#or maybe I should take a knife and drag it across my throat?

[shovlison]

Assessing whether nuking this account and disappearing from social media by crawling into a cave and never coming out, is a proportional response to falling asleep during a discord call and being kicked out because I was “dozing off” as @jamesvowles VERY KINDLY put it…

@raewritesf1 @champselysees @aliassimes

Please don’t kick me off the group 🙈🙈🙈

[pbuckets-5]

uconns lost player part 2

authors note - hey y’all i’m back

warnings - angst, SWEARING, alcohol, fluff if you squint, smut if you reaaaally look

be prepared

21 - gracie abrams

i see the look in your eye and i’m biting my tongue

the sharp echo of the ball slamming against the wood floor echoed through the gym, each bounce sending a shock through your body. you freeze, clutching your basketball under your arm like a lifeline.

“long time no see,” nika’s voice rings throughout the empty gym, the ball momentarily stopping. another pair of footsteps pad across the gym floor, coming to a stop with an abrupt squeak.

“y/n.” geno’s voice cuts through the charged air like a knife, his words sharp, as if he was about to coach you.

you spin around on your heel, smiling sheepishly. your cheeks flush pink, the two combined gazes making you shrink. “uh.” you start, stuttering. “hi?”

after what felt like hours of hard labor and repeated shots from all over the court, geno finally released you with a slap on the back and a note from him clearing you to the nurse to begin to play again (involuntarily). nika walked out with you, an eerie silence falling between you.

she tentatively reaches out to touch your arm, stopping you in your tracks. you stare at one another for a moment before she speaks up, her voice hoarse from the hours of exertion.

“you know..” she begins, clearing her throat. “paige misses you. i don’t know how she’s going to react when you come back. just, please, don’t pull the bullshit you pulled again. you know that’ll break her.” she pauses, as if she almost regrets what she’s thinking. the silence falls thickly between you, the air charged with unspoken words. “you should really come back to kk’s apartment. it’s where the girls are celebrating.” she pauses after seeing the totally mortified expression on your face. “just.. try.”

and that’s how you found yourself slumped in the front seat of nika’s car, the music playing quietly in the background as she talks about the game. “you would’ve loved it,” she says, a soft, nostalgic smile on her face. “you would’ve dominated.” she says, tearing her eyes from the road to look at your slumped figure. you wondered if she could see your racing heart or maybe even read your mind.

“eyes on the road!” you say, gesturing for her to look back to the car in front of us. “oh gosh!” you say, straightening in your seat. you can’t help the small smile that graces your cheeks, glancing over at your closest hoop buddy.

“i know how to drive, dipshit.” she says, grinning wider now as she pulls into the all too familiar parking lot leading to kk’s apartment.

your heart suddenly leaps, and you realize what the fuck you’re actually doing right now. you’ve just dug yourself a 6 foot hole, and you’re about to jump into it when you step into this apartment.

“fuck.” you murmur, climbing out of nika’s car. you could immediately recognize multiple cars in the parking lot as many that you’ve been in before. you followed behind her like a lost puppy as you stepped into the elevator, counting the seconds until your heart goons into cardiac arrest.

as the two of you step out of the elevator, nika places a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “it’s going to be fine. everybody misses you, anyways.” she says, flashing you that grin.

you smile back, trying to ignore there way your stomach twists as you take steps closer to the apartment. you can hear laughter and the bustling sounds of movement from outside, even from down the hall. you trail behind nika, hiding behind her broad shoulders as she pushed the door open.

the conversation falls for a moment, then quickly replaced by cheers.

“how was private torture with coach?” kk bounds over, seemly not noticing you as you fall back, even farther behind nika. you sag by the door, a blank but clearly terrified look plastered on your face.

nika drags you in my your wrist, and you can hear the gasp that echos through the room. all heads turn towards a slumped blonde one, her braids as always perfect and her usual bubbly self dimmed.

kk was the one to save the day, a broad grin spreading across her cheeks as she envelopes you in a hug, her arms squeezing you. “oh my god! i haven’t seen you in ages!” she squeals, squeezing the literal air out of you.

“yeah.” you croak out, wrapping your arms around her. “i haven’t seen you in a while.” you shoot nika a death glare for dragging you here, something that used to be your safe haven but was now a hell-hole.

she let’s go, finally, and bounds to the other side of the room, her radiant energy drawing everyone’s eyes to her. they were all obviously intoxicated, the room scattered with beer cans.

“paige!” she says, and you can feel your heart drop. all eyes turn to you as the color drains from your face, quickly then returning with a flushed hue. this is the closest you’ve been to paige since the accident, and your heart was already pounding out of your chest.

when she looked up, her red-rimmed eyes met yours with a look a pure shock, then betrayal, and then absolute admiration. you couldn't tell if she was mad as hell or proud to see you up again.

a snort escapes azzi's mouth, and a roll of her eyes only confirmed her feelings about you. "the fuck is she doing here?" she hisses, her eyes narrowing down on your shrinking figure.

"azzi." nika warns, her tone sharp and motherly. "enough. she's joining the team again." she says, wrapping a protective arm around your shoulders.

you couldn't wipe the way paige's face contorted at the sight of you. her mouth dropped open in shock, her nose crinkling slightly, something she does when shes happy, her eyes widening. the look was enough to leave you shaken for a lifetime, especially since she was still staring you down with the same look.

annoyance flashed across azzi's face, her eyebrows furrowing in anger. "we did just fine without her. why does she need to come back now? just because paige didn't drop 30 on a few games? it's not like she cared any sooner." she ranted, her voice droning and painful to listen to.

the room fell deathly silent, so quiet that you could literally hear kk's breathing.

your face flushed pink. "i think i'll go." you murmur the first words all night, spinning on your heel and ignoring nika and kk's protests, and azzi's obnoxious laughter.

you shut the door behind you, exhaling deeply and leaning against the wall. you try to calm your twisted stomach, or your racing heart, but that only picks up when you hear the door click open beside you.

a tall, very drunk blonde steps out, her bright blue eyes landing on you. before you have time to react, her lips are pressed against yours, a satisfied sigh slipping past her lips.

your eyes widen, but you don't pull away. this is the sole thought that's starred in your head ever since paige had finally left you alone. you thought that's what you wanted.

your hands slide to the nape of her neck, playing with the ends of her ponytail. her large hands slide down to your waist, drawing mindless shapes through your t-shirt.

"m' sorry about azzi." she mutters, pulling away for a moment, taking a deep breath. "i'm just glad you're back. i missed you." her voice is tinged with sympathy and a mix of desire.

"missed you more." you say.

last thing you remember from last night.

you wake up in a frenzy, peeling open your eyes in a too-familiar bed. "shit!" you hiss, throwing the blankets off you. you scramble the floor for your clothes, picking up discarded items and throwing them on. a rustle from the bed reminds you of what a painfully awkward situation you're in.

paige groans, then gasps, a horrible sound cutting through the silence of the apartment.

"y/n?!"

[xanaxiii]

"PUT ME IN A MOVIE"

cw: ENGLISH ISNT MY FIRT LANGUAGE, slightly smut, suggestive themes, fluff, a little bit of angst, logan is grumpy and old, dom/sub dynamic, pet names, no use of y/n, sexualization.  

words: 19k 

an: treat it as a halloween special. first i was planning to write something with van helsing but ended up with this. i'm not complaining tho.  

𓆩♡𓆪

The pain in his spine was making him unable to live today. His aching knees seemed to burn more than usual. He woke up with a migraine, piercing his mind from every nerve. He would have liked to spend the whole day under blankets, hiding from the oppressive sunlight that wanted to penetrate the thick curtains into the bedroom. But he knew he couldn't. One bloody day off and everything would collapse. 

He came back late. Two days before October 31st, one of the worst days of his job. Driving someone there, picking someone up here. It was exhausting. The pain in his body didn't help, it only made things worse, making Logan especially unpleasant today. 

As if he wasn't always like this. 

He barely dragged himself out of the car, slamming the door behind him. He bowed his head to look at which button he locked the car with. He didn't have his glasses with him, and even if he did, he wouldn't put them on. It would only make his already strong migraine worse. 

His steps were slow, his breathing heavy. He grabbed the house keys from his back pocket, turning them in the lock, finally finding himself in the only place where he truly felt safe. 

However, because of his bad condition, everything bothered him here too. It was evening, so it was normal for you to turn on the lights, but their glaring, yellow color tormented his eyes. The radiators on made him hoarse, when suddenly his throat became dry. He rubbed his face with his calloused hands and, not bothering to look for you around the house, headed straight to the living room. He had no intention of struggling even more and climbing the stairs, only to collapse on the bed. He could just as well have just slept on the couch, he's sure you would understand that. 

As he walked, he noticed your silhouette bustling around the kitchen. Curiosity got the better of him, so he turned his steps in your direction. He leaned against the door frame, squinting as you carved out the pumpkin. He tilted his head, wondering why you were even doing this? It was late, almost night. You should be asleep. You should at least be in bed, not playing kid. 

“...What are you doing?” His gruff voice pulled you out of your own little world, forcing you to take your headphones out of your ears and look at Logan. A smile spread across your face as you set the knife aside and ran over to him. 

“I missed you, Logan,” you replied, snuggling into his tense arms, wrapping yours around his waist. He wrapped his arms around you, running his hands through your hair, gently scratching your scalp. When you pulled away, you grabbed his arm, leading him to the kitchen counter. 

“I thought we could decorate the house a bit this year. I started carving faces into pumpkins, I don't even remember when I started... maybe you'd like to help me?" - your tone was sweet, encouraging. You took one of the still untouched pumpkins in your hands, showing it to Logan. The bright, orange color contrasted with the dark green of the leaves and the stem. Logan tilted his head to the side, placing his large hand on the pumpkin, pushing it down. 

"I'm tired. You probably are too. You shouldn't worry about such nonsense, so late at night." - saying this, he put the vegetable on the counter. He buried his hands in your hair again, pulling at the long strands. 

Your lips twisted into a grimace. You stepped closer until your chest brushed his. Lifting your head up to look him straight in the eyes, your gaze became more pleading, slightly offended. 

"You're a terrible grump, Logan. Please, at least this year be a little more willing to play...” - you mumbled, looking at him from under your eyelashes. “...If you insist, I'll lay down but only if you come with me and let me finish carving tomorrow morning. And help me with it.” - you added, your tone becoming more demanding. Logan knew there was no point in arguing with you. He would say it was quite annoying how stubborn you were. But also adorable. 

“Fine, fine. I'll let you play the little, annoying girl. But don't drag me into this. I'm not cut out for things like that.” - with that, he reached up and grabbed you by the waist, lifting you off the floor. His bones cracked, he felt the painful tension in his knees but he ignored it. With you in his arms, he carried your, compared to him, small body to your shared bedroom. 

At this point, he just needed sleep. Knowing that he would be interrupted by embarrassing nightmares, he needed you by his side, to him quickly lie down so he could at least get a few hours of sleep. He looked at you, the way you were snuggled into his chest made warmth spread through him. 

It was amazing to Logan how it was possible that someone as sweet and young as you could put up with a man like him. Old, neglected and with a hell of a lot of trauma and problems on his back. It was like a miracle to have you here. The fact that you appeared every time he needed you the most. It was like you were a guardian angel over him. 

*** 

In the morning, Logan woke up alone in bed. He rubbed his rough hands over his face, looking around the room. There was no sign of you anywhere, which meant that you had somehow gotten up before him. Logan clicked his tongue, finally getting out of bed after a few sighs. His feet landed on the wooden floor, muscles immediately tensing. He stood up, wondering several times whether to just stay in bed and wait for you to return. But to be on the safe side, he preferred to check if everything was okay. 

He narrowed his eyes at the sight of several finished pumpkins standing on the dining room table, their carved faces staring at him with mockery. He snorted, shaking his head. You were impossible, special. He couldn't remember the last time he celebrated anything in a big way. But suddenly you appeared and renewed every tradition in his long life. He remembered his last Halloween well, spent among the rest of the mutants, when the residence still existed, when everything was still normal. At that memory, he felt a pang deep in his heart, which made him take a heavy breath and walk down the hallway, setting his sights on finding you instead of thinking about the future. 

He found you, sorting candys into bowls, taking a few out of the package, dividing them into categories that Logan didn't want to think about at the moment. Oh, no, his thoughts were now filled only with the sight of you. He had gotten used to the fact that you usually wore clothes that were quite fitted to your figure, not very revealing, but inviting, but this? 

That had to be the sexiest zombie costume he had seen in a long time. 

Your hair was tied in two, loose ponytails, tied with black ribbons, frayed at the ends. Your makeup was sweet, despite the green paint on your face and on other visible places, your cheeks highlighted with a pretty shade of pink, your lips full and painted in a candy color. The black sweater was tight in every place it should be, and the skirt barely covered your ass. The knee socks squeezed your thighs. You looked like a sinful fantasy that Logan had an appetite for. 

 He stepped closer, as quietly as he could to sneak up on you. He aimed and slapped your butt, making you squeak quietly, turning to face him. You bit your lower lip at the sight of his emerging wrinkles around his mouth and eyes, as a rare smile appeared on his lips. A gentle one, but it didn't change the fact that the corners curved. 

"You're up." - you mumbled, running your eyes over his undershirt that hugged every inch of his body, paying special attention to the veins on his arms, more visible than ever. You swallowed dully, trying to focus your attention on his face. 

"Is that your costume? I have to admit, you've got talent. But there's no need to dress in this the day before, is there?” he asked, his fingers tightening around your waist as he tugged lightly at the scratchy material of your sweater. He had to check if you had also chosen matching underwear to go with your outfit. 

“I wanted to see how I look...and get used to it. And don't worry, I've got something for you too.” - a smile spread across your face. You slid one of your hands under his undershirt, making him shiver slightly at the sudden warmth. 

“I told you, you don't have to drag me into this.” 

“Oh, but! Don't you even want to see what I've prepared?” 

Your tone. Again, so sweet and pleading. You knew he couldn't say no to you, especially when you spoke in that certain way. He sighed, allowing you to show him what kind of costume you wanted him to wear. It could be anything, Logan knew your imagination had no limits. But he wanted you to understand that he was...too old for all this. It's not appropriate for him to dress up and scare others. 

Although he wouldn't complain if you did. He'd love to play the big bad wolf and little red riding hood with you. He could actually suggest that for next year. 

You went back to the bedroom. Logan leaned his back against the wall, looking shamelessly at you as you bent down to find what you were looking for in the closet. Your miniskirt lifted up, revealing pretty, pink panties in black dots. Logan licked his lips, fighting the urge to take you from behind. He'd like to see how those sweet ponies would bounce with each subsequent thrust. 

You pulled out a lab coat from the closet, covered in fake blood in several places, matching pants and a shirt. Black, slippery gloves, most likely a toy syringe. Logan came closer when you signaled him with your hand to do so, your eyes twinkling with happiness and love. He couldn't resist, he placed his hand on your shoulder, squeezing it a little, leaning towards you. 

"I thought since I'm going to be the dead girl, you could be the mad scientist. You know, I think these gloves would be especially good for you," you explained, lifting your head to make eye contact. 

His eyes moved to your full lips, then returned to your eyes. 

 "I only wear this to please you. But definitely not now and not today..." - he whispered, lightly pushing you, you leaned back against the closet door behind you. He knelt down in front of you, lifting one of your legs, throwing it over your shoulder. Your foot in a soft stocking pressed into his back, and you leaned your head back, already recognizing how this would end. 

"...L-Logan...don't destroy..." - he interrupting you, teasing your needy pussy with his thick finger, a wet stain appears on the material of your panties, forming under his touch. 

"Oh, don't worry, doll. Nothing will happen to the costume, I'll take care of it." - after this, he inhaling your arousal scent, mingling with the aroma of your strawberry perfume. You were so responsive that he could get to almost unlimited access. 

He lifted his head, catching and memorizing the expression on your face, how your cheeks were flushed, enough to show through the colors of your makeup. Your legs trembling, eager for his next move. 

"So eager. Did you do this on purpose, huh? Want me to fuck you. I promise you, tomorrow night you'll be so fucked, you'll forget about this whole celebration. You're my sweetest candy." 

His words only fueled the fire inside you. A moan ripped out from you effect of the coldness between your legs appeared as he was lead down your panties, leaving it wrapped around one ankle, parting your pussy before he disappeared between your thighs. His gray beard scratched your thighs and his talented tongue made you scream with pleasure. 

Your thoughts were burning, completely absorbed in what going on now and what Logan would do for you on Halloween night. Your head was swarming with many ideas which escaped through the window with each lick of his tongue. 

[portraitsofguilt]

your heart doesn’t forget:

so many things have happened in the last half hour that you have been down here, from being threatened with a gun, seeing a military corporal get a bullet through his head, and then be taken up to the third floor of the mansion because el sin nombre wanted to see you for themselves and what you were about.

“i wasn’t expecting to see you again.” the sicaria says after sending all the guards out and pulling a chair opposite of you, intending to take a seat. you shake your head and furrow your brows, not fully understanding what she is trying to point out. she in a sense seemed familiar, but you could hardly place her anywhere in your life where the two of you might have met.

you couldn’t make sense of her features when you told her that the two of you had never met, so that might be a clue why. she didn’t seem hostile, just... sad, maybe it was the way she looked like she would fall apart at any moment or the way she seemed to hold herself upright despite how weak she looked. she opened her mouth as if she was trying to say something but didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

she stands up from her place, pulling the knife from her belt and you flinch back in fear, rattling in your seat. maybe you should have stuck with the knowing part, rather than continue with the truth and nothing but the truth.

"no reason to force something if it was so... forgettable for you." she mutters, taking an exaggerated step forward. you brace yourself, holding your breath, wondering how she's gonna end it all for you. just a stab to make it quick? a slash across your throat to see you suffer for something you couldn't help? you didn't know but you knew you weren't ready for any of it.

but the pain never comes after you screw your eyes shut, waiting for the blade to slice across your neck and the warm blood to pour over your hands, to feel how much it hurt, but there is nothing. just the pain around your wrists disappearing and something light dropping onto the floor. you open your eyes to see her standing there, looking at you with no malice or anger in her face. just pure sadness. 

she sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose while putting the knife back on her belt.

"go... go before i regret letting anyone see me like this." she mutters under her breath, walking over to the window. the sunlight catches her skin beautifully, causing it to glow a soft pinkish shade and you think she looks so... perfect. you feel an aches forming in your chest, something tugging on you to look away and it almost feels like you are drowning, but...

you can't be caught up in all this, you have to go and help the others- you have to find el sin nombre.

"tu corazon no olvida." the sicario murmurs, looking at the sky and you are halfway out of the door you were dragged through when you hear it, the voice of a lover.

"mi escorpion?" simple words that spoke louder than any book or history, because your heart just simply, doesn't forget.

a/n: can you tell i might be losing my mind? YES YOU CAN TELL PLEASE ALL THESE CHEESY STUFF OR WHAT NOTS, anyway... uhm... hope you guys liked it, thank you for reading !!!

[ierr]

can you make a fic about choso fucking you in a scream mask for halloween it would mean so much i literally love your stories 😭🙏🏽

❝ 𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 ! ❞ － 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 𝐊. 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓

⇨⚠︎︎ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 !¡⚠︎︎⇦ mask kink, knife play, rough sex, degradation?, top!choso, bottom!reader, black!reader

𝐀𝐍. SOOOO SOOOO SORRY THIS IS LATE, I’ve been working a lot and writing a lot so I just needed a tiny break but i am back now! I was meant for this to get done ON halloween but I didn’t have enough energy to do so but pretend this is on Halloween, BUT IM SO GLAD YOU LOVE MY STORIES 😙 enjoy my spooky ghost 👻.

𝐮𝐩𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬!! - once I hit 1,000 followers I will do a face reveal In one of stories 🙈, I will not be writing smut for awhile and gonna start writing more fluffy stories and maybe angst. LASTLY, the racer series will continue back up again but not till either December or January. THATS ALL!

WARNING IMPORTANT MESSAGE AT THE END OF STORY!!!.

— 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎

When you told Choso about the idea he thought you went crazy. He knew your love for horror movies especially the Scream series, so does this surprise him? Kind of! But realistically no. It was obvious that you had a mask kink by the way you would giggle and kick your feet every-time Ghostface came onto screen ಠ_ಠ. So when you came to him about the Idea he was shocked at first but decided to desire your dirty little fantasies of him fucking you with the scream mask.

It’s been a good awhile since you came to Choso about the Idea, wondering when the day he would do It and well…he decided to do it halloween night. Honestly you’re a forgettable person so you forgot you even came to Choso about the Idea! Till he came out of nowhere behind you covering your mouth with a very sharp knife to your neck. Your eyes widened thinking It was someone robbing you till you felt those familiar muscles flex behind you, calming down a bit, you huffed but soon gasped feeling him pull your head back more against chest with the knife pressed up against your neck, not enough to hurt you of course but enough to make you intimidated. Your hands clenched around his bigger arms feeling his bulge press against your ass just aching to get released, you moaned softly into his hand feeling him buck against you, Choso had a small blush on his cheeks but luckily the mask covered it all giving him an advantage to do anything to you without your teasing.

“You like this?.” He whispered deep into your ear feeling you nod against his chest, but that wasn’t an answer. He groaned a bit pressing the knife against your throat a little harder with a tsk, “That’s not an answer baby..” Your eyes went wide feeling the tiny blades scratch against your neck whimpering from the hold he had on you, “Yes.” Your small little yes was muffled from his hand but he heard it, smirking underneath his mask. He kept a firm hold against you still having a tight hold on you. He hummed trailing the knife across your neck, “What should I do with you, huh?” He questioned tilting his head a little looking at you through the mask, “Should I make you beg for it? Scream for it?.” Your legs were getting weaker and weaker by the minute he kept whispering into your ear, you didn’t think he would take the role this seriously but you’re loving it..you couldn’t say a word except grumble into his hand, Choso smirked underneath the mask, “Hmmm..I have a better Idea.”

“I wanna hear you scream.”

And that’s what exactly what he did. The minute he dropped the knife, and dragging you to your guys shared room was the moment you realized you’re gonna lose walking privileges, when he threw you onto the bed he looked down at you like he was stalking..hunting. It scared you bit especially knowing his height. His height and muscles put everything together making him more intimidating than he already was, you moved up the bed as he moved closer stopping you Into your tracks as he gripped your ankles dragging you down the bed making you squeal. To make this more interesting, you fought against him kicking your legs to get out of his hold but the weight on your ankles increased practically pinning you to the bed. Choso took this as an advantage to crawl onto the bed getting on top of you, you looked so fucking cute underneath him.

By the way he was tilting his head you knew he had that cocky grin on his face. You moved your thighs together to get pleasure on your lower area, It’s been aching ever since you felt his bulge on your butt. You were soaking through your panties and you know Choso knew that too, he looked down to see you rubbing your legs together continuing to make eye contact with him with a bitten lip. Fuck. He clicked his tongue with a low hum trailing his hand to your pj pants putting his hand inside without a care in the world using his middle finger to feel how wet you are, you twitched feeling the single finger rub against your clit, moaning from the pleasure. Choso chuckled keeping his eyes on you as he continued to rub your clit nice and slow, you were already so wet. Choso staring at you with the scream mask on turned you on even more, your little mask kink was putting you to work.

Your back arched off the bed a little feeling him slide his middle inside you starting to thrust slowly. Your eyes fluttered at the feeling, bucking your hips up against his finger, you whined. “I want more..please give me more.” Choso tilted his head at your widening with a small smirk, he loved the feeling of making you whine for more, “More? You sure you want more?” He asked and without hesitation you nodded your head not thinking about the consequences. Once he saw the nod of approval he removed his finger from your pussy, instantly ripping off your pants to expose your lower area, without a doubt he went to unbuckle his belt letting his pants drop to the floor along with his boxers taking his cock into his hand stroking it slowly, lining it up with your hole, he cursed underneath his breath feeling how warm you were as he slid into you.

“Fuck..” He mumbled thrusting at a slow pace to let you get used to it, Choso was a big guy which meant..his cock was also big making you hiss slightly feeling him slide himself all the way In. After a few seconds he started to thrust at a steady pace soon picking the pace up, gripping your hips Into his hands feeling how tight you were getting. Moans and skin slapping were the only things being heard throughout the room, by the way Choso kept looking down at you with the mask was gonna make you cum instantly. Your nails digged deep into the covers feeling his thrusts get more harsher and deeper making tears prick in the corner of your eyes, Choso tooo notice if this smirking behind the mask as he continued to slam his hips against yours, “You like this? You like getting turned on by a mask?.” He panted with a weary chuckle seeing how much of a mess you were becoming underneath him, you could barely keep your eyes open as you stared at up at him. The look you were giving him made himself go hard, growling as he thrusts harder and deeper, your eyes snapped open as more tears pricked in the corner of your eyes feeling him pick up the pace, “W-Wait!- Choso-.” You couldn’t finish your sentence before a loud moan interrupted feeling your knot start to form, the pleasure was turning into pain but It was good pain.

Choso didn’t care about your whines or begs for him to stop, he continued to thrust deeper and harder also feeling his knot, “M’finna cum..fuck. Is this what you wanted? Huh?.” He said breathlessly throwing his head back letting a moan fall, “Finna fucking breed you baby..oh f-fuck.” He groaned deeply feeling his orgasm hit filling you deep with his cum soon after hitting your own orgasm, you moaned loudly letting your eyes flutter close twitching from still feeling him cum inside you. After a few seconds and slow thrusts he pulled out, taking off the mask to look at you with a soft look, “Did I go too rough?” He asked , with a small chuckle you shook your head tiredly reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck pulling him closer to your face, “It was just how I imagined.” You replied, Choso sighed in relief leaning more into your touch, “I’m glad you liked it.”

“Little freak.”

PLEASE READ!!

So I have recently discovered a very hateful message on my dashboard with one of my stories and I wanna say this is NOT okay. If anyone has a problem with me writing ONLY black readers please keep it to yourself, I’m not gonna show the screenshot because It’s really sickening and disgusting but please, I don’t want my tumblr space to be full of hate or rude comments. I want my community to feel more included In fanfics since there’s not that many which is WHY i’m only writing black readers, again my space is for anyone but PLEASE don’t say hurtful things.

[lovebittenbyevans]

A Love Rekindled | Part 4

Summary: It has been two and a half years since you and him have seen each other. As you and Oscar Piastri crossed paths with each other again – you both start to wonder if the love you both had for each other truly faded

Pairing: volleyballplayer/ex-boyfriend! Oscar Piastri x Female Reader

Warnings: one cursed word

Author note: This is the last part of the mini series.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Part 4

Four weeks later

Maya tried to drag you to another volleyball tournament but you were not in the mood to travel anywhere. You had to put your foot down with her and set boundaries.

You wanted to be left alone and not think for a second. You don't like when your brain constantly has all these thoughts going through your head. It makes you feel numb.

You appreciate Maya always including you in almost everything she does but you were tired of being the third wheel of her relationship with Lewis. It was like she doesn’t know how to be without you while being with him.

You were setting the oven to three fifty degrees while the tv in your living room was loud. You grab the pan of brownie on the counter as you hear the doorbell ring.

You were not expecting anybody unless it was Maya. George was not home so you had the apartment to yourself. You placed the pan in the oven, closing the oven and then you pressed the button of how many minutes you wanted it.

“Oscar Piastri, how are you going to get better in the future?” A reporter asked him.

You look at the TV across the living room. “Well, I just got to work hard and put in all my effort. I always rewatch my old videos to see where I did wrong.”

When you hear a knock on your door, you continue to listen to him speak. You went directly to the door and answered it, noticing Oscar standing there. “Uh..hi.”

His hands were shoved in his blue jacket pocket as he clears his throat. “Hi, Y/N.”

“Um.” You paused for a second. “Don’t you have a game today.”

He nods. “Yeah but I came to talk to you first.” You step aside to let him in. You almost ask him how he found your apartment but you remember he was with you when you got it years back.

He stepped past you taking his shoes off. “Something smells good.” You closed the door and went straight to the kitchen. “Yeah, I’m baking brownies.”

“Ah, my favorite.” He looked around your apartment for a second and then sat on the chair stool in the kitchen.

You press the oven light button to check the brownies. “What did you want to talk about?” You turned around and looked at him.

“Would you like to go on a date with me next month?” He let out a nervous breath.

You raised an eyebrow. “Pardon me? A date?”

He ran his hand through his hair. “Yeah, I figured we get to know each other again.”

You chuckle a bit. “Um, what about your volleyball games? They are more important than being on a date with me.”

He brushes you off. “Y/N, are we really going to go there? Again?”

You shrug and turn around, seeing the number on the oven going down. “Oscar, all I’m saying is maybe we should do baby steps.” Soon, the oven noise stopped, and you turned it off before removing the pan and placing it on top of the stove.

“Look, I’m not pressuring you but baby steps are fine.” He said honestly

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. Your heart was racing a bit as you felt eyes burning in the back of your head. “You want brownies?” You were trying to calm yourself down.

“Three please.” He says.

You grab the knife next to the countertop and begin cutting the brownie into square pieces. You place three brownies on an empty plate then hand him the plate. “Here you go.”

“Y/N.” Oscar took the plate from you as his eyes were still fixated on you. “If you don’t want to, it's ok. I’m used to being rejected.”

Your eyes look at him. “What? No I–” You grab another plate placing two brownies on it. “I’m just scared like I told you.” You walked to the chair stool and sat down.

“What are you scared of? Hurting me again?” He sat down next to you.

You sigh, taking a bite of your brownie. “Look, I love you but hurting you again is the last thing on my mind.”

“Then what is it?” He wiped his mouth with a napkin.

You clears your throat while trying to think about how to say this. “I don’t want to run away from you and do the wrong thing. I want to be all in with you but I need baby steps first. I don’t want you to miss any of your games, I just want to make sure I’ll fit right on your schedule Oscar.”

Oscar gently intertwined his hand with yours. “We will figure it out.” He grabs your chin making you look at him. “My schedule can wait just for a moment.”

“A–Are you sure about this?” You pushed your empty plate back. Your tone was a bit nervous.

Why the fuck are you nervous?

He brings your hand to his lips and presses a kiss against it. “I’m sure, babygirl.”

You tried not to smile but failed. “Ok, I’ll try not to back down this time.” He smiled as he drew you close and crushed his lips on yours.

“That’s all I ask of you.” He mumbles against your lips.

[midgardian-witch]

La Plus Belle Des Malédictions

You're of House Harkonnen, arch nemesis to House Atreides. Your mission was simple: get close to Duke Leto Atreides and end his life.

Your mission was not simple.

This is my Secret Santa gift to the amazing and lovely @winniethewife 🎁

Inspired by the song Ma Meilleure Ennemie by Stromae & Pomme

AO3

tags: Harkonnen!Reader | female Reader | enemies to lovers (kinda) | enemies and lovers | star-crossed lovers | slight angst | knife kink (if you squint) | hopeful ending

ships: Leto Atreides/Reader

word count: 1k

She can't do it.

Maybe her parents were right. Maybe she was too weak. Who in their right mind couldn't find the power to strike down their sworn nemesis?

She was a disgrace to House Harkonnen.

Everything had been planned meticulously. Every gesture, every longing look, every curious tilt of her head. Everything had been choreographed to perfection.

Months of work ruined by her treacherous heart.

What proud child of House Harkonnen would fall in love with an Atreides?

Her hands grip the railing of the balcony, knuckles turning white with fury. How could she be so weak? Love was not part of her vocabulary. Feelings like this were supposed to be locked up or stomped out like a spark that could turn into a wildfire.

And yet.

Realization had hit her when she saw him across the room. He had stood tall amongst the other members of his house, his uniform hugging him in a way that should be indecent. His hair was meticulously combed back, his beard trimmed to perfection and his eyes.

His eyes are her favorite part of him. Such a deep, beautiful color. And the way he commands a room with just a look. She's sure any person would feel weak under that glare.

But the way his eyes lit up when he saw her across the room - that's what plunged a dagger into her heart. That sudden ache of realization. To finally be able to put a word to the feeling that had been haunting her since the beginning of her assignment:

She's in love with Duke Leto Atreides.

A death sentence to a Harkonnen tasked with ending the life of said duke. Unless she went through with it, thrust the dagger hidden under her skirts between his ribs, slash his throat and make her house proud.

The thought alone makes bile rise in her throat. She can't do it. She can't.

So she averted her gaze and hurried away to her current hiding place. The balcony is empty save for her thanks to the strict adherence to decorum of the Houses Major. It’s a beautiful evening, the pale moons of this planet giving everything its light touches an eerie lilac glow - so different from her home.

She lets herself have this one moment to dream, to fantasize about running away with Leto to a planet just like this. Without the uniform, without the shine and shimmer of jewelry and medals, nobody would know who they were. They would simply be two lovers. Nothing more and nothing less.

Tears gather in the corners of her eyes as she weeps silently, grieving a future that would never be hers. Her heart skips a beat when she hears a familiar voice speak her name.

She doesn't dare to turn around.

Duke Leto in all his glory steps behind her, one hand resting on her hip, the other on her hand gripping the railing of the balcony.

“What has you so terrified to flee from the ball, my darling?”

She takes a shuddering breath, desperately trying to compose herself but with him so close the weight of inevitability drags her down.

“You, my love,” she replies, her voice raw with tears.

“Me?” Leto asks, his brow furrowing, “What have I done to make you run from me? I will remedy whatever I have done to scare you so.”

He sounds so earnest, like nothing else matters to him but to be pleasing to her. Like he was not the head of one of the Houses Major but simply a man in love, desperate for her affection.

It makes her heart ache even more.

“It's not what you did. It's what you are, what you…mean…to me. What I must do.”

His hand on her hip explores her body slowly, his touch like fire on her skin as it slips underneath her skirts. “Surely no fault lies with you. Let me repent, my dearest.”

She shakes her head, torn between the promise behind his words and touch and the truth of her purpose. “Leto, please,” she whispers, her words a contradiction to the way her body melts into his touch, “We can't-”

“Nobody will see us here. Let me show you the depth of my affection, my love.”

Her hand reaches down to his, grabbing his wrist softly. “Please, Leto. You don't know what is happening. We can't keep going along this path.”

“Why? Because of this?“

Suddenly she feels a sharpness against her neck, a thin blade pressed softly to her skin, her blade. Her breath is stuck in her throat, her body frozen between the dagger kissing her neck and his lips brushing against her ear.

“I know why you approached me that first time we met. I know what they want you to do,” with one quick movement Leto has turned her around to face him, the hilt of the dagger pressed into her palm, “If that is your will then I will gladly find my end by your hand, my love.”

His eyes burn into hers, determination set into his brows and she believes him. “I can't,” she whispers, tears now streaming down her face.

“What has you so scared then?”

“They will kill me and you. There is no future in this and I-”

“Do you love me?“

His question has her heart racing. She swallows hard and nods.

“Then we will find a way. I am an Atreides. There is no call I do not answer; there is not faith that I betray,” his hands cup her face, the dagger clanging to the ground, “I love you and no House Major, no Emperor is going to take that away.”

She breathes out his name like a blessing and rests her forehead against his. With all his confidence they both know it is not that easy. A union between House Atreides and House Harkonnen would surely anger the Emperor. Two targets on both their backs.

And yet, as he pulls her close, their bodies pressed together like they wanted to be one, she knows in her heart that there is no other path she can walk.

“Do you trust me?” he whispers into her ear, his arms wrapped around her tightly.

“Always.”

“Then stay with me. Stay by my side and I will make sure nobody can tear us apart.”

Her tears stain his uniform, her heart hammering in her chest as she answers: “I will.”

[gabessquishytum]

Hob in his hedonist morally gray years is a highwayman. He robs fancy carriages and picks pockets and generally fucks around, living for sex and a good fight. One day he comes across a fancy looking carriage and thinks “yep that’s an easy mark. The owner looks like a stiff wind would knock him over.”

So Hob stops the carriage, beats up the driver and opens the door. Inside, the pale, delicate lord stares at him from the dark. He has his curtains drawn.

“Step out of the carriage, sweetheart,” Hob says. He sort of wants to pat him down. Maybe he will. “I’ll be taking that ruby and anything else you’ve got.”

The lord just gives him a little arch look. “Your dreams are full of violence and hedonism,” he says. “Have you no respect for the laws of your society?”

“None,” Hob answers cheerily and crowds into the carriage. He sits on the bench next to him and taps his knife against that sharp, high collar. “Now… you aren’t going to give me trouble, are you?”

The lord isn’t as frightened as Hob expected. That should have been his first sign.

“You seem strong and healthy. Haven’t you found honest work?” The lord makes no effort to flinch back from the knife and Hob digs it against his pale, fine skin.

“Why, when I can steal what I need?”

The lord doesn’t give off much heat, Hob notices, now that he’s close. His eyes in the dark glint. Idly, Hob thinks of a snake. Something cold blooded.

“You’ll do,” the lord muses.

Hob feels the hair on the back of his neck rise. “I’m getting impatient. Hand over that ruby or I’ll have to get rough.” He presses the knife deep enough to pierce skin.

Only it doesn’t. It’s like he’s pressing against marble, not flesh.

Hob jerks back. A hand snatches out, catching his wrist in a vise-like grip, twisting the knife out of his fingers. The lord—flows over him and suddenly Hob is on his back, and there are teeth at his throat.

“What—!” He gasps.

The door of the carriage opens. It’s the guard, who Hob thought he had dispatched, grinning down at him, blood matting one side of his blond hair.

“What do you think, Lord Morpheus?” He asks his lord, who has settled on Hob’s thighs, claws digging into his wrists. “Is he suitable?”

“Yes. No one will question the disappearance of a highwayman,” Morpheus says through a mouth with too many teeth in his pretty red mouth. Hob stares in horror. “And I rather like the idea of taming him.”

Hob struggles against his hold, blood racing through his body.

“What are you,” he gasps. “I didn’t mean—”

“You meant to rob me and kill me. What else might you have done to me?” A too-long tong your lavs eagerly up his neck, curling behind his ear. “Tell me, that I may do it to you.”

“Only scare you,” Hob promises.

“Liar.” Morpheus smiles against his pulse.

His guard closes the door and suddenly the carriage is moving again. The creature purrs, scenting up his cheek. “I never want to take someone good,” Morpheus says. “You are no good man. Yet you are strong. You crave violence. You crave sex. You’ll be able to hold on longer than the others.”

“What are you going to do to me?”

“Nothing you won’t beg me for. You’ve been aroused since I pinned you.”

Oh god. He’d noticed. Desperate, Hob attempts to slam his head into the lord’s. But the lord dodges.

He catches Hob by the scruff of his neck like a misbehaving kitten and smirks down at him. “Don’t fret. I prefer not to kill you. I’d rather like to keep you. It’s been so long since I’ve been able to keep someone. If you’re good, I’ll keep you for centuries, but I’ll have to teach you goodness. I can tell it doesn’t come naturally to you. Poor thing, no one’s ever taught you how to behave, but you’ll take to obedience beautifully, I know it.”

His eyes are mesmerizing. It’s hard to breathe with him so close and Hob … has never so afraid in his life. Nor so hard in his pants. “Are you a vampire? A demon? Are you dragging me to hell for my sins?”

Lord Morpheus pets his hair as if he truly was a stray in need of soothing. “Nothing so simple, Robert Gadling.”

I'm literally obsessed with this!!!!! I've said it before but like. When you guys drop lil snippets and mini fics into my inbox I feel really honoured. You guys have so much talent and I am so grateful that I get to benefit from it <3

Anyway: highwayman hob is. Genius. I love him already. I can imagine him riding around the country and just being an absolute bastard, stealing cash and fancy jewelry and occasionally having his wicked way when his victims seem willing. He absolutely loves his life, but oh dear, karma is coming for him...

Imagine Hob pinned back against the velvet interior of the carriage by Morpheus’s gaze and one hand alone. And Hob is reduced to whimpering like one of his previous victims. The beautiful Lord is caressing and fondling him through his clothes, squeezing his half-hard cock (how is he getting hard?!). All the while the driver watches and grins.

Hob has a horrible feeling that he's going to do exactly as this strange man (being?) tells him. When Lord Morpheus tells him that he's going to be a beautiful, obedient little nightmare, Hob finds himself nodding. Poor thing, he can't help himself.

And when his Lord tells him to kiss that wonderful ruby, the one he was so keen to steal... Hob does exactly that.

Perhaps sometimes Dream needs a little extra human touch for his dreams and nightmares. Perhaps he's found exactly what he was looking for...

[girls-alias]

Beating - Sam/Dean Winchester

Title: Beating - Sam/Dean Winchester

Words:

Relations: Sam/Dean Winchester X Reader.

TW: 605

Prompt:

Dean taking a beating for you. It can be either brother. You choose.

I should stop hunting alone! I thought as I crashed against the wall. My back cracked loudly as I landed on the floor below the now broken wall. The demon walked towards me with a smirk. She grabbed me by my shoulder lifting me from the ground as it squeezed my shoulder until it cracked. Definitely broken! I screamed in pain but quickly concealed it with heavy breathing. 

"No, I want you to scream in pain," She chuckled as she squeezed harder. 

"Leave her alone you son of a bitch!" A deep male voice called out as the door swung open. The demon dropped me to the ground to mess with the man. I hadn't a second to look as I clutched my shoulder in extreme pain. I heard crashing, groans and grunts. I tried focusing to help in the fight but my sight was fuzzy from the pain. The demon laughed a deep chuckle. 

"Maybe you'd like to watch her bleed?" She asked as I heard footsteps approaching me. I blinked repeatedly trying to fix my sight. I groaned as I watched the blurry blob approaching me. 

"Come hit me, you bitch!" The same voice shouted from across the room. The demon chuckled. I stopped clutching my shoulder and moved my hand around until it hit something cold. I knew instantly it was a knife. I grabbed it for self defense and hid it behind my shoulder pretending to clutch it again. 

"I'll get to you in a minute, wait your turn," The demon commented in a dementing tone. Flat as if it had done this many times. 

"Afraid you can't hit hard enough or afraid I'll get a hit in on you?" He asked tormenting it. I coughed feeling a warm liquid arise from my throat. I hunched over so I didn't choke on the liquid. The guy made sure to catch the demon's attention and due to the rise in noise, there was definitely a fight happening. I felt my head getting dizzy and fought to stay awake. 

"Come and get me, asshole," I commented loudly making the commotion stop. I heard a sadistic chuckle as the demon's footsteps approached. I was squeezing the knife so tight I assumed my knuckles were white. 

"Oh, such a pretty little, bitch!" The demon barked. 

"Leave her alone!" The man shouted. He sounded broken like he had taken an extreme beating for me. The demon approached me and stomped on my leg cracking the bone. I screamed out but knew it was too early to defend myself with the blade. The demon only chuckled. It picked me up by my hair and I knew this was my time. I smirked through the pain. 

"What are you smiling at?" It asked in an annoyed tone. 

"Payback's a bitch," I commented before plunging the blade into it's heart. My vision was still blurry but a bright yellow light shone from the eyes and mouth of the demon. The demon fell to the floor and I dropped alongside it. 

"Hey, you okay?" The deep voice asked me. 

"Yeah, I'm alive," I commented as I winced in pain. I could barely move. I heard a dragging noise coming towards me. Once the sound was close enough I felt a hand on the side of my face. I could see the outline of a man's face. 

"You're okay, You're alright. My brother will be here any minute and we'll get you all fixed up, okay?" He instructed making me smile slightly. I was breathing heavily from the pain. "I've got you," He comforted. 

[chadillacboseman]

The knife/blood play with Doc was rlly good, would u be willing to make a part 2 or maybe Doc doing something else (impact or perhaps bondage)?

OH WE ARE SO BACK-

Pairing: Doc x F!Reader Warnings: Oh boy! Bondage, knifeplay, a lil slap here and there. Doc being a condescending jackoff lol. I blacked out when I wrote this and when I came to there were so many horny words on the page. Just a blatant display of my mental illness projected onto a screen. I had to put like the ENTIRETY of this under a cut because it's VERY NSFW lol.

Your legs are shaking and you feel as if your chest is going to explode from the way your heart hammers away at your ribcage. Gustave has your ankles bound to the legs of the chair, effectively keeping your legs splayed wide for him.

He stalks around the chair and you watch with apprehension as the light glints off of the blade he clutches in his hand. You teeter on the razor edge between scared and unbearably aroused, your mind in a white hot haze.

This isn't the first time the two of you have done something like this, but the bindings are new.

"Are you afraid?" Gustave whispers as he drags the blunt end of the knife along your shoulder. You tremble slightly and he grins, shark-like.

When you don't answer, he chuckles and kneels in front of you, his dark eyes shining in the overhead light. Slowly, he brings his mouth between your legs and you whimper as his breath fans over the tender skin of your inner thighs.

"Let me help you find your voice," Gustave purrs. He runs his tongue along your already soaked slit and pauses to suck gently at your clit.

You moan his name and he grins against you before adding a finger that makes you see bright white. You're too lost in his motions between your legs to notice when he raises the knife to your upper thigh. A quick cut makes you cry out in earnest as the blood spills down your leg and onto the chair.

Gustave looks up at you with punch drunk and hazy eyes; he moves from your pussy to the wound and runs his flattened tongue over it, collecting the blood before groaning and closing his eyes as he swallows.

You watch with your breath trapped in your chest as his throat bobs. The sharp pain fades to a dull ache as he returns his mouth to between your legs. You try to buck against him and he tuts in disapproval before taking a nip at your clit that makes you yelp.

Gustave is torturing you on purpose, letting you come to the cusp of release before backing off. It's enough to drive you mad, but you won't give him the satisfaction of begging.

You whine pathetically when he pulls away just as you're about to topple over the edge and you swear under your breath.

"Such a dirty mouth," he says, rather condescendingly, "Maybe I'll keep you here for a few hours, hm?"

You don't answer and his broad hand connects with your cheek, just hard enough to shock you into a startled cry that makes him smirk. He waits for the safe word, wonders if he's crossed a line, but you don't give it.

"You liked that, didn't you?" Gustave tilts your chin up with the flat side of the knife and you nod wordlessly, "Use your words, ma cherie."

"Yes," you choke out the word and he takes the knife from your neck and moves it to your sternum.

The next cut is deeper and you cry out through gritted teeth as he returns his hand to your aching pussy. Warm blood spills down your chest and to your stomach as he pumps his fingers inside you.

"Should I let you cum?" he murmurs and your defiance washes away as if it's slipped the rung of the ladder it was climbing.

"Please," your lip quivers and he offers you a mock pout as he lowers his mouth to your pussy once more.

This time he eats like a man starved until he feels you clench around his fingers. You throw your head back and moan, which keeps your eyes off the blade that he brings to your other thigh. The final cut is deeper than he intended and you let out a genuine scream when the blade drags across your skin.

Gustave looks up with his brows knit low over his eyes in concern. He's sure he's crossed a line, but when your gaze finds his, you don't offer the safe word. Instead, you pull your lip between your teeth and he feels a jolt go straight to his cock.

He runs the flat side of the knife across the cut, collecting the bright crimson blood on the steel. He brings it to your mouth, the shining metal glinting as he hovers it there.

"Clean it," Gustave's voice is thick as he stands and watches expectantly.

You hesitate, and once again his hand connects with your face. You whimper and extend your tongue, running it along the blunt side of the knife until the blood pools on your tongue. He waits until you swallow and then smiles devilishly.

"Good girl."

His cock is aching as he watches you swallow. He wants so badly to cut the ropes and bend you over the chair. To fuck you until you're begging for mercy.

But the cuts need attention, and he can wait.

Gustave moves to deftly slice the ropes that hold your ankles, then your wrists. He runs his fingers soothingly over the marks left behind and you lean into him, sighing contentedly. He kisses the crown of your head before pulling away and finding the towel he has stashed away.

Carefully, he mops the blood from the wounds until the towel is stained red. He grimaces at the most recent one, silently admonishing himself for his carelessness.

"Are you alright?" he murmurs as he dabs at the cut until it stops bleeding.

You nod and he moves his hand up to stroke your face where he struck it earlier. He finds your gaze and cocks his head, as if to ask 'are you sure?'

"I'm fine, I promise," you smile weakly and he seems content, tossing the towel aside in favor of cupping your chin with his other hand.

"You did well, ma cherie," he smiles warmly, such a swift departure from the man he was just moments ago. His ability to switch in an instant never ceases to amaze you.

Gustave swipes his thumb across your lower lip then kisses you, soft and loving. He worries, even when you don't use the safe word- worries that he's crossed a line or overstepped a boundary. He doesn't want to hurt you, not genuinely anyway.

"I love you," he is sure to hold your gaze as he says it, still searching for a sign that he's done wrong.

"I love you, too."

You smile and he's satisfied.

[ackerfiction]

Hello, should I request a new canon! Levi x Wife-Princess! Reader - where reader finds a death treath of plans to assassinate her, and she confide her fears to Levi who was shocked, angry and at the same time protective over her, while comforting her that's everything is going to be okay.

You can do what you want, and thank you so much <33

Y/N ruffled through the papers, having bumped into a MP and dropping them all over the floor, she was keen to ensure she had all of her and Levi’s letters. She rifled through, eventually stopping at an envelope with the seal of Marley Officials. She slid the papers out of the envelope, unfolding it carefully. Why was it open? Her eyes widened as she read the words on the page, a gasp escaping her lips.

Jackson,

As you know, Ackerman is our biggest threat. As discussed, the best way to get him out of the field is Y/N. It has been decided that we no longer intend to hold her hostage, but to exterminate her.

Given her position in the Royal Family, we believe it was also significantly weaken Paradisian forces. Meet with our agent tonight, draw the Princess out as discussed. We will have her and bring down the Devils.

-K

“Are you okay?” Levi looked up from his cup, the steam curling in the air. Y/N’s face was pale, hands shaking. He stood, taking the letter from her hands.

His face darkened.

“Levi, what do I…” She swallowed, the lump in her throat too painful to continue.

“You go tonight. You play along.” The look on his face was one of legend, the look of a man enraged by the loss of those he loved. Only seen a handful of times before. It was the look of a man out for blood.

Y/N took a breath, she’d noticed one of the MP’s staring at her all day, shadowing her every move. She kept her hands in her pockets, palms sweaty.

“Hey.” Levi had taken her head in her hands, pressing a small kiss to her lips, “I won’t let anything happen to you. Trust me.” She nodded and his softness melted, “I can’t promise the same to those shits though.”

She played his words over and over in her head, as the MP approached her, a smile and a letter in hand.

“Your Highness.” He bowed, extending his hand with the letter, “I am sorry, I believe I have accidentally picked up one of your envelopes in this mornings mix up.” She steeled herself, Levi was trained for this, and while she wasn’t, he would protect her. He never failed her and he wouldn’t now.

She reached for the letter. The MP grabbed her wrist, pulling her into him. Y/N became alarmingly aware of how empty the hall was. “To the roof.” She felt his breath on her neck, the point of a knife on her back. “Scream and you die. Take one step away and you die.”

She obeyed. Her heart raced, pounding harder with every step. Tears threatening to spill with every person they passed. She forced a smile, nodding politely.

They reached the roof, the MP closing and barring the door behind them. He pushed her towards the edge. She whipped around, where was Levi? He should be here and yet- it hit her. She really was alone. The wind whipped her hair in her face, her legs weak. She prayed he would kill her quickly, was falling or bleeding faster? No. A cut to the neck was. She knew that much. Trust me. She fought to trust Levi, but where was he?

“You.” The MP stepped forward, “You are a catch, I can see why Levi likes you.” He chuckled, “Shame such a pretty body has to go to waste. Such a shame that the Princess would rather jump from the roof than be with her husband.”

“Think again, Dipshit.” A blast of gas, wires reeling in. Before either of them could move, Levi appeared in the air, Y/N felt relief flood her. He landed between the pair, scouts landing either side of the MP. Horror flashed across his features as Levi stepped forward. “Did you really think you would be able to hurt her under my watch?” He asked, “Pathetic.” He glanced back at Y/N, “I think we should send something back in the post, don’t you? A finger maybe.” The MP began to scream as he was dragged off of the roof and down the stairs. Levi turned to Y/N, she ran into his arms, tears of relief flowing.

“I told you.” He pushed her hair out of her face, eyes softening, “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“What’s going to happen to him?” She asked, Levi let out a breath.

“Don’t you worry about it. Just know that I will never leave you in danger, I will go to the ends of the earth for you. Nobody will ever hurt you.” He held her for a moment longer. “I promise.”

[lucki-clover]

I need to be hunted so bad y’all don’t get it.

This Drabble is kinda terrible but I committed too much time to not post it sorry :(

I want my friends to drag me out to a club despite the fact that it’s too crowded for me, only to deposit me at the bar and run off to dance. I buy a drink or two, sipping them to attempt to blend in. A smooth talking stranger approaches, all indulgent smiles and bright, interested eyes that even someone as dense as I could understand. We talk and flirt, they order us more drinks with a hand on my thigh. I’m so caught up in all of it I don’t even notice what they’re slipping into my drink.

The trip from the bar to the woods is blurry snapshots. A covetous hand on my ass as I’m dragged out the bar, that sweet smile a sneer in the rearview mirror as I lay across the backseat of their car. My next clear thought is in a small meadow in the center of the woods, and it’s the moment I register that I’ve never been this afraid. They drag me up by my hair, the action shaking me more awake, and lay out the rules simply.

It’s so easy that even a dumb whore like me can win, or so they say. All I have to do is get out of the woods. They’ll give me a few minutes head start, and then the hunt is on. “When I catch you, you’re all mine.” I try to ignore the certainty in those words as I spin off and dash off into the trees.

I only am free for as long as it’s entertaining. Perhaps they’re even cruel enough to track me until I run into one of the tall barrier wall they’ve set up, smooth and unscalable, before revealing themselves. Mocking me for thinking that I could ever make it out as they shove me down on the forest floor, pushing a knife to my throat and a hand up my skirt. They tear my panties and shove a finger in my cunt, laughing the way I flinch and whimper in fear. Working me open despite my pleads for it to stop, murmuring filth in my ear.

“You’re so pretty when you’re scared. I should keep you like this.”

“I knew you’d be such easy prey. Fuck, cry some more like that for me slut.”

“Maybe I should keep you as my little pet. Next time I’ll take pictures.”

By the time they’ve added a third finger, I’m wet and horrified by it. They begin dragging the knife down my chest, a thin trail of blood beginning to form and run down my skin as I feel my hips buck without my permission. I’m struck by the fact that this monster might make me cum, and it disgusts me. My begging gets higher in pitch and I try to squirm away, but they dig the knife in a little deeper and snarl, “You’re going to cum on my fingers like the worthless fuckmeat you are. You wanted this, whether you want to admit it or not. You’re my bitch now, and I’ll do what I want to you.” As I feel the coil in my belly snap I sob harder, legs twitching under their ministrations.

I make the mistake of sighing in relief as they remove their fingers from me, only to tense up again when I hear the clatter of their belt buckle. “You didn’t actually think this was over did you? You’re stupider than you look, whore.”

[thicc-ray-of-sunshine]

EXTREMELY self indulgent angst

Out here projecting my own problems and writing angst

TW///// TALKS OF SUICIDE BELOW THE CUT

---------------------------------------------------

"Please don't finish that sentence Stan."

You felt bitter laughter rise in your chest, cutting through it like a knife, a sour expression on your face.

"I understand that you're trying to help I do, and that saying that might be comforting to another person, but for me? That's probably one of the worst things you could say to me."

You could feel the beginnings of tears pricking your eyes, trying to blink them back as they began to blur the edges of your visuon. Still avoiding looking at Stan next to you, not wanting to see the look of pity that would inevitably be there.

"Me being young doesn't mitigate anything. I don't pretend to know the kind of shit you've been through, so please just- give me the same courtesy."

Your voice cracked at the end and you hated it, sounding just as pathetic and broken as you felt. You couldn't stop the tears as they slid down your cheeks, crying silently, wetting the wood of the porch steps beneath you. You hated crying, hated how your body took control from you; forcing you to become a physical manifestation of how truly wretched you felt.

At your side Stan was completely at a loss. His mind still reeling, unrecovered from seeing the most chipper person he'd ever met in his life completely fall apart at the seams. It was scary how fast it had happened, and it made him wonder how many of your smiles were genuine.

He could see a shadow of his younger self in you and it terrified him. It was plain as day on your face, a big black well of despair laying just beneath the surface there and he wonders how he didn't see it before. He watched, tears still running tracks down your pretty face as you clumsily fished out a pack of cigarettes from your pockets. Your hands were shaking as you brought one to your lips, hands fumbling for a lighter you didn't have. A harsh breath left you as you came to that realization, dragging a hand across your face and pulling at your own hair in a way that hurt.

Stan didn't hesitate, moving in closer to yoir side, having procured his own lighter. He wordlessly lit the cigarette hanging from your chapped lips, backing off as soon as the cherry burned red. You slid the pack his way as you took a puff, followed by a long shuddering exhale as he lit up his own cigarette. You briefly met his gaze in your peripherals, before casting a forlorn look back out to the nightscape in front of you.

"You ain't gotta feel bad Stan. I know you meant well. It's just- this shit is tough and it's kinda the whole reason I'm out here in the first place."

Your voice was scratchy in your throat, roughened from your crying. He let you talk, he knew you weren't finished and that he needed to let you go at your own pace.

"It's funny ya know? Some twenty-something like me out in the middle of nowhere Oregon, not where I imagined ending up."

You chuckled lightly, maybe a bit contemptuously; taking another drag.

"Nobody really does."

Stan's hand found your shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze, offering you a a small smile that was more of a grimace if you were honest. That rustled a low dry scoff out of you, close enough to laughter to make Stan feel good about it. A harsh sigh left your lips before you continued.

"I'm out here because I relapsed. Couldn't hack it still living in the 'scene of the crime' after all the shit that went down in my life I guess. Don't really know how many times I've tried to take myself out, haven't really been keeping count if I'm honest."

Your voice was level but there was still a tremble in your voice as you spilled your guts to him. Stan was left completely shell shocked at the revelation; finally being given true clarity into the depth of your grief. There were so many things he should say, that he wanted to say; but he just didn't have the words to.

"And after all that it's just gotta get better, y'know? I mean if it doesn't then what was the point? All that to just amount to nothing."

It was when another sob threatened to leave you, your body shaking where you sat and lip wobbling that he couldn't take it anymore. In one swift movement Stan had put out his cigarette, abandoning it and gathering you into his arms. Holding you close, in a near suffocating grip against his chest. Hoping that the desperate grip he had on you as he coiled his arms around you would convey what he was feeling; what he wanted to say.

Your cigarette joined his own, ashed and forgotten as you threw yourself around him, returning his embrace and fully breaking down in his arms. Your body shook violently against him, chest heaving with each breath you struggled to take between your tears. Arms grappling tighter around his neck as he smoothed his hands up and down your back in a reassuring manner.

"Thank you Stan. I'm sorry-"

You hiccuped through your crying, trying to express your gratitude towards him while also trying to apologize, as if your feelings were nothing more than an inconvenience to him. He could feel his heart breaking just a little more, clutching you closer to himself and shushing you.

"Shhhh. Don't ya worry a pretty little hair on yer head now Sweetheart. I gotcha."

Stan knew what it felt like to feel worthless, like you didn't matter - like a screw up. That feeling where no matter what you did in your life you just couldn't escape your own feelings of inadequacy. It was bizarre and frightening seeing it from the outside, his own self loathing he could handle but seeing it in someone who he cared deeply for? It tore him apart inside. Each of your sobs twisting itself painfully into his chest as your tears soaked the fabric of his shirt between his neck and shoulder.

Stan's left hand played gently with your hair, having moved up to cradle the back of your head tenderly. The crying had mostly stopped, reduced to small hiccups and sniffling while you tried to clear your sinuses. He just continued to hold you, right hand rubbing soothing circles into your back between your shoulderblades.

Your breathing was even now, a little staggered but even. Head nestled in the crook of his neck, resting on his shoulder as you slowly calmed down. He felt a gentle pressure on his shoulders; your hands as you tried to push yourself upright in his embrace.

When he could finally see your face you were a complete wreck, your eyes were bloodshot; a deep red hue tinting them from your crying, heavily irritated. There were obvious tear tracks running down your cheeks that went past your lips to your chin and loose strands of your hair were plastered to the sides of your face from where your tears had wet them. His hand in your hair shifted, moving gently to brush the offending strands out of your face, watching your eyes flutter closed as he did so, a soft sigh falling past your lips. You stopped his hand as he removed it, sliding your hands from around his shoulders to press that hand against your cheek.

Stan felt his breath hitch, such an act of intimacy catching him completely off guard and putting him of kilter. Although he didn't let that stop him from repaying the gesture; you needed him. He let his thumb run just above the apple of your cheek, just below your eye, wiping away the tears there.

"Thank you Stanley."

You murmur against his palm, voice still thick with tears, breath fanning across the inside of his wrist as you thanked him. He could feel tears of his own start to burn the corners of his eyes when you looked back up at him. Your own eyes big glassy pools filled with something akin to adoration. He couldn't stand it, couldn't bear you looking at him like that; like he was everything. Leaning in closer, he tilted your head up to press a kiss against your temples, lips lingering a little longer than they needed to as his disobedient heart stuttered in his chest, murmuring into your skin.

"S'nothin Doll, not for you."

[dominimoonbeam]

One of those scenes I didn't plan but just sort of high-pitched screamed in excitement about while writing it...

Rereading parts of Don't Run to get back into the headspace of Freya.

snippet below! tw: blood, violence, threat of murder, threat of assault, mention of suicide and the temptation to do it, motherfuckinFREYA, no one in this story is ready for her.

-

“Touch that gun and I will open you up,” she snarled in his ear, her back to the ocean and his front to the surprised goons. “I’m a dead girl anyway, right? I might as well take you with me.”

He didn’t touch his gun but he didn’t lower his hand yet either. Was he weighing her words? Searching for weakness? Oh, Freya was full of weakness, but none that would keep her from killing him.

“I have a bitter heart,” she explained, suddenly more honest with this man than she’d been with anyone in her whole life. It didn’t matter when one or both of them was going to die, did it? “It runs in my blood. I’d rather kill you than let you leave me here.”

He moved his hand away from the gun, holding both of them in front of himself. “You’re making this worse than it has to be.”

“I don’t think so. I think you showed up late to a game and thought you were going to take an easy win. I think you made a big fucking mistake, Owen.” She took steps back, pulling him with her, enjoying the pained hiss of his breath when her knife dug deeper.

She moved her other hand down his chest and across his abdomen. His little gasp suggested he was scandalized. She grabbed the gun from his hip and aimed at the thugs. They bolted for the stairs and she fired after them. Of course he hadn’t had the safety on. She shot one of them in the leg but the big guy crawled up those concrete steps and out of sight.

“What now, Buttercup?” he ground out and she was pretty sure he wasn’t fucking smiling now. “Even if you kill me, they’re just going to get you when you make a run for it. And our deal about me telling them to make it quick is definitely off. I think I’ll tell them to have their fun with you… make it last.”

She took another step back with him, her heels finding the edge of the dock. Freya smiled against the back of his collar, her knife-hand wet and warm where his blood was dripping down the blade. “I’m starting to think you don’t do your own work… Maybe I should call you Vizzini.”

He hissed. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, but the only smart thing for you to do now is to shoot yourself in the head.”

Freya shivered, hating how true that felt and not willing to acknowledge the little relief in her chest at the idea. No. NO. She had fought too hard her whole life to stay alive. She wasn’t going out until they dragged her to that grave in the woods!

The waves sloshed and sprayed the backs of her legs.

“Just do it,” he whispered, breathy and right there with her on the edge. “End it. If you don’t—”

“Someone told me that I need friends and my aunt always said… don’t waste someone that might be useful later.” She twisted the knife, the point nicking lines behind his ear. She leaned up onto her toes to get her mouth even closer. “You better be useful to me next time I see you, Vizzini, or I will finish you.”

She let him go, taking the knife away from his throat, and just as he tried to turn around—to shove her or get away from her—she stabbed him in the side. Quick. In and out, before the blade retracted with a snickt and she fell off the dock into the sea.

The ocean was a lot different than the river that cut through her family’s property. It pushed where the river had pulled. It tried to bury her where the river had tried to roll her. But the only thing to do, the only thing there had ever been to do, was to push on until she reached land again.

[farmerlarrry]

Orange Slices (Joel Miller x f!reader)

masterlist | chapter three | chapter two | read on ao3 | playlist

story summary: A story about finding companionship and love in the midst of chaos.

a/n: **updated for mistakes**

word count: 4234

if you want to be notified when I post new chapters, follow @farmerlarrrylibrary and put on notifications! If you'd rather be tagged, just let me know.

Chapter Four

The nights aren’t as cold as they once were. There is still a coolness in the air that will send a chill down your spine, making you want to grasp at anything that will make you warm. However, nothing is worse than those below-freezing nights in the middle of winter, curled up in a fetal position, praying to whatever higher power, let it be God or Mother Nature, to put you out of your misery. As you sit on the floor in the far corner of the cabin, you begin to wonder how the winters are in Jackson. Thinking back to this past winter, you have no idea how you pulled through; usually, everyone was huddled in one big group, taking whatever spare jacket someone was willing to lend you and sipping on whatever liquor was available, hoping it would warm everyone up or at least numb their senses to the point where they couldn’t coherently think about how cold they were. You’re happy that it'll be something you won't have to worry about by the time winter comes around again. You knew snow was a given, but you wondered if there was heating in the homes, like before the world as you knew it ended. Honestly, a fireplace would be good enough for you, even just a thick blanket. Even after Tommy told you all the details about Jackson, you still weren’t sure what to expect. As a way to distract yourself from the current awkwardness that ensued between you, Joel, and Tommy, you let your imagination run wild, coming up with the most out-of-touch thoughts and ideas. You try thinking of things that were considered luxuries in the past, imagining them in Jackson, however, even that wasn't enough to fully distract you.

When you came inside earlier, Joel demanded to talk to Tommy in the only spare room this place offered. Even though the door was closed, you could clearly hear everything that was being said, to say the least, Joel was not happy with Tommy for bringing you back. How stupid could you have been, you should have kept moving, we could have been back by now, Tommy. You’re always trying to play the hero, you can’t save everyone you come across. Tommy stuck up for you though, it’s too late, Joel, this is nonnegotiable, I’m putting my foot down this time, you aren’t in charge of the decisions I make, and so on. They start talking quieter as the conversation drags on, even though it’s dead silent around you, you still have to strain your hearing to pick up anything that's being said. She was alone, low on supplies, had almost no ammunition, and her knife sure as hell wouldn’t have saved her, do you really think I was gonna watch her potentially die? I was just as involved in the situation as she was. You take your knife out of your bag, running your finger carefully along the blade—the one Tommy had sharpened for you willingly. What you call a fucking miracle, Tommy, is what I call stupidy, and it’s definitely not badass. Joel mocked Tommy for what he said early, making you feel awfully small. It only stung because you knew it was true, you weren’t badass, you were only one unfortunate case of ‘wrong place, wrong time’ away from being dead, but what other choice was there? It’s not like you willingly chose to go out on your own again with such little supplies to rely on. Tears brim your eyes as you kick the side of your foot on the wall next to you, trying to shake the feeling that crept up your throat. Maybe things would have been better if Joel wasn't here, and it was still just Tommy and me, you thought, feeling guilty about your wish. Sure, it would have sucked having to walk back to Jackson, you weren’t sure if you would've made it given the state of your blistered, swollen feet, and Tommy’s leg, but this situation with Joel genuinely sucks even more. 

Huddled in the corner, you look up at the night sky out of the broken window in the front of the house. Just as the night you met Tommy, the stars were shining brighter than usual. Turning to your bag, you pull out a small constellation pocket guidebook you snatched from one of the rest stops along the side of the hallway. When you first spotted it, you knew you had to take it with you. Besides, it really didn’t take up that much space in your bag, if you really needed to, it would have easily fit into one of the back pockets of your jeans. It was a small piece of your past, one that didn’t necessarily make your heart ache, and one you didn't want to abandon. You open up to the index page of the book, running your pointer finger down the page, quickly reading what each section has to offer. You look back out the window, dad would have loved looking at the stars now, there's no light pollution, and everything is so clear now. Thinking about it now, you can’t believe it took you this long to notice, the night you met Tommy, the night that finally opened your eyes to the possibility that you could actually start living instead of just surviving. 

You jump as the door makes a scraping noise against one of the lifted wooden floor planks, quickly averting your eyes in the opposite direction of the room. Joel comes barreling out of the room, anger radiating off of him. Every step he takes makes a loud thud and shakes the floor. He aggressively grabs the whiskey bottle and a small glass off the small kitchen countertop before taking a seat at the round dining table that was in the opposite corner of where you were, slamming the glass down. He filled it to the top of the glass, keeping his eyes fixated on the surface of the table, picking at the grains of wood with his free hand. You watch the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. A sense of anxiety washes over you. 

After some time, Tommy comes out of the room and limps his way over to the kitchen counter, where he placed the canned food earlier. A thick sense of tension quickly fills the room. Tommy begins opening the cans of food, splitting them into three different bowls, and mixing the green beans and the stew together. Your stomach lets out a small growl, causing you to cross your arms over your rib cage, lightly applying pressure to soothe the ache. God, I’m so hungry. You turn your attention back towards the kitchen when Joel stirs up some sort of commotion, refusing the food from Tommy, which makes the air even thicker. You watch as Tommy rolls his eyes, letting the bowl drop on the table, the liquid of the stew splattering up and landing on the table. This did not help the situation at all, Joel then swiped the bowl off the table with his arm. You’re fucking ruthless, Tommy spat as he picked it up off the floor, scraping the food back into the bowl. 

“I’m so sorry,” Tommy whispers, handing you your portion of the food. You don’t respond, but you do give him a sympathetic smile and nod. It’s not Tommy’s fault, and you don’t blame him by any means. Although, with how Joel is acting over your arrival, it's making you feel like you're a burden. 

“Hey Tommy,” you say quietly as he begins to turn away. “Do you need help with cleaning and dressing your leg, you never got the chance when we got back, and it should probably be taken care of, so it doesn’t get infected.”

He lets out a small chuckle.

“Haven’t even had time to think about that, honestly,” He looked over his shoulder towards Joel, letting out a quiet sigh. “But, uh, I can do it myself, just worry about getting some food in ya’”

“No, no , it’s the least I can do, I can eat afterward.” You rise to your feet, pulling Tommy’s arm around your shoulders, and walk him over to the worn-out red couch that sits in the middle of the room. Tommy points you towards his bag that was next to the front door on the ground, telling you where you could find the first aid supplies. Now getting a better look, the large gash in his shin looked quite painful, as it was now swollen and red. Cleaning it is going to be a bitch on Tommy.

“This is gonna hurt,” You peer up at him, preparing him for the pain as you drench a linen cloth with alcohol, Tommy simply nods in response. The state of the wound was causing you to feel slightly woozy. “Um, so, how’d you find this place, Tommy?”

You couldn’t really think of anything else to talk about to distract him from the pain, you thought maybe you could ask him more about his girlfriend, as that seemed to be something that made him happy, however, maybe it was too personal. You settled on asking about the cabin. You begin to dab his wound with the cloth, his leg twitches and tightens up as you come into contact.

“Well, uh, oh fuck,” He is gripping onto the cushion of the couch, from this angle, you can see Joel curiously watching from behind, obviously concerned for his brother. Tommy has his eyes screwed shut as he shortly recounts the history behind the cabin through gritted teeth.

Tommy found this place after he left the Fireflies, but before he reached Jackson. He said it seemed like it hadn’t been touched since the outbreak, so he decided to stay for a bit. After he reached Jackson, he used this as a resting point on longer journeys, like when he would scavenge and make trades in the early years of the community while it was still under development. Funny enough, this is where Joel and I found each other again, I guess we think more alike than we’d admit, he laughed, turning his head off to the side towards Joel, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. Tommy was coming back from a deal when he noticed boot prints in the mud, it had rained the night before, and he had been shot at through the front window, hence the reason why it was broken. Long story short, the fight turned physical once they both ran out of ammunition, neither of them realized who the other was because daylight had already long faded. He put me in a headlock, about to choke my sorry ass, I was muttering ‘you motherfucker’ over and over under my breath, trying to get away. I guess in his fit of rage, he heard the familiarity in my voice and immediately dropped his arm, practically crying, “Tommy, Tommy?” Isn’t that right, Joel-y? It was dark, but I knew there were tears in your eyes. Joel groaned in protest, not saying anything in response, just pouring himself another glass. By the time he finished recounting the details, you were done wrapping up his leg with clean bandages.

After returning to your spot to start eating, leaving Tommy on the couch, you can’t help but stare at Joel. The lighting is casting a dark shadow over the corner you’re situated in, you doubt he would even be able to tell, not like he would care anyway. The moon was shining at just the right angle to illuminate where Joel is sitting, and this time you’re able to look more intently at his features than when you first saw him. Your breathing becomes shallow as you trace your eyes over his face, then his body. His hair is mostly dark, a little bit of gray has started to come through on the sides; his facial hair is slightly patchy, with a bit of gray peppered throughout, it looks like he trims it regularly. In the light, his eyes appear to be dark, the opposite of Tommy’s obvious green eyes; however, they have the exact same smile lines. His mouth is currently twisted, and slightly puckered. They look soft. Moving your eyes further down, he has broad shoulders, the flannel that he currently has on is tight against his arms, and when he moves, the buttons across his chest area strain. 

Look away , an unfamiliar voice in your head suddenly appears. You immediately look away, your breathing is still off. 

You look down at your bowl of food, flipping a piece of potato over with your spoon. Although your stomach aches, you’re no longer hungry. 

For the rest of the night, everyone keeps their distance. You, in the corner, Joel at the table, and Tommy on the sofa couch. No one says anything, all averting gazes from one another, well, besides you. Every once in a while, you steal glances of Joel. Watching him sit at the table, his microexpressions seem to change with every new glance. The stone coldness of his face, the pain behind his eyes, the way he sucks his teeth after every single sip from his glass. As he turns his head away from both you and Tommy, you strain your eyes a little harder and notice a scar just above his temple. Your hand shoots up to your own temple, you have one in the exact same spot. As you continue watching him, you rub your index finger over the scar, feeling the uneven ridges it left even after all these years. Sadness sinks deep within your soul, making your chest feel heavy. Tilting your head back and resting your head against the wall, you look up at the dark ceiling, trying not to think about anything in particular.

-

A loud snore draws you out of your sleep, causing your body to revolt, and you bang the back of your head against the wall. Bringing your hand up to your head, you rub over the sore spot, wincing as you look around the room. You realize the noise came from Tommy as he let out a softer snore, he’s asleep on the couch, body sprawled out, head tilted back, mouth slightly agape. Another loud snore. Maybe that’s what alerted the people on the highway that night, you think.

Joel is still at the table, it looks like he hasn’t moved since before you fell asleep. The once-full bottle is now considerably drained—not quite empty, but almost there. To the left of it stood a brand new, full bottle. He suddenly turned his attention to you, locking eyes, causing you to let out a small gasp before dropping your attention toward the floor.

“So, darlin',” He says, slurring his words together. You look up through your brows and watch him as he rocks his body toward the table. Your heart feels like it’s in the middle of your throat. “You just gonna sit there all nigh’ and stare at me?”

You couldn’t gather your thoughts and began to stammer. Joel is quite drunk based on the way he’s speaking to you, his tone is a lot more at ease than it had been earlier, throwing you off. You watch him as he gets up and stumbles towards the counter, retrieving another glass that matches the one he’s drinking from. 

“C’mon up here and join me,” He says monotonously, still slurring the tiniest bit, his southern twang is a lot more prominent than before. Joel pushes the sleeves of his flannel up towards his elbows before filling the empty glass half-full. You’re still sitting on the ground, watching him struggle to recap the bottle. When he finally gives up, he flicks it up into the air with his thumb and index finger, and it lands on the ground, rolling across the floor before stopping in front of your feet. ‘Shits gonna be gone by mornin’’ Joel barely audibly mumbled.

Slowly getting up on your feet, you tuck your belongings snugly into the corner you were just sitting in and glance over once more at Tommy, who is dead asleep. Joel is watching you intensely as you make your way towards the table, his consistent attention makes your stomach twist and turn. It must have been obvious because his expressionless face quickly turns into a smirk. He slides the glass to you as you take a seat in the chair next to him, your posture is stiff. Joel is still eyeing you with a hungry look in his eye, as he leans back in his chair, relaxing. You have no idea where to look. 

“What?” He playfully asks with a cunning look. “You can sit in the corner all night, for hours staring, but now... now you can’t even look at me?”

Running your fingernail along the grains of wood, you shyly look up, making direct eye contact with Joel. His hazel eyes look at you with a hard intensity, and you feel like all the air has been sucked out of your lungs, an electric jolt runs down your spine, causing your body to slightly twitch. A playful look dances across his face. 

God, I want to wipe that smug fucking look off his face, you bite down hard on your bottom lip. 

You roll your eyes, using the palms of your hands to push yourself up from the chair, it makes a loud screeching noise as the legs drag against the wooden floor. Joel quickly grabs one of your wrists—not painfully tight, but definitely firm. You can feel his calloused hands rub against your skin. The sensation causes you to choke on the air you quickly drew in. 

“Where do you think you’re going, sweetheart? Can’t let good whiskey go to waste.” He pulls you towards him, kicking the chair you were just in a little further out. As you sit, Joel pushes the glass towards you again. 

Your heart flutters when the word sweetheart rolls off his tongue. You close your eyes before taking a deep breath, clasping your hand around your wrist where he had previously been holding it.

You are so fucked, the same small voice from earlier chimed in. 

The two of you sat in silence for a long time. Joel downed two more half-glasses by the time you finished your one. He’s becoming more and more drunk, you’ve had to catch his glass from being knocked over more than once now. Every once in a while he’ll glance up to look at you, looking like he’s about to speak, before looking off into the distance again, sucking on his teeth. The longer you sit there, the hotter your face feels, you feel uneasy, and your stomach is still in a knot. 

You go to pour a few sips worth of whiskey in your glass when Joel reaches across with one of his hands and tips the bottle forward, filling your glass with a lot more than you want.

“Hey, no,” you gasp, before looking up at him in disbelief. “I didn’t want that much.”

“Drink up,” Joel smiles, raising his glass into the air. “Got a whole bottle and no cap, so between the two of us...”

“The cap is literally over there, you fucking... ” You say in a condescending tone, narrowing your eyes at him while gesturing towards it.

“ You fucking what? Cap don’t exist to me,” He says in a low, whispered tone before taking another sip. 

Now annoyed, you take a longer sip from your glass. The whiskey is sharp as it meets your tongue, but smooth as it goes down. The taste is horrible, it tastes like straight-up rubbing alcohol and smoked wood chips, your face twists in disgust as you force another sip down. You barely finished your first glass, whatever was in this new bottle is much stronger. 

“You not a whiskey kind of gal, huh?” He let out a gentle laugh before throwing back his head and polishing off what was left of his. 

“Not really an alcohol person,” you respond quietly in a bitter tone, he gives you a skeptical glare and a sense of anxiety overcomes you.

You don’t owe him an explanation, the voice said. But the way he was staring at you made you fold. 

“I had a really bad night at a party before... before this,” You cringe, running your finger around the rip of the glass, “Alcohol has never really sat well in my stomach since then.”

Joel raises his eyebrows and gives you a single nod, leaning forward and resting his forearms on the edge of the table.

“So you were a party girl?” He says neutrally, pointing at you in an accusatory way. 

“Well, no, I-” Stuttering again, Joel cuts you off. 

“Tommy was a partier, he loved to party, had to come to get him a lot, had to get ’im from jail sometimes. I couldn’t, I was always too busy taking care of- '' He abruptly stops talking, his expression going stone-cold again, and balls his hands into fists before lightly hitting them against the wooden surface. “Forget it.”

He said the last bit much quieter, with a hint of pain. You sigh, looking around the room with your hands folded in your lap. The two of you go back to being silent. Joel completely ditches his glass, now drinking straight from the bottle. Quickly, he has become belligerently drunk, nearly unconscious, laying his arm straight out on the table and resting his head against his bicep. Every once in a while, he would mumble something unintelligible under his breath, causing you to roll your eyes more than once.

You’re resting your chin in the palm of your hand, starting to close your heavy eyes. A sudden snort coming from your side makes you jump.

“Joel,” You poke at his arm and only receive a small grunt in response. Your annoyance from earlier has now turned into pity. People who haven’t gone through some seriously fucked-up shit don’t down alcohol the way he is tonight. I should at least try to get him to the bedroom, that’s what a good person would do, right? Or should I just take the bed all to myself? You think to yourself, going back and forth between the two options, as you continue staring at Joel. Drool is running down his chin, sticking to his beard hair.

“ Joel,” you say a little louder, more firmly, nudging his arm again. Your shoulders round in defeat.

Getting up from your chair, you move it out of the way, so Joel won’t trip over it. Then came the hard part of actually getting him up, first looping your forearm under the arm furthest from you, then pulling up with most of your strength, he follows your lead. He’s not reacting to anything you’re doing, making it ten times harder. You can’t tell if he is doing this on purpose, or just so fucked up that he can’t do anything. Joel stumbles as the two of you walk, tripping over his own feet, almost causing the both of you to tumble to the ground. Could you be any more helpless, you spit out in a harsh tone. You never understood what people meant when they’d say something about carrying dead weight, but now you do, and this is not an easy task. 

You finally make it past the door frame with him still leaning on you for full support, and for a split second you think about just letting him drop to the floor, but the bed was only a few more steps away, and a part of you thought that maybe, just maybe, Joel would figure out you were the one who got him there, and he’d ease up on this asshole act towards you. As you go to push off the wall to keep moving, Joel suddenly comes out of whatever daze he was in, pinning you up against the door with incredible force, his forearm pressed firmly against your throat. You feel your eyes shoot wide open, and when you go to speak, you can’t get any sound to come out. You motherfucker, anger fills every crevice of your body. You begin to reach for your knife, forgetting it's in the main room, lying next to your bag. Shit. 

Joel traces his eyes over your face, eventually easing the pressure against your throat, though he still keeps you in place. You are gripping his forearm tight with both of your hands, pushing as hard as you can, struggling as you try to get him off of you. The distinct smell of alcohol overwhelms your senses as he leans in close to your face, leaving less than an inch between the two of you. Your heart is now beating faster than you think it has ever beaten, and the thumping sound fills your ears. You let your arms fall to the side of your body, turning your head to create more space between the two of you. Joel is breathing slow, shallow breaths, and smirking.

“Now what do you think you’re doing, darlin’,” He leans in and whispers into your ear, you can feel his breath on your neck, causing goosebumps to appear all over your body. “Tryna get me into bed with you?”

read chapter five here!

painting divider | credit: @cottage-writings

[autisticiyami]

crazy? i was crazy once. they locked me in a room. a rubber room. a rubber room filled with rats. th

LISTEN TO MY AUTISM-INDUCED HEADCANONS BOY. i think about him a criminal amount i have his entire life planned out to fit with that ososan repainted idea i never did anything with that goes along with 80skun. do u see the vision. no? well ill show u. welcom to my freaking twisted evil mind. rant incoming.

also im gona be hopefully updating this semi-frequently as i draw more stuff and actually feel like explaining stuff. this post will be my Iyami Autism Diary now.

i dont have specific sources on any of these rn bc im writing this on my computer and also bc its probably something i saw once and didnt bother to save or anthing so. bear with me here.

-baby iyami. loveless child. born by a mother who always knew she would be better off without him and sharing the sibling moniker with an unironic sociopath older brother. emotionally neglected and naturally socially inept due to autism, along with like.. looking like that. you know he was torn to shred by everyone. japanese kids are RUTHLESS his entire elementary/middle school experience was getting his face dragged across the concrete and his lunch money stolen. i imagine he starts to become rlly jaded and outwardly mean as a defense mechanism in like 2nd/3rd grade, finally realizing that this shit isnt all sunshines and rainbows lil bro and that no one likes him. he went to school with both honkan and kaoru, honkan he would always get into scuffles with but kaoru was like the only kid that ever genuinely attempted to be nice to iyami. read: attempted. because iyami has bpd at the ripe age of 7 and a half and screams at him whenever hes around for no reason other than that hes really scared of him being a genuinely kind person. hes a fucked up kid in a fucked up situation surrounded by nothing but apathy and misunderstanding of how he works and thinks and wants. the scar on his face comes from an incident with his older brother who i imagine got so mad at him one time that he chased iyami around with a knife threatening to slit his throat open. luckily (or probably more unluckily) he just sliced the side of his face open. that was the first and last time that iyamis mother actually worried for him. and by "worried" i mean get mad at both of them for fucking around like that and then not taking iyami to get stitches because "he'd be fine."

-iyami's highschool experience is. slightly less horrific. mostly because hes kinda just accepted that everyone in the whole world hates him and at some point realized he should just live out of spite to piss everyone else off. he never really had any career dreams mostly since the only career he realistically could have was wage slave in the city, which would be like sending him to death row for him. due to his autism and prolonged abuse from all sides, hes become kind of an expert at knowing how people work, though he doesnt necessarily understand any of it. he realizes that he would much rather be a backpeddler on the streets than a corporate slave, so when hes kicked out at like 16/17 for being literally just a curseon his mother at that point hes right out there trying to charm his way into any way to make money. first couple years were difficult, i imagine he just. didnt finish highschool due to being homeless immediately. he always had a kickass sense of style though, and maybe bc he was younger he managed to pull off charm much more successfully. honestly i dont have too many any specific ideas ab this era sowwy... bc it kinda just exists as "the part before chibita" which speaking of

-his twenties and thirties is spent like the exact same way. like the autism is strong in this one hes very content with just being the worst. but thats only because he literally sees no other way for him to live because its all hes been offered to do by life. quite fucked up! but that leaves him with a great optimism and positive "nothing in life matters!!!!" attitude. i actuallyyyyy dont know exactly how to span this next part.... but i was thinking that he met chibita when the kid was around 6 and iyami was 30. iyami just kind of... adopts him? as a weird sort of nephew. but at the same time iyami is in a perpetual state of childishness so sometimes chibita is like the parent/uncle to iyami. theyre so strange. but speaking of iyamis childishness Yeah theres some side effects of prolonged neglect and trauma since first memory surprisingly!! iyami kind of aged backwards, having to mature early to try and protect himself and keep some level of sanity, he was never really treated like a kid especially not by mother and brother or even other kids. now that he's an actual adult his brain has sort of flipped over, now stuck in a weird area of feigning immaturity in every situation that isnt immediately "life-threatening" in his eyes. all that to say that iyami is agere and is basically regressed somewhat at all times and it just varies depending on the situation.

but yeah this era. a couple years after meeting chibita he ships himself off to the city suddenly hoping to be able to make something happen there Kind of an early mid-life crisis moment. and boy it is not great! this part is where i dump the rest of trauma on him but you dont get to hear that. something something tougou's crime ring. after like a bit under a year he ends up coming back and... HOLY FUCK IS THAT A REFERENCE TO THE FIRST EPISODE OF OSOMATSU-KUN 1988??? you bet your sorry ass it is. im literally so smart they shouldve hired me to make ososan dude.

-osokun '88 era happens ig?? his old situationship behated kaoru is a cop now apparently and he's stationed right in iyami territory. quite awkward! kaoru doesnt particularly like him 1 because like. cop/criminal dichotomy first of all. 2 because iyami was a cunt to him and honkan for seemingly no reason their entire childhood and 3 iyami seems to have a really weird complex of being mean and hating kaoru currently but also obviously going out of his way to get in kaoru's way. quite immature! i explained why that is though. kaoru in his infinite sweetnes though eventually just kinda feels bad for the dude because its kinda just pathetic at this point and also because he DOES know that iyami is actually a super cute sweet guy because there was one (1) time where as a kid iyami let his guard down around kaoru and played with him at his house after school just to be completely ripped to shreds literally and figuaratively by his classmates the next day when kaoru was acting super friendly with him and iyami just kinda blamed him for it for like 20 years. VERY pathetic! but he was like 9 dude. kaoru understands this and kinda just... lets iyami wreak havoc more than he would other people partly bc he still thinks hes pretty silly.

i have a whole big episode idea of the two getting together and probably hundreds of headcanons and ideas about the two together but tbh?? im gonna spare you and keep it as paraphrased as i can manage for both of our sanities. but watch me go back and edit this post or make a new one just infodumping ab everything about them.

but like yeah ig events happen. hey do u remember iyami's "daughter" who is actually his niece because there is no fucking way in any reality that this guy has procreated?? well she comes in sometime around here becasue her father (still an untreated aspd) kind of doesnt give a shit and neither does her whore mother and they choose to dump their kid off with uncle iyami for the summers now. yay!! i also have a lot of headcanons and stuff ab her (her name is hiyori btw) but thats for another post.

iyami's family turns into basically him, his husband, and his two (sometimes three) (some not actually legit) (and one is gone when it isnt the summer) neicephews. isnt that awsome??? i cry and scream and throw up just thinking about it. sometimes iyami is the nephew but thats awesome. sometimes a family can be some gay man and an orphan that is his husband's nephew and his husband's actual niece, his husband's lesbian best friend that is basically an aunt at this point, and his husband who is sometimes also his nephew/child because of cptsd and they are all autistic. truly beautiful stuff.

and yeah thats. that. like i said i'll be updating this with better explanations of stuff and hopefully actual art But this works for now!!!! no one wanted this but the world got it anyway. you can thank me later.