#I need to find the sandwich time post again someone please I’m desperate | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

k1ngpin42 · 2 months

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Hey guys, this is my first post so I’ll need to set up some ground rules, feel free to skip.

First of all I write NSFW/18+ content, but I will write other content upon request. If you are a minor, evaluate whether or not you will interact with my content at your own risk, but if you find it innaproopitate, please scroll.

I’m an Abby girly, but this is just a Dina fic to test the waters, a full Abby NSFW fic will be released on my page soon too.

The plot dragged on more than I would have liked, I’ll have the smut in bold if u want to skip to that ;)

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Comforting Dina after Ellie leaves

You were relatively new to Jackson. You had been picked up by Jesse’s patrol when moving through a dangerous part of town and had been offered a place there if you could pull your weight. You are a good shot, and cook, for that matter, so finding your place wasn’t too difficult. Still, you felt like an outsider to people who had been there most or all of their lives, and Dina was one of the people who made the adjustment the smoothest.

You always felt safe with her, and had even developed feelings. When you watched her kiss Ellie that night in town, you let your heart break for the last time before moving on.

At least, you thought you had moved on. You still thought about her every day, even if you tried to push the thoughts away.

You were coming back from a regular supply route when you spotted a girl on a horse. She had beautiful, silky black hair in a bun and was wearing a pale yellow flannel.

Was that…?

“It’s Dina!” Someone called excitedly from the gate.

A sharp sensation ran through your body and you found yourself letting out a shaky breath you weren’t aware you had been holding.

Dina. The girl who in the middle of a fucking outbreak, has more fire than a group of soldiers combined. The girl who makes dumb jokes that only she could make sound so sweet. The girl who’s smile was brighter than any light the fireflies so desperately wanted to find, the girl you…liked.

You pull the reins and approach the gate swiftly, leaving your patrol group behind.

When you dismount at the gate and lock eyes with her, it was as if all your pain was, not forgotten, but almost gone. As if Dina had stuck bandaids over the wound.

Dina lets out an excited gasp and runs at you, holding you in her arms tightly.

“I was hoping you’d be here.” She speaks quietly, still smiling as she pulls away from the hug. You nod, barely looking into her eyes as you feel the heat rush to your cheeks.

“Is everything okay? Why’s Ellie not with you guys?” You ask as you plant a soft kiss on JJ’s forehead.

A pale look touches Dina’s ordinarily warm features, and you know immediately what that look implies.

“Oh…oh I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s fine. She’s gone.” Dina says, forcing a soft smile and ignoring the tears in her eyes.

“We’ll have a patrol pick up your stuff tomorrow.” Mariah says, approaching Dina and giving her a hug herself.

Mariah walks behind you, leaning in to your ear.

“Look after her, you’re dismissed from your duties today, your only job is putting a smile on that girl, okay?” She whispers, and Dina seems too lost in her own head to notice.

You nod. “Of course, thank you.”

You take her hand and lead her through the town.

“You hungry?” You ask, eyes wide with worry. She nods.

“Yeah, actually, but I don’t really want to be smothered by people right now.”

“Oh, sorry do you want me to-“

“No, I want you to stay.” She reaffirms, and you nod, still feeling considerably nervous.

You walk past the butcher and the man working there smiles brightly.

“It’s great to have you back Din’s!” Dina forces a smile again.

“Yea…thanks.” She says.

“Uh…What can I get you guys? It’s on me today.” The man says again. You nod and look at the options.

“I’ll get some of those sausages and I know it’s a stupid question but, do you have any steak?” He laughs.

“The answer to that would be no, but Dina can have my sandwich, I was saving it for later but it’s the real good stuff, had to give some trading cards and ammo but, I’m only the cook, what would I do with ammo anyways.”

“Kill me some steak maybe?” You remark, making Dina smile.

“I’m pretty sure he would kill the cow…I don’t think you can “kill steak” Dina informs her, an amused expression still evident.

“Potato potato Dina.” She turns to face the man again.

“What’s in it?” Dina asks.

“Premium pork-“

“She’s Jewish…” You say, instinctively. She looks at you and the man just has a confused expression.

“So…?”

“Well Jewish people typically don’t eat Pork or…shellfish, so-“

“Oh sorry, I didn’t know.

“How did you know that?” Dina asks. You shrug.

“You told me you were Jewish so I read a book about it.” You explain, matter-of-factly. She looks impressed, but doesn’t say anything.

The man hands you the bag with the meat inside.

“Thanks.” You say, leading Dina away again.

“Is there anyone you want to say hi to?” You question. You can hear the snow crunch under your feet. She shakes her head.

“Not today, not like this.” You nod.

“I’ll take you back to yours then, grill you up some lunch. Smothered in onion right?”

“The smellier the better.” She laughs weakly.

When you get to her place, the cold air hits you square on and you both shiver.

“Fuck it’s cold.” Dina remarks, and you can’t help but laugh at her bluntness.

“I’ll get a fire going.” You tell her, taking the lighter out of your pocket. You turn the power on and put the sausage in the fridge.

“I really need a shower…” Dina admits, and you turn to look at her again.

“Uh…alright, yeah I’ll just…I’ll just wait here.”

“Thanks.” She says, walking up to her room and folding up some clothes by her bed.

You then see her turn on the hot water generator and step in to the shower.

You wait by the fire for 5 minutes, then 10. Then, a faint voice over the bathroom exhaust.

“Hey can you come in here please?” You stand up, nervously and make your way to the bathroom, opening the door only a fraction and turning around so you can’t see her.

“I’m here…” You explain, your voice sounding more high pitched than usual and making you cringe.

“I couldn’t find a towel and it’s freezing out. Can you try and find one for me?” She asks. Your cheeks, now a new shade, shape into a nervous smile.

“Of course, where should I look?”

“My room, it’s at the top.”

“Sure.”

————————————

When you return, you see Dina, completely exposed, standing in front of you out of the shower.

You immediately turn around and shut your eyes, bumping into the door during the commotion. She chuckles.

“Turn around.” She instructs, and you do so with your hand over your eyes. Dina rolls her eyes, grabbing your hand and placing it back down.

“What are-“ You don’t even know what to say, you don’t even know what words are anymore. Instead, you just admire her body, the way her complexion paints her body like the artwork it is. The way her hips curve out ever so slightly in ways that her devilish clothing concealed.

“Why didn’t you write me?” She asks, trying not to smile at your currently dropped jaw.

“I um…” With her permission, you now glance at her breasts. You try to convince yourself you’ve never thought about what they might look like before, but you give up trying to convince yourself of that and decide they are more beautiful than anything you have or could have imagined.

“Did you not get my letters?” She asks, and now you look back to her eyes.

“Um…I did.” You admit, feeling the heat spread to the back of your neck now.

“Ah, so you just didn’t want to respond?” You roll your eyes.

“That’s not it.”

“Then what?” She asks, sounding more angry than you would have thought. She lets out a deep breath.

“I thought about you all the time, you know? Did you ever think about me?”

“All the time. But how was I supposed to respond? ‘Dear Dina, I’m so happy you and your girlfriend decided to raise sheep and a baby together away from everyone, I’d go visit but I have duty, send my regards to Ellie?’

“Okay, okay, but you could have at least kept me informed, tell me about your life, I mean you could have been dead for all I know.”

“You wouldn’t have believed that.”

“Don’t be so full of yourself. You may have never missed a shot with a rifle, you may not be the kind of girl to go into a house without taking out every single infected first, but I hate to break it to you, you’re not invincible. As unlikely at it would have been, you could have been dead.”

"Fine. But you wouldn’t have cared what I had to say anyway. ‘Dear Dina, I woke up, had breakfast, went on patrol with another stranger who I wished on everything was you instead, but they weren't. I went home, showered and slept like I do every day.”

“I would have cared. I do.” She mutters. You sigh.

“Well I’m sorry. It was just hard for me, hearing you so happy with someone so…”

Dina’s eyebrows raise.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have.”

“Finish your sentence.” Dina argues. You take a deep breath.

“Stupid. She was stupid to have left you, I never would.”

“Yeah well, Joel was the only person Ellie loved.”

“You don’t really believe that…”

“Well to think she truly loved me and chose to leave anyway for a bit of revenge hurts even worse.” You don’t know what to say, you just nod and hand her her towel. She tosses it on the ground.

“Want to hear what I left out in my letters?”

You’re still blushing over her naked body, but nod.

“sure.”

“Dear (reader) I’m trying to be happy with Ellie and JJ and yet all I can think about is you. Sometimes Ellie treats me like I’m nothing and I know why she does, but it hurts to think how well you would treat me if you were here. You’d probably tell me, “it’s okay…” She pauses. “I’m here…” You’d say.” You don’t know how to react to this, so you just keep listening.

“Dear (reader), Ellie left today, and even though it hurt, like nothings hurt before, I feel like a horrible person.” You walk towards her, looking upset at her words.

“Why would you feel like a horrible person?” Dina lowers her head, looking ashamed.

“Because even though I did love her, when she left it felt freeing, and then I saw you at that gate and it felt as if the part of me she took was never really gone at all.”

“Dina…”

“No, don’t fight it.” She says, grabbing your face and placing a warm kiss on your mouth. You sink into the heat of the kiss, tasting her more passionately now. You pull away from the kiss and you see her eyes, consumed with darkened lust.

“Dina.” You say again, more stern this time.

“You broke up with Ellie only a few weeks ago, you’re still hurting and I will NOT be your rebound. Not when I have spent almost an entire yer lo…” You stop yourself.

“You mean a lot to me Dina, I’m not going to ruin this-“

“Please.” Dina says, kissing your neck and making your legs feel weak as a result.

“I’ve been craving you for longer than you could ever realise. I didn’t even truly know till…till I saw you just now” She says between breaths, wrapping her arms over your neck to pull you into a hug. The warmth of her bare skin is elevating, and it feels like every sensation you experience is heightened.

“I’m not going to take advantage of you Dina.”

“You think I’m unattractive?” She asks, and you pull away from the hug, putting a hand on her face.

“Dina, when I look at you I don’t just see my best friend, I see the most beautiful of women. The girl I have liked since I first came to Jackson.” You explain, feeling emotional to bring these thoughts to words.

“You are a rare jewel, and I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret.”

“I know you think I’m not acting on logic, but there has always been something between us. Ellie…she was like an addiction, something I thought I needed to function. I always had to be one way with her, but with you I feel happy, safe. I’ve dreamt of this ever since Ellie and I broke up and I spent the whole ride here just wishing you would feel it back.”

Smutttttttt ya’lllll

—————————————————————

“I….don’t want you to regret this.”

“Then don’t give me anything to regret.” Dina speaks smoothly, kissing you deeply again. You sigh into her mouth and let your tongues dance as your hands slowly lower to her shoulders, your fingers gently trailing her cold skin, still damp and glistening with small water droplets.

You push her back against the sink, the air between you two barely existent as you gasp excitedly and desperately between kisses.

You lower yourself, putting yourself into a position between her legs.

“Can I?” You ask, and Dina gleams at the indication of what you want to do, her head leaning back with anticipation.

You take a moment to admire her cunt, drawing a line between her folds all the way up to her clit with your thumb.

She’s already wet. You can tell by the way your finger glides in, the way she glistens, it turns you on even more, if that were possible. Then, with your thumb still on her clit, you start doing tricks with your index finger, enjoying the sounds of her shaky breaths as you finger her with just the tip of your index finger.

You continue with your fingers, pushing your entire index finger inside this time. She cries out, moaning in pleasure. You remove your finger and suck your index and middle finger before putting them both inside her. You doubt it would have made a differences, she was so wet anyway it would have gone in like two pieces of a perfect puzzle. After caressing the inside of her cunt with your fingers for a few minutes, you decide to finally feed the burning desire to taste her, to feel her come undone on your tongue.

Without so much as a warning, you start eating away at her cunt, sucking and licking sloppily, savouring every inch of her like it’s a 3 course meal.

“F….fucking h… mmm…” Dina struggles, biting her middle finger softly in a barely successful attempt of suppressing the sounds escaping her lips.

You smile, using this as an excuse for more air before going back and attacking her again with your tongue. She tastes so fucking good. You could get drunk off the taste, in fact, you would be a fucking alcoholic if that was the case.

“Oh shit…Oh sh…mmm….so-“ She struggles, letting out a deeper moan this time. “good.”

You move your tongue faster in circular motions on her clit while sucking on her lower lips at the same time. By this point, anything Dina tries to say is inaudible, replaced with fast paced moans and whimpers.

“S….s…mmm…..so..clo-“ She cries out. You don’t stop. You keep going even after it pulses in your mouth and your throat is filled with your new favourite taste. The taste of her.

When it becomes too much for her, she pulls your face away, breathing deeply, eyes slightly shut from the overstimulation.

“Was that…” You hesitate, face red. “Good?” Dina laughs.

“Fuck off.” She manages, still in a stage of ecstasy.

“I don’t want to move too fast or anything but…do you want to have…” You say, clearing your throat “um…” Dina smiles again, nodding.

“Fuck yeah.” With this, you pick her up and bring her to the bedroom just outside the door. As soon as you two are on the bed, she practically tears your shirt off, immediately kissing all over your body. She flips you so her body is on top of yours.

“You look so fucking hot Dina…” You breathe out as she bites down slightly on your neck. She rolls her eyes playfully.

She pulls off your underwear, tossing it on the floor beside her bed.

“I want to do it to you too.” Dina says casually, and you initially feel insecure about letting her, but you agree.

“Mm.” You say as she disappears under the covers. You then feel her hands pulling your legs apart and you help part the way for her. You practically shiver as the starts tonguing your pussy delicately, with a lot more precision than when you did it to her, as if starved.

She then started sucking and the moan that left your mouth was instantaneous. She keeps going and you feel yourself started to soak as you claw on to the bed sheets below.

“Feels so good.” You say, and she keeps going till you feel your body tremble and pulse. She looks up at your, feeling satisfied with your expression. She wipes her mouth with her thumb and then sucks on it for a second, maintaining eye contact with you.

So goes back to the previous position, pulling your body down so it’s below her.

“It’s still cold.” She states as the bareness of your bodies connect. You smirk beneath her.

“Whatever will we do about it?”

“Just shut the fuck up and fuck me.” She orders, and so you let her have her way.

She pushes your leg down and positions herself so she is sitting over it, then you feel her pussy rub on yours and your eyes immediately roll back at the sensation. Without the pleasure of your clit even in the equation yet, you feel as if you’re melting.

Then, she pulls you in closer, moving you just right and making you moan desperately.

“Dina please…” You sigh out as she moves her hips painfully slow in a circular motion.

“J…just like that.” You say again.

Her hands are on your thighs when she starts to pick up speed. She’s moaning too now, her beautiful features looking even better covered in sweat and pleasure.

“Faster….please?” You ask, your voice sounding more helpless than you would have liked. She continues at her current pace, a cruel smirk on her mouth.

“This…” She gasps, riding the sensation. “Is for not stopping earlier when I had already…” You try to increase your own pace and she shoves your legs back down with her full body strength.

“You can come when I say.” She gasps, wrapping her fingers softly around your neck.

“You like that?”

“Mmm.” You reply, eyes closed shut. It isn’t long before a familiar sensation stirs in the pit of your stomach, as bad as you wanted to come, and also didn’t want this to end, it was the best and most conflicting thing you had ever experienced. ,

Dina finally complied and went faster, and you sing out a chorus of moans and whispers.

“I’m gonna cum…” Dina says, still holding you close. “Cum with me.” She says again. You nod, kissing her quickly as you both release on top of each other, liquid lining your bodies and trailing down onto the bed.

You just hold each other, ignoring the stickiness of the situation and letting comfortable silence fall before you too fall back onto the bed, looking into her eyes fondly.

“Do you…regret it yet?” You ask. She shakes her head.

“The only thing I regret is wasting all that water, I’m going to need another shower after all that…excitement.” You both laugh. You lean into her ear and whisper, “We can save water by showering together?” Her smirk widens and she nods.

“The things we do for this town.”

“Mhm.”

#dina tlou #dina x reader #tlou #tlou2 #smut #18+ content #ellie williams 18+#ellie x fem reader

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hammeredalcoholic · 3 years

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my only friend

kira yoshikage / reader ;

rating: mature, no 18+ content yet ; kira & reader are portrayed as 18 years old ; tension at the end of chapter

here is chapter 2! link to chapter 1. hope you guys enjoy this, i am falling back in love with writing this thing. cross posted to ao3.

here is a spotify playlist to go with this fic.

“you've been riding two wheelers all your life it's not like i'm asking to be your wife i wanna make you mine, but that's hard to say is this coming off in a cheesy way?”

The skies were covered in clouds, smoldering and dark, threatening to spill rain at any time. The air was chilly, causing goosebumps to line your arms and make the hairs on your neck stand up. Fall was just upon you, the summer months had passed within seconds it seemed. Not that you really cared-- autumn was beautiful, bringing colored trees and pretty sunsets.

Your shoes scuffed against the concrete you sat upon, your fingers barely holding onto a lit cigarette. You really ought to quit-- but the high of nicotine was just too much to give up. The taste of tobacco on your tongue was all you tried to focus on, but it was hard.

Hard when you sat outside of a dingy apartment, of a person you didn’t know, waiting for your companion to take their miserable life.

This was normal. You’d go a few days on the road, staying at whichever place you could, before Yoshikage started to feel the urges, as he called them. He had said it once before to you, and it was something that you hadn’t been able to quite let go.

“I just-- can’t help it,” His words were soft, and small. His hands were fidgeting in his lap, ghosting over the frayed edges of his baby blue sweater. “I can’t control myself when I get this way. It’s just that it’s in my nature to kill.”

Kira’s eyes were hidden behind his blond bangs, deep and dark and full of sorrow. He couldn’t help that he was this way, despite the fact that he wanted to live a quiet life. He didn’t want to be a bother on others, but it seemed like he had just dug himself in a hole.

Your mind jumped from that memory to another. The phone call. The one that changed your life drastically.

3:31 AM flashed on your alarm clock. The landline was ringing, practically jumping off your bedside table. Who the hell would need to call you right now? All of Morioh should be asleep-- your hand reached for it, gently picking it up off the receiver and holding it to your ear.

“Hello?”

A shaky voice was on the other end. Distant and gravely-- barely speaking above a whisper.

“D-Did I wake you up? I-I’m so sorry,” He sounded awful. Hiccups between every word, and you were positive he had been crying. “Yoshikage-- What happened? What’s going on?”

Yoshikage Kira had never sounded like this. He sounded so broken-- like a glass vase shattered across a concrete floor. There was a small hiccup, and a breathy sigh on the other end. “I made-- I made a big mistake. I need your help.”

A big mistake? What the hell did that mean?

“Can you please meet me at Reimi Sugimoto’s house? You know where that is right?” He sounded even more desperate with each passing second. Yes, you did know where she lived-- it was on your walking path to and from school everyday. It should only take you about 5 minutes to get there, if you booked it.

“Yes, yes, okay. I’ll be there soon. Whatever you do, don’t run away.” With those words being said, the line was cut off. Quickly, and being as quiet as possible, you got some pants and a sweatshirt on, stuffing a pillow under your blankets to make it seem like you were still sleeping. Thinking semi-clearly, you grabbed a backpack and put some extra clothes and your trusted pocket knife inside.

Slinging the bag over your shoulders, you grabbed your keys from your desk and slipped out of your room. This wasn’t the first time you had snuck out, so you knew each creak and cranny in the wooden stairs leading to the main entrance of your house. As quickly as you could, you slipped out of the house without a sound.

You quickly bolted to your car that was slightly down the street, thanking your past self for the distance. Your parents wouldn’t hear the car start, or you driving off to save your friend. Hopping in and starting the engine up, you quickly left in the direction of the Sugimoto residence.

Screams were faint in your ears.

Deciding that another cigarette was inevitable, you quickly pulled it out of the pack and lit it. You could have waited in the car, but-- you didn’t want Yoshikage to get hurt. You wanted to be there for him until the very end, so there you sat, against the grimy brick wall, feeling all sorts of out of place.

You let your mind drift again.

Driving well over the speed limit, you made it there in less than 3 minutes. From the outside of the house, it didn’t look like much had happened. The lawn was normal, the house the same as when you had driven past yesterday. That was until you noticed him-- a figure, clad in a pale blue sweater, sitting on the front steps of the building.

His hands, covered in his sleeves, were pressed firmly against his face. If it hadn’t been in the middle of the night, you would have been able to make out the bright red stains that coated his clothes. Quickly pulling the car to the side of the road, you got out without a second guess.

Quickly rushing up to the boy, you stopped only feet away from him.

“Yoshi… What-- What happened?” Blood. Blood on his sleeves-- his pants-- his hair. Fuck, his face was even coated in it. His hands dropped from his face, and he looked up at you with wide, cold-dead eyes. They were bright red and puffy, telling that he was sobbing his eyes out only moments previously.

“I-- I made a mistake.” Kira’s voice was only a whisper. If you hadn’t been listening, you would have thought it to be the midnight wind. “What mistake?” You pressed, stepping closer to the seated boy.

“I-- I,” Yoshikage stuttered, before tears lined his eyes. “I killed them.” He spoke so softly, before looking at his blood stained hands. “I killed them.” He stated, louder, looking up at you again. “I killed her parents. Her dog. And then-- her.” His voice was shaking, tears now freely flowing down his cheeks. “I don’t-- I don’t know what to do.”

You stared at him in disbelief. He-- Yoshikage Kira, the boy that grew up with you, silent but friendly, playing with only you throughout elementary, hanging out with you during middle school and high school-- your best friend. He had killed someone. Not someone, multiple people.

Fist shaking at your sides, chills running up your spine, sweat practically dripping from your temple.

You had a choice to make.

Leave him, let him get caught-- probably executed. Or--

“I’ll help you. Let’s go.”

You’ve never seen Kira’s eyes light up like that before. Bright blue, even in the pale moonlight. They were so blue, you swore you could have gotten lost in them. That’s your favorite part of the memory, thinking back on the relief he must have felt. It sent warmth through your body, butterflies floating in your stomach.

You knew, despite how much you question your own motives now and again, you wouldn’t be able to leave Kira. He’s been a staple in your life, much like you must have been to him. Why would he ask you for help if that wasn’t the case?

The skies had grown dark as you were reminiscent, and your stomach growling had alerted you that it might not be a bad idea to get some food. Glancing at the door to the apartment, you briefly wondered if Yoshikage would even notice if you left. But, then again, he might be hungry too. You weighed your options, and decided it would be best to just ask him.

Getting up to your feet, you flicked the butt of your cigarette over the railing of the complex. Your feet tingled with sleep, and your fists clenched as you stared at the awful wooden door. Your mind ran a million miles an hour, going through several thoughts about what he could possibly be doing behind that wretched piece of wood.

Just as you were about to knock on the door, it opened.

Kira stood there, eyes wide when he noticed you standing in front of him. He was absolutely drenched in blood-- his sweater was stained, khakis barely recognizable. His face and hair were also decently covered. His eyes quickly darted to his ruined chucks, and he spoke very softly.

“I-- I’m done.”

You let out a quick sigh of relief, and decided not to question him. “Well if that’s the case, how about we go get some food and find a place to clean you up?” Kira didn’t say anything, just nodded. With that, you both left the apartment complex.

As the night went on, you both decided that getting some fast food and trying to find a laundromat was in order. You were rather thankful for the dark, as the person who took your measly ones at the burger joint didn’t even bat an eye at your companion’s appearance.

Luckily, there was a laundromat just down the street. Pulling up and parking in the vacant lot, you both got out your burgers and ate in relative silence.

After downing your food in what felt like 3 bites, you looked over at your friend. He didn’t look like he was thinking about much-- his hands were steady, eyes somewhat glossed over from the food, and completely ignoring the fact that he was still very much covered in blood.

“Do you feel better?” The words felt almost foreign on your tongue, despite feeling like you asked him this every single time. Kira looked over at you, swallowing the bite he was chewing before responding. “Yeah. I do,” He rolled up the remaining half of his sandwich in the wrapper, putting it back in the bag. “But I would like to clean up my clothes.”

You snorted, grabbing your drink from the console and taking a few gulps. “I’m sure you would. It looks like it’s fairly empty in there, so I’m sure we’ll be fine.” You glanced at the clock in your car, and the bright red numbers informed you that it was well past midnight at this point. Kira must have noticed it too, and he began to get out of the vehicle.

Doing the same, you pulled the bag of quarters you keep in the console out and stuffed them in your pocket. You followed Yoshikage inside, quickly turning and locking your car before entering the building.

The place was very much run down-- old washing machines lined the dirty walls. Neon lights glimmered from outside, casting weird shadows across the floor. Kira kept walking to the back of the building, deciding to use the machines that were farthest from the windows. You followed him absentmindedly, hoping up on one of the machines and pulling out your little sack of change.

Yoshikage’s eyes glanced at your before they went down to his feet, and he quickly shrugged off his baby blue sweater. You swore that thing had been through its life cycle already-- ever since he got it at the beginning of high school, it seemed to be the only article of clothing he wore. He threw it into the washing machine next to you, his hands going back up to unbutton his undershirt.

At that point, you found it hard not to stare.

Yoshikage Kira may have been your best friend from preschool to now, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t attractive. Bright blonde curls and icy blue eyes-- along with a jawline that could surely cut glass.

The coins in your hand quickly became your second priority, as your eyes lingered on each inch of skin he revealed. This wasn’t even your first time seeing him semi-nude-- he sleeps in the same bed as you most nights. But this-- this was different.

Soon enough his button up was shrugged off and tossed in the washer, and you quickly averted your eyes to the coins you held in your palm. You were playing a very dangerous game, and you weren’t sure what Kira would do if he caught you looking at him like a piece of meat.

As you tried to count the quarters that were needed for the machine to run, you heard your companion’s shoes be kicked off. Then, the sound of a button and fly being undone made your cheeks heat up within seconds. Your mind was doing mental backflips, going back and forth between looking, and keeping your eyes down.

From the corner of your eyes, you saw his soiled khakis drop around his ankles, and he carefully stepped out of them, throwing them in the machine.

“Hey. I need a dollar and twenty-five cents to start it.” His words practically made you jump, and you held out your palm with the money he needed. Kira easily noticed how flustered you were, and let his fingers linger in yours while he took the coins. Soon enough, the machine roared to life, and you heard Kira take a seat next to you.

Swallowing your pride, you decided it wasn’t worth avoiding his gaze, so you looked over at him.

His skin was almost glowing in the awful lighting of the building, collar bones prominent and his muscles were exceptionally toned. You felt your eyes linger on his hips, almost tracing the V shape that dipped into his boxer briefs. As soon as you realized what you were doing, your eyes immediately went up to meet his own.

They had grown dark, silver pools watching your every move. A small smirk had formed on his lips, and you almost had to bite your lip from making any sort of noise.

Your mind screamed at you to look away. Stop staring at him and just look at literally anything else.

But then, something else happened that made your world turn upside down.

Did he fucking wink?

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souljoon · 4 years

Text

Like a fool (pt.1)

pairing: teacher!jungkook x cafe owner!reader word count: 2k genre: fluff, smut, ex lovers au warnings: sexual content, slight dom!jungkook, sub!reader, unprotected sex (stay safe loves!)

synopsis: Everyone in the neighborhood knows you and Jungkook will inevitably end up in a wedlock despite the complicated status of your on-and-off relationship. While you want to keep a civil relationship with him, Jungkook learned not to care about labels long ago since the first time you two broke up. Whatever you’d say, he intends to keep his place in your heart taken for the rest of your life.

~~~

“Your beau is here,” Jimin prompted behind you.

Without turning in his direction, your attention to the carrot cake remaining glued to the carrot cake you were currently frosting about.

At this point, you wouldn’t even be surprised to see Jungkook on the opposite side of your bed in the morning. He seems to find it amusing to see you evidently pissed whenever he’s around. How couldn’t you? He not only takes over Jimin’s job but he often causes a scene with the customers in the cafe—which, to fuel more of your unspoken frustration, are students from the nearby community college.

You couldn’t admit how the attention he was getting from people of different gender identities still bothers you despite the mutual decision to call the engagement off. You understand your ex-fiance is a very attractive man. And his charisma could probably stir attraction from married women regardless of their age.

Over the course of six years of a complicated relationship with him, you two had already been in two break ups in college, citing his laid back self in college and your endless insecurities that urged you to try to get away from him, from the spell he had on you.

While you decided to pursue your dream to start your own cafe business post-graduation, Jungkook surprisingly landed on a teaching job in Jung-do High School which is also located in the same neighborhood two years ago.

Footsteps are, again, back in the kitchen. “He just wore an apron. So I’m guessing he’s here until the shop closes.” It was Jimin, informing you yet again as if it was part of his job to report Jungkook’s every move to you.

This time, you sweep a brief glance behind. “Don’t let the counter vacant, Chim.” You say, cleaning up the cake board as a finishing touch to your masterpiece.

“He took over the counter, _____. How am I supposed to make him go away when he’s our own human advertisement. He’s attracting more customers!”

With a glare darted to his direction, you suggest, “Then I guess I should replace you with him, instead?”

Jimin visibly sulked, not really wanting to argue with you—his boss. “Fine!”

Six months. That’s how long you’ve been single since. Sure he had you wrapped around his fingers back then. But you wanted to prove to him and to yourself that you can live without him. However, it’s too impossible to keep up with it when he freely deems himself welcome wherever you are, maintaining his act of indifference toward the real score between you.

Intending to place the cake in the display, you finally went out of the kitchen-- ironically, just in time to run into him. Jungkook being the shameless ex-boyfriend that he is, took the cake in your hands.

He was wearing a gym class outfit— a pair of black adidas sweatpants, and a plain, white shirt over a black hoodie. If only you were not trying to stay as far as possible away from him, you’ll probably tease him about his own dress code. He doesn’t look like he just got out of his class as the teacher. He looked like he just went out of bed before he came here.

“Aren’t you supposed to be home?” You ask from behind him.

“I’m bored,” he simply replied.

“What do you mean you’re bored? Haven’t you just got off work?”

He spun around, startling you when you came face to face with him. If you couldn’t properly see his entire face before, you do now much to your annoyance.

He sighs. “I did. Look, I’m just helping Jimin-hyung out here. I won’t bother you, I swear.”

“You don’t have to because you’re not my employee, Kook.”

“Well, I could use some part time if you’re hiring.” Jungkook shrugs.

Here we go, again.

Your eyes narrowed to which roused him to raise his hands up defensively.

“Jagiya—”

“Lovebirds,” Jimin suddenly interrupts.

“What?!” You both snapped back at Jimin’s direction.

“Whoa, tone it down— you two. Restroom is right there in case you need to release the sexual tension. It’s getting intense out here.” He jests, making a shooing motions with his hands.

Jungkook wasted no more time and took it as his cue to grab your wrist, dragging you with him as he navigated the way past the kitchen into the storage room.

A temporary relief washes through you when Jungkook brought you in this enclosed, rather safe space instead of the restroom. However, dread slowly consumes your whole being when you hear the familiar sound of the knob locking.

Jungkook pivoted back, facing you. “Let’s talk here.”

Your eyes lingered down where his hand maintained his grasp around your wrist. “Why? There’s nothing else to talk about.”

“For the umpteenth time, I saw the landlord across the street like he was waiting for someone,”

You look up, quirking up an eyebrow at his sudden shot of a subject relating to Seokjin. “What’s your point?”

“I don’t trust him.” He deduces, childishly.

“What do you want me to do, find another leasing property? This shouldn’t concern you in the first place. You never once heard anything from me about Joohyun.” You mentally cursed, unable to stop yourself from mentioning the name of the woman he was seen in a restaurant a week ago.

“What’s Joohyun got anything to do with this?”

You scoff. “You know what, I don’t need to answer that. We’re not together anymore so it’s none of my business.”

Jungkook seized your attempt to leave, latching onto your arm just in time. As he pulls you back, you were met with the subtle amusement plastered obnoxiously on his face.

“We’re not done here, baby. So... Joohyun, really? My colleague?” A laugh slips out of him, seemingly pleased. You, on the other hand, felt insulted on his take of your serious remark. Your blood started rising up. So the rumors aren’t true?

You jerked away. Well... tried to, because your hand stayed locked around his firm grip. “Let me go, I need to go back to the kitchen.”

You stepped back when he abruptly inched forward. You were puzzled for a second, but when your back touched the surface of the door, you knew you fell from his trap as he steadied himself with his palms pressed flat above your head. You turned your face away, avoiding his heated gaze. But the gesture only gave Jungkook a room to nestle his head on the exposed skin of your neck.

The moment you felt his warm lips touch your skin, you squeezed your eyes shut. “You’ve been pretty good at keeping a safe distance from me, baby. You have no idea how much I fucking miss you, missed keeping you all to myself like this.” He expresses in a thick, sultry tone.

You shake your head, knowing full well what he meant. “We c-cant, Jimin is--”

“--not here.” He finishes, pressing his lower body against yours and teasing your sweet spot with a gentle suck. The bulge on his mid-region was enough to make your panties wet instantaneously and your body heats up too quickly.

“Jungkook,” his name slips out of your mouth.

“Please tell me you’re still in birth control.” He desperately murmurs against your skin on the curve of your neck.

You frantically bobbed your head, lost at the hot trail of kisses he’s leaving on your skin.

With an eager pull of the strings on his nape and back, he rids the apron off of his front followed by a swift pull of his sweatpants with his boxers, just enough to release his hard member.

Your mouth instantaneously watered at the sight of the maddeningly pink head and aroused length, thick and hard just the way you remembered it the last time Jungkook fucked you. It happened in his car three months ago. You were too intoxicated then to control yourself from jumping up into his lap as he drove you back to your apartment. To keep your pride intact, you tried to steer clear from repeating the same mistake again. Not when you’re not officially back together.

Right now, you’re too sexually neglected to care about anything.

“I want you in my mouth,” you beg, not believing you sounded incredibly hasty than you actually have estimated.

He swats your hand off when he sensed your hand extending towards his crotch, “I’d love to fuck your mouth baby, but we don’t have that much time. I need to be inside your pussy,” You felt his palms scooping you up through your butt, sandwiching you between his body and the door. Your legs automatically weaving around his hips to steady yourself.

Then pushes your underwear aside, “This is probably the only reason why I love you wearing skirts. Easy access—fuck baby, so tight.” He barely sank his cock in, yet you could already feel the sting of your walls as they stretch around him.

Your hand flew to the back of head, eager to bury your fingers beneath his curly locks.

Just as you part your mouth to speak to encourage more his entrance, he suddenly propels his hips forward, pushing his dick to the hilt which roused a cry from you.

“Fucking tight! I’m gonna break you so much you won’t ever forget about me. You understand, darling?”

“Yes, yes, please fuck me!” You cried out, reeling from both the sting of your muscles caused by his forceful entrance, and the familiar warmth filling you full.

Without bothering to warm you up, he began a breathtaking pace despite his overwhelming intrusion. You didn’t mind, though. In fact, his thrusts were making your moans irrepressible and your thighs tremble in delight.

Jungkook places his head between the valleys of your covered mounds, not missing his faint grunts, lost in his own pleasure.

“You like that, huh? You like the idea of being fucked outside, baby girl? I’ve had enough this bullshit,” He growls with a series of rough jerk of his hips, forcing a cry of his name out of you.

“That’s right, moan my name. Just wait until I get you all alone tonight, I’ll make sure you won’t ever think of breaking up with me. Do you hear me?” He warns darkly, emphasizing the severity of his threat with a shove of his dick so deep his tip was heavenly kissing your precious spot from your insides.

“Oh god,” you lamented, deliriously.

You could already feel the building up in your abdomen just as fast as he started rocking into you. You’ve known him long enough for you to easily sense it was the same for him too, concealing his moans with his mouth latched onto your prickly skin.

“That’s right. Come for me!” he grunted in between powerful thrusts.

His command did the trick, sending your body forward as you exploded, your walls tighten around him with each snap of his hips against your pelvis. Soon enough, he jerked off his load inside you with a growl rumbling on his chest.

Grimace creases on your expression as he cautiously pulls his cock out, following his load combined with your juices gushing out of your pussy down to the insides of your thighs.

Barely recovered from the earth shattering orgasm you had for the first time in three months, you heard a series of banging coming from the other side of the door.

“You done, lovebirds?” Your eyes clenched shut in realization, quietly plotting the assassination of some guy named Jimin.

“Thanks for ruining the moment,” Jungkook retorts back. “Not a problem. You guys seriously need to get the fuck out, I ran out of beans in the jar and try not fuck each other here next time, yeah?”

Amused with the scene unfolding, Jungkook casually pushes your underwear back to its place, smoothening your skirt down as if nothing inappropriate had occurred here. He kisses the tip of your nose, before turning the knob of the door.

Couldn’t this get any more embarrassing?

~~~

Thank you for reading and apologies for any spelling/ grammatical errors. I havent edited this yet. Part 2 will most likely be posted on Monday or Tuesday :)

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts imagines

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pseudofaux · 3 years

Note

Pseu! Thank you so much for blessing so many people with lovely lovely craven sin (among other sweet things)!

Could I request HCs for Vincent/MC/Shakespeare where the suitors were already in some kind of relationship before MC slipped in the mix? Please feel free to make these as filthy or saccharine as you would like!

Rather than giving three specific topics, I'd like to pull three different scents from Shakespeare's perfume cabinet 😌

~ Sandalwood

~ Lavender

~ Orange Blossom

Thank you!!

This is so fun! I love the idea and I loooooove the fragrance notes, those were very fun to keep in mind, thank you! Two clean...ish, one desperately in need of a bath. But all very lovey, which I hope will work for you. Thank you for helping me with my writing lately, I can't tell you how grateful I am! I really hope you will enjoy these.

(Requests are closed, I’m still working on ones from earlier this year! Just a few left, will post a masterlist when they are all done.)

Orange Blossom is the warmth of their sheets, a freshness that lingers around them even when they leave the bed and then scents their good morning kisses, which are gentle and sunlight-soft. In a triad they can each hold one another’s hands, quietly rub their faces against each other, and perhaps slide tongues in slow blessings, all to reconnect after sleeping in warm togetherness. It’s not about heading back to bed, it’s about preparing one another to be brave for the day and fill each other up with touch and love until they can be together again. Soft. They sit her down at the vanity table and tidy her hair for her as they dress themselves. She anchors them like a star, and indeed they feel as though they rotate around her now in the perfect order they were always meant to.

Sandalwood is the scent on napkins brought into Vincent’s studio for an unexpected lunch, and it makes a simple meal feel like a feast. Midday light streams in through the windows and it turns the room into a palace and the crumbs that decorate their laps into golden dust. They were once two, and Will could not easily bring a picnic to this place... but it is easier now, and she is giggling, Will is grinning behind his sandwich, and Vincent realizes he is smiling, too, so deeply his precious loves vanish from his sight when his eyes close and his head bows, as it must when he is so grateful as he is right now.

And it is lavender that perfumes...

It is lavender that perfumes the clawfoot tub they insist Will find his place in. Vincent has done this a few times on his own, but by now she’s joined them before. They sink him into the bubbles and the pepperdust sweetness of the lavender bath and then go to their gentle work sudsing his hair and running a soft cloth along his shoulders and arms. He’s stiff beneath their ministrations... but only for awhile, and his quiet sigh of surrender slides him further into the water. After he is clean, they keep him there and torment him with kisses light as moonbeams and touches that begin to slide toward his belly. Their sleeves are wet, but then he is in two hands at once and an anguished cry flies up to the ceiling when the back of his neck finds the lip of the tub. There is splashing but he can only think on how they are touching him, how silky the water makes every caress. Then they start talking and he can’t think at all.

Vincent, what do you do with someone you love when you know they need extra care?

You care for them, of course.

And they care for him until he shouts, forces himself to stand, and feels the lavender bathwater and bubbles trickling down his body and dripping from his hair as he takes himself in hand and finishes into two pairs of eager, outstretched palms that wait for their victory.

#shannie-pie #ikevamp vincent x mc x shakes #ikevamp headcanons #ikevamp HCs #ikevam HCs #ikevam headcanons #ikevamp vincent #ikevamp shakespeare #pseu slings

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joonie-beanie · 4 years

Text

Stress Relief

Pairing: Barbatos x Reader x Diavolo

Word Count: 10,061

Preview: The Royals have been bogged down with a busy workload, so you decided to help relieve some of their stress in whatever way you can.

Read as: Barbatos has a thing for rope bondage, and Diavolo is just happy to be involved.

This chapter is also being posted as a part of my “Devil Doms” series on AO3.

Also! This is a follow-up to Bath Time, and Helping Hands, so if you haven’t read those, I would recommend doing that first!

For as long as you’ve known Barbatos, you’ve assumed that the butler is perfect in every sense of the word. He’s skilled, and handles his tasks without complaint, and in a timely manner. He addresses his duties with a kind smile—never wavering.

Despite his busy schedule, he never shows signs of cracking.

…until today.

You walk into RAD that fateful Friday morning, and discover Barbatos in the student council room—frowning. Now, seeing Barbatos frown is not entirely out of character. You’ve seen him frown in worry, and in concentration. He does have emotions, after all, but…today he just looks stressed.

There are dark circles under his eyes. The way he’s hurriedly searching through papers—a few slipping off the table and onto the floor—is a sign of his current out-of-character state.

Without second thought, you stride into the room and begin picking up the papers on the floor. Barbatos startles ever so slightly when he notices you at his feet—too absorbed in his current task to have heard you approach.

He sighs.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

“Are you okay?” you respond to his quiet, tired words. There’s genuine concern in your eyes as you press to your full height, and hand the small stack of papers back to him. “I’ve never seen you like this before…”

“It’s been quite a hectic week…or two,” he admits, exhaling in relief as he finally uncovers the report he’d been looking for. “Typically, like students, Lord Diavolo and I are able to rest on the weekends—only dealing with a few, small meetings here or there. But the last two weeks, every day is busy from dawn to dusk.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you say sincerely. You reach out and give his shoulder a gentle squeeze. Barbatos smiles at the gesture. Then, in an uncharacteristic turn of events, he sets the paper in his hand back on the desk, and turns to fully face you. He envelops you in a tender hug—one of his hands wrapping around your waist while the other moves to cradle against the back of your head.

“You’ll have to forgive me for this sudden display of affection,” he mumbles, his breath tickling your ear as his cheek nuzzles against your hair. “I didn’t realize how much being unable to see you on Sunday would affect me during the week.”

His admission has your cheeks heating up ever so slightly, and you lift your arms—wrapping them tightly around his middle.

Due to Barbatos and Diavolo’s lack of free time, the two had been forced to cancel their tea time with you the previous weekend. You’d been disappointed, considering you’d gotten so used to ending your week in the company of the two, but there was nothing you could do about it. If they were busy, you’d have to suck it up.

“Will you be free this weekend?” you ask him, pulling back to look into his green eyes. He can see the concern, and longing in your gaze. Apparently, you’ve missed him and his Lord as well.

“I can work around your schedule, since I don’t have much to do. Of course, if you’re both too busy, I’ll understand, but—”

He cuts you off with a kiss to your forehead.

“I will double check the schedule and contact you later.” He reaches over and grabs the stack of papers—topped with the report he’d been looking for. As he takes the neat stack into his arms, he turns and flashes you one last smile.

“Thank you for the brief moment of peace. It is greatly appreciated.”

With that, he makes his way out of the student council room with the normal poise and grace he always exhibits. Once alone, you take a deep breath, and hold a hand to your cheek. It’s warm—painted with a light blush.

Really, it’s rare that Barbatos is the one to initiate a show of affection with you. Typically, you’re the one hugging him (although he always reciprocates).

The last time he had initiated skinship was weeks ago, after he’d paid you a visit at the House of Lamentation due to your ailing back.

Memories of that night attempt to push to the forefront of your mind, and you desperately try to shove them away. It’s the middle of the day—you don’t need to be thinking about Barbatos’ hands on your skin, or the way his fingers had felt inside of you…the way he’d looked while his dick was in your mouth…his cute post-orgasm face…

Shaking your head, you smack your red cheeks. You don’t need to be thinking about those types of things during school hours.

Yes, it’s been a few weeks since that fateful day with the royal butler, and you’d be lying if you said he hadn’t crossed your mind sexually every so often since then. However, you’d gotten bogged down with school work—any of your scarce free time going to the brothers—so despite your longing, and Barbatos’ offer of another massage if you wished, you hadn’t gotten a chance to ask.

Then, of course, once your schedule had opened up, Barbatos’ had narrowed. His duties piled up—filling his days with work—and you’d have felt far too guilty asking him for anything on top of his already busy schedule.

Aside from last Sunday, you’d still managed to maintain your weekly appointment of Sunday evening tea with the butler and Demon Prince, but bringing up sexual favors while sipping on Earl Grey and eating tiny sandwiches hardly seemed appropriate.

So, you’ve accepted that maybe it will be a while until you’re able to inquire about Barbatos’ services again. And while it’s a little disappointing, you don’t intend to push the matter. Barbatos already works so hard, and you don’t want to burden him with your sexual need.

Taking a deep breath, you grab the straps of your backpack, and nod to yourself. While you long for another massage experience from the royal butler, you can live without one. Right now, you just want his schedule to clear up, so you can resume your regular Sunday tea with him and Diavolo. And if that’s all you’re able to receive, at the moment, then you’ll still be satisfied.

Smiling, you finally step out of the student council room and make your way to your next class.

Hours later—as you’re heading back to your room following dinner with the brothers—you feel your DDD vibrate. Curious, you pull out the device and look at the notification lingering on the screen.

[New Text from Barbatos]

Your heart skips a beat—nervous to see the contents. There’s a big possibility that the royals are still busy this weekend, and that they won’t be able to squeeze you in anywhere.

You take a moment to calm yourself before clicking into the message.

Barbatos: I apologize for my late follow-up. It seems that Lord Diavolo and I will not be available for our normal Sunday Tea time again.

Barbatos: However, I am free starting at 7pm on Saturday evening, if you would like to come over. Lord Diavolo will be tied up with a meeting until a bit later, but he expressed interest in joining should the meeting adjourn at an acceptable hour.

Barbatos: I understand if you already have plans, but please let me know if I should expect you.

You’d already promised to have a self-care night with Asmo on Saturday, but honestly—you’re sure that he’ll understand.

You: That works just fine for me! I will be over at 7 tomorrow.

Barbatos responds with a happy sticker, and you find yourself smiling. You can’t wait to see them.

The hours tick by slower than you think possible the following day as you wait for evening to come.

Due to the addition into your schedule, you and Asmo change your self-care night to a self-care afternoon. Thankfully, Gossiping with the Avatar of Lust--while doing face masks, and sipping on mimosas--definitely helps to pass the time quicker.

The two of you finish up just before dinner, and head down to the dining hall together. You eat merrily with the 7 brothers—making conversation, and listening to their banter. By the time the table is cleared, and everyone’s bellies are full of food, it’s already nearing 6:30.

Hurrying back to your room, you make sure you look presentable. You mess with your hair—trading your shorts and tank top for a knee-length sundress. Not only has the Devildom been heating up lately, but you always try to dress a bit nicer in front of the royals. So, a sundress should be perfect for the occasion.

Throwing your DDD into a small purse Satan had gifted you some time ago, you sling the bag over your shoulder and make your way from your room. You run into Lucifer by the front door, and he surveys you with a knowing look.

“You’re headed to the Demon Lord’s Castle, correct? I’ll walk you part way. I’m leaving to meet someone in town.”

“Thanks,” you smile, stepping through the front door when he holds it open for you. The two of you then start away from the House of Lamentation, comfortably at each other’s sides.

“How did you know that I’m heading to the Castle?” you ask him as you walk. You don’t recall sharing your plans for the night with any of the brothers. Even when you’d changed the time of your plans with Asmo, and he had inquired, you’d just said that something had come up. (He had begrudgingly accepted that response—too curious for his own good).

“I had a meeting with Barbatos and Diavolo this morning,” he tells you, eyes ahead as he guides you through the crowded streets. “Diavolo was whining about how he hopes his meeting with the planning committee tonight won’t drag on too long, so he can join you and Barbatos before it’s time for you to leave.”

“I mean…how late can the meeting possibly drag?” you question, blinking innocently. There’s no way a meeting will last beyond…10…11pm, right?

“Depending on the matters that need to be discussed, I’ve witnessed the meeting last until 2 in the morning,” he informs you with a shake of his head. “Diavolo hates speaking with the committee more than anything, so I hope he’ll be able to wrap things up in a timely manner.”

“That would be nice,” you say honestly. “It seems like they’ve both been running rampant... Speaking of, how is your workload?”

You grin up at him, a knowing look in your eyes. Lucifer sighs, smoothing a hand through his dark hair.

“My time to sleep is limited, but for once, it seems that I’m not fairing the worst among the three of us. I hope your visit with Barbatos and Diavolo will help them relax a little.”

“I don’t know if I have that type of power, but I hope so too,” you laugh, pausing when Lucifer places his hand atop your hair. He regards you fondly—the two of you standing in the middle of the city street.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” he says, and then steps away. “This is where I leave you. I believe you know the rest of the way, yes?”

You nod, and he raises a hand—bidding you farewell.

“Don’t stay too late. If you need an escort home, text the group chat and one of us will come get you.”

“Will do, Lucifer~,” you drawl, tempted to roll your eyes. They’re always so overprotective of you—it’s not like you always need an escort.

Lucifer flashes you the slightest of glares—lips tugging into a smirk—before he turns and disappears up a side street. Now on your own, you continue up the wide road—taking the familiar path to the castle. You arrive a few minutes later, and when you knock on the grand front door, it only takes a few seconds for Barbatos to pull it open.

“I’m glad you could make it,” he says, eyes creasing pleasantly as he smiles. You can see the exhaustion beginning to settle into the small lines of his face.

“Of course. I was looking forward to seeing you,” you respond honestly. As he guides you into the castle, you can hear the chatter of distant voices, and assume that Diavolo’s meeting with the committee must have already started.

“Would you mind accompanying me to the kitchen? I’m afraid I haven’t had the chance to prepare the tea yet.”

“No worries!” you say immediately, flashing him a reassuring smile. “I’ll help out if I can, too!”

Barbatos chuckles. “I’d appreciate that.”

Engulfed in a comfortable silence, the two of you make your way to the kitchen. Once there, Barbatos pulls out a kettle, and then moves to fetch the tea. However, when he pulls open the wooden cupboard, he pauses.

Curious, you step up behind him, peeking over his shoulder.

The cupboard is entirely empty.

Barbatos places his gloved palms on the counter, his head hanging in defeat, and an annoyed sigh leaving his lips. You stare at him, shocked to see the crack in his professional demeanor.

“The other servants must have grabbed the last of it to serve the guests at the meeting…”

“It’s okay, Barb!!” You say immediately, jumping back and throwing your arms into the air. “We don’t need tea!! It’s not Sunday anyway!”

The butler turns to look at you, and can’t help but laugh at your dorky position.

“I suppose you’re right,” he admits, raising a hand to cover his face as he releases a few more chuckles. Your cheeks heat up a little, realizing you must look silly, and you drop your arms.

“Besides, I don’t want you to feel obligated to serve me while I’m here! This is supposed to be a break for you, since you’ve been so busy!”

“But if we’re not having tea, then what shall we do?” he questions, tilting his head to the side innocently. You blink, lifting a hand to your chin as you ponder the thought.

“Well…is there anything I can do to help you relax?” you smile at him kindly as you speak. “You’ve been working hard, so if there’s anything I can do to ease some of the stress off your shoulders, I’d love to help.”

Barbatos regards you curiously at the offer—like there’s an idea that immediately comes to mind, but he’s not sure if he wants to say it. You assume that perhaps he’ll ask you to help with a chore, or will ask for something like a foot rub. Oh! Or maybe to play a board game.

Instead, he ends up flashing you a small smile. He extends his hand, holding it out to you, and you take it without a second thought. Fingers slotting through your own, he then tugs you from the kitchen and back into the hall—leading you somewhere else.

“There is a hobby I have that helps me to relieve stress. It’s a bit…unorthodox, so if you’re not comfortable with it, then—”

“I’m sure it’s fine, Barb!” you interrupt him, a pout on your lips. “I want to help you unwind, so whatever it is, I’m sure I can handle it.”

He gives your hand a squeeze, an amused look in his eyes. He doesn’t bother with a rebuttal—simply letting you think what you wish.

Silently, he guides you through the long halls. At some point, you pass the entrance to the magnificent bathroom you’d once discovered Diavolo bathing in. Your experience with the aphrodisiac, and Diavolo helping you out on that night feels like a fever dream. The thought of his stupidly large cock, and his hands on your body has you getting warm all over, and you shake your head to try and rid yourself of the sinful imagery.

The event had happened months ago, at this point. Since then, you and Diavolo have never spoken on it, and you wonder if he regrets his actions—feeling like perhaps he had overstepped his boundaries with a guest in the heat of the moment.

However, considering he acts friendly and kind to you as always—still offering hugs, and other simple shows of affections—you haven’t bothered confronting him about it. As long as the two of you are on good terms, that’s what matters to you. (Even if you have occasionally fantasized about fitting his cock inside you since then).

“Are you thinking of Lord Diavolo?” Barbatos’ voice drags you out of your thoughts, a knowing look in his eyes as he regards you. You blush, embarrassed at having been read so easily.

“I…I just…I wonder, sometimes, if he solely helped me out of a sense of obligation, or if he enjoyed it as much as I did,” you admit quietly. Barbatos gives your hand a comforting squeeze. “We’ve never talked about what happened, so…Agh, I’m sorry—is it weird that I’m talking about this with you? I don’t—”

“It’s not strange, Y/N,” he interrupts you with a shake of his head. “Lord Diavolo and I are quite close. Not to mention, I was there the night you were affected by the bath, remember?”

In that moment, you suddenly recall that yes—Barbatos had been there to see you in all of your needy glory—and you heat up more. If he notices, he chooses not to comment.

“While Lord Diavolo may have acted as he did to stop the effects of the aphrodisiac, I assure you he received just as much enjoyment out of your predicament as you did.”

Curious to the meaning of his words, you furrow your brow and stare at him. Barbatos just smiles—giving nothing away. Not until you start angrily pouting, at least. Then, he loosens his lips with a quiet sigh.

“I went to check on My Lord after I saw you return to your room, and when I approached his chambers, I could tell he was…preoccupied with the affliction you had given him.”

Meaning, he had overhead Diavolo jacking off to the thought of you after he’d left you alone in the bathing area to clean yourself up.

Ah.

“Okay, can we stop talking about this before I combust, and die?” you ask, a hint of a whine slipping into your tone. You tug your hand from Barb’s grip to cover your blushing face. He chuckles.

“For someone so lewd, you certainly do get embarrassed easily by your own actions.”

“I’m gonna request that you STOP calling me out like this, thanks,” you shoot back, glaring at him through spread fingers. He breathes a laugh, and you pause in your stride as he suddenly stops in front of a closed door.

Looking around, you realize that you’ve never been to this part of the castle before.

Twisting the handle to the door, Barbatos pushes it open and then ushers you inside. You regard the sizable room curiously.

It looks similar to any other lounge in the castle. The walls are lined with bookshelves and paintings. There are four couches—all placed in large square formation around where a coffee table would typically be. However, there is no coffee table.

Instead, about 8 feet from the ground, there’s a long, thick strip of bamboo. The bamboo is held up by tan colored rope—thick, professional knots secured to either end of the wood, and leading back up to hooks on the ceiling.

In fact, when you look closer. You can see that there are hooks mounted to the ceiling in multiple areas around the room. Not to mention the dozen spirals of rope hanging off hooks near the fireplace.

You swallow the saliva that has pooled in your mouth.

“You…use rope bondage to relieve stress?”

“Oh? You’re familiar with it?” he questions, stepping across the threshold of the room. He reaches up to grab one of the perfectly kept bundles of rope—trailing his fingers across the soft, red fibers.

You hold your arms shyly in front of you. This is a turn of events which you hadn’t been expecting tonight.

“I’ve always found it to be interesting, and beautiful, in a way,” you admit, purposely leaving out how you find it entirely too arousing as well. Just the thought of Barbatos tying you up has wetness already beginning to gather between your thighs. But, you don’t want to make it awkward—fearing that perhaps Barb doesn’t get any sexual gratification from the activity—so you stay silent about how much it turns you on.

“So, you wouldn’t be opposed to helping me relieve some of my stress, if this is what is involved?”

Your gaze shifts from the handsome butler, to the rope in his grasp, to the bamboo anchor in the center of the room. You wet your lips, and then smile at him.

“Of course. I’d be more than happy to.”

At your words, Barbatos steps forward—stalking over to where you’re standing just within the ring of couches. His mossy eyes regard you softly. You feel your heart hammering away within your ribs.

“Do you promise you’re saying that sincerely? I don’t want to hurt you, nor push you beyond what you’re comfortable with.”

“I know, Barb,” you tell him softly. You reach your hand out—fingertips skimming over slightly rough fibers of the rope. You’re sure you’ll feel a slight bite when he ties you up, but the thought only serves to heighten your arousal. “I wouldn’t agree if I didn’t want to help. And I trust you. Please don’t worry—this is what I want.”

A pleased look settling on his face, he leans down and presses the briefest of kisses to your forehead.

“I’m glad to hear so.”

Taking a step back, the butler regards you contemplatively.

“I would hate to ruin your dress. And it’s easier to tie with less clothing in the way. Would you mind removing it?”

Your face heats up at the request, but you nod—moving to slip the straps off your shoulders. After all, he’d massaged you all those weeks ago. It’s not like seeing your body is anything new to him.

“Just the dress?”

It’s an innocent question. You want to make his job as easy as possible.

“You—”

“Hey, isn’t this basically just more work for you?” you interrupt him as you shimmy your dress down your torso to the swell of your hips. He chuckles, gaze flitting down to look at your sheer-lace bra. The black color matches your underwear—although the panties aren’t lace, nor see through. (You hadn’t accidentally wanted to flash a demon (or at least, reveal too much) in town if the wind decided to flip your dress up on your journey over).

“It does take effort on my part, but I don’t consider it to be “work”,” he tells you. “And yes, just your dress is fine. Your undergarments won’t get in the way.”

“Okay,” you nod, voice soft. You finish stepping out of your dress—discarding it onto one of the nearby couches. Barb looks over your form appreciatively, and you seriously wish you could learn how to control your blushes.

“It’s important that you stretch, first. I don’t want you hurting your back again.”

“What? Not interested in giving me any more massages?” you tease, eyes sparkling at him. He breathes a laugh.

“I never said that.”

As you bend over—touching your toes, and stretching out your tight muscles, Barbatos moves across the room to grab more spools of rope. The entire time, his gaze lingers on you—taking note of your level of flexibility.

He’s pleasantly surprised by what he sees. The cogs in his brain start turning as he silently debates which position he should tie you in.

After a few minutes of stretching, it seems that Barbatos is finally satisfied to begin.

“This may take some time to tie. If you’re ever uncomfortable, or the rope feels too tight—please let me know.”

“I will, Barb.”

With that, the demon butler is quick to get to work. He instructs you to lift your arms, and you do so obediently—watching him as he wraps the rope around your torso, just beneath your bust. He stops every so often to check the firmness of his ties—making sure that he can slip a finger between the rope and your skin. He wants it to be loose enough that it won’t impede your blood flow, but tight enough that you’ll stay bound once he attempts to suspend you.

Before long, Barbatos has dressed you with a chess harness—your clothed tits pressing against the lacy fabric of your bra as the ties above, below, and between your breasts squeeze your mounds and push them outwards.

Satisfied with his work, he nods his head and takes a step away.

“Could you please sit on the floor, and spread your legs?”

His request reminds you of the growing pool of arousal in your nether region, but you comply nonetheless.

Sitting on the hardwood floor, you drop your arms to your sides and spread your legs. As you do so, the butler walks over to the fireplace. Just above the mantle is a hook—a strand of rope securely weaved around it. As Barbatos works on loosening the thick, hemp rope, you trace it’s path across the ceiling, and realize it’s the rope currently controlling the height of the bamboo anchor above you.

As the demon unfurls the rope from around the hook, the solid strip of bamboo moves closer to the ground. Soon, it’s only a few feet from the floor.

Satisfied with its new height—at least for the time being—Barbatos loosely wraps the rope back around the hook and then returns to your side. He kneels behind you, and you gasp when his fingers tug at the knot of rope between your shoulder blades.

“Too tight?” he questions, reaching to snag another bundle of red rope from the couch. You shake your head.

“Nope, just right.”

He hums considerately at your comment, sounding a little amused.

You remain silent as he drags more rope against your back—threading it through the bulk of your chest harness. Each pass of the soft fabric has goosebumps rising on your skin, and your gaze glances down between your still spread legs.

Hopefully since your panties are black, he won’t be able to see the wet spot that has formed…

You breathe shakily when Barbatos hefts the rope over the bamboo bar—giving it a tug. You feel the chest harness hug your tits ever tighter at the action, and you bite your lip to hold back from groaning. Honestly, if he touched your clit right now, you’re sure he could bring you to climax with little effort…

However, since you’re still attempting to be considerate of the fact that this is his stress relief, you don’t say anything. You remain carefully silent as he secures you to the anchor via the chest harness—an additional length of rope winding around your waist. He ties it to the bamboo as well—hoping to take some of the pressure off of your chest, seeing as he doesn’t want to bruise your ribs.

Once that’s taken care of, he moves in front of you. There are two more lengths of rope in his grasp.

For the first time in a while, Barbatos takes a moment to regard you. He’s been so caught up in his work, that aside from little inquiries as to your comfort, he hasn’t gotten a chance to really check in on you.

What he finds before him is a little startling.

Your cheeks are painted red—eyes blown wide, and lips slightly swollen from how much you’ve been biting them in order to try and control your reactions. As his gaze rakes down, glossing over your chest, he notes that your breathing is quick--your nipples taut against the thin cups of your bra. A tell-tale sign of your arousal.

A handsome grin tugs at his lips.

Reaching down, he squeezes the meat of your inner thigh with one hand, stretching your leg open wider. He lifts his other hand to his mouth—effortlessly tugging the white glove off with his teeth—before he’s dragging two of his digits gently up the crotch of your panties.

“My, I guess I shouldn’t have worried about being selfish with my request,” he chuckles. You pout at him angrily, eyes glancing away.

“Don’t tease me…I was trying to be polite…”

The pout on your lips fades away the moment his naked palm cups your cheek. Gently, he guides you to look at him—his face just inches from yours.

“I apologize for teasing,” he says. “I’m pleased to know you’re enjoying yourself beyond what I expected.”

To emphasize his words, he leans in and presses a tender kiss to your lips. Immediately you’re moaning, hands reaching forward to fist in his shirt—keeping him close to you. Your mouths slot together—slow, languid kisses being exchanged between you.

“Would you like to continue?” he eventually mumbles, and when your eyelashes flutter open, you find him staring at you—a heat in his gaze that hadn’t been present before.

“Yes, please.”

Sitting back, Barbatos tugs off his other glove and immediately resumes his work.

He starts at your ankles—wrapping the rope around you a few times, before tossing it over the bamboo--this time on the outside of the sturdy hemp, which is keeping the light-weight wood anchored to the ceiling. He repeats the action on your other leg, mirroring his previous actions, and then moves to make a tie just above your knee with a new spool.

This time, there’s an additional command.

“Lift your arms up.”

You do so, watching him with bated breath as he once again threads the rope across the slab of wood above you. This time, however, he pulls the rope tight—hiking your leg as high as it will go in combination with the ankle ties keeping your legs spread wide.

Once the rope is taut, he ties it around your wrists—letting you keep your arms bent. Your hand instinctively moves to hold onto the rope once the knot is finished, and you give it an experimental tug downward. The additional tension causes your legs to part even more—revealing all you have to offer.

“Are you, ah, fond of having girls spread wide like this for you?” you ask, a little breathless as you watch him grab one final coil of the rope. This time he moves to secure it around your upper thighs, right near your pelvis. He threads it beneath the rope around your waist—tugging it tight, and truly making sure your legs are spread as much as possible. You actually start to feel a dull strain as he makes the final tie—mirroring it on your other leg, per usual.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he responds, smiling as he pulls on the rope in a few places—making small adjustments to the tension in certain ties in order to ensure that your weight will be evenly distributed. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to do this, and I can confidently say that you’re making it far more entertaining than I expected.”

“Well, you’re welcome for that.”

Chuckling, he presses to his feet and moves past you. The butler makes his way to the fireplace, once more taking hold of the rope tied above it.

“I’m going to suspend you now,” he informs you, and your pussy clenches at his words. “If you feel pain, tell me and we will stop immediately.”

“Okay,” you breathe, licking your lips. In the next moment, you feel the rope around you dig into your skin ever so slightly—your ass inching off of the ground as Barbatos effortlessly moves the bamboo anchor higher into the air.

Within seconds—you're fully suspended, your body about 3 feet from the floor. The rope bites at your flesh, but not painfully. Just enough to remind you that you’re tied up, in the air, and at Barbatos’ mercy.

Since you don’t express any discontent, Barbatos re-secures the rope around the hook, and then makes his way to the center of the room. He takes his time walking around you—surveying his work. His fingers trail across your sensitive skin, making you gasp. Your legs jump against the bindings in reaction to his touches, but your limbs barely move--his skillful ties keeping you obediently held in the position he has chosen for you.

“Barb…,” you whine, not knowing how much more of this you can take. You’ve been horny since the moment you’d stepped foot into the room, and you’re sure at least an hour has passed since he began tying you—if not more. Your panties are practically soaked. You need some type of relief, and soon, or you honestly think you’ll explode.

Barbatos steps in front of you, two fingers hooking beneath your chin and angling your head up to look at him. He smiles.

“Is there a problem?”

There’s a mirthful glint in his eye. It’s clear he’s feeling more playful now that he’s in his element.

“I…please touch me.”

“I thought earlier you expressed worry in me doing “extra work”? It certainly sounds like you’re asking me to exert myself with that request.”

“Barb, please,” you whine, struggling against the rope as you attempt to lean up and kiss him. There’s no way he can deny you after all of this—not when you’re in such a state. “Please. I need you.”

Your begging sounds like music to his ears, and he gives in a little—leaning down to kiss you. You melt into the sensation.

“How would you like me to touch you, Y/N?”

“I…I want your cock, this time,” you say honestly, mumbling the words embarrassedly against him. You feel bad asking. After your previous escapade, you’d gotten the feeling that Barbatos was more comfortable in pleasing others, rather than focusing on himself. After all, despite having gotten hard, he had never asked to have sex with you. He’d been content with getting you off on his fingers, and likely would have let himself remain hard without solace if you hadn’t offered to help him in return.

Barbatos pauses at your request.

“It’s okay, if you’re not comfortable,” you quickly say, understanding painted in your eyes as you regard him. “I just…have been thinking about the possibility of having you inside of me, since last time, so—”

“If I am what you want, then I shall give you what you ask,” he interrupts, leaning in to steal another tender kiss. A quiet moan escapes you.

“Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t be offering otherwise.”

He cups your cheeks, peppering you with kisses, and then steps back. You watch him with rapt attention as he fiddles with his belt—working to free his cock from it’s confines. You hadn’t noticed before, but he’s already hard—straining against the zipper of his slacks.

Luckily, he’s skilled with his hands. It only takes a few seconds until his length is free—his slacks and the boxer briefs beneath them resting just below his pelvis.

“We should have taken these off, if you desired this outcome,” he comments, finger looping beneath the crotch of your panties. You pout at him, but don’t bother retorting. Right now, the only thing on your mind is Barbatos putting his cock inside of you and fucking you until you cum.

Noting your hungry stare, Barbatos doesn’t bother asking permission before he moves your panties to the side, revealing your slick womanhood. Grasping his length, he guides the tip of his cock between your folds—wetting himself with your arousal. When he catches your clit, you openly moan—body flexing against the ropes holding you in place.

Barbatos can’t help but smile.

“Always so needy.”

You open your mouth to respond, but all that comes out is a heated groan—the demon butler sheathing himself into your heat without warning. Your sopping walls allow him to glide in easily, and the sudden stretch has your eyes rolling back.

“Fuck, Barb,” you breathe his name, fixing him with the most pitiful face you can manage. You need him to move—now.

He’s more than happy to comply.

Barbatos rocks his hips back and forth gently, fucking in and out of you with care as he assures that you’re okay for him to move despite the abrupt intrusion. He feels your walls clench around him—seeking more—and he takes a deep breath at the sensation. You feel so good.

Gripping your waist, he thrusts into you with fervor. His speed increases, a blush dusting his cheeks as his gaze shifts between your blissful face, and your greedy pussy. In all his years, he’s never seen someone take his cock so beautifully.

Quick pants slipping past your lips, you instinctively tug at the rope wrapped around your wrists—accidentally spreading your legs wider as he fucks you. You can feel the strain on your thigh muscles, but right now, it’s the least of your worries. You’re too preoccupied with the way Barbatos’ cock is dragging inside of you—hitting you in all the right places.

“Please touch my clit,” you gasp, sensing your impending orgasm. You feel bad, being so close already, but you can’t help it. Barbatos’ cock throbs as he realizes how quickly you’re coming unraveled thanks to him. At this rate, he won’t last very long either.

Always happy to serve, the butler removes one hand from your waist and presses his thumb into your clit. The swift, side to side motion against the sensitive bundle of nerves has you choking on a moan—your head lolling backwards.

“Oh fuck,” you bite, the muscles in your torso tensing. Barbatos can feel your pussy tightening around him, and he clenches his jaw. Keeping his rhythm, it’s only another minute until you’re crying out his name—body spasming against the bindings as you reach the apex of your pleasure. Your pussy milks around his cock, constricting so tightly that a curse actually falls from the demon’s lips.

With a strained groan, he pulls himself from inside of you—his seed spurting against your used pussy, with a few stray droplets painting your thighs.

You’re just about to whine at the sudden loss of him when the door to the room creaks open. Immediately, you’re ejected from the bliss of your orgasm—heart hammering against your ribs and eyes flying open as you turn to see who has discovered you and Barbatos in such a compromising state.

“I actually managed to get the committee to end the meeting early, and went in search of the two of you,” the Demon Prince himself speaks, stepping inside. “When I discovered our typical spot empty, and then noticed the lack of tea in the kitchen cupboards, I thought I’d better check here. Seems I was right to.”

Diavolo chuckles as the door clicks closed behind him. He reaches up to loosen his tie, his infamous red coat nowhere to be found.

“My Lord,” Barbatos speaks, bowing. You glance down and notice that the butler has already tucked himself back into his pants—looking perfect as usual. The only hint of his recently experienced bliss is a few stray hairs sticking to his forehead, and a dust of blush on his cheeks.

Oh, and the cum that’s leaking down your skin.

The Demon Prince smiles pleasantly at his butler before his heavy golden gaze shifts to you. Instantly, you’re feeling warm all over—embarrassed beyond belief to be seen by Diavolo in such a lewd state.

Your little fling in the bath with him is one thing, but being hoisted mid-air, legs spread wide, with nowhere to hide yourself is another.

“Diav—”

“Impeccable work, as always, Barbatos,” Diavolo interrupts you. He steps into the center of the room, reaching forward to grip the strands of rope parting your breasts. He gives the harness an appreciative tug, eliciting a gasp from you. His eyes sparkle at the sound.

“Thank you, my Lord.”

“I see you were a little zealous today,” he continues, eyes falling to your used pussy. Your breath catches—gaze widening in surprise as Diavolo drags his finger through a stripe of Barbatos’ cum. Behind the Prince, the butler dips his head.

“Y/N requested it of me. I would be a fool to have said no.”

“Indeed,” Diavolo chuckles, his attention never leaving you. His large hands roam across your legs—skimming over the rope where it digs into the soft flesh of your thighs. There’s an appreciative glint in his gaze as he surveys your body—beautiful and helpless thanks to Barbatos’ rope work.

“You know, Y/N,” he begins after a minute, his fingertips trailing up the length of your arms, and making you shiver. He leans down to your eye level, smiling at you handsomely. “I was a little worried, following the incident with the aphrodisiac, that perhaps I had overstepped my boundaries. However, following recent events, I’m wondering if it’s not that a line was crossed, but perhaps that it’s me you’re not interested in.”

You shift your gaze to Barbatos, wondering if he had told Diavolo the outcome of the massage he’d given you a few weeks prior, but his face reveals nothing. He’s back to being the perfect butler in the presence of his Lord.

“Lord Diavolo, t-that’s—,” you swallow the lump in your throat, arousal flaring in your gut when Diavolo presses a finger beneath your chin, turning your attention back to him. “That’s not it at all. I promise.”

He cocks a curious eyebrow, waiting for you to explain. You take a shaky breath, muscles flexing beneath the bindings as your post-orgasm high begins to fade, making the bite of the rope more obvious.

“I…have wanted you—to have you, ever since that night. I just…didn’t have the guts to inquire about the possibility…I was hoping maybe you would approach me instead, and when it didn’t happen, I assumed the window of opportunity had closed.”

“Oh, Y/N,” he moves his hands to cup your cheeks, gently skimming his thumb across the warm flesh. “You are more than welcome to ask anything of me.”

“I want you, then. Now,” you breath, a fresh wave of arousal pooling in your belly as you stare at him. Your words have his golden eyes darkening with hunger.

The months worth of unspoken desire fills the space between your bodies--igniting a flame in Diavolo’s blood.

“Say it again,” he commands. You strain against the bindings, wishing you could touch him.

“I want you, Lord Diavolo. Please fuck me.”

In the next beat, Diavolo is on your lips. He licks into your mouth, swallowing all of your needy little whines and moans. One of his hands moves to tangle in your hair—trapping your lips against his own—while the other finds purchase on your breast.

He slips a finger beneath the lace cup, and tugs it down without hesitation—freeing the previously covered mound. You gasp around his tongue, thighs flexing. You can feel arousal beginning to dribble down your cunt, pussy once again aching to be used and filled.

“Barbatos,” Diavolo rumbles, finally pulling back to give you air. The butler appears at the edge of your vision as you struggle to breathe. He places a hand over his heart.

“Adjust the height of the suspension, and then come here. It’s not fair of me to make you watch. Come and join.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

Barbatos disappears from your field of vision, and a few moments later, you squirm as you feel yourself being hoisted higher into the air. The sensation stops when your pussy is at the same height as Diavolo’s growing bulge.

“I can’t be mad at the two of you for enjoying yourselves without me, when it acts as such good preparation,” Diavolo chuckles, two of his fingers slipping between your glistening folds. They push into your heat with little resistance, so the Prince adds a third. You feel a stretch, but it’s far from painful—a quiet moan sneaking past your lips.

He watches you with arousal swimming in his golden irises.

Leaning in to lap against the unmarred skin of your neck, Diavolo pumps his fingers in and out of you. Wet sounds fill the room along with your breathy whines, and the minute Barbatos steps up behind you—moving his hands to fondle your breasts—you let go of any remaining decency.

You throw your head back, body shaking as the two pleasure you. Groans fall from your lips, hips bucking against Diavolo’s hand. You crave him, desperate to feel your pussy stretched around his monstrous cock.

“Please,” you beg, barely able to get the word out. Diavolo shushes you with a hot breath against your neck—canines nipping at your flesh.

“Be patient,” he tells you. “One more.”

He momentarily removes his fingers from inside you before pushing back in—a fourth joining the others this time. The sensation steals your breath away—body thrashing against the bindings. You’re so stupidly horny that you don’t even care if it hurts. You need Diavolo inside of you.

“You must trust Lord Diavolo, Y/N,” Barbatos pipes up. You can feel his breath on your ear—his mouth moving to rest on the side of your neck that Diavolo isn’t currently assaulting with his lips, teeth and tongue. To accentuate his words, he rolls your hardened nipples between his fingers. Your pussy clenches around the Demon Prince’s digits.

“He’s only doing this so not to hurt you.”

“I know, but—,” Diavolo cuts off your whining with a rough bite against the junction of your shoulder. You gasp at the pain, writhing, and once more he’s rewarded with your pussy gripping his fingers so deliciously. The Demon Prince’s cock throbs at the sensation, craving to be inside of you, but he knows he can’t take you as easily as others might. The last thing he wants is to break you.

…as fun as that idea may be.

“You’re doing so well,” he praises you, tongue lapping over the indentation of his teeth. A bit of blood pools in the shallow divots—the tangy red liquid making him groan deep within his chest. He pumps his fingers in and out of you for what feels like ages, continuing until there’s no resistance.

Then, finally, his digits leave you with an embarrassing squelch. You mourn the loss with a needy whine, eyes peeling open to stare at him. However, when you see Diavolo messing with his slacks—his cock springing free and standing tall against his abdomen just as you had remembered it—your protest ceases.

Instead, you’re left swallowing the saliva that pools in your mouth—cunt throbbing as Diavolo presses himself back between your legs. Barbatos is by no means small with regard to dick size, but Diavolo makes taking the butler seem like child’s play.

“Remember to breathe,” The Prince tells you, tracing his length between your folds. The head of his cock pushes against your entrance, and despite his warning, you feel your breath catch. Even four fingers are barely enough to prepare you to take him.

“Breathe,” Barbatos whispers against your neck, his hands moving to settle just beneath your breasts. He gives you a reassuring squeeze, and you finally suck in a shaky breath of air. Diavolo allows you a moment to ground yourself before he moves once more—managing to fully slide the head of his dick in, along with a few inches of shaft.

You see stars.

“Fuck!” your entire body shakes, pain and arousal mingling in a dangerous combination. Your chest heaves, knuckles turning white with how tightly you’re gripping the rope binding your wrists. And yet, you can’t take your eyes off the sight of Diavolo’s cock, and the way it disappears inside of you. You don’t dare look away.

Hands gripping your waist, Diavolo takes a deep breath in through his nose, and then cants his hips forward. The rest of his length stuffs inside of you—stomach bulging ever so slightly from his girth—and your mind goes white.

Hot tears stream down your cheeks.

For a frightening second, Diavolo worries that he has injured you.

“Y/N—”

“Please please please please move!” you cry, chest heaving. You struggle against the bindings, breaking off into a desperate sob. The Demon Prince and his butler share a surprised look. Then, Diavolo is grinning, ever so slowly rocking his hips into you. Each movement assaults you with a new wave of pleasure.

“You didn’t tell me that she gets like this,” Diavolo remarks, glancing to his long-time friend. Barbatos shakes his head, his hands once more settling on your breasts. When the butler flicks his thumbs against your nipples, a muscle clenches in Diavolo’s jaw—your pussy constricting around him.

“I had no idea it was possible,” Barbatos responds, but you don’t hear their conversation. You can’t tear your gaze from the spot where Diavolo’s cock vanishes between your walls. You’ve never been so full before—so stretched--right at your breaking point.

It feels so good.

“Y/N,” Diavolo speaks your name tenderly, drawing you from your state of desperation. Your blown-out eyes turn up to him. He cups your cheek, brushing over the damp tear tracks on your skin. “What are your safe words?”

“S…Stoplight colors,” you tell him, and he nods. Leaning in, he presses a sweet kiss to your forehead.

“Use them if you need to.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

Feeling better about your safety, Diavolo once more grips your waist, and begins fucking into your pussy with quick, smooth strokes. Each drag of his cock inside of you has you moaning—arousal rapidly building in the pit of your stomach. A part of you hopes that you’ll last long enough to cum with the Demon Prince, but when Barbatos settles his mouth against your neck—sucking at a particularly sensitive patch of flesh—you reach your climax without warning.

A cry tears from your throat. Your body spasms, pussy milking around Diavolo’s cock and hugging him so firmly that he actually snarls at the sensation. However, he doesn’t bother reprimanding you for the unprompted orgasm. No, instead he waits just long enough to allow the height of your pleasure to subside, before he begins snapping his hips into you with abandon.

Your lips part in a silent scream, Diavolo fucking you hard enough to make your tits bounce despite the upright position. As you struggle to maintain any sense of coherency, Barbatos hugs you tightly from behind, whispering quiet praises against your skin. It’s truly the only thing keeping you ground, at the moment.

“I can feel you getting tight again,” Diavolo remarks, the slightest growl in his voice, even as he chuckles. “Are you going to cum with me, Y/N?”

You shake your head violently. “I-I can’t. I can’t.”

You’re convinced that another orgasm will kill you.

Diavolo glances past your shoulder, to Barbatos. The butler nods his head. Without speaking a word, Barbatos knows his Lord’s request.

Pressing an apologetic kiss to your shoulder, Barbatos lowers one of his hands between your spread legs. Two of his fingers find your clit, and you choke down a sob. You desperately attempt to convince the royals that you’re unable to cum a third time, but the way your walls continue to contract around Diavolo’s cock says otherwise.

“Cum with me, and then you can rest,” Diavolo speaks, leaning in to capture your lips. He can taste your salty tears through the kiss.

“P-please,” you struggle to breathe, blurry eyes settling on the Demon Prince as he sits back—snapping his cock inside of you particularly hard. “Please.”

“Please what?” Diavolo asks, golden eyes soaking in the sight of you absolutely falling apart for him.

“Please…,” you repeat, voice trailing off. You’ve been so adamant about your inability to orgasm again, but now—with Diavolo thrusting into you, and Barbatos’ fingers working at your clit—you’re once again on the edge of release. You sob, the sound broken.

“Please let me cum.”

Diavolo grins handsomely.

“Cum for me, Y/N.”

And you’re helpless to obey, your body spasming as your third and final orgasm of the night tears through you. Your chest heaves—struggling to take in air as Diavolo fucks you through your pleasure—chasing his own bliss.

Thankfully, he comes only a few seconds behind you—seating his length fully inside of you, and stuffing you to the brim as he spills his seed between your sopping walls. The sound of ragged breathing fills the room.

You fade out of consciousness for a moment.

“You did so well, taking Lord Diavolo,” Barbatos whispers into your hair, bringing you back into reality. He presses a soft kiss to your head. You whimper at his words, exhausted, and craving more praise and comfort.

Knowing that you need to be released from the suspension, Diavolo finally pulls his softening cock from inside of you. Immediately, his cum is slipping from your used heat—dripping down your pussy, and even onto the floor at your feet.

“Barbatos,” Diavolo speaks, taking a step back. The butler nods, swiftly moving to unravel the spool of rope secured above the mantle. Soon, you find yourself on the floor, both Diavolo and Barbatos working to undo the many intricate knots and ties.

It takes a few minutes—you whining and begging for affection the entire time—but finally the two free you from your bindings. As you move your limbs around, you can feel blood rushing back into certain areas of your body.

You’re definitely going to be sore tomorrow. For many reasons.

“You did beautifully,” Diavolo whispers as he scoops you into his arms. He moves to settle on the couch, cradling you in his lap. He brushes a few stray hands of hair out of your face, smiling when you reach up and cup his cheeks—tugging him into a kiss.

“I’m seeing many new sides of you today,” he remarks with a chuckle. You lean back, tiredly pouting at him.

“Well, this is the first time I’ve been fully tied up, suspended, and fucked by both a Demon Prince, and his butler, so.”

“That would explain it.”

He grins wider, a fond look in his eyes as he dips down to press a kiss to your forehead. As he does so Barbatos kneels at your side. There’s a pleasant smile on his face, his now-gloved hands gingerly trailing against your legs—dipping into the shallow marks left by the rope.

“How are you feeling?” he questions. His voice is tender, full of concern.

“I’m okay,” you say. “Sore, and tired, but…I feel good.” You extend your arm—fingertips trailing against his jaw. Barbatos leans into the feeling, cupping your hand with his own. “Thank you both for taking such good care of me. Even though you may have exerted yourselves more, rather than relaxing tonight, like I was hoping you would do…”

“I can’t speak for Barbatos, but personally, I feel much better now,” Diavolo pipes up. The butler nods in agreement, turning his head to press a kiss to your palm.

“Yes, I agree. I feel quite relaxed.”

You roll your eyes at them, breathing a laugh.

“If you say so.”

The royals share a laugh as well.

“You need to rehydrate. Shall I fetch us some beverages?”

“If you wouldn’t mind, Barbatos. It’s unfortunate we’re out of tea.”

The butler presses to his feet, bowing minutely. “It is. I will be sure to restock the pantry soon.”

He turns, heading towards the door, but your voice stops him.

“Wait--,” you speak, noting a clock on the wall nearby. It’s already past 11. “—It’s getting late. I don’t want to take more of your time. I know you still have a busy schedule tomorrow.”

“I would think that Lucifer and his brothers will be concerned, should you return home in your current state,” Barbatos comments, and you pause, glancing down at yourself. You’re covered in rope markings all over your body, not to mention the hickies and bite marks now littering your neck. On top of that, you’re still not even sure if you can properly move on your own, let alone walk.

“I…”

“I was going to ask you to stay with us,” Diavolo pipes up, smiling at you. “If you don’t mind sharing the bed, I’d prefer to have you close tonight.”

Your cheeks heat up at his words, but you can’t deny how appealing it sounds—spending the night in Diavolo’s arms. Especially considering how he’d just ruined you.

“Okay,” you concede.

“Good!”

You gasp as Diavolo presses to his feet, still securely holding you in his arms. “In that case, please bring the beverages to my chambers, Barbatos.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

The butler then disappears from the room. Diavolo follows him out, but not before tossing a handily available blanket atop your naked form. Your grip at the soft fabric, pouting as you watch your cute dress get left behind on the messy, rope covered floor.

“My dress…”

“Barbatos will likely return and clean up before the night ends. I’m sure it will be returned to you by morning,” Diavolo reassures you. You curl your hand into the dark fabric of his shirt, glancing up at him.

“That’s still more work for him…”

“You need to stop worrying about us,” he scolds you, giving you a light squeeze. You knock your forehead against his chest.

“It’s hard. I want you both to stop being so busy.”

“Soon,” he reassures you with a chuckle, and you feel his lips press into the crown of your hair. “Then we’ll go back to having Sunday tea.”

Perfect.

That night, you pass out tucked against Diavolo’s broad chest, before Barbatos ever appears with the drinks. At some point, a wet cloth drags between your legs, and a straw is placed between your lips, but you’re too exhausted to remember anything more than that. All you know is that when you wake up the next morning, Diavolo is gone, your bladder is full, and there’s a note on the nightstand addressed to you.

It’s Barbatos’ handwriting.

Y/N,

Lord Diavolo would like to apologize for being unable to keep you company this morning. We promise to make it up to you at a later time.

Your dress, along with vitamins, and other health supplements that will help you should you be ailing from the excitement of last night, are at the foot of the bed.

Blinking, you look down and realize that indeed your dress is folded neatly at your feet--a small gift bag beside it. But there’s no way you’ll need such medicine, right?

Slowly, you press to your feet, and immediately groan. Yep, everything is sore. You’ve never felt so achy all over.

Lucifer is here for a meeting. He will walk you home at 9am, once it is finished. Please meet him at the front doors.

If there’s anything else you need, please let myself, or Lord Diavolo know.

- Barbatos

You note that your DDD has been conveniently placed on the nightstand beside the note.

Clicking the phone screen to life—you pause.

It’s already 8:50.

“Shit!”

You rush to prepare yourself—dressing haphazardly, and running through the halls of the castle in order to meet Lucifer on time. You arrive at the front doors to find him waiting for you. He cocks an eyebrow, gaze falling to your current outfit. You’re adorning the dress you’d worn the day before, but beneath it, you’re also wearing a white turtleneck.

How curious.

“…did you enjoy your stay?”

There’s an amused look on his face—one that tells you he won’t be fooled by whatever excuse you decide to try and come up with. So, you settle for giving him an honest response.

“I did.”

And you can’t wait until your next one.

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cutegirlmayra · 3 years

Note

Modern Sonamy in a life and death this may be the end scenario where Sonic is finally forced to confront his feelings for Amy that he knows have been there for years. He plans to spend their final moments telling her his love but they are saved at the last minute. Afterwards he tries to go back to the usual but realizes he doesn't want to have any regrets and not have Amy know the truth. So he tries to figure out how to to tell her but the message isn't coming across until he gives her a kiss!

Watch Pajama Blogs - Prompt Requests - Ep.1 timestamp: 47:51 to hear my thoughts on this prompt back when I was first thinking about it! (Sometimes my thoughts change, so don’t be too disappointed if my processes changes a bit over time!)

PROMPTS ARE ON SHUTDOWN, so do not submit them until you see the post about the ‘grand reopening’ announcement or see that the ‘ask box’ tells you they are open. THEY ARE NOT OPEN AT THIS TIME.

(Art found here: x Please support the original artist!)

Prompt:

The gravel scooted and crumbled away from her hand as Sonic and Amy slammed against the side of the rocky wall, trying to dodge the intense heat of the magma from within Egg-Canyon-Mountain where they were attempting to sneak in and take the Chaos Emeralds back from powering a large and terrible machine.

The Machine right now didn’t matter though, because just before they were to remove them, Tails radioed that the machine was self-destructing, and it was all a trap.

Eggman had fled knowing the Chaos Emeralds would just pulse away from each other and become shooting stars in the daylight sky, and he’d have to find them all over again once the reactor malfunctioned sufficiently enough to flood the canyons with magma.

“Sonic, it’s only rising!” Amy was momentarily kidnapped when trying to reach the machine’s first Chaos Emerald slot, where Eggman used her to force Sonic to battle him and his new incredible robot, but it was all to buy time for his fatal trap.

Laughing as he exited, he dropped Amy and made a snide comment about ‘Dying with the one you love’ being a last mercy he’ll give... to Amy that is.

Even while dangling in the clutches of Eggman’s hovering robot’s metal talons, Amy couldn’t have judged well enough the machine’s overheating and powering up processes. It was truly unexpected, but completely within Eggman’s bounds...

Squished between the rocky layer of steep, vertical terra and a sweating Sonic, Amy was sandwiched between the thought of how they were gonna survive this.

“It’s not as fast as you, though!” She looked back over to him, seeing his eyes were fixated on the molten rock slowly rising to them on the thin strip of raised pathway they had against the side of the canyon, finally having made it out of the caverns...

This didn’t look good... Sonic was hot and panting to keep his body temperature regulated. With some degree of knowledge in health and medicine from treating his wounds and injuries all these years, she could tell he was too hot to run at full speed like usual without the proper coolness to not overheat himself. Not just that... but she was added weight... he’d never be able to scale the mountain’s straight drop at top-speeds if he had to carry her too...

She was nowhere near fat but still... this wasn’t looking too good for her.

Without missing a beat, she finally closed her eyes and pushed her nose to the wall, breathing in a dusty and dirt-filled breath of self-sacrifice and spoke aloud an unforgivable sentence. “If I hadn’t insisted on coming with you... to spend more time with you... in hopes that you would fall more in love with me if I was just as into adventure as you were... then you’d be able to run up this wall and get to the top safely.”

He turned his sights back to her, a frown apparent as she was speaking negatively, and he hated that. “Since when were you doubting?” he was always trying to play it cool, and as she took a sorrowful peek back to him, she couldn’t help but gently smile in her grief at seeing his cheery and confident smile.

“We’ll get out of this.” he assured her, “I need you to hang on, though. No more talk about what should and shouldn’t have happened. Can you get up on my back from here?” He looked back at the rising lava, apparently having a plan now.

She nodded, deciding it best not to bring up the inevitable, since her Sonic could do miracles!

... At least, this time, she couldn’t let him fall to his untimely death because of her persistence...

She spun and he caught her to help her keep balance on the strip and then she tied her arms tightly around his neck as he began to slowly climb.

However, looking down at the speedily approaching magma filling the veins of the large expanse of rock with blood-colored fury and heat, and then looking up to see not a speck of the other side or even the sky as it was just a long, never-ending stretch to half the sky... she felt her heart sinking again.

He really could go faster without her, and looking down again, she saw the strip they were moments ago being pushed up against was now being reached and submerged in the melting rock...

Liquid fire... Was this the story of when Sonic had to face Metal that first time? She remembered him telling the story of reaching for Metal him’s hand before he whacked it aside, refusing to be saved by the one and true hero: Sonic.

There was only ever going to be one Sonic The Hedgehog... but there could be others that would love him just as much... though her grip tightened at admitting it, and ducking her head down, unable to produce tears in the steam of the ripples of heat rising up the cavern.

If they didn’t die of one slip-up or not moving fast enough, they would surely succumb to heat-exhaustion or heat-stroke.

Sonic felt the slight tug on his chin as though her grip around his neck had tightened in a desperate attempt to hold on, and although already straining to climb with someone else and his body feeling like a sauna plus a volcano at his feet, he really didn’t want to believe Amy was giving up on him.

“Amy..!” he called, having an instinct of what she was thinking, “Don’t do it!”

Amy’s head jerked up, “S...Sonic...” She was amazed he had caught on so quickly to her thoughts... her emotions... “B-but,... I-!” she wanted to convince him to let her do it, to let her allow him to run up the rocky wall and save himself.

“We’re getting out of this together or not at all!” he finally blurted out, taking Amy aback as he twitched to reach another hand out for another piece of rock that could be firm enough to give him a sturdy hand-grip. “Erk... ugh... ha... ha... Do me a favor, Amy... ha... umph!” he reached back and threw her up, shocking her as she cried out his name. “And quit acting like we’re dead already!”

She hit against a leveled path that slightly crumbled under her weight, making her kick her legs to scoot quickly back against the wall as Sonic was then able to Spin-Dash to a higher level, reaching down a hand for her. “Hurry!” he called, as she looked back to gasp at the lava not taking any ‘rest-stops’ so to speak. “There might be a cave that tunnels up from here!”

That was a sensationally good idea, except for one problem... if they went back into a tunnel and it went downwards.... then the magma would pinch them in on both sides... and their wouldn’t even be left unmelted fossil remains of them...

But right now, up was good.

She spun around and got up, reaching for his hand and having him struggle to hoist her up as she got her foot on the wall just before the magma rose and splashed against where she was just sitting. “Ah!”

“Amy!!!”

“I-I’m fine.” she squinted an eye as she was grateful the splash didn’t burn her. Her feet were fine, she hadn’t been exposed to it.

He pulled her up and the two just breathed heavily in the others arms a moment.

“You... can out run it... Sonic.” Amy spoke again, only hearing a grunt of annoyance from Sonic as she did so.

“Quit... fooling around... Amy.” his hold on her had loosened so much... she knew he was growing tired. First having snuck in and destroyed some robot scouts on the way down, then Eggman’s battle, and then rushing out before the magma overwhelmed them... Then climbing up such a perilous wall with her on his back... “Do you... see any tunnels..?”

She didn’t even look, she just pulled his forehead to her own, holding it there with her own, sweat-soaked white gloves on either side of his cheeks... saying her farewells in secret. “I know I’ve never voiced it before... but... I...”

Sonic blinked his eyes, before grabbing her arms, their gloves sticking to their skins and making a light blue, see-through effect through the shiny oils on both their exposed skin. Their furs were wetted and they’d be too slippery to attempt to climb again.

This was it.

Sonic lightly moved her to the wall, showing in his face his unbelief at her distrust all of a sudden that he could save them both, but beyond the hurt expression... there was a look she hadn’t fully seen before.

He pinned her slightly as he willingly put his forehead to hers and shut his eyes, trying to keep his breathing normal. “I know.” he stated, then with a shaky voice... “And you’ve always known too.”

She was frozen in that heat-soaked moment... Sonic finally dropping his own tall walls for a brief moment as they could hear the slushing of the magma rising to where they were.

They both looked back, Amy over his shoulder and Sonic to look at the impending doom before them.

“You had to know.” He chuckled out loosely, exhausted now emotionally too, “I gotta at least leave you with some comforting closure.”

“Of that?” Amy thought that the sweetest thing, but also grossly inappropriate for the timing. “Why did you wait till now to tell me?”

“Validate you. I never said anything.” He smirked, even now, trying to keep things light.

She wanted to kiss him, but felt that that would be an even greater sentence, and she’d be framed as the worst timing for romantic advances in history.

Even worse than his...

Sonic smiled to her before something glittery flicked light into his eye and caused him to squint it a few times repeatedly. Turning to find out what the strange source was, the two’s mouths opened at the entrance of a metal bunker impeded into the wall... not seen without the glow of the rising magma.

“An elevator!” The two exclaimed, seeing a mining device next to it. Sonic quickly scooped her up and pushed her in, “Going up!” he pressed the button but she didn’t want to part with him, the Elevator could be slow or worse, the mechanism below could be melted away by now.

“Sonic!” she cried out, agreeing--somewhat--with Eggman that she’d rather die in the arms of her beloved than alone in a small elevator meant for hauling metals up to the top of the canyon. And who knew where this actual thing landed! Maybe it wasn’t the top?

Sonic gave her a thumbs up and signature wink as she could see the lava splashing against the sides of where he was, “Noo!!!” as the chute shut tight and started cranking her upwards. She flung her back to the opposite side of where the tin had shut and felt the heat and the moment consuming her. ‘Sonic... do you mean that..? Do you really... love me?’

Sonic was tearing up the ground in his wake as dust spiraled behind him and he almost flew up at supersonic speeds through the canyon. All the while, he narrowed his eyes to the straight path the elevator was meant to take, making sure it reached the top. ‘Faster... Faster... Faster...!!!’ his eyes widened as his teeth clenched, seeing the lava building up and never stopping, not even for a moment, in consuming the rock beneath it and yet, his eyes trained to fixate on the metal pole that meant the chain was still hauling Amy up. “Endure it just a little longer,... Amy...” his eyebrow furrowed before bowing as he tripped by not watching where his feet were going. “W-woah!” he noticed he had reached the top and was falling now, having pressed his foot to air which had started the tumble. He gripped frantically to the edge of the large landscape and was able to get enough wind in his heels and strength left in his fingers to stop his falling... he had made it... he’ll be okay.

But that wasn’t enough.

He heard the metal bending and cranking, as though slowing the rising, treasured container of it’s load from coming up. The metal was beginning to tilt and loosened itself from it’s bolted railing and started to dip like a bending fish hook towards the flaming sea...

“No!!” Sonic leaped up and raced to the pole, “Amy!!!” He reached out and bent to grab the wall and the bending metal, using himself like a stretched chord to keep the metal from bending further, suspended between rock and the pole as he could feel the jolting of the chains continuing to crank up, but slower than before.

‘I have to straighten the poll out... or Amy will never make it!’ he was running out of juice and energy... but strength rose in him as he thought of her... He couldn’t let her down... he couldn’t let himself live knowing she was still in harm’s way...

He was mellowly delighted that she was accompanying him on this adventure. Though he never showed it, he enjoyed her hammering swings and ricocheting off robots to stop dramatically in front of her and strike a pose, knowing she loved it when he showed off. He couldn’t naturally give slight looks and charming flares to the dudes, it would be weird, but he enjoyed the moments he could when Amy was around.

True, sometimes, he felt he couldn’t fully be himself around Amy or she’d overly fawn after him... but even then... he could see and feel how much he meant to her.

He never felt the need to be more for her, even though he knew he probably should act a bit more gentlemanly here and there, which he did, but never overdid it to avoid getting exploited by Amy’s constant yearning for more attention from him.

He was never upset when she insisted to tag along with him for a journey or perilous undertaking. He just always knew he needed to keep an ear and eye out to make sure she was safe at all times... other than that? It was just fun to have her around, constantly praising him. Though... he didn’t like her ‘pampering’ behavior when she’d rub his hand too much if he punched a tough-made robot... he still didn’t mind the doting every now and then.

Clenching his abs, he finally scrunched his body enough to bend the pole somewhat back into a straighter line, causing the chain to move quickly with each thought he had for Amy and how he was determined to saving her life.

She had saved his... after all. If she had self-sacrificed herself... he would have... never... ever... forgiven himself such a lost.

Amy was almost about to collapse at the heated panel beneath her butt and feet, fearing the lava had caught up with her, until there was a jolt and she stopped fully. “S...Son...ic...” The chute opened and a sound like a swift wind brushed through her small compartment and gave her somewhat relief,... but not as much as cool hands that gripped her firmly at her sides and pulled her out.

When she came too, Tails and Knuckles were standing over her and Cream was attending her.

She remembered a similar scene with Cream... when she had almost drowned in the water when Eggman attacked back in Chris’s world... what... where was Sonic?

“I..” she could barely get a word out, and Cream kept dabbing the cool cloth on her head and adjusting the cooling pads under her back, on her sides, and over her stomach.

“Don’t worry, Miss Amy.” Cream spoke out, cheerily but with a worried and loving look in her eyes, but showing signs that Amy was going to be alright. Her little heart pattered quickly as she stopped a moment and reached back as though forgetting something, putting a flower by her side. “Mr. Sonic said to give you this when you woke up! He said you deserved to see some life after all the dull rock you were exposed too.”

And the pitch black of the heated tin chute... he must have felt awful about that being the only other way to get them out of there alive.

She had no idea about the pole that threatened to snap and dip her into slowly into a melted death... but as she got better, Tails told her Sonic had gone after Eggman, and she gathered that Sonic hadn’t told any of them the extent at what they had gone through.

‘He’s keeping up appearances... he doesn’t want to trouble or worry them more than he already has.’ she concluded, thinking that noble and brave... somewhat.

She wanted to tell them, so badly, about everything... but silently accepted Sonic’s assumed wishes.

She also didn’t want to worry anyone... but... Oh, she wanted to tell at least one soul about the encounter!!!

Sonic had... he had really... ohhh!!! Her heart was overjoyed!

But... when she came to see him...

As per-usual, he was up atop a windy place, looking over the nature he spent his whole life preserving and protecting... admiring it’s beauty and natural power.

With a kind and neutral smile on his face, he suddenly turned to see Amy walking happily up to greet him.

Seeing his gaze, she paused a moment and halted, putting her hands together and in front of her, trying to look feminine and delicate.

“Hello, Sonic.” she greeted, blushing as her eyes closed and she giggled to herself lightly.

“Amy,” he nodded to her, a true picture of boy coolness!

She squee’d, “When are you gonna act like how you really feel at seeing my cute face?” she cupped her cheeks and turned away as if ‘trying’ to be modest about it... but then blinked her eyes when Sonic responded in a way she wasn’t expecting.

“Huh? I am acting the way I always do, Amy.” He folded his arms, looking more... puzzled... than she thought he should have.

“But- ah.... uhh...Ohhh!!!” she did her signature whine and shook her once -delicate- hands in a fury of frustration down at her sides. “That’s not how you feel at all!” She contested, but he didn’t seem to want to fight as his smile slightly fell.

Her eyes came back to his neutral ones and looked somewhat pleading to return to a place they once were... or at least... had just gotten to. “Why are you being like this..? After everything we went through on that ridge...”

He just quietly stared at her, before lowering his head and closing his eyes, shaking it softly back and forth. “I think you were misguided, Amy. The heat had gotten to us and we... said things we didn’t actually mean to express.” he then looked up at the sky, as if trying to dismissive the topic further. “Of course I care about you, Amy,... But I can’t say it’s to the extent that you’re hoping for. To where I suddenly run into your arms, or something mushy like that... heheh.” he had a bead of awkwardness like a sweat drop slide down the side of his face as his mouth squirmed it’s lines to show how uncomfortable with this he all was.

Amy felt her heart chip away just like the pebbles of the rocky wall... as though she was trying to climb the wall he had pasted up again after only just placing it down back then...

“You’re... You’re not being fair...” she wanted to call him cruel, but she knew that was a lie. She wouldn’t lie... whether to herself or to him.

But this...

This hurt so much.

“What’s wrong with liking me?” she finally had the coolness of the earth to allow tears to peek out from her eyelids, but never fully emerge. Her body quivered in the cold, but she ignored it, too angry and hurt to care. “You can’t just press restart every time you show me how you feel, Sonic The Hedgehog!”

Her outburst caused a sharp bolt of lightning to split Sonic’s core in two. His heart ripped as though torn about how to follow something that dramatic and genuine up... He’d had hoped for the social norm again... but that seemed a bit too late.

He flinched back and then relaxed, scratching behind his head, “I guess you’re right, Amy... I’m not being very fair to your feelings... but you can’t blame me for being hesitant about my choices...”

She was sniffling, and he realized she probably didn’t have it in her to say more right now. Sighing, he walked down to her and smiled tenderly, kindly opening his arms to invite her to hug him.

“Let’s just say... I don’t really have a way with words.”

“They’re enough for me...” she hiccupped through her tears now pouring out. “You’ve always been enough for me. Every part of you, every inch and every word ever spoken and act ever done has been enough... when will you get that? When will you learn that whatever you choose to do for me... for my sake... knowing how hard it is for you to express that freely and openly like you did in that moment... it’s always been enough to shake me.” she fell to her legs, bawling now as Sonic awkwardly stood there and blinked, realizing she was going to break down.

“H-hang on, just a second, Amy!” he was shaking his hands out to get her to stop crying and calm down, but her tears and wailing didn’t cease, she was already emotionally compromised and it made him feel like a bigger jerk than ever before.

“Alright, enough already... I get it, Amy...” His face quite literally seemed to deflate on itself as he lost the energy and will to keep up the persona. “You heard what you heard, and I never said I wanted to take it back... just that I can’t always do that from now on. I didn’t want to lose you... that part is, and will always be, true.”

Amy took her hands away from her eyes to see the resounding truth that was on his face. “I... I don’t want-” she hiccupped, a cute and gross reminder that she had been holding all this in for some time now since Sonic’s first departure. “to lose you... hck, either...” she sniffed.

Chuckling at her appalling sense of self-preservation or even an idea of self-image in this moment, Sonic kindly wiped her eyes with his finger and looked to her as though slowly backing the wall up and away from her, but not fully putting it down yet. “I can’t promise I won’t lead you into dangerous times, Amy... but I can say that I will never leave you behind in those moments. Not ever.”

She pouted, “You shoved me in a dark chute.”

“T-To save your life!” he gestured out to her, his arms out either side of her and extended as though to plead his case, “You were right, Amy, I couldn’t have carried us both up, it was the only way!”

She continued to give him a hard look of judgement.

“You gotta believe me, honest! You knew it was the only way!”

“...It was still scary...”

“You survived!” his words almost smacked the idea as though fanning it away, but he never dared to say ‘quit complaining’ as he could tell she was just riling him up.

She smiled, unable to help it. She enjoyed seeing emotion out of him, even expressed in ways like this. She batted his chest, secretly snuggling into it, “You’re the worst, Sonic The Hedgehog! You make me cry and smile at the same time! No one does that...” she muttered the last part out, and it was almost cute... almost.

Sonic rolled his eyes, “Come on, give me a break, Amy...” It almost sounded like he was complaining, but it was to keep up with her playful antics. “Forgive me this one time?”

“I forgive you every time.” Amy mumbled into the side of his chest.

“...Forgive me for being a dunce?”

“I forgive you for that all the time too.” she continued to play, making sure her mouth’s movements and the vibration of her words could be felt in into his chest too.

There was silence...

“Forgive me for... this?” his hands suddenly caught her up and her lips were silenced for a time that for her--seemed to last eternity.

When his kiss parted he was gone with the wind, as though unable to stick around for the aftermath.

She was frozen in disbelief before shouting out in a type of ‘hoorah!’ for her success, but also...

Sonic did know the perfect timing for a romantic advance... he just didn’t always have the words or courage to say it~<3

#sonamy #sonic prompt #sonic and amy #sonicxamy #sonic x amy #cutegirlmayra #sonamy prompt #sonamy au #sonamy modern #modern!sonamy #modern sonamy

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stolethekey · 3 years

Text

i woke up just in time, now i wake up by your side

hello! this is for the (final!) @b99fandomevents—i can’t believe how far these two (and this show) have come, and i’m gonna miss them so much. i got to write this for @amydancepants-peralta, who wanted a fic where jake and amy have a disatrous first date, and then amy decides to transfer to chicago—jake has three days to convince her to stay.

enjoy! (you can also read this on ao3.)

It’s their first date, and it’s a disaster.

Neither of them has said anything in the ten minutes since they’ve sat down. Jake buries his nose into the menu, hoping that he looks occupied enough with choosing an entrée to excuse the heavy silence that has settled over the table. A few feet away, in the other side of the booth, Amy does the same thing.

A young man in a pressed suit and tie approaches their table, a small, nervous smile on his face. “Are you all ready to order?”

“Yes!” Amy nearly leaps at the chance to talk to someone who is not Jake. Jake tries not to feel too hurt by the desperate excitement in her voice. “I’ll take the chicken piccata, please.”

Jake lingers around the chicken parmesan but ends up going with a steak, because he’s determined to show Amy and maybe himself that he can eat like an adult. They pass their silk-embossed menus to the waiter, sip their waters, and suddenly it’s too quiet again.

“You got a haircut,” Jake notices, wringing his hands nervously under the table.

“It looks nice.”

“Thanks.”

There is a beat of silence that stretches just a little too long, and then Jake says, “This is awkward.”

Amy chokes out a laugh. “Yeah.”

Another moment passes. Jake swallows the non-existent saliva in his mouth. Their waiter, mercifully, returns with their food a few minutes later. Jake doesn’t want him to leave. He does, of course, and then they’re left in that terrible silence again.

Jake makes it through half his steak before speaking again. “Should we, um, just get really drunk?”

Amy grimaces, reaching for her water. “I don’t think so.” Her voice is quiet, almost defeated. “If we can’t do this sober, what’s the point?”

Something twists uncomfortably in Jake’s stomach, but he stabs his fork into his a piece of broccoli anyway. - It’s the day after their first date, and Amy asks for a transfer.

Jake learns about this through a wail from the evidence lockup that he hears from a good twenty yards away. He bursts through the door, frantic, to find Charles curled in a ball on the ground, rocking back and forth.

Charles gets out the details in between sobs, or at least enough details that Jake gets most of the picture. Amy put in a transfer to Chicago, it’s been granted on account of an emergency vacancy that needs to be filled, and she has three days left at the Nine-Nine.

“Three days,” Charles gasps, tears streaming out of his eyes. “Three days, you have to convince her to stay, Jake, you have to—”

“Hold on,” Jake says desperately, watching Charles dab at his face with a completely saturated tissue. “Let me get you another box of Kleenex.”

He opens the door to leave and runs straight into the source of Charles’s despair, in the flesh.

“Oh,” says Amy.

Jake closes the door behind him before Charles can see her and have a heart attack, then crosses his arms. “Is it true? Are you leaving?”

Amy has the grace to look self-conscious, shuffling her feet and shoving her hands in her pockets. She nods, and Jake feels strangely like the walls are swimming around him.

It just makes sense, she says. She has family there, and New York is too crowded, too expensive, and maybe Chicago is a better place to live anyway.

“Is this because of me?” Jake demands. “Because of…you know…our date?”

“No, of course not.” She doesn’t look at him as she says it.

Jake scoffs before stalking past her into the bullpen, ignoring her half-hearted call of his name. He blinks back the hot, furious tears forming in his eyes, and internally he starts a calendar. - On Day One, Jake calls in sick to work.

He responds to the “r u ok??” texts from Charles, Rosa, Gina, and Terry with a copy-and-pasted “I’m ok. Just feeling gross.” He ignores the ones that mention Amy. He also pretends like he doesn’t notice that Amy hasn’t sent him anything.

The morning is spent mindlessly scrolling through his social media beneath his blankets, with no regard for time or his grumbling stomach.

At noon, Charles posts a picture of the squad from Halloween with the caption “Gonna miss my favorite Halloween-hater. #SayonaraSantiago.” Jake decides he’s had enough Instagram for the day and finally hauls himself out of bed.

He orders a pizza, then turns his phone off and the TV on. Inadvertently, the pizza becomes both lunch and dinner and one Die Hard movie becomes a marathon—and before he knows it, the sky outside his apartment is dark.

“Well, that was productive,” Jake mutters, brushing the pizza crumbs off his lap before standing up to toss his trash into the garbage.

On Day Two, they aren’t talking to each other.

Amy looks up almost timidly as he walks out of the elevator, then waits until he reached his desk to let out a small, hesitant “Hi.”

Jake grabs the file waiting for him on his desk and walks out of the bullpen without looking at her.

So, strictly speaking, this is mostly his fault.

That fact does not do anything to quell the mixture of anger and hurt writhing in his stomach. He spends the day furiously completing paperwork in an empty interrogation room, jabbing his pen so furiously into the paper that he rips a hole in an I-918 and has to start over.

At noon, Rosa stops by with a turkey sub, which she drops wordlessly on the desk in front of him before sliding back out the door.

At five, he has completed more paperwork than he has in the last month combined. He drops the stack of files on Terry’s desk, forces a smile, and says, “Finally caught up on all those forms you’ve been hounding me about.”

Terry, his eyes piercing and slightly concerned, does not laugh. “Dismissed.”

It’s Day Three, and Holt has had enough.

He assigns Jake and Amy to label evidence in the lockup together, much to Jake’s chagrin. Amy turns and speeds off without a word. Jake turns towards Holt with a big, reproachful protest on the tip of his tongue but is cut off by Holt’s raised eyebrows and stern expression.

“Peralta, you need to get over yourself.”

“What?”

“You need to get over yourself,” Holt repeats. “Your partner of six years is leaving tomorrow, and you haven’t spoken to her in three days.”

Jake snorts, crossing his arms defensively. “Yeah, well, she’s leaving because of me, so—”

“I’m not sure that matters,” Holt says, not unkindly. “If you let her leave like this, you might never get the chance to talk to her again.”

Jake stares at the ground, furiously attempting to dig a hole in the ground with his toe.

“I know you don’t want this to be the way things end.” Holt’s voice is gentle, and Jake can’t bring himself to look up. “It would be unwise to let your pride get in the way of your last chance to save your friendship.”

“Whatever,” Jake mutters irritably, but something uncomfortable has begun to form in his gut. “Gimme that Sharpie so I can go write case numbers on a bunch of ziplock bags.”

Jake does not, in fact, get over himself—at least not for the first few hours. He chooses to instead label evidence in the same furious silence that has occupied his past three days, pretending he doesn’t see the furtive, almost timid glances Amy throws his way every few minutes.

Then he walks to a bodega for lunch and realizes mid-chew that this is Amy’s last lunch at the Nine-Nine, and the uncomfortable thing in his stomach grows a lot bigger.

He finally swallows his pride on his walk back to the precinct, and when he re-enters the evidence lockup the thing in his stomach has started feeling a lot more like guilt.

Amy walks in a few minutes after him, tossing a balled-up sandwich wrapper into the trash, and notices that he’s watching her. “You have something to say to me?”

“Yeah, actually,” Jake says quickly. “I do.”

She crosses her arms and narrows her eyes, and Jake’s heart sinks a little.

“I—uh—I’m sorry,” Jake says. “For how I reacted, and for icing you out the past few days. It was immature of me, and stupid, and I should’ve been an adult about it, but—well, I guess we both know I suck at that sometimes.”

Amy snorts, but her expression has softened slightly. “Thank you.”

“And I’m gonna make it up to you,” Jake continues, almost determinedly. “We’re gonna make this the best day you’ve ever had at the Nine-Nine.”

Amy laughs slightly. “I don’t think that’s possible, given the amount of work we have left.”

“Who cares?” Jake shrugs. “The best part of work has always been the people anyway.”

And for all the organizational skills Jake may lack, he sure knows how to delegate. All it takes is a couple text messages to a new, Amy-less precinct group chat and the rest of the Nine-Nine is off. Gina cashes in on a favor and gets Shaw’s to close its doors for the evening. Rosa makes a last-minute motorcycle trip to a local party store and uses a sizable amount of cash and her surprising aesthetic skill to acquire a large box of decorations. Charles says, “leave the food to me,” and no one is brave enough to question him about it.

Jake stays with Amy on the floor of the evidence lockup. They talk and laugh as they work, reminiscing about their years at the Nine-Nine and the particularly memorable perps they’ve brought in.

There’s also a supercut of the stuff that wasn’t work at all—the precinct parties, Charles saving Thanksgiving, the Boyle-Linetti wedding. There are the Halloween heists, the Jimmy Jabs, and there’s the Bet, with a capital B. Neither of them mentions the last one, but Jake is definitely thinking about it.

“Remember that time Terry tried to do the full bullpen and almost knocked a tooth out?” Amy asks, grinning widely. “I thought Sharon was gonna pull him out of the force immediately.”

“You have no faith,” Jake says, shaking his head. “I knew she’d let him stay.”

“You did not.” Amy points at him, narrowing her eyes. “You were so scared when she came to pick him up.”

“I was not—”

“So scared. I’ve never seen a grown man visibly tremble like that, but—”

“God, shut up.” Jake throws a balled-up piece of tape at her, and she laughs. It’s a real one, this time, one that’s bright and infectious.

They let it fade into a gentle silence, one that’s more comfortable than the ones of the past few days.

There’s a beat, and then Jake says, “Don’t go to Chicago.”

He expects Amy to be surprised by this change of subject—to recoil and give an affronted, “what?”

Instead, she sighs, long and slow, and closes the manila folder in front of her. “Jake—”

“I mean, I know it’s your decision, and I respect that,” Jake says quickly. “And if you truly meant what you said to me earlier, about how it’s important to be near your family and it’s a better place for you to live and you’ve grown out of New York—if that’s really the reason you’re leaving, then that’s fine. Just tell me, and I’ll shut up about it and we can just have a big blowout goodbye party and you can leave.”

Amy picks at the edge of her boot and says nothing.

“But if it’s not—if you’re leaving because of what happened on our date—I don’t want to be the reason you give this up, Amy. I know how much you love it here, and this place loves you too. Captain Holt is a phenomenal mentor to you, we both know that, and you might not get that in Chicago—you’ve done so much good work here that I know you’re proud of, and I can’t be the reason you don’t have that anymore.”

Amy looks at him, her eyes a stormy mix of unreadable emotions, but still doesn’t say anything.

“Look,” Jake says, splaying out his hands in front of him. “That date was kind of a disaster, we both know that. And I think it’s because we were both trying too hard, because we cared too much. Because we’re friends, Amy, and that’s what’s most important to me.”

He takes a deep breath, then says, “I don’t care if we never date. I don’t care if I never get to hug you, or kiss you, or do any of the things I’ve so desperately wanted to do. I just can’t lose your friendship. You’re the best partner I’ve ever had, and an even better friend, and I would be more than happy to just be friends with you for the rest of my life. God knows it’s more than I deserve.”

“You deserve plenty,” Amy says softly.

Jake swallows the way that makes his chest flutter. “I’m just saying—I’m laying my cards all out on the table, here. I want you to stay, and I respect it if you don’t want that. But please don’t let me be the reason for you leaving.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Amy gives him a small, wistful smile that says everything Jake needs to hear.

“Okay,” he says, taking a deep breath and wiping his hands on his jeans. “Party at Shaw’s it is, then.”

Amy slaps the last label on a duffle bag, checks her watch, and stands. “I’m actually taking off early—I need to clear up some stuff at City Hall before I leave. I’ll meet you there?”

“Oh,” Jake says, a little dumbfounded.

Amy notices his expression and shakes her head quickly. “No, it’s not—I mean, this has been settled for days, Holt knows, I was always leaving at three today. So it’s not, like, spontaneous, you know. I would’ve told you earlier, but—"

“I was being an ass. Yeah.”

Amy gives him that little sad smile again, and Jake wants to kick a wall. “I’ll see you at the bar,” she says, almost gently.

Jake forces a smile and nods. “Yeah. Looking forward to it.” - When he pushes through the doors of his favorite bar a few hours later, Jake is expecting loud music, streamers, and—if Gina’s Instagram stories were credible—possibly Mario Lopez. Instead, the bar is completely empty.

There are no balloons, no decorations—the only set table is in the middle of the floor, and on it sits a pizza, two salads, and two glasses of water.

“What—what is this?” Jake mutters, mostly to himself.

“A dinner between two friends,” Amy says, emerging from behind the bar. She gives him a small, slightly nervous smile. “And if it goes well, a second date.”

Jake blinks.

“You were right,” Amy tells him, carrying a bottle of wine and two wine glasses to the table. “Our friendship is the most important thing, here, and it means a lot to both of us. I mean, that’s why we were trying so hard in the first place, right? Neither of us wanted it to fail.”

Jake nods in silent assent, not trusting whatever his mouth would say if he let it.

“But it did fail. Miserably.”

“Uh-huh,” Jake says, somewhat stupidly.

“So the worst thing that could happen has already happened, and we’ve gotten through it. And I think—I think, now, having gone through the past few days, we know enough to give it another shot. As long as we set very clear boundaries.”

“Boundaries,” Jake repeats. “Boundaries are good.”

“Yeah,” says Amy with a slightly amused smile. “So, we’re friends. Really good friends. And that’s what we have to protect, above anything. So this is not necessarily a date. It’s a dinner, and we’re a pair of very good friends who are gonna eat it. And if we want to, afterwards, we can decide to call it a date.”

“Can you do that?” Jake asks. “Label something a date after it’s already happened?”

“Who cares?” Amy smirks. “Since when have you followed rules?”

Jake swallows and shrugs.

“Anyway, if it’s awkward, or weird, then we move past it. It’s a slightly awkward moment between friends that doesn’t have to mean anything. No more silent treatment, no more rash decisions, just two friends who are still friends afterwards. Got it?”

“Afterwards,” Jake says slowly. “So—Chicago—”

“Yeah, I’m not going,” Amy says, her eyes sparkling. “That was a dumb thing I did to avoid this guy I went on a terrible date with.”

A broad grin starts to make its way across Jake’s face. “He sounds like he sucks.”

Amy laughs, then pulls out a chair and points at it. “So—pizza?”

The grin on Jake’s face softens into something smaller, something gentler. “Definitely.”

They each take a slice, then a bite, and Jake will never admit it—but it’s the best Meat Supreme he’s ever tasted.

#b99 summer 2021 fic exchange #this one was fun i hope u guys like it!#i can't believe this show is almost over #i'm gonna miss it very much #my fics #my b99 fics #jake peralta x amy santiago #brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn 99 #b99

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dontmindifidontt · 3 years

Text

EARLY MORNINGS AND OVERTIME | Chapter 3: Nanami's POV

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Reader (fem, first person pov) Word count: 1873 Fic Summary: A smutty fic in which Nanami Kento brightens up the mundane, flour-dusted life a college dropout working in a bakery. Chapter Summary: That Day from Nanami's pov. Warnings: None yet.

Read on AO3. Masterlist. Please feel free to ask me to correct anything in the above info, this is my first fic and I want to be sure I’m following all fic-posting etiquette. Ty!

11 am. That day.

Phone calls with angry clients. Emails with angry clients. More calls. More clients. Still angry. Pacing back and forth in the cramped office kitchen waiting for the coffee to brew. More emails. Another call, this time with a not so happy investor. Checking the clock. Still waiting for that coffee. Still only sticking around in this job for the money.

I lean back in my chair and drum my fingers atop my nearly bare desk, resting my chin in the palm of my other hand. If I quit now, I begin to muse, I'd have saved up enough to last me a few years before needing to find work elsewhere. No, I wouldn't want to return at all. I need to wait longer so I can be out for good. Though I don't know how much longer I can take...

Check the clock again, it's 11:50am. The slightest twinge of excitement escapes through the deafening exhaustion in my brain: it's almost lunch. I figure I'll grant myself the short break to think it over and come back to my desk with a clear mind.

I rise and sling the grey jacket of my suit back on, pushing my chair in and quickly making way for the elevator. It's Friday and my usual spot for lunch has stopped selling my go-to, so I ought to try somewhere new. Perhaps it wouldn't kill me to buy from an actual bakery, it's not like I can't afford to stray from my usual convenience store.

The walk isn't far, but I take the time to consider my options, consider my future. All I want is to live life on my own time, without distraction from work or other people's problems. Everywhere I look, all I see are problems. Money problems, loneliness, or even worse, all the problems cursed energy brings. I try to shut it out and stick to myself. I tell myself that's not my job anymore.

I spot the bakery ahead and the negative thoughts begin to clear from my mind. To put it plainly: food makes me happy, it's one of the simplest pleasures I enjoy. I can't help but at least briefly forget the problems of the world when I'm about to take a bite out of a favorite meal.

I pull the door open and step inside, briskly walking to the register eager to begin my lunch. Impatient, I clear my throat to signal I'm ready to pay - only to be met with a reminder of why I was so desperate to clear my head in the first place. Tilting my head to get a better view, I see it clear as day: a fly head curse wrapped around the woman at the register's wrist. In an effort to ignore it, I avert my eyes, only to meet hers.

She's a few years younger than me, though I immediately recognize the familiar look captured in her eyes. The look of someone who's tired, overworked, and waiting on the clock to crawl forward. There's something else in her eyes, though, almost a bit of wonder. Is that aimed at me?

"Just the sandwich, please," I say while taking out my wallet, trying not to stare. There's no denying she has a pretty face, a beauty that appears effortless or natural, even when overtired from what I imagine was a long week of work. How one person can manage to look so charming even when carrying around the weight of a fly head I have no idea.

I notice she looks to the side before she speaks again, as if she has to look away to concentrate on what she's going to say next. She asks if I'd like a receipt and I decline, still watching over her pretty features and beginning to feel badly she has to work with that extra weight on her wrist. I'm usually better at ignoring this... there's just something about her expression. I can almost feel a sense of silent, shared exhaustion between us. I'm sure she works just as hard as I do, and she does it with a curse hanging off her body, and yet here she is smiling up at me when I'm just a customer who makes her day even busier.

I can barely make it to noon on a Friday without threatening to quit.

I turn to walk away only to hear her voice call out behind me, "come again please." With that request, something clicks. I pause as I reach the door. I tell myself these next words are based not only off of my attraction to her, but also out of a want to help someone whose work actually means something. It wouldn't cause me any harm to remove that fly head... in fact, I'm sure helping her live a more comfortable life would end up positively benefitting a lot of other people in return. Her work brings sorry people like me even a fleeting moment of joy. "Thank you. I will," is all I say.

The rest of the afternoon I couldn't shake the thought of returning to the bakery. Not returning next week when I'd order another lunch, or even Monday morning when it would open again. I had to return today. But how do I just reappear to secretly exorcise a weak cursed spirit? I'd look ridiculous to the non-sorcerer eye. There needs to be another reason for my return. I could use the situation to my advantage and ask her out to dinner... It's a pretty selfish solution, I'll admit, but the excitement and nerves building up in my stomach at just the thought were confirmation enough. She had a certain glow about her despite the clear exhaustion of her work, I can only imagine how she'd clean up for a proper date.

It's decided then, I'll offer to give my help over dinner.

6 pm. That day.

I arrive at the door at 6pm as promised, with her appearing only a few seconds later. My prediction was correct - having changed from her flour-dusted work attire to a much less casual ensemble made her beauty bloom. Seeing her round the corner in a perfectly fitted dress and heels I had to hide a smile, she must have matched her attire to fit the occasion of my own.

After introducing ourselves I turn to lead the way, excited to share my favorite steakhouse with my date. I answer her question about where we're headed by stating I'd assume that she'd prefer to spend dinner somewhere totally different from a bakery.

"What's the opposite of baked goods? A sushi bar?" I catch her eye as she asked this question, and I see a gleam of excitement and joy that hadn't yet presented itself in the short time I'd known her. She looked so eager and somehow already grateful... I wanted this happiness to last. Sushi it was then.

"Now you've guessed right. It's just around the corner here," I answer while internally sighing in relief for knowing a sushi bar nearby. It's one I used to frequent in the evenings before work began to keep me at the office too late on a regular basis.

As suspected, the hostess recognizes me straight away and we're seated in my former usual spot. Sitting face to face with my date now, I can't help but stare.

She has her hair pulled back, accentuating her cheekbones and putting each beautiful feature of her face on full display. Full lips, long curled lashes, and an ability to stare at me with eyes that will me to hold eye contact without breaking.

"So, how exactly do you plan to heal the ache in my wrist, Not Dr. Nanami?"

I guess she wastes no time in getting to the point. I don't blame her, considering I'm still a stranger and all... I chuckle at the thought of how selfish this entire idea was of me once again. Taking advantage of a curse as an excuse to share a meal with someone this beautiful? I have to laugh.

I reply to her question with the the truth: that I'll distract her while I swat this weak curse away and heal the soreness. Though I wasn't expecting to do this so soon... I need to think fast on how to create a proper distraction.

In the brief time I've known her I have noticed her tendency to look away while deep in thought. I'm counting on my observation to hold true when I blurt out, "Why don't you tell me three things about yourself, and when you're done I'll do the same."

At first she's taken aback, but just as I suspected she instinctively turns her head to the side while deep in thought, searching for a response to my proposition. Now's my chance.

I raise my right hand just a few inches above the table, keeping it low enough not to catch any attention. With fingers aimed at the pesky green fly head I flick my wrist with a snap, sending it flying and disintegrating in thin air.

She doesn't get the chance to finish even the second item about herself before feeling a difference. I smile and ease up in my seat. She looks so pretty with that hint of amusement in her eye. I feel myself hungry for more... more of her expressive eyes staring up at me, pleasured and thankful.

It hasn't even been an hour and I'm enjoying her company more than I expected. Did I hear her say she likes to cook earlier? I want to keep hearing more about her...

"So you never finished," I offer as a means to continue the conversation.

As she shares more about herself I find myself relaxing more each second, soaking up just how comfortable I feel in this moment. I'm not worried about the problems of those around me, I'm not worried about watching the clock or wishing time would pass - for the first time in a long time I'm actually wishing for the opposite.

"So you stay out of people's business, and yet here you are providing unsolicited help to me along with asking me to describe details about myself over dinner?" she asks. I barely let out an audible laugh at the way she worded this - a fair question no doubt.

"Both of those things are correct, yes," was all I let up in my response. I could never tell her the true explanation behind this date, the way I used a weak cursed spirit to my advantage. I'd sound beyond unbelievable and absurd.

We continued to play slightly coy and stare back at one another, enjoying the solitude of each other's company. By the time our meals were finished and the check arrived it felt as if the day I experienced this morning and evening I'm experiencing right now were a part of two entirely different years. Can meeting just one person make such a difference?

I closed server's book with the signed check inside and stood to pull out her chair. "Shall we?" I ask while lifting my forearm for her to hold on to as she stood. "How about I walk you home?"

.........

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Thank you for reading! Please inbox me to be tagged or to say hi :)

#jjk nanami #Kento Nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #nanami fluff #nanami x reader #slow burn #jjk smut #nanami pov #nanami jjk #there will be smut I promise #protective nanami #kento nanami #fanfic

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lizbotw · 4 years

Text

SEVEN MINUTES IN HELL: INTRODUCTON

YOU’VE ENTERED THE FOREST: CHOOSE A PATH (MASTERLIST)

pairing: various (bakugou, iida, jirou, kaminari, midoriya, todoroki) x reader

summary: You go adventuring in the woods with your friends as part of the Halloween spirit, but things don’t exactly go as planned.

a/n: this is the intro post to my collab with kristy! since it’s a choose your own adventure story, check out the masterlist here for additional details and for links to the other routes ♡ i hope you all enjoy and feedback is very much appreciated!

word count: 4.1k

Go exploring in the forest for the hell of it. It’ll be fun, they said. Halloween isn’t complete without late night adventures, they’d said. We’ll only be gone for a few hours. Mr. Aizawa wouldn’t mind.

Well, you know what? They had lied. And by they, you meant Kaminari because of course he had been the mastermind behind this grand idea. He was wrong about all of it and especially that last point because in your heart of hearts, as much as you wanted to believe you were all magically given permission to go perusing on your own, you knew that a detention notice awaited all of you when you got back. Not that anyone seemed to care.

Leaves crunching underfoot, jackets and sweaters wrapped snugly around you, Kaminari’s victims—ahem, your friends that he had roped into this scheme—trudged behind him as he jabbered on about the positives of this bonding experience.

“Do you think we’ll actually find anything?” Midoriya piped up after Kaminari’s latest spiel about this forest being infamous for the random skulls travelers always swore they spotted conveniently resting at the bases of trees or perched upon its branches. There was a barely noticeable tremble in his voice at the prospect.

You heard a scoff. “Slim chance,” Bakugou sneered from next to you as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. His hands had been stuffed into his pockets the entire time, kicking stray rocks in his path at every opportunity. “Who the hell would believe that anyway?”

As much as you wanted to scold him for ruining the Halloween spirit, you had to agree. What were the chances of you finding anything noteworthy during this expedition? There was a reason no one could ever produce actual pictures or evidence of the horrors they had supposedly witnessed.

Kaminari was apt at ignoring skeptics though—maybe a little too good at it—and Midoriya’s interest seemed to have lit a fire in him as he whirled around to face the group now, walking backwards. His expression said it all—Finally, someone believes me! “Duh, we have to carry something back to show the others. They’re totally missing out!”

“I don’t think a skeleton is an appropriate thing to bring back to our classmates. Perhaps they’d enjoy something educational, like a sample of leaves from the different trees or-”

“No one cares, four-eyes.” You’d lost count how many times Bakugou had interrupted Iida at this point. And each and every time it had resulted in an argument—including now. That would be entertaining and all if not for the fact that you were pretty sure your right ear was going deaf from being next to them.

You tuned out the biting remarks (Bakugou) and the gasps of surprise at the vulgarity (Iida), as had become routine to you at this point. What was that saying about groups tearing each other apart during horror movies before anyone even gets killed off? Or maybe you had just made that saying up yourself… hmm… well whatever it was, it definitely applied right now.

“This is stupid,” Jirou mumbled from your other side and you almost groaned. How did you end up sandwiched between the resident pessimists of the group again?

Maybe it was the combination of Bakugou and Jirou that was starting to make you skeptical, or maybe it was the fact that you had been walking for who knows how long and your legs were tired, or the fact that you were hungry and thirsty, or that there was no reception out here, or—or maybe it was just all of it. You wrinkled your nose the more you thought about it. Maybe everyone was right, there really was nothing out here. You suddenly wanted to go home, sick of the whistling wind, the towering trees, and the flits of rapidly fading sunlight that shone through the leaves.

“Kaminari, maybe we should turn back.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying!” Jirou threw her hands up in exasperation. “Why did any of us agree to this anyway?”

“Just for the record, I’m only here to make sure none of you do anything irrational.” That was true. The only reason Iida of all people ended up on this expedition was because he’d heard Kaminari advertising the idea a little too loudly and realized there was no way to talk him out of it. So here he was, playing babysitter.

“Yeah? Well, just for the record, I don’t need you to watch me.” And Bakugou was back to stirring up trouble, just when the latest argument had started to die down and the ringing in your ear had stopped.

You almost felt bad for Kaminari being at the receiving end of everyone’s frustration until you saw that his grin was no where close to faltering and in fact he seemed to take the challenge head on. You admired his drive but you were wondering for the umpteenth time why he didn’t just bring Kirishima, Mina, or Sero on the expedition too—they wouldn't be complaining… much. (Probably because those three were so into Halloween it was insane. Tough chance of getting them away from the yearly Halloween festival planning. They didn’t want to miss anything.)

He clicked his tongue in disapproval, shaking his finger at the others. If anything, you were impressed how he was able to navigate the forest walking backwards while continuing his chiding. On second thought… your eyes darted up ahead to a rapidly approaching object. Wait, was that—

“You guys seriously have to lighten uHHH-AH.” A crash echoed through the trees as Kaminari tripped over a well-placed log, his back hitting the ground and knocking the air out of him. In the distance you saw a few birds fly out of the trees in surprise at the noise, beating wings black against the afternoon sky.

“You really should’ve been watching where you were going,” Todoroki spoke up from the back of the group after a moment of shocked silence from everyone—even Bakugou had shut up.

“Are… are you okay?” Midoriya was the first to check up on him, walking forward and crouching down next to his friend, craning his neck to examine him closer.

Kaminari sat up, rubbing his head. “Yeah, never been better.”

“We should all be more careful. We don’t have a first aid kit to use if something goes wrong.” Please, Iida, it’s not that serious—but also, good point. In the middle of the woods with no first aid kit—way to make this seem way more scary than it actually is.

“Guys, quit worrying—”

“I wasn’t worrying,” both Bakugou and Jirou cut in.

“—I’m fine, see?” He stood up, rustling the leaves at his feet further. He did seem fine, although you were sure he would start complaining later. “I’m tough!”

Kaminari admitting that everything was alright opened the floodgates for the concern from the others to morph back into claims of how you should definitely not be in this forest at all, now paired with chastising him for not being more observant.

“I’m turning back. And you’re coming with me so we don’t get lost.” Jirou took a hold of your arm to pull you after her. “You're the only rational one around here.”

“Wait, but I-”

“I uh… I don’t think it's a good idea for us to split up.” Midoriya’s attempt at stopping Jirou didn’t exactly work as intended.

“Then we should all go.”

“That’s not really what I-”

“It’s probably for the best,” Todoroki said. He shrugged when you looked at him in surprise; he had been fairly neutral about the ordeal up until that point. “Kaminari,” he turned to look at the blond now, “We should get your head checked out too, to make sure you don’t have a concussion.”

“I didn't hit my head,” Kaminari whined, “Seriously guys, you worry way too much.” He shifted his weight to his other foot, crossing his arms as he took a second to think. “...but fine, if you really want to go back, we’ll go. Not just because I fell though.”

“Finally,” Jirou breathed out. You felt her grip on your arm tighten for a second and then she released it.

“So… which way?” Midoriya prompted, eyes scanning the trees that were starting to look a little too similar now that you thought about it.

Everyone turned expectantly to Kaminari, although it seemed that the same idea was already budding in their minds as well.

He blinked at the sudden attention and then a sheepish smile overtook his features and he rubbed the back of his head, averting his gaze. “Well…”

“We’re lost,” Bakugou deadpanned. It wasn’t a question.

Kaminari tried to skirt around the issue, making up half-excuses and telling all of you not to worry, fumbling with his words. He wasn't very convincing. Realizing it was a lost cause a minute into the act, he gave up with a deep sigh. “Okay, yeah, we’re lost. We have been… for a while.” He mumbled that last part.

“We what?”

Kaminari held his hands up in defense. “Woah, woah, Bakugou, calm down. I'm sure I can get us out of here, no sweat.”

“I knew we passed that tree before. We’ve been walking in circles this entire time.” You looked over to see who had said that and found Todoroki, hand on his chin, staring contemplatively at a large tree with a spiral carved into its trunk. Now that you thought about it, it did look familiar.

The quiet that had followed ever since Kaminari fell was slowly falling apart, being replaced with loud, frantic discussions about what the fuck were you going to do. The bordering desperation in some of their voices wasn’t well hidden—it didn’t help ease anyone’s nerves that none of you had told a single soul where you were headed off to, hoping that no one would notice your absence at all. You were starting to realize just how many bad decisions everyone here had made up until this point. Note to self: maybe don’t get mad at horror movies portagonists for acting stupid once you get back to your dorm and flip on a new show to watch (now you were thinking about your dorm and how cozy you could have been in it right now, safe and sound with all of your friends for an impromptu movie night).

You shook your head. No time to think about what you could’ve been doing. Someone around here had to do something about this chaos because it seemed like everyone was seconds away from being at each other’s throats and you're pretty sure that's exactly what happens before things go horribly wrong in horror movies.

You cleared your throat, clapping your hands together. You took a deep breath, filling your lungs with air before opening your mouth and— “Shut up!” The echo of your shout had even more birds in the distance fleeing from their trees (oops?).

Everyone fell quiet, all looking at you now and their pinning stares were not happy. “Um…” You hadn’t actually thought of what to say once you got their attention. What could any of you do? “We need a plan.”

“No, duh.” Bakugou rolled his eyes.

You fixed him with a glare. “I said shut up. Anyway, we’re not going to get anything done at this rate if we all keep panicking.”

“You’re right,” Iida spoke up, “We all need to remain calm. Let’s discuss this properly.”

Looks like your plan to instill some order among the group hadn’t been a complete bust because everyone was nodding in agreement now. Maybe this could work and you all would be safely back at U.A. within a few hours.

That had been until the downpour had started, rain splattering through the trees and soaking into the fabric of your shirt.

A drop of water came from above, landing on your arm and chilling to your core. Then there was another and another, cold and unrelenting. No one had noticed the gray clouds heavy with moisture rolling in and it was like it all came down at once, stunning you all in place before you realized you were getting absolutely soaked.

It was a blur what happened after that, but let’s just say that the sense of order from before didn't last long. Those who had hoods on their jackets pulled them up, and anyone who didn’t held their hands up to shield themselves, or pulled their jackets up and over their heads by the collar. In a frenzy to find shelter, you all took off, feet thumping against the ground, yelling about your horrible luck so far. It was as if the forest had decided that you had been standing around too long talking and that it was time to get a move on.

The canopy of trees darkened the area, and you had to focus on the forest floor to prevent yourself from tripping several times. It was a miracle you all were able to stick together considering that it felt like you ran off in a seemingly random direction. The search for cover was suspiciously short though when Kaminari spotted a cabin in the distance. No one thought to question it much and before you knew it, you had shoved open the unlocked door and collapsed inside. The sound of the rain against the roof was deafening, but once the door was shut the clatter wasn’t as bad.

After everyone had caught their breaths and settled in, they’d gone back to arguing, mostly because no one was expecting to get drenched like that. Cute outfits? Ruined. Kaminari was going to be put on the chopping block for that one.

“It doesn’t make sense for us to be stuck here. Can’t we just use our quirks to find our way out?” you asked. The solution seemed obvious to you and you folded your arms against your chest, trying to keep warm.

Todoroki stood near one of the small windows, dusty from years of disuse, and swiped a hand over the glass to clean it. “I don’t think we should go out just yet. There’s low visibility with all this rain so there’s a high chance we might lose track of each other.”

Grumbles of agreement at that brought you to where you were now, sitting ducks in an ominous building in the woods with some of your best friends. This was starting to seem like some over done, predictable horror movie plot more and more.

“Can you help me carry those?”

You snapped out of your stupor, eyes drawn to the fire blazing in the mantle, and then up at the person who had spoken. Jirou.

She was pointing at a stack of logs near the door that Todoroki was crouched in front of, running his hands over the wooden pieces. You wondered how long you had been sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall for, acutely aware of the ache in your back and the stiffness in your legs now. This was boring.

“Well?” Your eyes snapped back to Jirou, her head tilted expectantly.

You cracked a smile, rising to your feet. “What? Are they too heavy for you?”

She rolled her eyes and pushed your arm lightly in retaliation before walking over to the stack. You followed in her wake.

Up close now, you could see that Todoroki was using his quirk to dry off the wood, the dripping droplets that splattered onto the wooden floor slowly dissipating away under his touch.

Strangely enough, aside from a light coating of dust, the cabin seemed ready to live in (or, er, crash in… for now, until you got back to U.A. and could forget this ever happened) and a small pile of logs had been situated next to an empty fireplace. Todoroki had thrown the wood in and lit it up no problem, casting light over the tiny room and providing some much needed warmth, but there wasn’t enough to keep the flame burning long.

The rain had eased up not long ago and with that Iida had decided to venture out to find more kindling. It didn’t take him long to skirt around the area to find branches and fallen logs that could be lugged back to the cabin with his super speed, and currently he was still out there gathering extra pieces that you’d surely need through the night. Despite the rain no longer pouring down, the sky had darkened significantly and it was decided that it was probably best if none of you went very far out there; same reason as the rain—low visibility. (You’d already been stuck here for a few hours so a few more until sunlight breached the horizon didn’t seem too bad… right?)

Normally wet kindling wasn’t ideal and would be a recipe for disaster once the flames caught ahold of it and the room filled with smoke from the combination, but luckily for you, Todoroki was perfect for survival expeditions. The plan was that he would simply dry off the wood with light heat from his hands, similar to how he had dried off most of your clothes earlier on to prevent anyone from getting sick from the cold.

While Iida went looking for large enough logs outside, Todoroki worked diligently to dry them off, sitting expectantly by the door for the next bundle. Then, one of the others would lug the wood either to rest next to the fireplace for when you needed it, or throw it into the flame when it started to die down. There weren’t exactly perfect pieces of wood laying around the forest, so many of them burned out quickly if they were too small and had to be replaced frequently.

You noticed the flickering light of the current flame starting to die down. Todoroki noticed your footsteps behind him and looked back at you before standing and moving so that you and Jirou could grab either end of a large log, slowly walk it over to the flame and then swing your arms for momentum a bit before throwing it in. You repeated the process with a few more smaller pieces and within no time the flame was back to its healthy, roaring self. The glow it cast would be cozy if the situation was any one but this.

Wiping your brow from the exertion, you had your other hand on your hip as you stared into the fire and admired your work. Jirou lingered a second by your side doing the same before walking off to go slump down in a seat somewhere, and you felt eyes on the back of your head once she left. You spared a glance over your shoulder to find Todoroki still standing in the same spot as before with his arms crossed watching you.

“How long do you think these will last us?” you asked to break the tension, referring to the slowly growing pile of wood.

Todoroki’s eyes shifted away from you and to the pile on the floor. “That should be good. I’ll tell Iida we should be set for the night when he comes back.”

You nodded and looked down. Not able to think of anything else to say, you padded back over to the corner you had been sitting in before and slotted yourself against the wall as had become familiar at this point, leaning your head back and closing your eyes. Maybe if you ignored the situation it would all pass faster.

“This is just plain depressing.” You pried one eye open in exasperation at the interruption—come on, you had just gotten in the “zone” (oh well, not like you had a time limit on doing that anyway). Kaminari was standing right in front of the fireplace at the head of the room, addressing all of you. He was back to giving you that disapproving shake of his head, the same kind he gave when he thought you guys were being boring. Uh oh… where’s this going to go? It was great and all that someone wasn’t feeling down in the dumps over this whole thing, but with it being Kaminari you weren’t sure how high the scale of how great it was actually went.

Bakugou’s eyes were following Kaminari’s movements now, waiting to see what dumb idea he had probably come up with this time—preiovusly, Bakugou had been staring out of the window at the full moon, elbow resting on the window sill and head in his palm (it was nice to see him calm and peaceful like that for a change). Even Midoirya, who had been alternating between sit-ups, push-ups, and planks in the the opposite corner of the room (where he got the energy for all of that right now was beyond you), had sat up to focus on Kaminari, his knees bent and his arms looped around his knees.

“You guys seriously need to lighten up,” Kaminari continued, dismissively gesturing with his hands as if to ward off the negativity all of you were emitting right now.

You saw Jirou quirk an eyebrow. “Yeah? And how should we do that? In case you haven’t noticed, we’re stranded here.”

“Well, yeah, I know that, but that doesn't mean we can't have some fun.” He could tell he was already losing everyone’s attention as you diverted your gazes, each wanting to go back to being solemn on your own. “Why don’t we play a game?” he tried as a last ditch effort.

You let out a huff through your nose. “And that game would be…?”

“Truth or dare! Obviously.”

“Right,” you breathed out to yourself, rolling your eyes, although you couldn’t help but smile a little at the thought.

“I wouldn’t mind that.” Bless your heart, Midoriya.

“Awesome! See, at least someone around here knows how to enjoy themselves.” Kaminari planted his hands on his hips and the light of the fireplace behind him illuminated his outline. “Okay, the rest of you sticks in the mud have to play too. Form a circle in the middle of the room. Chop chop now. You have to admit it beats sitting around like this.”

You looked over to your side when you heard Jirou sigh and then the creak of the floorboards when she got up. “I guess.”

Midoriya had already gotten up from his spot and had lowered himself down to sit near the center. Jirou followed suit.

“Whatever.” Bakugou cast the window one last look before he moved towards the forming circle.

Just as Todoroki stepped forward as well, the door swung open with a creak, and Iida stepped inside, dropping the wooden bundles in his arms to the floor. Just as he moved to go back outside to no doubt collect more, not even sparing a glance further into the room, Todoroki stopped him, reaching out a hand to grasp his arm. “We have enough, Iida. I think we’ll be fine tonight.”

He nodded. “Sounds good then. I guess all that’s left to do now is wait this whole thing out,” Iida said. His gaze flickered from Todoroki’s face to the wood pile near the fireplace in order to see if there really was enough and that was when he noticed the circle forming in the center of the room. “…what’s going on?”

“We’re playing truth or dare!” Kaminari declared from the head of the circle where he’d sat down.

“You don’t have to play if you don’t want to,” Todoroki said.

“Nonsense. I think it’ll be good to lift our spirits. Excellent idea, Kaminari.” Kaminari was absolutely beaming at the praise from Iida.

Iida stepped further into the room and leaned forward to shake his head out from side to side, water droplets flying from his hair—they’d probably dripped down from the towering trees onto him as he moved around outside, even after the storm.

As Todoroki and Iida choose their spots in the circle, you did as well, rising from your place against the wall, stretching, and then situating yourself among the others.

Once everyone was done squirming in their seats and getting comfortable, Kaminari clapped his hands together and leaned forward as if he had a secret to tell you all. A mischievous, almost dangerous glint was in his eye and the fireplace cast shadows over his face. “Let’s play.”

Catching the shine of the full moon in the far edge of the room in your peripheral, you shivered. You had a feeling the night was about to go from humbling to downright horrifying in true Halloween fashion.

TRUTH OR DARE: WHAT WILL YOU CHOOSE?

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supermarvelgirl15 · 3 years

Text

Delicate Type of Beauty- Chapter 2: Coffee?

Summary: You seem to struggle to carry a lot of things. Bucky needs to learn that it's okay to have friends.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes × f!oc-insert

Word Count: 1,705

Warnings: None I think

A/N: This is pretty much a filler tbh lol. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy!

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

××××××

One more. You could carry one more bag.

Splat.

Maybe not.

You cursed under your breath as you squatted down, trying to grab the bag that you dropped on the ground. Hopefully the contents inside didn’t spill and they were all still good. You should really stop trying to carry more things than you possibly can. It’s just, why would you make multiple trips when you can just take one?

The bags that seemed to fall from your grip every thirty or so feet were meant for the veterans in the shelter that had been built post-Blip. The shelter needed all the help that it could get, so you decided to buy them some sandwiches with a few extra snacks from the grocery store. It wasn’t the ideal breakfast food, but you were sure they would still love them.

The search for your brother so far has turned up empty handed. The security cameras at the docks had somehow been wiped, which immediately raised some red flags. The footage mysteriously cut off as soon as Colton parked his car, picking back up again a couple hours later.

Technology wasn’t exactly your strong suit, so you sent the tape to one of the members of your old SEAL team, Rhett. Rhett was probably the smartest one that was on your team, and if anyone could do it, it was him. So while you were waiting on some feedback from him, you were going to help where you could.

Bucky wasn’t exactly sure why he was out this early in the morning, but he needed to be anywhere where he wasn’t being trapped inside his own head. His nightmares weren’t getting any better and the one last night was a bad one. He was tired, grumpy, and desperate.

He needed something to distract himself. If he tried to get Yuri out this early, it would certainly get him cursed out in Japanese. There wasn’t really anyone else for him to go to anymore, so that just left the option of him wandering around the streets of Brooklyn.

Brooklyn. He grew up here a long time ago and it was barely recognizable anymore. Sure, there were places that were still the same since the forties, but it just seemed different. Maybe it was because he was different.

A familiar sound of curses made him look up from where he was watching his feet, looking around for the source. His eyes landed on you, squatting down to pick up one of the various bags that you had dropped. Why was he always catching you in these situations?

He’s seen you a few times since the first time you met, but it was nothing more than offering a small smile to the other. Sometimes you would say something to him in passing and he would just nod in acknowledgement.

Could he be more friendlier to his new neighbor? Yes, he could be way nicer to you. The old him would have even tried to make a move on you. He just wasn’t in the market for new friends at the moment. Especially ones that knew who he was.

At first, he was just going to continue on his way, not wanting to interact with anybody while he was in a mood. But when he saw you plop down on a bench with that defeated look on your usually cheerful face, he couldn’t not help you.

Bucky glanced around him as he approached you, taking his gloved hands out of pockets. You didn’t seem to notice him, too immersed with checking whatever was inside the bags that you had been carrying.

“Good mornin’,” Bucky greeted you, sticking his hands back into his pockets once again. He observed as your sad look from before quickly changed back into your usual happy one. Then he noticed how you internally did a double take once you realized that it was him speaking to you.

“Morning,” you replied with a smile as you set the bag you were looking through to the side with the others. A voice inside his head made him wonder how someone like you could smile at him like that, but he quickly blocked it out.

He cleared his throat before he continued talking. “You looked like you could use some help,” he gestured to the bags on the bench beside you.

You looked down at the bags, nodding slightly. “I… Yeah, I could definitely use a lot of help,” you chuckled as you stood up. “I’m taking these to the veterans shelter down about three blocks. I don’t want to cause you any trouble by asking you for help,” you licked your lips as you picked up a few of the bags.

Bucky shook his head as he started picking up the rest of the bags. “You didn’t ask. I offered,” he reminded you, starting in the direction of the shelter. You stood there in shock for a moment before shaking it off and quickly followed him.

The walk to the shelter was pretty much a quiet one, neither one of you knowing how to start a conversation with the other. You couldn’t help but try to sneak a glance to his left hand, trying to see if any metal was peeking out. You wondered if he noticed what you were doing, watching as he shifted the bags in his hand somewhat nervously out of the corner of your eye.

Bucky stayed outside as you went into the shelter to drop off the bags of food with the volunteers. He didn’t feel comfortable going inside, not wanting to risk actually seeing someone that would know him. If anyone was going to recognize him, it would be war veterans.

You came back out a few minutes later, waving goodbye to one of the old men before you shut the door behind you. You stuffed your hands into your jacket pockets as you walked over to where Bucky was standing.

“Thanks for helping me. I’d probably still be dropping them on the street if you didn’t show up,” you laughed slightly. Bucky gave you one of his awkward smiles in return, telling you not to mention it. He turned to leave, taking a few steps away from you, but something came over you. You couldn’t let him leave just yet.

“Would you… like to get some coffee?”

Bucky stopped in his tracks, turning back to face you. He knows that he should say no. He didn’t want to let anyone get close to him.

“Sure, why not?”

★

The café wasn’t too far from their apartment building, Bucky finds out. He wondered why he’s never been here as he listened to you tell him how now was the perfect time to go since the breakfast rush was coming to an end. He realizes you were right when you both sit down in a booth tucked away in the corner. There were only a couple other people in there, making the café a nice contrast to the busy streets just outside.

The waitress that took your coffee orders made the place even cozier with her soft spoken voice. You told him that her name was Jolene and that she started not too long before you moved into the apartment across from him. He’s been here longer than you and you’re already making more friends than him. Then again, he wasn’t exactly trying to.

When the waitress came back with your orders, you slipped her your debit card to pay for both of your drinks, much to Bucky’s protest. He tried to argue that he could pay for his own coffee.

You shook your head, blowing into your coffee to cool it off some. “It’s my way of thanking you. Plus, I get a military discount,” you smiled cheekily at him, taking a sip of your drink.

Bucky’s eyebrows knitted together as he looked over at you, the money problem briefly leaving his mind. “You’re military?” He questioned, glancing you up and down. He honestly didn’t take you as a soldier, but some things about you did make sense now.

You nodded as you reached into your shirt, pulling out your dog tags to show him. “I used to be. Apparently my squad was disbanded during the Blip, so they put me in early retirement,” you answered him, the last sentence coming out bitterly.

Bucky nodded apologetically, taking a small sip from his coffee. “It seems the Blip screwed over a lot of people,” he commented, glancing around the café.

You opened your mouth to change the subject, but was interrupted by your phone going off. You apologized to Bucky before looking at it, seeing that it was a message from Rhett. Your heart started beating faster as you read the three words he sent you.

I got it.

You stuffed your phone back into your pocket as you started swiftly sliding out of the booth. “I’m so sorry, but something just came up. I know this is so rude,” you started rambling out an apology.

“It’s fine, really. Everything okay, Kris?” Bucky stopped you, looking at you worriedly. He hoped it wasn’t something he did.

You bit your lip, nodding frantically. “Yeah, everything’s fine. It’s just a, a family emergency. Um, if you give me your number, I’ll let you know when I can make this up to you,” you tell him, your eyes widening once you realize you literally just asked James Barnes for his number. “If you want to, that is. I totally understand if you don’t want to give it to me.”

Bucky laughs slightly, easing your anxiety some. He definitely should laugh more. “Yeah, uh, it’s…” He started reading out his number to you as you quickly typed it into your phone.

You give him another smile as you saved his number. “I’m so sorry. I’ll talk to you later, James,” you said, turning to leave before getting stopped by Bucky’s voice.

“You can just call me Bucky. The only person that calls me James anymore is my therapist,” he cringed at his attempt at a joke. Who tells someone they barely know that they have a therapist?

You didn’t seem to mind as you smiled at him again. “Goodbye, Bucky.”

××××××

@bucky-bunnie @learisa @denimbex1986 @magconfangurl1 (If you would like to be removed/added please let me know!)

#DToB #marvel #marvel imagines #bucky barnes × reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #winter soldier #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #sebastian stan #kay writes

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capriccio-con-espressione · 4 years

Text

Hotspot Pt.1

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 1331

Warning: Sub!Yangyang, Dom!Reader, Femdom, Degradation, Profanity, Public humiliation, Edging, Orgasm denial, Spanking, Yangyang's lame Earth sandwich joke

A/N:

1. Yangyang’s name (揚) has the same pronunciation as “lamb/sheep” (羊) in Mandarin, so y’all would see the word-fuck (X) word-play (O) on this often throughout the fic

2. Been planning to re-upload this fic from my old deleted acc but wanted to extend it and make some changes, yet was clueless before, but then I eventually got inspired, so I decided to release it as part one of something bigger, thanks to this anon for providing me with ideas for part two, and thanks to @wildernessuntothemselves for forcing (X) suggesting (O) me to collect the XiaoHenYang aka her TMTM trio

3. It’s almost Xiaojun’s birthday yet I posted Yangyang content, I’m sorry my lovely prince. Anyone who’s thirsty for him can read my month-old upload here

“Goddamn-f-fuck, please!” Yangyang swears in utter desperation as you suddenly withdraw your hand from his cock, denying his first orgasm. He shifts in the chair in an attempt to grab you, but futile since his hands are tied behind it, as he’s kneeling on the seat facing backward with his ass pushed out, while his legs are forced open wide since both his thighs are secured to the armrests of the chair as well, rendering him into a compromising position.

“Brats like you don’t deserve to cum.” You state icily before thrashing his sensitive rear with the paddle. "You never want to miss a chance to annoy me with all that endless fussing, don't you?"

"I don't deserve this punishment with just that Earth sandwich joke...ahh stopppp…"

"That lame joke is not the point, you brat." You hiss, tugging his hair, as Yangyang's hard-on jolts at the sudden sensation of pain. "Remember how awfully much you snickered about making a sandwich with my pussy around your dick hmm? Giving me that stupid devilish grin whenever you have one for meals? Even shamelessly bragging about it in front of other members to embarrass the hell out of me? You are just a pathetic horny little lamb…"

"C-c'mon, it's not that b-bad when you actually like my teasing..." Yangyang gasps in between your relentless spanks in arousal, as you can tell that his second orgasm is nearing.

"Oh? How you like this sandwich with my hand then?" You smirk as you wrap your hand around his cock again, fingers irregular dancing on the tip yet not pumping him.

"Ahh-L-like it! Just let me cum goddamn it!" Yangyang's whole body tenses up and curls up as he can't handle the teasing anymore.

"That's not how you ask for things, bad little lamb." You chastise while giving a slap on his angry red cock, earning a yelp from him.

“...P-please Mistress let me cum…” Yangyang begs, his proud form finally breaking down.

“Good try, but not quite.” You smirk, before resuming his spanking again.

“Ahhh Mistress I’ll be a good little lamb for you...now p-please let me cum…” Yangyang’s voice falters at the denial of his second orgasm.

“That’s my cute little lamb…” You praise as you peck his now teary cheek, before finally granting him release with your hand, as he lets out a loud moan upon climaxing.

“Now you know you shouldn’t be bragging about sandwiches too often.” You embrace Yangyang in your arm while soothing his red flesh with the other, calming the sobbing boy down.

“You should be more kind to me since you already sin too much torturing me…” Yangyang gazes into you as he forms a cheeky pout, the way how he quickly returns to his usual mischievous self surprising you a little.

"I am already showing you enough kindness by letting you cum without much teasing." You sneer as you wipe the white tendrils off Yangyang’s gradually limping cock and your hand.

"Without much teasing? Says someone who literally edged me twice, so fucking bossy." Yangyang retorts while letting out a sigh of relief as you untied his hands behind the chair.

"I am sure you can take much more than that, usually I would edge you for hours until your bratty mouth can't talk back to me anymore." You imply your annoyance for his endless ripostes, since it's always difficult for your boyfriend to just be grateful for his orgasms instead of being cheeky.

"Nah you are just sadistic as hell. You are just one cruel cougar who loves my suffering too much." Oblivious of your hint for him to behave, your boyfriend still continues his complaints, redressing himself while smirking at you.

"Cheeky boys deserve to be disciplined with cruelty, and somehow you like it too much, and love to ask for more by being a nuisance, don't you, my little painslut?" You reply slyly, another punishment for this ungrateful boy beginning to form.

"Now that your butt cheeks are rosy hot spots…” You say thoughtfully as you rub his ass teasingly. “...I am gonna give you the taste of real embarrassing punishment. Now give me your phone."

Yangyang reluctantly hands you his phone. "What for?"

"Unlock it."

"No!"

"Just obey me you brat." You hiss while tugging his hair, forcing him to comply with a wince.

"Don't worry, I am not gonna post something weird on social media." You reassure him while opening up settings on his phone. "But, everyone will know someone has been a slutty hotspot in heat while connecting to wifi…" You triumphantly smirk as you click "Save" after changing his SSID.

"'Mistress’ Slutty Lil 🐑🐑'? Hell no that's embarrassing!!" He snatches back his phone in an attempt to undo your act of mischief.

"Do not ever try to change it." You demand sternly, covering his screen with your palm. "If I catch you disobey me, you will get punished even harder. Understand, Mistress’ slutty little lamb?"

"Alright…" Yangyang sighs and facepalms, already internally freaking out about how his members will react upon seeing this.

You smirk in delight as you both leave your makeshift playroom, which is a storage room, to catch up on your normal lives. Yangyang returns to his members as you meet up with other staff to participate in a meeting discussing details of upcoming shootings for the next project.

Yangyang slouches back to his room but gets caught up with Lucas before he can retreat behind the door.

"Yo bro, care to explain this?" Lucas holds his screen in front of the younger's face, grinning so knowingly that Yangyang has to fight back every urge to punch him in the face.

"See no evil." He weakly protests, hoping not to embarrass himself even further, and shuts the door in Lucas' face.

Thinking he has escaped the ordeal, he doesn't realize how bad things can get until he opens up the WayV group chat. Hendery has posted a screenshot of all the WiFi SSIDs his phone detected and circled the obvious questionable one, and all the other members reacted with either stickers with laughing expressions or words like "Our naughty 🐑 has finally got the taste of his medicine!" or "Y/N'S REALLY MAD LMAO", all of their mockings make Yangyang wants to dig a hole and bury himself in it.

Red with both embarrassment and resentment, he decides to defy you as his devilish side begins to awake. Since he's never the type to listen well to anyone, then why should he this time? Besides, he feels his body begins to heat up with a familiar tingle again as he thinks about all the pain and degrading words that will be inflicted on him after you find out about his rebel, as he brazenly invites more with more provocative and insolent remarks, then eventually feeling himself dissolving into ascending sting and humiliation that turn into euphoric pleasure soon afterwards…

Licking his lips at the indecent thoughts, he alters the SSID and waits impatiently for your discovery.

Ten minutes later, he receives a screenshot from you as well as an angered message from you. "'Mistress’ bossy af 👿'? You fucking brat."

"Just telling the truth 🤷"

"You are originally getting 20 paddles on your bare ass, now it's 40."

"Shouldn't you focus on your meeting first?"

"IDGAF now. Change it to 'Fuck Lil Slutty🐑 Pls😩' in under a minute or you're getting 80."

80 spanks? Yangyang ponders. Tho being a painslut he is, he still needs to make sure that he can function normally tomorrow to avoid more unwanted attention. Sighing, he decides to give in to you and finally obeys.

Sliding off nearly every notification from the uproar in his group chat for this even more humiliating SSID, he feels unexpectedly even more exhilarated at your praising messages that concludes with a specific time and place to meet up for the main course of punishment that he both somewhat fears but also craves.

#nct #wayv #nct smut #wayv smut #yangyang #yangyang smut #liu yangyang #sub!nct #sub!wayv #sub!yangyang #sub!nct smut #sub!wayv smut #hotspot #my writings #dom!reader #wayv imagines #nct imagines

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hellraisered · 4 years

Note

hello i'm back give me jason x reader hunting together

jason voorhees / reader || hunting together. notes at end of post.

"God help me," She clutched your sleeves as if they were the only thing keeping her upright. There's a nasty gash on her arm, bleeding profusely and soaking through the rest of her clothing. Nails dug through the fabric of your shirt, started to bury into your flesh, making a home for themselves in the warmth it provided.

Snot ran down her lips, and her breathing was heavy - you could only assume she had been running for some time now. You regard her with obvious concern, reflexively grabbing her wrists.

"Jesus Christ, what happened to you?"

She thrust herself into your arms without permission, needing something to ground herself on - and you held her. The only thing the woman could do was shake, and sob into the crook of your neck for a solid minute. You allowed her to find safety in your person until her breath steadied, and she took you by the hand. Her hands were clammy, blistered, and you're sure that whatever this girl had been through, it was a lot.

"We have to go," she wiped the snot off of her lips with her unused wrist, cleared her throat. Fear is far more evident in her voice, now that she could more clearly speak. "We have to go, now."

"What's the hurry- what happened?"

She looks at you as if you were unhinged, a beast in your own right. She wasn’t completely wrong.

"You haven't heard the screaming? From the campsite, less than a mile from here?"

You only offer a shake of your head, and gesture to the headphones sitting around your neck and accompanying music player.

"Came out here just to be alone with my tunes for a while, these woods are pretty relaxing at night. Was about to head home, right before I ran - or, you ran into me. Why, is something going on at camp?"

"It's a good thing I found you then," she declares after a pause. You think she might regard herself as your savior now - does she get any pride out of finding you, you wonder? Does she feel like she has something to protect? 'Safety in numbers' as a concept has always amused you, especially in recent times.

"We're not alone in these woods- there's a man in here; at least, I think it's a man. Killed my," you can hear her voice break, and you don’t need to look at her to tell that she’s crying. "-killed my boyfriend."

Despite her brief fault in tone, she continues to walk while she talks, but you doubt she has a clue where she's going.

"Holy fuck," you pause for a moment to register information presented, "I'm so sorry."

"We can be sorry later- we can't worry about what's already happened right now - we need to get out of here."

Her resolve is strong, as is her survival instinct, and you walk a little faster to match her pace.

"Listen, I spent most of my childhood in these woods; I can lead us out. Then, when we’re safe, we can call the police."

She turns to look at you to affirm what you had just said, and there's a glint of hope in her eyes.

"Get us out of here, then- but make sure he doesn't follow."

The two of you quietly walk along an unmarked path through the forest for a decent amount of time, making sure to occasionally muss up fallen leaves behind you to cover your tracks. That seemed to placate her enough, and she eventually visibly calmed. Still, the woman didn't say much. Who were you to blame her; she'd just witnessed who knows how many people die, and from the look of the coagulating gash on her arm she refused to let you bandage, very barely grazed death's grip.

"There's a spot I know, just up ahead - abandoned, has been for a while now, but still has the phone lines connected. Called my mom to pick me up once when it was snowing too hard for me to hike back, but I imagine the road she used back then has been decommissioned since."

As you climb the hill that was the final stretch, the log building slowly comes into view. Abandoned was an understatement, and you could already smell the rot and mold from a few yards away. Her face contorts into an apprehensive expression, but you tug her along; you were someone she could trust, and she'd rather be with a stranger than be by herself right now. You climb the stairs of the porch, careful to avoid one that had given out, and use your shoulder to dislodge the closed door.

There is a phone in the house, much to her surprise and relief, and she pushes past you to get her hands on it.

"It works," and she presses a few numbers on the phone to test if it still functioned, yet again on the brink of tears, "God - it works! We're getting out of here. Thank you so much, I-"

Hot blood spatters against your face, drips down your cheek, and an involuntary shriek rips itself from her lips. You can taste it in your mouth - salty metal, still warm, fresh from origin. Machete now drenched in red shimmers brilliantly, having found a place for itself in her abdomen. The silence the three of you sit in is thick, the phone's constant dial tone hum acting like white noise.

Jason dislodges the blade in her stomach from behind with little difficulty. The way she falls to the floor is inelegant, ugly, collapsing in on herself and desperate to stop the bleeding with her bare palms. You step over her to rest one of your hands on Jason's pectoral, looking back over your shoulder to watch her die.

"Please, please, please, please," she begged faintly, to no one in particular. "God, no, no, please," and she looked at you. Blood sputters out of her mouth as she comes to the realization of how severely she had been mislead.

"I don't understand," you note that she looked like shattered porcelain, once pretty, but now chipped and far beyond repair. Blood was eager to escape her body in what seemed to be pints at a time, akin to a broken faucet which refused to stop. "Please, I thought-"

"But you thought wrong though, didn't you? That's what you get for thinking."

Your voice is a weapon of its own, a sheathed one, just waiting for an opportunity to be used.

She's crying again now, the ugly thing. Softly, and the convulsions of her body that came with every gentle sob brought pain along with it. You stride over to her, and she looks at you, not Jason, seemingly refusing to break eye contact. You press a shoe against her leg, now sandwiched between you and the ground, and pressed against it - how hard would you have to press until it breaks?

“We make quite a team, the hunk and I, don’t we?”

"Please," again, but this time strained, voice breaking as she begs for the compassion you didn't have and refused to provide. The edges of her vision begin to fade away, tinting dark, though her hands still gripped at wound in her abdomen. "I just wanted to go home."

notes:

idk if you meant hunting animals or hunting people and i only realized that . you could have meant hunting animals once i got finished writing this lmaoo sadlasjd

#jason voorhees x reader #jason voorhees/reader #jason voorhees imagine #slasher imagines #slasher x reader #crystallake #jason voorhees

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zertzertzhang · 4 years

Text

Stand and Deliver: My Life Turned Upside Down CH.3

A/N: This is my first time writing on Tumblr, so please bear with me! I am usually active on FFNet and AO3, but since this fandom is basically nonexistent except for here, I thought maybe I could post my works for this movie here. The story is a fanfic based on the 1988 movie ‘Stand and Deliver’ starring Edward James Olmos, taking a deeper look into the lives of the impoverished students in East LA.

Eventual Angel/OC, and warnings of racial slurs with some physical violence.

Chapter Three: Living Skills

By the time she rolled into the second week of Garfield High, Vianne was sure she saw the school at its worst. Had she been honest with herself, she would’ve thought she was beginning to get used to the rioting students. It was a surprise that she became somewhat good at blocking the excess noise from them.

Hateful stares and whispered insults about her ethnicity waned as the week dragged on. The initial weariness she felt from the people around her dropped as she kept to herself. Call it paranoia or what, she could sense the heavy atmosphere boring onto her back as she passed the lockers. It was hard imagining a whole year of silence.

Vianne never saw herself as a quiet wallflower, but the situation at hand forced her mouth shut for far too long. The need to talk to someone had been building up since the day she arrived. If this was going to stretch out any longer, she could see herself talking to random objects within her peripheral vision. As if the students needed another excuse to deepen the ostracization. In her own way, Vianne was in solitary confinement.

Wait why do I need them?!

She shook her head, angry at her own slip up. There was no need for her to make any contact with people like that. Loneliness must've been a powerful force for her, for she now wanted communication from the very people set out to destroy her life. And it tore her dignity to shreds.

Biting the fleshy pulp of her lips, Vianne exhaled. There were still two more periods before she could jump into her car and drive home. Living Skills was next on her schedule, so she had to trudge across campus to her destination. The signs pointing to her class became clear as she neared the hallway.

With five minutes before the second bell, Vianne discovered the almost empty room. It was custom for things like that to happen. Usually, people were either late or scrambling in at the last second. To her, that was a blessing. Any area could be taken for her choosing.

She spotted Ana by the side near the windows. The bespectacled young woman turned her head to look at her when she arrived at the scene. A shy smile crossed Ana’s face, and she waved. Vianne quirked her lips in an awkward attempt to smile back.

Ana was friendly, not just to her. A pang of guilt vibrated along Vianne’s chest. She felt a bit extreme in condemning everyone in the school; at least Ana made an effort to make her feel welcomed. It was because of that Vianne didn’t pull out her hair during Math 1A, so she owed it to her.

“Hey.” A soft greeting slipped from Vianne as she approached the desk.

Ana shuffled some books to the side, creating space for her. “Hi! How was your lunch?”

Vianne sighed. “I’ve had better. The heat melted my sandwich.” She left out the part where she sat by herself for two whole weeks, not wanting to sound like some loser.

Her metaphor made Ana giggle lightly. It reminded her of the bells twinkling on the front door back in Napa; Vianne thought it to be rather calming. A breath of fresh air away from the screaming students was a surprising luxury around here.

“I know a place where there's an air conditioner,” Ana said. “You can come eat with me if you’d like.”

The invitation caught Vianne off guard, prompting her to nearly drop her pencil. Ana still held her hopeful smile, like a lost puppy. That and the desperation to find cold air sold the deal.

Vianne grinned. “That'd be great. I’ll catch you after math tomorrow.” A satisfied hum left her as she leaned against the chair. It was nice to have a lunch buddy.

It didn’t take long for the starting bell to ring. Mrs. Flores entered the class with a large trunk, followed by a hoard of people behind her. Everyone fought for a seat, breaking the calm atmosphere in seconds. Both Vianne and Ana resisted the urge to roll their eyes.

Mrs. Flores was a cheery plump woman in her sixties. Her floral dress was matched with a mint green camisole, making Vianne think of daisies and dandelions in a summer field. A pair of reading glasses perched on the bridge of her nose, giving her a jolly appearance of a librarian. Viane would reckon she’d keep a hidden stash of toffee under a desk somewhere for the children.

“Settle down, settle down!” The teacher’s chirpy voice broke through the crowd. “I have an announcement to make!”

An exasperated glance was thrown at them as Mrs. Flores shuffled to the front podium. Her arms came up, hands clasping together in enthusiastic excitement.

“I’m happy to introduce you all to our project of the semester,” she began. “There will be two parts, with each section worth fifty points. This will be a partnered assignment, so I expect you all to be friendly with one another.”

Mrs. Flores gave them another knowing look, as if to warn them against their funny business. A few students avoided her gaze, fidgeting sheepishly on the chairs. To the side, Vianne looked at Ana, motioning back and forth between them. Ana caught the drift and nodded; it would be best if they could choose who they wanted to work with.

It was still too early into the school year for Vianne to be comfortable with anyone on the premises, but Ana had been the only one to show acceptance. She’d take that over anything.

“Each pair will receive a doll.”

The next instruction baffled the class. Vianne stared on with wide eyes as Mrs. Flores took out a raggedy dummy from the trunk. It was a dress-up doll, with the color of its skin ashened by years of dust coupled with torn bits of its dress.

Mrs. Flores sighed with strange contentment as she continued. “This year, the health department wants us to learn how to be responsible adults. As we are nearing senior year, the closer you are all to adulthood. And one of the graduation requirements is to pass Living Skills.”

Vianne didn’t need to hear the rest of it. Playing make-believe house was one of the projects required in Sex Ed class back in Napa, only it was to be taken during senior year. It would appear that it was happening sooner for her. Praying to whatever deity that came to mind, she hoped that she was allowed to choose partners. There was no way she was going to be stuck with a haughty, nose-picking man-child.

“The fuck ma’am?!” Another shout rang from behind. “Who needs this?!”

A wave of murmurs agreed to his outcry, with some joining in. Mrs. Flores huffed, using her index finger to push up her glasses before glaring at the mass.

“If you want me to teach sex, then the right thing for me to do is to teach you the aftermath of it, too.” A light smile danced around her lips, a brow raised along with it. The boys’ cheeks flushed bright red at the comment, while the girls took a sudden interest in their books.

Vianne felt the same sentiment, her ears tingling with warm embarrassment. Mrs. Flores was a lot of things, and bluntness was one of them.

“Can we pick partners?” one of the girls asked.

Mrs. Flores shook her head. “I’ve already made my decision last night about the pairs.”

Vianne’s stomach twisted at the revelation; she was already having a shitty time adjusting to the new school, and now she had to deal with a hotheaded student who probably hated her guts. Dred pooled down her back, soaking her in fearful anticipation.

Before them, Mrs. Flores took out a sheet of paper. Her mouth moved to speak, but was interrupted when an ear-splitting crash came from the door. It sounded like a dense mass falling onto the lockers. All eyes turned to the source of the sound, Vianne included. Another bang followed the crash, before all was silent. She sucked in a breath.

With a crack, the door flew open, revealing none other than the very boy who made fun of her days before in Math 1A. It would appear that barging into class midway was his style of rolling.His eyes drooped in lazy discontent, and there was dust all over his bomber jacket. Upon closer inspection, Vianne could make out the beginnings of a bruise forming on the corners of his left eye.

Great. She shared another class with him, too. Oh goodie. Vianne was starting to believe that she was cursed before she stepped foot in LA. Or maybe she fucked up really bad in her past life. Because no one could have this much bad luck in one month. Mrs. Flores, on the other hand, seemed way too surprised at his grandiose entrance.

“Well, well, Mr. Angel Guzman,” she tutted. “It’s a pleasure to finally see you grace my class with your presence.” Sarcasm dripped from her voice as she stared him down, not bothering with formalities.

Angel rolled his eyes with a click of his tongue. Sauntering to the nearest desk, he slumped into the seat, angling his legs wide open. Without context, one might believe him to be a gangster boss overlooking his new crew. The relaxed stance in his posture gave away nothing about his mood, but the dark look in his eyes spoke for him.

If Mrs. Flores was miffed by his disposition, she didn’t show it. “Since you’ve expressed so much excitement for this assignment, I’ll give you the honor of knowing your partner first.”

Scanning the paper, her eyes landed on the very bottom of the list, and she spoke again. “You’ll be with Miss Yang over here for the project. Now, Adeline, you’re with Thomas. Ana, you’re with Daniel, Clarise-”

Vianne didn’t take in anything else other than the first sentence. Her ears rang, and she could see her soul departing her body for the heavens. This was the final nail on the coffin, pushing her over the edge of sanity. Her worst prediction had come true; she had the most deadbeat partner she could ever find in this school.

Her instincts had her look over in his direction. Angel’s gaze caught hers as she did so, however his face still held their impassive stare. Breaking contact, he moved to pull down his beanie again, shielding his eyes; he was preparing for a nap. Vianne groaned into her hands, earning a pity glance from Ana. It was the I’m-sorry-but-you’re-kinda-screwed look.

Mrs. Flores was still speaking, thus rattling Vianne back to reality. “-come up and grab your supplies! Please make a line and wait your turn.”

Half of the class rose and made a beeline for the trunk. Ana had already gathered hers and was now sitting by Daniel, leaving her alone. Angel was leaning against the chair like he was by the beach with his hands behind his head, and that told her more than she needed to hear. Vianne pursed her lips, hoisting her body from the desk.

The teacher smiled too brightly when she came up to collect her doll. “Congratulations! It’s a girl for you!”

Handing Vianne a bottle of cleaning solution and a hair brush, Mrs. Flores patted her with a good-natured smile. It made Vianne’s soul twist in its grave. She turned around with robotic stiffness, and headed back to Angel’s seat. The young man took no notice of her arrival, continuing to stew in his state of trance. A toothpick hung out from his mouth, giving more into the lazy fashion.

Shit. I’m going to carry us both. The grim thought crossed her mind, and she winced.

“Uh, we need to fill out the form.” Vianne pointed to the paper left by the teacher, snapping her fingers to get his attention. It was a fake birth certificate for the doll; Mrs. Flores was going above and beyond for the final project. Had it been under pleasant circumstances, Vianne would’ve given her kudos for her creativity.

Angel canted his view upwards, staring at her with mild curiosity. It was only then she noticed the deep set of eyes, with equally thick brows to match. His hands refused to leave his head, but his lips parted ever so slightly. Nothing came out of them.

Right. The guy never brings pencils. Realization hit her and she slumped onto the chair next to his. This is gonna be so fun.

As she tapped her pencil onto the paper, Vianne ignored the bouncing of his legs to the side. It was taking her attention away from thinking of a name for the doll. After another few minutes of awkward silence passed, she noticed they were the only pair that had almost zero progress on the first section.

Open your mouth and get him to talk, damn it!

Scowling, Vianne turned to the young delinquent, who was actually on the urge of falling asleep this time. Vexation burned her mind, and she shoved the paper to his side.

“Come up with a name,” she said. The sudden movement jerked him from his slumber, causing him to blink several times before his eyes settled back to hers with a glare. Vianne was not about to back down from a glance alone, so she crossed her arms, huffing at the dramatic display of resistance.

“I know you understand me.” The memory from last week was still fresh in her brain cache. “So come up with a name.”

At that, Angel smirked. “You’re the smart one. What ya need me for?”

Oh the little shithead.

Vianne returned the remark with a scowl of her own. “Believe me, I’d love to work by myself given the situation. But I’m not gonna carry you across the semester.” If the brat thought he was going to get an easy A because of her, then he had another thing coming.

Her hissy fit seemed to have gotten to him; his eyes narrowed while he bit down on the toothpick. “Puta, you’re so fucking annoying.”

“What did you just call me?!”

“Figure it out, smart one.” A lopsided grin appeared on his face, though it was miles away from friendly. His eyes flashed, almost like a warning. But like that would deter her.

She was about ready to slap the paper into his face when she remembered the way Escalante would handle him when he got up all over his ass. A slight smirk painted her lips as she thought of an idea; if he was going to be an ass, then she was going to be an ass back.

“Are you simply trying to hide your illiteracy?” Vianne asked, her voice filled with over-saturated innocence.

Angel nearly swallowed his toothpick. “What?” The stare he sent her screamed a thousand red flags, but she held a hand against her legs to keep them from shivering.

“Oh, y’know…” she began. “I thought coming up with names wouldn’t be too difficult. Seems like it is for you, though.”

The muscles of his jaws clenched, darkening his guise. Angel’s nostrils flared as he looked at the piece of paper before him. Vianne could practically see the gears turn in his head. They were in a classroom, so there was nothing extreme he could do even if he was pissed. The thought of trapping him between a rock and a hard place made her feel a little better after the previous taunts.

Just when she moved to retrieve the materials back, his hands slammed on the paper. She flinched at the action, but kept her eyes glued to the desk, not raising to meet his.

“Camilla.” His raspy hum sounded quietly in the background. Had Vianne been further away, she wouldn’t have caught it.

“What?” She peered up at him, opening her mouth to ask more, but he was already looking away.

“The name,” Angel said. “It’s Camilla.” He made it sound like he was talking to a five-year-old.

Vianne breathed a sigh of relief and took the pencil. She began to fill in the required information about their ‘daughter’. He still refused to write out his part, so she relented for now.

“Camilla Guzman it is then,” she spoke to herself.

Now it was Angel’s turn to be perplexed. “Camilla Guzman?” He stopped chewing the wooden stick in his mouth for a moment.

His partner scoffed from her seat. “Well, you’re the dad, Angel. Unless you want me to have full custody.” Vianne rolled her eyes at the thought of having a daughter at her age. Ms. Lin would have a heart attack and be driven to an early grave.

When she didn’t hear anything else from him, she feared her jokes flew over his head. Vianne raised her head just in time to catch a light smirk tugging at his face. Sensing no real threat, she went back to writing.

A clap from Mrs. Flores turned both their attentions to the front podium. The teacher had gathered everyone’s eyeballs towards herself, and she cleared her throat.

“Since class is coming to an end, I’d like to make sure everyone understands their part of the assignment.” She paused for a second, before taking out another batch of files. “One ‘parent’ takes care of the doll for a week, alternating with their partners over the course of the semester. By the end of each month, I’d like a report summarizing the difficulties of parenthood. The rubric is simple; if the doll ends up in tatters, or if it becomes lost, then you will be automatically given an ‘F’. Keeping your ‘children’ in pristine condition and well-clothed is the primary goal. That’s all for today. Now figure out who’s taking custody first.”

Vianne looked to Angel, and then back to their ‘daughter’. This was a tough cookie, and she wasn’t sure she trusted him with not losing the doll within the first few days.

“Rock papers,” Angel offered.

She wanted to guffaw at the suggestion, but logic told her it was a fair method. “Sure. Loser takes the kid.”

It turned out to be a horrible move on her part. No matter what kind of tricks she threw at him during the sparring, he either met her with the same level, or defeated her. If she used rock, he met her with paper. When she went for paper, he countered with scissors. At last, on the third try, she pulled a rock again, only to be faced with another rock from him.

Two loses and a tie; it was a no brainer who the kid went with for the first week. Angel sizzled with smug pride as he counted the points against her, his wicked grin broadening.

“Guess you’re not so smart after all.”

Oh fuck you. Vianne knew nothing good ever came out of that smirk. There was no guarantee he was going to show up after her week was up. For all she knew, Angel could easily ditch her for the rest of the year with the doll on her own. It wasn’t like he cared about his perfect track record. Her heart sank at the thought.

“You are coming back next week, right?” Skepticism laced her words as she eyed him.

Angel clicked his tongue, raising a brow. “Who knows?” It was the closest to an answer she would get from him. And it was not reassuring at all.

Vianne glared, hoping that by her looks alone, he would get the message. But her efforts were in vain. Angel soon reverted back to napping for the rest of the class, not wasting a second longer on her.

A/N: As per usual, shoutout to @classic80sand90smovieloves2 for encouraging and helping me get over writers block and whatnot ;)

And thank you to all my followers who happened upon this piece in the sea of posts here on tumblr :p I love y’all and hope I didn’t disappoint!

#stand and deliver #angel guzman #angel guzman imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #lou diamond phillips #edward james olmos #jaime escalante #stand and deliver headcanon #80s movie imagines #80s movies

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cuttingthe-painter · 4 years

Text

Cephin - Fae Boyfriend

Tumblr mobile deleted everything so I am reposting.

Hello everyone! This story is something I’ve been working on that is very person and special to me. Writing it has been incredibly hard, but has also helped me work through some of my own emotional struggles. I hope you enjoy!

Also my apologies for there being more story than romance in this fic, but I am working on part 2! let me know if you are interested in my posting it!

fae!boyfriend x human

tw: angst, mentions death, mentions suicide, grief ((please let me know if I missed any TWs and I will add them))

word count: 3315

The days seemed colder without her. Longer and darker and empty. Vivian had been heaven; no matter where she went, she radiated happiness and it was contagious. She was contagious. Her radiant smile, her airy laugh always able to bring you happiness when you couldn’t find it yourself. That’s what she did; she came into your life and taught you no bad situation is ever truly bad, there is always some good to be found. Maybe that’s why this was so hard. How could she help you find the good when she was the bad situation? When she was the reason you couldn’t leave your bed?

It’s been less than a week since you stood silently and watched as your best friend was lowered into the ground. Less than a week since you stood around Vivian’s grave with the small group of her friends and coworkers, not a family member in sight. You squeezed your eyes shut, letting hot tears fall across your face, soaking your pillow further. The funeral played through your memories, a nightmare that you couldn’t wake up from.

It had been beautiful out that day; warm rays blanketed your body while you stood graveside, as if the universe was taunting you. It was sticking its finger in your face and gloating about stealing the only light in your life. That day had been the only time the sun made an appearance during the last two weeks of rain. Was that a good omen or a cruel joke? A reminder that if you had just listened to her, had checked in on her, she would still be here?

You couldn’t cry at the funeral. You had stood there, listening to the quiet sobs around you, wondering why your own tears refused to fall. The pain in your chest had been so tight, so restricting, you thought it would cave in on itself. You couldn’t feel your legs as you walked forward to give the eulogy. You couldn’t feel your hands as you dropped a handful of dirt over the casket.

You stayed behind when everyone left, falling to your knees near the headstone. Cool granite scratched your fingers as you traced the words. In Loving Memory of Vivian Pacini, Your Light Will Shine Forever. You couldn’t breathe; the air had grown heavier the longer you read the words. Salty tears burned your eyes, rolling off your cheeks and falling to the loose ground beneath you. All you felt was pain constricting your heart and tears burning your eyes, punishing you for the light you let extinguish. You hung your head, folding into yourself as guttural sobs ripped through your body.

You don’t know how long you cried; the sun was setting when your tears ran dry. A crow sat in a tree a few plots down from you, cawing loud enough to echo through the cemetery. You watched it. Watched as its body tensed with each cry, as if it also felt your pain. It stopped its harsh cries and tilted its head in your direction before flying off. You stood, taking that as your sign to leave, and went home to your bed.

You’ve been here ever since, only leaving your bed to take care of your basic needs. Your phone rarely lit up the past few days. Work only called a few times, but you let it ring to voicemail each time. Vivian was the only one whose calls you wanted to answer. Whose texts you wanted to read. You sat up and grabbed your phone , looking at the time. 11:30 am, Wednesday. Wednesday. Wednesday. She died last Wednesday.

You both met every Wednesday for lunch; a ritual you had shared for years. Neither of you had missed a single Wednesday lunch since you first met. They were sacred, a pillar of your friendship. Last Wednesday had been the one and only time Vivian had asked to cancel. She wouldn't tell you why and you were mad.

Your phone had lit up, Vivian’s name flashing across the screen. You were huddled under your umbrella, trudging through the relentless downpour towards the cafe you both always met at. You stepped to the side, taking momentary shelter under an entryway, and answered.

“Hey Viv! What’s up?” you asked, yelling over the sounds of the street. You couldn’t hear much through the phone besides Vivian’s breathing.

“Hey,” Vivian greeted, an emotion you couldn’t place dominating her tone. “I was calling to ask if we could maybe take a rain check for this week's lunch?”

“A rain check? I’m already almost there,” you griped, “we’re supposed to meet in 10 minutes, Viv!”

“I know, I know. But something came up.” You interrupted her with a heavy, exaggerated sigh. She hesitated before continuing, “Look, I know it's inconvenient, but I need you to understand. It’s important.” Anger and confusion battled in you, fighting over who would get to make an appearance on the call. You took a moment before blowing out a slow breath to steady yourself. She asked you to understand. She said it’s important. But it’s Wednesday.

“We don’t cancel Wednesdays, Viv,” you stated, voice even and firm. “What’s more important than our Wednesdays?” She was silent; only static came through the phone for a long minute.

“I can’t tell you, not yet. I’m just asking you to understand,” she pleaded, her voice quick and desperate. She cleared her throat when she stopped talking and the line went silent again. Maybe she was sick? She doesn’t get sick often, but that might be why she’s canceling?

“Are you sick? I can get food to go and head to your- “

“No,” she snapped. It seems that she was the angry one now, even though she was the one canceling Wednesday lunch. “I’m not coming. You can either choose to understand or be angry. But I’m not coming and you aren’t coming here.” Your anger beat confusion in the battle and sent heat through your body, burning your cheeks and ears.

“Fine!” You snapped, “Just ruin our Wednesday, whatever. I hope you have fun doing whatever it is that’s more important than our lunch.” You knew you were being unreasonable; she had asked nicely to begin with and swore it was important. You just can’t understand why she can’t tell you. Is she spending the day with someone else? A new friend who outranked you? You yanked the phone away from your ear, ready to hang up.

“I love you.” You barely heard her say it before you clicked end. She sounded how you felt, broken and rejected. You wanted to call her back and apologize, but you couldn’t swallow your pride. It was rare for you two to fight and whenever it did happen, it was over almost immediately after it started. You typed a quick ‘I love you but I’m still mad at you’ text and sent it to her before putting your phone up and walking back to your apartment. If only you had gone to hers.

You pull yourself from the memory and stand; you weren’t going to let yourself miss another Wednesday. You might get there late, but dammit, you were going to get there. You pull on a pair of jeans from the floor and a hoodie draped over your desk chair. In the kitchen, you packed a quick lunch. With a sandwich, chips, and water packed in a bag, you walk out the door and towards the cemetery.

A crow sits perched on a tree guard in front of your apartment building. Its head tilts to the side, watching you walk down the stairs. You hesitate on the last step and stare at the crow, thinking back to the one that had been watching you at Viv’s funeral. The crow’s body shakes with a hoarse coo, pulling you from your memories. You smile at the bird and continue down the sidewalk. As you reach the end of the road and turn, you hear wings flapping behind you. The crow breezes past your head and lands on a lamppost up ahead, its eyes fixed on you once again.

It continues like this the rest of the walk to the cemetery; every time you are nearly out of the bird’s line of sight, it flies ahead and watches the next portion of your walk. Once in the cemetery, you sit next to Vivian’s headstone and watch as the crow settles onto the same branch where you first saw it. While its constant gaze on you was unusual, it filled you with an odd sense of comfort.

The ground beneath you was damp and you felt the wetness seep through the seat of your jeans. If you had been thinking, you would have brought a blanket to sit on. But you weren’t thinking. All you knew is that it was Wednesday and you were late for your weekly lunch. You pull your sandwich out and sigh shakily. All you want is to hear her voice again. To hear her bubbly laughter. To see her sitting across from you with that vibrant smile across her face. That vibrant smile that had been so fake. How long had she been faking it? Hiding how she really felt behind that screen of happiness?

Grief clenches its wicked hand over your throat as anger burns your eyes. How could you not have known? You knew her better than you had known yourself. Or so you had thought. That liquid rage burns down your cheeks, falling to the earth that blanketed your best friend. In the distance, a gravely caw sounds and pulls your attention to the tree. The crow stills when your gaze lands on it. Somehow, when you and the crow look at each other, you don’t feel quite as alone.

You look down to your sandwich and pick at the bread, tossing it in the direction of the tree. The crumbs don’t land as far from you as you want, but the crow doesn’t seem to mind. It jumps from the branch and flies down to the bread, only a few feet away from you. It watches you cautiously as it pecks at the crumbs. You eat your sandwich as the bird works at the crumbs. When the bird finishes eating, you expect it to fly away. To your surprise, it just settles down into the grass and watches you more.

Your new crow friend sits there the whole afternoon. It doesn’t move when others walk past the site. It doesn’t move when your sorrowful whispers to Vivian turn to inconsolable sobs. It only moved to fly alongside you when you began to journey home. Every following Wednesday when you went to have lunch with Vivian, the crow was outside your apartment waiting to join you.

You wake in a cold sweat one night, images of your dream still flashing through your head. Vivian throwing her head back in a loud laugh. Vivian sprawled on her living room floor. Vivian’s whispering to you, eyes full of mischief. Vivian’s empty eyes staring at you as you push through her front door. Vivian furiously scribbling a note in your seminar before folding it and passing it to you. An envelope propped up on Vivian’s living room table, your name written across it.

You ran from your bed, dropping to your knees in the bathroom and spilling the contents of your stomach out into the toilet. When you’re finally done heaving, you wipe your mouth before standing and brushing your teeth. The images continue replaying in your head, taunting you. Reminding you that you were supposed to help her. To save her. And you didn’t. The unopened envelope pushes to the forefront of your mind now. You stalk to the kitchen and grab it off the counter holding it furiously in front of you. You glare at it, wishing your gaze could set fire to the damn thing.

Why did she have to write you a letter? Why couldn’t she have just talked to you? Told you how she felt to your face? Maybe then it would have felt easier to forgive her. To forgive yourself. You didn’t want to read this alone. You wanted her here with you, comforting you through it. Before you could think, you were pulling on shoes and a jacket before rushing out the door.

The streets were empty at night. There were no sounds of passing cars or chatting friends to distract you on your walk. There was no crow joining you, guarding you, on your walk. The cemetery was dark, the lampposts that were there were scattered and didn’t cover the whole area. You don’t need light to find her grave, the path to it was engraved in your memory. You let yourself crumple when you made it to her, your knees sinking into the soft earth and head hanging forward.

“Why did you have to do this?” you sobbed. “I just want you back. I just want to be able to forgive you.” You know it's time to read her letter. You know that, yet you can’t bring yourself to tear it open. To pull it out and unfold it. Minutes pass before your shaking hands begin tearing open the envelope. You pull out the letter and almost choke when the smell of roses wafts up to you. Of course it had to smell like her. You blink away the threat of fresh tears before you start reading.

To my best friend-

I’m so very sorry. Please know that what I’ve done had nothing to do with you. I’ve always felt so empty. So cold. I can’t take it anymore. I hope you know how much I love you. Please forgive me.

Viv

Tears dripped from your cheeks, staining the page smudging the ink. She had written so little, yet it was enough to crack your heart. To shatter it into a thousand little pieces. How had you never known? How had you not been able to see behind her facade? Your body trembled, silent sobs ripping through you. A familiar cooing wasn’t enough to stop the sobs, but had you looking up to find where your friend sat.

The crow dove from the tree, gliding towards you. Its wings began to extend, smoking out from its body. Curling through the air around it. The jet black smoke continued coiling, spreading out until all you saw was an opaque, inky cloud in front of you. Without thinking, you extend your hand to touch it. It was too far away but you need to touch it. To know you weren’t losing your mind. You lean forward, extending your fingers as far as you can. A pale gray hand reaches out towards your own, its cool fingers grazing against your skin. You instantly recoil, clutching your hand to your chest while trying to steady your breathing.

“Please don’t be afraid,” a gravelly voice murmured from the dark cloud. The smoke began to retreat into itself, forming into a crouched figure. Before you knelt a man. Or what appeared to be a man. His pale, gray skin was contrasted by his dark, ornate clothes and a cloak that blanketed around him. Long arms were pulled tightly into his figure, one still reaching forward to you. His face was sharp, all angles, framed by black hair that fell to his shoulders. You have to remind yourself to breathe when you look into his eyes. Pitch black eyes stared back at you. Eyes that you had been staring at for months.

“That’s impossible,” you choke out, frozen in place as he slowly moves to you.

“Maybe so,” he whispered. “I suppose it is not common for your world.” Your world? What does he mean your world?

“Who are you? What are you?” you manage to ask, watching as his hands settle onto his lap. He was less than a foot away from you now, close enough for you to reach out and touch.

“My name is Cephin.��

“Why are you here, Cephin,” you demand, anger and impatience building up in your chest. A soft smile settles on his as he watches you.

“I am a guide. A caretaker.”

“What does that mean? How does that explain why you’re here?” His short answers were wearing your patience thin. How dare he interrupt you now? When you were so close to understanding why Vivian was gone?

“I take care of those who are broken. Those who are lost. Those who are ready to leave your world and step into mine. I was here to guide your dear friend. I had finished and was ready to take my leave but I saw that you needed guidance just as much as your friend.”

“I don’t want to die,” you rushed you, falling backwards and scooting away from him.

Your hands slipped on the dewy ground and fell out from under you; the ground connecting with your back knocked the air from your lungs. Cephin moved forwards to lean over you, a look of understanding set on his face.

“I know this, my dear. But you want to understand. I can help you.” His smile was so warm, so welcoming. He reached out, offering you a hand. You grabbed it, noting how cool his skin was against yours. When you were sitting, he pulled his hand from your grasp.

“How?” you asked, defeated. “Can you bring her back? Can you send me back in time so I can stop her?”

“No.” He shook his head, his eyes never leaving yours. “But I can explain to you how everything works. I can show you that you have done nothing wrong. I can show you her. Show you that she is okay. Death is inevitable, my dear, and nothing you could have done would have prevented this outcome.” You believed him. You don’t know how, but you knew he was telling you the truth.

“Show me then.” He gave a curt nod before moving closer to cup your face in his hands. The moment his palms connected with your face, everything went cold, as if life itself drained from your body. Behind him, the world fell away and was replaced by darkness. You never broke your gaze, his dark eyes being the only thing reminding you this was real. That you are real. And then you heard it. An excited, breathy voice followed by bubbly laughter that made your heart wrench.

“Look,” Cephin whispered, turning your face with his hands. You saw Vivian, sitting with a man made of sunshine. He resembled Cephin in build, but was his opposite in all other aspects. Dark, honey skin complimented by flowy white robes and long russet hair fell down his spine. Glowing white eyes stared at Vivian, who held his hand in her own. Cephin turned your face back to his too soon. You tried to look back to Viv, but he held your face firmly. The world he showed you slipped away and you were back in the quiet cemetery.

“Was that real?” you whispered, grabbing his hands with your own.

“It was,” he assured. His hands adjusted around yours, lacing your fingers together.“That is my world. You see, there are some people who were not made for this world. They never feel as if they fit in with this life. So then we come and we guide them to the world they belong in. “

“But what about me? Life hurts without her; it is so cold and lonely. My heart is broken, Cephin.”

“Then we fix it.” He brought your joined hands to his mouth, placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

“How do you fix something you can’t touch?” He stopped, pressing kisses to your hand, and looked up to you, a sad smile on his lips.

“I am not sure, but we will find a way."

[ let me know if you are interested in a Part 2!]

#fae boyfriend #exophilia #exophile #monster boyfriend #fae x reader #monster x reader #angst #coping with grief #grief #tw: death #tw: suicide #tw: mentions of death #tw: mentions of suicide #monster lover #my writing #long fic #my fic

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