beg me for it, wouldn’t you?”

“Y-Yeah, I’d let you do whatever you wanted.”

“Of course you would, slut,” he growled, and despite everything, you let out the faintest whimper at his words. His tone turned mocking, condescending as he caught your slip up. “You like that? You wanna be my slut?”

“I—“

“C’mon, I wanna hear you say it.”

You hesitated for a few moments. ��I wanna be your slut.”

Fabric rustled on the other end of the line, followed by the sound of a zipper. You could hear him utter a curse, his only words that hadn’t been altered by the voice changer. Desperately, you tried to place where you’d heard him before, but to no avail as the modified voice spoke.

“Now, I want you to put the phone on speaker, and lay it right next to your head.”

You did as you were instructed, dreading what he was going to tell you to do next.

“Why don’t you slip your hand between your legs and see how wet you are? A slut like you must be dripping by now.”

Sliding your hand down from your breasts to your pussy, you hesitated before slipping your fingers between your folds.

“You wanted this all along, didn’t you?”

“N-No,” you protested weakly, your stomach dropping upon feeling your wet pussy. You didn’t want to be turned on by the situation, but your body seemed to think otherwise.

“No? You knew something wasn’t right, Y/N. You’ve known for weeks. That didn’t stop you from putting your cunt on display for me, but your fingers aren’t enough, are they?”

Almost as if possessed, your hand moved to your clit, fingers playing with it as you bit your lip.

“You’re such a fucking whore, choking yourself to get off. Yeah, I saw that too. You want it to hurt, huh?

“S-stop,” you whined.

“I bet you’re the type of girl who thinks being tied up and smacked around is foreplay.”

“Fuck,” you whispered, slipping two of your fingers inside your pussy. There was no way he couldn’t hear the sound of your fingering your wet cunt over the phone.

“If I were there—fuck—I’d have you begging for my cock. I wouldn’t hold back. I’d fill you up until all you could do was cry. Maybe I’d gag you with your panties to shut you up, make you taste how fucking wet you are for me while I ruin you.”

“Oh my god—fuck.”

“Now, put your hand around your throat, and squeeze,” your tormentor ordered.

There was no hesitation as you brought your other hand to your throat, your fingers constricting your airway as your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, and you imagined a black gloved hand in its place, your fucked out gaze met with a pair of black eyes, stony and indifferent to your protests as he pounded into you. 

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice husky, and you could hear him getting himself off too, fast, mean strokes on what you could only imagine was a cock that’d split you in half. “Harder.”

You squeezed tighter, and at the same time felt your pussy clench around your fingers. There was no way anyone walking by couldn’t hear the sound of you fingering yourself, you wondered if they could hear Ghostface over the speakerphone too. Maybe that was the point.

“Go on, cum. I know you want to,” he groaned. “I’m close too, been picturing your mouth around my cock. You’d probably love to—fuck—choke on that. Fucking slut.”

This time, he moaned, and you could hear him cursing under his breath, his voice unaltered again. You didn’t bother trying to place the sound of his voice, too busy chasing your own orgasm until you gave your throat another squeeze and your hips bucked, cumming all over your fingers as a pained moan tore from your throat.

The phone was silent except for the two of you breathing heavily. You brought your hand from your throat to your forehead. What the fuck did you just do?

“See you around, Y/N,” he said, and you knew it was a promise rather than a suggestion.

The other end of the line went dead. You spent at least fifteen minutes lying there, the dial tone buzzing in your ear. Finally, you willed yourself to get up from the bed, slamming the phone into the receiver before shuffling over to the VCR. 

Taking the video tape, your hands shook as you considered what to do with it. You could bring it to the police, but was there really any way for them to trace who recorded it? Besides, you’d rather die than anyone else see the video. It was bad enough that Ghostface or whatever fucking pervert was getting his rocks off to it. The last thing you wanted was a room full of cops and detectives analyzing a video of you fingering and choking yourself. It was diabolical, really, how well he had planned the whole thing. 

In deciding between shame and justice, you angrily chose shame, throwing the VHS onto the floor and taking out all of your frustration on the damn thing. You stomped on it, jumped, spat, screamed, all the while picturing that stupid mask in its place. You ended up cutting your bare foot on a piece of broken plastic, and finally sunk to the floor in a mess of sobs. 

Insomnia claimed you as a victim following the phone call from Ghostface, especially after you returned from class the next day to find a pair of your panties you’d previously thought were sacrificed to the depths of the dorm laundry room placed at the top of your hamper, dried cum all over it. Gagging, you threw it into the garbage and washed your hands under scalding hot water for no less than three minutes. You almost wished it was the result of your roommate bringing a guy back to the dorm, but you knew better.

Your roommate noticed your skittishness and confronted you about tossing and turning all night, offering to go to the student health center or even the emergency room with you. You declined, deciding to spend your nights in the dorm’s common area to at least let her get some sleep. Despite chugging coffee and applying copious amounts of concealer beneath your eyes to hide how discolored the skin had become in your exhaustion, people were starting to comment. You may as well have been a dead woman walking. 

Jumpy and paranoid, you were seeing cameras out of the corner of your eye wherever you went. It didn’t help that a few of your friends were film majors. Their cameras were practically glued to their palms. Not to mention, just about anyone could be Ghostface. You withdrew socially, no longer attending the clubs you’d been involved in and hardly giving your friends the time of day. You didn’t know who to trust.

After nearly passing out in your Introduction to Eastern Religions class, your professor practically forced you to leave. You shuffled out of the classroom, trying to ignore how much your head was pounding. Except, the pounding noise wasn’t in your head, as you turned around to see Ghostface striding toward you, boots beating against the floor as he approached. 

In your delirious state, you ran into a storage room rather than to the nearest exit. You silently cursed yourself as soon as the door shut behind you, effectively trapping you inside. It wasn’t big by any means, but there were at least a few shelves and boxes you could hide behind and delay the inevitable. You didn’t have much hope in your ability to get the upper hand on him with your sleep deprivation.

Just as you crouched behind a stack of boxes, you heard the door open and promptly slam shut. Your stomach sunk when a lock clicked. Fuck. Why hadn’t you thought to check for a lock? Involuntarily, you let out a whimper in frustration, immediately throwing your hands over your mouth.

A cruel laugh echoed through the room, while not the same low pitch as the phone call, you recognized the tone, the mocking cadence that made you get yourself off to him just days before. 

“Talk about playing hard to get,” Ghostface said, pushing you down as soon as you tried standing up. 

Your skull bounced against the floor beneath you. You were seeing double. Suddenly, as you groaned in pain, the wind was knocked out of you by his boot on your chest. Teary-eyed and delirious, you went limp beneath him. There was nothing you could try, nothing you could do. You were completely at his mercy, or lack thereof was more like it.

“Thought it was about time we got up close and personal,” he mocked, his boot pressing on your chest harder as he leaned down, the stark white mask with its soulless eyes and haunting grimace just a few inches from your face.

Between the pressure making it difficult to breathe and your exhaustion, you could feel yourself losing consciousness. As you began to black out, you thought you finally recognized the voice behind the mask.