#it's.....the attention. the approval. the doin what i feel i should be doin but for him instead of the person who hurt us irl

[kindacreepy-kindaugly]

N I guess it's cause of him bein how we try to make sense of whatever happened that thinkin about it makes me wanna run back to him

#also maybe. him so we don't ever feel that way abt who it was back then #cause no matter what he does to me it's still safer cause it's only inside our head #n it shouldn't even be smth that needs sayin cause it's puttin the bar so fucking low but #he's also just. better than whoever it was. cause he'd never put his hands on a fucking kid. it's the only hard line he draws for himself #or i mean it doesn't even need drawin he's disgusted by just the thought. the way y'know any normal decent person would be #n i know it rly fucks w/ him that he's introjected stuff from someone like that #he just tries to ignore it n leans into the source stuff instead #so w/ the way i feel scared right now....he feels like someone safe. i know he's not rly but. #it's.....the attention. the approval. the doin what i feel i should be doin but for him instead of the person who hurt us irl #my head hurts #i think maybe for tonight he'll protect me. cause he doesn't wanna be compared to that person ever. so i think he wouldn't do anything rn #it's probably not a smart idea cause it'll still mess w/ my head trick me into thinkin i can trust him but...everything's too fucking much #n i feel like i need to make sure i'm right about him. that just knowing who's role he'd be playin will make him not wanna do anything #i need to know #spdrvent

[sentientcave]

Retirement Party

Price has retired from Military life, and he's not handling the change well. But on the one year anniversary of him hanging it up, his boys bring him something special to help keep him busy. You.

Chapter Two - An Understanding

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Contains: No Y/N, Kidnapping, Forcible relocation, Generally creepy behaviour, Alcohol mention, Smoking mention (Tobacco), I guess this might count as human trafficking?, Dubcon everything because Reader is terrified (non-sexual), plus-sized reader, fem/afab reader, There is something fucking wrong with these guys for real, More reader details given, but we're still pretty vague about it. Even though it is hard for me. No promises for future chapters though.

~3.8k - MDNI - Dark fic! Please mind the content warning above

The captain looks at you for a long moment, dark blue eyes wide with surprise as he takes you in. You have to admit that he’s handsome, dark brown hair and well-groomed facial hair (muttonchops, no less) flecked with silver, and a nice nose that skews to the large side. It gives him a friendly, approachable demeanour, despite the weight of his stare. His heavy attention shifts from you to the other three, and his expression turns serious. “Lads,” he says, his voice a rumble that you can feel through your own body. “Please tell me this isn’t what it looks like.”

“Weeeel. It might be,” Johnny says apprehensively. “But I did my research, sir. She’ll be perfect for ye, ye’ll see.”

“She’s a good girl,” Ghost adds. “Sweet as can be. Won’t be any trouble for you.”

“Already moved her in and everything.” Gaz gestures around the room, looking rather too proud of their work.

The captain nods slowly, taking in the new additions to the space. “So you did. And did this pretty little thing agree to having her life upended, or did you lads just decide for her?” His arms shift around you, and you feel almost protected, oddly enough, even though by the size of him, he’s just as dangerous as the others. Probably even more dangerous, the way they defer to him, standing in a line like cadets, eager for his approval.

“Not… Not exactly,” Gaz admits. “I mean, we didn’t ask. But this’ll be better for her. She was living in a real rat hole before. Tiny little apartment in a shite neighbourhood. Was only a matter of time before something bad happened. We’re just looking out for her.”

Johnny shuffles his feet. “Dealt with a few neds while I was doin’ reconnaissance, even. Poor lass coulda been in real trouble if I hadna been there. Bawbag employers would ask her to stay past the last bus to watch the bairns an’ no’ even offer her a ride or ta pay fer a cab.”

“It wasn’t that far a walk,” you protest, glaring at Johnny. As if it’s any of his business. “And they did offer to drive me, I just wasn’t— It doesn’t matter! You had no right—”

The captain shushes you, and your words wither on your tongue, your cheeks turning hot under his stern blue gaze. He cups your jaw and turns your head to face him again, the rough pad of his thumb stroking your cheek gently. “Sweetheart, you and I will talk in a moment. Soap’s right about that not bein’ safe, and you know it.”

Your stomach flutters nervously. He gives you a little smile, and his crow’s feet deepen, the lines fanning out further. There’s a moment where you’re tempted to smile back, but his legs shift under you, and you wince sympathetically instead. “Sorry, I should get off of you,” you say quickly. “I’m heavy.”

“I won’t stop you if you’d like to sit somewhere else,” he says, that cheeky smile deepening more. "But you’re not heavy, and I'd like it if you stayed put."

"Told ye he'd like her," Johnny whispers, loud enough that it shatters the isolated pocket of reality that, for a moment, housed only you and the captain. "Hasna even introduced himself an' he's flirtin' like mad."

"Soap!" Gaz hisses back. "Shut up."

Ghost scruffs them both. "Let's finish getting dinner on. Give 'em a minute to talk."

Johnny grins at you and gives you two thumbs up as he circles around to the kitchen, as if you’d actually been a willing participant in all of this.

"I'm John, by the way," the captain says, calling your attention back to him. He drops his hand and settles it on your knee, his fingers curling around the joint. "You alright, doll?"

A loaded question. "Well. Not really."

"You're keepin' it together real nicely, all considered. Wouldn't blame you if you were hissin' and scratching."

"I'm not much of a fighter," you admit. "And even if I was, I don't think it would do me much good."

John chuckles, squeezing your knee lightly. He's gentle, but there's power in those hands, the kind that comes from years of hard work. There's scars all over it, from his the tips of his calloused fingers up to the leather band of his watch, etched in evidence of violence. If there are scars further up his arms, their hidden by the buffalo plaid flannel. "No, it probably wouldn't."

"Are you going to let me go home?" you ask.

He sighs. "The thing is, doll, the boys have put me in an awkward spot here. If I let you go on home, you're going to get them in trouble, and I don't want to see that happen."

"I promise, I won't say anything, I just--"

He shushes you again, and you shut your mouth, biting your lip. "Let me finish, sweetheart. You're being so good right now because you're scared. But that's not gonna last, is it? And worse, it sounds like you don't really have much to go back to."

"I'll find a new job. I always do."

"With another family who doesn't appreciate the work you put in? That doesn't make you feel safe?" His fingertips toy with the edge of your skirt absently, but his eyes are on your face, studying your reaction with rapt attention. This is how a rabbit must feel, pinned under the stare of a grizzly bear, frozen in place and hoping that no claws come down on top of it. "I can read between the lines, doll. That man you were workin' for made you feel so uncomfortable that you'd rather walk through a bad neighbourhood at night than get into a car with him alone."

You can't dispute it, although you're surprised he can glean so much information from half an outburst. "It wasn't like that-- He wasn't that bad."

John hums. "You're tellin' me you've had worse?"

A dozen jobs with a dozen managers or coworkers that took your silence as permission to stand too close, or put their hands on you flash across your mind. Mr. Kinsey was just the latest of many. You know that the thought is displayed on your face, from the way his eyebrows pinch together just slightly, not angrily, but concerned. You try to deflect with a little laugh. "Oh, well. I suppose I have. But hasn't everyone?"

"Soap had a bad lieutenant once and locked the man in his own car when he was just a private. Just because you have a bad boss doesn't mean you have to take it." He looks at you so seriously as he speaks, his fingers dancing distracting circles against the top of your knee, rough fingertips catching on the nylons just slightly. The heat from the arm curled around your waist bleeds through the fabric of your dress, his hand twitching slightly, like all he wants to do is take a handful of soft flesh. “You should speak up when you’re not comfortable, doll. You just need some practice standin’ up for yourself, don’t you?”

If a statement could have teeth, this one would, and you’re not sure if agreeing or disagreeing will have him closing his jaws around you. He’s probably right, you do need to do a better job of standing up for yourself. But you’re certain that he doesn’t want you to start by standing up to him, or his three attack dogs either. “I’ll work on it,” you say meekly. You test his commitment to the statement by gently picking his hand off of your knee, although there’s nowhere to really put it either.

“We’ll work on it,” he agrees, lacing your fingers together. When he rests your now-entwined hands, it’s a little further up your thigh. “You want a drink, darlin’?”

“Oh, um, no thank you.” You wouldn’t mind another tea, but you don’t think that’s what you’re being offered.

The scrutiny he puts you under is intense, like he’s determined to figure out what every microscopic shift in your expression might mean. “You sure, doll? You gotta ask if you want somethin’, or you won’t get it.”

“I would like a tea. But I can make it, I don’t want to be trouble.”

“Nonsense. Lads?” he tips his head back slightly.

“On it, sir,” Gaz replies cheerfully.

Ghost leans over the back of the couch to hand John a tumbler. Whiskey or scotch, by the sharp smell that hits you. John pulls his hand away from yours to accept the glass. “Thank you, Simon,” he says pleasantly. "Good lad."

“S’your party, sir. An’ you’re busy, ain’t you?” Ghost rests his hands on the back of the couch and studies the pair of you, dark eyes gleaming with pride. The man has the demeanour of a cat that’s brought in a helpless little bunny to his master, while it’s still alive and struggling.

“Gettin’ to know our pretty guest.” John smiles at you over the rim of his glass as he takes a sip. “She’s a sweet girl.”

“Isn’t she just?”

“Could I, um, sit over there?” you ask, glancing at the chair. Somehow John had managed to distract you from the idea of moving for a while, but you were still eager to get a little space from him, especially with Ghost looming over both of you.

“Of course, sweetheart,” John’s arm loosens, and you quickly get up and move to the chair.

You almost feel cold, without the heat that radiates off of his body. His attention feels weightier now too, or maybe it’s just that his body isn’t shielding the stares from Johnny, Gaz and Ghost, and you’re subjected to all four of them watching you, like you’re either fascinating or delicious (or both). You cross your arms over your chest and shrink into yourself as much as possible, eyes wide.

"Here's yer tea, hen. And may I just say, ye've go' a fantastic rack from this angle." Johnny hands you the mug and sits on the arm of the chair, leaning over you. "Weel. Ye've go' a nice rack from any angle. Nice arse too. Captain's lucky I like him so much, or I'd've gone for you myself."

You breathe in steam, wrinkling your nose slightly. It doesn't smell quite right. "Did you put something in this?"

"Aye. Finger of whiskey. Ye look all stiff and peaky still. Need a pick me up, don't ya?"

You look at him reproachfully. He sighs and plucks the tea from your hands and takes a big sip. "There's nothin' else in there, if that's what yer askin', ye suspicious wee daftie. A little whiskey ne'er hurt no one." He hands the mug back to you, smile crooked, doing his best to be charming, but he's too intense, too fervent, to be anything but unsettling.

“Got Johnny checkin’ everythin’ for poison, do you?” Ghost asks, chuckling. “Can’t say I blame you.” He nudges John with the back of his hand. “She’s smart, worth keepin’ an eye on that. Know’s ‘ow to ‘old ‘er tongue, but she’s listenin’ and payin’ attention.”

“Of course she is! Wouldna choose a lass withoot a brain in her head. Wouldna be worth the captain’s time. Weel, maybe worth a wee bit of time.” He winks down at you. “But no’ wife material, ye ken. Chose her because she’s delightful, no’ just ‘cause she’s bonnie.”

The few times you’d spoken to Johnny before you’d thought that he was so nice. Laughing and joking with you in the pick up line while you waited for the children you were respectively responsible, greeting his niece and nephew with big smiles. And Finn and Rory were always so excited to see him, you’d chalked him up as harmless. Clearly you hadn’t been paying enough attention then, too focused on the Kinsey kids and your job, maybe. You hadn’t noticed that he was appraising you like a piece of livestock, judging your value like you’d been put up to auction.

The whisky-fortified tea is a bit on the strong side, but you take a few sips anyway. Getting drunk would be unwise, but you’re so tense that your whole body is starting to ache, and that’s not doing you any good either.

“Dinner’s ready,” Gaz announces, untying his kiss the cook apron and setting it on the counter. “Hope you’re hungry. Soap made a cake earlier too.”

John raises an eyebrow. “You can bake?” he asks, surprised.

“Aye, picked it up while I was gettin’ rehabbed for the big fuck-off hole in my head,” he replies airily. “Was goin’ mental putterin’ around Kirsty’s waitin’ for the bairns to get out of school, so Ah picked it up. Isnae so hard. Just chemistry, aye?”

“He did make a big mess,” Gaz says. “Had to wash about fifty dishes before I could get started on dinner.”

“Everyone’s a fuckin’ critic,” Johnny complains. “See if I bake ye a cake for yer birthday, Garrick. Ye’ll be sorry then.”

“Oh no, how will I survive?” Gaz clutches his chest like he’s deeply wounded by the statement, laughing. “I have two mums, I’m still pretty much guaranteed a cake.”

“Always braggin’ abou’ that. Thinks he’s more evolved than the rest of us just because his da’s a woman.” He hovers next to you as you get up, and sticks close as you walk over to the table. You don’t choose a seat, in case there’s an order to things you’re not aware of.

“Pretty sure the whole point is that he dun’t ‘ave a dad,” Ghost says. “Now sit down, mutt. Yer not sittin’ next to the bird. You’re botherin’ ‘er.” He points at a chair, and Johnny sighs and slinks into it.

“Here, sweetheart,” John says, putting his big hand on your back to guide you the last few steps and directing you to a seat. He slides the chair in for you too, masquerading as a gentleman, and sits next to you.

Gaz settles in on your other side, all smiles. “Feeling better?”

They keep asking you how you are, as if the answer is going to change. Like all you need to adjust to the reality of being kidnapped and relocated to some stranger’s house in the country is a little time. Like you’re going to be just fine, if you just get a few more minutes to adjust. “Not really.”

"Ah, don't worry, doll. Captain's gonna be real good to you. You'll get there soon enough. Probably'll feel better once you've had a proper meal."

At least they don't try to make you talk much at the table. They fall into easy conversation between them, and let you eat roasted chicken and potatoes and carrots with some kind of sweet and mildly spicy glaze. Ghost pulls the mask down to eat, so you're able to watch when he goes slightly pink from what barely qualifies as spice. Gaz gives you a little side-long glance, and you almost laugh. There's some solidarity to be had, even in a situation like this one, something funny about how a little more spice could probably straight up kill the other three men at the table. Maybe that would be the key to you freedom: Murdering John by feeding him something full of chilies.

Admittedly, you do feel begrudgingly more charitable towards them after eating. You could maybe blame it on the tea too, which, against your better judgment, you do end up finishing.

John stops you from helping clean up when you stand automatically and try to stack Gaz's empty plate with your own. "No, sweetheart. C’mere." He guides you to the door and out into the chilly evening air. You wish that Ghost had let you put on a sweater over your summery dress, but he had been so keen to show you off, and you’d been too scared to insist. You curl your arms around yourself for warmth, and keep quiet, watching as John trims and lights a cigar, looking out into the darkness beyond the porch.

Fear has morphed from pressing terror to something that gnaws at you from the pit of your stomach. You could try to run for it, but you’d probably roll your ankle wearing the stupid red heels, and you have no real idea where you are, or how far you are from someone who could help you. Outrunning John would be a feat anyway. He’s older than you, but he’s in better shape, nearly perfect shape, broad and strong, that long military career not yet forgotten.

There’s a bench by the door, so you sit down to take the heels off. You’re not used to wearing them, it’s so rare that you have anywhere to go that calls for spicier footwear than your comfortable, worn in trainers.

“Here.” John slides his flannel shirt off and drapes it over your shoulders, and kneels down in front of you, cigar clamped in his mouth, pulling your heels off for you. Smoke curls around you for a moment, thin and blue in the scant light, before a breeze carries it away. He leans on his one leg and studies you, but he doesn’t stand. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

You put your arms through the sleeves of the flannel, humming noncommittally. You know you’re pretty enough, by most standards, but you feel like his interest— And the interest of the other three— is disproportionate, too intense.

“I’d like you to stay a while, doll,” he continues. “I won’t force you, I’m not that kind of man, but I’d have a hard time letting you go back to living paycheck to paycheck in a bad nieghbourhood, workin’ for creeps that don’t know how to keep their hands to themselves. You deserve better than that.” It’s as though he doesn’t even hear his own words though, or imagines himself better, because he absently runs his hands over your calf, squeezing the tense muscle gently.

“I have to work,” you protest, biting back a moan. You didn’t need to encourage him, even if you weren’t quite brave enough (or willing) to stop him. “I have student loans, and I send money to my lola in Vigan. I can’t afford to just disappear off the face of the earth.”

He nods thoughtfully. “How much?”

"Three hundred pounds a month to Lola. I know it might not seem like a lot, but it goes a lot further there."

"And the student loans?"

"Sixteen thousand. Not that much, I worked through my degree, and I inherited a bit of money from my parents. But I still have to--"

"I'll pay for both. You'll stay until you find a good job, and a safer apartment." He says it like it's a final edict, no room for argument.

You pull your leg out of his grip, tucking both further back under the bench. "No, John, I don't want to owe you either--"

"You won't. My boys kidnapped you and disrupted your whole life. I'd pay a lot more if it keeps you from going to the police over it. Least I can do is make sure you're better off when you do leave here, hm?"

You bite your lip. Starting over with a clean slate is tempting, but you're not sure you can trust John. He seems so earnest, blue eyes clear and guileless, but he can't be much better than the other three. Unless he was just holding their leashes tight as their captain, and had to let them loose when he retired.

"Can I think about it?" you ask.

"Of course." He puts his hand on your knee to steady himself as he leans across to ash the cigar in the ashtray that sits on a little table next to the bench. "But I think you'll say yes. You're a smart girl, hm?"

You're tempted to say no, just to test weather or not he's being honest about not forcing you to stay, but there's a niggling worry in the back of your mind that the veneer of civility will evaporate if you push him on it. He's nice enough now. And maybe that niceness isn't a show, maybe he has no darker side, maybe it's all just paranoia on your part. Perhaps the worst thing about him is his predilection to protect his "boys", even though all three are clearly insane.

Military is like that, isn’t it? The whole brotherhood thing? Maybe fighting for your life beside someone changes how you see them forever.

“How long did you all serve together?” you ask. “Johnny mentioned that he was SAS before— I asked about the scar once.” You tap the side of your head, the same spot where Johnny has a nasty bullet scar.

“Long time. Hand-picked Gaz and Soap for my taskforce about ten years back. Simon and I served together longer. He’s a captain now, even if the lads still call him LT. They’re both lieutenants, and Gaz’ll be a captain himself before long. Probably would’ve been already if he’d transferred out of the 141.” He gets up with a grunt and settles onto the bench beside you. “Don’t think Simon’s long for it. He’s only still in because he wants to keep an eye on Soap. Man’s a bloody romantic. Live together or die together.”

“I didn’t realize that they were together at all.”

“The way Soap’s been droolin’ all over you, I’m not surprised.” He puffs on his cigar thoughtfully. “But Simon’s just like that, as far as I can tell. The world’s divided into three categories. Enemies, his people, and everyone else. Enemies ‘n’ everyone else can’t touch what’s his, but he’s never given a damn about Soap sleepin’ with Gaz, or me.”

“I’m not his people.”

John looks at you and shakes his head. “Course you are, doll. You’re one of our people now. They might’ve gotten a bit overzealous, bringing you here the way they did, but those lads would do anything you asked of ‘em now.”

A bit overzealous. You laugh, but the sound comes out bitter.

"Relax, doll. I know you're determined to hate them, but they're good lads. Their hearts are in the right place." He pets a big hand over your head and rests it on the back of your neck, warmth seeping into your bones, relieving some of the ache from all the tension of the day. John has a way of soothing that terrified little animal in your chest that would otherwise threaten to kick it’s way free from your ribs and flee into the dark trees. “Lookin’ out for me, in their own way. Lookin’ out for you too. If your situation was a better one, they wouldn’t’ve plucked you out of it like that.”

There’s hope in his eyes when you look up at him, hope that you’ll forgive and forget, that you’ll come around to some kind of understanding in time. His thumb brushes a sensitive spot behind your ear, sending an awful, irrefutable thrill through you.

You’re worried that he might be right.

My favourite John Price to write is the sneakiest, most charming, manipulative bastard on the planet. I definitely take a lot of inspiration from 391780 's portrayal of him. The Rear Window and Neighborly have been forefront in my mind while working on this (Largely because I think my John would have taken a similar approach if the lads hadn't jumped the gun. The Rear Window is dark, so be warned! Early writes delicious dark fics, but that may not be everyone's cup of tea, so mind the tags.)

Image Credits: Banner

Dividers: 1 - 2 - 3 by @/Cafekitsune

#Retirement Party #Chapter 2 baybeee #Doll is coming to terms with the weirdest situation she's ever been in #cod mw fanfiction #John Price x Reader #x reader #Some hints of Poly 141 (I think it'll crop up properly later on) #Gaz wearing his kiss the cook apron wondering why Doll's not kissing him ): (It's because you kidnapped her) #Johnny never change baby boy you're a dog and we love that about you

[sassycheesecake]

Osamu Miya x wife!Reader "The Green-Eyed Monster"

“What’s he doin’ here?” A very tired Osamu irritably asks, as he spots his twin brother bawling his eyes out in front of you on the dining table.

You turn to your husband with an apologetic look on your face.

“Tsumu’s girlfriend dumped him because he was moving too fast into the relationship for her liking.” You explain.

Osamu’s eyes find his brother’s slumped figure over the table, sighing heavily before mentioning you to follow him into your shared bedroom with a motion of his head.

“Atsumu, I will be right back okay?” You assure him, feeling bad that he barely acknowledges your words, his empty gaze with red eyes trained on his hot chocolate mug that you previously prepared for him.

Walking into the direction of your bedroom, you see Osamu already starting to undress out of his uniform, turning to you, as you walk in and close the door.

“(Y/N) this is now the third time he came over cuz some chick dumped ‘im. And it’s only been five months. Don’t let ‘im in every time just cuz he’s my brother and ya feel bad for ‘im.” Putting his dirty clothes in the hamper, he walks toward the closet, picking out fresh clothes to put on after his shower.

“I know you don’t like it when he comes over unannounced but Samu, I can’t help but try to cheer him up. You know that he has trouble maintaining friends and we live closest to him.”

Osamu sighs at your statement, being tired after a full day at his restaurant is making him more irritated than usual.

“I can’t even remember the last time we had sum time ta ourselves (Y/N). He’s always here, almost hoggin’ all of yer attention just cuz some meaningless fling decided ta dump his stupid ass.” His tone starts to get angry, taking his clothes to walk into the direction of the bathroom to take a shower.

Reflecting his words, you start to get a bit angry as well.

“Well what do you want me to do Osamu? Slam the door in his face? If I remember correctly when we first started dating, YOU were the one worried that Atsumu wouldn’t approve of me and NOW you’re telling me he is ‘hogging all of my attention’?! What are you? 5?”

Ignoring you, he walks past you and slams the door of the bathroom a little bit and you soon hear the shower running.

‘Sigh, the famous Miya temper.’

Rubbing your temples, you walk back into the kitchen to see Atsumu putting his mug into the sink, grabbing his jacket from the chair with a blank expression.

“You’re leaving already? Do you want to stay over?” You ask in a quiet voice.

He shakes his head, looking at you with a hurting expression.

“No. Wouldn’t wanna hog yer attention for more than necessary.”

So he heard your argument.

Before you can retort anything, a loud booming noise interrupts you first, along with a heavy pattern of rain against your windows.

The sudden noise makes you flinch and Atsumu looks outside to see the horrible weather.

Looking at the time, it’s already past 11 p.m.

“Come on Atsumu, I think it’s better if you stay over. Don’t mind what Osamu said, he’s just tired after work. It’s late and the weather is horrible. Just stay in the guest room, I don’t feel comfortable sending you on your way in this weather.” You try to convince him.

The blonde shrugs, very quietly saying ‘okay’ that you can barely hear it.

Stepping down to the familiar direction of the guest bedroom, Atsumu steps inside and you follow him in.

The Setter doesn’t even undress, just walks to the bed and lays down on it to stare at the ceiling.

You sit down on the side of the bed, talking to him in an almost motherly gentle voice.

“Atsumu don’t take what Osamu said too hard, you know how he is when he is extremely tired. And about that girl, I know it’s not my place to say but don’t you think you should heal properly first before jumping into the next relationship?”

The sandy-blond turns to his side with his back now facing you.

Sighing in defeat, you begin to get up when his rough voice interrupts your actions.

“(Y/N), do you think I will ever find someone like you and Samu found each other?”

Halting your actions, you sit down again.

“Well, I am sure you will find your soulmate eventually. I mean with me and Samu, we just met and it immediately clicked.” You smile as you recall the funny way you and Osamu met.

You were driving in your car on your way to work to ‘Colors Of The Wind’, which is a local art shop that sells art equipment and all different colors in different utensils.

Singing along to ‘River’ by Ed Sheeran and Eminem, you don’t see a spider slowly making its way over your dashboard, not having a care in the world.

When you are about to change the song, you see the little creature of hell getting closer to you.

Screaming in fear, you move your steering wheel, crashing right into a dark gray car, whose owner has the same metallic eyes and even darker hair.

Having a small fight over the damage, you explained to the good-looking stranger that you screamed over a spider and he laughed so hard that he had tears in his eyes.

Exchanging numbers to the repair of the damage, you stayed in contact and here you are today. Married for three amazing years already.

“Tomorrow will be a better day, okay? How about I make you some gohan along with yakizakana?” You suggest to Atsumu before you leave him be.

“Will ya also make yer vanilla puddin’?” The Setter mumbles back with a little gleam in his eyes when he turns a bit to watch you.

Giggling at his request like a shy little kid asking for his favorite ice cream, you agree to make your vanilla pudding as well that he loves so much.

“Good night Tsumu, try to sleep a little bit.”

“Night (Y/N).”

Leaving the room, you close the door and put the dishes in the dishwasher before returning to your bedroom where you know Osamu will be.

Slowly opening the door, you see your husband leaning against the headboard, a small frown decorates his usual carefree face.

When you enter, he starts talking without looking at you.

“Can ya sit down please?”

Following his request, you lay in bed with him, leaning against the headboard with your shoulder, so you face him sideways.

Taking a deep breath, he looks at you with deep apologetic eyes and also a small hint of hurt.

“Baby I’m sorry for the way I was actin’ earlier. It was childish and unfair. I love ya so much and I love the way yer takin’ care of my brother.”

“Then why were you so upset?” You ask in confusion.

Osamu looks away from you with a pout, mumbling something that you couldn’t make out.

You lean a bit closer.

“What was that?”

He turns his face back, staring at the ceiling, saying it again but louder.

“I was jealous over yer attention on ‘im. I had a shit day at work today and I just wanted yer cuddles and kisses. When I saw that scrub in the kitchen, it made me more mad. I shouldn't have let my anger out on ya. ‘M sorry baby.”

Smiling at his words, you come closer to your husband to give him comforting kisses along his cheeks.

Sighing in bliss he lets you do as you please.

Stopping right by his ear, you whisper seductively.

“Want some make up sex and then you can vent to me about your day?”

Osamu turns to you with an excited look, quickly pushing you down to lay on top of you.

Giggling in delight, you let the former Opposite Hitter ravish you half the night.

The next morning

The smell of steamed rice and cooked fish is what rips Atsumu out of his dream of defeating Thanos, stretching his limbs and rubbing his tired face.

Remembering that you cooked for him this morning, he gets up very excited like a kid getting to open Christmas presents early and almost sprints out of the room.

Quickly slamming on the brakes what he sees on the counter, his stomach begins to get nauseous at the open PDA between his twin brother and you.

You’re sitting on the counter and have your legs wrapped around Osamu’s waist, your arms crossed around his neck.

The ravenette’s hands rest on either side of your thighs, lips locked together with yours as your husband passionately makes out with you, unaware of his sandy-blond twin.

“Really? That early in the mornin’? That’s gross.” The Setter says in disgust as he leans against the kitchen frame.

Letting go of you, Osamu turns fully around to look at his brother, with you leaning over his shoulders and his neck to look at Atsumu with a flushed face.

“Well scrub, get yerself a girlfriend or boyfriend, then ya will have this too.”

“Fuck ya and yer happiness, Samu.”

“It ain’t my fault that I have the perfect woman and ya don’t. Yer shitty personality drives them all away.”

“Ya know what ya little shithead-“ you interrupt before it escalates into a physical fight like the last million times.

“Okay, okay enough. Let’s eat together. I am not ready to deal with this without food in my stomach.”

Hopping down from the counter, you see the twin brothers glaring at each other.

“Samu, Tsumu, stop it. I mean it.” You threaten them.

The ravenette snaps out of it, looking a little bit scared at your scowling face.

Atsumu claims the small victory in his head of the stare off and almost starts drooling at the sight of the food at the table.

Calming down, the three of you sit down and enjoy the food.

“Itadakimasu.” The three of you say in sync, digging in.

The Setter looks in bliss when he chows down the food, already in a lot better mood than last night.

“So, when are ya guys givin’ me nieces and nephews?” He asks with a teasing smirk.

Osamu starts to choke after that, with you shaking your head at Atsumu, padding your husband on the back and waiting for him to calm down.

Not even five minutes later, you hum as you clean the dishes, while ignoring your husband choking and fighting his brother over the comment over the table.

What can you say, if you marry one Miya brother, you’re automatically married to the second one.

@rukia-uchiha-98 @nerd-of-karasuno @wake-uptoreality @darthferbert

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyū!! #hq x reader #hq fluff #atsumu miya #osamu miya #osamu fluff #osamu miya x reader #osamu x reader #miya osamu #osamu x y/n #miya osamu x reader #haikyuu osamu #msby atsumu #miya twins #miya atsumu

[bonezone44]

linecook!Ezra ficlet (18+)

Linecook!Ezra x afab!Reader

word count: 873.

Tags: no smut. Just some good ol’ fashioned Waffle House dirty talk. Implied oral (f), implied past somno fingering, implied past p-in-v.

a/n: I've got 1000 other fics I should be writing but then this came out and I know it ends abruptly, but I'm trying to get my brain going.

+++++

Ezra, sitting on an overturned bucket in the back of the Waffle House, spits wisdom to his young cohorts on his cigarette break. They gather around him with eager eyes and hopeful smiles while he shares tales of the beforetimes (before the current manager was hired). He feels like the village elder, continuing an oral tradition that began long before the Waffle House existed. Back when it was a plot of land on the side of the highway that the local farmers would use to set up their vegetable stands every day.

When his tale is done, so is his cigarette. He snubs it out on the wall behind him and tosses the butt in an ever-present, faded, empty can of Barq’s root beer.

"You want another one?" asks one of the new waitresses, holding out a pack of Marlboro 100s that seemed to materialize from thin air with how swiftly she acquired it from her purse. Her fingernails are chewed down to the bone. She's nineteen years old and keen for Ezra's attention and approval.

She’s cute, he thinks. But he knows she’s too young and inexperienced for a man with his tastes. He wasn’t nearly as patient and accommodating as he had been in previous years. And none of those passing thoughts matter much anyhow since he has you.

He smiles, though, and continues to be polite. "I appreciate the offer, but I find myself satisfied with that particular poison for today." He pulls out a small joint of marijuana from his pocket. "On to the next one," he drawls with a smirk and the group laughs. They watch quietly as he lights it up with a flick of his BIC and takes a long, deep inhale. He holds it for as long as his aging lungs can muster and releases it above him in a thick cloud of smoke.

Then the back door flies open and you poke your head out.

You scoff at the sight. "Ezra! What are you doin back here? I need you on the grill!" You wave your hand, swatting the weed smoke away.

"I am holding court with my brethren," he turns to you and answers coolly.

"You're not gettin paid to hold court!" you yell. "I got hungry people in here!"

"Alright, alright." He licks his finger and thumb and pinches out the cherry of his joint. He looks to his audience. "Duty calls," he says with a smile and stands up. He lazily makes his way inside while you stand there and hold the door open for him.

—

You look out at the group. "What are y'all doin here? Y'all don't even work today!"

They offer their excuses, but you don't care to hear. You shoo them off and tell them to go home.

Back inside, Ezra's washing his hands at the sink. You two are hidden from view.

"I got people starin at me wonderin when their food's gonna get started!" you grouse.

"And they will be fed shortly," Ezra responds casually–as if he has all the goddamn time in the world. He dries his hands with a few paper towels and tosses them in the trash.

Your shoulders fall. "I'm exhausted, Ezra," you whine, begging for sympathy. "My feet hurt. I smell like shit. I don't wanna deal with these people anymore."

"C'mere, starlette." He wraps one arm around your waist and pulls you close. His other hand slaps your asscheek, hard. You gasp and jump and it brings your bodies closer. He looks at you adoringly. "Your shift is nearly done and when my relief arrives--" He slides one hand down the center of your ass. "--I will hurry myself to your place of residence post-haste--" His fingers press against your most sensitive area through the thin, polyester fabric of your work pants. You whimper. "--and devour your sex until I am smothered and covered in your juices.”

You close your eyes and fight back a smile. Ezra is the only man you’ve been with to make good on his promises–well, when it came to sex, at least. “I’ll probably be asleep by the time you get there.” 

“That’s never stopped me before,” he murmurs to you with hazy eyes.

You feel something hard press against you. Your whole body warms to the memory of waking up with Ezra heavy on top of you, fingers sliding in and out of your cunt. You melt against him like a slice of cheese. “Shit, Ezra,” you sigh. You wanna pull him into the manager’s office again like you did on your third shift. Leaned over the desk with your pants pulled just below your ass and Ezra’s apron tossed over his shoulder. You were tossing your ass back just as hard as he was slamming his hips. Never even got caught.

“Anybody workin here?!” a voice bellows from the dining room.

You immediately pull back from Ezra, though he is loath to let you go.

“I’m coming!” you shout.

“Yes, you will be,” mutters Ezra.

You grab a stray rag from the counter and toss it in his face with a frustrated huff. You straighten your clothes and rush to the front, doing your best to make peace with the upset guest.

+++++

#ezra prospect #x reader #ezra x afab!reader

[raisin-shell]

Raph’s Journal Chapter 8:

The Lesson

Yeah, I’m back. Look I know what yer thinkin’… I’m doin’ a lot of bouncin’ around. Fact is it’s my journal so yeah I’m gonna jot down whatever tha fuck pops inta my head. This particular story just so happens ta take place in our younger years. Not quite as young as when our pops tried ta have “tha talk” with us. That went over like a turd in a punch bowl. This memory actually happened a couple years after, but before we had ever started patrollin’ tha city streets.

I once told a story to a young woman one time, I believe it was on a website called Tumblr. I was asked about tha most awkward moment I had as a youngster an I’m pretty sure it was tha circle jerkle myself an my brothers partook in upon findin’ our first porno mag that had been dumped into tha sewers. Needless ta say, ol fearless an Donnie had a discussion an once again without mine or Mikey’s approval, came ta tha conclusion that we all needed ta have our own talk. I found this hilarious considerin’ Donnie an I had already begun explorin’ each other sexually. An yet even though I wouldn’t let it show… I was also a bit nervous that he’d let our secret out. Let’s see what happens….

*slap*

Donnies baton directed everyone’s attention to tha two human naked forms he had projected upon tha blank wall of his lab as tha three of us sat. Leo of course was front an center. Fucks sake he had a damn note book. Mikey was also given a notebook but was busy doodlin’ a bunch of those old school “S” things that are fuckin’ gay. An I’m sittin there usin’ mine ta fan myself because I had become a little heated in this moment. All that aside… Donnie began his lesson.

“This is your basic human anatomy. Male and female. Naturally we aren’t exactly human but seeing as we have similar genitals and similar responses to sexual stimuli, this will have to do.”

He began by explainin’ tha male side first.

“The male brain is mostly responsive to visual stimulation. Which is why ah, we had our little incident a few moments ago. Receptors from the brain send signals to certain parts of our body and they react to that stimuli. Now then, when a male is sexually stimulated by a female, chemical reactions happen throughout the body. Heart rate increases as does blood flow and that blood flow is what causes an erection.”

Mikey raises his hand.

“What’s an erection?”

“It’s when yer dick gets hard Mikey”

I roll my eyes not meanin’ ta make eye contact with Donnie.

“Ahem. Yes. I suppose one term for it would be a “hard on” if you will. But this is why our bodies react in such a way. To prepare for sexual intercourse.”

Leo then raises his hand.

“But master splinter said we are not to experience something like this… intercourse I mean. So… our bodies will still react even though it’s forbidden?”

“Correct Leonardo. Splinters personal rules cannot stop the bodies natural responses. It’s like if I hit your knee cap, your leg will swing upward correct? Same difference. Being half human has given us loads of human like traits and this just so happens to be one of them. It’s natural for us to be attracted to the opposite sex. It’s ingrained in our human like brains. No amount of rules can change that.”

I raise my hand.

“Well… what if yer attracted to both?”

Ya could’ve heard a pin drop in that mother fucker I swear.

“I’m just askin’ as a hypothetical question… fer my own knowledge. We’re supposed ta be learnin’ right?”

Whew quick save.

“Absolutely Raph. When a male or female is attracted to either sex, it’s called being bisexual and there’s nothing wrong with that either. The body still responds in the same way. Now then, let’s move onto intercourse and why we ejaculate.”

Mikey raises his hands again as Leo jots down notes like a total nerd.

“What’s ejaculation?”

“It’s when ya blow yer load. Ya know that white slimy goop that shoots from yer dick an nearly has ya seeing stars? Tha world almost stops rotatin’ it feels so good? That.”

“Raph… would you like to teach the class or should I go on?”

Donnie crosses his arms with a cute smirk on his face.

“Naw. Yer doin’ great. Proceed by all means.”

I chuckle a bit, both of us knowin’ we know a lot more about this stuff than these two numbskulls.

“Okay then. The penis begins to tighten and harden in preparation for intercourse. Intercourse is a conjoining of two persons, mostly male an female.”

He taps the naked female diagram around her genital area.

“The female has a cavity called the vagina. Her sexual organs are located on the inside of her body. This cavity is where the penis goes when the female is receptive and ready.”

Leo raises his hand.

“What do you mean by ready?”

Jesus tap dancin’ Christ I’m dyin’ in my seat.

“What that means Leonardo is the females body also responds to sexual stimulation but not in the same way that males do. Some can be visual but mostly sensitive to touch, particularly in certain places like the neck, lower back, breast or nipples… sensative areas that send the same chemical reactions from her brain down to her genitalia. Women, while they too get engorged with blood also secrete a slick fluid in preparation for penetration from a penis. Is this making sense to the class thus far?”

Mikey pipes up.

“This is WAY different than the talk master splinter gave us. I’m digging it.”

“Yeah this is way more thorough.”

Leo adds still jotting shit down in his notebook.

“Okay then. Once the penis is inside the women’s vagina, mating has begun. This is done in so many different ways. I have another diagram showing different positions that this can be achieved.”

He flips to the diagram as Mikey begins to snicker an Leo tries ta fight back a smile from his face.

“Typically the male thrusts his hips into the female but as you can see here from certain angles the female can do the job for herself. Either way the stimulation of pulling back and fourth against the erect penis causes ejaculation to occur. This is how humans mate essentially, but also show each other affection or love or sometimes it’s just what they call a “hook up”. But generally speaking it’s designed to procreate. Any questions?”

Leo raises his hand.

“I’ve got a question. If the base meaning to all this is to procreate then why would same sex persons copulate?”

He turns back and looks at me which makes the butterflies in my stomach knot. God if he only knew how badly I wanted him. If he only knew.

“Well that is what separates humans from animals Leonardo. Actually it has been recorded that regular turtles have the same sexual partners and multiple partners as well. Dolphins too. So it’s not as uncommon as one might think.”

Donnies eyes flicked ta mine givin’ me a wink an I swear ta god I could feel tha heat risin’ from my chest.

“Well are there anymore questions? I figured this is a good stopping point. Our next lesson will be tomorrow, same time. We will look more at the genitals of both the male and female to get a better understanding of each part and how each works.”

He turned tha projector off and Mikey bolted to go play tha latest God Of War game he just downloaded. Leo finished scribbling his notes and excused himself. He an pops always had tea together at this time which left me an Donnie alone in the lab.

TCEST WARNING ⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️

I sat there glarin’ at him from my chair.

“I suppose ya think that was cute huh? Winkin’ at me in front of everyone?!”

I cross my arms in anger as he began ta approach me.

“No. But I think you are extremely cute when you pout the way you do.”

He straddles my lap, his lips softly landin’ on my neck which causes me ta loosen my arms an wrap them around him delicately.

“Why do ya always do this ta me?”

“Because you like it. In fact you enjoy it. Don’t act like you don’t.”

“I enjoyed yer lesson. I couldn’t have done that.”

“Well… if you enjoyed it so much why don’t we turn the projector back on. I have an idea.”

He slipped himself from me, a finger tracin’ tha hardness in my shorts as he walked over ta tha projector, flippin’ it back on. On his way he had relieved his shoulders from his suspenders lettin’ his trousers hang freely from his hips which I always liked. I followed him, wonderin’ what he had in mind when suddenly tha trousers fell ta his ankles an he began ta stroke that beautiful long cock of his. He straddled tha projector, his cock and tight balls on full display on tha wall as he curled his finger for me ta come closer.

I was on him like white on rice. My hands spreading his tight ass cheeks open only ta find my prize puckered an waitin’ fer me. I slipped my tongue between my lips, lappin’ his tiny hole as my hand wrapped around his shaft and began ta pump. His high pitched voice turned into deep breathy moans. Needy moans. He was always so hot fer me. Always so ready. Both sets of our eyes were on tha wall watchin’ our every move as I slipped a finger into his tight little asshole causing him ta arch his ass up fer me and a deep churr ta rumble from him. When I tell ya donnie has one hell of a churr it’s no small exaggeration.

I couldn’t wait any longer. My cock was throbbin’ fer him. I let my member free, tuckin’ it up against his and trustin’ myself against his own hardness, both our cocks in my massive hand. It was a sight ta see on tha “big screen” ta say tha least.

“R… Raph. Please.”

“Please what?”

I leaned over him readyin’ myself fer entry. I knew exactly what he wanted. But I wanted ta hear him say it.

“I want to feel you inside me. I want to watch you stretch me open. Fuck me. Please?”

I lined my massive head up with his spread open hole, his tail curled upward tellin’ me he was more than ready fer a good fuckin’. My free hand arched his neck ta tha side as my teeth clamped down, other hand still pumpin’ him steady and slow as I began ta sink my cock deep inside his rectum.

“Yes daddy. Mmmffff fuck!”

I loved it when he called me daddy, only encouraging me ta thrust forward as high pitched moans began ta ring from his throat. Tha image on tha wall matched perfectly. Two sets of cocks, both deep shades of green, my massive floppin’ sack slappin’ against his two perfectly round tight orbs. And tha wetness. God this mother fucker knew how ta gloss my cock. I thrusted harder an harder, my hand matchin’ tha pace of each stroke as did his pantin’ lettin’ me know he was close. His cock began ta twitch within my hand, another deep churr rippin’ from his chest as rope after rope of his cum sprayed all over tha projector.

I quickened my pace even more, thighs slappin’ his violently as I tore my bite from his neck and another deep churr tore through my entire body. I pumped my seed deep inside his warm tight canal…. Deep. We both relaxed in that position fer only god knows how long both pantin’ an laughin until Donnie was ready ta relieve himself. I slid from inside him, both of us with this shit eatin’ satisfied grin on our faces as we re clothed ourselves.

“Ya know… it probably would have just been easier ta show them how it’s done.”

I chuckle, knowin’ I’m just teasin’.

“Hmmmm you’re right. I might just use you as a sit in when we get to the part about blowjobs then.”

So that’s what happened. Never a dull moment in these sewers an he was bein’ dead ass serious. But that’s another story fer another day.

@turtle-babe83 @hummerhouse @tmntspidergirl @fyreball66 @imthegreenfairy88

I only tagged those I know that love this story and don’t mind tcest.

#teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt bayverse #tmnt raphael #tmnt #bayverse #tmnt 2016 #tmnt donatello #tmnt fandom #donatello #raphael #tmnt donnie #tmnt raph #raphs journal

[lunas-treehouse]

rant you can ignore im just not doin so good

do you guys ever have those bad days that turn into weeks that turn into months and all you can think is “man i hope im not going back to the bad place again” but your so worried if you are going there you wont let yourself acknowledge it or it could get worse? 

like do you ever do good in school and keep up with self care only to be so exhausted and mentally drained and sad you get confused because you dont understand whats happening? like you should be good because youre doing all the good stuff? 

then you realize youre so upset partially because your friends arent talking to you as much as before and you think youre paranoid and a part of you wonders if theyll read this and feel bad but you remind yourself they wont cause they dont really check your posts online which is a part of the reason you feel bad cause as much as you think online attention is stupid its one of the few ways you gain praise speaking of which youve also had them ignore your art by posting their own after u and moving on or just not bothering to say anything about it and you get that you draw A LOT but you just wish you got a small “it looks great!” or “i noticed your improvement” because you crave and desperatly need attention and approval from those you love because of the neglect you suffered as a child. but youde never directly talk to them about all this cause you feel paranoid and stupid and you know you wont be firm enough and will back out which you have done when you confronted someone about using functioning labels cause ur autistic and it hurts you. 

and you wanna say this in therapy but youre so scared of crying in front of your therapist and are worried you wont be able to speak. and what if youre still crying when you walk into the waiting room? what would mom say? that would be so embaressing and scary you cant even tolerate the idea. 

ya im not doin so good. 

#rant #actually autistic #Actually ADHD

[whiteqnn]

PURE [5] - Corpse Husband x Fem!Reader

A/N: It’s been a while.  

part 1

part 2

part 3

part 4

PURE [5]

“Did you guys find anybody?” Felix’s voice sounded out when the man repeated the same question for what seemed like the third time since he joined the call. The number of players showed 7 of them, which meant that they were still missing three people. Sure, they could start the game now, but it would be way more enjoyable and funny with a full lobby. 

“Yeah, Toast will be here any moment. “Sykkuno replied right away. “He just texted me; he should join us in a few.”

“Cool. Anyone else?” 

“I think Corpse was also supposed to join us, right? Not sure though why he isn’t here yet.” 

“Oh, yeah, Corpse will be here soon too!” Jack suddenly chimed in with an explanation. “He said he needed to take care of something first, but he’ll be here before we start.” 

“Great. But that means we’re still one person short.” Felix hummed when Toast’s little astronaut appeared in the lobby “Hey Toast."

“Hey man.”

“Do you have anyone coming?”

“I’m afraid not. I asked MrBeast, but he’s busy, so...”

“Well then, we can just start when Corpse is here, and maybe we’ll find someone in the meantime?” Dave suggested, earning a few hums of approval from the other players. 

“Yeah, I think that’s the best option...” Jack agreed. But then his voice blared out in everyone’s headphones with excitement. “Ha! Corpse is bringing someone!” 

“Who?” 

“I dunno, he just texted me he has one coming and that’s all.” 

“Hm, all right. Let’s wait then.”

***

Corpse fidgeted with his phone, glancing between its screen and the chat in his stream. People were already asking countless questions, but rather than answering them, he was waiting for Y/N to call him. He was nervous - the girl still hadn’t commented on his request. 

The idea to invite her to the lobby wasn’t spontaneous. In fact, he’d been thinking about it for quite some time now, but never found the courage to actually ask if she would like to join them for the game.

It’s been almost a month now since that memorable phone call. A month since Y/N last played with her friends; a month since she considerably reduced her social media usage. 

Sure, she was still active on her youtube channel, but not as much as before the whole haters situation. No matter how hard she tried to just ignore them and simply continue her career, she just couldn’t. There were still these nagging thoughts at the back of her mind, reminding her of all those people and their comments, their messages. It seemed like a good idea to take a short break and sort everything out.

Her fans understood it. They were obviously sad that her videos weren’t as frequent as before, but everyone knew what the situation looked like and that Y/N needed some time for herself. 

Her audience knew it, and so did her friends. Especially Corpse. 

The man kept his word and talked to the girl whenever she wanted to. Which, in the end, was almost everyday. Although at the beginning their conversations mostly focused on her current problem and dealing with it, their topics broadened over the time. 

At one point though, Y/N started worrying that maybe she’s annoying him with her so frequent calls. She thought that she shouldn’t bother him that much - even if talking to him was what really helped her cope with her problems. He already had enough on his plate, and sharing her own concerns with him suddenly seemed like a very selfish thing to do.

But she quickly realized how wrong she was for thinking like that. When one day she didn’t call, figuring out that she should stop troubling him with her own issues, she was very surprised when Corpse reached out to her himself. He expressed how worried he got when she didn’t call, and when she explained what was the reason, he spent the next fifteen minutes lecturing her that she should never think she’s bothering him. 

From that day on, they talked every single day. And they talked about almost everything.

Corpse enjoyed their late night-talks more than anything. He liked to listen to Y/N talk about the things she finds exciting, her hobbies, and her dreams. Hell, she could talk about what she ate for breakfast, and he would still listen with interest. 

And even though they haven’t seen each other in person, even though she still hasn’t seen his face, they managed to get really close during those past weeks. For an outside observer (who also didn’t have access to Twitter) they would seem like a couple of very good friends.

But not for Corpse.

He couldn’t pinpoint when exactly did it happen. They were talking one evening and Y/N was telling him about the TV series she had finished watching recently. He listened intently and watched as her facial expressions changed from excited to frustrated, as she was enumerating everything she liked and disliked about the series finale.

And then he suddenly got this weird feeling in the pit of his stomach, and simply couldn’t take his eyes off her. 

He tried to play it off and act as if nothing changed, but he couldn’t stop his heart from doing backflips whenever she laughed at one of his dumb jokes or called him partner. It was still a running joke between them and among the group of their friends, but there was something in the way she said it that made him instantly smile like an idiot. 

He also started paying more attention to the hashtags on Twitter and Instagram. #PartnersInCrime was still rather popular, even though it was a month since anyone last used this phrase on stream. Corpse also found out that #Y/Nforthebride was trending for some time; he even managed to stumble across a few fanarts. 

There was this urge to send them to Y/N, but he was too nervous that it would make things awkward between them... After all, he didn’t know how she felt about that whole shipping thing. 

That’s why he decided to just leave things between them as they are, and be happy that he’s at least her friend.  

Corpse nearly jumped out of his skin, when he was brought back to reality by the sound of an upcoming FaceTime call. Y/N’s photo appeared on his screen, her smiley face which he had assigned as her contact photo. His lips corners curled up in a smile almost unwittingly. 

“Hey Y/N/N” he said after answering the call. 

“Hi Corpse” she smiled softly upon hearing his voice. Although the screen on her side was dark, she didn’t mind not seeing Corpse’s face. She respected his wish to remain faceless and enjoyed their conversations anyway. 

“Whatcha doin’?”

“Just editing the new video. I guess I’ll upload it in the morning... but I’m not sure yet.”

“Well let me know then, I wanna be the first one to see it.” 

“Sure thing, Corpse” she chuckled, lowering her gaze bashfully. Corpse just looked at her face for a moment, unable to stop smiling to himself. Then he remembered why they were talking in the first place.

“So... have you seen my text?” Y/N sighed at his question but nodded her head slowly. “And what do you think?”

“I don’t know, Corpse...” she ran a hand through her hair in a nervous gesture. “...if that’s a good idea, I mean.”

“Well, it’s been a while. No pressure though, if you don’t wanna play then it’s totally fine.” he quickly clarified. “I just thought it would be fun if you joined us, even if just for a moment. I’m sure everyone would go crazy.” 

Her smile widened slightly at his words, but she still didn’t look convinced. Sure, it was tempting to join them. She wanted to do it each time Sean or Felix bombarded her with messages and codes to the lobby, both inviting her to join the group in the game. But then she remembered how people reacted to her appearance in their streams... and suddenly it didn’t seem like such a good idea anymore.

“We’re gonna play on Polus...” he added after a moment when she still didn’t say anything. “That one map with the planetary base... there’s a lava pit, y’know. Just saying...”

She laughed wholeheartedly at his words, remembering their last game when Corpse jumped into the lava for her. 

“Sykkuno’s gonna be there as well” Corpse continued. “And I promise I won’t kill you this time.”

“Even if I’m the last player alive?” she joked.

“Even then, Y/N.”

Corpse stifled a laugh, as she cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes slightly as if trying to spot him in the darkness. 

“Are you streaming, Corpse?” she then asked.

“Not yet. I’m gonna start the stream as soon as you say yes, though.”

“Oh c’mon” she laughed at his words “That’s emotional blackmail!” 

“Maybe. Is it working?” he asked.

Y/N let out a heavy breath and ran a hand down her face. Corpse watched in anticipation as she seemed to have some internal battle with herself. He hoped that she’s gonna agree, he really missed playing with her. 

“All right, then.” she suddenly said, and his breath hitched in his throat. “I’m gonna stay for a few rounds I guess...”

“Wait, really?” he asked, a smile on his face only widening. 

“Well, yeah, partner.” she replied, which made his cheeks go warm “Your imposter techniques haven’t been very effective lately... Someone needs to help you out, or you’re gonna lose your title of the king of the Imposters.” 

“Oh, is that’s how it is now?” he laughed in fake shock. “I wouldn’t have to worry about losing the title if my accomplice hadn’t left me all alone!” 

“All right, all right.” she giggled at his accusations. “Your accomplice is on her way to support you.” 

Corpse smiled even wider at the sound of her laughter. Her eyes shined with happiness when she was giggling, which only brought out their E/C color. The fact that his stupid babbling was the reason for her smile was making him feel extremely proud of himself.  

“But just so you know... I still have no idea how this map works, so I’m afraid I’m gonna need you to guide me around it...”

“Y’know you could as well just say you want to hang out with me...”

“Corpse!” she laughed, her cheeks blushing in embarrassment. 

“Just kidding Y/N” he chuckled at her reaction. “Of course I’m gonna guide you, don’t worry.”

“Okay then...” she said after a moment, looking at the screen again. “I’ll be there in a few minutes. Will you send me the code, please?”

“Sure I will, Y/N” 

“Okay. See you later, partner” she smiled brightly. 

“See you, partner.” 

When Y/N ended the call, Corpse let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He sighed in relief and ran a hand through his hair, before moving to sit behind his desk.

It was only after he started the stream that he realized he was blushing. Not only because Y/N would join them, but because there was also another thing he wanted to ask her about, but didn’t find the courage to yet... 

***

By the time Y/N turned on her computer and started the game, Corpse has already sent her the code, and there was a Discord invite waiting for her as well. She bit her lip nervously as her heartbeat quickened. 

Was she nervous? As hell. 

She did everything she could to avoid being in unnecessary spotlight since she started receiving those hate messages. Perhaps escaping the problem wasn’t the best solution, but it definitely was a comfortable one. People wouldn’t have a reason to hate on her if she disappeared. 

But then she couldn’t say no to Corpse. And truth to be said - she really missed playing with her friends. From what she’d seen on Twitter, the lobby would be filled with those she’d already played with, so she wasn’t that nervous before the game. What she was nervous about though, was how people would react.

Accepting Corpse’s request was something she did due to the sudden rush of courage. And now there was no coming back.

She knew Corpse would understand if she changed her mind... but she heard how excited he was when she had agreed. She couldn’t do it to him. 

So, once she’d taken a deep breath and put her headphones on, Y/N accepted the invite and braced herself for the inevitable chaos that was bound to take place in the call. She decided to wait with joining the lobby though - at least until they realize she’s with them. 

“..the fuck you’re talking about?!” Felix’s voice was the first thing she heard, which made her roll her eyes with a smile. “It’s not my fault I sound like that! At least I don’t have a liar voice like Rae!” 

“HEY!” the girl yelled “I don’t have a liar voice!”

“You do, you’re using it even now!” Jack argued, much to Rae’s dismay. 

“What is going on here” Corpse’s deep voice sounded out suddenly. 

“Oh, you’re here! Finally” Sykkuno immediately welcomed him with his always happy voice. 

“Yeah, sorry that I’m late guys.”

“No worries, man” Pewdiepie spoke up again. “We were just talking about playing the voice card and that you’re basically the only one who can do it.” 

“Not fair at all!” Rae chimed in, making Corpse chuckle. 

“The voice card...” he hummed after a moment, before adding. “I wouldn’t really say I’m the only one though...”

“Well who else then? Everyone else either starts laughing or have a liar voice” Dave asked, and Rae scoffed at the last words.

“Well what about my guest?”

Y/N inhaled sharply, realizing that now she should probably reveal herself. 

“Oh, right! Who you’re bringing man?” Sean asked with curiosity.

That’s when Y/N typed in the game code, and her white astronaut appeared in the lobby. 

“Wait, who’s- HOLY SHIT” Sean all but yelled, when realization hit him. Y/N laughed loudly at his reaction, and her voice only seemed to prove to everyone that she really was there. 

“KIDDO WHAT THE FUCK” Felix reflected Jack’s response, yelling over his friend.

“Oh my god, hi!”

“What a surprise!” Y/N managed to catch Sykkuno’s words. “It’s so amazing to have you here, Y/N/N!” 

“As I live and breathe.” another voice spoke up, and Toast’s little astronaut came face to face with her white bean. “My lifelong nemesis. Back here snap my neck again, huh?”

“Yeah, happy to hear you too, Toast” Y/N giggled at his words, then she adressed the whole group. “Hi guys.”

“Okay I did not expect that in the slightest” Sean laughed happily “You’re here kiddo!” 

“I am” she smiled from ear to ear, even though they couldn’t see her. 

“Wait- Corpse, is that the thing you had to take care of?” her best friend asked Corpse with suspicious voice. 

“Well...” he trailed off and cleared his throat, making everyone laugh.

“That’s so great Y/N! We missed you so much!” Rae thundered over the bickering of the boys. “The game hasn’t been the same without you...”

“Agreed. I suddenly stopped dying.” Toast commented, making her roll her eyes with a laugh. 

“I don’t know if I should be happy or fucking scared right now.” Felix laughed nervously. “With Corpse and Y/N? We’re fucked now, guys.”

“I promise I’ll go easy on you, I haven’t played in so long I think I forgot all my strategies...” 

“Yeah, sure.” Toast’s forever suspicious voice made her smile wider. “Just don’t kill me in the first roung, okay? I won’t vote you off just stay the fuck away from me you little murderer.” 

“Okay, I promise I won’t kill you...” 

She couldn’t stop herself from laughing, and the smile remained on her face even when they started the game. It only seemed to widen, when she saw the sign Imposter on her screen. 

Only to giggle hysterically when she realized that Toast was the other imposter...

And so the game went on with Y/N and Toast cooperating like perfect serial killers. Corpse did as he promised and guided her through the map, both of them being closely followed by Sykkuno. Because of that she’d just sabotage the map most of the time to give Toast opportunities to kill their friends, but eventually managed to sneak out when her two fellow crewmates were doing their tasks. It just so happen that Pewds was walking past her, and she might’ve accidentally snapped his neck... 

“Goddamnit! I knew it! I fucking knew it was you!” Sean yelled once the game was over and Y/N saw the sign VICTORY on her screen, her small character standing next to Toast’s one. He was ejected at some point because Poki managed to walk in on him killing Rae, but Y/N remained undetected until the very end. Perhaps the fact that Corpse was one of the two crewmates who were left alive had something to do wtih it...

“That was rude” Pewds said in a whiny voice, clearly referring to their encounter which led to his death. “I was just happily walking around, doing my tasks like a good crewmate, and then boom! Y/N happened” 

“I would say I’m sorry... but I’m really not” she laughed, making Felix gasp in shock.

“That’s what happens when you work with Toast!” 

“Good game, Y/N. That was amazing” the man in question said appreciatively. 

“Will you finally forgive me for killing you that one time if I say that being imposters with you was cool?” she laughed nervously. 

“Actually... Yeah, I guess we can bury the hatchet now. AND we should team up more in the future.”

“Great!” 

“Excuse me, what?” Corpse’s voice made the whole lobby laugh. “I don’t remember us cancelling our partnership, Y/N.”

“Corpse...” 

“Are you trying to steal my accomplice from me Toast?” 

“Well she’s a great partner in crime after all...” Toast deliberately used the phrase, making Corpse gasp.

“Hey! She’s my partner! Find yourself your own, Toast” Corpse joked, making Y/N laugh bashfully, her cheeks warming up at his words. 

“Yeah yeah, I remember, don’t worry man. No one’s gonna take your partner in crime away from you...” Toast’s teasing voice made them all laugh, Corpse and Y/N included. 

For the next few rounds Y/N played as a crewmate, running around the map with either Corpse or Sykkuno and doing her tasks. During meetings they joked and laughed, and for a moment, she stopped thinking about what people watching her friend’s streams might think about her presence. After all, there was at least a small chance that they didn’t think about it at all, and simply enjoyed watching their favoirte youtubers. Just as she enjoyed playing with her friends. 

Oh, and by the way, Corpse kept his promise and didn’t kill her even when she was the last player alive...

It was soon time when everyone started slowly leaving the lobby, having played for over three hours. Y/N also said her goodbyes to the others and promised that she’d join them to play a game called Raft next week. 

When she turned her computer off and threw herself on her bed, Y/N immediately grabbed her phone to call Corpse. He answered right away. 

“Well hello, partner...” she rolled her eyes with a smile when he accented the last word. “Or should I say, traitor, instead?” 

“Corpse... you know I would never betray you...” 

“Well how can I be so sure, now that I know how cool it is to be imposters with Toast?” she knew he was joking, she could almost hear the smile in his voice.

“Not nearly as cool as it is with you, Corpse” Y/N grinned from ear to ear when Corpse scoffed. 

“I spare your life so many times and that’s what I get in return? You cheat on me with Toast?” he said in disbelief “I’m disappointed, Y/N, I really am.”

“I would never!” she laughed through her words, even though her cheeks were now red because of Corpse’s words. “You’re the best partner in crime, Corpse, I wouldn’t trade you for anyone else!” 

Not only in the game, she thought.

“Hmm, alright. Let’s say I believe you.” he said after a moment of thinking. 

“I mean it, Corpse...” Y/N said after calming down from her laughter. “I... I really wanted to thank you.”

“Thank me? For what?” he asked, genuinely surprised. 

“Well, first of all for inviting me to today’s game... I really had lots of fun, it was great to play and talk with the others. And I wouldn’t be in the lobby if not for you...” Y/N mumbled, before verbalizing her previous thoughts. “And I also wanted to thank you for just... you know... being my friend. My real life partner in crime. I just wanted you to know I’m really glad I met you...” 

Corpse was silent for a good few moments, and Y/N started panicking that maybe she said something wrong, or maybe he found her spontaneous confession funny, or worse, dumb. She was almost ready to somehow laugh it all off, when his voice cut her off.

“Thank you, Y/N. It really means a lot to me too.” he sounded like he had some troubles with speaking, which made Y/N furrow her brows in worry.

“Is everything okay, Corpse?” 

“Yeah, I...” he stuttered, then laughed nervously. “I just didn’t expect that and... yeah. It’s not something I hear on a daily basis, especially from someone like you.”

Someone like me? 

 “But what you said... it’s mutual.” he said after a moment, and Y/N couldn’t stop herself from grinning like an idiot. “You’re the best partner in crime I could ask for. And not only in the game.” 

She could as well just pass out there and there...

“So uhm... there was one thing I wanted to ask you...”

“Yeah?”

“I was wondering if maybe... you know, if you’d have some time... and if you’d want to of course... would you maybe like to visit me here in San Diego?”

Yeah, passing out seems like a good idea. 

***

This is not the last part. 

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#corpse husband #corpse imagines #corpse x reader #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband x reader #youtubers x reader #imagine

[eepy-pleepy]

It’s Not Everest (No Vacancy)

The neon “NO” is hidden behind an overgrown shrub, so Dean pulls the Impala into the motel parking lot before they can see that it is, in fact, lit.

“Awesome.” Dean says in a tone that clearly doesn’t think so, and whips the car around to pull back onto the dark road. They immediately hit a pothole and Sam’s head bumps the ceiling.

“Ow, wait, Dean, we didn't go check with the office, maybe they just left the sign lit because they can’t freaking see it–”

“No, Sam, every goddamn motel in this godless town is full up and I don’t particularly feel like walking into another musty fucking office just to have them tell me I need to learn how to read. It’s too damn late, I’m too damn tired, I’m just gonna find a pull-off where the cops won’t feel the need to be our 5AM wake-up call and we’re sleeping in Baby. Fuck it.” He emphasizes the last sentence by throwing the car into park, all seventeen feet of shiny black metal successfully hidden behind a bank of tall, scraggly shrubs off the shoulder of the road. Dean kills the engine and the early summer evening rises to fill the silence with the musical stylings of several hundred crickets.

“Dean.”

“We’ve done it before, Sam.”

“I know we have. What about Cas?”

Dean looks over at the passenger’s side. Sitting shotgun, Cas looks back at him, his eyes just a dark glint in the moonlight.

“I can just... keep watch outside.” He says.

“Bad fucking idea.” Dean snaps. “I wake up in the middle of the night and see you out there lurking, I might shoot you between the eyes. You’re staying in the damn car.”

“Dean, there’s not enough roo–”

“Look, Sammy, passing out is passing out, sitting or lying down. This is a molehill, not Everest. I just need my four hours, damn.”

Dean crams up against the driver’s side door, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning his bent knees against the back of the seat between himself and Cas. He’ll worry about bootprints on the leather upholstery when he isn’t so fucking exhausted.

“Jerk.” Sam mutters from the backseat, almost inaudible.

“Goodnight, bitch.”

“Goodnight, Dean. Sam.” Cas murmurs.

“Don’t make it weird, Cas.”

"Goodnight, Cas."

"Thank you, Sam."

Dean gives a little huff through his nose. Cas folds his hands in his lap and turns his head forward to watch the fireflies.

Dean doesn’t like it when Cas watches him sleep. Cas knows this.

But if he doesn't want eyes on him, he shouldn’t be drawing so much attention to himself. This is the fourth time inside of an hour that he’s shifted around, clearly uncomfortable with his sleeping arrangement, six feet of full-grown man trying to figure out how to make three feet work for him.

It's clearly not working out.

Dean's head has fallen against Castiel’s arm. He’s snoring gently, Cas can feel his breath warm through the sleeve of his trench coat.

He shuts his eyes. Pulls his focus down to just this, the upper lefthand side of his body. Feels the weight of Dean's head, the unyielding shape of his skull, the softness of his cheek. Cas turns his head towards him, just to better assess the situation. Not at all to feel the soft tickle of Dean’s hair against his nose and lips. That’s just an... accidental consequence.

Cas feels too big for his own skin. It’s something a multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent should be entirely familiar with, but this isn't the feeling of cramming a Chrysler building into a 5-foot-11-inch frame.

This is bigger than that.

The slump of Dean’s body across the seat means that his head is the only thing supported, and it has his neck at a bad angle. If Dean's an angry sleeper, he's even worse with a crick in his neck and Cas doesn't love the idea of being stuck in a car with that tomorrow. He can't pull Dean more flush against his side without the risk of waking him and sending him into a conniption of bruised heterosexuality, so instead, he carefully lifts his arm. It works perfectly: Dean slides forward, falling to lying down with his head in Cas' lap.

The effect is immediate. The uncomfortable pinch between Dean's brows smooths away and he takes a deep, slow breath, settling against his new pillow and sinking into an easier sleep.

Cas hasn't realized he's smiling, yet. It's a tiny, soft thing, the one he gets when he's looking at something precious.

He is.

The moonlight catches the sweep of Dean's eyelashes, the top of his cheek, the shell of his ear, gilding them silver. His lips are parted, plush and dark in the contrast of the pale light. He's slightly curled up on the bench seat and Cas knows it's to fit the small space but that doesn't mean it's not the most fucking endearing thing he's ever seen.

The short hair over Dean's ear is mussed from the way he was slumped like a grumpy turtle past the collars of his shirt and jacket. Delicate, Cas brushes it right again.

Dean shifts, pressing up into his ghost of a touch. Cas draws back, afraid he's been caught doing something definitely not on Dean's approved list of Things Just Friends Do, but Dean doesn't wake. Cas' hand hovers.

He shouldn't. He should return to looking out of the front windshield and prepare the diffusion for when Dean wakes up to find himself sleeping in Cas' lap. That's what he should do.

The trouble is, nothing short of a fucking catastrophe could pull his eyes away from this. Dean is so beautiful, so calm and easy in his slumber, and he's right here, safe and close and warm. Literally right in his lap.

Cas pets Dean's hair, feeling that dangerous constriction again, something so huge and profound it might very well burst him. Dean sleeps on.

"You should tell him."

Sam's voice from the backseat is so quiet it's barely a whisper, but it startles Cas like a gunshot. He turns his head a margin to find Sam watching him, head and shoulders against the back driver's side door, arms crossed over his chest.

"Did you say something?" Cas tries, matching Sam's barely-there whisper.

"You heard me."

"Tell him what?"

"You love him."

Cas turns his head further so he's not just looking at Sam out of his periphery. There's nothing accusatory in Sam's tone, quiet as it is, or in his posture, cramped as it may be. He looks back at Cas with nothing but the same easy camaraderie he's always shown him, like they're discussing a good book or the lovely weather, not a complete paradigm shift.

In his lap, Dean tucks one hand under Cas' thigh and nuzzles his face deeper against the fabric of his pants. Cas looks down at him again and feels ready to explode into several new galaxies.

"I can't." He breathes.

"Why not?"

"You know your brother, Sam.” Cas says, unable to stop himself from stroking light fingers through Dean’s hair again. “And I’m happy. I refuse to risk losing him in pursuit of something I don’t need from him.”

“You’re right, I do know my brother. Probably better than he’d like to believe.” Sam says. “And I think he might surprise you, given the chance.”

Cas looks back at Sam like he wants to argue, but then just closes his mouth, his jaw bunching. Sam gives a little shrug and sits forward, reaching behind himself for the door handle.

“Just some, uh… food for thought.” He says. “I’m gonna hit the head. I’ll take my time. No particular reason.”

“Sam.”

But Sam’s already unfolding out into the night air, the car rocking as his weight shifts. The crickets are suddenly much louder, invading their little bubble of quiet. In Cas’ lap, Dean twitches.

Sam shuts the car door and Dean sits bolt upright. His gun, dropped in the footwell before he fell asleep, is in his grasp in a blink.

“Sam's just gone to relieve his bladder.” Cas says next to him. Dean squints at him and sniffs, wiping at his groggy eyes, then flicks the safety back on. The gun hits the footwell again with a dull thunk.

"God. Like a damn cashew. You'd think with all that height there'd be more... storage."

Cas is carefully looking forward, and not at the red mark on Dean’s cheek that’s the same shape as the warm spot rapidly cooling on his thigh. Dean rubs at that side of his face.

“Was I…?” He clears his throat. “Uh.”

“Asleep? Yes. I thought that was the idea.”

“Lying on you.”

“You needed to stretch out.”

Dean gives a frustrated sigh. “No, Cas, man, that’s your personal space. You should have shoved me off.”

“It was easier on your neck.” Cas says, still looking straight ahead. “You weren’t bothering me.”

“That’s not the point. You gotta have boundaries.”

“What’s mine is yours, Dean. I have no qualms sharing everything I have with you.”

Dean scoffs, leaning forward over the steering wheel and tilting to pop his spine. “Jesus. You ol’ romantic.”

Cas turns his head to look at Dean. The slightly uncomfortable smirk slowly slips off of Dean’s face. His eyes drop to Cas' lips before he catches himself, and he makes a weak attempt to laugh the charge out of the air between them.

“Man, you gotta figure out your levels. Last person who looked at me like that had me thinking marriage."

“Dean, why do you say things like that?”

Dean’s shoulders shove up under his ears. “You turn eyes like that on some innocent girl she’s gonna up and devote her entire life to you, Cas, I’m just letting you know you gotta tone it down!”

“Why would I turn eyes like this on some innocent girl?”

“Because you’re doin’ it to me like you think it’s a normal thing to do!”

“Dean, maybe you need to figure out how to receive a signal without assuming the other person isn't aware of what they're broadcasting." Cas snaps, then subsides as something like fear flickers across his face.

Dean’s jaw hangs uselessly for a stunned moment.

"Cas. You–"

Cas watches him in the manner of a gazelle waiting for a sudden deadly movement. Dean's gaze flits to Cas’ lips again.

"You. Uh." He says eloquently, and his tongue darts out in a nervous motion. This makes his lips impossible to ignore, shiny and wet in the moonlight.

“It's not Everest." Cas whispers.

"It kinda fuckin' is." Dean says, hoarse.

“Forget it. You should go back to sleep.” Cas says, reaching towards Dean with two fingers. It’s his fighter’s instinct that makes Dean grab them before they can touch his forehead, but it’s something else entirely that bunches his other hand in the front of Cas’ coat and yanks him forward. Cas tumbles gracelessly on top of Dean, and Dean doesn’t give either of them time to think.

At the first touch of Dean’s lips, Cas melts. A tiny sound escapes him, not quite a sigh, not quite a moan, and he’s grasping Dean’s shoulder like it’s the only thing preventing him from falling into the footwell. Their mouths part with a soft, wet noise and Cas meets Dean’s eyes, almost too close to focus on.

His arm is pressed across Dean’s chest from his fall. He can feel Dean’s heartbeat, galloping like an outlaw with the sheriff on his tail, and he understands the feeling.

“Dean.” He croaks.

“Yeah.”

“Do that again.”

Dean nuzzles their noses together, nudges Cas’ mouth in a barely-there brush of lips. Cas touches Dean’s face, dizzy with it, feeling stubble rough on the skin of Dean's jaw. He presses forward, holding Dean’s face like the beloved thing it is, and kisses him reverently. Dean sinks against the door until he’s lying across the seats and shoves his arms up under Cas’ suit jacket, encircling his back.

The crickets play them a love song. It’s entirely lost on them.

When Sam returns, approaching the Impala with caution, he finds his brother asleep with his angel hugged against him like a large, man-shaped teddy bear. Cas glances up, clocking the motion of Sam leaning over to peer through the driver’s window, and there’s a smile on his face that Sam’s never seen on him before.

If happy was what he had been, then this? This is pure, unfiltered bliss.

Sam slides carefully into the back seat and shuts the door as gently as he can.

“I’ll save my I Told You So, but only because you look so cute.” He whispers.

“Sam.”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Read on Ao3

#destiel #suptober21 #no vacancy #I had no intention to participate in this year's suptober but then #the prompt hit me like seventeen feet of vintage shiny black metal #oops #dean winchester #castiel #wren writes #ao3 #fanfiction #fic rec #destiel fic rec #idiots figure it out #first kiss #fluff #grumpy dean #deancas #one shot #short n sweet #HAPPY 11 MONTHS #destiel anniversary #destiel is canon

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

With Sweet Understanding (Handsome Jack x Female!Reader) pt. 2

So I got really sucked in to this story and accidentally wrote like 25 pages of just these two idiots being cute. Hope you enjoy.

[F/N] blows off a party to hang out with her new friend.

Trigger warnings: emotional manipulation, alcohol

"Talk to me, [F/N]." Mr. Tassiter ordered, pushing through a crowded hallway into his office. You walked right at his side, heels clicking rhythmically against the ground with every step. 

"You have a meeting with the general from Alphard. Peasant uprising, it's a whole thing. They need guns. Should be an easy sell." You began. "Then marketing needs your approval for a new ad campaign."

"And what of Blake's retirement party?" He asked. 

"The large conference hall you asked for has been booked, and the caterer has been paid." You nodded. "I forwarded all the receipts to accounting."

"Wonderful." He nodded, sitting down at his ornate desk. "One more thing before you go." 

You stood up a little straighter when you noticed his slightly more severe tone. "Yeah?" 

"Why did your boyfriend feel it necessary to inform me that a programmer insulted him?" He asked, voice strung tight. 

"Did he really?" You countered, hoping he would buy your ignorance. 

"Yes." Mr. Tassiter answered, booting up his computer. You figured by his silence, he was still expecting an answer. 

"I think it's because he had an incredibly sheltered upbringing. Everything he got was just handed to him, so he's entitled." You explained. You'd been holding that back a long time, so it just spilled out of you. 

"Right." Mr. Tassiter said, somewhat surprised you had it in you and pleased it came out. You hoped you would come across as someone loyal to the company, instead of someone in the throws of a lover’s quarrel. "[F/N], you know my time is too valuable for petty interpersonal drama."

You lowered your head. You knew where this was going and you didn't like it. "I understand, sir." 

"I hired him on your recommendation, [F/N]." He said, flatly. "His performance reflects back on you. Are we clear?" 

You nodded. "Crystal clear, sir." 

"Good." He fixed his gaze back to his computer. "Off you fuck, now." 

Before you turned around to leave, you had one question. "Mr. Tassiter?" 

"Hm?" He looked quite annoyed. "What is it?"

"That programmer." You said. "Did you fire him?" 

"John?" He raised his eyebrows. "Regrettably, no. That little bug's unfortunately one of the best we've got. Like a common stone among shit, I'm afraid. I’m making him work overtime to fix his code. Unpaid, of course. That seemed to shut Rhodes up and saved me the trouble of finding a new code monkey." 

You were relieved that John still had his job. You couldn't live with yourself if you had gotten someone fired. Especially someone as kind and harmless as John. 

But still, why should you have to be responsible for your boyfriend's fragile ego? You considered it while mindlessly running through the motions of dreary clerical work. 

"Hyperion Munitions, how may I direct your call?" You said, over and over and over again in your too-high customer service voice. This time, the caller demanded your attention.

"Hey, [F/N]." The hushed voice said from the other end. 

You held your hand over the receiver, hiding your lip movements and muffling your voice. "John?" 

"There's my little salted caramel blondie." John greeted, probably lifting the nickname from whatever snack food was within eyeshot. "How'ya doin, [F/N]?" 

You smiled. The sound of his voice made all the frustration from that conversation with Tassiter dissolve into nothing. It was just drama, now. And he was too busy and important for drama.

You coiled the phone cord between your fingers. "You're not mad at me for getting you in trouble?" 

"Mad?" He said through a mouthful of whatever it was he was now eating. A salted caramel blondie, probably. "[F/N], I'm calling to thank you. Finally clapping back at Rhodes was fucking orgasmic. And now I hear Tassiter thinks he's a bitch, too? That is divine justice." 

Again, you checked over your shoulder to confirm nobody was listening in. "Glad I could help. He definitely needs to be taken down a peg. And if it isn't coming from me, all the better." 

"Oooh..!" You heard the creak of his chair from beyond the phone. "[F/N], you know, if you ever need anyone to talk to-" 

"Yeah." You interrupted. "I do, actually." 

You could almost hear his grin. "Awesome. I'm working late tonight, so come meet me in the basement. The rest of the rats will be gone. I'm all ears, dollface." 

"Tonight?" You repeated, suddenly remembering Blake's retirement party.

"Oh, shoot and darn it." He snapped his fingers, loudly. "You have that party tonight, don't you? Wow, what a shame. Poor me, all alone in a basement, patching up code all night long with nobody to talk to.

"Screw it." You said. "I'll make an appearance then meet you down in the basement."

His voice dropped to a whisper. "Alright, now we've got to speak in code. When I say 'you bring the wine', you respond 'I will'. That means you're going to bring the wine."

“[F/N]?” Amos’s voice interrupted your conversation. 

“Yes, Mr. Burke, I will see to it you have an audience with the shareholders.” You said into the phone. “Their next meeting is a week from Tuesday.” 

“Oh, shit, did someone just walk in?” John whispered. “Is it Amos?” 

“That’s right.” You said, smiling at Amos and holding up a finger to signal for him to wait just a moment. “Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?” 

"Um, the wine?" He repeated. 

You smothered a chuckle under a practiced customer-service laugh. “Yes, sir. I'll make sure of it.”

“Eeugh, that customer service laugh is creepy.” John said. “Alright, I’ll see you then.” 

You put the phone down, and looked up at your boyfriend. “Hey, babe.” 

“Hiya, princess.” He greeted, pulling something from his pocket. "I bought you something. To say sorry." 

He placed the box flat on your desk. You tented your hands, looked at the box and then back at him. "You think jewelry is going to magically make this all go away?"

"It's worth a shot." He tried to disarm you with a shrug and a chuckle. 

You frowned. "I'm not laughing, Amos."

He took the box and opened it. "Look, babe. It's a pair of skag pearl earrings. I know how much you like the necklace your mom got you when you graduated college, so-" 

"Amos." You interrupted. You had to admit, it was refreshing to know he'd actually considered what you liked when selecting a hush present. You had a collection of crystalisk shards and pieces of refined eridium that had only been seen on your person once or twice before spending years in the jewelry box. "This isn't something you can fix with a present." 

"[F/N], please." He begged. "Just tell me what you need me to do to forget this." 

"We can talk about this later." You turned back to the phone, which was ringing again. "I have a ton of work to do.” 

You picked up the phone. Before you could say your greeting, Amos ripped the plug from the wall and you got an earful of dial tone. 

You shot up from your seat. “What the fuck?!”

“I want to talk about this now.” He insisted, holding the cord just out of your reach.

“Amos.” You said through gritted teeth. You yanked the cord from his hand and plugged it back in. “Tassiter made it abundantly clear that he's holding me responsible for all your petulant bullshit. You want to know how to fix this? Act like an adult for ten fucking minutes and stop making more problems for me." 

Come that night, you would find yourself behind the bar, snatching one of the plentiful bottles of champagne. Dressed to the nines in a simple green dress, you approached your boss with a smile.

"More champagne, Mr. Tassiter?" You said, using your customer service voice.

"Well aren't you a darling?" He held up his still quite full champagne flute. "I'm alright for now, [F/N]. But don't go far."

With your appearance made, you tucked away the bottle of champagne and absconded to the basement.

The basement was dark, save for one desk light where your date was waiting. Your prince charming of bitching about your relationship. He was hunched over his computer, typing furiously and taking the final drags from the last remnants of a cigarette.

"I have arrived." You declared, catching his attention.

"And you brought the wine, I see." He answered. 

"As soon as I get this gold shit off, we can drink it!" You said, stealing a swivel chair from another cubicle and sitting down. You fidgeted with the foil, finally ripping it off and revealing the cork.

"You didn't happen to bring champagne flutes, did you?" John asked, as he looked around the cubicle. 

"All you said was bring wine." You rationalized, tossing out the crumpled foil. "You never asked for something to drink it out of." 

"Alright, well," He grabbed a mug from the desk and dumped whatever room temperature coffee was left into the waste bin. "I can use this, and I guess you can just drink out of the bottle."

You gripped the cork and started to tug. "Charming." 

"Need a hand there?" He said, raising an eyebrow at the somewhat sexual way you were working the neck of the bottle. 

"If it will get you to stop making that face." You laughed, handing over the bottle. 

He gripped the neck, gently but firmly. His thumb ran up the edge, and angled itself under the cork. He teased it out, gently pushing from all directions around the rim. All the while, he kept an eye on it. He was a precise man. His hands were finely tuned to locate small, insignificant deviations. His eyes briefly met yours before the cork flew out with a satisfying pop. The bottle began to overflow with foam. 

He tipped the bottle over his coffee mug, filling it all the way to the top. Then, he handed the bottle to you.

He held his mug above his head. "A toast." 

"Raise a glass." You said, flatly, hoisting the entire bottle into the air. "To the laws of polite society that keep me from wrapping my hands around Amos's neck and choking him out." 

"Mmm." He muttered over a large swallow of wine. "I think you mean 'strangle'."

"Is that right?" You asked. "I didn't realize there was a difference."

"Choking is what happens when you have something lodged in your windpipe." He explained. "Strangling is what I'm going to do to Amos if he rats me out to Tassiter again."

"Oh, no you won't." You didn't even bother to pretend to object to that. You poured a sizeable slug of wine down your throat. "Not until I take out a massive life insurance policy on him." 

John nodded. "Good thinking." 

"But let's be real." You dropped your shoulders. "All that's gonna do is pay off all the money I spent taking care of him after college." 

"Pour one out for your twenties." He said, tipping some champagne onto the ground. 

"Maybe don't." You brought the bottle to your lips again. "This is, like, $500 champagne." 

"For real?" He objected, setting his mug upright again. "Shit, now I feel bad."

"Don't." You said, topping him off. "It's the company's treat, remember?" 

"In that case." He smirked and downed his entire mug in one swallow. "Hit me again, oh goddess of wine." 

"Now we're talking." You grinned, filling his mug up again. 

He swiveled dramatically back towards his computer and punched out some seemingly random digits. 

You brought your swivel chair a little closer to his. "What are you working on?" 

"I am programming." He said with a cheeky smile.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Okay, but what is it that you're programming?" 

He scrolled through lines upon lines of complicated nonsense. "See, coding is like building your own universe. You get to write the rules, but conversely, you have to follow them." 

You nodded. "Huh." 

"This is called a boolean operator." He said, highlighting a line of letters. "They can assess whether something is true or false. And I can make the variable say whatever I want." 

He wrote a couple of lines that sort of resembled an English sentence. 

"See, I can set this variable to 'true'," He explained, fingers flying deftly across the keyboard. "And then I can make the variable mean, let's say, 'John is handsome'." 

You giggled, noticing he hadn't run it yet. "Go on. I want to see what this universe thinks of its god." 

"Give me a second." He said, eyes running back and forth across the screen. "I just want to confirm… and, there." 

He pressed the enter key. Sure enough, there it was. 

'JohnIsHandsome' = true

"Wow." You snickered. "I think she likes you." 

"You think?" He gasped, resetting the variables without even looking at the screen. "You think I should pass her a note in study hall?" 

You bursted out laughing. "Is John handsome, true or false?" 

"So that's one of your basic data types." He explained, scrolling back down through the jungle of multicolored text. "When you learn the language, you can do pretty much anything you want with it." 

"And what are you doing here?" You gestured to the screen. 

"I'm so glad you asked." He smiled, excited that someone was taking interest in his work. "Can you go in the middle drawer and hand me that thing?" 

You were suspicious until you saw exactly what 'thing' he was talking about. It was cylindrical, and looked a bit like a microphone, but smaller. You held it out in your hand. "This thing?" 

"Exactly." He nodded and swiped it from you. 

"What is it?" You asked. 

He scrolled through the code one final time, really just giving a cursory glance. You noticed how he gnawed at the inside of his cheek as he did so. "Now, if my code is up to snuff…" 

He ejected a tiny drive from the side of his computer. Biting down on his lip, he carefully inserted the chip onto a slot on whatever it was you handed him. "...which I know it to be…" 

His thumb found a switch on the side of the device and it flickered to life. He leaned over and held it beneath your chin. "I can make magic happen."

"What's hap--" 

You clapped your hands over your mouth when the voice that came from it was John's. 

"Cool, right?" He beamed with pride. "Come on, say something else. Please?" 

"Holy shit." You said, your giggles sounding even funnier in John's voice. "This is amazing. How did you even make something like this?" 

"Oh, hell," he scratched the back of his head. "Like, months upon months of staring at the screen playing find-the-bug, resulting in so much retinal damage I'll be blind by forty."

"I mean, just the phonetics alone must have taken forever!" You exclaimed, purposefully making your tone go up and down to test the flexibility of the device. 

His face lit up even more. "That's just it! It hardly took any time at all! It was just a couple of samples, really, if you could believe it." 

"This is just incredible, John." You said, looking at him with pure amazement on your face. "You're a genius." 

"Oh, come on." He laughed. "It's nothing, really." 

You pushed his hand away so he could hear it in your voice. "I really do mean it." 

His cheeks flared up. "Thanks, [F/N]. That's really nice to hear from someone like you." 

“Someone like me?” You repeated. “Who the hell am I?” 

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “You’re… sophisticated." 

You snorted. "You could be too if you put on a dress this expensive." 

He looked to be genuinely considering it for a moment. "Hm. Maybe I will." 

"So what are you going to do with it?" You asked, folding your hands in your lap.

He spun it between his fingers as he leaned back in his chair. "I don’t know, yet. Chances are, Tassiter is going to steal it, take credit for creating it and, if I’m lucky, a hundred something years down the line somebody will find out it was made by a lowly programmer.” 

“That…” You folded your arms and looked down. “Yeah, it’s kind of sad how likely that is.” 

“I think I’m just going to keep it to myself until I know I have a shot at getting the recognition I deserve.” He gripped it in his palm and tossed it back into the drawer. “You won’t tell anybody, will you?” 

You drew an x over your heart. “I’ll take it to the grave.”

He hoisted his coffee cup into the air. “I’ll drink to that.”

#handsome jack #handsome jack x reader #handsome jack x you #borderlands #borderlands 2 #borderlands the pre sequel #hyperion #WSU reader🤝Sommelier reader🤝DB reader #drinking a lot of wine #i got a ton of the ideas for amos from the slappable jerk on tiktok

[cinebration]

Prophetic Fucking Visions (Alfie Solomons x Reader) [One-shot]

Prompt: “Am I not good enough?” / “I’m not good enough.”

For @writeroutoftime​! I had so much fun writing this! I was nervous, because I love Alfie so much and felt I couldn’t write him, but here we are. I hope you like it!

Warnings: blood and guts, seagull death

Gif Source: cillianmurphyss

You first met Alfie on the shore, though you were in the sand and he was above you on the bluff. A gunshot exploded above your head.

Curses spewed out of you as you ducked, your heart pounding in your chest. A seagull went down in a puff of feathers, blood splattering onto your hair.

You swore loudly.

Alfie’s grizzled face peered over the bluff, eyes squinting down at you. “Fuck me, that’s a woman.”

Shading your eyes against the sun, you glared up at him. “What gave it away?”

“Not your fuckin’ sailor’s mouth,” he boomed at you.

If only I had a sailor’s fist, I’d knock you down, you thought.

“Sorry, love, didn’t mean for all that shit on ya. Come on up and get yourself cleaned up.”

You hesitated. You didn’t know him, and he still had the pistol in his hand. “I’ll manage,” you called up.

“Fuck me, you want me to throw down a rag instead?”

It was better than walking back into town with seagull oozing down your face. “If you please.”

“Awright,” Alfie croaked, disappearing.

After five minutes of waiting, the sun starting to beat down on you, you decided the rag wasn’t worth waiting for. You resumed your walk across the beach.

“Woman!”

You stopped in your tracks and turned toward the voice. Alfie lumbered across the sand toward you, a small towel clutched in one broad hand. You stared at him. The man seemed to be a bear, shoulders slightly hunched as he made his way to you.

The horrid scar on the left side of his face and the milky blue eye drew your attention last. The other eye searched your face as he at last stopped before you and extended the cloth.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, taking it from him and roughing it over your hair.

“Not seen you around these parts, Sailor Mouth.”

You arched your eyebrows. “Sailor Mouth?”

“Got nothin’ else to call you ’til you give me your name.”

“And what would I call you?”

“The Wandering Jew.”

Your eyebrows arched higher, but you kept quiet. Raking the towel over your hair and ears one last time, you asked, “Did I get it all?”

Lips pressing together, he surveyed your head. Taking the towel from your hand, he swiped it along your forehead and then down the back of your neck, wiping away the last of the gunk. He grunted his approval.

“Thank you,” you repeated.

“For getting seagull guts all over you? That’s bad luck, that is.”

A rueful chuckle slipped past your lips. “Call me Bad Luck Sailor Mouth.”

Alfie’s good eye glimmered.

~~

“I do the odd thing here and there. Nothing too respectable,” you said with a laugh.

Alfie walked alongside you on the beach. You had chanced upon him a week after the seagull incident. He had struck up a friendly, albeit strange conversation with you before you had been forced to return back to town.

This was the fourth such meeting. It seemed he had been waiting for you this time. You only walked the beach once a week, not always on the same day, so he must have waited each day to see if you’d walk by.

“I used to make bread,” he said. “It isn’t too respectable neither.”

“Well, I’m sure real bakers would abhor liquid bread.”

He looked at you sharply.

“Your reputation precedes you,” you informed him. “It seems you’re a god down in Camden Town.”

He grunted. “I was resurrected.”

“And I was swallowed into the whale’s belly.”

He laughed. “That where you got your sailor’s mouth, is it?”

“More like my bad luck.”

He looked at you with that unblinking stare of his. It disconcerted you less and less the more you saw it. He seemed to be fixing it on you more frequently, though you couldn’t understand why. You felt scrutinized, a not altogether unpleasant feeling from him.

“You eat?” he asked.

“What, whales? That’s not how I got out of that mess.”

His eyes gleamed wickedly in the setting sun. “Dinner.”

“Sure, if you have whale to spare.”

“No whale, I fuckin’ hate fish.”

“I suppose that’s alright. It’d just taste like bad luck.”

Alfie lumbered off in the direction of his home. You managed to keep pace with him, his stride long but unhurried. A light breeze blew off the sea, tickling your cheeks with sea spray even at a distance. Ominous clouds gathered on the horizon, the distant breakers foaming white as the wind whipped them into a frenzy.

Alfie refused to let you help in the kitchen. You followed him into it anyway, watched him work. He had put a chicken in his oven earlier. You gathered he had hoped to have you over for dinner—had probably prepared a special meal every day until you arrived.

“On occasion,” he informed you, “I did make real bread.” He set a basket full of it before you.

You plucked off a small roll and began to eat it as you waited for him to finish roasting some vegetables. “A chicken, huh?”

“The seagull I shot didn’t keep. It was a stringy bastard.”

You laughed, the sound filling the space over the sizzle of the stove.

You enjoyed every bite of dinner. Alfie watched you with interest as you ate your fill.

“What’s a woman like you doin’ here in Margate? Why aren’t you in London or someplace?”

“Too big and noisy.” You shrugged. “Nobody gets seagull in my hair or shoots at boats for fun. I guess they only do that to people.”

“Ah, well, I’ve done that. Shot people.”

You lifted your head to see him staring at you. “For business or…?”

He leaned back in his chair, appraising you. “A bit of both.”

You nodded and resumed eating. Your inquiries about him after your first meeting had told you that much about him.

Dessert was succulent fruit. Alfie had fallen into silence, not quite brooding but definitely pensive. He directed you into the living room, the open balcony doors overlooking the ocean. The storm approached, a mild rain beginning to fall.

It reminded you of the rainy days of your childhood. Your mother would stoke the hearth fire and spin yarns to while away the hours.

The weather and Alfie’s unusually subdued demeanor pulled you down into a somber mood.

“My mother told me a story once,” you murmured, “one I’ve never forgotten. It goes like this. A young man meets a beautiful woman—the woman of his dreams, he thinks—who always treats him well but never responds to his advances. He watches her from afar, watching as other men try to woo her. She treats them coldly. He thinks to himself, ‘She must love me. She treats me better than them.’ But try as he might, with flowers and sweets and pretty words, he can’t get her to acknowledge her feelings.

“So one day, he asks, desperate, ‘Am I not good enough?’ And she says, ‘I’m not good enough. I’d make a poor wife. I’ll never be the woman in your dreams.’ He protests, but she tells him, ‘I have a temper, and I speak my mind. I wake ill-humored and have days where it feels like the whole sky is gray and nothing can lift it. My smile is fake, and I hate this place.’

“He realizes with a broken heart that she is not the woman he believed her to be, and he leaves her.”

Silence descended on you both.

“I hate that story,” you hissed quietly. “It doesn’t tell you that he drinks too much and stays out late, that he would make an equally poor husband. He isn’t the man of her dreams either. Neither is enough alone, but together, they can be.”

Alfie shifted in his seat. The creak of his chair drew your attention. A deep furrow scored his brow. “Dreams, yeah?” The tension in his voice sent a shiver through you.

“Yeah,” you echoed.

“I’ve been having these dreams lately, see. They’ve got this woman in it, yeah, but I can’t see her face. She could be anyone. In these dreams, she asks me a question, right? And I know in that moment she will be my death.” He looked at you, unblinking. “You’ve got a question for me, yeah?”

You met his gaze. It was the question you hadn’t asked when he had introduced himself. “What did you do to condemn yourself to be the wandering Jew?”

He stilled. The waves crashed on the shore beyond the window, seagulls shrieking overhead.

“Yeah.” His voice rumbled in his chest. “That’s it.”

“Any woman could’ve asked that.”

“They would’ve asked, ‘Why do you call yourself that? What’s it mean?’ But you know what it means, so you asked the right question.”

“How will I be your death, then?”

“Fuck if I know.”

Thunder pealed, shaking the windows.

“Should I leave?”

“Did I say that? I came to Margate to fucking die, yeah? I’d rather someone love me to death than this fucking cancer.”

You swallowed thickly. “I’m not the woman of your dreams.”

“You’re right,” he growled. “I don’t have dreams. I have prophetic fucking visions. So are ya gonna fuckin’ kiss me or wot, Sailor Mouth?”

“You bet your fucking ass I am.”

#Alfie Solomons x Reader #Alfie Solomons #Alfie Solomons imagine #Tom Hardy x Reader #Tom Hardy #Tom Hardy imagine #Peaky Blinders #woot1kchallenge #request

[watchmegetobsessed]

Don’t Worry - Harry Styles

a/n: i’m so excited about this!!! this fic is my take on the song Don’t Worry by The 1975 for @harrystylescherry ‘s Playlist fic challenge! it took me a lot longer to finish this one, mostly because i chose to write about a topic that’s painfully close to my heart and life and i hope to help those of you who are struggling with similar problems. it’s a touchy subject and i really hope i can at least help just for a little by putting this piece out! also, huge thanks to Nat for this challenge and i can’t wait to read all the other fics!!

warning: eating disorder, lots of self-hatred but even more fluff and love!

word count: 3.8k

masterlist

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip a little harder than they should, it’s starting to feel painful but you don’t even realize. You’re way too fixated on the Instagram post in front of you, swiping through the same four pictures over and over again, crippling anxiety crawling up your spine, clouding your every thought.

Oh how you wish you could say that you’re not the jealous type. Well, in a way, you are not. You don’t think your boyfriend would ever cheat on you or leave you, that’s just not him as a person. Your jealousy roots in your insecurities about your body and it creates more of a confusion in your head about why Harry, your boyfriend of three years is really dating you when he could have anyone, any model or super gorgeous singer, actress out there, yet he settled for… you.

Your thumb swipes across the screen again as you keep staring at the bikini photos Kendall Jenner has recently posted. She is stunning, the perfect model type with her long legs, skinny torso and snatched waist. Hell, she could make you question your sexuality on other days even, but today she is feeding your burning insecurities.

The thought that at one point in life, your boyfriend was with her makes you feel sick, because you are simply nothing like her. In every sense, you are what others like to call curvy, however you often use other terms, some not too nice ones on your worse days. Your hips are wide, holding quite some meat on them, your full thighs never heard of such thing as thigh gaps, not even when you were a kid. Your tummy brings you a headache sometimes when you want to wear something tight, the urge to hide it stronger than your fashion sense. It’s been ages since you last dared to step out of the house without a bra on, your full breasts always need the support if you don’t want them to sit a little lower on your chest than what you prefer. There are rolls, extra skin, stretch marks and all that jazz on your body and has been for a long time. No model looks like this and you are more than aware of that. But if your boyfriend can get any of them, why did he settle for you?

Tears are threatening to roll down your cheeks when you finally close the app and stop staring at Kendall’s perfect body. You ball your hands to stop them from shaking as you make your way to the bathroom in need of some freshening up. The cold water in your face feels nice, but the moment your eyes fall on your reflection you almost cringe at your own sight, as if it’s a reminder of everything you thought about in the past hour.

What is Harry doing with someone like me? The question keeps playing in your head on repeat and you wish you had a relevant answer, but your tainted thoughts keep bringing you back to the same point: He surely will realize it himself and leave me.

You try your best to shake it all off your mind, but it’s not easy. Sitting at the dining table you busy yourself with some work you brought home, hoping the files will keep your wandering thoughts at bay, however the attempt is not quite successful. And then you hear the front door open and close, followed by Harry’s sweet greeting.

“I’m home, baby!” he calls out and you can tell he is in a great mood just from his voice. You force your best fake smile to your lips, not wanting to ruin his mood with your petty party. He walks in, eyes falling on your sitting figure at the table and though you don’t know it, his heart flutters, like always, even after three years together.

Harry is obsessed with you, to say the least. Every little thing about you fascinates him, he loves everything about you, inside and out, just the way you are and he vowed to never stop telling you how much he adorns you.

“Hey there, wha’cha doin’?” he asks, kissing into your hair as he scans over the papers on the table.

“Oh, just… some extra work,” you shrug, chewing on your bottom lip again, the skin is about to break soon for sure.

“Baby, you work too much. Take some time off,” he tells you, shuffling around before he disappears in the bedroom for a moment before reappearing. “Fancy taking a bath with me?” he offers with a cheeky smile.

Bath, for that you’d have to be completely naked in front of him. That cannot happen in this state of mind.

“Um, I want to finish this. Maybe next time,” you tell him with a faint smile.

“You sure? I could massage your shoulders the way you like it so much, we could try that new bath salt we bought.”

“I really want to get this done, H. You just go and enjoy your bath,” you insist, the stern voice catches him a little by surprise.

“Everything alright baby?” His eyebrows pull together as he watches you from across the room.

“Mm, everything is fine. Just… working,” you tell him, eyes on the papers in front of you, pretending like you’re reading the lines, but in reality you have absolutely no idea what the words are saying. You hear him mumble a soft alright before he disappears again, leaving you alone.

A shaky breath leaves your trembling lips once you hear the water running in the bathroom. You bury your face in your palms, feeling so defeated and lost, the only thing that would comfort you would be Harry, but he cannot know what’s been going on in your head. He would never understand the struggle.

These thoughts usually only last for a few days. You always manage to forget about them eventually and return to normality, but not this time. Days turn into weeks and you find yourself sinking deeper into the hole you created for yourself. It starts to effect more parts of your life too. You’re having a hard time sleeping, always waking up several times during the night and sometimes you don’t even fall back asleep after one point. You lose your appetite, your mind tells you that you don’t need the nutritious food, that you need to lose the fat because that’s the only way you can keep Harry. You stop wearing your favorite clothes, always opt for the looser ones that hide every inch of your body and spend way too much time zoned out. You keep catching yourself completely lost in your thoughts during the day, thinking about how Harry might be comparing you to his exes every time he sees you, especially naked.

It’s been long since the last time you were intimate with Harry and you feel so bad for it, but you haven’t been able to bring yourself to bare your body in front of him. You always blew him off with some lame excuse and though there’s a chance he didn’t catch onto whatever was going on, now you know he is suspicious.

And you’re right. Harry notices every little thing, all the changes you’ve been going through. How you leave half your plate uneaten at dinner or how he finds you lying awake next to him in the middle of the night. He also notices how your favorite dresses and shirts remain untouched through the weeks even though you always wear them whenever you have the chance. Instead, he only sees you in big hoodies and loose pants, hiding the delicious curves of your body. But what truly pains him is how you’ve been ignoring all his tries to get close to you, the way you move away from his touch.

The last straw however happens on a Friday afternoon. You are sitting on the couch, mindlessly clicking through Netflix on the TV, trying to find something to watch when Harry is roaming through the cabinets in the bathroom, looking for the lotion he only uses when his skin feels extremely dry. He is going through every drawer and shelf, not finding what he is looking for, but then something odd catches his attention. Some weird named pills are sitting at the back of one of the shelves, hidden behind your perfumes so he hasn’t noticed it, but as he takes it out to have a better look at them, he almost throws them across the room. He has heard of similar pills before, they do more harm than help in weightloss, ruining your digestive system so badly you can actually get way more serious health problems if you use them too long. He frantically tears the box open and see that one third of the pills are gone, meaning that you’ve been taking them for a little while now behind his back.

With the box in his hand, he marches out to the living room where you are still and holding the pills up, he needs everything in him not to flip immediately.

“What the fuck are these?” he grits through his teeth. Your breath gets caught in your throat, he was never supposed to find those, but the cat’s out of the bad and now you can’t think of anything to bring up to your defense, knowing well he very much does not approve these kind of stuff.

“They are… I’m doing a cleanse,” you say, but there’s no use to lie.

“Drinking juice is for cleansing, this shit ruins your body,” he spats, throwing the box to the couch and you bite into your bottom lip, feeling the tears building up already. “Why would you even think about taking these?”

“Why?” you chuckle bitterly, your vision blurry from the tears. “Oh come on, don’t be so oblivious.”

“Y/N, these stuff are dangerous!” his anger turns into despair and concern as he sits beside you on the couch. “Baby, why did you take them?”

“Because I’m desperate, Harry!” you snap at him, the hot tears running down your cheeks. “You have no idea what I go through every fucking day!”

“Then talk to me! I want to know everything, I want to help you!” he pleads, reaching for your hand but you move away from him. “Please talk to me, baby!”

“So you can feed me lies? I’m not naïve, Harry,” you shake your head vigorously.

“What are you talking about?”

“Me! I’m talking about… this,” you growl gesturing at yourself. Harry runs his gaze down your body, but he still can’t figure out what this is about. You look beautiful, you always do in his eyes, he has no idea what the matter is. “I’m not one of your exes and all those models you’ve been rumored to date, Harry.”

“Okay and why is that relevant?”

“Because how am I the right person for someone like you? I’m not skinny, I’m not pretty and I’ll probably never be anything like the girls you dated. Why are you even wasting your time on me?”

By the time you get to the end, your tears are flooding and it breaks Harry’s heart to see you like this. Feeling so unworthy when in his eyes, you deserve everything. You’re perfect.

“I’m not wasting anything on you, baby. Why do you even want to look like them? I love every inch of your beautiful body!”

You flinch at his words. Deep down you know he means them, but there’s this barricade on your mind that tells you he is not serious, that he is only saying those things because he feels like he has to say them, not because he means them. That evil little voice in your head keeps telling you not to believe anything he says.

How could he love your body? How could a man like him be okay with someone like you? He doesn’t want to be with you. He’ll realize it and leave you!

You wish you could turn it off, you wish there was a switch that would shut out all these thoughts, but they just keep coming and coming. Harry watches you break right in front of his eyes and he has no idea what to do, panic is setting in. He feels like a failure that he let you reach this point.

“Baby, I fucking love you. Everything about you. Please don’t feel like you have to change for me. I love you no matter what, I think you are the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen. If you want to change, do it because you want to do it for yourself! You don’t have to change for me!”

He is practically begging, desperate to get you to understand that you’re perfect to him just the way you are, that he is in love with every inch of your beautiful body. He reaches out to your face again and though you move away again and it pains him so much, he still goes through with the action and cups your face in his hand. His clammy palm meets your wet cheek as he turns your head so he can look into your eyes, but you are relentlessly keeping your gaze focused anywhere but him.

You can’t bear looking at him or yourself, you just want to disappear, vanish into nothing, existence right now feels like just too much.

“Love, please look at me,” he quietly begs and you shake your head no. “Please, let me see those beautiful eyes I love so much.”

You wince at his words and try to turn your head away, but he cups the other side of your face with his other hand, keeping it in place. Your eyes are wired shut, you just can’t look at him, it would break you.

Harry is kneeling next to the couch now where you are curled up, your arms wrapped around your knees as you try to hide yourself. You feel so lost, so miserable and you wish he didn’t see you like this.

“I can’t, Harry. I can’t,” you tell him shaking your head vigorously. Part of you feels so stupid for acting like this, but you just can’t help it. It’s not you anymore who is in charge of your mind and actions, you feel more like just a witness who sees herself from the outside and she doesn’t like what she sees, not even a bit.

Harry pushes himself up from the ground and takes the thick blanket from the back of the couch, draping it over you as he shimmies himself next to you, arms wrapping around your frame as he pulls you to his chest, covering you with the warm blanket as if it was some kind of shield from the world and that’s exactly what you need. A hiding spot.

You let him pull you to him, face buried into his chest as you sob into his shirt, his strong arms holding you so tight, you feel like nothing can hurt you with his hold around you.

“I love you, baby. I really do. And when I tell you I find you gorgeous and that how pretty I think you are, that’s the truth. I love everything about you. Fell in love with you the first time I saw you and I’m not even joking. Please don’t ever think that you have to change for me.”

“But I can’t stop thinking about how I’m so different from the people you’ve dated,” you whimper shaking your head. His hands squeeze your upper arm as he kisses the crown of your head.

“Different is not bad, baby. I didn’t date my previous girlfriends because they looked the way they did. If I’m thinking about it, I should feel a little offended you think I’m so shallow to care about these stuff,” he jokes, earning a faint huff that’s somewhat a laugh from you.

“I just think that you’re not blind.”

“That is correct,” he chuckles. “I’m not blind, that’s why I find you so incredibly sexy.”

“I really don’t see how you can use the word sexy to describe me,” you mumble closing your eyes as a headache is starting to form from how hard you were crying just a minute ago.

“What do you think there is on you that I shouldn’t find attractive?” he prompts the question in all seriousness.

“Please don’t get me started because we’ll never get to the end of the list,” you huff bitterly. It might have come out as a joke but there’s just plenty of the truth behind your words.

“No, seriously. Tell me what you think I don’t find attractive on you,” he nags and you give up with a sigh.

“Okay, I… I have fat rolls on my stomach,” you start off with the first thing that’s on your mind.

“Everyone has them.”

“But not as big as mine. Yours aren’t as big as mine.”

“So what? I love your tummy. It’s soft, keeps your organs safe, especially the ones that will help us start a family at one point. For me, your tummy means that you are enjoying the wonderful foods of the world, that you are well and have a great appetite. I fucking hate it when girls are just poking around their salads, complaining about calories and all that stuff. Do you have any idea how much I enjoy watching you eat? I think it might be a fetish at this point,” he chuckles, making you laugh as you hide your face in his chest.

“Please don’t say that.”

“Why? I love it when you enjoy the food, I love trying new food with you, cooking with you, see you satisfied when you’re full, you have no idea how happy that makes me.”

“Really?” you ask in a whisper.

“Absolutely. I love your tummy, it’s just even more of you to love on,” he hums kissing the top of your head. “Okay, what’s next?”

“I have so many stretch marks,” you whine with a scowl. “They are everywhere, on my thighs, my ass, my stomach, fucking everywhere!”

“I literally have nothing else to say than… I couldn’t care less. Honestly, most people have them, baby. It’s natural, your body is changing, it’s just trying to keep up with the pace. But you know what I’m looking forward to?”

“What?”

“I can’t wait till you have marks from pregnancy, Love,” he huffs dreamily and you can’t help, but smile at his words. “Those marks will be a reminder to me how much you’ve gone through for our family. I think those are just so wonderful.”

“Why are you linking everything with having babies?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he asks chuckling. “Because I can’t wait to have babies with you. I can’t wait to see you with a big belly, so I can love on you, take care of you and that our babies, I’m so excited for that.”

“You want all of that… with me?”

“Have I not made it clear to you?” he asks, looking down at you and moving your head your eyes finally meet his. “I’m not just saying all those things for nothing, Love. I see my future with you.”

Closing your eyes you let his words sink in and for the first time in a while, your mind is not trying to convince you that he is not telling you the truth.

“Okay, next,” he mumbles, his fingers dancing up and down your arm as he holds you tight.

“My boobs are weird,” you say out loud, cringing at your own words. You hate talking about this.

“Excuse me? What’s wrong with my girls?” he gasps, making you laugh.

“They are not as round as I would want them to be, a little saggy because of the weight gaining.”

“But they are boobs,” he points out, making you furrow your eyebrows.

“Yeah?”

“Okay, so that’s all that matters. Boobs are great, nothing else matters. Men are simple, baby.”

“I can’t believe you,” you laugh swatting his chest playfully.

“What? I mean it! Do you think I think about all that stuff when I see your boobs? My mind goes: Oh my God, boobs! And that’s it. I just get excited to see your tits.”

“You are such a pig,” you laugh, snuggling closer to his side.

“Are you shaming me for my preferences now?”

“Your preferences?”

“Yeah, you are my preference,” he remarks smugly, kissing into your hair again. “I literally don’t know how to say it differently, and I’m sorry for being so vulgar in advance…”

“Oh God,” you mumble, already fearing what he’s going to say.

“But you have nothing to worry about until you see my dick getting hard at the sight of you.”

“That was highly inappropriate.”

“Yeah, but it’s true. I find you sexy and there’s evidence. I can’t really hide it,” he chuckles and when you look up at him you see a dirty, twisted smirk on his pink lips. “Please don’t ever doubt any of my feelings for you, alright?” he asks in a more serious tone. “And if you feel like this again, I want you to tell me. Those pills and bottling it up inside you don’t help. I don’t want you to risk your health just because you have doubts about me. I love you, and when I say that I mean that I love all of you. Everything.”

“Okay,” you answer in a faint whisper.

“Don’t just say okay because you want me to get out of your hair. Promise me that you won’t keep it to yourself. I want to help you, I want to be there for you like you are always there for me.”

“I promise,” you nod, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip.

“Alright. Have you eaten today?” he softly asks and you fear to give him an answer, because you haven’t been able to push anything else down than just your morning coffee. “Okay, then let me make you something.” “I don’t… I’m not hungry��” you quietly tell him.

“Mhm, then I’ll make something for myself and being the romantic boyfriend that I am, I’m gonna share it with my lovely girlfriend as a cute gesture,” he says, rephrasing what he said earlier. You don’t argue with him, just let him slip out of your hold and go to the kitchen to make something for the two of you.

It’s a tiny step on a lifelong journey and you know that. You know that your feelings and opinion about yourself won’t change from one day to the other, but you slowly start to accept it. You have a lot ahead of you, the road might get bumpy sometimes and maybe other times you’ll have to take a few steps back. But at the end, you know it’s all going to be alright, because you will never be alone. Harry will be your greatest support through it all and now you can finally see that.

Don’t Worry - The 1975

When you're in love but you don't know what to do with it When blackness hangs overhead like a cloud

Don't worry, darlin' 'Cause I'm here with you Don't worry, darlin' The sun will shine through

When you wake up and you don't know what day it is When the pain flows through your heart and your bones

Don't worry, darlin' 'Cause I'm here with you Don't worry, darlin' The sun will shine through

When you feel no one knows just what you're goin' through When your insides feel much colder than snow

Don't worry, darlin' 'Cause I'm here with you Don't worry, darlin' Oh, don't worry, darlin' Don't worry, darlin' I'll always love you You

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

#playlistficchallenge #harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff

[liaarchived]

Hi fellow Taurus bestie…I’m a long time reader and first time anon 🙈 so I got this idea and I had to share incase you wanna write about it 👀 anyways…I was listening to Slow Down by Chase Atlantic and this time the lyric “she said fuck me like I’m famous, I said oh-kay” stuck out to me and I was like wait a min 🤔✋🏼 what if there was a fic where the guy (I thought of Bakugo/Kuroo/Iwaizumi 🙈🙈🙈) was a singer and the reader is his crush/new gf…?? Anyways!! They’re getting ‘into it’ after a show/concert and she’s like… “if you can fuck as good as you sing, show me.” And he’s like bet and he wrecks her, breaks her back and all that

Anyways lemme know whatcha think bestie…🙈 I was kinda nervous to send this but I was like fuck it lemme do it before I forget and yeah…

A/N: Taurus Bestie🥺 You’re brain is immaculate please. Don’t ever hesitate to send me asks! I love interacting with y’all, I’m just not very good at initiating :(( I love this idea so much and I really thought it fit Iwaizumi well so I hope you enjoy!

Prompt: “If you can fuck as good as you can sing, show me.”

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Iwaizumi x fem!reader

Warnings: spit, oral (reader receiving), daddy kink, impact play, degradation, praising, swearing, hair pulling, choking, creampie, breeding if you squint, heavily unedited bc I hate editing my own smut😔✊🏼

Word count: 2.43k

You and Iwaizumi had been friends since high school, but even so, you had never been to one of his band’s shows before. Sure you had heard him sing many times and you knew he was talented, but this experience, getting to watch him from a VIP box while hundreds of thousands of people were cheering for him and singing along to his music? It was absolutely surreal. You admired how Iwaizumi seemed to belong on that stage.

However, the scene of Iwaizumi singing his heart out was doing things to you. Tonight was the last show of his tour, after that he was planning to go on hiatus for a few months before going back to the studio with his band. This was it. You had backstage privileges, courtesy of the singer himself, and you planned on making your move tonight. When Iwa left for his tour at the beginning of the year you were faced with some surprising feelings.

You realized you missed him more than just a friend should…

The set ended and the crowd was still going wild. You make your way backstage as the band plays a final encore song. When Iwaizumi emerges from the stage, sweat gleaming off of his ink littered muscles you practically salvate at the image. The lead singer immediately sets his eyes on you and makes a beeline towards you.

Iwaizumi doesn’t give you a chance to say anything. It had been over a year since he had last seen you in person and his adrenaline was running high. It was now or never. So he scooped you into his arms and crashed his lips to yours. As soon as the shock passes, you reciprocate his extremely passionate kiss.

Iwaizumi hums in approval at your quick submission and bites your lower lip before pulling away, letting a string of saliva form keep the two of you connected before it snaps.

“Shit, Yn. You know how long I’ve wanted to do that. I missed you so much it was maddening.” He lays his sweaty forehead on yours, pupils blown wide with adrenaline and lust.

You giggle at his declaration. “Missed you too, Haji. Where are you staying?”

A deep chuckle escapes his swollen lips. “At a hotel, Princess. Why?”

“Want you to show me if you can fuck me as good as you can sing.” You grin devilishly and Iwa returns the expression.

The musician opens his mouth to say something but is cut off by one of his band members who has already been eyeing you. “Hey, Iwa! Ya coming to the after party or what?”

Iwaizumi slings his arm over you. “Nah, man. Go on ahead without me. I got a different party to attend.”

The band member chuckles and shakes his head before waving and taking his exit.

You two lead by example and take your own exit.

The second the two of you make it to Iwa’s room, he has you pressed against the wall with his lips attached to yours. His tongue has already made it past your lips, exploring the cavern of your mouth, occasionally dancing with yours. You moan into his mouth, and as much as you don’t want to, you have to pull away for air.

Iwaizumi takes this opportunity to trail kisses along your jaw and down your neck. His hands, which were previously holding onto your hips in a bruising grip, move up your torso under your shirt. He makes a delighted chuckle when he notices that you're not wearing a bra.

“Hmm not wearing anything underneath your shirt to my show? Is that why your tits looked absolutely delectable bouncing around while you danced during the concert, huh?”

You whine as his hands grope at your chest and tweak your nipples. “Hah-fuck- wanted you to have something to look at, Haji-“

Iwaizumi cuts you off with a low growl and a particularly pleasing pinch of the nipples. “No. I’m not Haji right now, Princess. Say it.”

You let out a moan at the singer’s insinuation. ���Wanted you t-to have something to look at, Daddy.”

“Mmm well you certainly didn’t disappoint, Princess. Had a hard time keeping my eyes off of you.” Iwa chuckles while he lowers himself down to his knees. “Between how cute your ass looks in this short little skirt of yours and your tits I almost lost my damn mind. Messed up a few lyrics thanks to you, Princess.”

You whimper as the singer nips and sucks on your inner thighs. “Fuck- Daddy… Wanted your attention. Didn’t mean to distract you.”

Iwaizumi’s lips are everywhere but where you need him most. He continues to kiss your thighs and lick them and give the occasional bite and suck combo. Your hands find their way to his sweat damp hair and tug, earning a groan and particularly harsh bite from the man below you. You whimper at the singer’s rough ministrations. Your head is thrown back on the wall behind you as Iwaizumi inches closer to where you want him.

“Daddy, please~” You tug on his hair eliciting another groan.

Iwa looks up at you in amusement. “Hmm what do you want, Princess? Gotta use your words, Pretty Baby.”

You huff in frustration but indulge him anyway. “Need your mouth and tongue, please~”

A chuckle can be heard but you’re no longer looking at Iwaizumi. “I’m giving you my mouth and tongue aren’t I. Princess? Is it that you need them somewhere specifically?” Iwa kisses your lower pelvis, just above your clothed clit.

“I- hah- Fuck, Daddy need your mouth and tongue and fingers in my pussy and on my clit. Please, please, please~ Need you s’ ba- ngh~”

Iwa cuts you off by the sting of him ripping your panties apart and diving his tongue into your drooling cunt. The slurping noises he’s making are obscene but you don’t have time to be embarrassed because at that very moment the singer replaced his tongue with two fingers and reattached his mouth to your clit. You moan and tug harshly on his hair, Iwa lets out his own moan that reverberates throughout your entire being.

“Mmh- Fuck~ feels so good, Daddy. S’ much better than my own fingers- Oh my- fu- fuck right there please keep touching me right there, Daddy…”

You're lost in your own pleasure and you don’t even notice the way Iwaizumi is watching you. His eyes gleaming with pride and lust at the thought of you feeling so good because of him. He can feel himself growing uncomfortably hard but ignores the nagging heat pooling in his lower abdomen. His focus solely on making you cum at least once before he lets himself fuck you senseless.

Judging from your increasingly desperate pleas, you were close to giving Iwa what he wanted. Your fists in the man’s hair are clenched so fiercely that your knuckles have turned a lighter shade than the rest of your skin. Your breathing has increased in both speed and volume, moans and whimpers constantly spilling from your lips, keeping you from forming any coherent sentences.

Iwa chuckles and you nearly screech at the sensation that shoots through your body from his amusement. “You gonna cum, Princess? You sound so damn desperate. Sounds like you’re gonna cum all over my mouth, hm?”

It takes everything you have to respond, knowing if you don’t it may not end well for you. “Hah— F-fuck— mmmm gon’ cum— wan’ cum— Daddy~”

“Do it, Princess. I want to drink up all that you got.” Iwa starts curling his fingers inside of you and that’s what does you in. Your back arches and you nearly scream from the sudden burst of white hot pleasure. Iwa doesn’t slow down his ministrations either. His fingers curling incessantly and tongue lapping up everything you have to offer him. Your mind becomes fuzzy and you don’t even register Hajime picking you up and tossing you onto the king sized bed.

In your dazed state you hardly recognize that Iwaizumi is speaking to you until his hand is cradling your cheek. “Hey. Princess. You with me? I need you to tell me you’re good before I move further, okay?”

“Daddy… ‘m good, want you to fuck me now, please~” You sigh at the thought of Iwa filling you up and begin to grow impatient.

Hajime chuckles. “That’s my pretty baby. Can you strip and get on your hands and knees for me, Princess?”

You nod and quickly remove your remaining clothing. You make a show of turning around and arching your back just to wiggle your ass up at Iwaizumi. A low groan can be heard as a result of you teasing the man behind you. Then suddenly your body is jolted forward as you mewl at the impact of Hajime’s palm connecting roughly with your ass.

“Such a fuckin’ tease, Princess. Havin’ your tits out on display, wearin’ that cute lil’ skirt, and now shakin’ your plump ass at me. Hmm,” Iwa caresses the cheek he had just previously assaulted. “ I would punish you if I didn’t wanna stuff this pretty lil’ cunny of yours with my fat cock. Maybe next time, hm? Bet you would like that wouldn’t you, Princess?”

You take in a shuddering breath before responding desperately. “N-no not doin’ it on purpose, daddy. Promise~ Wanna be your good girl please~”

“I think you’re body is betrayin’ you, Princess, the way you just gushed from a single smack to the ass tells me otherwise. I think you like being a naughty little cockslut, hmm, like being punished. But I guess for now we can pretend you’re my good girl, hm?” With that Iwa rubs the tip of his cock up and down through your folds lamenting his previous words of stating just how wet you were for the musician. “You ready for me, Princess?”

Instead of answering you push back into Iwa’s touch and sink the tip of Iwa’s length into your dripping entrance with ease. Large fingers dig into your plush ass to stop you from going further and lull a whimper to pass through your lips. Iwa leans down and growls into your ear. “Such a fuckin’ impatient and bratty little slut, hm? Couldn’t wait for me to put it in. Had to take it upon yourself?”

As Iwa growls into your ear about how much of a brat you are as he’s sinking himself deeper into your pussy. Your eyes roll back into your head. His sheer size alone brings you close to your second orgasm. You can hear breathy curses fall from Iwa’s lips. His fingers dig deeper into your ass as you dig into the pillow you’re whimpering into.

“F-fuck, Princess, you’re so fucking tight. This pretty little cunny is already squeezing me so tight. You that close, pretty baby? Just from me putting my cock in you, fuck that’s so fuckin’ cute.” Hajime releases one of his grips on your cheeks to tangle his fingers in your hair and experiments with a gentle tug. He’s more than pleased with your reaction as your back arches further and multiple whimpers stumble out of you.

The coil that’s been building in your stomach is snapped by Iwaizumi bottoming out with his tip prodding your cervix. You wail and violently clench around the musician as your vision blurs. You’re babbling nonsense while Iwaizumi throws his head back.

“Oh fuck, Princess. You really came from me just bottoming out. Fuck, your such a desperate little cockslut. Feel so good, sucking me in like this-- shit think you got one more in ya my pretty little cockslut?”

You whimper and plead. “D-daddy, please~ Want you to move-- need you to fuck me so good~ Please~”

Iwa amusedly chuckles at your babbling but grants your wish anyway. His hips draw back slowly, allowing you to feel every single throbbing vein on his dick and once he’s pulled out to just the tip he lands a harsh smack to your ass and snaps his hips into you. His rough pace doesn’t let up after that. He’s ramming into you as you cover your screams with the pillows underneath you. Iwa clearly has other ideas, though, as he tugs on your hair to pull you off the slobber stained pillow.

“Shit-- Wanna hear those pretty screams, Princess. Let everyone know that ‘m making you feel good okay?” After no reply Hajime tugs on your hair again,

“Y-yes daddy! You’re making me feel so f-fuckin’ goo’! Gonna make me cum ‘gain- mmmm fuck~” Your eyes roll to the back of your head as Iwa brings you up to his chest and changes the angle.

He’s reaching further into you and if it weren’t for his arms securely holding you-- one wrapped around your waist, the other crossed your chest and his hand gripping your neck-- You probably would be thrashing in pleasure. Iwa leans down to place his mouth right next to your ear and growls.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck pretty baby. ‘M so fuckin’ close. You gonna cum with me, Princess? Gonna cream all over me while I fill you up with my cum? Bet you'd like that hm? Your slutty little cunt filled to the brim with my cum?” Iwa moves his hold around your waist to play with your clit.

Your head falls back onto his shoulder and let out a silent scream. “Shi- oh my- Fuck, daddy, gon’ cum, want you to cum with me. Cum in me, please! Fuck! Daddy ‘m cumming- shit~ “

You’re seeing stars and screaming incoherently as you vaguely register Iwa’s grunts and sloppy thrusts. His hot seed spurting into you as he rides out both your orgasms. Your vision comes back to you and you feel yourself slump into the musician's hold. You hum contentedly as you feel Iwa begin to soften inside of you.

He peppers you with kisses and nuzzles himself into your neck, causing you to giggle. “Fuck, Princess. You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hold ya like this.”

“Hmm what a couple of idiots huh?” Iwa looks up at you and chuckles.

“I guess so,” you squeal as Iwa flips the two of you so you’re on your back with him hovering you, expertly keeping himself inside of you, “we’ve got some catching up to do now don’t we, Princess?”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “W-what do you mean? We’re not done?”

Iwa chuckles as he slowly begins to pump himself into you. You whine from sensitivity. “Princess, we’re just getting started.”

Hq!! Permanent Taglist: @katsulovee

#📬. tam gets mail #{. 👻} #{. toorusangel} #{. written request} #hq #hq!! #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #iwaizumi #hajime #hajime iwaizumi #iwachan #hq smut #hq fic #iwaizumi x female reader #iwaizumi smut #iwaizumi fic

[ptergwen]

hi val! i'm the one who sent in that peter annoying reader request. god that was such a good one i felt it 😂 can i ask for a part 2 for that?? maybe the reader somehow tells brad that she has a crush on peter so that was why she was so hurt he made fun of her, and brad helps her plotting against peter, it ends up peter being absolutely mad?? How it ends is up to you val! Thank you!!

gotcha

w/c: 1.4k

warnings: swearing and jealous peter hehe

a/n: here’s part one :,) i really like this concept so i ended up doin a oneshot

-

“ok, y/n. be honest,” brad prompts you, the two of you walking home from decathlon practice. “were you really crying because you didn’t remember the first president?” his lips pull into a knowing smirk. you bite a smile back and hold on to your backpack straps. “i mean, that’s part of it.” “say more,” he bumps your shoulder with his.

“i was crying because peter probably thinks i’m stupid now,” you admit, your grip tightening on your backpack. brad doesn’t try to cover up his scoff. “who cares what peter thinks?” squinting at him, you hit his arm lightly. “i do. he’s my friend.” “so am i. it shouldn’t be any different,” brad points out, clearly offended.

the sidewalk is empty except for you two, so you stop walking. brad does the same and makes a face at you. “right?” “no. i...” you take in a breath. you’re not looking forward to his reaction. “i like him. i like peter.” brad’s face goes from confused to terrified.

him and peter have hated each other for as long as you’ve known them. it’s why you keep him separate from the rest of your friends.

“he made you feel like crap, y/n! he’s a-“ “don’t call him a dick again,” you cut brad off and start to walk without him. he quickly catches up, his eyes still fixed on you. “i don’t get it. the dude pretty much says he’s better than you, and you like him,” brad tries to change your mind. too bad for him, you’re not easily persuaded.

“he was just playing around. he didn’t know i was actually upset, or he would’ve stopped,” you defend peter and your taste in guys. “we do that.” “y/n, please. you have so many other options,” brad all but begs, moving so he’s in front of you. he’s walking backwards now. you step past him and leave him behind you.

“no, brad. i’ve liked him for a while already,” the hurt is evident in your voice. you didn’t expect him to be happy about this, but jeez. could he show some support? brad picks up on your mood change and feels bad about it. unlike peter, he has self awareness. “i’m... sorry. are you gonna, like, tell him?” he asks with a nervous smile.

you smile back, yours wicked. “sort of. that’s where you come in.”

-

the next day at school, peter looks for you first thing. everyone is at your locker. everyone including brad. whatever, that’s not important right now. his main focus is on telling you how awful he feels about yesterday.

mj notices him walk up first, so she takes a step back to open the circle. she presses her lips together and clears her throat. that gets ned’s attention. ned realizes peter is here and offers an awkward smile. peter nods at him and turns to you. his eyes are already pleading.

the smile that was just on your face fades out. “oh,” is all you murmur out, then add, “hi.” “hi,” peter drags the word out. he glances over at brad. he’s standing too close to you for peter’s liking. squeezing his eyes shut, they land on you when he opens them.

“listen, y/n. i’m so sorry about everything i said. i didn’t realize i was the only one laughing,” peter tells you, every word sounding genuine. ned looks between the two of you sadly. “there’s.... there’s no excuse,” he keeps going. your features soften from the look of guilt on his face.

mj nods at you as a way of saying to let him finish. she would never let shit like this slide, so you know peter has to mean it.

“and i don’t think any less of you. it was a mistake,” peter’s eyes drop down to the floor. “i’ve said the wrong answer before, too.” those words heal what the ones from yesterday broke. you’re fully ready to forgive him now. “thank you. that made me feel a lot better,” you give peter a small smile.

“we’re good,” you assure him, peter now sporting a grin of his own. that is, until brad throws an arm around your shoulders. he’d almost forgotten he was there. you lean back against his chest as he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

huh?

the rest of the group gets into a conversation about what you should do over the weekend. guess that means brad will be there. peter doesn’t hear a single word because he’s too busy staring at you. you’re cuddling in the middle of the hallway with the only person on earth he completely hates.

brad is right on time whenever he messes up. the one time it’s with you and now he’s, what, your boyfriend? it’s not fair.

you’d drafted a plan with brad last night to get this exact response. you convinced him to fake date you. peter would hopefully get jealous, which he did, and that would prove if he likes you or not. it’s also good payback for making you cry over abraham lincoln.

brad didn’t want to do it at first because anything that ends with you dating peter, he refused to be part of. you brought up the fact that he would get to piss him off all day. then, he fell in love with the idea.

-

you stay attached to brad’s side all day. holding hands when you walk from class to class, sitting close to him at lunch. he’s never joined your group for lunch before. plus, you normally sit next to peter. he has to sit next to betty today. she talks a lot.

part of peter thought you liked him. he has other friends who are girls, and he doesn’t act the same with them. is your banter not flirting? did he interpret everything wrong? apparently he did because now you’re kissing brad’s cheek while he sips his orange juice.

that’s it for him. he gets up from the bench without any explanation and takes off, not bothering to bring his stuff. you pull away from brad and frown.

“i think it worked,” he comments, casually wiping his cheek with the back of his hand. ned and mj share a look. “you’re aren’t... dating?” she points at you and brad, which you shut down. “no, we’re fake dating. i like peter.” “oh, shit. you do? he likes you too!” ned blurts out. betty’s eyes grow the size of her whole face.

“how did i miss this? you guys don’t tell me anything!” she scolds you all and grabs your hand. “you have to go after him.” you look over at brad, who gives you a nod of approval. he’ll learn to hate peter a little less for you. “i am,” you decide and quickly slip out from the table. everyone shouts good luck wishes after you.

-

you find peter in a stairway on the second floor. he takes it to get to his next class, so you thought to come here. he’s sitting on the staircase with his arm on the railing. his head is leaning on his arm. he looks completely defeated. you might have broken his heart instead of made him jealous.

peter lifts his head when he sees you coming up the stairs. you wordlessly sit down next to him. clearing your throat, you get ready to say something. he talks first.

“i thought you and brad were just friends,” peter states with no emotion behind it. your heart starts thumping in your chest. “we are.” he licks his lips out of habit. “doesn’t look like it.” “i asked him to fake date me, peter,” you admit and search for his eyes, turning to face him on the stair. his eyebrows furrow. “what?”

“i wanted to make you jealous. i didn’t know you’d end up like... this,” you gesture to the mopey state he’s in. peter shakes his head in disbelief. “can we go back to the first part? you wanted to make me jealous?” a smile spreads across your face. “yeah.”

your lips suddenly land on his cheek, leaving both of them pink. he touches where you kissed him and grins. “if that didn’t make it clear, i like you,” you laugh out and scoot back from him. “i like you, too,” peter takes your hand before you go too far. he laces your fingers together.

“ned already told me.” you squeeze his hand and he lets out a breath. “i can’t even be mad at him.”

peter has a pretty great best friend. you do, too. you actually got brad to help you pull this whole thing off. he might not be so bad after all.

#tom holland #peter parker #tom holland fluff #peter parker fluff #spiderman #mcu #peter parker imagine #peter parker fic #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker smut #tom holland smut #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction

[apathycares]

Scared and Alone: Part 2

Hello! This is the long awaited continuation of Bakugou’s mom taking in a mute and homeless teen ask (here!). I’m pretty sure y’all forgot about it considering I wrote it two years ago, but uh...actually I’m sorry bye.

※ Warnings: Swearing (Bakugou family lol)

※ Characters: Short appearances from the Bakugou family, a lil implied Bakugou x Reader

He still hates you

You were still living in his house, and his parents were still adamant on you staying - the Bakugous even bought you a little white board so you could communicate with them 

Precluding him, of course

For some reason, he was always expressing his anger at the situation. Katsuki keeps telling his parents you should be thrown out before they get sued by your folks, demands to know where you came from and why you couldn’t talk.

You’d run away when he starts his usual bombarding

He’d chase you

His mom would destroy him

It wasn’t like you didn’t want to be around him. On the contrary, you didn’t feel too happy about being a burden on them, but the feeling was made especially worse when you couldn’t be in peace with their only son

You tried though, you really did.  

As soon as he’d walk in, you’d light up and start scribbling on your board, wanting to welcome him home, but he’d simply kick off his shoes and barrel past you. 

Katsuki’s first stop would be the kitchen, and as he’s figuring out what to drink, seemingly ignoring your presence when you’d squeeze under him and fill up a glass with ice, up until you’d hold it towards him with a smile. For a moment, you thought you’d finally cracked him when he put his arms around you. You grinned happily, wrapping your arms around him back, being mindful of the glass, before he started crushing you.

A short tussle later, you’re on the other side of the kitchen island, panting and glaring at him. What the hell was his problem?! You angrily flipped the board towards him with a sneer, blinking when he merely grinned and stole your glass of ice.

“Hmph, that’ll teach ya. Stay out of my way, muzzle.”

Muzzle?! He read after you scribbled some more words. Well jokes on you, I like crushing hugs :p

Katsuki lunged for you over the island, screaming profanities as you barely dodged his crackling hands and bolted out the kitchen, hot on your trail. He narrowed his eyes when you skipped over the couch in the living room, and made it on the other side of the long dinner table, matching his position so he couldn’t get you, but just as he put a foot on the table, and you backed away to run past it and back into the kitchen, his mother’s shriek hit their ears.

“What the hell are you doin’ on my table, Katsuki?!”

You really tried.

This game of cat and mouse lasted for weeks, with him getting more and more handsy with you and you getting more and more bold with your words

It seemed like no matter what you tried, no matter how much you tried to make this easy for the both of you, he’d either ignore you or choose violence

At this point, you’d realized there was no point trying to make friends with him, so you just resigned to returning what he dished out to you, or plain old ignoring him back - two can play this game. His family’s approval would just have to do.

But Bakugou wasn’t having that either

You’re just chilling on the couch after helping Mitsuki with the laundry, the TV playing a plague of a drama that you watched when nothing good was on the other channels, barely glancing at Katsuki who took it upon himself to walk right in front of the TV as he made his way to his room. You were a little peeved, knowing he did that on purpose, but you refused to give him any attention.   He kicked your shin as he walked past, his lips quirking when you shoot him a heated glare before tearing the eye contact between you and settling on the TV again. You don’t notice it, but he turned behind the couch, vacantly watching your show for a moment, before tucking his manga under the arm that held his drink and dropping his now free hand onto your head. You whined and clawed at his hand as he pushed you lower and lower by the head, before ruffling it and walking off. And just as he planned, you padded after him.

“What.” He gruffed as you blocked the door to his room, face as impassive as your own. You grabbed his drink, chugged it halfway, and then delicately shoved it into his hand before walking off. You heard a mock, “Ohhhh~! What a rebel!”, followed by a muffled chuckle and a door closing, pulling a little smile from you.

Wait, no! You pushed the smile away, frowning forcibly as you went down the stairs. He wasn’t about to get an iota of friendliness from you ever again! 

His father walked in just as you made a disgusted face, before both of you stared horrified at each other. 

I’m okay! Promise - you scribbled frantically.

Besides his incessant teasing, you remained as unmoving as a mountain, doing what was needed of you and meeting his advances in stride

He eventually stopped telling his parents to send you away, and he started to spend more time at UA on the weekends instead of at home

As much as you didn’t like it, you kind of started missing his looming presence. You thought you were going crazy, but then dismissed it as human nature searching for drama all the time

Or something

After skipping out on coming home two weekends in a row, his mother bothered him enough to come home the next

You carried your day as you would, with a contemplative Bakugou watching you 

It got so bad, the way he was lowkey following you around all of a sudden, so you decided to confront him

You randomly turned away from the running microwave, biting your tongue to hold back a giggle when Bakugou quickly pushed himself off the island and stuffed his head into the fridge, pretending to search for something. Pretending, because he stood there before the whole time you were unwrapping your food and setting the microwave.

Bakugou blinked when he turned around and found you right behind him, smiling as you swayed on your heels, before showing him your board. Welcome home! Do you wanna share the food? he read, before narrowing his eyes at you. “I’ve been here for half a day, are you dense?” 

Yeah, and? 

“What’s with the attitude?!” He seethed, an inch away from your face, before he caught himself and backed off. Rubbing his nape, he stared at the eggs as he mumbled, “What’ve ya been up to?” After a beat of uncontrollable silence, he remembered he had to face you to see what you said, but when he does, his crimson eyes widen when he found you simply staring at him with sparkling eyes and a quivering lip, before you curiously started hitting him with your board.

“HEY- WHAT THE FUCK??” Bakugou grabbed your board mid-air after three and a half hits and took it away, pulling your cheek with one hand with an angry pout and then pausing. “So? What did you do today?” He stared awkwardly at you for a beat, before holding out your board back to you so you could tell him, but to his irritation, you gasped and took a step back. “What’s wrong with you today muzzle?”

You grabbed your board, erasing your words six times before you nervously flipped it towards him.

You didn’t kill me after I assaulted you - does this mean we’re friends now?! 

Bakugou chased you out of the kitchen, his cheeks flushing deeper and deeper as he heard your disgustingly cute giggles when you disappeared past a corner

It took some time, but you think he’d accepted you

Mostly - he had a funny way with consistency you see. You couldn’t really tell with him. 

But you knew one thing: he was comfortable with you now

And how were you so sure? You plopped on his lap about eighteen times after he pushed you off, and on the nineteenth, he just grumbled and left you there! Progress, amiright?

“You probably think you won,” Katsuki’s gruff voice whispered hotly against your ear, eliciting an involuntary shiver from you as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you flush on his chest. He chuckled as he nuzzled onto your neck, feeling you relaxing against him before he continued, “and I’ll admit, you’ve got me a little confused sometimes myself, but...”

But...? You thought, your heart racing in your chest.

“I guess I’ll take you seriously now.” He declared, sliding his hands from your waist to clasp around your stomach. “Game on.”

Bakugou started crushing you.

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia headcannons #boku no hero imagines #boku no hero headcanons #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bnha bakugou #bakugou #Katsuki Bakugō #bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff #mha bakugou #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki headcannons #bakugou katuski x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo imagine #katsuki bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo headcanons #apathycares

[desiraypark]

Hi! Hope all is well. I’d love to read a Ralph Angel Friends to Lovers fic?

Hello there! Thank you for this request! I hope you like it. I chose 12. "I want to ruin our friendship" from the Friends to Lovers Prompt List.

AUGUST

"Thank you so much for all of this, Ralph Angel."

Just as reserved and laid-back as he was in high school, Ralph Angel Bordelon looked into your eyes for a millisecond, looked away, smiled faintly, and nodded.

"Won't no problem. I was happy to do it."

You'd finally gotten the young people of St. Josephine's Community Center involved in several summer volunteer activities throughout the parish. Some provided assistance at an elementary school, others stepped in at a local museum. The kids who were more into outdoorsy-work helped out on the Bordelon land. They started a garden, did some painting, and on some days, listened to Ralph Angel (at first, reluctantly) talk about the history of the land as they performed menial farming tasks.

Ralph Angel was reluctant to supervise any children on his land. Especially high schoolers. But he knew that if you were the one monitoring and guiding them, they just might be alright.

"I knew that things had been rough for your family. But I didn't know how deep shit had gotten," you said. "I appreciate you bein' gracious enough to do this despite everything..."

He smiled again, and looked off toward the land. His thumb and fingers pressed against the little envelope you'd given him, he let the 'Thank You' card pivot back and forth--to and away from the heel of his palm.

"Gotta learn to move on, even when it feels like the world is tryna force you to stay stuck..." he said, almost as if he were having a personal epiphany. Not necessarily addressing you. Then, he returned his attention to you.

"I've got some lemon pie. You wanna sit down and have a slice?"

OCTOBER

It was harvest time in St. Jo.

Ralph Angel had reached out to you to talk about sending in volunteers to help out. The sun was bright and the sky was blue, but there was still a slight breeze in the air as you walked back toward the house from the vast field of growing sugar cane.

"So, yeah. Of course, I don't want no kids comin' out here to work the land or nothin' like that. Just clearin' up things that don't belong. Providin' water to the workers. Lil' stuff like that..."

"I'll see what I can do," you said.

The two of you walked back in silence, and just as you reached the edge of the field, in the corner of your eye, you saw Ralph Angel put his hands in his pocket.

"I'm really proud of you, you know that?" he suddenly said.

"Proud of me for what?" you asked, chuckling with slight embarrassment.

Ralph Angel thought long and hard about his response. "You was always special."

You playfully rolled your eyes. "Special how?"

Ralph Angel slowed his steps, and you did the same. The two of you faced each other. "You always cared about people. Even in school, you acted like everybody's auntie."

"Are you tryna call me old?"

Ralph Angel chuckled and shook his head 'no'.

"I mean, you always acted like everybody's cool, young auntie. You doin' this kinda work don't surprise me."

You raised your eyebrow, approving of Ralph Angel's assessment.

"I know you could have gone anywhere in this country you wanted to. You stayin' in St. Jo' means a lot."

The two of continued walking toward your car.

"I didn't need much convincing. I tried Hampton when I was there. But my heart is always gonna be here..." you said. You rested against the driver's door of your car and Ralph Angel stood in front of you.

"These last few months..." he glanced up at his home, then back at you. "I've been feeling like I missed out on you. Like we should have been friends back then."

Suddenly, Ralph Angel looked you directly in your eyes and your heart began to pound.

Ralph Angel rarely looked people in the eyes. Even in high school. If Ralph Angel Bordelon ever looked you dead in the eyes, it meant that he was inexplicably angry with you--or inexplicably attracted to you. No one knew what was going on in his mind until he gave you a telescopic view of it through his pupils.

So, time suddenly stood still. You saw your own chest move up and down in your peripheral, and heard the air leave and return to your nostrils. Then, you swallowed and tilted your head to the side.

"Well, we're friends now. I think..."

Ralph Angel's eyes finally left yours--taking the heat away. But you realized he was looking at your chest. No...your shoulder. He adjusted the collar of your cardigan and looked into your eyes again. "I think I wanna be more than just friends."

You took another deep breath and fought the sudden urge to pull Ralph Angel toward you.

"Tryin' to be more than friends ain't gon' do nothin' but ruin our friendship," you said. You added a forced laugh.

Ralph Angel stepped closer to you.

Your eyes nearly fluttered as his scent filled your nostrils. A woodsy, but sweet, cinnamon-like cologne. The heat radiated from his body--gnawing at you once more.

"I wanna ruin our friendship," he said.

#ralph angel bordelon x reader #ralph angel bordelon #queen sugar fanfiction #ralph angel bordelon fanfiction

[whumperooni]

sick

Pairing: Satan x Reader, Lucifer x Reader

Tags/Warnings: jealousy, cucking, very submissive reader, fingering, violence and blood mention, kinda toxic relationship,

Word count: 3k

A/N: this popped into my head and wouldn’t let go so i had to write it u.u

✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣

It makes him sick.

“You picked the red coat? No, no- darling, go put on the black one I bought you. You look so beautiful in it.”

It makes him sick.

“The Fall? Absolutely not- you’re going with me to Lord Diavolo’s tonight. He wants to see you, kitten, and we’re not going to disappoint him.”

It makes him sick.

“Now, now- that’s enough. You had a big lunch today; you don’t need to gorge yourself anymore.”

It makes him sick.

Teeth gritting, Satan watches as Lucifer fixes a diamond collar upon your neck. Fists clenching, Satan watches as Lucifer runs his gaze over your small form and reaches to adjust the hem of your dress.

“Perfect,” Lucifer murmurs. “You look perfect.”

You blink up at him, docile and sweet, and Satan has to look away from the way you smile at his big brother, has to look away from the way Lucifer places his hand to the back of your neck and nudges you to walk out of the room.

You’re so complacent under Lucifer’s thumb- so content. It makes him sick how easily you bend to his will, how you change your life at his whims and submit to his demands without any hesitation or words of protest.

Lucifer doesn’t deserve you. He doesn’t deserve someone so sweet and so obedient, so very good.

He doesn’t deserve you and it makes Satan sick.

A scowl crosses his face and he crosses his arms over his chest, tries to ignore the ugly throb of envy that pulses in his chest.

“Satan? What’re you doin’ out here? I thought you were goin’ to Solomon’s tonight.”

The question distracts him just for a moment and Satan takes a breath, closes his eyes and nods.

Solomon’s, yes. He’s supposed to go to Solomon’s- he should go to Solomon’s.

It would be better to do that than stay at home and stew.

He leaves the room before Mammon can pull him into a senseless conversation and he heads to Solomon’s- brow furrowed and a stormy rage brewing through his mind.

✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣

Two in the morning is when Satan arrives home.

Two in the morning and he’s drunk, fumbling with his keys and shoving off his coat with more force than what’s necessary.

He shouldn’t have let Solomon talk him into drinking. He shouldn’t have accepted the wine that had been pushed his way nor the whiskey that Solomon had plied on him either.

But, he had.

He had and now he’s drunk, risking a hangover in the morning and a long day ahead of him.

Stupid. He was stupid.

A huff escapes him and Satan makes his way to the kitchen, grumbles to himself when he nearly trips over a rug.

It’s quiet in the kitchen- blissfully quiet, blissfully without any brothers scrounging around for a late night snack. Satan goes straight for the fridge and he gets himself a bottle of water, cracks it open and downs half of it in one go.

His head throbs whenever he finally stops drinking and Satan presses the bottle to his forehead, sighs as his eyes fall shut.

He’s so tired and the world is so fuzzy- he hates feeling like this.

He hates feeling likes this, but he hates more so whenever there’s a small sound behind him and he turns around to find you.

You wearing a silk nightgown and one of Lucifer’s shirts over it. You with a sleepy face and marks on your neck that your collar can’t quite hide. You who looks at him and then looks away, bites your lip and lowers your head meekly as his eyes narrow.

Of course- why shouldn’t he run into you tonight? Why shouldn’t he be tormented with the sight of you looking so lovely all wrapped up in scarlet silk, looking so thoroughly owned with his brother’s claims marking your soft body and the diamond studded leather wrapped around your throat?

Satan huffs and your eyes flit to them, flit away in a hurry.

You’re not supposed to look at him. Him, or any of his brothers. Any demon or human or angel, actually- only Lucifer, only Diavolo.

It makes him sick.

You don’t speak- you never speak unless spoken to- and that stokes the rage that had simmered down, brings it up to a dull roar that has his eyes narrowing, his lips dipping into a scowl.

So obedient, so submissive- there’s not a hint of a backbone in you and it makes him burn with anger, sear with frustration and fury.

God, he loathes- loves- how weak you are.

He watches as you squirm under his gaze and he watches as your mouth opens and shuts, as some quiet distress has your fingers curling into your nightgown. It only further serves to his eyes narrow even more and his teeth grit as your own dig deeper into your bottom lip, as it trembles.

Pathetic. You’re so very pathetic.

“Speak,” he finally snaps out, unable to stand the silence any longer.

The word is irritated, but your shoulders relax at it and Satan scoffs at the relieved sigh that sounds from you, the way your lashes flutter but your gaze stays on the floor.

“I- I wanted to get some water...I’m sorry...”

Meek, soft- your voice is so small and so apologetic and there’s no reason it should be. There’s no reason it should be so timid and there’s no reason he should enjoy it so much.

It’s disgusting. He’s disgusting.

“Then get some water,” he huffs, leaning against the counter. “No one’s stopping you.”

A tiny noise and your fingers twitch at your side, your cheeks heat as you take a few apprehensive steps forward. If he were just a bit more drunk, Satan might roll his eyes at the display but he stays silent instead, frowns as you make your way to the fridge.

You’re too close to him as you grab the water from the fridge- he can smell your perfume and he can smell Lucifer’s cologne, smell the faint scent of sex lingering on you.

Vile. It’s so vile.

You take the water and you close the door, but you don’t leave as he expects- you hesitate where you stand and you flutter nervous fingers around the bottle, bite your lip once more as Satan watches you.

“What?” he asks, exasperated by you and your meek little display and the way his eyes can’t help but to linger on your curves.

He hates his brother but, gods, does Lucifer know how to dress you.

“I,” you start- anxious, quieter than before, “I...I...can I have a snack? Please?”

You’re asking him if you can have a snack? You’re seeking permission from him for something so basic?

Satan blinks and he wets his lips as his cock stirs, as you squirm and fret before him.

“...you may.”

His approval brings a tiny smile on your face- something that could nearly be called excited. He hates it and he hates the way it makes his heart pound, hates the shy joy that crosses over your sweet features, hates how it makes his eyes grow hooded and a heady sense of satisfaction thread through him.

He hates the way it makes him want to break from his control, pull you to him and make you look at him, make you submit more to him.

Stupid, weak human- how dare you shake him the way you do. How dare you wreck his self-control when you won’t even be his.

“Thank you!”

Sweet, happy- your sincere words has his fingers digging into his arms, his frustration spiraling all the more.

Lucifer doesn’t deserve you.

You go to the cabinets and you have to stand on your tiptoes as you root around them. You’re just so small compared to him, to his brothers and it’s so very horrid how it has his cock hardening even more as his mind flashes with images of you beneath him, you sitting in his lap.

You’d fit against him so well.

A please noise sounds as you find your snack of choice, but it’s drowned out by a click of a tongue, a disappointed sigh.

“Darling, you know you’re not allowed a snack so late at night.”

Satan’s heart stops and you go perfectly still- back rigid and the snack falling from your trembling hands, a quiet whimper leaving you as Lucifer steps into the room.

“S-Sir...Sir I...”

You can’t even finish your apology, can’t form any excuses. If you were anyone else, Satan may pity you. Instead, his rage is fueled even more so and he’s left near snarling as his older brother bypasses him without so much as a glance spared his way to go to you.

“Who gave you permission to have a snack?” Lucifer asks, murmuring the question as he forces you to turn to face him. Like this, Satan can see your wide eyes and the tears in them, your wobbling lower lip and the shame all over your pretty face.

“It certainly wasn’t me,” Lucifer continues on, hand finding your cheek. “Did my kitten think she could break her rules?”

A tiny whimper, your eyes darting toward Satan, and your head hangs, your small shoulders shake.

And then all of a sudden, Lucifer’s eyes are on him- narrowed, his head cocking, displeasure showing in the way his lips press together.

The aggravation from him has Satan’s scowl shifting into something that’s almost a smirk and he only lifts his head higher as Lucifer looks him over, stares him back down as something vindictive surges through him.

Oh, he wants to rub his brother’s face in it. Oh, he wants to gloat over this small, insignificant victory and have his brother’s smooth facade breaking.

“...ah,” Lucifer says, attention turning back to you. “I see. You thought his permission would make it alright?”

Wide eyes widen even more and Satan huffs as you sniffle, as you bob your head in a tiny nod and admit to your mistake.

Disgusting. Weak. God, can you stand up to him even a little?

(No, no, of course not. Because then you wouldn’t be his and then Satan wouldn’t be aching to have you in his clutches.)

“I- I’m sorry...”

A tut from Lucifer and his hand tightens its hold on your face, brings a noise of distress from you and tears that wet your lashes.

“Darling,” Lucifer hums- softly, dangerously, “you’re so very foolish, aren’t you? Don’t you remember who you belong to?”

A gasp and you’re shuddering, Satan is gnashing his teeth as fingers dip below your collar and tug. Lucifer’s gaze moves to him and it’s so amused, so thoroughly entertained.

He could kill him, Satan thinks. He could kill him.

“Perhaps my kitten needs to be reminded of who owns her,” Lucifer muses. “Perhaps everyone needs to be reminded of it.”

Oh, he is not-

“Y-Yes, sir...”

You’re pulled in front of Lucifer before Satan can so much as blink and his shirt is ripped off of you, your nightgown is tugged above your hips. You’re bare underneath it- no underwear to be seen- and Satan’s fury gets waylaid by shock, by want and greed as your thighs are nudged apart and your hips are made to arch back against his older brother.

“Lucifer-”

“She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?” Lucifer interrupts- voice so casual as his hand dips low to run a finger through your slit. “Gorgeous, obedient, and so very eager to please. My good little girl.”

Lucifer’s good little girl.

The words have you gasping softly, the touch has your cheeks heating up. You are gorgeous and you are obedient and you are so very eager- your hips grind against Lucifer’s fingers as he dips them inside you and Satan hates seeing it, hates that his cock is harder than before, hates that his hands twitch with the need to reach out and touch you, feel your silken wetness for himself.

“Ah, sir...”

The soft mewl comes out sweetly, so darling and dear. It makes Satan’s eyes narrow and his teeth clench, but the smirk the graces his brother’s face has him growling in envy, his hands tightening into fists.

Bastard.

“She’s exquisite,” Lucifer murmurs. “Always so wet, so easy to rile up. It feels like heaven sliding into her. And she so does enjoy being filled- don’t you, darling?”

“I- oh- oh, yes! Please!”

Needy- your quiet cry is so needy.

You’re so needy and Satan is so hard. Hard, avaricious, furious at the situation unfolding before him.

How dare Lucifer pull this? How dare he dangle you like a treat never to be savored before him?

Magic crackles along Satan and he snarls, pushes himself from the counter and glares all his rage toward his older brother and the moaning beauty before him.

“Stop. It.”

Lucifer’s smirk grows and his fingers plunge deeper into you, you cry out louder than Satan has ever heard before as you thighs shake and your body tilts forward with a moan.

“What?” Lucifer asks, taunts. “Are you bothered by this? You don’t want to see her losing herself to pleasure?”

He does- god, he does. But he wants to see you losing yourself to pleasure brought on by him. He wants to break you apart and have all your mewling, whimpering pleas all to himself.

“Perhaps you want to indulge in her?” Lucifer muses, thumb moving to grind along your clit. “Perhaps you want to fuck her yourself?”

“Lucifer-”

“Kitten, do you want that? Do you want anyone but me?”

A whimper, a shake of your head- you sniffle and you shake at the question, have to be held up by Lucifer to keep from collapsing onto the kitchen floor.

And Satan- Satan’s heart cracks and his rage explodes along with the cups drying on the counter, the plates stacked in the sink.

How dare Lucifer? How dare you?

The noise of breaking dishes has you startling and the step that Satan takes toward you has you stuttering out panic, but he can’t see it- can’t acknowledge it- as his tail slams against the cabinets and makes their contents tumble onto the floor in rushing, loud heaps.

“L-Lucifer!”

“Shh, darling,” Lucifer soothes- unruffled by the threat Satan carries, uncaring at the volcanic fury threatening to be unleashed. “He knows his place. He knows your place.”

“My place? My place?!”

The words fly from Satan’s mouth before he can think to contain them and his snarl has the kitchen rumbling, has tears dripping down your cheeks and your hips squirming against Lucifer’s hand.

Lucifer only hums and he retracts his fingers from you, licks your juices from them with a sneer.

“Absolutely decadent.”

Satan moves so fast that the kitchen becomes a blur and his hands seek Lucifer’s neck, his claws reach to dig into that arrogant neck and slice it to bloody pieces.

He’s thrown across the room before he can so much as bring a drop and the impact has the fridge denting, food scattering along the floor, and a terrified cry ripping from you.

“Sir!”

Sir? Sir? Even after Lucifer throwing him across the room all you can think about is that bastard?

Disgusting. You stupid little wretch.

“Sir! Lucifer! Please- please don’t-”

A scoff sounds and ebony wings appear, wrap around your trembling form and pull you closer, hide your glittering tears from view.

“Look, now you’ve upset her,” Lucifer huffs. “My poor little darling.”

“Fuck you!”

A whimper, a tut, a snarl. You’re lifted up and you tuck your face into Lucifer’s neck, cling to him like the pathetic, weak, disgusting thing you are. Satan heaves himself out of the wreckage and you flinch as he growls, sniffle and whine as Lucifer’s arms tighten around you.

“Come, kitten, you shouldn’t have to see something so ugly.”

And just like that, you’re whisked away and Satan is left to sweep the counter free from its contents, snarl and rip chunks of marble out of it and hurl them against the wall.

They explode into dust and he heaves, rakes his claws through his hair and shakes with so much rage it has the whole house quaking.

The sounding of running footsteps are drowned by the pounding in his ears and Satan growls as he grips onto the sink, nearly falls to his knees as his fury pulses so thick and bitter it has him choking.

Vile. Disgusting. Sick.

It’s all so sick.

Satan drops into a crouch and he presses his hand to his mouth, tears at his flesh as he shakes and breaks under the weight of his horrid rage and greed and heartbreak.

Repulsive. Weak.

He’s so pathetic- just as pathetic as you are.

Satan squeezes his eyes shut and he grits his teeth as his brothers spill into his room, slams his fist against the floor as a sweet, teary cry sounds from high above.

“Satan?! Satan what happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Satan-”

He stands and he wipes the blood from his cheeks, storms past his brothers and to his room, hurls a vase at Lucifer’s door when he passes it and he hears you whimper out a loud “please!”

He doesn’t stop until he gets into his room and he slams the door behind him, collapses onto the floor and buries his fingers into his hair, snarls because his cock his still hard and he can’t get the image of your heated cheeks and stuffed, sweet crux out of his mind despite the rage and the violence and your fear.

It makes him sick.

He makes himself sick.

Satan curls into himself and his tail wraps around his body tight, his heart thuds faster and faster as his frustration spirals with the threat of him lashing out once more.

He’s so sick. This whole house is sick.

The thought that he will never have you makes him sick.

It doesn’t stop him from stroking his cock to the sound of you being ravished, though, and it doesn’t stop him from gasping and growling and coming to the thought of snatching you away from his big brother, fucking you senseless in front of that bastard and putting you in a collar of his own.

Someday.

Someday.

Someday he’ll make his brother feel as sick as he does.

And Lucifer, you, everyone will rue the day.

#satan x reader #lucifer x reader #rooni's shit #ahahahahahahahhahahaha sorry for this i guess #but not really #had to feed the brain worms