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futurecorps3 · 1 year

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Hiii. This is my first time requesting so I don't know if I'm doing it correctly, but here it goes. It's about poly marauders

One in which the reader gets detention and the boys are wondering why and she does not tell them , and they get angry at her because they think she did a prank without them ar something

And then it turns out she like punched Snape , because he was talking bad about her boys and her. And like can you make it very very fluffy in the end

𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭

Masterlist<3

Summary: Read the request baby Pairing: Poly!marauders x reader Warnings: physical violence but not too descriptive, Snape calls reader a slut ❤️ and some more mean stuff. Word Count: .9K Requested: Yes

A/N: Yes!!! I love love love the angst this gives<3 Thanks for requesting my love, you did it correctly, there's rarely a wrong way of doing it so please don't worry! Also, this turned out to be a drabble more than a fic, hope you don't mind <3

Eyes turned as the beloved quartet stormed through the common room and onto the stairs of the Gryffindor dorms. Sirius trying to catch Y/N's wrist so she wouldn't lock herself in her room while their boyfriends walked behind them, James with an upset look in his eyes and Remus sporting furrowed eyebrows that showed unease more than anything.

"Y/N just talk to me!" the raven haired boy grumbled, trying to catch up with his girlfriend, eventually doing so right before she shut the door on his face. "Thanks babe," mumbled Prongs as their boyfriend held the door open for them. The girl sat on her bed when all the others in the dorm quickly left so they could have some privacy, not wanting to snoop on whatever the matter was.

"Why are you even upset about this!? I got detention, big deal" Y/N sighs, cradling her head in her hands, a headache from all the commotion already settling in. Her boyfriends knew she was suppressing something, and Sirius was really pissed about it; she didn't make it to their date that day, and when they found her she was exiting McGonagall's classroom with Snape.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because we were stood up by our girlfriend and noticed she so happened to be in detention with our worst enemy!?" "That's a bit dramat-" James started but was soon interrupted by his boyfriend's cold stare and decided to keep his comment to himself.

"What are you hiding?" Said Prongs in a very defensive tone, making Y/N lose it. "Hiding!? Like I committed a crime or some shit... I got detention and Snivellus got detention! That's it, so j-just go." Remus shook his head and walked over to his girlfriend, his boyfriends shutting up when he did. He had kept quiet since they found her, but since that's exactly how the boy acted when he got mad, he really couldn't blame her for not approaching him.

Something told him there was way more to this whole deal than being in detention; Remus could read everyone like one of his novels, and Y/N's slightly red knuckles and shaky hands were definitely telling a story. He gently took her hands and searched for those beautiful brown eyes, finding them slightly glossed over.

"How are you not mad at all!?" The Potter boy asked, an approving nod coming from their boyfriend, who was now under his arms to calm himself down. "Something's up" Moony mumbled, audibly enough for them to hear. Y/N tensed up at that. Bingo.

He sat next to her, and she immediately crawled up on his lap, covering his sweater in salty tears. They knew Y/N short circuited when she was upset, so they all got very protective whenever she cried or got too angry; "She kind of freezes," Padfoot said once. "It's okay, keep breathing," Moony cooed as their boyfriends sat next to them, all anger forgotten and replaced by worry.

They waited for a couple of minutes until she calmed down, and when her breath steadied, she left her safe heaven Remus' chest. Y/N crawled down his lap and sat between James and him. "I punched Snape on the face because he was being mean again and I got sick of his shit..."

Prongs' gaze went directly to her knuckles in worry. Sirius laughed loudly and kissed her cheek while Remus smiled proudly at his girl; she was upset because they pushed her, not for whatever reason got her in detention. Y/N smiled, reassuring her boyfriend her hand was okay and letting the raven haired boy pepper her face in kisses.

They knew their girlfriend had a fire inside

"What did he say now? Wanna talk about it?" Prongs quizzed, knowing it was common for Y/N to get in her head about these types of things. "He called me a slut, said it must be some muggle stuff that I got you three involved in... and then said Jamie is compensating for not being able to be with Lily since she's with Mary"

"I'll hex the bastard" Said Sirius with his French accent seeping through as it so happened when he was upset, already getting up from the bed before Remus grabbed his wrist. "Calm down love, it's nothing he hasn't said before". James gave him a reassuring smile, agreeing with their boyfriend as Moony chuckled; "Plus, I think he got enough, courtesy of our bright girl".

Y/N laughed at that before noticing a certain glint in their boyfriend's eyes. "All good Jamie?" She asked, grabbing his face in both her hands, his pair of glasses partially hiding the pools of brown gazing at her lovingly. "M'sorry we were mean to you" he mumbled, pouting slightly as he looked into her eyes.

The girl's heart melted, hugging James tightly. "It's okay" "It's not though" said Sirius in a whine, hugging her from behind, making a sandwich of his boyfriend, girlfriend and him laying on the bed. Y/N giggled at the gesture, grabbing Pad's hand and looking over her shoulder at him. "You were very dramatic, but that's nothing new a-and I think it's a normal reaction. I do have to admit it was..." "...sketchy?" "...weird?" they completed.

"... rather unusual," she smiled, kissing them both on the mouth. "You're both forgiven". "Well, this is just mean. Make some space" Remus grumbled, settling between James and Y/N as they all giggled and Prongs kissed him softly.

They spent their afternoon there. With Christmas break approaching, teachers were more flexible when it came to assignments, so even Remus allowed himself to slack a little just to be with his loves. Nothing could hurt them, ever.

The scene was a portrait of their love; a warm bed, sweaty limbs and kisses all shared with the highest intimacy that spoke of a love that would endure the greatest test of all which is time.

˚ · • . ° .

It’s currently 12am and my brain isn’t working so i’ll just post this and place the word count in the morning.

Remember, the best way to support writer’s works on here is by REBLOGGING WITH TAGS. I’d very much appreciate it if you did!

Thanks again, stranger. Hope you have a nice day<3

NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO REPOST AS THEIR OWN/TRANSLATE/OR COPY MY WORK IN ANY PLATFORM OR SPACE WITHOUT MY EXPLICIT CONSENT.

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eldritch-spouse · 7 months

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https://www.tumblr.com/eldritch-spouse/741884957599973376/httpswwwtumblrcomeldritch-spouse741700018004?source=share

I need to know in explicit detail the first time breg allowed this human to collect samples. Also need to know the embarrassing situations they are put in that their coworkers judge them

I honestly love this so much I'm kicking my feet and giggling ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[Fem reader. I kind of rushed this. Doodle at the end.]

TW: Heavy themes of abuse (including mentions of noncon, death and captivity); Dubious consent moments.

" Listen, we just need you to get in there. "

You blink. " ... This can't be serious. Is this a joke? "

The half-fiend woman, superior to you in professional rank, drags a hand across her blonde locks and grimaces. " Look, I know it sounds bad- "

" Of course it does! This was nowhere in the job description- "

Not that the job description was very uh, descriptive, anyway. But any straw will do, anything to cling to a modicum of your dignity as you get told what your next task will be.

She seems to switch through a few different corporate tactics to ease the blow. " Listen, please. We are short-staffed at the moment, and this has been affecting production a lot more than you can imagine. Specimen 197 is a big bread-winner here and we all know he's uncooperative with machinery, going as far as to ruin it constantly, which leads to more expenses- "

She's explaining this to you like you're a particularly slow toddler and you're not amused.

" We have also noted that M197 is clearly attached to you and a bond has been formed, which is why your presence is requested in certain situations, to reduce his stress levels during tasks. This... Is another one of those tasks. We just need you to get a few samples- " She points at the two canisters next to her. " And you can think of it as a way to improve your bond with the specimen even. "

" Ma'am, he's entering a rut. " You pause. " You want me to walk into a male breeder's cell while he's rutting and engage sexually with him? "

She gulps. " For- For strictly professional purposes- "

" I'm not doing this. "

...

" There's a significant monetary bonus if you manage to do it. "

A long, shameful, disgustingly filthy moment of silence unfolds where you internally debate how far you're willing to go for some much needed money.

Too far, apparently.

" ... I'll do it. "

" Great, that's wonderful, we- "

" No cameras in the room. "

She flinches. " But then how are we supposed to know if you're in danger? "

" No cameras, please. "

If you die you die. You don't want footage of you being possibly mauled by a breeder out there...

A begrudging glance is cast towards the canisters sitting innocently on the table.

Grabbing them, you prepare for the shitshow you signed yourself into.

We have him tied up, the techs had informed you, it'll make things easier.

Just hearing them gives you headaches.

Yes, of course, because forcibly restraining the already volatile lifeform will make it cease being hostile. Logical.

A long-suffering sigh exits your lips when you input the code to open 197's cell. It's a code you know by heart now. If not from the regular standard visits, then from the hurried string of numbers your coworkers would scream at you over the radio before getting launched around by a monster several times their size and weight.

It's hard to forget something like that. There are just some faces you never see again.

As soon as the heavily reinforced door hisses open, you're greeted by an immediate build-up of a snarl. As scary as the sound was when you first heart it, and continues to be on an instinctual level, you understand now that it's mostly born out of fear.

Nothing good ever happens when 197 is cuffed and he's right to be frightened.

The moment you step into view and the door slams shut behind you however, he visibly seems to shift gear instantly.

Sitting on the rather uncomfortable tiled ground, specimen 197 has his ankles spread and cuffed to the ground, his wrists joined behind him and his neck nearly choked to the wall. A muzzle prevents the breeder's jaw from elongating as it tends to do when he's threatened. His tail is likewise restrained in two areas. Those cuffs are the best things modern technology can offer, you haven't heard of a single solid monster type that can shatter them. They're likely also tampered with by some more magically-inclined individuals, but you've never been one to dabble in that.

He exhibits the signs you'd expect from any male entering a rut. Excessive sweating, goosebumps, a faster breathing rate, tension, restlessness and a dilated, humid slit. His skin flickers from time to time, signals somewhere between aggression and courtship displays. You would never have associated heat cycles with torture before starting your work here, but seeing the way these monsters are chemically forced into hypersexual, unhealthily exacerbated heats has shown you just how cruelly this biological process can be exploited.

Sometimes they die. A hormonal, frenzied, artificially accelerated metabolism like this is powerful, but it's also very fragile, in a way. Either they're able to maintain their required ridiculous nutrient intake, find a way to preserve as much energy as possible, or simply panic and end up dying from a mixture of stress and lack of sustenance.

Another sigh escapes your lips, you try to clear your head by placing the canisters on the ground.

The breeder in question, who was once nearly pitch black in his effort to intimidate the perceived threat, is now snow white, having registered you as his favorite, the "nice one". 197 shrinks in himself, then begins a litany of keening whines interspersed with specific chirps.

It might be a plea for attention from an already hormone-fried brain, it might also just be a desperate request to be released from his binds.

You're no paragon of morality, but unlike your coworkers, you understand that building a bond with anyone requires depositing some trust in them. And, even if 197 is rutting, you can only continue to build a connection with him if he has a modicum of comfort in this situation. Which is why you steel yourself before moving closer to the specimen in question and inputting the specific combination to unlock all of his cuffs.

The process is timed, giving workers about five or so minutes to leave the cell before the cuffs drop and the monster is freed. It prevents casualties, naturally.

197 tries to thump his tail in appreciation when he realizes what you're doing, quietly rumbling and trying to lean into the small brushes of your fingers as you work.

" There big guy, just give it a second... " You take a few steps back while you wait.

It feels like a small eternity before the restraints begin falling off one by one. First the tail ones, then the muzzle, the neck, the wrists... And the ankles. On that last click, the breeder shrugs everything away and stretches as he stands.

You've studied these monsters and their mannerisms, he's not stretching just to soothe his joints, he's displaying. The exaggerated curve of that spine says it all, you know exactly what reaction he's after. Though, already riled up as he is, you don't think it's a good idea to respond.

In a second, he's closed the distance between the two of you, this near suffocating hovering over your front, hands and arms twitching with the urge to touch you. 197 is not good with boundaries, which was very surprising to you, considering he absolutely detests it when 99% of people touch him.

The 1% being you.

He waits, visibly pained, for the signal.

" You can touch me now. "

And like a sudden wave, 197 nearly crashes onto you, his comparatively massive pale body blanketing over yours as his arms cage your upper body, lifting it along with him. You squealed the first few times, now you know to stay mostly still and lean to the right so he can shove his face in the crook of your neck without bonking his head against yours. Painful.

He takes a couple deep, shameless inhales of your scent. And, if you had to guess, you're probably a bit sweaty from anxiety. Not that he seems to care, 197 actually appears to slow down a little, enjoying the closeness and now familiar odor you possess. His tail coils around your legs and you pat his back when the telltale chirps and trills of elation make it past his throat.

" Yeah, I missed you too buddy. Take a breather. "

This close to the male, you have absolutely no choice but to drown in his musk. 197 can't help it, he's ruttting after all, those pheromones have to come out. Fortunately, as a human, you're not affected by them, though some of your monster coworkers have to wear specific masks when they enter rutting breeder cells. To you, it's just vaguely unpleasant and heavy.

197 would usually give you a bit of room by now, but he doesn't seem interested in that, instead shifting you around so he can smell other parts of your figure, particularly your hair. Your face warms from his excessive body heat and the sensation of being corralled, your protests silenced when a long blue muscle dips to trail from the base of your neck to your jaw and up the side of your face. The movement is quick, and your attempt to reflexively lean away is met with a tighter grasp as he repeats it.

197 has a habit of dulling his teeth to look more humanoid for your comfort, but not today, in the state he is, he likely forgot that detail altogether. This unfortunately means that you feel the scrape of those pointed daggers every time he amorously samples your skin.

" Alright okay, that's enough- "

You butt in when it feels like he's getting a bit too riled up too fast. It's not exactly counter-productive to your task, but letting him get more and more control over the situation will make it difficult to get the samples later. You can't wrangle a breeder in the throes of their rut, you have to do things before that critical stage.

However, the specimen isn't interested in listening to anything you have to say, responding instead to your tone with his own whine and starting to tug at your uniform. That does it. Thoroughly soaked in his drool, you grab onto the breeder's forearms hard.

" 197! " It's not a tone you like to use with any of the breeders here.

He eventually snaps out of his little trance, gulping, steadying himself before frowning and giving you the space you want.

In this barely minute-long episode, 197 has already kicked into high-gear. Breathing accelerated again, open-mouth panting, excessive drool production, somewhat puffed figure and the tips of his twin cocks already poking out of a pelvic pouch that can barely hold them back. He seems to shiver in his own overwhelming arousal, and though this species is known for having its eyes shielded behind a layer of skin on the face, you know he's fixed on you like a famished animal.

Although your cheeks are moments from setting aflame, this isn't exactly a new sight for you. 197 has gotten aroused in your vicinity several times, you've actually lost count. It'd be nonsensical of you to get irritated over such, given that these males are forced into hypersexuality by the concoctions introduced in their organisms. That paired with his fondness for you probably makes it hard for 197 to not get erections constantly. A hug can set him off, even simple closure paired with your scent is enough to do it.

Well. No time to waste.

While he's mildly disoriented, you grab one of the canisters and move towards a corner of the room with a seemingly randomly arranged pile of fabrics. This, as confusing as it may be to some, is a breeder's nest. And in this species of monsters, the males tend to be the ones who arrange spaces for coupling. 197 has expressed clear discontentment with the fabrics given to him during times of rut to fulfill his instinctual needs, but no one here is ever acting with the specimen's best interests in mind. Besides, he piped down when one of the techs had the bright idea of giving him a jacket you forgot in the workplace. It's right there in fact, the gray hue contrating with a mostly white and pale color scheme.

The nest itself is big, if it fits 197 then it definitely fits you too. And, knowing exactly what you're doing, you let him observe you take a step into it and sit down on the middle, empty canister beside you.

Oh boy.

You can practically hear the popcorn crackles in his brain.

The monster trills loudly, proudly, your supposed acceptance of what have amounted to months of unsubtle courtship from his part being finally rewarded. It's a dangerous moment, you're perfectly aware of such, but it's also necessary to get this over with.

197 drops to a creepily nimble crawl across the floor, rapidly posing over your seated form with blue-tinted cheeks and rabid need. Before you can get so much as a word in, he's dropping some of his weight on you, showering you in hasty licks and clumsy kisses again, this time unable to help himself from nipping at your clothes. The coverings visibly bother him, and the male growls quietly before his instincts tug at him again and he's trying to slot himself between your clothed legs. It takes some yelping, and fussy movement from his part, but you eventually rationalize that stressing him out can lead to a violent response right now.

Might as well let him get away with some embarrassing acts.

Hormone-muddled as he is, 197 has only enough of a mind to hold onto you and press two hot lengths against the front of your body. He's already full-mast, the heat and weight of those things dragging across you when he automatically moves his hips is utterly filthy. He groans, probably the first kind of decent friction he's been getting since he entered this phase of his cycle, the softness and smell of his favorite human getting the monster to leak already, lost in his desperate search for a modicum of relief. As gross and ridiculous as it is, at least he's not tugging at your clothes yet.

You can sense his frustration, the frantic way 197 mechanically bucks against you, the pressure he puts in every thrust, the way his claws puncture into your lab coat and he whines low, this noise that turns into a pleased sort of snarl. Overwhelmed, you shiver beneath his figure, glad there are no cameras to see you fluster and shamefully let a rutting monster grind at you.

You dare say you can get into this.

There's something so appealing about having a monster yearn for you so madly that he's driven to this senseless and primitive display, that even so much as humping you could have them blissed out. Your legs quake around his and you feel your pussy throb in response to the muted friction from his lightly barbed cocks. It's not the first time you've wondered about how it would feel... You've always been a monsterfucker at heart, and 197 is a brutally gorgeous specimen. He's always imploring for even a single touch from you, if you spread yourself out you have absolutely no doubt he would ram those alarming inches into you like a wild beast.

Yeah, maybe your coworkers would call you a sickfuck, but it's not like anyone who works here is moderately normal...

It's a secret. One that you're vaguely paranoid might not be so secret anymore, now that you've been entrusted with this.

In your horny little stupor, you make the critical mistake of forgetting that breeders quickly detect arousal in others. And you are probably making a wet spot in your pants as of now.

With a sudden snort of an inhale, he rises like a man possessed to start ripping at the sides of your lab coat, forcefully trying to rip it off even as he's unable to stop rocking his hips. He knows how to unbutton things just fine, but you bet he can't be fucked to think much in this state.

" Hey- Hey, easy, slow down. " You grab onto his wrists, being ignored.

Okay. Time to think this out while you still can. He's going to rip through your clothes if you let him, and that's not just needless damage, it'll put him in control. But being aggressive about getting him to stop isn't ideal with this type of monster, you need something that distracts him too much to realize he's not exactly holding the leash here. Eventually, an idea graces your mind, though it makes you grimace a little.

Already blazing with shame, you carefully edge a hand between you and, with some hesitation, grab one of the twin members pushed against you.

Instant reaction.

The monster halts, as desired, and looks at you almost oddly, but hopefully. The trick is not giving him enough time to think, so you quickly get a feel for what you're working with, and start stroking him generously.

It's not the frenzied, rushed jerking he inflicts on himself when his own libido becomes bothersome, the fisting of a large hand with little focus and care. You handle him as pleasurably as you can manage, using both hands on him and attentively reading his face. 197 pants openly again, glancing vapidly at your small hands while they work him and he fucks into the motions, strings of thick drool falling from his teeth.

" Good...? Yeah? " You ask, gulping.

He falters and gasps, trying to articulate something. " Please. " Gets dragged out, his dick pulsing in your grasp.

You don't quite know what he's begging for, but you assume he's enjoying himself. Watching the neglected length bob uselessly, you take the opportunity to remove your own lab coat, switching hands quickly when necessary. The shirt comes off too, leaving you in your bra and pants.

By the time you glance back at him, the breeder's skin has shifted entirely to black, and he's hypnotized by the new parts of your body revealed to him, the mounds on your chest breeder females don't have but that he somehow finds pleasing to the eye regardless.

You make a lifting motion, trying to get his attention. " Knees. Come on, knees. Let me show you something. "

It takes a hot second, but he computes the request and does as told out of genuine curiosity. You're about to show an already decidedly horny monster the wonders of oral sex, which is likely not the brightest of ideas, but no one's here to judge your poor decisions.

197's girths hover far too close to your face while he waits a tad impatiently. Studying the things you'll be pleasing soon, you nearly pale a couple shades, knowing it'll take some prayer not to end up hurting your jaw. The male has lived in captivity since the day he hatched, you've enjoyed showing him some of the nicer things in life from time to time, this is just another one of them.

Carefully grabbing onto the left one, you glance at 197 as you deliberately slip your tongue out, so he doesn't just assume you're going to try biting his genitals. He tenses, because of course he would, but you take your time, stopping the moment only his tip is inside your mouth. The breeder is a tad confused and quaking slightly with ambiguous anticipation.

Then you suck.

And it clicks instantly.

God, just this little of his length is already forcing you to open wider than you've ever had to with previous partners, still, you strain to take a few more inches down and focus on that part.

The male exhales tremulously, experiencing the feeling for the first time ever, you're certain. 197 has to straighten slightly as the first intense waves of pleasure course through him, and bless the big dorky monster, he has no idea what to do with himself or his arms. As your jaw adjusts, a tad uncomfortably, you start truly gouging how much of him you can handle. Not that much honestly, but it's to be expected. It's already more than enough to please him, if the increasingly louder growled trills are any indication.

Oh, you bet this is the closest thing to heaven for him. His favorite human, with a mouth warmer than he could have ever expected, lips much softer than any of his species', no apex predator teeth to get in the way, and a tongue that although flat and short, can still chase after those wonderfully sensitive spots.

He has exactly zero idea how to react beyond making bestial noises and drooling on his own chest like a vapid animal. The way his cock pulses in your mouth is a tad bothersome to the rhythm you're trying to keep, but you figure you don't have to show-off to someone who's never had oral before, he's already blown away.

Humorously, 197's hands land on your shoulders, and that's the only way he can apparently steady himself while he's sucked off. His spare cock oozes precum that smears onto your bare chest and you half-heartedly pump it when you pop off his other dick.

" Is this okay, hm? " Needless question, really.

The breeder doesn't even make an effort to reply, whining at the loss of friction and edging forward until both his members nudge against your cheek and lips, begging without words to have that bliss again.

Feeling vaguely in control, enough to be playful, you lean away from the one closest to you and take the right one into your mouth, sucking it as far in as you physically can before switching to the other one, all just so you can hear 197 gasp and grunt out moans. His desperation causes him to buck, and as you gag, a little lightbulb fizzles above his head.

Oh.

Oh no.

The next time you try to pull away, his hands rise from your shoulders to the sides of your head. Each dark finger nearly curves over the perimeter of your skull, and you freeze instantly, not wanting him to tighten his grasp by any means. Everything is fine so long as he only holds onto your head this way, gently.

He's the one moving this time, apparently marveling at the sight of his length disappearing past your somewhat swollen, drooled lips. Except, as expected, he's going faster and deeper than you'd like, getting into it enough to trigger harsh flutters in the back of your throat. Your gagging and subsequent reflexive jerks are met with warning rumbles and one of his hands caging you in place by the back of head.

He learns fast, needless to say.

The more he drives into you, the less you can control your saliva, creating gross pops and slurps as you have little choice but to huff through your nose. Merciless, not even the odd cough around his dick will stop him now that he's nearing orgasm, or so you're willing to guess by his franticness.

Eventually, he makes the mistake of shoving his cock far enough that your jaw strains and your stomach flips, a grossly loud hurl being his response. The horrid noise finally jolts him to a still, giving you enough space to pull away and catch some much needed breath, controlling your belly before anything unfortunate happens.

" Fucking Hell! " You groan hoarsely, irritated. " You're hung like a horse, be careful... "

The rutting male's fried brain only understands that you sound wounded, a concerned chirp followed by soothing sloppy laps to your jaw being his response.

Not an ideal development at all, and yet, progress.

197 is usually very violent with the breeders they tired to pair him for mating. Which is to be expected, being the golden goose of the facility comes at a cost- The rush of hormones in his machine of a metabolism doesn't just contribute to more virility than his male peers, it also causes bursts of hyper aggression not easily controlled. And the only socialization this one usually gets is fights with other males who feel threatened by his presence, understand that they are being hurt by techs because they fail to live up to the standard 197 created, that they might be killed for such.

The females, likewise, fear him.

197 is bigger, louder, scarier. He has a reputation amongst the other breeders, and some of them were more likely to try fighting him off during their heats than accept getting sexual with him. This has led to 197 rejecting all breeders regardless of the context, which resulted in many of the paired females being immediately fatally attacked whenever a scheduled session was arranged. Sometimes he would simply slaughter them, other times he would actually instinctually attempt to mate, and end up ignoring cries of distress, nothing but rage and hormones in that brain causing him to end up killing them mid-coitus.

Shitshows, complete shitshows you've had the displeasure of partially witnessing in the past.

Which is why you're so incredibly shocked he stopped when he heard you nearly throw up. Then again, you're no breeder, and you like to think you've created as decent a connection with him as possible. It could be that.

When the monster thinks you've recovered enough, he attempts to get you to sit in the same position from before so things can resume, and if the way he's insistent on keeping a hold of your head is any indication, then he's learned he prefers to take control of this. And you won't be the fool that argues with him in this state.

After licking your lips a few times, hearing his impatient little huffs, you take one of those slicked cocks into your mouth again, letting him build the pace back up. On the one hand, you're glad you don't have to pretend to keep any composure, letting yourself drool as much as possible for the sake of making the process easier, and uncaring of the filthy noises that only seem to make his thighs quake. On the other, you need a solution so he doesn't just peirce past the back of your throat.

So, experimentally, the next time 197 pushes far enough to have your eyes rolling, you get a firm grasp of the base of his tail and tug.

The appendage lifts and his spine curves back in sudden shock. You doubt it's pain that has him straightening like a plank, after all, you know these beings can oftentimes carry their young by the tail, so if it can handle their body weight, then it can handle a yank from a human's hand. It's more so a sort of "freeze reaction", effective in getting the male to pull back even if he grunts in mild agitation.

It's only fair, in your eyes.

The moment you let go, 197 continues to fuck your face as he pleases, moaning and curving over you once more to find his own pleasure, until he drives in too much again and you repeat the gesture. Over and over, so he understands there are limits.

It seems to succeed in getting the message across. If he wants to keep getting sucked off by your hot little mouth, then he needs to be minimally considerate.

This goes on for a while, you're almost proud to feel him eventually actively hold back from going too far. Because that would halt the friction, and judging by the way his tongue lolls out in pleasure, 197 wants to come really bad.

He seems to have enjoyed your antics from before, because the male actively pulls out of your mouth with another lurid pop and positions his spare length against your lips, fucking into you a couple times before switching to the other one, doing this enough times that you honestly struggle to contain some laughter.

His throbbing increases and you know his peak approaches, quickly reaching beside you for the container as fingers race to open it. Your spare hand makes an extra effort to stroke the length 197 can't fit inside you and with as much vigor as possible, you complement his every motion.

The second you back away to breathe, strings of saliva still clinging from your lips to his dicks, offers the monster enough of a nasty view to trigger exactly what you need. 197 snarls at the top of his lungs, rapidly fisting both cocks before you. It's a decidedly disgustingly arousing display that has you staring heatedly, until the first rope of thick pearly cum lands on your cheek.

It jolts you into flustered movement, holding the canister up to the closest of his girths, you try to get as much as possible inside, unable to shield yourself from the rest of his load as it lands on your neck and tits, warm globs marking you in the throes of the specimen's ecstasy.

It's immensely relieving for him, the sighed, low and needy moans that rip out his throat evidence enough that 197 had been pent up for more than a while. And you... You're soaked in warm seed, observing his maddened jerking slow down.

This is your job now.

Personally collecting from the golden goose of the facility. All for a bonus.

Whatever, just don't think about it too much.

Giving into the guilty sense of pride you feel over making 197 stare at the ceiling in total bliss, you lean down to catch the trails dripping down those teal blue lengths, cleaning him. You don't have to, by any means, but you've already sunk so low today, what difference does it make if you let yourself go a little?

The specimen's legs tremble and he glances down at you with this utterly cum-drunk, infatuated smile. Dark, stained digits rise to comb through your hair in some kind of comforting gesture until you eventually pull away and allow the male to recover.

Now, two things.

You need to clean up somehow, you don't want his cum to dry on your skin.

There's also the matter of the second canister, you think while you grab one of the cloths in the breeder's nest to wipe your face and chest on. You probably won't be allowed to leave his cell until they're both full.

Reaching for the one already warm with 197's sample, you seal it tight, the small device in it emitting a faint green light and beeping quietly. The signal that one container has been filled is then sent to whichever tech is keeping track of this particularly... Unique task.

A pang of shame courses through you at the thought of one of your coworkers now knowing that you've made 197 orgasm.

Time to get the other one and hurry this up.

Unfortunately, as soon as you're about to set a foot outside of the nest, a huge black hand captures your leg, and you're possessively tugged back by a disgruntled breeder who barely gives you enough time to scream before he starts shredding the rest of your clothes...

Hours have passed. You're sure of it.

As far as anyone's concerned, your work has been accomplished. Both canisters are practically overflowing with untainted samples, sitting in the corner of the room so that nothing happens to them.

You're naked, sticky and likely to bruise in some areas from 197's lack of strength mediation, but you did it.

At any moment now, coworkers of yours will enter 197's cell, and you know it's going to be a total wreck. Between his likely immediate aggression, the damage they'll cause him and your less than sightly state, it'll be unpleasant.

But you can't bring yourself to care.

Not when a tireless tongue continues to groom your already exhausted form and 197's meaty cock lazily fucks globs of his hot cum back into your puffed pussy while he trills soothingly. His breathing has steadied and his heartbeat slows.

Any moment now, he might fall asleep inside you, enjoying a sweet moment of bliss before you're taken away again.

It's almost cruel.

#Bregory #monsterfucker #terato tag #yandere monster #yandere teratophilia #monster boyfriend #monster x human #not sfw #minors dni #pinnie's art #terat0philliac

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lexumpysfunland · 6 months

Text

After looking at all the Narrators I got I kinda had to pick from all of them- I'm sorry if your Narrator isn't on the list of those I've drawn ;-;

besides that, I had to make sketches for all of those I've drawn : D

Start with @bugenthusiast0 's Narrator... better have the notif to see it because your Narrator looks adorable... I want to hug him

Next, have @finnleywiththesillys 's fun Narrator.

Next, we have @jestie-bestie , they look so nice??? I want to enjoy some tea with them!

Next, it's @employee052 turn, I made him look disgusted x'D he probably is disgusted to know I'm drawing him-

Next... probably the one that started my obsession with TSP really- it's @squarratorsideblog Virus Narrator... I mean... can you blame me for loving this guy? Just look at him!? will probably draw him again

next is @aiberry I find his design really cool- yes, I put something in his screen as a 'placeholder' kind of... forgive me for doing that ;-;

Next is @mariade11art . I really like the way he looks! so for me, it's a win! also... can I hug him?

Next is @lazy-b1rdy . he looks really cute~ I don't know if I'll give him back though /j

Next is @coralkrill 's Narrator. he looks adorable, I do want to hug this silly guy~

Next, we have... @ihazmunchies91 ... can I say how WONDERFUL he is? looks evil and I love that- I love him may draw him in the future again

Next is @semisocialporcupine . I can say that now that I saw how he looked in human form I can die happy.

Then it's @xandyprojects 's turn with a very interesting design I admit! it reminded me of Garnet from Steven Universe... somehow? but anyway, I like it!

and we finish with @juaneloriginal ! the fluffy Narrator that I see everywhere. he is cute though so yeah he deserves it...

and it's all I did... I kinda need a break for a bit since I have a fun headache coming hahah

but for all those who discovered a Narrator or just a new artist you like, go give these people some love! they all deserve it !!

thank you everyone for giving me your designs so I can draw them! I hope you all like it ;-;

I want to say sorry for those I wasn't able to draw... they're all really cool and if I had more motivation I would've drawn them. but hey I'll probably do that again so maybe next time!

on that note, I'll ... try to get some rest maybe... even if I feel like Walter is going to be jealous because I haven't drawn him today /j

#yeay I did it!#I feel Walter staring at me from the shadows /j #thank you everyone #narratorverse #tsp narrator #the stanley parable narrator #narrator #tsp fanart #tsp #tspud #tsp art #tsp fandom #tsp au #fan art

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j0kers-light · 2 months

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what if y/n was an airhead... not necessarily super dumb but a little slow or ditzy... and a little dumb. but also very positive and carefree. basically a golden retriever type of person 😂 i just wonder what j would think about that 😂

Hey hi anon!! 🖤✨

Oh this is gonna be fun. 🥰 I love doing reaction head canons! Let’s GO!!!!! Don’t ask why I’m still up at 2am. I hope you enjoy anon!

The first time that Joker met you, he wanted to slash your throat so bad. How are you so positive and carefree? There's no way you're like this 24/7.

You are. Gods you really are. Joker questions your mental state because you are too kind to others and your naivety is so pure, you are considered a national treasure. He wants to taint you. Point. Blank. Simple.

How are you so joyful? Do you do drugs? You're always smiling, offering up words of encouragement, and soooooooo many hugs to strangers. You are wayy too bubbly for J's tastes.

Too often you remind Joker of his ex Harley and he refuses to do that all over again. He considers breaking up with you because you're just so... ditzy.

Your attention span is that of a goldfish, and you literally stop to smell the roses while out and about. You even play peek-a-boo with children you see on the street. End his misery please. 😭

But despite the constant headaches you give Joker, he can’t seem to stay away. He’s addicted.

Frost and the boys stare at Joker in horror when you visit the hideout (unannounced) with a basket full of baked goods; blissfully unaware that a goon almost shot you for trespassing.

This is the girl their boss is dating?!!?!? HOW? It’s giving peak grumpy x sunshine energy because you and Joker do not compute.

BUT. IT WORKS. The laws of the universe bend to make it happen and Joker cannot thank them enough for placing you in his life. He wouldn’t be the same without you.

You know you can be an airhead at times but Joker reins in your overly bubbly persona. He's always looking out for you and not allowing anyone to make you into a pushover.

In return, you encourage and offer Joker the love and support he secretly needs while quelling his more violent tendencies.

You calm his anger. He keeps you focused. 🔥✨

You're still his Light although it stands for Sunlight in this scenario and you get a sun tattoo behind your ear in honor of it.

Joker is grateful that you are nothing like Harley. Yes you can be annoying at times but you mean well in the long run.

Its not just obsessive loyalty and toxic love; you genuinely care about Joker and you push him to become a better man every day.

And the feeling is mutual. Joker does not tolerate anyone making fun of his sunlight. He kills anyone who insults your intelligence and anyone that makes you cry, mysteriously disappears.

Joker is the only one who can call you silly or dumb because it’s not an insult when J says it. 🥹

You giggle anytime he calls you silly girl or his dumb little slut. AND l OOP! SORRY ! I forgot this was sfw!! 👀👀 MOVING ON 👩🏽‍💻

Speaking of you barging into the hideout with baked goodies. That actually happened.

Everyone was shocked when you knocked on the door with a loud, "HELLLLLOOOOOOOO! J are you in there? I brought snackies!"

No one knows how you navigated this deep into Joker’s territory without being murdered. No one knows how you bypassed the building’s security.

You just waltz in like you own the place, bringing an aura of joy and happiness in your wake.

Joker was in an important meeting, discussing how to eliminate a rival popup gang when he heard your heels clicking down the hall. He knows that sound from anywhere and his face turns white.

A goon is right behind you threatening you to leave or else, when you just causally walk into the meeting room, blissfully unaware of the danger you are now in.

Do you even notice all the guns trained on you? Nope, you only have eyes for Joker. You stop yourself from tackling him with a hug.

"There you are J! Oh. Are you busy? Well not anymore!! I baked muffins, and cookies, and oh!” You finally acknowledge the room full of men.

You blink twice before smiling wide. “Hi everyone!! Does anyone have a peanut allergy? I made treats with and without nuts just in case!”

An entire room full of dangerous criminals stare in disbelief as you unload your wicker basket right onto the table, all while humming a song.

They all turn to stare at Joker who is ready to crawl into a hole from embarrassment. He doesn't even know where to begin there's so much to unpack here.

How did you get here all by yourself? Who let you in?! Why did you bake so much?! Is that a pain au chocolat?

Surely you sense the threat around you but no. You are so oblivious, it’s almost sad to watch.

Some brave soul does announce their allergy and you quickly deliver them a nut free brownie on a pink napkin.

Your naïve personality triggers an understanding in the room and people start to lower their weapons in exchange for treats.

By the end of your impromtu visit, Joker's gang is obsessed with you and your baking. And so the questions start pouring in.

"Y/n you’re so nice! How is someone like you with the boss?"

You look up from handing a goon a cookie, "You mean J? Oh!" You look away bashful as they all wait for a response. Even Joker is intrigued with what you’ll say.

“I’m not the smartest girl in Gotham but Joker doesn’t care! He’s the most patient person I’ve ever met and he never belittles me! How could I not love him? He’s so protective too! He always murders the mean people who make fun of me. Isn’t he so romantic?”

The room goes silent after that last bit. And so it all starts to make sense.

“Great. She’s crazy too." One guy whispers.

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tomurawr44 · 1 month

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Can you do a part 2 to the grocery worker Tenko AU? Maybe where he finally talks to the reader it where she asks him out?

A/N: i never knew the grocery worker one would want a part two! this is great and i will be cooking, yes this can have unlimited parts and just keep asking and I'll deliver🙏

Warnings: quirkless!au, creep!tenko, no tomura :(, maybe, maybe a little bit of angst, Shimura family alive and well, his dad still sucks, HANA!! MON!! uhm our boys a lil dirty...BUT LIKE NATURAL I SWEAR, reader has a pet, little cliff hanger cause i do want to do a little bit of a timeskip, this is technically part 2.5 only lol

he lied restless and awake on his bed, he had dinner and didn't really feel like playing a game, not like he had anyone to play with, really. all his pings from online groups were either server announcements or just desperate attempts to get the server alive again. he laid on his side, thinking about the girl from the grocery, while he did genuinely find her infatuating, she was also infuriating. was she just a cruel joke on him? why else would she come in every day and only ask him for assistance? all his coworkers were available, but she only ever came to him. it made him feel special but also made him hurt because he knew that it could never be, he'd be stuck people watching attractive girls for the rest of his life because why would any of them choose him of all people? he self loathed for a little while longer as he heard the clock tick, he had a last shift and it was friday, a few more weeks before college started and he'd be juggling both of those headache inducing things.

he hated it, he hated alot of things, but there was just one thing he couldn't possibly bring himself to hate. her. she was kind to him, she never made fun of him, she always made an attempt to steer and make the conversation about him, he felt seen, heard. whenever she'd speak to him he felt bad because most of the time he got a boner, but he just couldn't control it, he really couldn't. she was pretty. and she was giving him attention. he wondered if it would scare her away if she found out how he felt about her. he wondered if she'd stop coming to see him, insult him, all of the horrible things girls usually do around him.

he doesn't mean it, he really doesn't but he just feels..empty. his big sister, Hana is the pride and joy of their family, meanwhile he was just..stuck. stuck being a man-child and stuck in her shadow. he got good grades, a scholarship even, yet that was never good enough for father. mother would try and ease him but he knew it wasn't good enough for her either, so why in the world would he ever be good enough for someone like you?

the clock ticked around one in the morning, he had a shift to work soon, he shouldn't stay up dwelling on silly things that he already knows the answer to. he closed his heavy eyes but his mind was so noisy. he eventually did fall asleep, but even then it felt like he was just lying down with no actual rest to it. when he woke up his body was aching, he could feel the familiar sensation of a dry mouth and the taste of morning breath mixed with whatever energy drink he pounded last night before going to bed, it felt like motivation just wasn't with him today, last night he couldn't even find the motivation to jerk off, one of his usual routines so he doesn't blow a fuse at work or at dinner with the family. his eyes ached even when he shut them, and he let out a groan.

He didn't even really want to shower but going into work feeling all sticky might actually make his shift a miserable hell. he could see mon sleeping at his feet, the one good thing in his life in the current moment. when he sat up he could feel his back crack when he twisted himself, a low groan leaving his lips as mon woke up and tilted his head at Tenko. wondering if he was alright. he lazily grabbed his phone off the nightstand, no new notifications. as per usual. his contacts so empty he couldn't even scroll, it was just 'dad', 'mom', and 'hana'. no new messages from them either. his fingers went to reach for his neck, a small sigh leaving his lips as he got ready.

when he got into the shower he bathed with hot water as usual, honestly just blanking out as the water cascaded down his scarred body, his eyes unfocusing on the several bottles of shampoo or bodyscrub Hana used. before he finally snapped out of it, scrubbing his hair in with the 3-in-1 he usually gets from the grocery he works at. he scrubbed his head down, no matter how hard he scrubbed like what mom said he could never stop dandruff from forming on his head, he's stopped caring about it awhile ago but he still wonders from time to time.

his fingers ran through his black hair so he could gett he last of the shampoo out, letting out a small sigh while he thought back to you. he remembers a scenario, you and him, not doing anything inherently sexual, just holding eachother under the hot water. he wondered if you liked it hot, or maybe a nice warm. he could imagine himself holding you, pressing you against his chest while you two didn't exchange any words. just the silence, the intimacy and the tenderness of it all would usually have him grabbing for the shampoo and pumping it, but today he just..wasn't feeling it.

when he put his uniform on, mon was used to the usual routine so he barked a little, wanting a bit of pets before Tenko started his shift. he went down for a bite of breakfast, he made sure that his shift starts almost exactly when father leaves for work but much to his unpleasant surprise, his father was still there, eating breakfast with hana, mom and his grandparents. he guided mon down the stairs to follow behind him as he tried to sneak by and not draw attention.

"Tenko, come, let's have breakfast, and mom has to tell you something." hana called out, smiling at him. she's been trying to get closer to her little brother, ans Tenko's taken notice but what he could assume was that she wanted something. so much for sneaking by.

"I'm fine, i have to catch the metro, I'll be late for work." he huffed, sliding his beat up red shoes on and giving mon some pats, cupping his fluffy cheeks and muttering a small goodbye to mon, only mon as he shut the door behind him.

Kotaro sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, he couldn't actually remember the last time this family had a complete dinner together, and he was getting more..worried wasn't the right word. nor was concerned. dissatisfied, disappointed fit what he was looking for. "do you even think he's actually going to work?" took a sip of his water, feeling the usual exhaustion creeping up on him as Hana grit her teeth.

"He's trying, Kotaro. he's doing his best." Nao defended, although Tenko wasn't exactly living up to expectation, she acknowledged her son's hard work. "Give him a chance, dad." Hana butted in, hoping to give Tenko some good word in their father's eyes. "I passed by the store he works at, he's working, he's helping customers and restocking stuff." she sighed. "Work that won't ever mean anything."

Tenko stood outside the door, his ear pressed against the wood as he listened into the faint conversation. a frown growing on his face as he took in their words, he was used to hearing his father's disapproval, neglect or just straight up insults about his life choices, but hearing it from behind his back made his chest twist a little tighter.

whatever, he didn't have time for this. he put his hood up when he saw slight drizzles falling onto the front lawn, hands in his pockets as he began walking, 'Work that won't ever mean anything'. is what he thought about. he was trying, he really was. he was doing good in school, but dad stopped caring when Hana won her 3rd competition. he tried getting atleast a better more stable corporate job, like Hana, she was working with dad in his company. but he was always denied, something about his youth or bullshit like that. his english was good, great even. but he knew by the way his employers looked at him it wasn't that.

he was so lost in his thoughts he barely registered the honking to his right, before the car gently bumped against his hip and the driver began yelling at him. he simply growled at the obscenities and went on his way, he's heard worse online. he minded his business and went to work, that was until-

"Oh, you're..Shimura, right?" she spoke up, tapping onto his shoulder, she'd recognize this outfit anywhere. when he turned around he was faced with you but you were actually wearing casual clothing this time, nothing too extreme nothing too tight or revealing. just a simple shirt and oversized pants. "are you..on your way to work?" you were buying pet food and some simple groceries to make it for a few days and managed to bump into him, mystery guy. well, not really mystery if you actually went out of your way to ask his coworkers what the creepy cutie in the back's name was.

if he wasn't feeling it this morning or last night, he was definitely feeling it now.

—Ake 2024

#tomura shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #tenko shimura #shigaraki #mha #tomura #tenko #shigaraki x reader #mha x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #bnha #shimura tenko #bnha x reader

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schrodinger-swriter · 7 months

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Heyoo!! I was wondering if I could request A, D, F, K, L, P, Q, T and X for Angel Dust x reader for the Hazbin fluff alphabet? Thank you!!!💕

A, D, F, K, L, P, Q, T, and X for Angel Dust

I hope this one is okay, I feel Angel may be another character I'll have difficulty catching right, but nonetheless I hope you enjoy, Anon!

Apologies for such a short note, I'm getting another headache coming on.. I think I will write out this post and rest.

For the Tunes segment I would like to apologize for having a trash taste in music, I naturally gravitate to songs I already know with these kinds of questions..

ATTRACTION:

This one is very tricky, given that Angel throws himself at any guy he sees. Though, that's because he feels it's what is expected of him, is it not? At least gathering from his wiki as well as his actions within the series... Pinpointing his type is a little difficult and what he knows he's attracted to. But what about subconscious attraction? He needs someone who's willing to deal with his sarcasm and meanness, but won't totally blow him off. But he also needs someone he can just unwind with, you know? Very hard to say, and comparing how he acts with the rest of the cast is offering little idea.. Definitely going to need to be patient with this one, too, but that's not exactly an attraction thing.. hmm..

DATES:

A club may be his first go to, especially if this before he starts taking the redemption thing seriously. Though, that's not exactly the best date idea now is it? You go there to get drunk or take enough substances to not think straight for the next week; or to fuck. Sure, you can bond with someone over a shot, but is it really.. genuine? Add in he might be stressing over you like he did with Niffty if this is within the second half of the show's current timeline, and you get drunk before he can.. No, my mind keeps wandering to the two of you simply having an at home date. Together, at your place or yours. If it takes place at the hotel he takes you to his room. Less of a date as it is a hangout session, and he might try to initiate sex.. More experienced with intercourse than the romance side of things, so that's going to take time too.

FAMILY:

Sinners can't have biological children of his own, but Angel Dust is fine by that. Perhaps he feels responsible for a moment and admits (likely internally) that he can hardly keep an eye on himself, how can he keep an eye on a child? There's also some level of fear that the kid would follow in his foot steps and end up in a nasty situation, Angel knows he's not exactly the best.. role model. He's more likely to ascend than be a father.

KISSES:

Oh he loves physical affection. Sure, a lot of it is going to be sexually charged. Diving into the romance vs sex side of things, it may take him a while to fully get a grasp on the difference between lustful feelings and romantic ones and how to act them out. Not all kisses and cuddle sessions need to end in intercourse. He loves giving you quick kisses, long kisses, kisses with tongue, kisses without tongue. He's not picky at all. His favorite place to kiss you is really anywhere on your face... but if you give him the chance he'll say his favorite place is more... down south

As for receiving, I think he stands at around the same.. point.. Yeah, point! Not picky when it comes to him getting affection!

PETNAMES:

He calls you everything under the sun. From schnookums to Honey, you've heard it all. He defaults to Baby and Babe, though. Tends to replace your name with something endearing unless there's something serious going on or he's trying to get your attention. Similar to the above segment he's not picky about what you call him, but he does seem to get this look in his eye if you call him something rather sweet and innocent.

QUESTION:

Oooo this ones tough....

He asks what your favorite position is/j

No, but real talk, I think if you two were alone and you're in his room... perhaps in one of your hangouts... he might let his walls slip a bit, ask you some real.. personal stuff, perhaps seeking some sort of validation or even reassurance. This is more likely after a rough day and after a drink or two.

TUNES:

Perhaps I'm biased because I've been getting back into Maneskin but I can imagine you two absolutely BELTING it to this song! Not exactly a "couple song" per say, but definitely a song that you two vibe with together!

youtube

As well as this song, for the same reasons above

youtube

Though I'm also picturing the Reader and Angel drunkingly singing Tally Hall's version of Just A Friend (while the pair are giggling and getting way into it, you know just having a good time!)

youtube

XRAY:

It depends on how long you two have known each other. Are you guys a quick fling that fell together fast, or were you both a slow burn? If your relationship formed quickly, he may be a little stumped on reading you.. which can sometimes lead to him being a little insensitive to your feelings and vibe. Or awkwardly standing there unsure of how to approach you, likely slinking away to let you handle it on your own. But in something that had left more time for the two of you to get to know one another, he's going to let you vent and complain to him. He can tell somethings off with just the tone of your voice or if your wording is a little off. You two aren't totally in sync, but he's not as clueless as the former.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel imagine #angel dust x reader #angel dust x you #angel dust imagine

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sunshinevanfleet · 1 year

Text

karma - j. kiszka

pairing: jake x reader

a/n: hello! i'm gifting you all some enemies to lovers jake smut <3. i worked really hard on this one so i hope it's okay. this one is college!au jake. it's not edited so pls forgive me for any silly mistakes. also if you're sensitive to bullying (not really but? if you squint) then pls don't read. ok love u all!!!

genre: smut (18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT), enemies to lovers

word count: 4.6k

summary: the reader is locked out of her dorm room late at night, with no way inside. her only escape is the man she can't stand, jake kiszka.

warnings: mentions of alcohol, swearing, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, explicit sex scenes, etc.

Karma sure was a bitch.

Sitting in the hallway floor of your dorm building, well past 2 AM on a Wednesday morning, you were beginning to wonder what you did to deserve this. Soaking wet from the rain, missing a shoe, and locked out of your dorm room, you were pleading with every force in the universe for your roommate to somehow miraculously return early from Spring Break to let you into the room. Your phone and keys were locked in the bar that you and your friends left hours before, and you were effectively locked out until you could get in touch with the housing office in the morning. What a wonderful time to be alive.

You debated it in your head; maybe it was the time you laughed at your roommate for falling down the stairs. Or when you refused to give your brother twenty dollars for gas money. Most prominent in your thoughts, though, was when you’d become fed up with your neighbor and hammered on his door to scream at him over the endless noise he made day-in and day-out. Maybe if you had a smidge more patience, you would be able to knock on his door and at least ask for a towel, considering he was the only other person on your floor that stayed at school for break.

A heavy sigh departed your lips as you shifted, leaning your head back against the wall. You closed your eyes, though it did little against the fluorescents in the hallway. A headache pulsed dully at your temples, your mouth dry and your limbs starting to ache after the long walk back to campus. Sitting here, abandoned and helpless was its own unique form of torture. You knew your out. The door beside yours stood there, the thin wood taunting you in its frame. The man behind it, Jake Kiszka, was your natural enemy. The complete and utter bane of your existence. It wasn’t only that he was a pest of a neighbor– fucking and shouting and playing music at all odd hours– he was also argumentative, arrogant, and an absolute fuckboy.

Even before you’d marched to his door and practically beat a hole in it, his reputation preceded him. The amount of girls in your lectures you heard whispering about him was unbelievable. He was the campus heartbreaker. True that he was fantastically attractive, and a talented musician. But from what you heard, and experienced… he was a complete asshole. You’d had your share of questionable interactions with him, and wanted absolutely nothing at all to do with Jake Kiszka.

The last hour sitting in the hallway gave you plenty of time to think over your situation. It was hard to believe that you weren’t getting your divine retribution. Your only escape from sitting in this misery for the next six hours was the guy you absolutely despised. As you sobered up, you understood clearly that you were being bullheaded. Bratty. Stubborn. Wouldn’t it be worse to have to grovel at Jake’s feet?

As you were weighing your options, the sound of footsteps jostled you from your thoughts. You peeled your eyes open, blinking at the brightness as they adjusted. Standing before you was exactly the person you didn’t want to see. Jake peered at you, lifting an eyebrow as he examined your disheveled frame crumpled on the floor.

“What are you doing?” he asked, sounding halfway concerned.

You laughed humorlessly, running a hand over your face. You refused to meet his eyes, instead focusing in on his booted feet. You were sure you were being punished now. This was no coincidence that you were literally at his feet, having to ask for help.

“I’m locked out,” you muttered, voice bitter. “Left my fucking phone and keys at some shitty bar. What are you doing?”

The challenge in your voice didn’t go unnoticed. The corner of his mouth quirked up, a flash of amusement flickering behind his dark eyes. He took a step back, leaning against the wall across from you. His arms flexed as he crossed them over his chest, muscles stretching beneath the skin. You tore your eyes away.

“It’s spring break,” he said, as if that explained it all.

“Hmmm,” you said, nodding. “Off fucking some sorority sister, then?”

Antagonizing him was the last thing you should be doing right now. You were actively aware of that, and didn’t care. A dark chuckle left his lips.

“What’s it to you?”

You shrugged. “Just glad it was in someone else’s room, this time,” you conceded. “Would’ve been a good night for me to get some sleep.”

He laughed again, shaking his head. Jake maintained his cool facade, seeming unbothered by your digs.

“Well,” he sighed, “not that it’s any of your business, but I took a day trip to see my family.”

You swallowed hard. You almost felt a little bad for assuming he was off ruining another girl’s life. You huffed, wringing your hands in your lap. His eyes bore into you, dark irises still flashing amusement as he stared at your pitiful form on the ground. He was pleased, as you knew he would be. He expected the universe to repay you this retribution, and here he was to witness it all.

“Can’t you just leave me alone?” You broke the silence, skin crawling with discomfort.

“Why do you hate me so much?” he wondered. A rage-inducing smirk spread over his lips. You gave him a dark look.

“You really don’t know?” A frown settled on your features. It wasn’t entirely the fact that he was the campus playboy, nor that he was obnoxiously loud with his nighttime escapades, but also that he had humiliated you in front of a dozen people. It was a touchy subject, and there were very few people you brought it up with. Of course, he didn’t remember it as vividly as you did. He was popular, well-liked, and not interested in the likes of you.

“No, Y/N, I don’t,” he said. He sounded truthful, and that made things worse.

You laughed, the hollow, bitter noise echoing through the empty hall. “You made a fucking joke out of me last year, Jake,” you said darkly. “Back at that stupid fucking frat party.”

“You do realize how many frat parties I’ve been to, right? You’re gonna have to be more specific…”

“That Lambda Omega Phi Halloween party,” you muttered, face flushing at the memory. “I don’t know why I even went in the first place. Somehow, Maddie convinced me, and look at me now…”

He frowned, looking seriously confused. “I still don’t follow,” he said.

You forced your gaze up to meet his eyes, shaking your head. You’d cried over the humiliation before, but now there were no more tears. Only anger. You knew he could be an asshole, but you had never expected him to do anything to you of all people. You always kept to yourself, minding your own business.

“It was late,” you began, “pretty much everyone had gone home. There were maybe ten or fifteen of us left. Someone suggested we spin the bottle. Make it a sort of spin the bottle, seven minutes in heaven situation. I was uncomfortable to begin with… Imagine how I felt when you looked at me for a second, and laughed. You said, ‘We can’t invite this one to seven minutes in heaven. Little birdie told me she’s still a virgin.’ Everyone laughed.”

“Y/N–”

“I don’t want to hear your excuse, Jake,” you said, cheeks burning. “You asked me why I hate you, that’s why. And after you said that about me, in front of all of those people, I have to come home and be your neighbor. I wish you knew how that felt.”

He stared at the ground, shaking his head. When he looked back up, the amusement in his eyes was gone. His lips were set in a flat line, expression almost remorseful.

“I was drunk, Y/N, really,” he said, his voice soft. “That was wrong of me to say. Really, I feel like a piece of shit. I only remember bits and pieces.”

“That doesn’t make it any better.”

“I know… I can’t say anything to make things better. I will say that I’m sorry, and I mean that.”

“Okay,” you replied. You didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Talking about it made it more real in your memory. It made things come flashing back: the sound of the laughter around you, the teasing smile on Jake’s lips, your stomach dropping as you realized you were once again the butt of someone’s joke. Once you graduated high school, you thought you were completely done with bullies, but you’d learned the truth that night. You would never be able to escape being teased for your timidity.

“Really, Y/N–” he was almost pleading, his voice much lighter and softer. Strained, as if he were in pain.

“Enough,” you said, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“No,” he argued, “it’s not fair. That I treated you that way. Maybe I had a reason, though…”

You glanced up at him, your brows furrowed together. What reason could he possibly have for embarrassing you like that? You’d rushed out of the party, tears pouring down your cheeks, mortified. There was no reason to justify that.

“I hope it was a really fucking good reason, Jake,” you hissed.

He laughed sheepishly, brushing his hair back off of his face with one hand. “It wasn’t, still isn’t,” he sighed. He refused to meet your gaze, instead staring down the empty hall. “I just– I’d seen you around campus, sat a few rows behind you in Intro to Anthropology, hell, I’d heard you talking or laughing through the dorm wall, and I… I liked you, Y/N. A lot…”

Your eyes widened as he spoke, confusion jumbling your thoughts. Embarrassment bloomed further throughout your body. You practically gaped as he continued, pouring his heart out to you.

“You’re so clever, and you always shared interesting opinions and offered perspectives I hadn’t considered in class… I saw you at that party, and you looked beautiful– hell, beautiful doesn’t even describe you. You were like… some kind of art, just walking around casually. I saw other guys looking at you, noticed them getting excited… What was I supposed to do? I didn’t want any of them to have their chance with you in spin the bottle…”

“You could have just told me,” you said, breathless.

“I realize that, now,” he continued, “but I was drunk. I was jealous. So I did something stupid, and believe me when I tell you I regret it. So much.”

“Even after I tried to break your door down?” you laughed, unable to process the information he was telling you. He liked you? It was surprising enough that he didn’t hate your guts back, but to actually like you? Romantically? He was dropping bombs on you tonight.

He grinned, “Even more,” he admitted. “All those girls I brought home… None of them were anything compared to you… I’m not proud to say that I pictured you more often than not… writhing underneath me, your perfect little blushing face.” He flushed at the very thought, pressing his lips together.

Your heart threatened to burst from your ribcage, beating rapidly. No one ever spoke to you this way. Embarrassment warmed your cheeks, the tops of your ears, and you tried to hide the satisfied little smile on your lips. The situation unfolding around you was surreal. None of your friends were going to believe this when you recounted it to them in the morning.

You didn’t know what to say, so your mind settled on one burning question.

“You really think I’m a virgin?”

He blinked at you, taken aback. For a few beats, the two of you were silent. Then, he finally stuttered out a reply, “W–well, maybe. I don’t know. I just said it to keep those guys away from you.”

A real laugh broke the quiet in the hall this time, and you smiled. The reality had yet to fully wash over you; Jake Kiszka liked you? Of all people. That was something… You shook your head, taking a deep breath.

“Well, I guess I won’t spoil the surprise,” you said, voice teasing as you shrugged. “Too bad I’m stuck out in this hallway,” you continued, “I’m sure you really would like to get to know me…”

Your eyes flicked up to him, a tiny smirk playing on your lips. He rolled his eyes, scoffing as he stepped past you to unlock the door to his dorm room.

“If you wanted to come in, all you had to do was ask,” he said, trying halfheartedly to sound annoyed at you. A satisfied chuckle left your lips, and you stepped inside at his gesture.

“Why would I do that?”

“What? Ask for what you want?”

You nodded.

He smiled innocently. “That’s what good girls do, Y/N.”

You were relieved that your back was facing him. The flustered look on your face would have thrown your game completely off had he seen it.

“Good girls, hm?” you mused, peeling off your damp jacket and tossing it on his desk chair. He flicked on the lamp in the corner of the room, illuminating you in a faint amber glow. His eyes sparkled in the light, watching your movements.

He said nothing, observing you. You glanced around the room, admiring the messiness of the room. There were clothes scattered around, books laid haphazardly on the floor, posters pasted crooked on the wall. Your roommate would never allow your room to look like this. Something about the clutter made it cozier; it just made sense that his room would look this way.

“So this is where you bring all those good girls, huh?” You looked at him expectantly.

He lifted a hand up, scratching at the nape of his neck. He shifted beneath your inquiring gaze, then took a step forward to drop his keys on the desk behind you. You stared up at him, though the glint of his belt buckle at eye-level was rather enticing, you wouldn’t give in so easily.

“You know,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. His fingers traced the line of your jaw, slowly coming to lift your chin. “You look really fucking good from this angle.”

Your tongue darted out to moisten your lips. You tilted your head to the side innocently, fluttering your lashes at him. “You think so?” One of your hands trailed up the inside of his leg, tracing over the denim of his jeans lightly. He shivered slightly beneath your touch, his gaze latched onto yours with an intensity you’d never seen from him before.

“Mmm,” he grunted his approval, then breathed out a few more words, “but I could think of a thing or two that’d make this angle even better…”

“And what would that be?” you teased, fingers inching closer to the bulge straining against his pants. He groaned as you traced the outline with a single finger, barely ghosting over it.

He chuckled, shaking his head at your antics. “God, you’re a fucking tease.”

“Would you rather a tease or a virgin?” you wondered aloud, still fucking with him. Your hand finally palmed his bulge completely, eliciting a lewd sound from deep within his throat. Your eyes widened, saliva pooling in your mouth at the thought of making him whimper and writhe at the faintest touches.

“Fuck,” he grunted as you fiddled with his belt buckle. “What kind of question is that?”

You breathed an amused breath through your nose, shrugging, “Just a question.” A devilish smile danced on your lips. You peeled down the waistband of his jeans and boxers, eyes still on his even as his cock sprang free. His breathing deepened as you wrapped a fist around the base, stroking it with a light touch.

“You’re never gonna let that go, are you?”

“Probably not,” you replied. “You might be able to make it up to me, though…”

Without waiting for his reply, you took the head of his cock between your lips. You let your jaw go lax, your tongue doing all of the work as you took him deeper into your mouth. His fingers pressed into the skin of your neck as he guided your chin over his cock. Jake’s mouth hung agape, eyes almost blank as he watched you suck him off.

A shaky breath stole from his mouth, “Ah, god, you’re fucking good at that…” His irises darkened considerably, going from deep amber to nearly black as lust shrouded his gaze. His lips glistened with spit, mouth open as he tried to steady his breathing. A few grunts and choked moans broke the quiet in the room, accompanied by the slick sounds of your mouth on him.

You pushed yourself further down to the base of his cock, your nose nearly brushing his pubic hair as you took him into your throat. He pulsated inside of your mouth, something like a whine tearing from his throat as you gazed up at him through wet lashes. His other hand tangled into your hair, both of them now guiding you as he gently rocked his hips into your mouth. You bobbed your head in time with his rhythm, relishing in the musical sounds of pleasure coming out of him. As the tip of his cock brushed the back of your throat, you tightened the muscles around him. He growled, the sound sending shivers straight to your center.

You took him deeper, your throat squeezing around the head. He sucked in a sharp breath, and you hummed around him. Tears spilled from the corners of your eyes, saliva dripped over your chin, but you didn’t care. The look on his face was intoxicating; his eyes clamped shut, mouth hanging open in an expression that almost made him look pained.

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m gonna–”

You pushed even further, gagging around him as your nose finally brushed his skin. He gasped, the hand in your hair tightening as he pulled you away unexpectedly. A string of saliva followed your mouth before dripping down your neck. Your chest heaved as you panted, the air cooling the mess on your chin as you stared up at him.

“Made a mess of that pretty little face,” Jake whispered, thumb dragging through the slick on your mouth before dipping in between your lips. You swirled your tongue around the digit, bleary-eyed and lightheaded. His cock jumped in your hand, a sigh escaping his lips at the feeling of you slowly pumping him.

“Mmmm,” you hummed around his finger, bobbing as if you were still sucking him off. He watched you for a moment, transfixed by the filthy sight of you below him. Mascara smeared beneath your eyes, spit glistening on your swollen lips, your cheeks flushed.

“Pretty girl,” he mumbled, “wanna see how pretty you look riding me… C’mon…”

You stood, legs shaky already. He lifted your shirt over your head without hesitation, fingers expertly unhooking the back of your bra. You shivered, exposed to the cool air and his salacious gaze. His eyes drank in your figure for a second. They dragged over your messy face, down your clavicle, and to your exposed chest. He wasted no time in leading you to his bed, your back pressing into the sheets. His lips enclosed around one nipple, fingers tweaking the other as you arched up into his touch, sighing.

His thigh notched itself between your legs, the denim rubbing deliciously against your needy core through the thin layer of your shorts. You rocked against him, desperate for any contact. He smirked against your chest at this, breaking contact for a second. “Needy angel, aren’t we?”

“Please–” you breathed. You bit down on your bottom lip, watching the way he sucked and nipped at the skin of your chest, leaving dark marks on the skin. The throbbing in your center was becoming unbearable, the friction from his leg not enough to satisfy the desperation spreading through your veins. You needed him, now.

“Please what, angel?” He looked up at you, deep brown eyes through a shade of lashes, and your heart fluttered. You had to close your eyes, holding back the moan that threatened to spill from you just at the sight of him. His lips were a swollen, sanguine shade of red from the friction, shining with saliva. His eyes shone dark brown, honeyed like molasses. Damp pooled between your thighs, gluing the fabric of your panties to your soaked core.

You swallowed hard, and managed to gather your bearings. “Please, I need to feel you…”

A genuine smile found its way to his face at this, the cocky look playing in his eyes making you want him even more. If you were in your right mind, you would have scolded yourself for letting him charm you. But it was so easy to fall for Jake Kiszka, especially when he was perched between your legs, looking so eager to please.

“Okay,” he muttered. He leaned over you, lips finding yours in a surprisingly gentle kiss. His tongue delved into your mouth, his breath sweet and addicting as your lips moved together. “Feel me, then, angel. Take what you need…” His breath fanned against your lips, and the two of you switched places. You took a second to peel off your shorts and panties as he quickly undressed.

He watched through hooded eyes as you straddled him. Your thighs were sticky with your arousal already, glistening tantalizingly over your skin. He tugged his bottom lip between his teeth as you pivoted your hips over him, slicking his cock in your juices.

“Don’t be too long,” he whispered. The look in his eyes sent a shiver down your spine; it was as if he were watching his very life-force, the need in his eyes burned hot behind those irises.

A deep breath fanned out of your nose as you finally sank down onto him. You threw your head back, a piercing moan came from you as he filled you to the brim. Tears pricked your eyes at the stretch.

“Jake,” was all you could manage as you adjusted to the feeling of him inside of you.

“Take it, angel,” he said, voice deep and saccharine, “Go on, take what you need.”

You balanced one hand on his thigh as you began to grind against him. Your other hand gathered your hair into one hand, cooling the burning around your neck and chest. He dragged against your walls, the feeling sending sparks all through your body. You squeezed your eyes shut as your clit bumped against his pubic bone. Jolts of pleasure shot through you.

He breathed hard, one hand splayed over your thigh while the other rested behind his head. Low pants and moans spilled from his lips. That attentive gaze drank you in, every little detail carved out of soft flesh and muscle. You saw the way he admired you, and wondered how you didn’t notice it before.

Shifting positions, you lifted yourself up to bounce on him, and he breathed a small whimper. You smiled, leaning over him as you began to lower yourself once again. You maintained a steady pace, fingers hooking through the necklace hanging around his neck to pull his lips up to yours. You panted, sharing breaths for a second before you connected your lips. Bracing yourself against his chest, you increased your pace until you were making your own head spin. He was hitting all of the right spots, stars blooming in your vision as you hastily approached orgasm.

The muscles of his abdomen trembled beneath you, and he groaned as you pulled away from the kiss to breath. “God, fuck, Y/N.”

You smiled, chest heaving with every breath. “I’m almost there,” you whispered, using every bit of self-control not to cry out his name over and over again.

“Shit,” he hissed, as you swirled your hips at a different angle. “I am, too. Let go, for me, yeah?”

You nodded your agreement, fingers pressing into his chest as you lifted up. The room filled with breathless moans and the sound of skin slapping together. You brought your other hand down to your clit, toying with the bundle of nerves as you hurdled towards your orgasm. Your mouth fell agape, pornographic noises ripping through the room around you. Your thighs shook and ached as you rode him through your release, milking every ounce of pleasure out of the man beneath you. He cried out your name in his velvety tone, his body tensing as he reached his own orgasm.

His fingers dug into your thighs as he held you in place, eyes locked onto yours as his release coated your insides.

“Don’t stop,” he muttered, hips jerking into yours as you continued your pace. The muscles in your legs tightened, though the pleasure pulsing through your body shadowed the pain.

“Jake, I can’t—” you mewled, body weakened from your orgasm.

“You can, angel, I know you can…” he whispered, leaning up to grasp your face in one hand. “Keep going…”

“It’s too much–”

“One more, Y/N. Just give me one more.” He pressed his lips against your throat, biting softly against the skin. His fingers dipped between your bodies, rubbing your clit fervently. Your entire body seized, hands holding onto him for dear life. “Come on, baby…”

You cried out his name, moisture pricking your eyes as you rocked against his hand. He was softening inside of you, your walls clenching around him as he coaxed you through your second orgasm. Burying your face into his neck, you whined at the feeling.

“Almost there, baby, I know you can do it,” he cooed, lips ghosting over your jaw, up your hairline, onto your forehead. “Oh, you’re so good for me…”

He made a pleased noise as your release washed over you again, black spots clouding your vision. The sounds coming from you were animalistic, and unrelenting as you sobbed against him. He pressed gentle kisses against your temple and forehead, easing you through the overwhelming pleasure. Your body finally stilled, body going lax against him as you struggled to catch your breath.

“I knew you would be a good girl for me,” he said. He brushed the hair off of your face and neck, gently separating the two of you and laying you down on the bed. You sprawled over the sheets, the air cooling the mess between your legs as you lay there trying to slow your heart rate.

“That was…”

“Mind blowing,” Jake finished for you, pressing a gentle kiss against your lips before pulling away and standing up. He pulled his jeans back on, rummaging around in the room as you laid an arm over your eyes. You let your body relax, muscles aching from the effort of riding him.

After a second, you hissed at a cold feeling between your legs. You pushed yourself up on your elbows, watching as Jake wiped the mess from between your legs.

“Sorry,” he muttered, “didn’t wanna run down to the bathroom…”

“It’s okay,” you relaxed back into the bed again. It was a tad amusing that he kept a pack of wet wipes in his room, but you said nothing. You were too exhausted.

He tossed the soiled wipe into the trash bin by the desk, then flicked the light off. He passed you a t-shirt that smelled like him, and you pulled it over your head. His bed was more comfortable than your own at this point, your mind drifting away already after only a few seconds.

“You all right?” he asked, concern coloring his voice as he settled into bed beside you. You threw one arm over his abdomen, slipping closer to him in the darkness.

“Mhmm,” you replied.

“All right sleepyhead,” he mumbled. He pressed his lips against your temple softly. “I’ll take you to get your shit from the bar tomorrow.”

#jake x reader #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka imagine #jake kiszka smut #greta van fleet x reader #greta van fleet imagine #greta van fleet fic #gvf fic #gvf smut #gvf imagines #gvf x reader #greta van fleet #my writing

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miasmal-sweetness · 5 months

Text

Eye Level

NSFW - MDNI - 18+ ONLY

My brain is currently refusing to cooperate and work on any other writing until I spit out my dumb little one-shot with my favorite trope (size differences) with one of my favorite demons. So here ya go. Hopefully I’ll be back to writing out my planned Cloud fics afterwards.

Eye Level

Summary: Alastor x reader. 4.1k. You're short. You know it, everyone at the hotel knows it. You've assumed that it's some sort of divine punishment for whatever sins you committed while alive, but it's really not so bad, as long as no one hides your step-stool. Today, you've found a new problem with it, though, when you try to get a little closer to your favorite 7-foot-tall demon.

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, dead dove do not eat, size difference (reader reaches Alastor’s hips), smut, reader is gender-neutral with reference to having a vagina, reader wears a dress and bloomers, Alastor being sadistic, reader being a masochist, Alastor calls you “good girl” because I’m a sucker for it

The red light of the sky outside is bleeding in to the hotel, burning your eyes and causing an ache in your head. You want to shut it out, but Niffty is busy cleaning all the windows. Rubbing your right temple, you shift on the couch in an attempt to angle yourself away from the worst of the light as you continue to read your book. The words on the page seem harsher than before against the rough, yellowed pages. In addition to Earth’s actual sunlight, you also find yourself missing the convenience of heading out to the pharmacy to pickup some painkillers that weren’t illicit substances.

“Something the matter, dearest?”

You lift your head at the sound of Alastor’s voice. He’s blocking the light as he stands in front of you, his long shadow easing the pain in your head. You have to crane your neck to look at his smiling face, but you’re used to it at this point.

“Oh, I just have a headache,” you say with a light shrug. “I’m okay. How are you doing?”

“Wonderful as always, darling,” he assures. “Why don’t you join me for a cup of coffee upstairs? I’ve found it works like a charm for a headache.”

You perk up at the thought. It’s a little late in the day to have coffee, but you’re not one to turn down a drink and a snack with Alastor. You take care of most of the cooking for the hotel, since Niffty took over your old job of cleaning, so having something made by another person is a nice treat. Plus, he’s good company—he’s the most polite person you think you’ll ever meet in Hell.

“I’d love to,” you say, sliding off of the couch. You smooth out your dress and tuck your book under your arm; you can finish it another time. Your certain that if you were taller, Alastor would do the gentlemanly thing you see him do with others and link arms with you, but that’s not really possible at your height. Instead, he leads the way by engulfing your little hand with his.

You’re barely focused on the small-talk he makes with you as he guides you up the stairs. His gloves are smooth, and you can feel his claws tickling the skin on your wrist and hand. You know that, as much as Alastor enjoys invading other people’s personal space, he does not enjoy allowing others in to his personal space. Despite this, he has been rather open to your presence; picking you up, holding your hand, ruffling your hair. It feels nice. It makes you feel special—like he’s bestowing an honor on you just by patting you on the head, one that the others don’t get.

You nearly trip over a step, and it snaps you out of your thoughts. Alastor stops you from hitting the ground by extending his arm, letting you put your weight on him for balance.

“Careful, dearest,” he chides, “I’m not always here to catch you.”

Your headache is back, caused by the heat rushing to your face and chest. “Right, thank you,” you mumble, ducking your head. “I-I was just thinking.”

“About what?” You should have seen that coming.

Your eyes dart around as he guides you towards his room. “Uh, j-just—the book you lent me,” you spit out. “I’m almost finished with it. It’s really good.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” he says, holding open the door for you. “It’s not often I meet another down here that enjoys a good book.”

You smile and step in to his room—immediately, you’re hit by the scent of paper, candles, wood that is well-cared for, and decaying leaves and other plant matter. You know his room changes. You know that what you see is different from what the others see when they enter. You’ve heard them mention the swamp that makes up half of the room, often complete with a decaying deer. Every time he has invited you in, however, it has been nothing other than a lovely room that looks like it belongs in some fancy townhome from the 1920s.

Just another thing that makes you feel special.

“If you have a favorite book, I’d love to read it,” you suggest as you slip out of your shoes.

Alastor’s grin grows even wider than usual. “Really? Well, I’ll have to think about it; I have quite a few in my collection that I favor.” It’s a lie, an excuse to put this off for later. There’s something he doesn’t want you to see. You can sense it, deep down in your gut, but you ignore it. He’s always shielded your eyes from the bad—from the gore of Hell, from those that would try to take advantage of you, even from some of the arguments among the others. This is no different.

Moving on from the topic, Alastor snaps his fingers, and a tray of coffee and small snacks appear on his dining table. He’s added cream and sugar for you; he doesn’t understand your sweet-tooth, but he does indulge it.

“Oh, and a treat for you, little one.”

He snaps his fingers again, and when you next blink your eyes, you find that a dish has appeared on the tray. It’s a slice of cake—the same you remember ogling outside the bakery window the last time you went outside the hotel. The hotel doesn’t offer payment for your services, so your measly pocket change was not enough to get it. He must have noticed your longing for that delicious, soft piece of cake. You don’t even remember the last time you had the luxury of cake. The last time was probably when you were alive, and you have the feeling it was one of those store-bought cakes that are dry and covered in thick, sickeningly sweet icing.

This cake is fancy. This cake is fluffy and standing tall, covered in berries and whipped cream with just the right amount of sweetness. And most of all—it means that Alastor paid that much attention to you on a silly outing that he didn’t need to be a part of.

“Thank you, Alastor!”

You throw out your arms and wrap them around him. It’s a chance as good as any. The closest you have come to hugging him is when he’s picked you up and carried you around like a doll. Surely a gift like this means he would be okay with it—although, the second you touch him, you realize you’re probably reading a little too much in to a slice of cake, and maybe it’s because you forgot to eat lunch.

Your arms wrapped around his legs, your feet in between his. And now you remember just how short you are compared to him. Normally, you’re either staring at the ground or you’re turning your head all the way up to look at his face, which makes it easy to forget that your head reaches an… unfortunate location that you have just unknowingly pushed yourself against.

Your face is burning again. Your head is throbbing. If you weren’t already condemned to Hell, this would probably have gotten you in. Your cheek is right against his groin. You fear looking up at his face for a reaction, but you do it anyway and see that, despite his smile, he looks to be just as shocked as you, if not more. And then it changes. The shock is fading. His eyes are getting darker, and that strange look in his eyes—one that you’ve never seen on him—is directed at you.

You force your body in to action. “I-I’m sorry!” you squawk, stumbling away from him. “Um! I-I just—I was excited; I didn’t mean to—uh, s-sorry, sorry!” You’re clumsily making your way back towards the door, nearly slipping from the lack of friction your socks have on the polished floor.

Alastor takes a step closer to you, and you bristle, picking up the pace. “Ma cher, don’t—”

“Sorry!” you cry one last time, slipping out the door and in to the safety of the hallway. You dash to the end of it and around a corner, where you wait to hear any signs of him following. Nothing. The only thing you hear is your own racing heart and the blood rushing through your body. You feel hot, shaky, and a little sweaty—your feet are sweating through your socks.

Your socks.

You forgot your fucking shoes in his room.

Groaning, you sink down to the floor and peel off your socks, freeing your overheated feet. You replay the event in your mind as you stare emptily at your toes, wiggling them all one by one. You just had to go and try to hug him—you couldn’t just be patient and wait for him to one day, just maybe, initiate it himself. At the very least, you could have been more careful. You think it might have been a nice hug otherwise. You can still feel the crisp fabric of his pants and the warmth he radiates; you can smell the light scent of smoke and cologne on his clothes. The button of his pants had been against your cheek, and you have no control against the intrusive thought of how the bulge in his pants had felt.

Smacking your cheeks with your palms, you shake your head, as though it would toss the thought out. You need to stop being a little creep and get your shoes. You have one pair of shoes, and you are not willing to walk barefoot anywhere in Pentagram City. The longer you leave them there, the more likely you are to abandon them entirely in hopes of never having a confrontation with Alastor. Well… maybe you could ask Charlie to get you a new pair of shoes? You groan at yourself; you’re already trying to get out of it.

You push yourself to your feet and dust off the skirt of your dress. You take quiet, slow steps towards his room. You can do this. Just don’t think about it. Did he like it? No, stop it. Did it excite him, like it excited you? Stop that! You’re wet—maybe from fear, maybe from arousal. Your hands are shaking as you reach for the doorknob. You contemplate whether it would be best to knock or simply crack the door open and grab your shoes without entering. Alastor is polite, though; you know he’d much rather you be decent and knock.

Heart racing, chest heaving with tiny and anxious breaths, you tap your knuckles against the door. It opens almost immediately.

“Yes, dearest? Have you calmed down now?”

You can’t bring yourself to look at his face; instead, you resort to looking at your bare feet. “I—um, I realized I forgot my shoes here,” you mumble, fidgeting with the hem of your dress.

He laughs at this—it makes you shiver, and you hope he doesn’t notice. “You were in quite the hurry,” he teases. “What scared you so badly, darling?”

You mean to simply snatch your shoes and flee, but the moment you cross the threshold, he’s closed the door behind you. Your heart is pounding, as though it thinks you’re sprinting down a hallway from a monster. But it’s just Alastor! He’s never harmed you, only kept you safe—and yet, you feel like you’re caught in a trap. You can feel the warmth of his body radiating from behind you; he’s close, and for once, you wish he’d be less comfortable with you in his personal space. Despite this, you can’t bring your dumb feet to move. You are caught like a deer in headlights.

“What’s wrong, pet?” He’s never called you that before. It’s new and exciting, even though you internally scold yourself for the warm feeling building up in the depths of your gut. “Why have you gone quiet? You’re not ignoring me, are you?”

His fingers ghost over your hair as he speaks, his hand finally coming to rest on your shoulder. It’s not as though you’re hiding your discomfort well, but that doesn’t stop him. Alastor’s left hand comes from behind you and cups your chin, slowly drawing you back until your spine touches his leg. You shut your eyes. You won’t look at him; it makes you feel at least a little less exposed, even if you know he can see the red in your face all the same.

“I don’t appreciate the silent treatment, dearest,” he warns, giving your cheeks a squeeze. “I guess I’ll have to find a way to snap you out of it.”

You’re lifted off of your feet; the sudden feeling of instability makes you open your eyes, even though you try to resist. Before you can register it, Alastor has dropped you on his bed—a bed that seems rarely used—and is now kneeling before you.

“You’ve been terribly rude, pet,” he chides, resting his hand on your knee. “First you get so close to me, then you run off and leave me wanting? Now you come back and refuse to say a word to me.” He clicks his tongue in disdain; its the feeling of his claws digging in to your skin that truly express his displeasure. You shift in place, but keep your mouth sealed. Your mind is blank, anyhow.

When his claws pierce your skin, you move out of reflex, jerking your leg away from his hand. Alastor’s grip is iron-clad and holds you in place so tightly that you can’t even move it a millimeter. Your skin feels hot and cold at the same time, and goosebumps are running up and down your arms. Your mind is getting hazy, to the point that your vision blurs as his other hand creeps up the skirt of your dress.

You try to control your breaths, try to look anywhere other than him. He’s relishing the sight of you as his fingers curl around the waistband of your frilly bloomers. He grips your hip harshly—you know it will leave a reminder in the form of a bruise later. His thumb lightly brushes over your clit, and your toes curl in response. It’s like he’s fascinated by the response your body has to it; he’s watching every twitch, shiver, and shake as he toys with you. Finally, a mewl escapes your lips. Something about the noise draws him out of whatever it is that he’s thinking, and he looks you in the eyes.

“I’m nothing if not a gentleman, darling,” he says, relaxing his grip on you. “So… yes or no?”

This is closer to the Alastor you’re familiar and comfortable with. He looks so calm and pleased that it’s like it’s just another day for him, one where he does not have his hand in your underwear and he’s just making you feel special by gracing you with a pat on your head. The familiarity is reassuring, and you’re such a sucker for how special he makes you feel, so surely there’s no harm in this…

“Yes,” you finally eke out.

Alastor’s grin widens; his thumb immediately resumes teasing you. His other hand strokes up and down your thigh, his claws tickling you and leaving red streaks in their wake. You moan again and are met with the reminder of his watchful gaze; unable to take the feeling of scrutiny anymore, you grab the lapel of his coat and tug on it.

You hear him chuckle and crack your eyes open again. He’s released you—for now—to shrug off his coat and set it aside.

“An eye for an eye, pet?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to agree to this suggestion; he pops open the buttons on the back of your dress in one quick motion. Your dress is pulled from your body, leaving you and your bloomers entirely exposed. You instinctively cover your chest with your forearm. This is hardly an eye for an eye—and you know, deep down, that he knows that and enjoys every bit of imbalance between you two. And you do, too, even if you don’t want to admit it.

His hands are on you again, this time running up and down your waist, back, thighs, and chest. He’s parting your legs and moving in between them, leaning down to press his lips to your throat. You whimper, now suffocated by the dizzying smell of tobacco. Alastor gives you a gentle peck, before his teeth graze your delicate skin and earn a moan from you. You instinctively bristle from the delightful pain, and he pushes your legs apart again.

“Relax, sha,” he murmurs against your neck. “Relax. Would I let you get hurt?”

Yes. He absolutely would. You know that, and you stuff it down. Who cares? Who cares if you get a little hurt? If he lets it happen? If he’s the one to do it, if he’s the one watching and enjoying it, that’s all that really matters.

So you relax for him and melt in to his touch, letting him guide you down to the soft bed. You don’t resist when your bloomers come off. You’re completely exposed to him, and he’s simply standing over you, grinning at the sight. The one sacrifice he does make is his gloves, shedding them to feel your skin in its full glory. His hands are much warmer without his gloves on; the feeling of them rubbing your legs is soothing.

“Alastor,” you mewl—for a moment, you realize just how pathetic and weak you sound, but decide that it’s fine to be pathetic and weak for him and slip back in to your haze. For every inch of fog clouding your mind, Alastor seems to gain a new degree of focus. You can’t tell exactly what it is he’s so focused on, so hungry for, but you enjoy it all the same.

“You sound so lovely when you say my name.” His voice sounds so different now—animalistic, growling. Your heart rate spikes again, but you’re not about to back out now, so you enjoy the adrenaline rush as you gaze up at the ceiling. You hear a shift of fabric, feel him moving between your legs as he looms over you. He slips one hand underneath you to feel the small of your back, and you finally realize what he’s about to—

“Ahh!” you hiss, curling your spine as you reflexively try to escape the source of the pain. You’re brought back to the reality of your situation for a brief moment; Alastor is over seven feet tall, you are definitely not, and he is definitely entirely proportionate for his height. It hurts, worse than anything you think you’ve felt before. You feel like you’re splitting open, despite how wet you are and the fact that he’s barely inside of you.

Alastor’s hands hold you in place by your hip and your arm. You can feel his own excitement and agitation from the tightness of his grip—so tight he’s trembling in the slightest—and the hint of sweat on his palms. “Behave, sha,” he orders through his teeth. He’s trying to suppress your squirming as much as possible, but you can still wriggle in his grip, and every movement of your hips sends a wave of pleasure through him. “Relax and behave.”

Your body is slowly adjusting to the pain, and his voice is bringing you back to that lovely, pleasurable haze. You force yourself to stay still and breathe through it.

“That’s it,” he murmurs with a sigh. “Good girl.” You shudder at the words, and he pushes himself further inside of you. You don’t struggle this time; you simply yelp in pain and squeeze your eyes shut to bear it. He releases your arm to grab you by your chin, forcing your head up. You open your eyes, your face contorted in pain; he’s smiling, of course. It’s a feral, sadistic smile, but it’s not quite the same one you’ve seen before he rips apart some idiot trying to wreck the hotel. This one is different, and you hope it’s one he’s reserved only for you. No matter how frightening it is, you’ll still delight in the honor.

You manage to relax a little more, having adjusted to the feeling of being torn in two. Alastor sighs at the feeling and once again pushes further inside of you. Every effort of yours to behave will be rewarded like this—with more pain, blood, and tears that prick your eyes. You had your chance to say no. You still could. But you don’t. You’re special. He wants you. And you want him—you want him to degrade you, too.

“It hurts, doesn’t it, sha?” he coos in a tone of faux concern. Still, you whimper and nod, curling your fingers in to the linens beneath you. “I know, pet, I know. It must hurt terribly.” Another inch inside of you, another swallowed scream.

“P-please,” you beg. You barely even realize the words are spilling out of your mouth. “I can’t—I can’t take it.”

“You can,” he assures, his hand moving down to your throat. No matter how much he wants to, he doesn’t squeeze. Not yet. He’ll save that for another time, another day. There’s nothing wrong with denying a bit of pleasure now to make it sweeter later. “You can and you will. I will make you.”

You try to scream when you feel the sensation of a burning, sharp pain pierce further inside of you, but he clamps his hand over your mouth.

“No,” he breathes. “You won’t make a sound unless you’re quiet about it. I am the only one who can hear you. This is just for me.”

You swallow back the scream; it feels like it’s still stuck in your chest, making it ache as it tries to beat its way out through your sternum. It’s too painful to breathe. Every single movement is painful. This is as far as he can go without really hurting you—without you truly breaking apart. You can smell blood. You feel like you can maybe taste it, too. The sight of it only spurs him on, and he pounds in to you without any concern for the pain it will cause you.

You can’t even scream; it’s too sudden. Once the waves of pain truly set in, you let out a weak cry and grab on to his arms in an effort to steady yourself. Spots of all colors are appearing in your vision as the sounds of the room—skin against skin, muffled groans that he’s trying to hold back, your own crying—get further and further away. Your grip on him loosens, and he notices.

“I can’t keep going if you’re sleeping, pet,” Alastor taunts, grabbing you by your chin and squeezing. When your pupils only dilate further, he takes a handful of your hair and pulls, giving your head a shake. That does it; you’re awake enough, for now. “There you are.”

You can’t escape the pain. You just have to live with it. Any time he sees you slipping out of consciousness, you’re awakened with a sharp jolt of pain. And now his movements are too fast, too harsh to even begin to pass out. Tears freely flow down your face at this point, as freely as the blood pooling beneath your thighs.

“A-Alastor,” you sob, one hand reaching up for him. “Please.”

The pathetic sight of you stupidly reaching for him is what sends him over the edge. His claws curl in to your skin, and blood drips on to the linens beneath you. He’s looming over you as you feel warmth replace the feeling of an icy knife in your belly, spilling out of you and on to your legs. His eyes are closed, he’s panting, and his brow is furrowed. You like the sight of it, but you can’t fully enjoy it when he’s still causing you so much pain.

Finally, his eyes open, and he pulls away from you without warning, sending another ripple of pain through you. You’re throbbing. You feel like you’ve been impaled and suffocated. You definitely did not cum. And yet, when the look on his face softens, the pain lessens. He’s back to the gentleman you know and adore.

“Oh dear,” he sighs, resting his cheek against his hand—a hand covered in your blood. “Let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?”

As he helps you bathe and feeds you a potion to help heal some of your wounds, you let that haze settle in permanently in a part of your brain. As long as he makes you feel special, as long as he calls you sweetheart and pet and sha, you’ll take whatever pain he throws at you.

#dead dove #dead dove do not eat #dark fic #yandere!alastor x reader #mdni #miasmal writes #size difference

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beautysamour · 1 year

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Jealousy, jealousy

Pairing/s: Kenji Kishimoto x reader, platonic!Aaron Warner x reader, Juliette Ferrars x Aaron Warner

Characters: Kenji Kishimoto, Juliette Ferrars, Aaron Warner

Summary: Kenji doesn’t understand how Aaron Warner could be your best friend and not him.

Warning/s: none

a/n: veryyy inspired by aaron getting upset over not being juliette’ best friend so I thought it would be interesting to see Kenji in that position

“Aaron!” you yelled out from across the training room.

You shoved Kenji, who was previously just above you-for training purposes of course-to get up and run over to your best friend.

Aaron let out a sigh and closed his eyes, as if a headache overcame him, before you reached him and started a conversation.

“You know I hate it when you call me by that,” was the first thing Aaron said before you brought up the topic of what you wanted to talk about.

Recovering from getting harshly shoved-and abandoned might he add-by you, Kenji watched as you and Warner fully engage in conversation. All your attention on him.

Kenji was jealous, he’d admit it, it’s a platonic jealousy so there was no reason to hide it. He wanted to be your best friend. He found it the biggest mystery in the world how you and warner became friends, and best friends at that. Kenji would describe you as a sunflower, full of loyalty and someone that everyone adores, just the sight of you is enough to make Kenji feel as if he won the lottery.

And Warner was like a raincloud, dark and violent. So it didn’t make sense.

Finally getting up from the ground, Kenji glanced around the room looking to see if Juliette came with Warner. Once he found her, he walked over to his best friend.

“Hey J,” Juliette was currently stretching, getting ready to start training. She brought her head up at the sound of his voice and a small smile started forming on her face.

“Did you have a nice training session with Y/N?” Kenji immediately regretted coming over. “Same as always,” he says with unneeded confidence, as if he was trying to convince someone that he wasn’t flustered, “Y/N still can’t beat me.”

Juliette snickered at that, “Yeah, that’s why you were on the ground and she wasn’t, because she can’t beat you,” sarcasm obvious in her tone.

“Yes, you’re exactly right,” Kenji replied with the same sarcasm given to him. Suddenly your laugh rang through the entire training room, causing Kenji to tear his gaze away from Juliette momentarily forgetting she was there. Apparently Warner said something hilarious.

“J.”

“Yes?” Juliette paused her stretching to look up at him, he was still looking off to the side to which Juliette followed his gaze to find you and Aaron talking. She stifled a giggle before talking again, “Kenji, are you alright?” This time Kenji looked back at Juliette.

“Yeah, I was just wondering how they,” he gestured towards you and Aaron, “became so close. Has Warner told you anything?”

Juliette gives him a curious look before standing up to speak to him face to face, “No. Never bothered asking, just assumed that, you know, they became friends normally?”

“You’re kidding.”

“No?”

“You never asked? Shit Juliette, you really know nothing about Warner-“

“I know plenty about him,” Juliette interrupted, they’ve had this conversation before, Kenji only uses this as a joke now, “Anyways, just ask Y/N, I’m pretty sure she’ll tell you.”

Kenji let out a snort, “Oh hell no. Absolutely not. We aren’t even that close.” He diverted his gaze from Juliette and forced himself to focus on something else in the room that wasn’t her or you.

Juliette on the other hand kept staring at him in confusion before shaking her head, “Ok…” figuring that this conversation wouldn’t get anywhere, Juliette walked up to you and Aaron; whose conversation just ended.

“Hey Juliette,” you diverted your attention to her as you saw her walking towards you and Aaron and gave her a smile, “we just finished our conversation.” Aaron wrapped an arm around her waist as she came to a stop and pulled her closer to him, you internally rolled your eyes because you loved them together but damn, they really made you feel single.

“I’ll see you later, Y/N,” said Aaron before unwrapping his arm around Juliette’ waist to wrap is hand in Juliette’, “Oh, and make sure to communicate with Kenji. His jealousy is starting to irk me.” Juliette let out a small laugh before the two walked away leaving you alone.

You raise an eyebrow at Aaron’ words slightly taken aback at hearing that Kenji was jealous. You knew Aaron had a gift where he could feel people’s feelings but you weren’t sure how accurate it was. He was always able to tell how you felt though, so you assume it’s pretty accurate.

You flinch when you feel Kenji put a hand on your shoulder. “I’m going to get something to eat, wanna come with?”

—

“So,” Kenji began as you two sat down on a small picnic blanket you brought, “How long have you and Warner been friends for?”

You hide your teasing grin slowing forming on your face as you keep your head down, focusing on unwrapping your food, “About a decade now? Anderson took me in.”

“I know that,” Kenji said feeling slightly competitive towards Warner, he wanted to prove himself to be the better friend, more worthy of being your best friend.

“How’d you two become close?”

You took a bite out of your food, “Well, with both us being kids and under Anderson’…supervision, we’d naturally find some kind of comfort in our shared trauma.”

You started to go on a tangent, revealing your childhood with Aaron and reliving the memories as you spoke. Kenji found himself forgetting about his food and directing all his attention towards you, wanting to hear more and learn more. The more you spoke, the more he realized that he didn’t know much about you, compared to Warner.

He didn’t know that you spent multiple nights alone with Warner when you two were kids, using that time to clean each other’s wounds. He didn’t know that even though you both had a terrible time under his father, Anderson favored you over him. He didn’t know that there was a time Warner hated you for being able to conceal your emotions completely. He didn’t know your last name, your favorite book, your shoe size, your clothing size-he didn’t know what Warner knew.

It made sense to him now, why Warner was your best friend. But instead of the “platonic” jealousy subsiding, he felt it getting worse.

No matter how much you’d tell him, he would never understand like Warner, he would never have that connection that Warner had with you, and it pissed Kenji off to no end. He’d like it blame it on his platonic feelings towards you, that he simply wanted to be the one who knew you most as friends. But he knew that wasn’t the case. He’s had multiple talks with Warner.

“Are you going to eat your food,” you asked when you finished talking. Kenji wondered how many times you’ve asked Warner that.

“I’m offended that you’d even ask,” he took a bit out of food before returning his attention to you.

“Have you ever liked him?”

“Well yeah, he’s my best friend.” Kenji deadpanned at you before shaking his head.

“No- I mean, have you ever liked him.”

“Romantically?”

“If not platonically then how else?”

You rolled your eyes at him before your teasing grin appeared on your face again, “No, never liked him like that. Not my type.”

Kenji internally sighed in relief, “Not your type? You must be picky.”

You chuckled at his words, “Yeah, guess I am.”

Neither of you said another words for a few minutes, simply not knowing what to say next. Based on how this conversation started, you assumed Aaron was right, that he was jealous but if he was right with this then this meant he was right about another thing.

About Kenji’ more romantic feelings for you.

Kenji cleared his throat, catching your attention, “So what’s your type?”

There it is.

“Since when were you so nosey,” you teased, he rolled his eyes and leaned away from you which got a giggle out of you. “I prefer dark hair.”

When he didn’t answer you just assumed he wanted you to continue, so you did, “Saracstic-“

“Warner is sarcastic-“

“Someone who comes off comedic but actually takes things seriously. Someone who people depend on and trust, both kids and adults. Someone who’s always there for other people and fails to be comforted by others because they put on a strong and humorous facade, convincing most people that they don’t need comforting. But that couldn’t be farther from the truth.”

Kenji stayed silent, opting for you to continue. You turned your body towards him and continued, “Someone who, for the life of them, doesn’t know how to communicate properly with the girl they like. They make flirty remarks and act confident but it all comes crumbing down as soon as the other person is serious,” your eyes fall down to his lips, you regret doing so.

You’re taken out of the moment when you hear your name being called. Seeing Castle running towards you two, you stand up immediately creating some distance between you and Kenji. You clear your throat before speaking again, “Yeah, I guess I am pretty picky.” Flustered, you give Castle a stiff nod when he reaches you two before walking off.

After you fully disappear into the distance, Kenji lets out a groan as he palms his face.

—

Aaron began to laugh as you explained the situation.

“It’s not funny.”

“Most definitely is. You’re an idiot, you know that?”

You glared at Aaron as he said that sentence, “What was I supposed to do? Castle was there!”

“You were supposed to tell him to come find you,” Aaron sent you a sarcastic smirk before drinking out of his cup, “So you could finish confessing.”

You buried your face into your hands as you groaned at the memory, regretting not telling Kenji to come find you, “I fumbled.”

Aaron hummed in agreement. “Want me to go get him?”

“No,” you yelled out, panicked. “I don’t want to make the situation more embarrassing as it already is-“

A sudden knock on your door interrupted you mid sentence, “Coming! I’ll be right back.” You jogged to your door, reaching for the door non before you fully reached it. You were glad you didn’t take a sip out of your drink before opening the door because you were sure you would’ve spit it out at seeing who was there.

“Hey,” Kenji said as he stood awkwardly in front of your door, “could I come in?”

As if prepared for this, Aaron slapped a hand down on your shoulder, slightly shaking you, “See you tomorrow, Y/N,” he leaned his head down to your ear to say, “Don’t mess up,” before walking out of your room.

You two stayed standing in front of your door, the silence extremely awkward before you stepped to the side; gesturing for Kenji to come in.

—

“He didn’t even acknowledge me,” you heard Kenji mumble under his breath before turning back to you, watching as you closed your door.

Awkward silence filled the air once again, making you cringe. You weren’t looking at him, you hope that he was here for professional reasons.

“So,” he began, “Warner in your room? Thought he wasn’t your type.”

“He’s not,” you replied brusquely, “Too much like a brother.”

Kenji scoffed, annoyed. You tilt your head up to look at him; confused at his attitude. Did he not catch on to what you were implying when you described your type?

“You know, he’s with Juliette. Having a man, who’s in a relationship, in your room is pretty inappropriate, yeah?”

“Why are you here,” you said trying to change the subject. You heard Kenji mock your sentence. He didn’t answer.

“Kenji,” you walk up to him now standing in front of him, “Why are you here.”

He stared at you for so long you think that he unintentionally was having a staring contest with you. You were tempted to drop the conversation, ask if he wanted dinner and to stay the night as you stared into his eyes. But then you remember that he just accused you of having an affair with Aaron Warner, while yes he’s your best friend, he’s also the guy you fought with after hearing what he did to Kenji.

“Why was Warner here?”

“He’s my best friend.”

“You keep using that as an excuse.”

“What?” You scoff out, quickly getting agitated.

“You look at him as if the sun couldn’t compare to him, you speak about him as if you have a little girl crush, and he’s the only one who knows you-“

“You know me. And you know what he and I have been through.”

Kenji had a smile on his face but it wasn’t endearing at all, no, he looked pissed. On the surface he looked pissed, but in his eyes, his pretty eyes, was a hint of betrayal?

Somehow that only pissed you off even more. What was he feeling betrayed for? He’s never explained anything about him to you, you didn’t know him, and he was upset that Aaron knew a little more about than him?

“Kenji,” you say again, “I’ll only ask this one more time before I kick you out, why are you here.”

It seems that Kenji couldn’t control himself anymore as he dropped his nonchalant asshole persona, “I’m here because I wanted to know what you meant! When you described your type and it was me. I wanted to know what goes through your head every time you see me, I wanted to know more. I wanted to know what Warner didn’t know.”

He took a step forward but that backtracked immediately, slowly regretting what was saying, “I’m jealous, ok,” he paused, trying to figure out the best way to say this, to tell you that seeing Warner come out of you room pushed him off the edge because why the fuck was he in your room.

He failed to notice you trying to hold back a laugh as he got lost in his thoughts, “I don’t get how Warner could be your best friend, I- it didn’t make sense until you explained your childhood with him and knowing that I’d never know you like he knows you pissed me off. It pissed me off knowing that it made sense and that I didn’t understand why you didn’t have a crush on him,”

He stopped for a second, a small pang of jealousy coursing through his veins before continuing, “because it would’ve made sense if you did.”

He looked at you again, waiting to see if you had a response. He fought the urge to throw up when he heard you laugh.

“You’re a fucking idiot Kenji. He was only here to pick up a report from me.”

With your own emotions getting too much to control at finally getting confirmation that he was indeed jealous, you close the distance between you two and connected your mouth with him.

Kenji’ lips were soft. You wanted to keep your lips on his, if you died right now you’d be ok with it as long as the last thing you felt were his lips, and you would’ve stayed like this forever if you didn’t need to breath.

This disappointment was evident on both of your faces when you pulled away.

“You really are terrible with feelings-” he cut you off by bringing you into another kiss, getting a small moan out of you at the feeling of his lips on yours.

He pulled away sooner that you’d like, a frown immediately shows up on your face while a smirk forms on Kenji’.

“You know I may understand why Warner is your best friend, but I definitely don’t like it.”

You laugh again, “Why, you want to be my best friend?”

“Well you kissed me. I’m assuming that I’m more than that.”

“You assume too much then,” his smirk immediately disappears at your words while a smile shows up on you.

You lean in for another kiss; softly pressing your lips onto his. “Kidding, I want you to be more anyways.”

#kenji kishimoto x reader #kenji kishimoto #shatter me #kenji kishimoto imagine #kenji #kenji kishimoto x you #Kenji kishimoto fanfic #kenji kishimoto fanfiction

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loving-august · 2 years

Text

๑𓈒 ' . 𑇛 I'D STILL CHOOSE YOU.

PAIRINGS. diluc ragnvindr x fem! reader

SYNOPSIS. in which diluc notices your worries about the people around you.

GENRE. angst to fluff hurt/comfort

WC. 1.05k!!

WARNINGS. none, slight profanity, insecurity, gossips, bodyshaming

NOTES. hello! this fic will be new expansion to my fandoms hehe I hope you guys will like it just as much I enjoyed writing this fic. blame diluc bc of him I made a decision to create for genshin characters smh /j + reblogs are highly appreciated!

LINKS. navigaion | genshin impact masterlist | taglist form

๑𓈒 ' . 𑇛 REBLOGS ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED!

Being the richest bachelor in mondstat, Diluc is expected to do what nobles do. The way he greets, acts, and accomplishes every job perfectly. He received a vision at the age of 10 and became the youngest captain in the knights of favonius at the age of 14. Of course, he is now just a mere businessman taking care of the winery in the morning or protecting the entire mondstat at night time. His past is yet to be told.

Rich parents of noble women across nations often visit him in hopes to have their daughter as the groom. Yet, he refuses to tell them as he tells them that he has no sole interest in having a relationship with any women. Or so he thought.

You happened to see him in his dark knight duties one fateful evening. You were ambushed by hillichurls while you were on your way to the outskirts of mondstat, your home. You came out from work a bit too late than usual.

You accidentally punched him as you thought it was some treasure hoarder coming at you. You apologised so sincerely that it wasn't some bad guy.

"Master diluc?" You asked.

Shit. He cursed himself.

"Than-"

"Don't say a word about this." He sternly said. And you did.

You scratched your neck awkwardly, "I will. Thank you again!" You walked away from him. To be honest he was scary earlier, barbatos how could this happen to me?

Little did you both know, a certain bard was witnessing the scene. A playful smirk grew into his face. "Huh, may the wind guide each other." He whispered. It's a rare scene to see Diluc in this kind of situation. Maybe the dear archon barbatos, also known as venti would be part of playing cupid.

A time has passed since your first encounter with Diluc, Venti's cupid duties came into reality. He was very happy for you and Diluc and he even played a small tune for the two of you. As much as Diluc appreciated the gesture, he would not change the way he treats venti in his tavern due to his wine addiction. As well as Kaeya, the wonder duo never fails to give Diluc a headache.

Soon enough, you opened your eyes to the noble world. There is a lot of catching up to do. All the stereotypes were shown on to you, the mannerisms on talking, acting, and greetings to fellow nobles. It was hard. As someone like you had no experience on such acts.

You found yourself in your shared rooms with your lover. With your eyes all puffy and red due to crying. You couldn't take it anymore.

"How can Master Diluc find someone so…common.."

"I expected him to choose a noblewoman from liyue."

The voices of other people in mondstat broke your heart. To hear such a thing about Diluc, you felt responsible. Instead of making him happy by his side, you could only be giving him a bad name by just existing beside him.

It felt so wrong.

What you didn’t was that you fell asleep on the vanity where you cried yourself with dried tears on your cheeks.

Diluc just recently returned home from his darknight duties. You were completely aware of his schedule as if its the back of your palm. Why would you know all about it? Of course diluc would tell you things about him, he’s that devoted to you. Adeline, the head maid of the manor, greeted the master of the manor. “Good evening Master Diluc.”

“Good evening to you too,” Diluc greeted back.

He went straight to your shared rooms, not giving any mind of eating for tonight. He was busy eliminating abyss mages around mondstat. When he opened the door, first he saw you sleeping uncomfortably on the vanity table. He immediately removed his coat and placed it on some chair and carried you carefully. Making sure that you were not awake. How long have you been asleep? Your neck is probably sore because of the restricted sleeping position you were in.

He sighed as he saw you still in your morning clothes. He can’t imagine wearing all the heavy clothing from daylight to night time. That's why you've woken up? "Did I wake you up darling?" He asked.

you got up and he followed. "No, you didn't. I just felt my position changed." You groggily replied while rubbing your eyes.

Diluc was observing you. He noticed that you were secretly wiping off the direct tears on your face while pretending to rub your eyes after you had just woken up from a long slumber.

He was worried. Maybe he has been busy lately since he has a wine business to attend to. Not only the wine business but also his secret duties at night time at mondstat. The abyss order has been showing up lately.

"y/n, can I ask you a question?" He started. You looked at your hands, not looking at his worried eyes laid upon you. "uh, sure. What are you trying to ask?" You replied.

Something is not sitting right. The way you said it was as if you changed your sentence and the way you speak. this is not the y/n he used to talk to. A hint of guilt punched at diluc. He HAS been busy. He should reschedule his time for you after this. He felt accountable for your well-being, since he was the one who asked you to live with him and as his lover, it is his duty to take care of you.

"Is something bothering you lately?" He asked. There, he asked for it. Although he expects you to lie to him. You can't lie to him after all.

"No, nothing's wrong dearest, I'm just tired..that's all," you answered and gave him a small smile.

Diluc uses his thumb to wipe off rye excess tears from your face, "No you're not. It breaks my heart whenever you lie to me. Tell me the truth my love, whatever you say is valid, after all it made you feel this way," He slowly opened his arms for you to be able to rest on his chest while wrapping his arms around you, "if you feel like I'm slipping away from you, don't worry."

"I'd still choose you."

#๑.made by aug #diluc ragnivindr x reader #genshin x reader #diluc x reader angst #diluc x reader #diluc x you #diluc x y/n #genshin angst #genshin impact

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ihatedtoadmit · 9 months

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The Windows To My Soul [3]

pairing: OT8 x fem! reader

genre: soulmates, angst, fluff, crack

warnings: Please read the 'Summary' of this series, all are listed there!

word count: ~2.8k

summary: Everything is starting to escalate in a way you start questioning if you haven't just fallen into a fanfiction somehow, or maybe the kidnapper had just gotten you and this is all a weird dream.

↳ Masterlist ↳ Next chapter ↳ Previous chapter

I couldn't help but lightly rub at the aching area, playing it off as me fixing my tight turtleneck that suddenly felt a bit too suffocating.

Or so I thought I played it off, right until I saw Minho talk to Chan, the latter now worriedly glancing at my direction and walking towards me. I furrowed my eyebrows as I just watched him, a bit bothered that I understood no fucking word of their conversation still.

"Before we get comfortable and start chit-chatting, we should treat your wounds, Eevee. Where did ya hurt yourself?" - he asked, suddenly kneeling in front of my taken aback form.

I furrowed my eyebrows even harder, because I didn't really feel any pain besides my chest and ever worsening headache. And knowing my body, the former was simply bruised, thanks to my overly sensitive skin.

"You fell pretty hard ya know, there's no way you didn't get hurt from that. Now, show it, before it gets worse, please." - he voiced his concerns, as if sensing my immense confusion.

I looked at my palms instinctually, having landed on them and sure enough, they were scraped and even slightly bleeding. Lightly feeling up my arms for any other injuries -because i couldn't see them from my clothing-, I recoiled when I’d pressed onto my left elbow. I most probably landed on that amidst the harsh fight for my life, so I wasn't truly surprised.

"Can ya roll up your sleeves at all?" - he asked, but I could only shake my head, much to his disappointment.

He dragged a hand across his face and sighed, before meeting my gaze once again.

"You'll have to take it off then."

His tone was as sorry as it could get, but that didn't help my widening eyes and the surprised, strangled sounds that kept dying in my throat before successfully escaping.

"J-just to assess your wounds, I swear! Nothing more!"

The others were snickering at our expense.

Friendship was truly wonderful.

But then I realised something.

"I… don't have any other clothes with me…"

He muttered something under his breath that I couldn't quite catch, his eyes seizing up my form and then his bandmates'. He talked to Hyunjin for a bit, the blackett standing up and disappearing down the hall. Not even a minute later he’d returned, a baggy hoodie in his arms, stretched out towards me as if it was an offering.

I confusedly pointed to myself, but he airily chuckled and nodded, offering the piece of clothing to me once more. I took it hesitantly, thanking him and looking back at Chan for further instructions or any form of much needed guidance.

Thankfully, he knew what I wanted and told me where the bathroom was, even pointing in its direction. It was right across the room, the first door on the hallway. I retreated there with the provided hoodie -it was a nice shade of red-, my mind going into overdrive.

Oh god, I was about to wear an idol's hoodie.

What in the wattpad fanfiction was this??

I exhaled, the air coming out shaky and uncertain. I tucked my necklace under my turtleneck and pulled the fabric over my head, nearly unsuccessful in my struggle, although in the end I ended up wrestling it off of my form, thankfully. It was always a harsh battle of survival, one that I’d almost lost way too many times.

After my eventual success, I put down the dark clothing next to the sink, only seeing that as a big enough place to hold the fabric. Before I could grab the hoodie I’d been offered, my eyes noticed my reflection in the mirror and I muttered a few lines of curses under my breath. All in my native tongue, because that language had spicy curse words.

My whole left elbow was purple, a few spots turning almost black. The bruise continued down to my lower arm as well, but in a lighter shade, thankfully. Experimenting and prodding around lightly, nothing seemed broken or out of place. Just really, really heavily bruised.

I couldn't let them see this, they would think I was dying and start panicking, fuck.

I knew my body and thus I knew I was fine, I just bruised way too easily. Grip me hard enough and I would sport a dark bruise there the next day. Normal people weren't like that, but I didn't mind, shrugging off the random bruises I kept finding on my body regularly.

It was all fine, up until that point, that is.

Quickly scanning the rest of my upper body in the mirror, I found no other injuries, which made me let out a big sigh of relief. But… if my ribs weren't bruised, why did my chest hurt? My heart was fine, besides the slightly higher pulse. But that was okay, I was nervous in the presence of goddamn idols I looked up to!

The entire situation confused me, but I knew if I took any longer, they would start worrying and come find me, if not already. So I quickly pulled on the hoodie after fixing my mask, its form engulfing me like a blanket. The arms weren't short either, which was a nice surprise, seeing as I was just a tad bit taller than Hyunjin. His broader shoulders must have balanced it all out.

Smiling, I took my turtleneck and quickly left the bathroom, making a beeline for my bag that I’d left near the front door. After swiftly stuffing the clothing in there -a hard battle-, I hurriedly strode towards the chatting boys, gathering their attention.

"Yah, you look cute in Hyung's hoodie!" - Jisung chirped in, sounds of agreement quick to follow. "N-no, you must be seeing things wrong, very wrong, but thank you for letting me borrow it. It's really comfy." - I waved my arms in defence, embarrassed as their expressions merely turned even more teasing at that, weird enough. "Nah, they're right, but come sit back here so I can look at your arms now."

At the voice of Chan, I immediately did as I was told, not wishing to inconvenience or anger him. He gently started rolling up the right arm of the hoodie, slightly grimacing at the sight of my scraped palms. He pulled out some cotton swabs and disinfectant, warning me that it would sting. I silently nodded, knowing fully well it would, but I didn't mind. It didn't hurt that bad anyway.

After cleaning it out, he started rolling up the hoodie's other sleeve. When he first saw the lighter bruising on my lower arm, his eyebrows furrowed, but the more he saw, the more his eyes widened and his complexion paled.

"Jesus christ, we need to ice this right now. Don't move." - he said with a clear voice, the others watching in horror as they had a full view of my arm now.

"Holy shit Eevee, why didn't you say something earlier?!" - Felix shouted in english, worry dripping from every word. "It didn't hurt, okay?? I'm sorry, I didn't feel it! But it's fine, nothing's broken, I just have sensitive skin. Believe me, please." - I pleaded with him, with them, trying to calm their worries uselessly.

Before I could utter another word, Chan was back, a big ice pack and a cloth in his hands. He instructed me to straighten my arm and I did so, his hands swiftly attaching the ice pack to my arm with the long piece of fabric.

"Is it not too tight?" - he asked and I shook my head in reply.

A sigh left his lips as he looked up at me, and I couldn't help but protest, trying to salvage what I could of the chaotic situation.

"I really do have sensitive skin! I already checked in the bathroom, I could move my arm just fine and nothing felt out of place. My bones are fine, trust me." "I still want to have a doctor look at you though. That should have been our first action, but I wanted to take ya away from there as fast as possible, with the way you were shaken up." "No." "Wh– What do you mean naur?? Eevee, it's your health on the line!" "Tomorrow then… I don't think I could handle anything more today."

His eyes were adamantly looking at mine, a gaze of steel. But eventually, he relented with a sigh.

"Fine, but first thing in the morning we go to a doctor. Only because your arm felt fine, and I trust you did NOT lie about that, yea? Now, bow your head down a bit, lemme check it."

I was surprised he let up so easily, but I could see the exhaustion creeping up on him and I didn't dare not follow his words, as weird as it all felt.

He stood up and leaned down to gently card his fingers through my hair, stopping only after he was satisfied when he didn't find anything.

I tried not to think about it.

Truly, I tried not to.

"Great, now…" - he straightened up and trailed off as I looked up at him.

Following his line of sight, I found myself staring right at my legs.

"I was hoping you would forget about that." - I muttered, glaring at the ground in defiance.

Because of course my knees would be hurt and bruised too, I’d fallen on them as well. But I didn't exactly have a goddamn change of pants on me, to change out of these tight jeans into, now did I?

"No, nono, shh, how about we untie my left arm until I go and check my legs for any injuries? I can't fucking ask you guys for pants too, I just can't. Please?" - I pleaded with him, only seeing him nod with slightly red ears as he untied my arm and I hurried out of the room.

The others were snickering and I could NOT face them. No way in hell. I knew how big of a tease they were, and only at that moment was I happy that I didn't understand any korean at all.

Because Jisung howling along with Hyunjin could only be bad news.

I hurriedly closed the bathroom door and did as I suggested earlier, finding only a few spots of lighter bruises on my knees. They weren't scraped, I could bend them just fine, so I’d quickly put my pants back on and left the room.

Thankfully they were done with the teasing, but I still saw the aftermath of it.

A really flustered Bang Chan.

He was tugging at his ear when he saw me, beckoning me over even as he tried to not meet my eyes as much.

What the fuck did they say to him?

I raised an eyebrow at the others, giving them a slight side-eye, when Felix erupted in a shout of 'BOMBASTIC. SIDE. EYE.' and they started howling with laughter again.

"How are you still sane with them?" - I couldn't help but ask Chan, turning back towards him. "Honestly, I'm not sure anymore." - he sighed, but you could see the adoration for them in his eyes.

Truly, a father of 7 kids.

"Anyway, any other injuries?" - he asked, tying the ice pack to my left arm once more. "Just some light bruising on the knees, I'll survive. Thank you so much."

He waved me off and sat back down into his seat with an exhausted huff, watching over the chaos. But as a fan, I could tell that they weren't at their full potential. Either from exhaustion or something else, I couldn't tell.

They were still at the side eye meme, what did they smoke, I wanted to know.

Jeongin met my gaze and stood up, walking over towards me and sitting down right next to my very puzzled form. I watched him, confused, not knowing what he would want from me.

"You like pokemon?"

Aaah, that made sense. His accent was cute as he was trying to speak in english, my mouth curving up slightly as a result. I nodded back at him, immediately getting the question of what my favourite pokemon was.

"Hmm, that's a hard one. Maybe Mimikyu or Dratini? They're so cute. But I never really played any pokemon games, so my knowledge on them is a bit rusty."

He gaped at me as I heard several offended gasps around the room, apparently gaining the attention of everyone with that one, deadly sentence.

"What do you mean you haven't? What did you grow up on then??" - Felix asked, hopping next to me on my other side. "...Spyro the purple dragon?" "Okay, you are forgiven."

I couldn't help but laugh at him, how his arms were crossed as he nodded approvingly, as if he was an approving parent.

A little tap on my shoulder gained my attention, Jeongin pointing at me and my headphones. I didn't even notice I still had them on, I must have put them back around my neck instinctually having been done with changing clothes, the device’s weight comforting.

"And you like music?"

Ooohh shit, I was hoping we wouldn't go into this territory. The guilt from earlier reared its ugly head up full-force now, but I nodded at his question nevertheless, already knowing what their next question would be.

"What kind do you listen to?"

I almost gave the gut response of 'Stray Kids', because that was what I had been listening to actively for the past years. But I stopped myself in time, looking at him with a blank stare.

"Uuuh, lots, like j-rock, fantasy music, soft rock, anime music–" "YOU WATCH ANIME?!" - Jisung had nearly fallen out of his seat, eyes locked onto my surprised form with a big grin.

Taken aback, I leaned a bit back as I nodded, accidentally bumping into Jeongin. I apologised, but he didn't mind as he steadied me, leaving a hand on my shoulder even after I’d righted myself.

"Sorry, sorry, but what kind? Which ones? What's your favourite? Do you also watch Ghibli? Which movie is your favourite?"

And the conversation derailed into the topic of anime, mainly powered by the quokka and sometimes me, if we were talking about a particularly dear anime to my heart. The others added in their parts too, after all, Jisung was not the only weeb in the group. Just the biggest.

But after god knew how long, I’d gotten a question I never wanted to get.

"Did you come here to get some anime merch? I have some great shop recommendations, if so!"

I blinked, my mind coming to a halt.

Suddenly, I was hyper aware of who I was talking with, who were sitting in the same room as me, sitting next to me. I knew who they were, their ages, what they liked and disliked, hell, even who had what kind of pet. But they didn't know that.

It felt like I was committing a crime, lying to them. Even though they saved me and helped me so much.

The air had gotten stuck in my throat, no amount of gulping unlodging it from its resting place. Everything felt hot, as if I was suffocated from the weight of my sins.

I couldn't do it anymore.

"I-... I actually came for a concert. I apologise for not telling the whole truth before, I swear I didn't do it with bad intentions. I'm a STAY, I know who you all are, I love listening to your songs, and my reason for visiting Japan was for your concert. You can hate me for lying, be angry at me or anything else, I just didn't want any of you to feel pressured to act like an idol in your resting time. You can take my phone away, check for any photos, videos, I don't care, I swear I didn't take any. I'm so sorry for not telling you sooner, I really didn't mean anything bad!"

I was definitely rambling halfway through, my thoughts jumbled and overlapping. It was a miracle I didn't switch languages through all that, even as the speed of my talking increased to a dangerously high degree.

I simply sat there, rigid, my knuckles turning white from how tight I was closing my fists together. I didn't dare look at them, the ground much more interesting as I tried my best not to cry or pass out from the lack of air. Maybe I could miraculously suck my tears back in if I tried hard enough, so I wouldn't sit there with glossy eyes.

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brokenjere · 2 years

Text

strangers again (c.f)

synopsis: REQUEST - Can i request something too?

For Conrad x reader

Enemies to lovers/Friends to lovers

But reader is sick and Conrad taking care of her

Jeremiah’s name lights up on her phone next to her head, making her eyes hurt even behind her eyelids. She answers it with a groan and Jeremiah’s laugh cuts clear through it. “Whoa, you sound horrific,” he says. “Where are you?” She pulls her phone away from her head to check the time. She’s late. She’s been dozing in and out of sleep all day, trying to clear the headache that’s been forming in her brain. It was getting so bad, she started to feel nauseous and had to turn off all the lights. She didn’t even think to call Jeremiah and tell her she wasn’t going to be at the party.

“I’m sorry, J. I have a migraine. I’m feeling really sick, I’m not gonna make it,” she tells him. He sighs on the other side of the phone. It didn’t say I’m annoyed at you, it said that really sucks.

“Do you need me to come tend to you, little baby?” He asks as a joke but she can’t laugh. Jeremiah is a good friend to Yn. He always has been. She tells him no. “You sure? I can bring some Midol, and get you some ice-cold water. Lay with you while the lights are all off and pluck my eyelashes out from boredom?”

“I’m okay, Jere.”

“I’ll send Conrad, okay? He’s not coming.”

She quickly tells him no. She says it so many times Jeremiah laughs. “I’m serious. No.” The last thing that would fix her headache was Conrad Fisher but Jeremiah insisted so firmly, she conceded. She doesn’t have the energy to argue. “He can’t stay,” she says.

“Okay. I’ll send him over and I’ll see you tomorrow if you feel better?”

“Yes, I’ll see you tomorrow.” They hang up the phone and she closes her eyes again. She sees Conrad’s face with a red aurora around it. They used to be friends, her and Conrad, but now she would do anything to stay as far away from him as possible which sometimes proved difficult considering he was her best friend's brother but she still tried. She’d dodge him at the house whenever he entered the room, claiming a full bladder or that she needed to go home. Jeremiah let her pretend and never says anything to her. He still tried though like he knew something she didn’t.

She hears the front door open and shut and a voice calling out for her. Despite it being distorted and uiet, she knows it’s Conrad. She doesn’t speak because it hurts and lets him find his way to her bedroom. He flicks on the light and she throws the covers over her head in defense. “What the fuck is your problem?” She curses under the covers.

“What are you cussing at me for?” Conrad asks. She hears a plastic bag rustling and it makes her temples ache.

“Didn’t Jeremiah tell you I have a migraine? Why would you turn the lights on like that? And would you please stop fucking moving that bag around?!” She flips the blanket off of her head. Her eyes sQuint at the bright light above her head and she tries to focus them on what’s going on around her. He’s standing by her bedroom door with a grocery bag in his hand filled with God knows what. He’s smiling like he enjoys seeing her this way and she grimaces at him.

“Sorry, didn’t know I was walking into a hornet’s nest,” he quips. She narrows her eyes, no longer having to uint and he walks toward her. “Are you going to be nice and let me take care of you or is this a drop-and-go operation?”

“I’d prefer if you dropped and left,” she tells him. He pouts and she thinks it’s fake but when he sets the bag down on the bed and doesn’t open it, she wonders if he really does want to stay. And that pisses her off. “What do you have to prove?” She asks.

“What do you mean by that?” He furrows his eyebrows but doesn’t look at her. He pulls out a bottle of ibuprofen and cold water bottles and set them on the bed. Yn could feel the cold through her blanket.

“You don’t need to sit here and take care of me, you know? I can do it myself.”

“Lord knows that’s true,” he mumbles under his breath. He pulls out an almond Hershey bar. Her favorite chocolate. She tries not to think about it.

“What does that mean?”

“You’re allowed to make snippy, inconspicuous comments but I’m not?” He finally looks at her, throwing down a rag he took from her kitchen. It hits her leg and she glances between that and his face. It’s twisted in frustration. “I don’t have to mean anything by what I’m saying.”

“But you do mean something by it. You always mean something.”

Conrad scoffs and crumbles up the bag making her wince. She curls back up in her bed and kicks the stuff he put on the bed to the floor. He laughs but it’s not a happy laugh. He’s mad and she feels good that she made him feel that way. “You really are a piece of work, aren’t you?” She doesn’t want to but she peeks over her shoulder to see him bending down and collecting the stuff off the floor. She looks away before he can catch her. “I can’t believe Jeremiah still puts up with this shit.”

“He doesn’t put up with anything,” she mumbles. She closes her eyes and squeezes them shut so tightly to block out the lights he still hasn’t turned off. “He wants to be my friend. Just because you don’t doesn’t mean that other people agree with you.”

She can feel a fight coming on. One that she’s been trying to avoid for months and that, right now, she does not have the energy to participate in. Conrad opens the ibuprofen and shakes a few out into his hand. “Can you take some of these?” He asks her quietly. When she opens her eyes, his palm is outspread in front of her face with three white pills inside. “I have water.”

“I don’t want that right now.”

“Don’t be stubborn.” She groans and sits up against her pillows, snatching the pills

out of his palm. He twists open the cap of the water and hands it to her once she pops the medicine onto her tongue. He watches her intently as she washes them down. “Good job.” She rolls her eyes at him and sinks back down into the bed. “Who said I didn’t want to be your friend?” His voice is softer now with a level of concern she hasn’t heard from him in a while.

“You did, remember? When you told me not to talk to you anymore?” He doesn’t pretend to not remember. He just nods his head and sits on the corner of her bed as far away from her as possible. She was sure if he touched her she’d recoil away from him so she’s grateful he doesn’t make her do that.

“You know why I said that,” he whispers. He looks down at his lap and picks at the loose fabric on his sweatpants. She didn’t notice them before now. They’re ratty and old and she doesn’t remember ever seeing them before but it makes her wonder if he ran out of the house before getting ready.

“I don’t,” she says. “And can you please shut off the fucking light?” Conrad laughs a little bit. It’s a laugh that comes from deep inside his gut. It’s the kind of laugh Yn used to crave to hear and now it makes her stomach hurt.

When the light is off, instead of sitting back down on the bed, Conrad grabs the rag and bottle of water. He gets it wet and asks her if it’s okay if he puts it on her forehead. “The cold might make you feel better,” he suggests. She nods her head and then says yes aloud when she realizes he couldn’t see her. He sits closer to her now, his hip pushing against her side. She doesn’t recoil away from him but she notices it more than she should.

They don’t speak to each other as he presses the rag to her head but she can hear him breathing. She can feel his hand shaking. Her lips get dry and as the water drips down the side of her face, she feels like crying and she’s not really sure why. She wishes Jeremiah was here instead. She wouldn’t be so worried about his hip against her body. She wouldn’t be thinking about his hand shaking and wondering why it was shaking. Jeremiah’s hand wouldn’t be shaking at all. He was sure. He was so sure all the time it was why he was her rock. Conrad was never sure. That was why she couldn’t be around him. He made her feel uneasy.

When the rag gets too warm to be helpful, he puts it on her side table and dries the water off her forehead with his shirt sleeve. “How are you feeling?” He asks.

“Fine, I guess. Thanks.”

“Can I tell you something?”

“If you have to,” she says. She doesn’t mean to be rude but the talking made her head worse and if she didn’t have to, she didn’t want to. “Sorry,” she mumbles.

“I asked Jeremiah if I could come over,” he admits. She wishes she could see him but she knows that the fact they were in the dark and couldn’t see each other was the reason he just told her that. It was the reason they weren’t at each other’s throats right now. It didn’t feel real. “I wanted to take care of you.”

“Why?” Her voice cracks and her heart starts to race. She swears he can feel it in his legs from all the way in her stomach. Her nerves ran that deep.

“You know why…” He trails off.

“You keep saying that I know but I don’t. I don’t know anything. You, Conrad Fisher,

have always been an enigma to me.” Their entire relationship had been on the Conrad timeline. They spoke when he wanted to, hung out when he wanted to, and didn’t speak when he got in his moods. He was hot and cold and she just wanted to be there until it became too much. She know nothing when it comes to him.

The sensation of his hip pressing into her side changed to his thigh. The heat from his body went from the side of her to on top of her and when he speaks, his voice is closer than it was before. “I want to take care of you because I love you. I can’t talk to you because I love you and I can’t love you. You know I can’t love you.”

Her head is pounding but her heart is pounding harder and instead of worrying about the pain in her temple, she grabs his face and kisses him. He kisses her back like he’s been waiting for this moment his entire life. He leans into her, pressing his hands into the pillows on the side of her head as he deepens the kiss. He kisses her so hard, she forgets she’s in pain.

When he pulls away, her lips tingle and she presses her fingers to them. They’re wet and hot and she feels herself smile. “Are you okay?” He whispers to her. He puts his forehead against hers and she imagines him sucking the migraine out of her head. She nods. “Do you still hate me?”

She doesn’t answer right away. She puts her fingers to his face and feels for his lips. They’re stretched out in a smile and he kisses the tips of her fingers. She can feel his cheeks are hot and she trails her nail down to his jawline gently. She wants to remember how he feels in case she can never touch him again. “I never hated you, Conrad.”

#tsitp #conrad fisher #the summer i turned pretty #conrad fisher x reader #tsitp imagine #conrad fisher imagine #tsip conrad #conrad fisher fluff #conrad fisher one shot #conrad fisher fic #tsitp conrad

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