#hes so gross and sickly | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

inkyray · 30 days

Note

your sick matt fic was so good!! can u make a part 2 sorta (or not) where hes finally recovered but now his gf gets sick and he has to take care of her?

a/n: got to writing immediately i fear

content ahead/warnings: sick!reader x matt sturniolo, vomiting, fluff, not proof read lol, other shit idk

part 2 to this

TOLD U SO

A rush of utter heat wraps you whole, and you feel unconsciously frustrated as you twist and turn from out of Matt's grasp. Hoping for some sort of light and feathery breeze to hit your sleeping body.

You subconsciously begin whining in your sleep, the feeling of only hot and thick air doing nothing to cleanse your body, your nose stuffing itself from a simple sniff of air. You raise a few fingers to rub your still-closed eyes together, meeting directly with your burning sticky skin. Your unreasonably high body temperature sends a quick shock through your body, still rubbing your eyes.

"You all right, baby?" Matt shifted to his side, his voice low, gravelly, and husk. Without even considering your options, you immediately shake your head no. His large hands make their way to your forehead, and he feels himself getting upset. "You're burning hot, sweetheart."

If you were half asleep before, you were now just opening your eyes. An undeniable wave of physical exhaustion punching you in every bone of your body. "I told you, we shouldn't have kissed. You were too close to me the entire night, I knew you'd get sick too." He huffs, stressed out for you, his hands pressing the hair that stuck to your face due to accumulated sweat out of the way. You frown deep.

"You got me sick." You point out, your soft voice matching his with its roughness crackles, you feel your sore throat form almost immediately and you wince. "No, you're the one who kept wanting to kiss me and rub all up on me." He shrugged in defense and you can't argue with that.

"As long as I get to kiss you some more today."

He chuckles, able to get up from the spot on the bed and head for his bathroom. "You're unbelievable, kid."

Your eyes dart to the sound of the running bathroom sink and the gross sloth feeling of continuing to lay in this bed any longer. As soon as you were back to normal, you would be deep cleaning this room front to back. You stiffen, making up the mental courage to lift yourself out of the bed.

Lifting your head up first, a wave of utter wonkiness punches you in the face, your head feels like it is spinning in your mind. The migraine was forming now, but you forced yourself to focus on the task at hand, making it to the bathroom.

You mentally feel the strength of your legs and thighs even when still laying on the bed, and then you look at the ground. You huff a whine, your body too hot for your skin. "Matt." You call for him, he answers immediately with a "You okay, sweetheart?", the sound of foam and a toothbrush in his mouth.

"Help me make it to the bathroom." You murmur, softly peeling the blankets from off of you. Matt walks back in, and in seconds he scoops you up. With a hand under both your knees for support and a large hand on your back, he takes you to the bathroom as you yelp at the sudden action. You figured the soup you made him last night definitely helped.

"Feeling better, hm?" You mutter, holding onto his neck for better support. He turns his head to look at you, kissing your lips with a long peck before kissing your neck, you get a mild taste of toothpaste in your mouth, scrunching up your nose. "Enough, Matt. Or you'll get sick again." You warn as he places you to sit on the bathroom counter.

"Then it'll be a cute never-ending cycle of us getting really sick and kissing each other." He said it like he was fond of the idea, looking at you then himself at the mirror, going back to brushing his teeth.

"Not a good thing." You point out, turning your back to stare at your reflection. You looked bedridden, your hair a messy bunch and your skin sickly flushed. "You look gorgeous though, so that's a plus." He rinses out his mouth, bending down to the height of the sink as you take the opportunity to run your hands through his knotted hair, fixing it for him.

He stands back up again, turning to look at the shower before back at you. You raise a tired eyebrow. "You think I should try for a shower? I feel disgusting and I think I've recovered enough to take one." He looks for your opinion on his question and you offer him a lazy shrug. "You're an able adult with a mind of your own."

"Yeah, but, I need to know what you think." He stands in between your legs, resting his hands on both your thighs. "Whenever I do something without your approval, I always regret it." You can't help it, you kiss him again. "Take a shower." You pull away and he grins. "But make sure you dry your hair really well."

"I know, I know." He winks, taking off his shirt as you drop to your feet. The sudden weight against the floor is a lot for your feeble sick body, you use the counter to lean on for help, before your knees buckle and have you fall. "Careful!" Matt urges, his eyes widening and a quick hand holding you still by the waist. You offer a smile. "I'm okay."

You turn the sink on, splattering your face with cold water. The temperature difference being so ultimate, it has you squeeze your eyes shut and take it all in for a moment. Washing your face, you hear the shower faucet turn on and Matt enters it from beside you.

"Make sure the water is hot on your skin!" You yell over the clattering water from the shower, making sure he heard you. You were always bossing Matt around like a mother, being an older sister definitely taking a load onto your personality. You dry your face, going in to brush your teeth now, hearing Matt turn the faucet as steam begins to form around him.

"Not too hot, Matt."

"I'm not into the whole idea of accidental suicide, so don't worry about that." He says over the water.

"You can't die from that." You correct, putting a strand of hair behind your ear.

"God, even when you're sick."

You chuckle, giving Matt an opportunity to close his eyes under that hot water and let your laugh melt through his ears.

"I'm gonna take a piss." You announce, rinsing your mouth out and peeling your pants down to your thighs as you sit on the toilet.

"You better not fucking flush." He ordered, making sure you heard the warning in his voice.

You wiped, getting back up and flushing, darting out of the bathroom. You laugh at the sound of Matt screaming your name due to the sudden temperature change of water until sudden dizziness takes over your sight and mind. For a full second, your vision blurry so bad you genuinely couldn't see anything as your head spins in circles like a basketball.

"Fuck." You gasp, dropping yourself onto the unmade bed you and Matt slept in, trying to get your mind back together.

Not even a whole 10 minutes pass and Matt was out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel as he searched for you, seeing you dead asleep on his bed. Just then realization dawns upon him that today he'll need to look after you, the same you had. Any feeling of playful irritation left him and he was now changing into his clothes, his blue eyes on you as he tried to figure out how you took care of him so he could repeat that action.

Medicine.. Soup. Soup. He wondered if there was any left. Finishing putting his clothes on, he shuts the door quietly behind him, not wanting to wake you up. The environment around him definitely made it obvious that Chris and Nick were awake, seeing them seated in the kitchen.

"Matt!" Chris happily calls, seeing him much better than yesterday. He smiles, taking a seat at the table as he watches Nick cook up breakfast. "Are you feeling any better?" Nick asks, putting sausage on a plate. "Yeah, all thanks to her," Matt points to the direction of his room where you're sleeping. "But at what cost." He sighed, feeling the guilt of getting you sick.

"What? She got sick too?" Chris wonders and Nick frowns. "Aw fuck."

"Yeah. She worked so hard yesterday, too. I feel so bad." Matt sighs, grabbing onto the fork Nick handed him and taking a quick bite from the breakfast. It wasn't your cooking, the flavor dull in his mouth as he chewed it down. The sound of murmured worries erupt from his brothers. "Whatever, is there any of the soup she made left?"

Chris almost jumps at the mention of the soup. "Dude, did you try it? It was so fucking good."

"Yeah. She made it for me. Is there any of it left?" Matt repeats himself, Nick shakes his head. "Nah, fucking Chris over here finished it all." Matt turns to glare at his brother.

"What?"

"You don't even like soup."

"Your girlfriend's soup doesn't count though, you've seen the way she cooks."

He was right, Matt couldn't argue with that.

Almost the entire day had passed and you had practically nothing in your stomach. Matt had tried anything, but your feverish appetite kept you from swallowing anything down. You claimed the food was either under seasoned, not cooked well enough, too cold, and more. Matt had gone out with Nick to the store to buy you pre-cooked meals, but the thing with you, you can smell if something isn't homemade from a mile away.

He holds the spoon of rice to your mouth, but you twist your head the other way, refusing to eat it. "Please, baby, come on." He begs, "You need to eat, you have to have food in your system so you could take the medicine."

You huff, shuffling under his blankets, looking for something. "I'll just take the medicine now."

He clicks his tongue, signifying no. "Nope, you will eat this whether you like it or not." He holds your hands down to shove the spoon in your mouth, but your head dodges it immediately, turning the other way. He groans your name, you stick your tongue out.

"I'm not eating that shit."

"Yes, you are." He grabs ahold of your jaw, locking it in place as his separate hand shoves the rice in your mouth. "Chew." He holds your jaw tight, closing it for you, knowing you were gonna spit it out. You furrow your eyebrows, glaring at him as you chew.

His grip on you loosens and drops his hand when he's certain you won't spit it out. Wrong move. You spit the rice out immediately onto the plate. He yells your name before accepting his defeat. "You have to eat, or else you'll throw up, stupid." He grumbled after a little while.

"Nah, I won't."

Was being completely and utterly stupid a part of sick symptoms?

You were snuggled up onto Matt's side, watching a movie on his laptop, sneezing and coughing in every direction but his, determined not to get him sick again. Even if that meant you're getting his entire room contaminated. His hand was met with your bare skin that your big shirt failed to cover, his palm sneaking into your shirt and rubbing your hot skin up and down for some sort of comfort.

Now, what made you stupid, was that you still took the medicine. And halfway through the movie, your stomach starts churning. Your eyes widen at the sudden clench of your stomach and you jump up, immediately heading for the bathroom as Matt's hand disappears from your side. Bending down to the toilet, Matt jumps to his feet and follows you inside and you immediately start gagging into the toilet.

You throw up an empty stomach, which hurts more. Matt worriedly holds your hair back as another hand rubs your back, understanding quickly what was happening. You gag, everything you consumed the other day clears its way out of your body. Matt winces behind you, determined to keep your hair out of the way as he watches the pained look on your face.

The feeling chimes down, and you stand back up, dizzier than you were before, with Matt still using his hands for a make-shift ponytail before dropping it down. You feel yourself almost fall, grabbing onto his forearms for support, taking a few steps toward the sink.

Rinsing your mouth, Matt speaks, "Is it too soon to say I told you so?"

You decide to wash your face, too. "Shut up, bitch." He chuckled nervously from behind you. You felt disgusting and exhausted. "I need a shower." You mutter, rubbing your eyes as sick tiredness gets to you again.

"Not today!" He declares, motioning you back into the bedroom. "I feel so sweaty and gross." You mumbled, leaning on him, not really wanting to use any effort for yourself after that god awful vomit experience. He notices, preferring to pick you up than have you walk on your own.

"I could get you a new set of clothes?" He suggests instead, laying you back onto his bed. "Mmm." You hum in approval, laying fully on your back, too tired to even speak anymore. You felt worse than you did in the morning.

He grabs some folded clothes, all of which belonged to him as he looks back at you. Your eyes were closed, your breathing out of order as you tried to steady it again. You feel both of Matt's thumbs hook around each side of your waistband before slowly shoving them down, his cold fingertips brushing against your burning hot body. Taking the pants off you, he takes one of your legs and puts it in the leg hole of sweatpants that belonged to him, repeating the action on the other leg before pulling it past your thighs and to your hips. He ties the strings around your waist so it wouldn't fall off you.

"Thank you, Matt." You slur, barely able to open your eyes again as your mind begins going blank. "Anything for you, love." He softly takes your shirt off of your head as you lift your arms up lazily for some sort of help. Matt grins at your lazy action, putting a graphic t-shirt over your head. You seemed completely out of it, so he puts your arms through the holes for you, making sure your stomach is fully covered. "Sleepy, huh?" He says more to himself than you.

A small part of your mind hadn't completely fallen asleep, your ears picking up on it but not registering what he'd said, humming in response to make it seem like you were still awake. Matt fixes your position on the bed. It was only 8:00 PM at night, and he still needed to film a car video in a few hours. He knew exactly what he would bring up.

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larueluvr · 4 months

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Hands off

Clarisse La Rue x Fem! daughter of demeter!reader

Warnings: Sexual harassment, some gross boy, unwanted touch, swearing, some fluff near the end, petnames, established relationship between Clarisse and read- implied to have been dating for a while, I think thats all but let me know if I missed anything :)

Apologies in advance to anybody named Jackson 🙏🏼

It's pretty short cause this is my first time writing in Tumblr

You and Clarisse had a perfect contrast of personalities. You were know as the counselor of the Demeter cabin: kind, collected, and gentle. Clarisse, on the other hand, was regarded by several campers as temperamental and mean. She'd never been like that with you, though. Sure you'd seen that side of her in some situations, but it'd never been directed at you. To her, you were an angel. A queen. And she'd rather every person in that camp think of her as some aggressive bully before she'd ever let anyone treat you otherwise.

You and Clarisse had met up for the camp bonfire not long ago: maybe 30 minutes or so before she'd been asked by a younger camper of Ares cabin for some help, begrudgingly leaving the space beside you empty and promising to be back quick.

After a few minutes by yourself, you heard footsteps trailing up behind you. The person stepped over the log you were sat on and you turned your head to see a boy you weren't sure you'd met before sitting a bit too close for your comfort. He was tall, decently bigger than you, with muscles and long-ish wavy brown hair which you honestly doubted had been washed in a few days.

"Jackson. Cabin 12" he introduced himself. Dionysus. You figured that explained the smirk of false confidence he wore as he rested a hand on your knee. "Im-" "I know who you are" he cuts you off. Your face contorted into a strange mix of a frown and grimace. "You're y/n. I've had my eye on you." His smile as he says this seemed as though it were meant to charm you, though that paired with what he said only gave you an uneasy feeling as you lifted his hand off your knee and promptly dropped it.

"Actually I was gonna say I'm seeing someone" you reply shortly. He chuckles, less humor to it though as it seems more mocking than anything, moving his hand back to your knee with more force to it this time, and his other taking your hand in his. "And I'm sure that 'someone' couldn't possibly make you feel as good as I can."

"She actually-" him cutting you off was starting to seriously piss you off, as well as this frankly disgusting hand placement. "She? Oh you're way too pretty to be gay, princess. Maybe you just need the right guy. Y'know, if you gave me a chance I could be that for you." You made another attempt to pull your hand from his and remove his other off your knee, ultimately failing due to the force he used.

"Don't call me that. And get the hell off me" you say harshly, pushing against his arm as his hand travels the tiniest bit up from your knee. "Just let me prove it to you" he says with sickly flirty tone.

Before you could respond, you saw a familiar figure speed past you and to the boy sat beside you. His touch was removed in an instant as he was lifted from his seat and held by his shirt as your girlfriend stood angrily Infront of him, everyone's gaze falling upon the scene unfolding. "Get your hands off of her before you fucking lose them" she says loudly, shoving him onto the ground and watching with a sadistic smirk as she watches him scamper off weakly, having lost every ounce of that confident facade he'd worn just moment ago.

Looking away, she saw the eyes on you both and she knew the affect it'd have on you. "What!?" She shouts, resulting in each and every person returning to (or at least pretending to) do what they had been doing.

The second she turned back to you she saw that look on your face that she knew all to well. She walked over and placed a hand on your back as she lead you away and back to your cabin where it could just be you two since everyone was out at the bonfire or wandering camp.

The second that door shut your arms were wrapped around her, head in the crook of her neck, yet you stayed silent. "You're okay. I got you," she assures as her arms wrap around your waist. She may not have been the best at comforting people but she'd picked some stuff up from you not only watching you with the younger campers in your cabin, but from you comforting her. In a way, you'd softened her. Unsurprisingly, you were the only one who got to see that side of her. You sigh, and she combs her fingers through your hair the way you always did for her.

"Thank you," you whisper softly. "It's my job," she says playfully "as your awesome, amazing, totally hot girlfriend that could, and does, treat you about a million times better than that asshole ever could." You move your head from her shoulder and look up at her with a soft smile as her hands rest on your waist and yours on her shoulders.

"You're an idiot." "think I remember you calling me your idiot, mama." she teases as she lifts your hand and presses a delicate kiss to the back of it.

#riodanverse #pjo x reader #percy jackson x reader #clarisse la rue #clarisse pjo #clarisse x reader #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x fem!reader #pjo books #pjo tv show #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson series #clarisse la rue fluff

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laiiaaa · 9 months

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thinking abt what Carmen would do if his gf’s feeling insecure…i’m so sappy rn this was rly self-indulgent :(

You walk into the bathroom while Carmen’s brushing his teeth, sweatpants hanging low on his hips and triceps flexing as he leans into the counter. You take gentle hold of his arm and press a kiss to his shoulder.

With the toothbrush still in his mouth, he mumbles, “Hey, baby,” before leaning over and spitting into the sink. He turns on the faucet, bends over to rinse his mouth, and relishes in the feeling of your hand rubbing up his back. “You want anything special for dinner tonight?” He makes eye contact with you through the reflection in the mirror. “I’m stoppin’ by for groceries later, I’ll pick up the ingredients for whatever ya want.”

You hum. “No, it’s okay…”

“O-Okay.” His brows furrow for a moment but he moves on, splashing his face and going about his routine.

“Do you know how much longer you’ll be?”

“Uhhhm…” He laughs into his hands and dries his face before turning to look at you face to face. “Like, five minutes? Why?”

“It’s nothing, I just wanna take a shower, ‘s all.” You’re still holding onto him, but your eyes dart away when you speak to him.

“Oh.” He pauses. “Am I in your way?”

You shake your head and smile. “No, why?”

“It’s just—you can get in the shower now, if you want. If you’re in a rush.”

“I’m not.”

“Then why d’you want me outta here?”

“Carm,” you start, a hushed voice, “I have to take my clothes off…”

He pauses again, looks you in the eye with a confused expression, stopping what he’s doing to face you with his whole body, his hands resting on the backs of your arms. “Is somethin’ wrong? Did I do somethin’?”

“No.” Your tone is light enough to keep him confused.

“You jus’ want me to head out for a few?”

You nod slowly. “I just…want some privacy.”

“Oh.” He pouts. “Okay.” His thumbs brush tenderly along your skin, and he presses a kiss to your forehead. “You feelin’ okay, baby?” He’s using that tone—the one that’s sickly sweet and doting, the one that has your knees weak and brain turning to mush. “You don’t want me t’see you?”

“Not right now, ‘m sorry—”

“Hey, it’s—it’s okay.” Another gentle kiss against your forehead. “Do you—is there…” He struggles for the right question. “Could you tell me why, at least?”

You try to push away from his hold. “It’s embarrassing, Carm—”

“Uh-uh—” He shakes his head and pulls your right back. “No it’s not, baby, you can tell me.”

“Just forget about it, it’s stupid—”

He brings a hand to your jaw and holds it firm so you can’t turn away. “Hey.”

Tears start pooling in your eyes, and you keep your gaze away from his as your lip quivers.

“C’mon, talk to me, baby.” His free hand smooths over your hair, brushing it away from your forehead. “What’s got you all worked up, hm?”

“I just…” Your throat becomes sore, and a few stray tears spill from the corners of your eyes, quickly brushed away by Carmen’s callused fingertips. “I just don’t look good right now…”

“What’s that? You don’t look good?” His eyes dart from your bleary eyes to your streams of tears to your shaky lips, and his heart shatters. “Baby—”

“I told you it was stupid—” Your voice cracks when you say it.

“Oh, c’mere…” Carmen pulls you into his chest, offering a lighthearted scoff as he takes in your words. His arms wrap snug around you, one hand smoothing up and down your back while the other stays at the back of your neck, the fingers scratching your scalp gently as he holds you close. “You’re so beautiful, baby, don’t say stuff like that…”

“I just feel gross, Carmen, ‘m sorry…”

He squeezes you a little tighter, takes a deep breath to keep himself from shedding any tears of his own. “Shhh, don’t apologize, you’re okay…you’re okay…” Pressing kisses into the crook of your neck, he repeats those words as his mantra: You’re so beautiful, you’re okay, you’re so perfect, baby, it’s okay…

In his arms like this, it doesn’t take long to calm down again; his hands and arms soothe you, and what’s more is the fact that Carmen of all people—as stubborn as he is about verbalizing everything—keeps his voice a soft coo as he pulls you back out of your worries. When he feels your breathing slow and your chest have a steady rise and fall, he loosens his grip to see your face.

You pout up at him still.

“Baby…” He kisses you anyway. “You’re so beautiful, c’mon.” His hands come to hold your face tenderly, thumbs brushing along your cheekbones to rid them of those damned tears.

“You’re just saying that because you have to.”

He laughs at that, a smile blossoms on his face to show dimples as his head reads back. “ ‘Cause I have to? You’re goin’ crazy, y’know that, right?”

“Stop it.” You try to pout, and your mind still aches with insecurity, but your cheeks still begin to flex with a bit of a sappy grin.

“Uh-uh, you’re so fuckin’ gorgeous, baby.” He peppers kisses all over your face, gentle and slow and delicate the way he always takes care of you. “ ‘N you’re all mine…so, so pretty, I’m so lucky to be with you…”

“Stop it, Carmy,” you whine, giggling against his lips all the same when he takes yours in a kiss. “Okay, I get it, I get it.”

One more kiss for the hell of it, one that has you pulling him a little closer as your knees turn wobbly, one that has him smiling into your mouth and wondering how he ended up with you, ending with his forehead resting against yours.

“I love you, okay?” he whispers, and even though it’s not typical of him to say it first, in his chest he knows he should.

You nod, and all his praise makes your head swim. “I know. I love you.”

“And, uh, I can—” he clears his throat— “I can still get outta here if you want me to—? Make you breakfast while you shower, yeah?" A hand runs down to your waist. "I want you to be comfortable.”

“Actually—” you loop your arms around his neck— “I was thinking…you could keep me company?”

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile so wide, jaw slack and brows raised. “Yeah?”

“Mhmmm…it’ll make me comfortable…”

And he does exactly that: keeps you comfortable and in the moment, undresses you slowly, worships every part of you with kisses and with high praise. He handles you gently and with so much adoration running through his veins that by the time he’s done with you, dressing you and serving you your breakfast with a peck to your cheek, you don’t have to think twice about how much he loves you.

#carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #jeremy allen white #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto x you #carmy x reader #the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu #the bear x reader #the bear season 2

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haetrack · 2 months

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omg now im thinking of perv!haech whos ur best friend but ur just a pretty bimbo ! completely clueless to the fact that ur bestest friend in the whole wide world is hopelessly in love w u and imagines what its like to be wrapped around ur creamy cunt 25/8 .. so eventually he gets tired of it and just decides to start being even more forward w it bcz ure just one oblivious bimbo :P

- ☀️ (aka same anon that sent cockwarming w haech <3)

a/n: HELLO ☀️ ANON… nice to have u here… trying something a little new… thank u for little me try this…

warnings: a little dubcon, reader wears a skirt, male masturbation, improper massage, MDNI

throughout the years haechan has known you, he’s fallen more and more in love.

you were always so nice to him, talking to him about everything and anything. you had a pretty smile, contagious laugh, and always talked to him with interest shown.

you also had a nice body. his eyes always wandering down to your almost-exposed chest, eyes lowering down to your smooth thighs. his hands always wanted to touch your pretty skin, hands twitching on his thighs at the thought.

too many times has he hung out with you and thought about fucking your cunt. he just knows you have a pretty pussy, knows that you would beg for him to fill you up. you just can’t seem to catch on, thinking his stares are only friendly.

he’s heard people talking about you, almost shushing them as they talk about his best friend. he doesn’t want to hear about how pretty you look giving someone head or how good you feel wrapped around someone’s cock.

he knows he can make you feel better than anyone else.

he never asks you about your sex life. you assume haechan probably doesn’t want to hear about it, probably doesn’t care about all the people you have sex with. he’s just your friend anyways, he’s only there to talk to you!

except, he can’t really take it anymore. he needs you to look at him, to touch him, to tell him that there’s no one else that you’d rather fuck than him. but he can’t just tell you that, right?

he decides to be more honest with you, letting you know that he’s ready for you to come to him, ready to hear you beg for his cock.

there’s a day where you’re wearing a skirt while hanging out. his hands move to warm themselves between your thighs, fingers dancing along your skin. he smiles when he sees goosebumps raising on your skin, not missing the embarrassed pout on your face.

you don’t push his hands away, watching with a dazed look as his hands trail higher on your thighs. you’re squirming in your seat, not caring that it’s your best friend that’s touching you like this. before you can start begging, he pulls away, leaving you to look at him with desperation.

there’s another day where you want to hang out at his place. he purposefully gets himself off knowing that you’re on your way. he’s letting out gross whimpers of your name, wanting you to just walk in and catch him like this, all messy for you.

once you knock on his front door, he’s cumming all over his hand, a loud moan of your name leaving his mouth. he cleans up quickly, licking off the cum on his hand before making his way to you. you notice his pink cheeks and messy hair, knowing none the wiser of his actions.

in a final attempt of trying to get you to notice him, he offers you a massage.

“i know how stressed you’ve been,” a sickly sweet smile on haechan’s face, “let me help you.”

you, of course, say yes to your friend. you even peel off your shirt, letting it lay on top of your chest, exposing your back to haechan. he didn’t even have to ask, his eyes drinking in the sight of your skin.

his hands tremble before putting them on you. he digs his thumbs into your shoulders, not missing the small whines that leave you. his cock is twitching in his pants, enjoying all the pretty noises you make.

it’s not until you let out a choked whimper when he rubs against a tender spot where he realizes he can’t take it anymore. precum spills out of his tip as his mind runs fast. his hands trail a little lower, moving to cup your covered chest. he gropes your boobs, feeling at the soft fabric covering you.

you let out a whisper of his name, hearing how he tuts back at you. “you’ll let me make you feel good, right?”

you feel his sweaty hands go under your bra as his fingers make it to your hard nipples, pinching around to hear high whimpers leave you. he can see your thighs squeezing together, your eyes peering up at his, your voice begging for more.

he tries to hide his shaky voice from you, “i knew you needed me, knew you wanted me to touch you all over.”

after all, you’re his pretty bimbo to play with.

#asks #☀️ anon #vals hard hours #haechan hard hours #nct smut #haechan smut #haechan x reader

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glow-worms-are-believers · 1 year

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Return to sender (dc x dp)

There was a box set right in front of his door. That was already pretty unusual, since Danny had just moved in, and and gotten done with boxes and he knew he hadn't had anything delivered here.

"Let's get you inside," Danny muttered as he got his key out of his pocket.

Unlocking the door, he picked it up and made his way in. He set the box down on the small kitchen table before grabbing a knife from the cabinet. He sat down and set to cutting the tape along the opening.

Peeling back the flaps, he took a peek at the contents only to be faced with a mound of yellow and black sparkly tissue paper, with a letter on top.

"What do we have here?" he muttered to himself, as he took the envelope out of the box.

Ripping it open, he got a small greeting card out. It had a yellow smiley face on it with the word "Smile!" printed above it. He flipped it open, and his eyes fixed on the printed text that said "Because today is your day!" Underneath it, written in chicken-scratch was written the following: "Looks like the bat has a new signal. At least mommy and daddy won't know how fast you replaced them!" it was signed with a simple J and yet another smiley face.

Danny frowned. "Weird."

Then, he peeled back the paper to find a taxidermied yellow-and-black bird Danny couldn't recognize, with its wings broken.

"This is definitely not mine," Danny said as he looked at the bird. Hopefully the real owner of this wasn't going to be too disappointed it had been this damaged in transit.

Danny took up the box to look at the delivery address, only to find that while this was for his apartment, the name of the receiver was marked as "Duke Marlon Thomas". It took one quick google search to find a phone number. Danny thanked whoever the sender was for including a middle name as it narrowed the search greatly. Dialling the number, Danny got up to get himself a glass of water. As he got the glass out, the line connected.

"Hello?" he heard a surprisingly young voice say. Well, assuming apparently made an ass of Danny. Maybe taxidermy really did appeal to all ages.

"Hi, my name's Danny. I think I got your package by accident."

"My package?" The guy on the other side asked, perplexdely.

"Yeah, a big box with a bird in it?" Danny answered. "Listen, man I'm sorry, I think the wings broke during transit, I swear it was already like that when I opened it-"

"What bird?" Now the guy sounded even more confused.

Well now, Danny was starting to get confused. "A taxidermied black-and-yellow bird?" Danny sounded out, then he grabbed the note and let his eyes go over it again. "There was a note too, I opened it, sorry about that." Danny winced, before trying for a joke to hopefully get the guy to soften up on him. "Whoever that J- friend is, he's got a weird sense of humour."

"J- friend?" the voice on the other side of the phone said. Guess, the joke hadn't gone over well, because his voice had gone tense.

"Yeah," Danny answered withholding a sigh, damn his curiosity. Opening other people' letters was not only a gross invasion of privacy but also a federal crime. Hopefully the guy wouldn't stay mad too long. "It was signed with the letter J and a smiley face."

"Whoever you are," said the guy, and the urgency in his voice had Danny straightening up. "You need to get out of here right now."

"What-?"

Just then, the door to Danny's apartment was blown open.

"I hope you're ready, birdie," a voice outside sounded, before a spindly man in a purple suit, green hair and sickly-looking skin walked in.

"Because you and me are going to have so much fun."

#dp x dc #dc x dp #danny phantom #batman #the signal #duke thomas #danny fenton #the joker #danny is confused #who is this skinny little man dressed in a funny little suit and why is he in his house #meanwhile duke is freaking the FUCK out #can be duke x danny or just gen #roxpox #roxpoxwrote #I think I have a cold #and I just ran out of cough drops #woe is me

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merakiui · 3 months

Text

madness of duke venomania, but it's azul. >:D women have started going missing in your village. no one knows what's happening. your lover (riddle) assures you that all will be well. he's here to keep you safe. you have nothing to fear.

and yet, in spite of that, you're the next lady to disappear.

azul, who has made a contract with a demon to make himself irresistible to all, is loved and revered in the manor in which he resides. hidden deep within the forest, it's a place no one knows of. women come, but they never go. it is here where he, who has never known the feeling, is loved. he's fancied at every hour. it's a marvelous thing. out of everyone in the harem, however, you're his favorite. his dearest darling. his sweet childhood friend. even when you mocked and ridiculed him, he thought you were the prettiest. you've since forgotten about him, having grown and matured into a wonderful lady. a lady who caught the eye of that red-haired royal tutor. but azul can forgive you and your forgetful nature. after all, he was a gross, ugly thing in his childhood—someone hardly memorable. of course you would forget him.

but now it's okay because he finally has you and all the affection he could ever want. you fall into bed with him, entangled sweetly in the sheets. you look at him like he hung the stars. you kiss him, embrace him, whisper all manner of saccharine things. you love him, so sickly enchanted that the thought of leaving him never crosses your mind. it can't. he won't allow it. you wear sheer, satin nightgowns for him and giggle when he trails his fingers up your arms to reach your shoulders, peeling the fabric off like he's unwrapping a gift. this sort of infatuation is silky-smooth, dubiously reciprocated, and yet with enough delusion it's real and raw.

riddle never gives up searching for you. he catches wind of rumors about a monster holed up in a mansion. could that be where you've gone? the locals whisper about it: a demon who can enchant and tempt even the most unwavering woman. riddle feels himself growing ill with every bit of information he learns. knowing what he must do, he dons a pretty dress, a wig, and some makeup. He hides a dagger within the frills of his gown, its blade glistening with a potent poison. he's determined. danger be damned; he'll find and save you.

azul embraces him like he does every woman, far too full of himself to realize the con. it's when he feels the sharp, stabbing pain in his abdomen that he draws away, his pompous façade failing. he looks on in horror, blood seeping through his clothes, as riddle tears the wig off to scowl at him. the vermillion-stained dagger is held tightly in his other hand.

oh. he was tricked.

azul collapses, his palms pressing against the wound in an effort to halt the bleeding. it's no use. the poison digs deep, a fatal foil. with the spell effectively broken the women, who were once so wrapped up in him—so ensorcelled—begin to flee. he watches them go, his expression twisted in pain. but nothing hurts more than when you step over him on the cold tiles, striding towards the door. azul reaches out for you with a blood-stained palm. he looks pitiful. weak. sad.

you turn to look at him. his eyes are wide and panicked, tears rolling down his cheeks in rivulets. he'll die alone here. you don't quite care.

with your hand sliding into riddle's, you scoff at him and turn away.

he begs you to wait, to come back, to listen to him. please... please don't leave him. don't go! he hasn't told you he loves you yet!

#meraki mumbles

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miffysrambles · 7 months

Note

Hello :) I would like to request! For Sun Wukong, Macaque and Mk X Reader (can be any gender that you prefer to use) And can It be separate please 'w'

And basically the story is that Reader has caught a nasty Cold/Sore Throat and is not doing so well, until the boys come to the rescue and help them out the best they can, and later on they back on their feet again!

Thank you 👍

Wukong, Macaque, and MK WIth a Sick! S/O

Wukong:

Coughs and sniffles filled the air as you lay in your bed, flipping through channels on your television.

You had caught the cold going around since the weather was dropping for the autumn season, even though you were on top of your hygiene.

You were in the middle of a rerun of an old sitcom when your phone rang. Groaning, you reached over to your nightstand and saw your boyfriend Wukong was calling.

You put the call on speaker as you were too mentally and physically exhausted to put it up to your ear, “Hello…?”

Ew, your voice sounded gross.

“Peaches, you ok? Gods, your voice sounds awful!” Wow, he could’ve at least tried to lie.

“I’m sick Wukong, we can’t spend time together today…”

“Who says? I could come over and help ya’ feel better!” You could hear him rustling through his hut at the end of the line, meaning he was already on his way over..

“And before you say something like ‘Oh but my generous and oh-so-kind boyfriend Wukong, I don’t want you to get sick either!’ Don’t worry! Immortals barely ever get sick.”

You laughed softly at his pathetic impression of you, clearly he was joking but you had to admit he was pretty spot on with your concerns.

“If you’re sure hon, I’ll see you in a bit.” Your hoarse voice added a few coughs at the end.

“Oh, I’m definitely sure peaches, see ya’ in a few minutes! I love you, mwwah!” He added loud kissing noises at the end which made you laugh more.

He always knew just how to cheer you up by putting a smile on your face, even if you felt like literal garbage.

After a few agonizing minutes of lying in your sweat-filled state, you heard the window to your bedroom open as your boyfriend sat on the windowsill.

“You coulda just have used the door like a normal person.” You laughed softly, making him roll his eyes with a grin.

“Not as romantic though.” He jumped from your window as he held a pharmacy bag in his hand, setting it down on your nightstand as he put his palm up to your forehead.

“Sheesh, you’re burning up… How ya feeling hon?” His tail thumped against your bed, signaling he was very much worried for you.

“Like garbage, but a bit better now that you’re here.” You smiled up at him as his hand cupped your cheek, his thumb rubbing circles in a small attempt to help you feel better.

He reached over to the bag, pulling out some peach-flavored syrup medicine making you raise an eyebrow.

“Peach flavored, really? I didn’t even know they made it in that flavor.” You laughed softly, not even minding the throbbing pain in your throat.

“Whaaat?! It’s the best flavor and it reminded me of you! Now open wide peaches, here comes the airplane!” He playfully teased you as he poured the medicine into a spoon, pretending it was flying toward your mouth with fake airplane sounds.

You rolled your eyes as you decided to go along with his teasing, opening your mouth as you swallowed the medicine.

Your face scrunched as you hesitantly swallowed the ghastly syrup, “Ugh that is awful!”

Wukong laughed as he smirked, “C’mon you got another spoonful to go!”

“Noooooo!”

Macaque:

Your coughing and sneezing slowly stirred Macaque awake from his deep sleep, rubbing his eyes as he sat up and looked over to see you holding a box of tissues.

“Sick huh?” His voice made you jump as your sickly state didn’t even make you realize he was awake now.

“O-Oh! Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up!” Your hoarse voice made him wince, he could tell by just the way you talked you did NOT feel good.

“Hey hey, it’s ok sweet cheeks. You can’t help it if you’re sick, c’mere.” He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you back down onto the bed, rubbing the back of your head to help ease the throbbing pain.

“But I don’t want to get you sick, I should go home.” You muttered in between sniffles and coughs.

He chuckled softly as he shook his head, his tail wrapping around your waist to keep you close and signaling you weren’t going anywhere anytime soon.

“No can do sugarplum, you’re stuck with me for today. And besides, I’m a demon. We don’t ‘get sick’.” His fingers were tangled in your hair, making the throbbing in the back of your head subside as you sighed in relief and contentment.

Your head laid against his chest, the room was silent besides the sounds of your clogged sinuses which you really needed right now to help ease your migraine.

“I’m gonna get up and go to the store to get you some medicine, I’ll be right back ok?” Macaque’s low voice spoke into your ear.

You nodded as he let you go and gently laid you back down on his bed, putting on his clothes and using his shadow magic to summon a portal as he fell through it.

A few minutes later he rose out of the floor from the shadows, holding a plastic bag as he sat down next to you on the bed.

He smiled down at you as you put your head in his lap, his fingers going right back to your hair as he played with the strands with care.

He pulled out a bottle of pills and a water bottle and handed them both to you, “Here you go starshine, I got you everything you needed.”

He also pulled out a washcloth and soaked it in the water, putting it against your forehead to help cool you down.

“Thank you hon…” You were able to breathe out softly as you popped the pill into your mouth and sipped on the water.

“No problem sugar.” His fingers caressed your head, his eyes staring lovingly down at you.

You noticed out of the corner of your eye his wallet on the dresser as you turned your head back up to him, “Macaque, how did you pay for the medicine if your wallet is on the dresser?”

“..Don’t worry about that sweet cheeks.”

MK:

MK was on a noodle run when he noticed one of the orders was for your address, his face beamed as he could use this as an excuse to see you.

Pigsy had worked him to the bone today and luckily yours was the last order of the day so he could take his time seeing you.

He parked his work scooter in the parking lot of your apartment complex as he walked up to your door, knocking with a pep in his knuckles as he called out to you.

“Heyyy (Name), it’s me! I got your noodles and I wanna see your cute face!”

After a few seconds of waiting, his eyebrow raised as his phone went off in his pocket.

Seeing it was a text from you, he opened it and read it out loud.

“ ‘Come in. There’s a key underneath the mat.’’ Huh, why didn’t they just answer the door?”

He raised the welcome mat and unlocked your door with your spare key, seeing it was completely dark inside as he stepped through the doorway.

“(Name)? It’s me, where are you?”

He put the noodles on your kitchen counter as he walked through your small apartment, every single light was off so he used his phone flashlight to work his way through the shadows.

He reached your bedroom and slowly opened the door, peeking his head through as he saw a figure underneath the bedsheets huffing and coughing.

“Oooohhh, that’s why you didn't answer the door.” He walked over as he slowly lifted your covers, seeing your messed up hair and still in your pajamas from the night before.

You smiled up at him through your miserable state, "Hi hon. Do you have my noodles?”

MK nodded as he retrieved them from the kitchen, sitting down next to you on the bed as he smiled.

“Here, let me feed them to you. The perk of being sick is your boyfriend gets to do everything for you!”

You smiled as he opened the container, the warm broth filling the air as you sighed in contentment, opening your mouth as he brought the chopsticks to your lips.

He continued to feed the noodles to you, eventually getting down to just the broth as he handed the bowl to you, “Here drink this, the broth helps when your throat is sore. It helped me when I was sick when Pigsy brought me a bowl.”

You brought the bowl up to your lips and sipped on the warm liquid, sighing as you laid your head on his shoulder.

“Thanks for bringing them to me, let me get you your money.”

He laughed as he wrapped an arm around you, shaking his head.

“Don’t worry about it sweetie, It’s on me tonight. You just work on feeling better.”

#ask #lmk #lego monkie kid #lmk x reader #lego monkie kid x reader #lmk sun wukong #lmk wukong #lmk macaque #lmk mk #lmk sun wukong x reader #lmk wukong x reader #lmk macaque x reader #lmk mk x reader #sun wukong x reader #wukong x reader #macaque x reader #mk x reader

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stupidlittlespirit · 1 month

Text

Claustrophobia

Rating: NSFW, mdni Type: Longform, smut Tags: Trapped in a closet, Dubious consent, premature ejaculation, dry humping, fingering, no pronouns but female body described, slight gaslighting, Reigen being a disgusting pervert, female body described and skirt/stockings but no pronouns. Word count: 9,140 (sorry it's so long) My other works: here on tumblr and here on Ao3!

Reader and Reigen get locked in a closet during a job gone wrong, and Reigen doesn't know how to behave. (inspired loosely by @vasiktomis's fic)

Reigen isn’t in the habit of taking solo jobs he can't handle alone. Not anymore, anyway,

He's learned that, quite understandably, no one can be reasonably expected to just drop what they’re doing to serve his whim when he finds himself facing a threat bigger than the boots that he places himself in sometimes. Nowadays, he sticks to what he knows and picks the work that's least likely to result in an untimely death. Without any psychic abilities of his own, Reigen tends to go for the less spiritually-inclined call outs.

When he'd taken this job, he had assumed it to be one of those times.

The client, Kawasaki, had bemoaned a supposed ghostly presence lingering in a rundown property of his, causing damage and defacing the place, and stopping him from renovating the house for new tenants. As loath as Reigen had been to help a landlord, the price of the job had been decent enough to convince him otherwise and so he had taken it on.

Kawasaki’s description during his consultation had sounded like nothing more than squatters or trespassing teenagers looking for somewhere quiet to make out. Serizawa had agreed; broken locks, leftover beer cans and abandoned trash aren’t common signs of spirits and so Reigen had thought little of attending without any psychic backup. If he can manage without Mob or Serizawa, he will. They’re both busy enough, it wouldn’t do to drag them away from their studies or their friends for no reason. Besides, Reigen is confident enough in his own ability to handle things, for better or worse.

Still, he isn’t dense enough to wander into an abandoned den filled with potentially unfriendly squatters and disgusting creepy-crawlies all on his lonesome. Reigen can be stupid, but he’s not dumb. Instead, he had requested (see: demanded) the help of the only other person in the office he knows rarely has anywhere else to be: You.

He’s well aware that you don’t have much going on outside of working hours and you’re usually moderately willing to stretch your legs a bit when the day has been slow. A person can only stand to look at paperwork for so many hours a day, he supposes.

When you’d asked why, exactly, he needed you of all people to join him, Reigen had been blunt: “I’d rather not get stabbed over a property dispute, if that’s alright with you. Plus, I need someone to keep an eye out for roaches.”

According to his expert assessment, the work would be simple: Get in, sweet talk the people inside into moving along, and collect the fee.

Except, as is often the case, nothing Reigen ever does is simple.

When the two of you arrive, the building is empty. There isn’t a single sign of life nor death inside the entire house and he isn't really that surprised. The place is absolutely rotten. Dirty wallpaper peels from place, the once rich-looking wooden fixtures are soft and stained a gross green colour, their usual glossy surfaces dull and sickly, and the interior is so degraded that he's not sure how the landlord intends to salvage the place, regardless of damage done by potential unwelcome visitors.

Sleeping on the street would be preferable to staying here.

“So much for squatters,” he hears you mutter, the beam of your flashlight swinging around the room. It skims from tattered floorboards to broken down shelving, circuiting the room as you turn on the spot in search of the client’s woes.

“Maybe they left,” Reigen says, peering into a side room. “Makes our job easier anyway.”

“I wouldn’t hang around here, I know that much,” you sigh.

“Why?” Reigen smirks. “Not scared, are you?” He can never pass up on an opportunity to provoke you. You’re always a breeze to wind up and Reigen would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy watching your hackles rise. He’s proficient in the art of being a dick, especially when it comes to you.

You roll your eyes at his attempt. “You wish. We should check upstairs at least, just to be sure.”

Reigen agrees, though in his ever chivalrous nature, he invites you to be the first one to brave the weak looking staircase. Each step you take up the rickety stairs is cautious, ensuring you won’t fall straight through the rotted wood and accidentally impale yourself on an exposed nail, and Reigen follows your footsteps perfectly.

It’s even darker up here. The windows are shuttered, boarded up tight beyond a few ripped out panels, and there doesn’t appear to be anyone hiding in the rooms; they’re equally as dilapidated as the ones downstairs. There are remnants of life in the house, though, besides the leftover trash: discarded boxes filled with long-abandoned books and menial belongings, old furniture and forgotten blankets, but they all appear to be as old as the home.

They’re covered in grime and clearly haven’t been touched much. The squatter theory looks weak without fresh signs of habitation, but there’s always the chance people are breaking in to snoop around.

Dust particles catch in the light beams of your torches as he takes you deeper inside, glittering and wispy, passing through the air like tiny little fairies uprooted from their hiding spots. Reigen swallows a sneeze and turns away from you, covering his nose and mouth with the sleeve of his jacket.

Dimly, he supposes he should have gotten masks for you both; the last thing he wants is a health and safety insurance claim on his hands if you inhale something gross. “If you see any asbestos, keep your distance,” he warns. “I’m not paying your hospital bill.”

“Thanks,” you reply, tone so dry it’s practically parched. “What does it look like?”

“No idea,” says Reigen, shrugging. “But don’t breathe it in.”

“Asshole.” He can almost hear you roll your eyes and he bites down on a grin.

The air is much cooler upstairs, icy enough to permeate Reigen’s suit and he suppresses a shiver as you follow his lead down a long hallway.

Despite his confidence in the office that the presence of a spirit here would be unlikely, he can’t help but feel nervous. Downstairs had been gross, but upstairs feels decidedly…. Unwelcoming in comparison. Like something is waiting for you both, hidden in the darkness and waiting to strike.

He knows it’s probably his imagination. This isn’t his first rodeo and usually a spirit makes itself known the moment he pokes around a bit. You’re just paranoid, Reigen thinks to himself, get a grip.

Your voice breaks through the silent air: “Can you feel that?” You whisper, coming up close behind him.

Anxiety rolls off of you in waves and Reigen can sense how tense you are even at a distance. He really ought to be a decent boss and offer some reassurance to the least experienced member of his team. You’re not usually the one who’s dragged into spooky places like this with little to no preparation; your expertise extends to paperwork and filing cabinets, and with no Esper abilities to speak of you’re completely exposed to danger. Reigen is too, he supposes, but he’s used to charging into unfriendly dens of danger without much care for his wellbeing.

He should be considerate and give you some warm words of comfort, offer to protect you if all hell breaks loose, yet he knows you’re not the type to cling to him like a frightened fawn and he’d only insult you if he suggested anything of the sort. Instead, he decides he’ll break the tension in a way that only he knows how.

He pauses at your front and you almost walk into the back of him, too busy looking behind you to pay attention. Reigen puts a hand out to keep you steady. “What do you mean?” He asks, glancing over his shoulder at you.

“I’m not sure,” you say, flicking your flashlight around in the darkness. “The air…. It feels heavy, don’t you think?”

Reigen hums and comes to stand behind you, swapping places and standing close enough that his chest bumps your back. “Actually, now that you mention it….”

Without a word, he reaches past you and motions for you to raise the flashlight a little, and you do as you’re asked, pointing it towards an empty room just off of the corridor. The beam is too weak to fully penetrate the darkness as you point it inside however, and the light barely makes a difference.

“What is it?” You whisper, craning your head around to see if you can spot whatever has caught his attention. The light is swallowed by the black expanse and it makes it seem as though the building is ten times as big as the distance you’ve just walked.

Reigen doesn’t answer your question.

The silence is deafening.

Reigen is so close to you that he can see the hairs rise on your arms in his own torchlight and he’s quite pleased when you lean away from where you’re pointing the light, pressing back against him unconsciously in order to distance yourself from whatever might lurk in the shadows. You might not be the sort of person that needs protecting, but he can’t deny that something stirs inside himself at the thought of you seeking him out for support anyway.

Nothing moves in the dark.

No one speaks a word.

It’s the most perfect set-up Reigen could imagine.

“Boo!”

His hands grab at your sides as he shouts right down your ear, as loud as he can manage. The scream you let loose is close to inhuman and in a pure panic, you lurch away from the source, scrambling aside until your shoulder collides hard against the wall. You swing your torch out violently in a feeble attempt to protect yourself from the unseen threat and Reigen dodges the heavy lump of metal, laughing his head off at his wonderfully successful prank.

The watery light lands on his doubled over form, collapsed against the opposing wall in a fit of ugly giggles, his body shaking with the force of it. He cackles at the terrified sight of you, hands still outstretched from where he’d seized your waist. “Your face!” Reigen gasps, struggling to breathe through his fits. “Man, you’re too easy!”

It doesn’t take a genius to see that you’re very admirably restraining yourself from throwing the torch at his head. You look like you’ve had the fear of God put in you, face paling and eyes wide, clutching at the ruined walls like a cartoon cat on the ceiling. The big grin that splits Reigen’s smug face suggests he’s overjoyed that he’s gotten such a reaction from you; he always is.

Furious, you lash out with one foot to kick at his shin. “Fuck off!” you hiss, breathless with fright. “Fucking asshole!”

Still laughing, Reigen nimbly avoids your attempted assault again. He looks far too pleased with himself and as soon as you can breathe again, you flounce off down the hallway and make your way back towards the staircase, leaving him pitched against the doorframe whilst he tries to get his breath back.

The darkness clearly doesn’t seem as frightening to you now that it’s clear the biggest threat in here is your jerk of a boss and you stride back the way you came, ignoring Reigen’s half-hearted shouts for you to wait. He won’t let you get too far without him. Although the house is empty, it’s still run down and dodgy as fuck. The last thing he wants is for you to be so angry with him that you fall down the stairs or cut yourself escaping his mean spirited jokes.

“Wait a second!” Reigen shouts, still struggling to sound completely serious. He scrambles after you, following the sound of your heavy footsteps as you stomp back the way you’d come.

“It’s not funny,” you snap over your shoulder. “Get lost. You can go-!” Your sentences halts halfway through, cut off almost comically, and Reigen is mildly disappointed that you’re not throwing rabid insults his way.

“C’mon,” Reigen cajoles, pushing his luck as he rounds the corner to the landing. “Don’t be like that, I thought you could take a joke!” He’s still got a stupid grin on his face as he comes closer and he takes a breath to say something else when abruptly he realises you’re standing stock still in place.

You look even more terrified than you had moments earlier and briefly, Reigen worries he might have caused permanent trauma “What is it?” Reigen asks, suddenly sounding a lot less jovial. “I didn’t scare you that badly, did I?”

At the foot of the staircase, the floorboards squeak and a foreign voice speaks aloud into the damp air: “I thought it was funny.”

He freezes mid-step, one foot suspended in the air. The voice doesn’t belong to anyone he recognises and judging by the look on your face, it doesn’t belong to anyone you know either. A cold and unpleasant sensation slides down the back of his neck, like a fat droplet of ice water trickling along his skin. The heavy, dense atmosphere is back, even worse than it had been when you’d first come up here.

Cautiously, like he’s afraid the room might explode, Reigen edges toward where you’re standing. You don’t look at him at all, eyes fixed on whatever has spoken at the foot of the staircase, and it makes Reigen’s blood run cold again. Very slowly, he ekes his flashlight up from where it points at the floor to join yours and shines it’s weak beam towards the source of the sound. It illuminates the bottom most stair and as he raises it higher and higher, the form of an impossibly black figure reveals itself.

It’s vaguely human shaped, except the limbs are longer than they should be and they’re bent at uncomfortable angles, like it’s stuffed into the space it crouches in. The thing is big enough that it takes up the entire doorway at the foot of the stairs and it seems to almost absorb the light of the torch, watching the two of you closely with a featureless face. No, not quite totally featureless. Rather than have eyes or a nose, or any other defining characteristic, It has a big, horrible smile, made up of crooked teeth that peek out from behind non-existent lips.

Reigen hears your breathing hitch in fear and this time, his responsible boss attitude does take over. He curls a hand around your wrist and inches in front of you, sheltering your body with his. The spirit is big. Bigger than the usual ones he faces off against. With only a bag of salt in his pocket and a hopeful prayer in his heart, Reigen knows he’s limited in options on how to deal with this. There’s no Mob and no Serizawa to back him up. He’s on his own for this one and he really doesn’t want to give you the impression that he can’t handle things by himself.

Maybe he can use the only trusty weapon he has in his arsenal: His mouth. Reigen holds his free hand up in an innocent gesture. “Sorry,” he says, plastering on a fake smile. “Didn’t mean to disturb you. We were just, uh, exploring….”

The spirit makes a sound of disgust, like two rusty metal sheets rubbing together, and it begins to crawl up the stairs, inch by inch. “Exploring each other, more like. Why is it always my house you kids come to fuck in?”

Reigen chokes on his tongue, his face burning. “Hey, come on, it’s not like that!”

“Of course you are, you’re all the same.” The spirit’s mouth draws back into an impossibly wider grin. “Why can’t you just get handsy in the car like everyone else?”

“Fuck off,” you snap, though your voice is weak. “No one’s coming to this shit hole to have sex.”

The spirit’s grin turns downward into a furious scowl and Reigen barely predicts what’s about to happen in enough time to yank you away from harm. The grotesque creature launches itself upward, its long limbs allowing it the capacity to make short work of the remaining stairs, and it lunges straight for the both of you with a snarling shout of indignance at your insult of its home.

Reigen manages a shout of warning before he yanks you aside, grabbing your hand in a bruising grip, and he pulls you out of the thing’s path with all the strength he can muster. You have the good sense to let him manhandle you across the landing, abandoning your torch in favour of hanging onto him, and you stagger alongside towards the hallway again.

The creature crashes against the wall at the top of the stairs, the force of its strike knocking over the old furniture that’s been discarded there to grow mouldy and old. The wood crunches horribly on impact and Reigen is always impressed by the way spirits, for such non-corporeal beings, manage incredible ways of destroying their far more material environments with ease. Right now, however, he’d rather not go the same way as that chest of drawers. He doesn’t plan on dying in a place like this and there’s no way he’s about to let you meet a grisly end either. He’s far too fond of you for that.

The spirit has the stairs cornered, which leaves little else in the way of an escape route. Reigen has no choice but to take you deeper into the house and hope to lead the thing around in a circle to free up the stairway. Barrelling down the corridor, Reigen is running blind. He realises he must have dropped his flashlight in the chaos, too, because everything in the house is so incredibly dark that he feels like there’s a bag over his head. It’s almost impossible for him to see where he’s going, there’s no way he’ll be able to get his bearings well enough to loop the property like this.

That is, until a sliver of light from another room catches his eye. Reigen pivots on his heel at breakneck speed and heaves you sideways with him through the open doorway, ever the nimble little weasel. He slams the door shut behind you and scans the room for a hiding place, breathing hard and keeping a tight, sweaty hold of your hand.

“What do we do?!” You gasp, out of breath from both the running and the fear. “We can’t get out, what do we-!”

“In there!” Reigen points across the dim room. On the far side past a broken down bed and several piles of boxes and filthy duvets, there’s a slim little closet. It’s the only thing in here that seems to still be whole and mercifully preserved from the rot that’s infected the rest of the building. It’s the best bet either of you will have at staying hidden.

Reigen doesn’t wait for you to answer. Instead, he lugs you towards it and wrenches open the doors, tumbling inside. Reigen’s back hits the wall as he flattens himself against the interior, his body folding awkwardly in order to fit into the cramped, tight space, and he hauls you in after him. You’re all elbows and knees as you land on him, scrabbling for purchase in a panic, and your body shoves at his while you try and find your balance in the darkness.

He pushes you against the opposing side, his hands clutching your waist to stop you from wobbling and falling right back out into the open, and his legs tangle up between both of yours. By some stroke of good fortune, you have the presence of mind to snatch the doors shut after yourself. They close with a mercifully quiet click! and then it’s just the two of you, panting hard and fast into the dimness as you listen for signs of your undead pursuer.

Several somethings clatter around in the hallway, followed by the sound of breaking glass and a frustrated growl, and Reigen strains to hear if the sounds are moving any closer to the bedroom you’re sheltering in.

After a few long moments, however, nothing comes.

Reigen breathes a silent sigh of relief and then feels you shift in place. You’re virtually painted onto his front, your chest squashed against his own and your face not even half an inch away from his. It dawns on him that this is quite the intimate position to be in with a person he’s supposed to be in charge of, and he feels the cool sweat of adrenaline turn into lukewarm awkwardness.

You tilt your head a fraction to give yourself a bit of room to speak and your lips brush up against his cheek. “What were you thinking?!” you scold him in barely a whisper.

“Huh?” Reigen murmurs back, trying to ignore the sensation.

“We’re sitting ducks in here,” you breathe. “If that fucking thing finds us, we’re dead!”

He hadn’t really considered that. The closet is tiny and dark, only a tiny filtering of pale light from a broken window board across the room reaches through the thin slats sitting just above your heads. It smells like dank old oak and probably a few different cultures of microorganisms. The only thing there’s room for in here is mould and dust. Neither he nor you will be able to escape if the spirit figures out where you’re hiding.

“Just shut up,” Reigen mutters, flexing his hands on your waist. “Stay quiet until it gets bored and then we can sneak out.” It’s a weak plan, but it’s all he has right now.

A few rooms over, something crashes against a wall and you flinch against him.

Reigen can feel the warmth of your body seeping into his own through your clothes, your breasts brushing the front of his shirt, your hips locked with his own. Your arms are forced almost around one another, both of you clinging to the other’s sides. Perhaps it’s the excitement of the chase, or maybe the thrill of escaping yet another near-death situation, but Reigen’s blood feels like it’s catching alight. He’s warming up all over, perspiration beading at his temples, and he isn’t quite sure how to stop it. Were he to purse his lips, he might even accidentally kiss you.

Reigen is technically in charge of you. It’s well known in the office that all of you work side-by-side, however on the paperwork side of things, he is legally your superior. He’s supposed to uphold a certain air of respectability around his colleagues yet when it comes to you, he finds that responsibility getting more difficult by the day. You argue back and forth with him, always ready to challenge his overpowering confidence when it starts to get out of hand, and he can tell you enjoy the verbal sparring as much as he does.

There’s something unsaid between you both, something heavy that’s only been building over time, but Reigen is too afraid to drop his façade of being The Boss Of You to investigate it further in case he’s read the entire situation wrong. If you were to refuse him, to laugh in his face, he'd never live it down. He couldn't handle such a dent in his ego and he'd rather die than admit it aloud.

He does his best to hide it when he chances little looks at you and so far he’s only been caught out on his less-than-professional observations once, by Ekubo. Horrible little fiend that the ghost is, he’d caught Reigen sneaking a peek at your ass as you’d cleaned a cupboard in the staffroom, chatting away to him and none the wiser of his perverseness; you’d been on your hands and knees, half disappeared into the space under the sink, and Reigen had seized the opportunity to drink in a spectacular view of you from behind.

Your skirt had risen ever so slightly too high, revealing the top of your stockings and the thin sliver of the clips that held the fabric in place, and Reigen had lurked silently in the doorway, watching closely and committing the sight to memory.

Until, of course, Ekubo had materialised out of thin air, as he is so often wont to do, grinning lasciviously, and scared the shit out of Reigen so badly that he’d almost tumbled backwards out of the room. Despite the rude interruption, he’s never forgotten the sight.

Reigen knows it's wrong, that it's fucked up that he'd view a staff member, a friend, like that, and yet he's never had the willpower to put a stop to it. Images of you in raunchy positions just like on that day have haunted his mind on late, lonely nights whilst his hand has wandered into the waistband of his underwear of its own accord.

He’s fully aware that he shouldn’t be jerking himself off every night thinking of you stuck under the sink, unable to get away from his curious hands, but he can’t ever feel guilty enough to think of anything else.

Right now, he wishes he'd at least tried. The memories of those imagined scenarios are stirred up by your closeness and he thinks, distantly, that if he'd tried to be a good person for once and made an effort to ignore them then he might not be struggling as much as he is currently. He’s never intended for you to find out about his fantasies and getting caught short like this is probably not going to go down well. He needs to stop thinking about all of this before it gets out of hand.

The sound of floorboards groaning out in the hallway outside makes you startle and you squirm between his legs, straining to look through the slats of the door. One of your thighs rubs up into his crotch, sleek material gliding against his suit, and he’s reminded that you’re wearing another skirt today; the smoothness of your legs means you’re more than likely in stockings again and the memory rears its head. Reigen grunts softly, gritting his teeth. “Stop it,” he grinds out quietly. “Quit moving.”

Much to his distress, you don't. Rather than obey his command, you use his body to push yourself further up to peek out of the slats and Reigen is forced to tighten his hold around your middle, dragging you back down. If you won't stop, he's going to have to make you. He digs his fingers into your side, bunching them up in the fabric of your shirt and pulling it downward to still you.

“Let go of me, you idiot,” you hiss, attempting to pry off his grip and straighten up. “I can't see!”

Reigen is sure you don’t intend to do it but the motion of your movement forces your hips to rock forward into his and he bites down on his lip so hard that he thinks he's drawn blood. He attempts to move away again, only to bump his knees against the wall under you. Reigen sucks in a sharp breath, ready to snap at you again to force you to back off, until the door to the room you're in bursts open like a group of police officers exercising a warrant. It slams against the wall loudly, the whole thing vibrating with the force. Nose to nose with him, you share a look of panic.

Something lets out a rattle of breath outside.

Reigen leans his head aside to press his mouth against your ear. “Don’t fucking move,” he says, barely audible, and he does his best not to notice the way you tilt your own head to let him fit in closer. His breath is hot against your skin and if he isn’t mistaken, you might even shiver a little.

The creature outside prowls into the bedroom, grunting and growling to itself as it searches between littered furniture for the two stowaways. Its nails scrape on the floorboards, the sound getting louder and louder until it pauses, right outside the closet. There’s a chittering noise that reverberates in Reigen’s chest and just beyond the wood, barely a hands-width away from your heads, the spirit sniffs up and down the seam of the closet. It sounds like there’s something wet caught in its throat, each draw of breath a phlegm filled rattle, and it scratches its claws on the door, seeking out any living forms within.

The spirit smells foul. Its scent is somewhere between death and rancid meat, and Reigen swallows against the saliva that rises and swims in his mouth, trying not to gag. The freezing air on its dead breath ruffles the hair at the tops of your heads and washes you both with the scent.

A swaying cobra, its form moves across the light that filters into the cupboard, turning it murky and dark but not quite removing it entirely, almost as though it’s trying to peer inside despite its lack of eyes. After a few minutes of unbearably intense silence, the spirit seems to give up on sniffing you out. It lashes out at the closet doors with its talons, tearing into the surface of the wood, before turning tail and lurching out of the room to continue its search elsewhere.

The aggressive swipe it takes at the closet makes the whole thing rattle loudly, bouncing the doors inward with force, and you jolt as though you’ve been hit. Instinctively, Reigen turns his head to check that you’re not hurt and at the same time, you turn yourself into him even more, afraid of the thing lurking outside. In the tight space, with barely even enough room to breathe, the motion forces your mouths to slot together. It can hardly be called a kiss; you’re doing little more than exchanging oxygen with one another, yet it’s so close to one that Reigen’s body betrays him almost instantly.

On your breath, he can smell the sugary strawberries you’d eaten on the way over here and again his mind conjures images, unbidden, of your lips wrapped around the fruit’s soft flesh as you’d eaten them in the passenger seat of the hire car, of the smile on your face when he handed them over; a bribe from a stopover at a gas station to stop your complaints about the long drive and an entirely selfish gesture on his part, purely for the reward of your attention (and perhaps, too, for the guilty pleasure of watching you lick your fingers clean when you’d finished).

The thought reignites the heat in his body and almost instantly, all of the blood in his brain sinks to his crotch. Reigen gets hard so quickly that he almost passes out. He isn’t sure where he finds the resolve, but somehow he manages to hold back the tiny little groan that threatens to spill from his throat, instead breathing in sharply through his nose at the sensation. Reigen’s eyes flutter shut momentarily, both in pleasure and in anticipatory fear of the look on your face.

He knows you must have noticed; his suit fabric is cheap and thin, barely a barrier to hide behind, and with your own legs exposed by your skirt there’s no way you could miss it. The weak light allows him to make out that you glance down and then back up to him.

Embarrassment burns on his face.

“It’s my cell phone,” Reigen lies without hesitation, defending his pride before you can even begin to question it. “Don’t flatter yourself.” He knows better than to throw out an insult to protect his own decency, however he’s starting to panic a little more than a seasoned sleuth should be and it has nothing to do with a ghostly presence.

You clear your throat softly and nod, looking away. The smirk on your face only makes his cheeks burn more; you’ll never let this go if he doesn’t act fast and distract you. “Look, we need to make a run for it while we still have the chance,” Reigen says quietly, trying to will away his arousal as best he can. “We open the doors and sneak back to the stairs. Don’t say a word and follow my lead, got it?” He’s being stricter than he usually is, partially to conceal his humiliation and partially because he needs to put his mind to something that doesn’t involve his dick.

“Sure thing, boss,” you whisper back, and Reigen can hear the amusement in your tone. He chooses to ignore it. When you get back to the office though, he’s going to make you clean that damn sink again in penance and he won’t feel the slightest bit of guilt for watching you do it. Maybe this time, he’ll even take a picture for his private collection….

Lower down in the closet, the light is completely swallowed again by darkness and Reigen has to blindly take one hand off of your waist to slide it along the door until his fingers bump against the knob. He takes hold of it and twists, attempting to push the door outward slowly. Except, the door doesn’t move. It doesn’t even budge. Confused, Reigen twists the metal further in case he hasn’t moved it around far enough and tries again. Still, nothing happens.

“What are you waiting for?” you say, frustrated.

“It won’t open,” Reigen grunts, rattling the doorknob as hard as he dares. He can’t afford to make too much noise and draw the spirit back towards you both, but he can’t risk losing the chance to run for it, either.

“Please tell me you’re fucking kidding,” you say in a strained whisper. “Reigen, stop messing aroun-”

“I’m not!” Reigen growls, jiggling it again. “I can’t get it- it won’t open!” He applies a little more pressure, wrenching it back and forth a few more times until, after one particularly frustrated yank, there’s a sickening crunch of dead wood and more light pools into the closet via a new, small hole.

He’s ripped the entire thing off.

“Oh,” says Reigen quietly.

You stare at him in utter disbelief.

“This place is falling apart,” Reigen says, immediately protective of his screw up. “It isn’t my fault-”

“You pulled the fucking handle off, Reigen!” Your voice rises momentarily before you wrestle it back under control at Reigen’s rather brusque shhh! “You pulled it off,” you repeat, far quieter this time but still distressed. “We’ll be trapped in here for hours, you idiot!”

You’re right. The only two people who know you’re both here are Mob and Serizawa. Mob is busy with friends and it’ll take Serizawa a little while to catch on that something is wrong. The job is about forty minutes from the office; allowing for travel and the time it takes to complete the work, Reigen can safely estimate that it’ll be a while before your absence is questioned. That means he’s going to be stuck in this stupid little closet, half hard and totally distracted, with you glued to him for a long time.

He tips his head back against the closet wall and sighs, closing his eyes as he tries to wrack his brain for potential options.

Reigen wonders if he should just try throwing himself at the door and facing off with a hungry spirit. It might be more preferable than his current situation, at least.

It’s uncharacteristic of you to be so mute when Reigen fucks up, and after a few minutes of miserable silence he opens his eyes again to check that you’re still there. You are, of course, but there’s a look on your face that Reigen rarely sees you wear. Despite the shitty light, he can just about make out that your eyes are becoming wide, gaze darting around the closet, and he can feel your chest beginning to rise and fall far quicker than normal, just like it had when he’d made you jump. Your breath is coming in fast, short pants and your hands grasp at the front of his shirt.

You’re starting to panic.

Abruptly, Reigen remembers you confiding in him a while ago whilst the two of you had watched some terrible horror movie together, lounging around in his apartment one evening, about how much you disliked the thought of being trapped.

The protagonist had been buried alive and you’d barely been able to finish the rest of the movie, too caught up in the anxiety of the scenario to remember how unlikely it would be for a similar fate to befall you. You’d clutched his arm so tightly that he’d found a small bruise the next morning in the shower and he can still recall how excited he had felt to have a souvenir of your presence….

Focus! Reigen warns himself, straightening up as best he can to force himself back into the moment. Now isn’t the time!

He squeezes your waist gently, a reassuring reminder that he’s right here with you. “Calm down, I’ve got it all under control,” Reigen lies through his teeth, slipping back into his false bluster the moment he knows he’s fucking things up. “We can wait until the spirit goes back to sleep and then-”

“Spirits don’t sleep!” You snap. “I’m not waiting-”

“They totally do!” Reigen replies, annoyed that you’re questioning his ever profound knowledge. “Look, I’m the professional here, you don’t even come out on jobs so why don’t you just-”

“You got us stuck in here in the first place, mister professional,” you say angrily. Both of your voices are stage whispers now, caught between concealing your presence and yelling at one another. “There has to be a safety release in here!” Your body twists viciously as you squirm around, hands flitting across the inside of the closet in an urgent attempt to free yourself from its confines.

Somehow, despite the tiny space, the ferocity of your search manages to turn you around until your back is flat against his chest instead, your body ramming his.

Reigen is torn between biting his own tongue off in frustration at the feeling of you writhing against him and yanking you closer to seek more contact. He drops the doorknob onto his foot, praying the sound will be muffled enough that it won’t draw attention and freeing up his other hand to grab a hold of you before anything more mortifying occurs. He needs to distract you, for his sake and yours.

“Hey, stop!” He attempts to prevent you from going any further, wrapping his arms around your waist and anchoring you down. “Easy, just stay still-”

“Get off of me!” you snap, tilting your head toward him and wriggling against his grip even harder. With every move, your ass bounces off of his lap and Reigen prays to whatever god is listening that he doesn’t make any more of a fool of himself than he already has today. The sensation is sinful, like he’s fucking you with your clothes on, and Reigen isn’t sure that he can hold out like this.

“Wait,” you pant, halting your search in the darkness to reach behind yourself for his slacks’ pocket. “Your cell phone, you said you brought it in, right?” You slide your hand down behind your back, right past his midriff, and grope around for the lifeline, palming at whatever you can reach. “Call Serizawa, he can exorcise that thing and let us out!”

Those gods must be laughing at him.

Abruptly, Reigen lurches his body aside, feebly trying to avoid your intrusive touch and acutely aware that his lie is about to be found out. “Stop,” he begs you softly, starting to panic himself. “Please. You gotta stop touching me or I’m gonna-” He drops his hands from your waist to grab yours where they rest, halfway into his pockets and you wrestle with him for a second to try and move him away. Reigen swears under his breath.

The proximity and your wriggling make a horrible, delicious concoction and his body reacts accordingly: Reigen is hard again. He can’t fight it anymore, not with your hands so close to his cock and your breath so hot against his cheek.

What happens next is a complete accident, an automatic move he makes before his brain catches up: Hands clamping down around your waist, Reigen purposefully rolls his hips into the soft curve of your ass, hard enough to gain the exact, exquisite friction that he’s been denying himself the entire time he’s been in here with you. Everything occurs so fast that he just about has time to clamp his hand over his mouth to stifle a pathetic little sob as he cums, hard, in his pants. He squeezes his eyes shut, stars blooming behind his eyelids, and pants desperately as he tries to catch his breath.

At his front, you’ve gone very still.

For a few minutes, no one speaks. Only Reigen’s ragged breathing and the sounds of birds somewhere way off beyond the confines of the house fill the silence, until you finally find your voice again: "Seriously?”

Reigen isn’t a stranger to making an idiot of himself, but this is definitely a new low for him. He knows how much trouble he’s going to be in when the two of you get out of here and he can practically smell the oncoming harassment lawsuit wafting through the stale air. Although, maybe that’s just the scent of his sweaty embarrassment….

Ever keen to save face though, Reigen does his best to play stupid. “What?” He asks, voice frayed at the edges.

“Did you just blow your fucking load-”

“Absolutely not-!”

“My ass is wet, Reigen,” you hiss. “I can feel it through my skirt!”

The thin material around the front of his slacks is soaked through, he knows you can. “No, it isn’t,” he scoffs, denying it without hesitation. “You’re imagining things.”

“Liar.” You tilt your hips back minutely, just enough to rub up on his spent erection, and Reigen breathes in sharply. “I didn’t realise you were so into ghouls and near death experiences,” you whisper, sounding amused in spite of your annoyance.

“It’s not a ghoul,” Reigen corrects automatically, mouth moving independently of his brain. He swallows thickly and shifts in place. “And even if something like that did happen,” he says, trying to sound dismissive. “It’s because you won’t stop moving, it’s only natural.”

“That’s… A pathetic excuse,” you admonish, head tipped back toward him. “Even for you.” Your tongue darts out to wet your lower lip, however in such close quarters, the motion effectively wets the corner of his, too. Hot spit brushes against his lip and Reigen’s mouth parts almost of its own accord, an automatic reaction to the stimulus. The angle is awkward but your mouths slide together, the slickness of the skin unbelievably arousing.

“S’not an excuse, it’s your fault.” Reigen protests weakly, lips catching against your own as you nudge your nose along his cheek. He knows he should really apologise for his indecency, that he should try to find a way out of this situation as quickly as possible, and yet…. That heavy, unspoken feeling that so often follows him around when he’s with you is filling up the interior of the closet like thick cotton wool. Your words are sharp and stinging, but you don’t seem to be as disgusted as you sound. It makes his head swim and his legs feel weak, and in some kind of unfortunate miracle, Reigen can feel his cock stir with interest again already.

“You’re really blaming it all on me? You’re the one who dragged me along to this and you’re the one who got us locked in this closet.” You laugh quietly under your breath at him, disbelieving and more than a little entertained. “God, you’re insufferable.” You press backward again and Reigen chokes back a whimper.

“I told you to stop-”

“Stop what, boss?” you ask, feigning innocence, and fuck does he hate how much you’re able to get under his skin. No one else toys with him like this, teases him. No one else dares to question his leadership or to wind him up until he explodes. No one else except you.

Reigen grits his teeth so hard he swears he feels them creak under the pressure. “If you don’t quit moving around like that, I’m not going to be held responsible for what I do next,” he grinds out. He knows you’re provoking him on purpose and he shouldn’t fall for it so easily, but he’s powerless like this and if there’s one thing Reigen hates; it’s feeling fucking powerless.

“Oh? And what are you going to do about it?” You ask, words heavy with ridicule. “Cum in your pants again?”

Reigen has had enough of your attitude.

“Fine,” he snaps. “You want to play dirty? Let’s see how you like it.” He’s been aching to touch you for so long; if this is the only chance he’s going to get, he’ll take it. Reigen isn’t one to watch opportunities pass him by. He wants to grope and grab and feel his way all over you, and he just doesn’t have the willpower in himself to resist it anymore, especially when you’re winding him up like this.

Reigen’s hands drop from where they hold your waist, inching to your hips and down to grope at your ass. It’s just like every wet dream he’s ever had about you; you’re stuck with nowhere to go, at his mercy as he touches and grabs whatever he can reach.

You breathe in sharply at his touch and your back arches, silently seeking his attention. “That’s so inappropriate,” you whisper, and he can hear the smirk in your voice. You don’t mean a word you’re saying. “I should report you.”

“Oh yeah? So do it,” he challenges, pawing at the curve of your backside greedily. “I’m sure they’d love to hear all about how you started it.” It feels like a dam has broken inside him, a flood that he’s held at bay for so long that it’s too overpowering to put a stop to now that it’s begun to overflow, and without your outright refusal, Reigen feels justified in his act. His hips rock forward again and he shudders, his own arousal not forgotten.

At his front, you snicker to yourself at his neediness to chase the feeling and he feels one of your arms snake upward to loop around his neck, your hand clutching at the back of his hair. The action prickles goosebumps along his skin.

“Fuck,” Reigen gasps as he moves, words tumbling out in soft pants. “You couldn’t just stay still, could you? Moving your ass like that, in your stupid fucking skirt and your stupid fucking stockings.” As his hips roll into you, his fingers travel to your skirt to find the tops of said lingerie and he runs his touch up the nearest strap of your garter belt.

You make a soft sound of surprise. “Stockings? How do you know I wear stock-”

Reigen pings the elastic, cutting off your words and making you gasp at the sensation, your fingers tugging at the strands of his hair. Reigen smirks, pleased to finally get the upper hand even if only for a moment. “I’ve seen them before, in the office- drives me fuckin’ crazy, ” he pants into your parted mouth. “Every time you bend over, your skirt is too short.”

“It is? I had no idea….” You pout, lower lip touching his. The words are faker than Reigen’s confidence and it makes him grin.

“I knew it,” he says, ego emboldened. “Tease.”

“Pervert,” you fire back with a smirk, legs opening a little wider as his curious hand trails up from the band of the lingerie toward your inner thigh.

“D’you wear them every day?”

“Only when I know we’ll be alone together,” you confess.

Something about your admission turns Reigen on even more. The thought that you’re only wearing them for him, for his attention, is mind blowing. He can imagine you slipping them on in the morning, thinking of him as you study yourself in the mirror before you leave for work. Reigen squeezes your ass again and uses the leverage to his advantage as he continues to work himself against you, head filled with the intimate images.

His fingers slip up your leg until they brush against the crotch of your underwear, the curve of your pussy hidden underneath. Much to his pleasant surprise, he notices that he’s not alone in his needy desire. He can feel that you’re similarly affected by the closeness, enough wetness seeping through the lacey fabric that he suspects you might have been aroused for just as long as he has. “Look at that,” Reigen teases softly, a smug grin spreading on his face. “Acting so high and mighty when you’re just as desperate for it.” He can’t deny the swell of narcissistic pride that rises in his chest; he’s making you wet. You. The object of his obsession, the person he’s only ever dreamt of having like this. It’s his touch that has you keening and sighing, even if you won’t admit it.

You scoff, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “Am not-!” Your protests are smothered in favour of a hushed groan as Reigen’s thick finger nudges past your underwear and slides easily up into your cunt, your wetness offering no resistance at all.

“You were saying?” Reigen smirks, slowly inching his finger in and out, bit by bit. You’re so warm and tight around him, hips grinding down, back and forth in time with his motions. Every movement has your ass rubbing on him and Reigen lets out a shaky sigh as he presses up to meet you.

His dick strains against the fabric and silently, he wishes he had the room to free himself and fuck you silly. Now that he doesn’t have to pretend to be anything but the perverted mess that he is, Reigen ruts against your ass like a dog in heat. The enclosed space feels stifling with both of your bodies heating it up, sweat pooling at the back of his collar as he works himself up all over again. He knows he'll look a mess by the time you both manage to escape this place.

You’ve begun to make pretty little sounds against his mouth, hushed moans mixing with his desperate pants as he works his finger inside you and it’s so obscene that Reigen almost finishes on the spot. You’re both making too much noise and at this rate, you’re at risk of getting killed if the spirit returns to find you both doing exactly what it had accused you of breaking in for. Reigen knows he needs to quieten down and find a way to shut you up, too. In the fraction of free space between you, he nuzzles his mouth to yours. Although what you’re engaged in is amorous enough, the gesture is so intimate in comparison that it makes his heart flutter. “Can I kiss you?” Reigen asks, surprisingly timid considering how vigorously he’s fucking your ass.

Debauched as you are, you roll your eyes. “Finally,” you murmur. “He asks.” You sound almost relieved by his request, as though you’ve been hoping he might offer such a thing, and Reigen grins to himself.

When he kisses you, it’s sloppy; messy, unskilled and full of spit. He licks his way into your mouth enthusiastically and sighs at the touch, a trembling breath that whistles through his nose and dampens the skin of your cheek. You grunt at the force but you allow him to continue, coaxing his tongue with your own in an attempt to slow him down. Reigen doesn’t listen. He’s too confident in his own ability to take advice from you and far too excited to calm himself down anymore.

Between your legs, he presses a second finger into you, relishing in your gasp of pleasure. You’re so wet that his palm is quickly becoming slick with your arousal as he pumps his fingers and Reigen relinquishes your mouth with a lewd smack. “Fuck, you’re really into this aren’t you?” He says, bumping noses with you. “So wet and-!” Reigen’s words end in a choked off moan as you let go of his hair and drop your hand to reach behind you, cupping his cock mid-thrust.

You grasp him firmly through his damp slacks and let him grind into your grip. “You’ve got a big mouth, Reigen,” you pant, teasing. “Someone ought to teach you how to use it.”

Your hand is all he needs. Reigen is too greedy to stop himself when he knows his end is near and even if he wanted to, he’s helpless to stop it. He ought to at least try and hold on, to make up for his earlier premature finale and prove that he’s good at this kind of thing so you’ll think he’s somewhat of a decent fuck and maybe even ask for it again, but he just can’t.

A tension builds in his lower stomach, red hot and carnal, and then he’s cumming all over again, spilling into his already-filthy underwear. Reigen shudders violently, seizing you in another clumsy kiss. He almost bangs heads with you as he attempts to cover the pathetic little moans that bubble up out of him by smothering them into your mouth. Reigen’s knees feel weak again and he slumps against the closet wall behind him, breathing hard and totally spent.

You tip back the short distance with him and laugh . “So soon? I was just starting to enjoy myself….”

The back of Reigen’s neck heats up and he curls his fingers. “Sounded like you were enjoying yourself plenty,” he snipes, out of breath but still able to find a sharp-tongued reply.

You choke on a moan and wiggle your ass to encourage him. “I could stand to enjoy myself a little bit more,” you say, cheeky.

Reigen grins. He might be selfish when it comes to his own pleasure, but he won’t leave you high and dry (or wet, as the case may be). “Relax,” he whispers against your ear, cocky now that he can have you at his mercy instead. “We’ve got plenty of time, you said so yourself, right?...”

•••••

In the end, it takes Serizawa three hours to come to your rescue. He exorcises the spirit and frees you both in under five minutes, and when you finally return back to the office, Reigen still has you clean under the sink before he lets you go home for the day.

reader during this fic like

#reigen arataka x reader #MP100 #Reigen x reader #self insert #reader fic #Reigen Arataka/reader #mob psycho 100 #mob psycho reigen #reigen arataka #reigen is gross #reader insert #interaction banners by cafekitsune #smut #reigen arataka x you #reigen arataka x y/n #i hope this is okay bc i hate it #they don't get it reigen im kostrafobic!!!!

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retroellie · 1 year

Text

Bloody mess

Summary: Period pains suck and Daryl only knows one way to help you

A/N: I'm on my period and very Horny for Daryl rn, so hey :) Have a acute little period smut. Also, i want to start writing blurbs because writing full fanfics is so time consuming and i have some many ideas but not enough time to write them yk? So, expect short fics coming up!!

Warnings: NSFW, Cunnilingus, period sex, blood and just gross descriptions

Word Count: 2.2K

You don’t know how you ended up in this situation, with your hands tangled in Daryl’s hair as he went to town between your thighs. You just came home from work to find the kids at Rositas house, the house was empty and the shower was basically calling for you. You were in extreme amounts of pain, you had gotten your period that morning and throughout work you were on the verge of just collapsing so all you wanted to do right now was lay in bed and hope the cramps stopped.

The nice hot shower you took helped some, the dull ache in your stomach ceased for only a couple minutes before it came back and twice as bad. You could do nothing else but put on some underwear with a huge pad and one of Daryl’s black shirts, just lay there until it felt better. You were laying there with your eyes shut and a hot water bottle on your stomach, it was useless even trying to sleep because the pain would wake you.

You thought all hope was lost until you heard the front door open, at first you thought it was the kids so you attempted to cover up some but the footsteps you heard were much heavier than your goofball niece and nephew. The footsteps go louder as they make their way into your room, the door creaking open to reveal the culprit of the noise. It was Daryl, he was coming home from a long day at work and he was exhausted to say the least.

The first thing he saw was you with a towel underneath you, a pair of black underwear and his shirt. At first he thought you were genuinely dying with how sickly you looked but he eased up when he saw your little eyes peek over at him and he saw you were just fine… maybe not fine but you were alive.

“Hey….” You said weakly, hand attempting to block out the sun from your eyes.

“Hey. Are you good?” He asked, making his way into the room fully to set his things down.

You shrugged, moving your body so you were laying flat on your back and you could get a better look at him. You weren’t sure why but the way his black shirt tightened around his chest and how his arms were far too big for it had your stomach fluttering. Maybe it was your hormones craving to be touched or it was simply exactly what Daryl did to you when he came home from work, all sweaty and worn down.

“Hmm, it’s my period. came early this time and it hurts like a bitch.” you replied, hand placing the hot water bottle on your stomach. The pressure of it slightly makes you wince.

Daryl felt terrible, he knew it wasn’t his doing but still hurt to see you in such pain. Not to mention Daryl had seen you take out hoards of walkers by yourself, he’s seen you get shot too many times and you can take a stab wound like it’s a simple scratch so seeing you like this… in pain and broken down simply because your body is fighting against you, Daryl feels awful. He didn’t know what to do to make you feel better but be there for you and even then, that won’t stop the pain.

However, Daryl sometimes hears his coworkers talk, although they talk in such disgusting ways about women he tends to take in the information and learn from it. One time he overheard his coworker saying how period cramps can be helped with orgasms, he’s not sure if that’s true or not but if it’s the only thing to help you in this moment… he’ll eat it like a hungry man. It’ll also benefit him, he loves coming home after a long day at work and just makeout with your pussy.

“‘M sorry bunny…” he said, climbing onto the bed below you and rubbing your feet comfortingly.

You smiled, hand still gripping onto the hot water bottle as it burned your skin. Daryl continued rubbing your feet, making his way to your calves and your tired knees. The warmth of his fingers felt nice, the roughness of them giving you a slight tingle that led to your heart. You closed your eyes, taking in the pleasure of being touched.

“Ya know I heard orgasms help cramps.” He stated, causing you to let out a laugh.

You weren’t expecting it, it was random and caught you off guard. You guys had sex a lot, any chance you got Daryl would be inside of you but you never let him do anything to you in your period. Not that you think Daryl would care but it was messy and you were honestly embarrassed by it, I mean you literally have blood coming out of your vagina… you don’t expect him to want to get all bloodied up for you. You thought he was kidding but the look on his face was serious.

“Really?” You asked, sitting up on your elbows to face him.

“Yeah, why not.” He stated.

You furrowed your brows, cocking your head to the side like that was the most goofiest thing you had ever heard anyone say. Daryl just ran his hand closer and closer to your underwear, hinting at what he wanted. You obviously didn’t stop him but you did recoil back abit, your thighs slowly inching together as he got higher and higher.

“Ya don’t have to do anything’, just sit back and look pretty for me.” He grinned, watching your facial features change as his arousing words sent shivers down your spine.

“But it’s gonna be messy…” you said, hesitating on whether you wanted to do this or not.

Daryl gave you the stupidest face you’ve ever seen a person give you, he looked to say “really you dumb bitch.” With only his eyes. You were serious though, you were honestly hesitant because you were embarrassed by it.

“When has a little blood ever stopped me??” He asked, his face still with that stupid look on it.

Daryl has been bloodied before, so bloody you couldn’t even recognize him and every time you could end up fucking him silly. This way you can get him all bloody without the harm towards him plus you could ease up those fucking cramps you were experiencing.

You opened your legs again, inching open so Daryl knew he had the right away. As soon as Daryl even thought you were giving him the okay he did not hesitate in getting started immediately. He damn near ripped your panties off, seeing your cunt glistening with a mixture of blood and your wetness. Daryl has eaten cooked dogs before and even fucking worms so he was going to eat you like a fucking steak dinner.

He sat on his knees above you, stripping himself of his vest and his shirt attempting to throw them on the dresser but missing completely. As he did so his eyes were trained on your cunt, he was so ready for it and he was so excited that you actually let him do so. He then bent down, eye to eye with your cunt as he slowly started kissing his way up to it. He kissed the insides of your thighs, not leaving a single spot unmarked, he even left a hickey here and there.

Your legs were already shaking, mostly with excitement but nervousness was also seeking through your body but you didn’t feel it for long before Daryl shoved his face in your pussy. It was so unexpected that you let out almost a pornographic moan causing Daryl to chuckle on your pussy. He started slowly, lapping up the blood that was seeping out of you slowly. You could already feel your cramps stop, instead your stomach was filled with a knot that was deep inside you.

Daryl licked up your cunt, teasing your clit as he licked anywhere but the bundle of nerves. His hands held down your thighs as they started to close around his head, giving him a perfect angle to eat your pussy nice and right. Daryl had all day to make you feel good and he was going to use it all up, hoping that maybe the neighbors could hear your pleas and moans.

“Daryl…” you moaned, the words basically imprinted on your tongue from how often you say it.

He was only egged on by your moans, his lips suckled down on your clit. You were right when you said it was going to be messy, the white towel you had placed down is now red, Daryl’s upper half is soaked with your blood and his hair was covered in it too. You got so lost in lust and pleasure that you didn’t care about the mess anymore, you just grabbed a fist full of his hair and pushed him closer onto you.

Daryl’s tongue continued lapping at gout pussy, sucking and licking until you were going completely insane. His hands made their way up to your tits, lifting up his black shirt you wore to squeeze the flesh that was there. You were getting lost in ecstasy, so high in the clouds that you forgot you were even bleeding in the first place. That was Daryl’s plan all along, making sure you forgot how your body was literally shedding itself of old tissue, which honestly fascinated the hell out of Daryl.

“M so close Daryl…” you moaned, gripping onto his hair harder.

Daryl looked up, peeking up to see you high in the clouds. Your back was arched, your eyes shut tightly and your hand making sure his hands stayed massaging your tits. He thought you looked so beautiful, so angelic and so fucking sexy, he could stay like this forever if you’d only let him. Daryl knew how to make you cum and he knew how to do it well too so he took his free hand and stuffed two fingers inside you, pumping them in and out while his tongue worked in your clit.

The knot in your stomach grew tighter, becoming so unbelievably tight it became so uncomfortable as if you didn’t cum it would quite literally kill you. Your hips started to grind against his face, holding his head in place as you did so. His nose was now deep inside your slit, his tongue still lapping your bloody cunt and his fingers going at a slow and teasing pace.

“fuck… shit…. Daryl I’m cumming!!” You screamed, his actions only picking up in pace.

Just then the knot in your stomach exploded, your juices spilling out of you, mixing in with your blood. You continued to grind on his face, this time your thrust was jagged and jumpy. Daryl tongue fucked you through your orgasm, shoved his fingers in and out of you even through your walls were contracting against them. You came with a loud scream, sounding as though you had been being murdered.

After your hips had stopped bucking violently and the only thing you felt now was the soft aftershocks of the mind shattering orgasm, leaving your body shaking softly, Daryl was working his tongue on you still. He lapped up all the blood and cum that had been left behind, taking it all in and tasting the metallic sweet taste it left behind. You were sensitive now, overstimulated and every time his tongue touched your sensitive bud, your hips would jolt up and your thighs would attempt to close.

When Daryl was finally done with you, making sure your cunt was clean and rid of all juices, he pulled away from you. His face was dripping with you, blood marked his entire face almost and it was damn near dripping off of him. You looked into his lust blown blue eyes, seeing his softness in them which honestly turned you in more. He just did the most disgusting thing and his eyes are still so soft when they look at you, how can someone so rough and scary be so angelic to you.

You don’t know what came over you but for some reason you had the violent urge to kiss his bloodied lips. You sat up still looking him right in the eyes as you grabbed him by his face and pulled him into a rough kiss. You could taste yourself on his lips, lapping your juices up and taking them into your own mouth. Most would be disgusted at what you were doing, all of this would be horrific to them but not you. You found what he did so fucking attractive and he did it all for you, well maybe his self just a little.

“Do you feel better?” He said pulling away from you, seeing how your face was now covered with your own blood. You just smiled up at him, leaving soft kisses along his jaw.

“I mean for the most part… I think I might need another orgasm though.” You joked, sucking and licking at his neck now.

Daryl chuckled lowly, eyes closing as you created small love bites on his neck. You wanted him more than ever now and he was gladly going to give you everything your little heart desired. He just pulled you off of him, laying you down so your head hit the pillows and readied himself for the long, messy night that was to come.

“Anything for my bunny” he said before moving in between your legs once again, ready to overstimulate and fuck you until you were begging him to stop.

#daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #darly dixon #the walking dead

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