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moon-lv3r · 10 months

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soulmates ~ bruabba pt 1

🦋 category: angst, hurt no comfort, one-shot, soulmate au

🦋 characters: bucciarati, abbacchio

🦋 summary: au – in which people are born with red strings from their pinky that attach itself to their soulmate. the string would not appear until soulmate is born. the string appears physical but one can pass their hand through it. only you can see your own string and where it leads

young bruno sets out on a quest to find his soulmate when his father died, only to learn that his soulmate, leone abbacchio was dead

part 1 - bruno’s pov

part 2 - leone’s pov

🦋 warnings: mentions of drug abuse and overd0sing

🦋 notes: angst moment let’s go !!! this was written all at 2am and i have school the next morning but hey who cares /j… not exactly my best work but oh well i haven’t written much in the last few months bc school has really been eating up my time and i also ended a relationship with someone who was a long time friend of mine. we got together and broke up bc i felt like she wasn’t putting much effort as i was and i wanted to fix it while she didn’t want to disappoint me so we broke up and the friendship just can’t be the same anymore so we ended that as well. life has been shit so here’s a shit story !

this is part 1 of bruabba soulmate au !

Soulmate. What a wonderful thing. Ever since Bruno was a young child, he had a small red string on his pinky. He never knew how he got it, but he knew what it meant. His soulmate was of a similar age. It often led the young boy to wonder about what his soulmate could be doing. He wondered if his soulmate was thinking about him. He wondered if his soulmate was just as excited about the entire thing as he was.

Nobody could see his string but Bruno himself. It was like a ghost, an invisible string except it wasn’t exactly invisible. He liked it, the idea that this ghost thread tied him to someone that he would spend the rest of his life with.

He looked at his parents and often admired the love they shared in their eyes. He wondered if his soulmate would shower him with the same endearing sight. He wondered what kind of love he would experience. His mind was filled with wonders of a life spent with someone who was still faceless to the little one. Yet, it never dwindled his excitement.

Love was so enchanting.

He loved seeing his parents smile everyday. His mother always had the same spark in her smiles whenever his father gave her one of his surprises. His father always wore the same shine in his eyes whenever his father smiled.

Bruno wanted the love that they had.

Until he witnessed the death of his mother and the damage on his father. His father’s one and only had ceased to exist. Now what? He had no soulmate, what does one do when their only love disappears?

The mess that became of his father was heart wrenching for little Bruno to witness. Why did the world give his father a soulmate only to take her away when they were at their happiest? Was it fair? His family did not deserve for their happiness to be ripped away from them like this. It was a freak accident, a drunk driver had swerved from a tree only to hit Bruno’s mother who was exiting a store after buying groceries.

He watched as his father lost the shine in his eyes and later, the spark in his life. His father was now just a shell of his former self. The smile he once had was buried alongside Bruno’s mother. He hadn’t just lost his mother, his father’s soul was gone too.

How was soulmate such a beautiful yet morbid thing?

Bruno grew up, watching his father suffer from the loneliness that had struck him. Therapy helped but it was never enough. Over the years, he slowly recovered but the heartbreak will never truly leave him. Shards of it remained in the form of tears in the middle of the night when he thought that Bruno was asleep. Though there were things that his father had hid from Bruno, things that Bruno would never find out for years.

It had hurt the young child that he could do nothing but watch as his father suffered. It made Bruno hate the idea of soulmates. How could the world give you the one but snatch that same person away?

It made him never want to find the one made for him. How could he? He didn’t want to find someone that made him feel like he was in heaven only to have them gone the next second. Why was life such a cruel game? Can’t it just let them enjoy soulmates in peace? Why must they go so abruptly?

He grew up, detesting the red string on his finger. He never looked at his finger unless he had to. Kids at school loved the idea of a soulmate, all but him. Some were upset that they did not have a soulmate but in Bruno’s eyes, they were blessed with a life free from suffering. Bruno would be lying if he said he never once thought of how his soulmate would feel if they knew what Bruno thought of their fate. Just how important romance was to people? Bruno felt as though he would be perfectly fine with spending the rest of his life alone. Who needed a soulmate when he had himself?

As the years went, Bruno’s ideals stayed firm. He watched as people mourned the death of the love they yearned for as their soulmate turned out to be different from their expectations. Some were the complete opposite. Now they have to learn to get along because they were supposed to spend the rest of their lives together. Bruno grew up, watching as the people did their best to change for their soulmates, to grow the love they have, and to enjoy each other’s presence.

He grew up, watching as people did whatever that was possible so long as they could be loved. He watched as slowly but surely, soulmates who hated each other slowly began to fall in love. Perhaps the line between hatred and love got blurred and they stepped over it, falling for each other’s imperfections. Was that what love was supposed to be? Accepting each other no matter what came in between them?

The young Bruno who detested the idea of soulmates slowly grew into a young, fine man. His ideals still remained in a part of his brain which he had slowly forgotten. He had watched as other people lived their happy life with their other half. Maybe love wasn’t so bad? But he had also witnessed his father’s miserable years after the death of his mother. It had him torn in between his opinions.

His father had grown sickly over the years. Love sick perhaps, but he was getting weaker and weaker as the seconds ticked by. Bruno could only watch as the man who did his best to give him a stable childhood rot away in a hospital bed. It had caused an ache in his heart. Bruno did all he could to pay for the medical bills, which was causing such a weight on the young man’s shoulders that his father just couldn’t bear to witness. The love of his life might be gone, but he still had love to give to his son.

“Bruno,” he began. It was a warm sunday afternoon when Bruno once again visited his dear father. “It’s fine. I can’t see you like this.”

The effect it had on Bruno was evident on his face. His eye bags were heavy, he was skinnier than before. But he didn’t look as bad as his father, who was gaunt and could barely find the energy to speak sometimes.

“It’s alright,” Bruno reassured his father. “You raised me. This is the least I could do.”

His father gently shook his head, “You have many more years than I do. I don’t want you to waste your time on a pathetic old man like me. I’ll have to see your mum soon, and how do you think she would react to you overworking yourself?” He laughed, though the atmosphere was anything but humorous.

Bruno's fists clenched as his father spoke. The man he cared about speaking of himself in that way hurt Bruno. He knew his father wanted the best for him but Bruno wanted the best for his father as well.

“Please, don’t speak of yourself that way,” Bruno replied. “You’ll live. You’ll see me live the life you want me to.”

The old man smiled a weak smile as he looked at his son square in the face, “You both know that I won’t. Promise me that you’ll go look for your soulmate and experience the love you’ve always dreamed of, alright?” The fragile man choked on his words, his voice cracking half way through as tears collected in his eyes. His son stared, unable to speak. His son’s face remained stoic but his fists spoke of another story.

Bruno could only nod. It was his father’s final request, how could he deny it?

As the next morning arose to reveal a beautiful sunset, a view ever so breathtaking that one would kill for, Bruno’s father had passed away. It wasn’t out of the blue. The man had been ill for a while and Bruno had always known deep down that medication wasn’t doing all that much to delay it.

It didn’t make it any easier for the young man, who was only 20. Death had never been easy for the young man. Not when he was a child, and not when he was an adult.

The funeral was small, quiet. Very few people came and went. His father was a fisherman. His family lived a quiet life. Only people of the village came to offer their condolences. No amount of condolences could bring back his father however, but he appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

The days passed by, the words of his father’s final request lingered in his mind. Should he really look for his soulmate? What kind of love does he want? What kind of love had Bruno been yearning for? All he knew was his detest for the romantic side of life. But he wanted to honour his father.

He stared at the red string on his pinky, the one he had ignored for years. He watched as the string led out of the door, towards someone he had never known. He wondered why hadn’t his soulmate looked for him, were they busy? Or did they share the same idea about love that he did? Would it really be worth a shot to try?

He looked out the window, and towards where the string led to. His curiosity kept lingering in his mind. Maybe he really should just look for his soulmate. Perhaps they could get through this together, help Bruno figure out his views on love. After all, what harm could it really cause? He wasn’t the biggest fan of love, but having someone who could understand you couldn’t hurt all that bad right? He didn’t have to be in a relationship with his soulmate right away, they could just get to know each other and decide if their pacing was alright with each other.

Bruno took a few days to really begin his search. A part of him kept changing his mind, but eventually, he got around to it. It had been two months since the death of his father. It was time to really fulfill the final request of his loved ones. His father did not want to see him die a lonely, miserable man like he was. Bruno did not want to disappoint his father either, so here he was, setting out and looking for a soulmate, in hopes that he would get a companion and maybe for the first time in many years, feel the love others with soulmates often received.

He walked, followed the trail of the red string. It led him to the city of Naples. So his soulmate had always been a city person. He wondered how would the son of a fisherman and someone who lived in the city get along with each other. It seemed like an interesting match up. They were two different people from two different worlds.

He continued walking until he arrived at the poorer side of the city. Perhaps his soulmate wasn’t as luxurious as he had thought when he first entered the city. As he arrived in the neighbourhood, a young blonde teenage boy stepped out of his home and came face to face with Bruno. The boy took one look at Bruno and knew he didn’t belong in the area.

“Looking for places to sell more of your drugs?” The young boy began, “This place is already ruined enough.”

Bruno shook his head, “I’m just looking for someone,” he responded. He appeared slightly annoyed at the boy who had just lashed out at him for no reason. He just assumed that Bruno was a drug dealer for no apparent reason.

The young boy frowned. “ Soulmate I’m guessing? Where does your string lead to? My apologies for lashing out.”

“It’s alright,” Bruno replied. “Uh… my strings lead towards…” Bruno paused as he glanced over at his pinky, leading towards the left and into an apartment just two houses away. Bruno pointed the house to the young teenage boy who then turned to Bruno in shock.

“Your soulmate is Leone Abbacchio?” He said, “I haven’t seen him in days!”

The two made their way towards the house, where a putrid smell escaped from the cracks of the door. “The Abbacchios are pretty messy,” said the boy. “It’s normal for their house to smell but this smell is extra horrid.”

Bruno covered his nose, but even that didn’t stop the smell from entering his nose. He wondered what kind of life his soulmate had lived to end up like this. He wondered if the two of them could even live the life he had envisioned. It suddenly all looked like a far fetched dream. The smell kept hitting his nostrils every second. He felt as though he could throw up any moment. He knocked on the door gently.

No response.

The boy frowned as he mentioned that Leone usually answered the door. His parents had died a month ago and left him alone. The young boy had younger siblings in the foster care system while he lived with his drug addict parents. His younger siblings weren’t even teenagers, while Leone himself was an adult. They were only sent to foster care two months prior when someone had lodged a complaint against the family.

Bruno knocked once again but no response. Perhaps Leone was sleeping? The boy decided to try the doorknob, which was open. Bruno didn’t want to creep in as he was a mere stranger to the man who was supposed to be his soulmate. The boy stepped in first, into the dark house. He fumbled around the walls for the light switch, and the moment it was turned on, a horror scene welcomed their unexpecting souls.

There Leone Abbacchio lay on the ground, foaming at the mouth with maggots crawling about his dead body. He had been dead for days. Bruno watched as the red string from his pinky trailed towards the dead man and ended right at the dead man’s own pinky.

Why was life so cruel to him?

#jojo's bizarre adventure #vento aureo #golden wind #bruno x abbacchio #bruno bucciarati #leone abbacchio #soulmate au #soulmates #what was i thinking #god what is this #bruabba #enjoy this mess #i love them #i’m suffering so everything i write has to contain suffering

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occult-roommates · 1 year

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What do you do with a newborn alien?

Well, the roommates were in a bit of a pickle...Ok, not all of them, but Kino definitely was, and it seems like they weren’t even aware of it...So, one Sunday afternoon, while everyone was watching a movie airing on TV, Charlie walked in the living room, and closed the TV. It was important.

Charlie: Kino, we need to talk. Daniele: Hey, we were watching a movie. Charlie: I mean, it was an Adam Sandler movie. You’re not missing much. Rudi: Fuck you, 50 first dates is unironically good. Kino: What do you want? Charlie: Well, I’m just saying, but your kid is gonna be born in less than a month and well...We’re already making plan on how to accomodate having a baby here, but like...How do you plan on giving birth? Kino: By pushing it out of me, why??? Daniele: I mean, there’s other option, I’m a C-section baby personally. Rudi: Yeah, I teleported out of my mother’s womb. Kino: You can do that on Earth???!!!

Ok, Charlie had to stay strong. Sure, trying to have a serious conversation with Daniele and Rudi in the room is not the hardest feat a person can accomplish, but it’s up there.

Charlie: I mean, you’re an alien, you cannot just show up to the hospital in your alien form as if nothing was. Your blood is also blue, though you can lie about having fairy origin, fairies can have differently colored blood. I uh...I am still grossed out by that time I tried drinking the blood of a fairy guy and it came out dark yellow and I started gagging like mad. Anyway, you can also not give birth as a human, like literally, your human form has a dick! Rudi: Skill issues. Charlie: Will you please shut up? Kino: Ok but can you actually teleport a baby out of the womb? Charlie: No, you can’t. Rudi: Skill iss- Charlie: SHUT THE FUCK UP! Akva: Could you ask the government agent who discovered you and brought you here for help? I mean, he knows you’re an alien, surely he could also pay some doctor to help you have your baby and then pay them to keep the secret. Or I don’t know, maybe the government secretly has amnesia drugs. Kino: I can’t. I did talk about the possibility of me having a child with an Earthling, and was told that if it does happen, my child would be taken away from me so they could experiment on them. Akva: ...Oh...

At least, Akva was trying to be useful. Cause so far, the only option seemed to be having Kino give birth in the bathtub while one of the roommate or their girlfriend assisted them. Which is an idea Charlie wasn’t super enthusiastic about for obvious reasons. Literally none of them were college graduate, let alone have any sort of medical training. At best Akva was in her second semester as a physical therapy student, but not only are her grades...questionnable, but that’s still a far cry from being a certified extraterrestrial OB/GYN.

Charlie: Also I don’t want birthing fluid all over my bathroom, that’s gross. Daniele: Hey, don’t worry about that, I’ll just lick it all clean. Charlie: Oh...my god... Kino: I messed up big time, Ah...I a-am...I am so *sniff* sorry. Akva: Aw, don’t cry. But like, I’ll admit, you should have been more careful with not getting pregnant. Especially since you knew your child could be taken away from you. Rudi: Pot calling the kettle black. Charlie: Ok that’s it, I’m leaving. Bye. Rudi: Could you check out on Dav? He went to the bathroom like 15 minutes ago, starting to be afraid he pushed a poop to death or something.

Prev (mild nsfw) - Next

#ts4 #sims 4 #the sims 4 #simblr #ts4 simblr #occult roommates #kino gurafee #charlie yi #rudi marron #daniele rossini #akva singh #long post #cw pregnancy #OcRo s2

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duskwoodgirl4life · 1 year

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Chapter 10

Jake's surgery was successful. It would take some time for him to wake up, MC sat by his side the whole time she never left his side for one second. The doctors asked MC how cocaine got into his system. She had to lie and say she didn't know and that Jake never touched drugs.

The doctors gave Jake something to help with the cocaine.

MC's POV

Jake what the hell have you gotten yourself into? Why are you taking cocaine again? I thought all of that was behind you. Did it get forced onto you? Did that slimeball make you take it?

Please wake up for me Jake. I'm not mad at you, I know you won't have taken it willingly. I want you to know that I love you more than anything.

You can't leave me you promised me you would come back to me, I won't let you leave me you're not allowed to. Come back to me Jake I know you can do it my love come back to me.

MC took hold of Jake's hand holding it up to her lips placing a soft kiss on his hand, MC felt Jake squeeze her hand she looked up as he was opening his eyes.

MC: omg Jake, your awake

Jake: What happened? Where am I?

MC: it's okay, your in the hospital you had an accident

Jake: what? What accident? I don't understand

MC: you crashed the car into the apartment building you had to have surgery on your head

Jake: What but I..I..

MC: it's okay Jake let me explain what happened

MC took Jake's hand explaining what had happened and how he had come to crash the car.

MC: oh and before I forget I lied to the doctor's about the cocaine in your system

Jake: MC I'm so sorry I really am I never wanted any of this to happen

Tears fell from Jake's eyes MC looked on and it broke her heart to see him so upset, she claimed onto the bed carefully and put her arms around him.

MC: Jake I don't care about any of that now I just want you to be okay, I don't know what I would do if I lost you

Jake: your my world MC you are the only person in my life that makes sense I'm in love with you MC

MC: I'm in love with you Jake

They both lay together just holding each other and talking, Jake spent a few weeks in the hospital MC never left his side not once. Well apart from when the nurse forced her to go get a coffee and some food.

Jake: MC I feel I owe you the full story about the drugs

MC: but I thought you already told me

Jake: yes that is true, but I didn't tell you everything please let me explain

MC: okay go ahead

Jake: It all started when I met Ray for the first time, at first it was just a line every now and then. But as time went on I got more and more hooked. I started taking it every day I would do hacks for him and in return I would get a bag of coke. When I met you I started to get clean. I didn't want you to see me like that when you came into hiding with me I would wait for you to sleep. Then I would go out and meet Ray. He would give me a bag of coke and a file of what he needed hacking. The night I left you, one of the reasons was so I could get clean. I was offered help which I took. I got clean once I had finished the program. That's when I reached out to you.

MC: Part of me is angry that you didn't tell me you could have told me, i could have helped you Jake we are supposed to be in this together.

Jake: I am sorry MC I never meant to lie to you I did want to tell you

MC: let's just focus on getting you better and out of here then we can work on the rest

Jake spent a few months in hospital how leg had started to heal nicely, he had to go through physical therapy to make his leg stronger.

Jake was finally allowed to go home once MC got him home she made sure he took it easy for a while. Jake made a full recovery and was soon back on his feet he was able to go back to work. He was so glad to be doing something keeping his mind active, he noticed just how hard MC had been working the past couple of months.

He decided he would take her away for the weekend. Just the two of them, he started to search for weekend getaways and found the perfect place. He wanted to make it special with everything she's had to deal with. She deserves something special.

Jake booked a weekend away in the country. He sounded the perfect log cabin; it had everything they needed for the weekend. As Jake was searching what else the cabin had he noticed it was up for sale. He dug a little more into the sale and contacted the owner and bought the cabin.

Jake's POV

I have just bought a cabin in the country for us to stay in whenever we want, MC deserves to have this time away we need to reconnect as a couple. I don't know how she does it. She works so hard she is truly amazing and I love her more everyday.

I see MC typing away on her computer. She's just finished sending off a report to our boss. I walk over to her and wrap my arms around her taking in her scent and warmth.

MC: hey you, everything okay?

Jake: yeah things are good, have you finished for the weekend?

MC: yeah just sent the last report over to the boss

Jake: perfect, I have a surprise for you

MC: What have you been up to?

Jake: well with everything that you have been doing for me and stuff with work I thought we could have a weekend away

MC: that sounds perfect Jake where did you have in mind

Jake: well I've already booked us somewhere in the country

MC: I better go pack

Jake: that's no all, I do have another surprise but that comes later

MC wrapped her arms around Jake and kissed him softly, they both went to pack for their weekend away. After a few hours of driving they arrived at the cabin. It was beautiful. MC got out of the car and went to have a look at the cabin. Jake could see the smile on her face.

MC: Jake this is absolutely amazing I love it thank you

Jake: you are worth every single penny spent on this cabin

MC: it's a shame it's only for the weekend

Jake: what if it's not just for the weekend

MC: What do you mean? We have the place for longer

Jake: how about forever

MC: forever? You mean you…

Jake: when I was searching the information about the place I noticed the cabin for sale so I bought It for you

MC: you are so beautiful and amazing thank you Jake

Jake: after everything that's happened I wanted to do something special for you

MC put her arms around Jake and kissed him deeply, she looked up at him and saw how dark his eyes had gone. They grabbed the bags and went inside. Jake pushed MC up against the wall and continued the kiss. They went into the bedroom clothes coming off on the way.

A few hours later when they had finished they both lay next to each other, MC had her hand on Jake's smooth chest she looked up at him with lustful eyes.

Jake: Does someone want to go again?

MC: well it has been a long time, I need you Jake I need to feel you inside me

Jake spun MC onto her back kissing her neck, her hands running all over his body, another few hours later they both lay breathless on the bed.

MC: I love you Jake

Jake: I love you MC

MC: I guess we should get up and make dinner

Jake: no need, there is a local restaurant that delivers

MC: I like that idea even better

MC lay back down cuddling back up to Jake while he placed the order.

MCs POV

I can't believe Jake did this for me with everything that we have been through. He goes and surprises me. I really do trust him. I never thought I would be able to trust him this fast.

I find myself thinking about our future. I can see us getting married and having kids, everything we have ever wanted. Now that we are in this amazing cabin do I really want to go back to duskwood?

We could just stay here but I guess the real world would catch up with us, the more I think about it we could really make a life for ourselves here.

I look up at Jake. He's so adorable I love him so much, I can see he's looking at the different deserts. If we are going to do this I have to talk to Jake about it.

MC: Jake, can we talk

Jake: Sure, everything okay?

MC: yeah everything is fine, it's just being here in this cabin I don't want us to leave

Jake: You want us to move here?

MC: I really would like that Jake it can be a fresh start for us. What do you think?

Jake: I think that's a wonderful idea let's do it

MC: You really mean that?

Jake: I do MC, I want us to have a future together and this is the perfect place to do that.

#duskwood #everbyte game #duskwood jake #duskwood hacker #iamjake #i love you jake #duskwood jake x mc #jake x mc #he loves me #i love you #i love him #where did you go #where are you

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riahlynn101 · 2 years

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"When I'm Gone" (30).

Chapter Thirty (Last chapter)

Author's note: Thank you guys for reading <3

Also, for those that don't want to scroll back four-plus months to find the rest of the story: When I'm Gone - Chapter 1 - Riahlynn101 - Five Nights at Freddy's [Archive of Our Own]

After five surgeries, a combined sixty stitches, and some physical therapy, Elizabeth was released from the hospital. Vanessa, Samuel, and Gregory were the ones waiting to take her home. Or, she should say, take her to their home. She wouldn’t put it past her landlord to demand rent even though she’s been in no position to pay up. Not to mention none of them know where she lives, or at least she hopes they don’t.

The drugs they gave her are still wearing off and are making her a bit paranoid.

The car ride home is tense, filled with Gregory’s excited rambles about the new house they had built with some of the money from the settlement. Not that she can focus on anything beyond her daughter’s obvious discomfort. Vanessa is pointedly refusing to make eye contact, and is instead staring out the window, and making small talk with Gregory (when she can get a word in edgewise).

The car pulls into the driveway, a shiny number fifty-seven plastered on the mailbox. Gregory squeals, bouncing in his seat.

“C’mon! C’mon!”

Samuel gives her a knowing look. “Hey, kiddo…?’

Gregory pauses, still buckled in. “Yeah?”

“How about we give your mom a second, okay? I think she and Vanessa need to talk.”

Gregory hums, considering that. “Oh, okay. But,” he turns to his sister, “don’t take too long.”

Vanessa makes a sound more fitting for a frightened mouse than a grown woman. She looks at her brother for help. But it’s no use, because Gregory is already half-way out the car. He falls, somehow managing to land on his bottom. Shaking it off, he scrambles to his feet and up to the porch. Samuel sends one last apologetic look at them both before shutting the car door.

They sit in silence for all of three seconds, before the image of her brother falling on his bottom gets to Vanessa. She laughs, trying to muffle the sound with her hand.

Elizabeth makes an amused sound. “He is quite clumsy, isn’t he?”

Vanessa stops laughing, clearing her throat. “Not usually, no.” Which is a huge lie. God gave Gregory two left feet and no directions. “Must be an off-day.”

Elizabeth turns in her seat to see Vanessa. “I think we both know that’s a lie.”

Vanessa blanches. What is she, a witch?

“Besides, if he's anything like your uncles, then that kid was doomed from the start.” She imitates the sound of an explosion. “Walking disasters they were.”

“I hate you,” Vanessa says, hating how she was forced into this. “And I don’t like that you’re here. I know you, and I know you’ll leave again.” She leans forward in her seat, finally making eye contact with Elizabeth. “I don’t know what your end game is, or what you’re planning but rest assured I will hunt you for sport if you break Gregory’s heart. Poor kid’s been through enough,” she mutters the last part to herself, crossing her arms and averting her eyes.

“Fair enough,” Elizabeth says. “And I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon. For what it’s worth, Vanessa, I really am sorry.”

She scoffs, opening the car door. “Words mean nothing to me. Prove it.”

-x-x-x-

Elizabeth gives her daughter a five minute head start, just in case Vanessa wants to avoid her. Perhaps forcing Nessa to interact with her was a bad idea right from the get go. But eventually she pulls herself out of the car, holding her stomach. The stitches still hurt if she moves too much, so she has to move extra slow.

Thankfully the driveway is a short walk to the porch. She leans against the railing, as she heads up the stairs. Gregory must hear her, because the second her foot lands on the top step, he’s rushing out the front door.

“Here, let me help you,” he says, linking his arm with hers. “Now,” he pulls away, helping her lean up against the wall closest to the door, “don’t be alarmed. But we might have gone a bit overboard.” He assists her in the final step-up into the house.

“What do you-”

“Surprise!”

Elizabeth jumps, startled, but quickly gets over her shock upon seeing her guests (are they the guests? Or is she the guest? The world may never know). Across from her stands: GlamRock Freddy, GlamRock Chica, Monty, and Roxy, that weird sun-shaped animatronic that saved Gregory's life, a wide-array of S.T.A.F.F. bots (including a map bot, which Gregory is glaring angrily at), a small, adorable Freddy-esque animatronic similar in style to Funtime Freddy, and a bunch of caution signs-that are currently doing circles around her. Her family, Gregory, Vanessa, Evan, and Michael (and she supposes Sammy as well, to a degree), are there, hidden partially behind the hulking robots. Cassidy is there as well, looking happier than Elizabeth ever remembered her looking while they were kids.

Flustered and a bit taken back, all she can manage to say is a soft-spoken, “thank you.”

#fnaf au #fnaf gregory #fnaf security breach #fnaf elizabeth #cross posted on ao3 #fnaf sammy #fnaf cassidy #fnaf vanessa #fnaf fanfic #last chapter #long fic

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turtletaubwrites · 2 months

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Bend Until You Break ~ Part 5

Thank you so much for this request from the lovely @anemptypuddingcup !!🖤 ✨This is the second to last part, the conclusion will be posted tomorrow!✨

Pairings: YANDERE!Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader

Bend Until You Break ~ Masterlist

Word Count: 2974

Ao3 Link

Summary: Your doctor takes care of your needs, and you find out just how much he’s done for you.

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, DARK CONTENT, DUBCON, Dubious Consent, Swearing, Eventual Smut, Yandere, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Hypermobility, Medical Examination, Medical Trauma, Medical Conditions, Chronic Pain, Injury, Physical Disability, Physical Therapy, Doctor/Patient, Abuse of Authority, Kidnapping, Possessive Behavior, Other Additional Tags to be Added, (Reader is described as having hair "above her shoulders" that she can brush), Needles, Drugs, Arguing, Massage, Praise Kink, Pain, Dissociation, Humiliation, Gaslighting, Non-Consensual Drug Use, (Implied), Birth Control, Menstruation, Discussion of Pregnancy, Brief/Implied Discussion of Sterilization Surgery, Teasing, Dom Trafalgar D. Water Law, Hand & Finger Kink, Blood, Dacryphilia, Vaginal Fingering, Penis in Vagina Sex, Unprotected Sex, (Be Safe Out There), Multiple Orgasms, Rough Sex, Creampie, Pet Names

A/N: I am unwell in more ways than one. Some of these medical issues may or may not have come from personal experience 🙃

Extra A/N: I am not a doctor, and this is not meant to be educational, or to contain any health advice. Please seek a health professional.

Aching need twisted within you, so intense it hurt. You had nearly screamed when those words left his lips.

‘Good girl.’

“Look at you,” he purred, not even touching you as you writhed for him. “Did you like that, Y/N? You wanna be my good girl?”

“Fuuckk, please…”

“You’re begging so well, but I need to hear you say it now. Tell me what you want.”

Law’s voice got sharp, and you managed to plead through quivering lips.

“Touch me. Make me come, please Law...”

“Is this where you want me? Oh, wow,” he breathed as he trailed his hand from your thigh to your clothed cunt, his tattooed fingers already slipping across the soaked fabric.

“You really have been neglecting your body, haven’t you,” he rasped, that hint of danger in his words again. “After all the work we’ve done to keep your body relaxed. It seems like you need some support, huh? Need your doctor to guide you, teach you how to take care of yourself?”

He rubbed those fingers over your clit, the drenched fabric only adding to the friction. He let out a dark chuckle as he pressed harder, faster.

“Gonna come so soon? Since you’ve neglected yourself for so long, I think we’d better make up for it,” he scolded, his head tilting as he assessed you. “I wonder how many times you can come in one night?”

This was the first.

You screamed his name as he tore you apart, the pleasure only making you ache for more.

“You did so well,” he praised as he pulled the clothes off of your limp body. “Mm, and you’re so relaxed for me. Remember, Y/N. We can only make progress if you’re relaxed. You want to make progress, right? You want to be as healthy as you can be?”

Your whimpered ‘yes’ was rewarded with the letters ‘E,’ and ‘A’ in your mouth once again, letting you taste your own pleasure on his fingers.

“I know you love it when I touch you,” he said, his voice gone heavy with what sounded like need.

You needed it to be need. You needed him to want you too. But for now you’d just let him take care of you.

“I know you love it when I work my fingers over every muscle. I hear you try to keep in your cute little moans. I wonder how many hours you’ve spent imagining my fingers fucking you deep, giving you what you need.”

Fuck. His voice again. How can his voice fuck me up so much?

Law touched you again, wetting his fingers along your folds, playing with your clit without the fabric now, your back arching off the mat.

“Beg me to fuck you with my fingers.”

“Pleasepleasefuck please fuck me with your fingers, Law, plea–”

Gods, those long fingers.

You had never heard the sound you made before as he shoved your favorite things in the world into your needy pussy. Your body thrashed as he laughed softly, thrusting in and out, then curling up. He found that spot instantly, as if he’d explored your body before, seared it into his memory so that he could fulfill your every need.

“Law, feels so…”

“Good girl, tell me how I make you feel. Is this what your body needed?”

Practically sobbing as he brought his other hand to your clit, you tried to follow his instructions.

“Law, you make me feel so good, so… I need you, need your hands so bad.”

“Come for me now.”

You couldn't tell if he had felt you coming before you did, or if his command had made it so.

Either way, you broke into pieces, his praise almost lost in the crash of pleasure through your body. He didn’t let up as you twitched and whimpered.

“Is this all you needed, Y/N,” he asked, his voice soft even as his fingers went rough. “Remember, it’s important to listen to your body, give it what it wants. All you have to do is tell me.”

Desperate tears fell from your eyes, but Law’s hands were too busy to dry them this time.

Can I ask? Will it ruin everything? Should I stop here?

You couldn’t. You had to listen to your body, give it what it wants.

“I want you to fuck me, Law. Please let me fee–”

He ate your moan as he claimed your mouth. The frantic kiss overwhelmed you as he held your face, your neck, his wet fingers so gentle where his mouth was not.

You swore you tasted a whimper on his lips before he ripped himself away, stripping, tossing his clothes aside.

You leaned up on your elbows, your lips falling open as you laid eyes on his toned body, his trailing tattoos across so much of his skin, and his thick, leaking cock, just waiting to sink into you.

“Lie back down,” he ordered, and you dropped your head back to the mat. He crawled over you, caging you in like he had earlier, and your body twisted with need again.

“Do I have your consent to touch you,” he smirked, that pretty, black hair falling around his face again.

“Yes, please.”

Law rubbed his cock through your folds, teasing over and over your clit until you were crying and begging for him again.

“So wet for me,” he rasped, before lifting a hand to wipe your tears, as he’d done countless times before.

“You’re so beautiful when you cry.”

He thrust into you then, hilting himself without giving you a chance to adjust, then holding there inside you. He filled you completely, and more tears fell while you moaned in pleasure and pain.

“Don’t worry, baby. You trust me, right? I’ll give you what you need.”

He did. Law started a rhythm inside you, easing that initial force while he kissed your tears away.

“Your body is perfect for me, Y/N,” he said, breathing heavy as he built up that rhythm, fucking you harder, deeper. “You’re so soft, so sweet. Your pretty cunt is sucking me in like it was made for me. I’m so proud of you.”

Coming on his cock was the most pleasure you could ever remember, pulsing and gushing around him, digging your nails into that tattooed back.

“Fuck, you’re so good for me, Y/N. Tight little pussy squeezes my cock so well, baby. Don’t you dare fucking stop.”

Words were no longer possible, just his name, just screaming his name as he brought a hand down. That thumb carved with ‘D’ attacked your clit as he fucked you faster, sliding over that sweet spot inside you with every brutal thrust.

“That’s right, pretty. Your body listens to me. I know what you need. You need to keep coming, right now. Be a good girl, milk the come out of my cock for me. There you go, good little cunt for me– fuuckk, yes…”

Your eyes were at the back of your head, animalistic sounds leaving you both until he shoved his tongue down your throat again.

It felt like he was invading you, tearing your body apart so that he could live inside, staking a claim on the twitching land beneath him.

And you wanted it. You wanted this man to have you, to take you. As long as he never stopped touching you, you wanted to let him take it all.

Law groaned your name against your lips as he spilled himself in you, filling you with the hot need of him, making you cry out again as your body drank him in.

The twitching continued, but he kept himself inside, leaving more soft kisses along your face, drinking the last of your salty tears. Your body was weak, limp, useless under his strong form.

He pulled back just enough to trap you in his stone eyes again. Those eyes that looked hurt, almost scared.

“You need me. Don’t you, baby? You need me to take care of you?”

Nothing came from your lips until you cleared your throat, your voice hoarse from screaming his name.

“I need you. I’ll always need you.”

A soft kiss. A dangerous voice.

“You know you’re mine now, right? I’ll give you everything you need.”

“Yours,” you asked, a sick hope pulsing in your heart.

“Mine,” he growled, making you cry out again as he started to fuck his come into you. “You want it, huh? You want to be mine, so I can take care of my good girl? You want to stay with me?”

Your eyes were rolling back from the wet, sloppy feeling of his come-soaked cock shoving into you.

“I’m already yours, Law. I’m your– Ow.”

It wasn’t that bad, but the towels had slid away from supporting your hips. Your thighs fell to the sides stretching further than they should.

Law pulled out of you, leaving you empty and gasping as he held your thighs in a better position.

“Are you alright,” he checked in, his doctor voice almost jarring as it returned.

“I’m okay.”

“Good,” he teased, looking between your legs with a satisfied smile. “Because you’re leaving a pretty mess all over the mat.”

I’m in a dream.

That large bed. Those tattooed arms wrapped around you. The steady, soothing beat of his heart.

He had handled you with all that tender care you’d come to trust in. But now when those hands touched, and cleaned, and massaged you, his lips would meet your skin, and his voice would gift you with even more praise than before.

‘My perfect girl.’

‘You deserve everything, Y/N. I’ll take care of you.’

‘So beautiful. So soft…’

By the time he’d laid you on his bed, you were overcome by the weight of it all, everything he’d done and promised. Gratitude flooded you until all you would do was weep softly while you clung to him.

“Th-Thank you…”

Law held your face, gently kissing your tears away once more before letting you taste the salt of them on your own lips.

“I’ll always save you, Y/N. You’ll never suffer alone again.”

He pulled you to him, your body weak and almost buzzing as he held you.

You matched your breathing to his, the comforting beat of his heart pulling you down into sleep.

Smells good. Smells like Law…

A contented hum left you as you stretched across his bed.

You stretched further.

“Law,” you mumbled, clearing your throat to speak louder as you sat up in the empty bed.

He wasn’t in the room with you.

A sick feeling hit your gut, and you fought off the panic.

He probably just got called out for something. It doesn’t mean anything. He still…

All your explanations and calming thoughts didn’t cut the fact that it hurt. After all that happened, he wasn’t here.

He’s a captain. He can’t be here with me all the time. He’s a doctor too, someone might have needed him.

You didn’t want to put your clothes on. It felt too much like starting the day without him, so you yanked off the sheet, twisting it around yourself as you looked around.

Maybe he’s in his office.

An almost giddy feeling filled you as you crept toward that door. You hadn’t seen his office yet, and imagining him sitting at a desk with that oh so serious look on his face made you grin.

The metal door was heavy, but your wrist was doing well lately, so you opened it, just a crack.

“Law,” you called quietly, not wanting to interrupt anything important.

Nothing.

“Is that…”

A magnetic force pulled you inside, the sheet dragging along the floor as you held it to you. Finding yourself behind a heavy wooden desk, you took in the sight of every piece of paper, every item on it, perfectly in place.

Except for one.

“How is this here,” you whispered, picking up the framed picture of you. It was from a day trip a few years ago, and you remembered smiling for the photo. You remembered how just a few hours later you were crying as your feet, and knees, and hips ached so badly from all the walking that you couldn’t find a comfortable position to sit or lie down in.

Relief flooded you that you’d never have to feel that lonely again.

Until you snapped back to the present.

This was your frame. From your house.

Fear rose quietly, rolling slowly from your core, your chest, rising up your throat.

It’s fine. I’m fine. There’s gotta be…

Your eyes lifted to the rest of the room, the frame forgotten in your grasp as you were drawn to a shelf across the office.

“My favorite books,” you observed, that fuzzy distance dampening all your senses.

These aren’t just my favorites. These are mine.

One of the books had a stain along the cover, and the bottom of the spine. You’d had it for years. It was well loved, and you'd always planned on buying a nicer copy of it. A mystery with a charming villain, one that you almost wanted to root for.

That's why you’d read it so many times. You knew everything he’d done was wrong. But he made it all so believable, so compelling, even after reading it again and again.

A surge of fear crashed through you, and that picture that shouldn't be here fell from your grip as you jolted. Glass shattered across your bare feet, but you couldn’t move, could only tremble in this metal room.

This metal room that was smaller than it was before.

A useless urge to call for help brought sick, frantic laughter from your throat.

No one can help me. It’s only him.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. They needed–”

Like a pathetic, helpless animal, you froze at the sound of his voice in his quarters. Unmoving, unbreathing, your wide eyes waited for him to find you.

His steps were silent as he walked through the open door. Those stone cold eyes scanned the room before he lunged toward you.

“Y/N, your feet,” he warned, the concern in his voice making you sick.

“Don’t touch me,” you cried out, gasping with pain as you slid your feet through the glass to get away from him.

“You’re hurt, Y/N. Please let me help you.”

His voice. You wanted to listen, that saccharine command disguised as a request.

“Why do you have my things?”

You started to gesture, but pulled your hands back to your chest. The sheet draped around your naked body sent a new spike of fear into your gut, and you trailed more blood across the floor as you backed away.

“Hey, it’s alright,” he soothed, staying low, with those tattooed arms held wide. “Just let me help you, and I’ll explain everything, okay?”

“Why do you have my things?”

Your voice was low and shaking, but he nodded.

“When I knew we’d be bringing you with us,” he said calmly, talking you off the ledge, “I wanted to make sure you'd be comfortable. I have more too, I took everything you’d need.”

Breathing was impossible while you fought his voice, fought to think on your own without his guiding hand.

“I’m so sorry, I should have told you sooner,” he looked down, nodding slightly before lifting those deep, guilty eyes to yours. “You’ve just been making such good progress. I was afraid that any reminder of that trauma, of the way you were treated there, might set you back.”

Gods, you wanted to believe him. You wanted to let it go and fall into his arms.

But guilt filled you, tearing more questions from your lips.

“How did you get these out of my house,” you accused, your anger overpowering your fear, your sense of safety.

“Did you hurt him? What did you do to him?”

Law’s lip showed just a hint of a snarl before his steady doctor face returned, and you whimpered as you backed up against the wall.

“Why do you care about him, Y/N? You remember how he treated you? How he let you suffer in silence? He didn’t bel–”

“Answer me!”

All he did was stand up straight, but it made you gasp.

“I would never do anything to hurt you, Y/N,” Law promised. “He’s fine, I didn’t hurt him.”

“How can I believe you,” you choked out, shivering from the scrape of the metal wall against your bare shoulders.

“I can prove it, okay? Please, let me show you.”

He walked backward toward the desk, keeping his hands up for you to see. Stepping behind the desk, he pulled a poster of Sora from the wall to reveal a safe.

“I didn’t hurt him, I promise. You know you can trust me, baby.”

The safe opened wide, and you spotted a few shelves with labels under rows of strange pinkish cubes. Law grabbed one, snagging the label with it before he went to his knees in front of you, but not too close.

“I didn’t hurt him, Y/N,” he confessed, that thick voice heavy with emotion. “But I did take this for you, in case you ever wanted to hurt him yourself.”

Those strong arms, those dangerous fingers, stretched out to show you the label with your boyfriend's name scrawled in Law’s rough handwriting.

He held out the cube, and you knew you shouldn’t take it. Shouldn't touch it.

But something about it was hypnotizing, you couldn’t figure out what it was.

Law placed it gently in your palm, and you could feel his eyes scraping against your skin as you focused.

It looked like a heart. A human heart. A shudder ran through your body.

Then a scream.

It had pulsed.

The heart you held in your hand was beating.

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: How are y’all doing? Hope you’re ready for the conclusion tomorrow! 🥰

Part 6 ~ End

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morethanmybody · 2 months

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Rules!

First off, you have to respect people’s (and muses’) pronouns. I’ve had a problem with this in the past and if you can’t do that, this really is not the place for you

Alright, onto more basic rules. Please don’t godmod and definitely don’t force ships or anything else on me. Just be considerate, really, and you’ll be fine

I won’t rp with muns under the age of 18 both for comfort reasons seeing as I’m an adult and also because this blog isn’t always sfw

I may not always be super active here (if this or anything like dropping threads, etc is bothersome to you, I am probably not your person), but I tend to be more active on discord and am almost always available to chat and plot. If we’re mutuals, feel free to ask for my discord!

On the topic of plotting, sometimes I love plotting extensively and sometimes I’d prefer to just wing it, but I’ll always take your preferences into account too!

Memes! Send me all of them. Seriously, as many as you want. I may not respond to them all, but I like having them in there for when I wanna write but don’t have specific ideas! I will also be sending you a whole bunch of memes as long as you’re okay with that!

I’m somewhat open to smut, but likely only with people I have written with in the past. If you’re just here for smut, I suggest you move on

I also write a lot of triggering topics with Taylah. Most notably, domestic/sexual/childhood/etc abuse, sex trafficking, drug addiction, and ableism. Taylah is often in an abusive relationship, was emotionally, physically, and sexually abused/trafficked as a child (and received an extreme form of applied behavior analysis "therapy"), is currently being sex trafficked, and is being manipulated into a drug addiction. I will happily tag any of this and anything else, but there will often be mentions of this and it also affects many aspects of their personality and I won't sugarcoat this stuff, but I am happy to not go into specific/intense situations with you

I’m somewhat selective and mutually exclusive, but I do wanna write with you all! I just reserve the right to say no to anyone I can not see my muses or my writing style or anything else meshing with you and your muse. I want this to be a fairly chill place. With that being said, I like having multiple threads with one person, I just may be slow to reply

I am known to drop threads because of lack of muse/motivation or simply forgetting as I have adhd. Muse/memory/etc can be fickle because of it. I can sometimes take months to reply and sometimes I'll reply within an hour, just depends! Never be worried about reminding me if it’s been more than a week or so since I’ve replied to a thread, I'm more than happy to give you an update

I’m open to any length of thread, but typically stick around para/multi-para with little formatting and I don’t typically use icons (you can do whatever you please!)

If you unfollow me, I'd prefer if you hard block me. I won’t seek you out to ask you why you did. You should always feel comfortable only writing and interacting with those you wish. If you ever want to come back after doing so though, feel free!

Oh also! I play around with canon HEAVILY. Sometimes I follow it, sometimes I don't. Pretty hard to follow Taylah's canon though considering she's in like 5 minutes of the entire show, so I've made up my own canon for them over the last... 3 years? I've written them for awhile now!

#rules.#ooc.

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nightmares--child · 8 months

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Every morning was the same routine. The doctors would come to his room in their sterile white coats and with their placid fake smiles, and they would ask him questions while giving him medicine. He didn't know what the medicine was, but it made him feel like his whole body was apart from his mind, loosely tied together by physical threads of sinew and wet flesh. He tried to fight it a few times, but that only ended up with him being held down by a gaggle of roughneck men while they pushed it into his veins by force.

After a few months, it became easier to let them do what they wanted to him.

Then, when they were done injecting him, they would put his useless body into a wheelchair and push him through a maze of corridors and doorways, none of which his drug-addled brain would allow him to remember past their vague color and shape.

The drugs would level out into a haze by the time they got him into the room and situated the center of their technological henge. They were just present enough to leave his scattered brain nice and suggestible. He was their behaved little subject, ready for his next round of tests.

"Good morning, Terry," Dr. Pachard's recognizable and gravely voice said, her tone professional but falsely sweetened as she checked his pupils with her penlight. "How are you feeling?"

He was sluggish to answer, voice soft and quiet as a sleepy door mouse. "Fantastic, Dr. Pachard. Can I go back to my room, please..?" He asked it every time, it was almost a running joke, at this point.

Dr. Pachard gave him the same smile she always did and said what she always said. "No, Terry, you can't." She attached the nodes to his head, an entire mess of wires and pads to monitor his brain activity through the session. He hated how it tugged at his messy black hair, and how it pressed down on his scalp, but he put up no resistance.

Again, after a few months, it became easier to let them do what they wanted.

She stood back up from her work, admiring the placements as she so often did. "There we are. Now please, Terry, relax and wait for the Phobic to arrive."

'The Phobic' is what they called the people they would bring in for him to break. The poor souls that entered shivering and left empty. He never wanted to do it, but they made him. The drugs made it too easy for him to lose control, just like they wanted.

Today an mature woman came shuffling in, dressed in a patients gown and wearing the same electrode cap as him. Nervous and trembling, she was sat down across from him by two of the guards. They said nothing as they strapped her to her chair, even as she asked, "Why are you strapping me down? I thought this was therapy..."

Over the intercom came Pachard's voice, "Ms. Clayton, please stay calm. This is all part of the process. Remember, this will help you."

"This will help me... This will help me, this will help me..." she repeated to herself, quiet and stammering. She lifted her gaze up from her feet to try and look at his face.

He couldn't even meet her eye, knowing what was about to happen. The room emptied, save for the two of them, and the bolt-locks engaged soon after. White, artificial light filled the room, making his photosensitive eyes squint shut. "Okay, Terry," Pachard began, "Focus on her. Focus on the energy of her fear."

He was already feeling it from the moment she had entered. Her barely quelled fright, quivering and bubbling within, was teasing at the edges of his subconscious like an animal scratching at the door. He actively resisted, most of the time, but with the drugs in his system, he found it too hard to deny. With the instruction given, he fought hard to keep himself at bay, shaking his head. "Not today, please..." he said under his breath.

"Terry, you don't have to make it harder on yourself. You're helping her by doing this. Now, focus."

Again, it tugged at his psyche -- the instinctual hunger. He swallowed and shut his eyes tight. Oh, he could see it inside of her. Such permanently echoing songs of terror nestled so deeply in her mind that he felt compelled to answer their call.

Undoubtedly, they were getting the readings they wanted from his brain, since Pachard encouraged, "There you go, Terry, like that. Now what do you see?"

The hunger seeped through with the drugs, and resistance gave way to nature. "Hay is laying in piles around her feet. Crows are cawing in the broken rafters above. There's a smell in her nose and a thumping in her heart."

"H-hey..." the woman said through a wavering voice, "What are you doing? How did you know about... Stop it..." She sank into herself and closed her eyes.

The fearstuff began to seep from her body, rolling out onto the floor like fog. No one but him could see it, but the machine henge still picked up on its presence. He heard the whirring of the monoliths, beginning to sap the fearstuff away from him. His starvation demanded more. "He's there. Long, skinny fingers. Needles and sprays. The mask is there, but there's no face. Only the mask..."

"Stop it!" she shrieked and ducked her head down, pulling hard against her restraints.

"Keep going, Terry," Pachard pressed. She didn't need to, it was instinct by now.

His eyes bolted open as the final impulses kicked in. "I know... I know what you're afraid of, Mary." He could feel it coming on, now.

The Shift.

The color of the room drained away as it began to happen. Bone stretched painfully. Muscles tore and healed and tore again. Organs relocated, popping and squelching. He stood up with a scream of pain, the last bits of his own form sinking away to be replaced by the terror-induced visage of her very worst fear.

The Scarecrow, a rogue he'd never once met, now stood in his place, dressed in burlap and flannel and rope, with needles on his fingers and holes for eyes. "Mary..." he said lowly, his voice no longer his own, but the one she remembered. "Show me your fear!"

With her guttural scream, it flooded forth from her. Fearstuff. The very thing his deepest instinct told him to consume. He fed upon it, breathing it all in with a maniacal laugh only she had heard before. Her hoarse shouts and cries went unanswered as he approached her for more sustenance and satisfaction. From then, it became a blur. She made a filling meal. By the time it was done, and his faculties were returning to him, her catatonic husk was being escorted out of the room. He was on the ground, sweaty and cold and violated. They had made him do it again.

He felt dizzy with the fill of fearstuff in his system, coursing with barely restrained energy. His body shook with the waves of power flowing through him. In the periphery of his vision, he saw Pachard's heels approaching him. Click clack click clack. The sound rattled his fragile mind. Kneeling down beside him, she began to remove the headset. "Good work, Terry. That amount of energy all at once has definitely gotten us some progress."

With disgust, he welled up a spit and launched it at her. Pachard ducked back, catching it right on the neck. As she wiped it away in stunned silence, he hissed out, "Damn you... She was a person and I..."

Pachard's calm veneer seemed chipped, and she stood up to make room for the guards to come and retrieve him. "She was part of the plan. We're closer now. That should mean something to you."

He forced himself up by his arms, attempting to drag himself toward her in an infuriated lunge until he was pinned to the ground by four, musclebound arms. "You bitch! You fucking bitch! You don't know what you're doing! He's going to tear the world apart, you idiots!" A sharp pain jabbed into his shoulder, and the woozy sway of tranquilizer began to weaken him into a pile on the floor.

As his consciousness gave way, he heard Pachard say, "Get her back to her room. We'll start again tomorrow."

#☽ wandering the dreaming #☽ the other side #tw transphobia

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traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors · 8 months

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Hi, so first of all I would say this is actually kind of urgent because it's really distressing me and I have nowhere else to go to and no one who can help me, but I wouldn't classify it as an emergency or crisis situation. I've just been having a very difficult time dealing with this, it's extremely disruptive and general advice like "Name 5 things you can see" or "Just do yoga" isn't cutting it right now, my job is at risk, and I feel like if things don't improve then I might have a breakdown.

Trigger Warning: Binge eating, weight mentions, chronically ill mom, verbal abuse

Looking for: Advice for my specific situation

Currently cannot access therapy, nor do I have access to caregivers/nurses or family members who can help me.

My mom is permanently bed-ridden. She has binge eating episodes but doesn't want to get help. She is overweight but the problem doesn't have to do with her weight so much as the mental impacts it has on her, like feeling of a loss of control during binge episodes, getting into dramatic moods during binging, and it's almost like a drug (she'll be going through a 'high' during the binge and then once it's over with she goes back to being unhappy and taking things out on people). When other people criticize her, she automatically thinks what they are criticizing is her weight rather than the mental aspect and how wildly she behaves, and she'll say things like "They shouldn't talk about me when they weigh even more than I do!"

Because my mom cannot get out of bed, I'm the one who has to cook everything for her. She starts asking for strange foods (like wanting me to cook things for her that aren't usual for us to eat, or that I've never prepared before). And she'll start adding on more and more details, so I can't really 'meal prep' because it always ends up becoming unpredictable. For example, today, first she wanted me to make her meat with rice as a side dish, which I'd consider a normal/simple meal. But then she kept adding on more instructions and by the end of everything it turned into a total different meal that I had to cook 5 additional things in order to complete. She comes up with the instructions spontaneously ("Oh, I want you to make this other food and then add it to the dish, too!") so it interrupts the cooking process and a lot of time also gets wasted reheating food since (quote from her) "I need to have my food very hot."

Afterwards, she will ask for an equally complicated dessert, have me make hot drinks for her, sometimes bring her more food, and literally keep eating and eating for HOURS, until she gets bored of it. And she's even admitted herself that she "does it out of gluttony" so she's not even hungry anymore at that point and admits it but she doesn't care that she is making me go through a lot of work just to appease her.

Now. The problem is that I have a job where I have to concentrate in front of the computer... and it feels extremely impossible to concentrate in front of the computer for long periods of time when shit like this keeps going on constantly. I had a friend suggest setting boundaries with my mom, but clearly my friend does NOT know what my mom is like (my mom doesn't give a fuck basically because she thinks everything needs to revolve around her). Also, I am chronically ill myself both physically and mentally, so often times, I'll be feeling completely drained. My mom is verbally abusive and says "My food takes no time to make, you just don't want to work and then blame everything on me, you are so ungrateful and useless." and constantly mocks me for supposedly not doing enough for her even though I don't know how many other people would spend hours every single day making ridiculous foods their mom starts craving on a whim. I am fucking tired to death, I am sorry but I just feel like I am reaching my limit with this. Like I woke up so motivated to work today and now it's all gone to shit because I'm TIRED and my mom doesn't even appreciate what I do, she gets pissed off at me for not looking happier while helping her, she thinks my job is stupid anyway, and God I'm just sick of all this.

Anon with the binge-eating bed-ridden mom again. Want to add an update. TW self harm. So last night I thought my mom was asleep and I ate something, which turned out to be like the greatest sin I could have committed and threw her into a rage. She got mad at me because I ate without telling her (whenever I eat or drink something, the "house rule" is to always offer my food/drink to her, which I would've done as normal except I thought she was asleep and didn't want to wake her up). She began screaming at me, and when I said "I didn't know you were awake, can I bring you food?" she refused it. But even though she didn't want the food she kept bringing me down while I was eating, to the point I felt so sick I couldn't finish my food. I know you might suggest "Go eat in another room" but I share a room with my mom in order to help her, and I really didn't think it would blow into a big deal because like I said I was sure she was asleep. I may try to avoid her while eating my own meals from now on even when I think she's asleep but yeah at the time I just didn't think of it because I would've never guessed this was coming. Because of all the guilt-tripping and feeling like a shitty person, I self harmed before I fell asleep. (And also today because of the next thing I'm going to describe) Thought my mom might be over it today, but actually she was even angrier than before, she was still screaming at me, telling me I'm trying to imitate girls who disrespect their moms because I think it's cool/trendy to act disrespectful and that eating my without offering it to her was a sign of disrespect to her (EVEN THOUGH LIKE I KEEP FUCKING SAYING, I WOULD HAVE OFFERED IF I THOUGHT SHE WAS AWAKE). And then after yelling at me, she jumped straight into making me cook things for her to binge eat again, and I still haven't been able to get the work for my job done, which is due very soon. It's not getting better for me.

Hi anon,

I'm genuinely sorry to hear about the situation you're in. It sounds super controlling and exhausting to live with. It's incredibly frustrating to hear about the way your mom treats you. It's normal not to offer food to people and it doesn't make you disrespectful. It sounds like she puts such incredibly high expectations on you that it's costing your mental and physical health, and it sounds like it's also starting to encroach on your job responsibilities as well.

Perhaps this is something you've considered, but is there anyone else you could stay with? It sounds like this environment is extremely toxic and taking a toll on your mental health. I know you said you don't classify this as an emergency or crisis situation, but for the sake of your health it is worth thinking of it that way. It may be worth involving the authorities here. I'm not usually so straightforward but you cannot afford to live like this. Here is a list of international crisis resources, ranging from suicide to domestic violence and child abuse.

If anyone has any suggestions or insight, I strongly recommend sharing your input here. Otherwise, I hope I could help and please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun

#mod bun #trauma talks #tw abuse #tw child abuse #tw emotional abuse #trauma details

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jammyjam · 2 years

Text

ACOTAR Rant, contains spoilers from the first book

So i have started reading the series and oh boy everything is so fucking wrong with the dynamics!

The absurdity of the power dynamics is beyond the space, there is nothing romantic nor caring on what Rhys did to Feyre. I want to love the series, the characters but can't find anything to 'validate' how fucked but Rhys is.

First, he did not give her an option on that damned offer to help her. He literally could have saved her without enslaving her, he knew well damned she needed him and he took advantage of it.

Second, he did not need to take her on to those fucked up nights, drug her and made her both dance and sit on his fucking lap. That is called abuse, PHYSICAL ABUSE.

Like, i want to love the series and Rhys but it's so fucked and i can't find anything to love. If I'm missing something let me know, else everyone who loves the book and romanticize the idea of Rhys need to get a therapy...

#acotar #everything is wrong #rhys acotar #feyre acotar #spoilers #booktok

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cognitosclowns · 2 years

Note

hey this might be a weird request but do you have any headcanons about everyone's handwritings? thanks!!!

OOH THIS WAS SUPER FUN TYSM,

all sfw!! Program used is (here)

OKIE ILL TRY TO KEEP THIS SHORT BC I COULD TALK ABOUT THIS FOR DECADES BUT :

OKAY on debated giving her,, Super Pristine Writing because she seems to have everything together

BUT

It's implied that she used to be a reporter? SO <333 I WANTED TO GIVE HER SMTH A BIT MORE,, SNAPPY <3.

Quick but legible! She's used to having to write down a lot of info vvvv quickly, so she kinda had to adapt on the go and WHABAM <3

LIKE,,, if she NEEDS to, ofc she can have Really Smooth, Pretty Writing,, but,,,, nah she likes to stick to Old Reliable sndmsnd.

OH and she absolutely knows shorthand. Anything of her's that,, doesn't need to be read by others is gonna be in shorthand <3

OH COME ON <333 THE TRIANGLE A'S I COULDN'T PASS IT UP. Not only efficient but,, On Theme smdsnd

Took reference from ep's 2 and 4 where we got to see her write!! She <33 seems to like Big Clunky Letters

NOT DIRECTLY RELATED BUT,, she types so INTENSELY DEAR GOD. VV fast, VV loud - everyone assumes she’s mad but,, nah she’s just efficient smdns

She much prefers typing bc,,, her handwriting can never keep up with how fast her thoughts are going?

EY SAME N'S AS REAGANS, PICKED THIS MOSTLY BC I LOVED THAT PARALLEL.

He gives me the vibes of smb who,, writes SUPER HARD but also vv fast?? It makes an audible sktch-sktch-sktch and leaves an indent on the page underneath.

<3333 UNCANNILY clean, to the point that it looks typed out

HE ALSO,, writes like 3d printer?? like he doesn't go letter by letter - to an outside observer, he makes this Very Quick Diagonal Scribble Motion, and somehow it creates Pristine Writing. (absolutely unecessary, but he delights in unnerving ppl)

OH AND DON'T THINK FOR A SECOND that this man wouldn't do,, the most Dramatic, Swoopy handwriting when signing things. Just to be a showoff. Little bastard smdns.

*vague gestures* business

OH but just <33 very loose-wrist handwriting. He signs so many things,, all the time,, oughe he absolutely has a Ganglion cyst or like,, carpel tunnel. By the end of most nights its just an,, Up-Down-Up-Down zig-zag.

he used to have a Super Swirly signature but,, eventually it just became a loose scribble

OH he probably had,, passable handwriting but his coordination is dreadful post-surgery

SMDNS DOESN'T HELP THAT,,, HE ABSOLUTELY SKIPPED MOST OF THE PHYSICAL THERAPY HE SHOULD HAVE DONE.

It isn't that he can't write, it's just difficult to get the letters as precise as he used to and that has a habit of frustrating him? So then he writes even worse and it becomes a kerfuffle

if he's patient tho and gives himself a singular break its pretty clear!!

A hint of Fancy Yancy, but it's loosened up a bit as he's gotten older and distanced from his Private School Years!!

OH he absolutely journals <33 nothing too fancy - a few photos he's printed out, mostly of The Gang, little things around Cognito that he appreciates, etc!!!

Ofc he could do all that online but,,, the act of writing everything out forces him to take his time with it? and really thing through and appreciate the memories he's writing down? eaoughe <3

This font was chosen for the kindness of it's smile and I'm not ashamed to admit it

TENTACLE MAN WOULD HAVE SHIT HANDWRITING. IF HE GAVE HIMSELF HANDS IT'D BE EVEN WORSE.

Truly deeply madly please never ask him to write down anything for you it will only end in pain.

He both does not listen and does not care about most things that ppl are saying and OOFE THATS A RECIPE FOR DISASTER SMDNSD.

LIKE SURE ITS VAGUELY comprehensible but overall??? no smdnsmd. If he's gotta record smth he's 1000% gonna prefer oral dictation - he can speak a mile a minute when he wants to!

He's on Every Drug All At Once All The Time sdmsnd there's no way he has clean hand writing

I feel like it also,, wobbles a lot?? Full on ~~~~ across the page, and instead of correcting on the NEXT line, he just follows that same curve??

OH and he has a horrible habit of overestimating how much he can cram in the margins. There's never enough space, he's gonna end up overlapping into stuff he's already written and hate himself in the morning when he's gotta re-read it-

DESPITE ALL THIS? He does like writing stuff by hand most of the time - it kinda helps ground him? He has a bad habit of getting,, TOO caught up in his projects. When his hand starts cramping, its usually a good reminder to stop.

The only time he sticks to typing is when his tics are being A Pain In The Ass bc,, he doesn’t want to bother with having to scratch stuff out over and over again lmao

#inside job #gigi thompson #myc #magic myc #glenn dolphman #andre lee #rand ridley #reagan ridley #jr scheimpough #alpha-beta #robotus alpha-beta #i get the vibe that Glenn's absolutely the type to internally beat himself for not being able to do everything he used to before his surger #also andre 1000% forgets to add the M.D Ph.D at the end of his title smdnsd #this made me wonder if Myc actually WORKS at cognito. like is his job JUST to be milked? what does he DO the rest of the time smdnsd #OUGHE #ALSO HI HI HI SORRY FOR DISSAPEARING SO OFTEN ITS BEEN SO HECTIC #HANDS YOU ALL A COOKIE TYSM FOR EVERYONE SENDING IN ASKS #MWA #DW ILL GET OUT SOME PROPER HC'S TONIGHT OR TMRW #MWA OKIE THATS IT HAVE A LOVELY DAY FRIENDS #i really hope they elaborate on andre's ocd and tics... please i beg give us a drop of representation PLEASE #OH YES AND PLEASE FEEL FREE TO ADD YOUR OWN IDEAS AS ALWAYS

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messwriting · 3 years

Text

Written for The Smut Pile Collab: Western AU | MASTERLIST HERE.

(my saddle’s waiting) ride it

Iwaizumi “Big Guns” Hajime x Female Reader

Rating: E for explicit | Don’t read this if under eighteen.

Warnings: Being ridiculous in front of your crush. Porn With Plot. Not researched strippers industry. Lowkey exhibitionism. Oral in a public space (bathroom); Cock-blocked Interrupted orgasms; Masturbation/fingering; Fingering in public (street), then while driving. Driving while fingering? Unsafe driving. Fucking against a door, then a wall. Alcohol and mentions of drugs. Side Tendou/Oikawa. Bit of a teasing, overconfident Iwachan. A poor excuse of oblivious colleagues to lovers.

Word count: WAY TOO BIG. +11k.

Note: 🤠 Brought by your wicked duo degenerates, Saint Dymphna and me: LAWBREAKERS MULTIVERSE 🤠 electric bogaloo

You guys know the drill @dymphnasprose started this all with their tempting ways! It was the image of Iwaizumi all oiled up, working in his garage like Channing Tatum that made me cave and do this. Once again, being with Dymph is nothing short of amazing and I LOVE THEM 🥺💕💕

This is wayyyy too ploty for something where I just wanted people to bang, but you guys know how I get with Iwaizumi. I’m not totally happy about how this turned out but honestly I have no time to work on it and it has to be out. You guys will realize I went full myself with Reader’s crush on Iwaizumi in this. Sorry not sorry.

Biiig, huuuuuge thanks to both @vanille--kiss and @oneblonded for their help in beta-ing this, you guys are incredible. 💕 As always a big thanks to @mixedhell who always helps me when I’m troubled <3

Iwa’s song: Pony (of course)

You can also read: MAKKI | MATTSUN

You check your phone and realize you’re late… again.

You hate, hate, hate morning classes, but if you want to be in time for your internship and still have time to study and, well, live, you’re obligated to accept the first class of the day on a Friday. You hate it, and you hate it even more that it’s how you have to end your week but you’ve made peace with it.

That doesn’t mean you can actually get there in time, reason why you’re twenty minutes late running with your keys and coffee in one hand while you try to balance both your books and your backpack with the other. And when you push the door with your hip, it makes a loud squeaking noise while opening, ruining both your quiet entry and bringing everyone’s eyes on you, of course, because when have you ever been granted a fucking break, right?

“Sorry!” You murmur while trying your best into making a curt bend, and your professor looks over his glasses to you in a very pointed manner but other than that he resumes what he was speaking on before.

You know he hates you being late (especially as a repeat offender) but you’re a fairly participative student and you regularly earn one of his top grades, so you think that buys you some slack -- and leverage. You go to your habitual seat by the wall, and try your best not making any other noises while you set everything in their places and, thankfully, a moment later, you’re able to breathe while in your seat, with your open computer and notes ready. You give yourself about twenty seconds to drink a bit of your coffee and check out where in the topic the professor is lecturing about.

“That’s why Iwaizumi-san will be receiving your papers. I’ll be returning to the next week, and in the time being, he’ll be doing the full TA hours. If you have any questions just ask him and remember to schedule appointments before-hand, if possible.” Your professor states something that makes it clear you lost some important announcement at the beginning of the class and your eyes fly to Iwaizumi in response, but the man is just sitting at his normal place, front class, quietly nodding to the professors’ explanation while his big hands fly over his notepad.

You sigh, wistfully, and take another sip of your coffee while your eyes thread over his form, clad in loose jeans that still seem tight in those amazing thighs of his and a hoodie that doesn’t do much to hide those incredible arms. Iwaizumi isn’t very tall, but he’s still taller than you and his shoulders are broad enough to engulf anything behind him when you stand too close. God, you wished Iwaizumi would do full TA hours on you anytime. He could work you into overtime too, you certainly don’t mind.

You gulp down the saliva that overflows your mouth with some coffee and leaves another small breath to accompany your thoughts.

You snicker just a bit and Iwaizumi’s eyes are suddenly on yours and your blood pressure peaks in a second while you choke on your coffee. Your teacher asks if you’re okay and you are obligated to answer yes while trying to shrink into the chair.

See. Incredible track-record.

You manage to not make a complete clown of yourself during class again and even win over some praise from your professor for your contributions in the debate about ethical issues and patient safety. It’s usual that you and Iwaizumi end up interacting with each other’s input in debates but he was quiet today and when you’ve made an addition to his comment about unhelpful patients and mandatory rest all he did was nod and roll his jaw. As if you know what the fuck that means.

You chalk it up to him stressing over being in full TA hours for the week and when the class ends you stay in your seat while finishing typing some notes before you blink and they’re suddenly lost in your brain. When you look up and start packing your things you realize there’s only you and Iwaizumi left in the class and notice he’s looking directly at you, almost as if he was waiting for it.

You don’t think there’s another man who can look so dashing before ten am and with just a small corner lip smile, but hey, you’re not complaining.

“Hey,” he says a one-word greeting and holds his hand up and your heart leaps before you can manage to send a smile his way. Ah, it’s really unfair how cute he is.

“Hey Iwa,” you greet back in a fair tone even if you feel a bit hot in the face, “You were unusually quiet today.”

He smirks and his hand clasps his neck for a moment while he scratches his hair. “Aa, just busy.” He hooks his backpack over his shoulder and walks over to you while you’re still packing your books. “You lost the warning, right?”

“Yeah, late. Something important?”

“Nothing big. It’s the deadline for the midterm article, which you lost the explanation to but here--” He extends you his open notepad and you see the notes and instructions there, scribbled in block letters not very neatly, but fairly organized. You look it over briefly, confirm that is nothing different from the normal and bring your phone to take a picture.

“Thanks, Iwa. Do you need any help with the TA hours?”

“Nah. It’s all fine. I organized my internship last month to have this week off.”

“Oh, smart,” you say as you swing your backpack over your shoulder and pick up your purse and the single book that couldn’t fit with your laptop in it. Iwaizumi makes you nervous. You’re fairly sure it’s because of the massive fucking crush you have on him. “Well, let me know if you need help.”

“Thanks,” you notice that he stays there looking at you for a second more... And then a few seconds more.

“Is everything okay?

“You’ve been getting to class late a lot,” his eyes turn wide when he realizes what he just blurted out and the small pink dust atop his cheeks could be the thing that ends up killing you. Your brain gets lost in a chant of CUTECUTECUTE and for a moment you resist the urge to clench your books to your chest. “The professor asked me to see if everything was okay.”

“Oh, ah…” You actually force a bit of laugh out at that, surprised and a bit breathless. Dammit, you monitor two classes and then suddenly being a little bit late becomes a crime. “It’s nothing, actually. I’m just not a morning person. And I hate early classes, but I needed to get this one because of my internship, so I’m struggling with the time.”

Iwaizumi nods and even gives you a short smile while you two start walking alongside one another out of the class. “Ah, you should really fix your sleep schedule. You know the drill, eight hours every night.”

“You mean that impossible thing?” You laugh and thank him when he opens the door for you two to pass. Hot and a gentleman, God really has favorites. “I’m trying, but it’s easier said than done and I’m something of a night owl.”

“Brat. You’re just on your phone until late,” Iwaizumi snickers and you all but gasp, and before you can say anything he’s signaling to the other side you’re going. “I still have classes, see you on the TA hours?”

“Yeah, I have two days of TA next week,” you manage to squeak out without making a fool of yourself after he calls you a brat and even smiles his way despite the way you feel a sudden heat wave over your body.

“Nice. See you then.”

“Bye Iwa.”

You scurry off the other side and when you turn a corner you stop and do something absolutely ridiculous that is an internal scream with your head against the wall. You press your forehead against the cold tile and breathe about two or three times, all while your mind goes into overheat after a small talk with Iwaizumi Hajime, the hottest, most amazing Teacher Assistant this Physical Therapy course must have ever had.

You hear someone saying your name while you try to recover and when you look to your side your heart sinks to your stomach as your eyes turn into plates. Hajime is looking at you funny, holding out a small paper to you and probably wondering if you’re okay in the head. Of course it’s him. It wouldn’t be you if this didn’t happen.

“Ahhh, hi again?” You squeeze out in a weird breathless voice and Iwaizumi’s eyes seem to turn a pretty dark shade while his lips spread in a grin.

“You let this fall.”

Sure, of course, you dumbass did.

“Are you okay?”

“Thanks, Iwa. I was uhhh just…” You press your lips because your mind is blank and then God decides to cut you some slack with a momentaneous brilliance. “I forgot an important thing was due tonight and yeah, I was just screaming at myself.”

“Anything I can help with?”

Yes. Marry me. Or just fucking, you’re not picky.

Your whole face burns and you lower your eyes for a moment because the images assaulting you are just too much. Iwaizumi looks just so good up close, all sharp jawline and hard planes on that spiky jet-black hair and green eyes. Jesus Christ, looking like that should be illegal.

“No, it’s just something for this bachelorette party I have tonight.” God decides to grace you with some more lying skills and you thank them internally. There’s even a smile on your face.

Iwaizumi nods away with your explanation.

“Ohh,” He says with a smirk and your heart does a leap. “That’s nice. Give the bride my congrats.”

“Thanks. I’ll tell her.” Then, he extends the paper again and you finally grab it, once again making a fool of yourself to him. “Sorry, thanks for this.”

Iwaizumi just nods and smiles your way, quickly turning back and leaving after saying goodbye and waving your way. This time you have half a mind to search a bathroom before screaming for real.

Honestly, you cannot believe where you are right now. Lawbreakers. The name is written in a pretty calligraphy font in bright fucking neon that simply demands attention in the dark of night. It’s the final stop of the bachelorette party of your good friend to which you are late. From the group text, everyone is at least nicely buzzed and you’ve been laughing with the ridiculous pictures the group of women have been sending you non-stop while calling you a buzzkill.

As your car pulls into the front of the place, you just can’t help but snort. It’s cheesy, definitely tacky but nice, a use of the western theme that actually plays well.

Outside there’s a neon cowboy riding a horse and you just… can’t help but be amused. There’s a small line of women waiting even when it’s already late but you walk up front as your friend had told you too, perks of being a member of the VIP entourage of women partying in the allegedly last night for your friend to be free.

The doorman lets you in quickly and just as you’re passing the threshold a tall, pretty and lean, but built man clad in nothing but a white outfit rolls to your side, offering a flute of sparkling wine from a tray.

“Well, look at that.” The smile he sends you is trained, but charming and you can’t help but smile back. “We truly do have the prettier customers. Can I offer you some champagne? Maybe something stronger?”

You’re just bringing your hand up to say no when you stop, muse about how much catching up you’ll have to do with your friends inside and shrugs. “Well, better get a head start, right?”

“Yes!” He congratulates you, standing too close as he brings you a flute and deposits on your fingers, his hand trailing on your pulse for a moment before he lets go. Then, he throws you another charming smile, the mischief reaching his eyes this time. “That’s a good girl~”

You try to hide the way his charm works by letting your mouth fall in a small laugh, but something tells you he catches that either way. That, you think, is what you call a seasoned pleaser.

“Thank you.”

Your cheeks are heating the tiny bit as you scurry off the corridor to the club insides, following the loud music and increasingly louder screams.

“Enjoy the show!” The man chuckles behind you and you raise your glass in acknowledgment, hurrying inside to do just that.

Honestly, it’s not what you were expecting.

As you pass the wooden saloon doors at the end of the corridor, the sound of screaming surrounds you as physical waves, washing through your body in such a high pitch you stumble in your heels. The energy inside makes you unable to not enjoy yourself automatically, surrounded by tables of women and a few groups of men all completely enthralled on the show that’s already happening inside.

For starters, western decoration aside, you were definitely not expecting to see your friend, the bride-to-be, being grinded on stage.

The strawberry-blonde male is thrusting against the center of your friend's legs, precise and exciting wave-like motions that clearly are making everyone inside, your friend included, lose their minds. He grinds and holds himself up, moves your friend around as if she’s a doll and humps her behind. It looks so sinful and still in perfect beat with the song and for a second your mind just-- short circuits, hand shooting to your mouth as the laughs tip over loud and hearty. Your friend is burning in embarrassment at the way the man is moving and grinding on her, hands almost locked on her body as if she thinks she can’t move or something will just blow up.

Then again maybe she’s the one who’ll blow up, being so close to such a fucking hot man. You can definitely see how that would make her blow a fuse, completely not used to this kind of thing.

You manage to stop laughing at your friend losing it on stage and quickly spot the table, the balloons that have been featured in lots of pictures making themselves seen: bright teal things stating “one dick forever”. Every single one dressed in black and with their current bright plastic cowboy hat. It could be worse; if the place wasn’t so fitting with it’s bright lights and mixed decorations ranging from cowboy neon signs and saddles in place of stools.

By the time you manage to walk over amidst the screaming and join in on the girls fun, the showman has finally let your friend go in prol of fishing another happy bride and she looks every bit completely shaken as you’ve thought.

“Hey, baby, you good?” The slit in her white dress is higher, clearly a side effect of the way the man hiked her legs just so…open, and you chuckle at how she huffs a breath out and let herself fall against the cushions, both parts pent up and mortified.

Well, you’re already liking the place.

Then, one of the other bridesmaids presses a full plastic flute of champagne to your hand, calls everyone up to a toast and you let yourself fall back into the festivities. Your friend seems to be having a hard time coming back from the heated grinding session in the middle show, to which she excuses herself from the table and reassures everyone that she’s fine. Still, you pull her on the side, ask her once again if she’s okay, to which she just explains she needs some air.

God, you understand.

You were about to follow her when another bridesmaid pulled you into a hug, happily chatting about how this place was incredible, and trying to fill you in on the fun you missed by being late. Your eyes accompany your friend for a moment, seeing as she walks a bit clumsy but otherwise fine to the corridor that leads to the bathroom. Well, she would be fine.

The current show ends and the lights glow brighter, finally allowing you to check out the place. The Lawbreakers Club is nice and full; filled to the brim with groups of women and men around and apparently yours is not the only bachelorette party taking place in the western-themed strip bar. The waiters are wearing skimpy little clothing, the place decorated as a cross-theme of magic mike and an imitation of a western saloon.

Then, before you can even finish the current drink you have in your hands, the lights go down once again while the stage is lightened up in bright neon. You’re all close enough and with an amazing stage view to catch when a very tall, very pretty, brunette who welcomed you earlier comes to the middle of the stage.

The crowd goes immediately wild as the song is lowered to a simple mumble in the background and the man walks slowly to the center stage, open hands and the devastating smile of someone who knows they’re all that and more.

Bit obnoxious but hey, there’s a literal horde of women screaming for him. You’d say it’s acceptable.

“Well, well, well, look like we have a full house tonight.”

The screaming reignites, sounding even louder since they also come from your own table and you can’t help but laugh.

“Are you guys ready for the next show?” The crowd screams a resonant yes. “Good. Let us make a lot of noise for two of our best, biggest outlaws around.” As the cheers erupted once again, you can actually hear some names being called, all revolving around names with big, pretty or animals thrown around.

“Did someone actually scream for Issei Horsecock?” You ask the bridesmaid closer to you and both of you laugh when she says yes. “Oh, wow.”

“Yes, yes, you know the ones. Now, let’s make our Big Guns flustered with the warm welcome, you know what a big softie he actually is under all that hard, big, brute exterior.” It’s actually enthralling to see Oikawa dealing with the crowd, you can’t help but laugh away at his faces and double meaning. Then he stops, winks at the crowd and goes, “Maybe he just needs a ride. So, ride it, ponies.”

It’s clear the announcement everyone was waiting for, as the crowd loses right there. The lights are once again focused on the stage, dripping low as the music picks up in a sexy beat as two big, broad and athletic men make their ways to the center stage, Oikawa nowhere to be seen anymore.

You cannot believe your eyes. You blink them once but then become completely unable to tear your vision from the image unfolding in front of you even for a second. The men comes to the front of the stage, holds onto the pole dance and undulates in a sinful, unholy trusting motion that has your mouth watering and he falls backwards with his hand supporting himself as his legs part on the metal pole and he keeps trusting in time with the bass, a honest-to-god mimic of sex that has you swalowing dry and drooling, your body heating up at the simple images that ellicit in your brain.

He does a twirl in the air, falls in a plank and holds a hand up to hold his cowboy hat all while supporting his body in only one hand. He undulates in thrust motions, twerk his ass in the air before pressing down and takes his hat off his head as a display of strength you never in your mind thought would get you this bothered.

His jet black hair is short and spiky, mussed by sweat and you immediately licks your lips at the salacious thought of licking it up from his skin. He falls with his back on the floor, start once again to proove just how fucking incredible it would be to ride him and then gets up in one single jump that knocks the air of your lungs.

You take in all of him as the light catches on his perfect body, wearing nothing more than an open black leather vest with beaten dark jeans and a big, daunting belt buckle and the cowboy hat in his hand.

And you feel as you have a out of body experience as his face registers in your mind, that mischievous smirk gracing his lips making your whole brain crash into a halt because you recognize that man as no one other than Iwaizumi Hajime, your long-time crush and Teacher Assistant with whom you were just earlier today.

Your eyes are unable to look anywhere but him, completely enthralled by the simplest realization that that single amazing piece of man is actually your long time crush, kind-of-friend and colleague. It feels unreal, impossible, to wrap your head around that piece of information and you’re rendered speechless, mind-blown and enchanted, eyes locked on his glistening muscles, the spanse of his skin on show growing by the minute as he does movements straight out of a wet dream.

Yours, to be even more specific.

It’s clear he doesn’t see you with the dimly lit room and the crew of women chanting. You’re sitting dumbfounded, mouth agape and blood reeling enough that your forehead seems like it will explode, but also feeling as if you’re suspended in a haze - as if Iwaizumi’s body undulating on the air as he holds himself on a pole is something of a spell and you’re definitely sucked in by it.

You can pinpoint the exact moment he sees you, as his show’s ending and the lights around the stage start shining once again. It’s painfully clear how Iwaizumi tenses from the realization, his eyes falling wide and curses tipping from his beautiful lips, the top of his cheekbones lighting up as he all but runs from the front of the crowd and in a moment you’re mirroring his embarrassment, face heating at the bizarre situation you’re finding yourself into.

Your TA is a stripper. And a very good, famous one at that.

What exactly are you supposed to do with this information?

It’s almost an hour and about three shows later where you’re filling your head pounding by the beat, unable to relax even as delicious men pass through your table and play with your friends.

You feel tense, paranoid at what exactly has happened and where Iwaizumi may be, stomach turning and unresponsive as you try to sooth it with booze until you give up, rising on unsteady legs. Muscles strained from how long you’ve been sitting still, afraid to look anywhere and be slapped across the room with some other shocking news.

You take a deep breath as you balance yourself once again on your heels and walk to the bathroom for some needed cool-down, latching on the opportunity when another show is already rolling, a hot but unapproachable-looking man with blond hair and streaks on it owning the stage as if it’s his territory.

As you’re turning on the corridor, however, you’re circled by big arms and yanked from the ground, a yelp turning into silence as you take one look around and find dark green eyes boring into yours, a harsh look on Iwaizumi’s face that make you embarrassed at what it does to your guts.

He scurries off with you inside a place that looks like a private room, fairly dark with red lights around and a ominous pole-dance stage in the middle that makes your mind overheat at the images it summons: the man in front of you clad in nothing but a black jeans rolling his hips up into the air as if daring you to take a ride.

Well, shit.

Iwaizumi’s arms leave your sides and you stumble a bit, eyes diverting down as your face burns. You realize he takes that the wrong way when he sounds gruff and pissed.

“What? Can’t even look at me now?”

You look up in time to catch his arms crossing around his front. You wish he didn’t do that, as now you have one of the hottest men you’ve ever seen all angry-looking with bulging arms oiled and shining, clad in nothing but removable pants, leather chaps, vest and a black cowboy hat.

You groan something unintelligible as you lose the ability to speak and Iwaizumi’s expression turns sour, lips pressed so hard it almost seems like he’s pouting, his hard eyes looking anxious and downcast.

That’s what helps your brain kickstart, completely unable to see Iwaizumi looking remotely sad and acutely aware of how this must be taxing on him.

“Sorry, I-- It’s not you,” You wince as his eyes center on you, unimpressed, “I mean it! It’s just-- I was caught off guard.”

Iwaizumi makes a humming noise and centers his eyes on you as if he’s waiting for you to keep going but your brain is completely blank, staring at him with wide eyes and burning surprise. You have to make a serious effort to avoid letting your eyes wander his frame.

“So,” you start, unable to handle the silence and Iwaizumi groans, pulling his cowboy hat off to thread fingers over his hair in a nervous display that you’re sure he did not mean to be sexy but ends up being anyway. “I’m not sure what to say here.”

“Shit. What are you even doing here?”

“Bachelorette party,” you answer without missing a beat and he all but groans again, as if just remembering is an actual thing that exists- and probably gives him lots of money if tonight was anything to go by.

The clear display of his anxiety actually helps you get a bit more at ease, and you can’t help but crackle an awkward smile. “So... you work here.”

“Yes,” Hajime brutal honesty shows he’s regaining his composure. “It’s good money if you work well and the hours are flexible.”

Not the only thing that’s flexible. You bite your lips at the thought to stop the words from actually spilling from your lips.

“I take it you're not public about this?”

“As little as I can considering the pictures and social media. The club is kinda famous, too.”

“I noticed.”

The silence stretches for a moment as Iwaizumi looks around nervously, his stance unmoving. You take a deep breath and sigh, lips falling in an odd, astonished smile. “Wow, Iwa, that’s…”

“What?” He bites back, defensive. You just end up chuckling, long breath falling from your lips as you look at him and can’t help but be once again dumbfolded at how fucking perfect this man is.

“Nothing, it’s just-- I would never expect it. It’s amazing, though. You’re amazing.” You wince at your own words and how telling they are, but carry on despite the burning on your face. “You seemed like a completely different person out there.”

Definitely not the quiet TA you’re used to. Definitely still completely gorgeous.

Your body tenses as your heart does somersaults in your chest, hunger flaring enough that your throat constricts and your face burns once again.

“Don’t you think it's bad?” It comes out a bit strained, his eyes trained on you, tense and vulnerable. And you just about fall deeper for him right there.

“Why? It’s your work.” You try your best smile, and after a little consideration Hajime’s shoulders finally seem to relax, lips jutting up just a bit as he breathes deep.

“No one in the university can know though,” Iwaizumi says quickly, eyes on yours with a little, tiny smirk. “Obvious reasons.”

That makes you giggle.

“Of course. I’ll keep your secret.” You agree in earnest, honest and clear, and this time when you smile at him, your whole body warms at how his eyes fall down to look at it.

“Good.” His voice goes down a tone, husky and gruff- and making unspeakable things to your already poor state. “Did you enjoy the show?”

Your heart seems to shoot up to your throat, and you try to squeeze words out around it.

“I… uh… yes, I mean, sure. It was… quite incredible.”

“Really.” Hajime smirks and you try to swallow your heart before you choke.

His green eyes stare deeply at your face, drinking the burning on your cheeks, the quick beat of your pulse on your throat, the pursed, wet lips and the way you tremble when he all but takes a step closer. You brace yourself, eyes lifting from the ground to center on him and the sticky, hot sensation spreads through your lower limbs at the burning heat you find there.

“Well, there’s another one to be done.” That tone comes again and you’re forced to press your legs just a tiny bit closer, suddenly aware of the fact you’re both alone in a dark room. He takes another step closer and your eyes fall on his lips, smirk starting to split his face in two, “Stick around.”

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out and Hajime’s eyes turn darker.

"Iwa-channn~''

It's so close it sounds loud from across the half-opened door and Iwaizumi seems to fall back on himself, annoyance furrowing his brows. He takes another deep, heated look on you but tears his eyes away before you can’t say anything.

“Sorry, have to go.”

Your breath leaves you in one go. It feels like you just stepped off a rollercoaster, blown off the ground and slow to catch up.

“Okay, uh, good show?”

“It will be,” Hajime’s eyes are warm on you. Meaningful. “Watch it all, okay?”

And then he leaves, the brightness from the corridor snapping you from your haze as you suck all the oxygen left in the room and then screams silently against your hands.

Iwaizumi feels nervous for the first time since the first time he stepped on stage, about two years ago. It feels like he has something to prove and conquer in this single performance and it doesn’t help that Makki comes running late, smelling of sex and sporting marks that tell just of that, too. But for once Hajime decides he has his own stuff to worry rather than the shit his friends pull.

When they step on stage, his eyes zoom-in on you immediately, something spreading on his skin as he finds your attention centered on him - bulging, enthralled eyes and warm appreciation.

Hajime smirks. They haven’t even started yet.

On cue, Mattsun, Makki, Oikawa and Kyoutani slide on their position and Iwaizumi is delighted that your eyes remain on him.

When the show starts, among screamings and money being waved, he follows the steps nicely, out of habit. Iwaizumi tilts his hat at you and you burn so bright he feels his skin heating at the newfound power.

His vest is the first to go off and he makes sure to have his hands running around his chest more than once, teasing slide until the leather chaps as he thrusts his hips, waving motion that covers his whole body.

He circles, back muscles in the spotlight as his hands come up behind his head, holding the cowboy hat snug in his head, ass tight in the black briefs as he keeps the motions and then turns to fall down on a plank. Iwaizumi grinds down on the floor, blinks and smiles at the ladies but his eyes are only searching for you.

He gets up with an elaborate move and puts both his hands on the pole, holding himself up sideways before circling it, dropping and incorporating some break dance Kyoutani teached him.

Hajime’s hand slid easily with the oil on his skin, slowly planting his thumb under the loops of his leather chaps to the sound of screaming. He feels electricity edge through his skin -- someone’s eyes focused solely on him and the thrill of it it’s nothing he’s ever felt before. Suddenly he understands a bit more about how Oikawa feels with Tendou around.

Iwaizumi thrusts his hips forward once, snaps his belt off in the air with one pull, making the crowd gasp and scream and the itching on his skin turns south. He watches as your eyes follow the hard planes of his abs and the tight squeeze of his thighs on his leather chaps and then snap back into his face. The fact it’s you only makes it all the more exhilarating.

The choreo is once again on the floor, and he drops to it in a wave motion, hips humping on nothing without faltering, tight ass in the air winning cheers and waves; even so, it’s your silent appraisal that rings the louder.

He gets up again, circles the pole in a charming, teasing manner as he holds the metal bar and grinds on it. Iwaizumi lets his hat on the ground and turns his back to the public in time to snap his pants off in one go, at the same time as the other men on stage, staying in nothing but a ridiculously tight, dark, leather brief.

When he was first presented to the thing, he hated it and opted to go comando into some shows, which earned him some nice money and was always quite the surprise to the patrons. Now, as his eyes lock on yours and your wicked tongue peaks out to lick your plush lips in nothing but appreciation, Iwaizumi is rendered quite fond of the offending thing -- who’d thought this day would come.

Your eyes are glued to him and it almost hurts Iwaizumi that he can’t go straight to you, bring you on stage with him and glide your hands all over his body. He’s unsure of how to proceed but there’s no chance in hell he’s throwing this shot away.

He’s been crushing on you for far too long to do that.

In fact, the dumbfounded look on your eyes is quite endearing, much like all the fumbling and tripping over yourself that he got used to expect every time he sees you. Iwaizumi just assumed you were a bit clumsy and quiet, but then he got to know you and it all blew in his face.

You were a bit of a dumbass but also beautiful, kind, dedicated and attentive. The crush that started as a endearing feeling quickly escalated into opressing and Iwaizumi was all but rendered stupid around you at all times, firm believer that you never truly looked at him like that.

However, as you stare at him unblinking and eager, the picture of hunger in the most delicate predator, Iwaizumi realises he may be wrong and that thought alone is enough to ignite his veins.

Oikawa fishes a lady, pushes her on Kyoutani then does the same with another for Iwaizumi.

He smiles at her, professional, and brings her hands to his chest, his hips drawing circles against her. As her tentative strokes and fondling turn into frantic holds and clawing nails, his eyes can’t help but slide sideways, taking in the way you’re hanging out of every move of her hands.

Fuck, Iwaizumi can’t get hard. But there’s a clear throbbing threading south at your concentration. He can’t help but wonder if you’re imagining your hands on his body instead of hers; your hips against his as he grinds on hers; your mouth on his biceps when she kisses his trademarked asset, the ones that gave him his stripper name.

The woman slides several singles around his briefs, not without copping a few and your mouth falls open in an indignated breath. Iwaizumi tries hard to avoid it going to his dick.

He fishes for another woman in the audience as he lets the groups slide more singles not only on his briefs but inside his boots. Iwaizumi pulls one while she’s sitting in the chair, deposits it on the stage and grinds on her enough that the woman is overheated, hands faltering by her sides. Hajime’s eyes search yours once again, drinking, basking in the envy he pinpoints.

Does that mean you wish to be under him, like that? To feel his body against yours, his hips between your legs, his lower body shoved on your face?

Hajime ends his routine with this one halfway, unable to let them feel what you are doing to him and then - finally - he’s free to walk over to your table. Semi-naked, with his boots, hat and slow-rising hard-on.

He’s done this enough times to be able to keep up with the choreo while he’s navigating the tables, hips thrusting and circling, strangers hands sliding on his oiled body to deposit dollars anywhere they can. They’re mostly handsy, few grab his dick and scream, others palm at his thighs and chest. There’s both numbers and dollars being thrown on him but Iwaizumi is used to it - and that’s definitely not his focus tonight.

Iwaizumi stops for a moment at the table before yours. Joining in the fun as Oikawa is happily grinding on his roommate. It gives Hajime a chance to look your way, enough to find you completely enthralled by his body, wide eyes unwavering, mouth open in a breath as your hand fists the flute you’re holding, the perfect depiction of surprise and enchantment and fuck, Iwaizumi is thrilled.

When Hajime finally stops in front of you, you’re looking at him as if under a spell; mouth hanging softly as stars shine in your eyes and he can’t be faulted for fisting your hair, pulling you up to meet his chest, even if he’s careful with where he touches you.

Iwaizumi pretends his lips gliding against the shell of your ear is not a planned thing.

“You’re looking too hard. Are you enjoying the show that much?”

Your lips move without words falling from it and having you speechless all but set him on fire. Iwaizumi thanks every god (and begrudgingly Oikawa) for his expertise in what he’s about to do. His hand slides on your hips, feeling the way you sway with tremors and stop on your back to support you as he bends you backwards. His mouth skims the skin of your neck and dips lower, so his nose can cross over your cleavage, softly caressing the spanse of your collarbones.

“If you keep looking at me like that I’ll start thinking things, princess. Interesting things, physical things.” Iwaizumi lets his teeth close on the fabric covering your neckline as his eyes look up on yours to find every hint there can possibly be of your warm desire. “Seems like we’re reaching an agreement, too. Do like what you see, hm? Do you want me to do to you the same things I did with them?”

“No,” you tell him in a steady tone and Hajime’s eyes shoot up to yours, confused, until you sigh a breath against his face. “I want you to do more.”

He groans, pulling you tighter against his chest for you to feel the effect you have on him, choosing the momentum to circle his hips in what can be disguised as performance despite it being anything but.

“You can’t just tell a guy that. I may believe it.” His hands drop on your ass, gripping as he guides your hips to work with his and you all but melt, blown out eyes falling on his mouth.

“I’m hoping so. I’m pretty much using all my courage to tell you this.” Your breathless chuckle all but obliterates Hajime’s thinking and he has to put some distance between your faces before he takes your lips in a kiss.

There’s a ringing around his ears and he identifies it as the performance’s end approaching. He has to go back on stage to strip naked and his cock is going to give a show of his own tonight.

“Go wait for me in the corridor, quick.” It's a plea and a promise as he forces himself to let go of you and turn on his heels to get back on stage.

Oikawa gives him a hand up back onto the stage, eyes all knowing as they survey the whole big thing going on inside his briefs.

“Nasty, Iwachan~” His smile is a annoying little thing, but then he slaps Iwaizumi’s ass in encouragement, “Sneak off stage before the end, go, quick, I’ll cover.”

Iwaizumi grunts a thanks and as the boys line up one behind the other, he’s able to lock eyes with you and signal with his head before he dips through the backstage drapes.

You’re not sure what’s the plan when Hajime disappears through the back and your spine immediately shoots up, leaving your friends with a half-assed excuse as your legs carry you towards the corridor that leads to the backstage once you choose neither left or right, but only forward. Your eyes are focused, body overheating as your heart gallops in your chest, clinging to the words Iwaizumi whispered in your ears during his show as it repays again and again over your mind’s eye.

The door to the backstage is signaled with nothing, the only hint of its location being the in and out of men from it as their shows end and they leave the place to either mingle along the audience or enter a private room for privé little shows. Honestly, if it was for Hajime, you’d blow a hole in your wallet for every single second of his time.

However, as you’re closing in on the hidden door you start growing strikingly aware of the fact you have no idea how to actually meet him there and having to knock on it makes you feel both silly and self conscious.

Luckly, you don’t have to do anything.

Iwaizumi burst the door open in time to fetch you and drag you inside as you let out a little yelp, and suddenly you’re surrounded by the smell of weed, cigars and sweat along with men; Iwaizumi’s hot, sweety skin is sticky against yours and you have the fleeting thought that maybe that would be off putting to you if you didn't have the all consuming need to drop to your knees and lick it all from his fucking skin.

“Iwa,” leaves you lips for no reason, just for the fact it’s his name and you let your neck fall back against his shoulder, turning your head to finally taste his skin. Iwaizumi’s arms tighten around you in such a way you feel the rumble of his growl and he all but tow you deeper inside.

You can barely get a look around the dimly lit, dirty backstage room before you’re past the messy lounge and into a tight corridor that ends a small, locker-room styled bathroom where Hajime quickly dips inside.

You get one look at the metal lockers on the side, the two sinks with mirrors upfront and the four bathroom stalls on the left, two on each side before you focus back on Iwaizumi’s jawline, nibbling on whatever you can find and relishing on every little noise that tumbles from his lips.

Hajime’s arms leave you for one moment, depositing you on unsteady legs so he can turn the lock on the door and by then his hand is burying itself in your hair and closing at your hip, forcefully pulling you to him as his mouth closes around your neck and he proceeds to kiss, bite and suck at every spanse of your skin.

“Fuck, I didn’t want to do this here,” Iwaizumi starts with a gruff voice that makes your center weep, the force of his hands around you enough to render your feet useless as he strides over to the sink, imediatelly hiking you over it with his big hands over your ass and a hard bite at your shoulder as if he’s pinging you as the culprit of his angish. “But I can’t fucking wait anymore.”

He sounds so pained, so raw, that you can’t help but groan, mouth searching his quickly as your hands reach for his hair and shoulder, nails digging on whatever you find to secure your hold on his slippery skin. He tastes of whisky and weed, but it’s the fact that it’s Hajime that renders you intoxicated.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he admits as his teeth nibble on your bottom lip, a trail of kisses making their way down so he can bite at your neck, licking it over just so he can suck on it, your eyes rolling back inside your head as your body all but trembles. “I was sure you weren’t interested, fuck.”

That is probably the one thing that could pull you from the haze settling in your brain caused by the fucking thrill that having Hajime kissing and holding you is enough to cause.

“Are you insane?” You whine back at him, tilting your head away from his mouth as your fingers pull at his hair to look him in the eyes. Those beautiful, heated and earnest florest-green eyes that have been your demise since day one. “Iwa, there hasn't been a day I wasn’t interested.”

There’s an edge of surprise on his face, along with a hint of something soft you can’t name and you all but moan at him, unable to form words of just how much you’ve wanted him and for how long. So you choose to show him, instead, legs circling his frame as you press your chest against his and hold his neck with both hands to pull him in a kiss that leaves you lightheaded, toes curling on your heels and heat burning through your veins, melting your insides until it spills on your underwear.

A rumble in his chest tells you about the groan he keeps inside and Iwaizumi’s hands take hold of the flesh of your ass and thighs with bruising strength, violent heartbeats making both of your bodies tremble with need. But then he angles himself back, breaks the kiss and curses after one look at your face.

Next thing you know Iwaizumi’s down on his knees between your thighs, holding you open with big hands under your knees and your brain just ups and fries. Your panties are sticking to your drenched folds and there’s no way the flimsy triangle is able to do much to hide you from Hajime’s attentive eyes. He groans, fingers dipping under the sides of your underwear and he pulls it to the side, baring you the best he can.

He doesn’t really say anything past throwing you a burning look, kissing up the inner part of your thighs, and then he’s mouth is on you - tongue lavishing at both sex and fabric, circling your clit with wondrous expertise and licking along your inner lips like they’re about to spill all your secrets.

“Fuck,” slips from you as your head arches back, hitting the wall. “Iwaizumi...”

Whispered from you that way, his name is the only thing that conveys all of the feelings bubbling on your chest: the glee of the mutual crush, the excitement of being this close, the massive bliss igniting your nerves at his ministrations. If the way Hajime doubles down on his efforts between your legs is any indication - tongue slipping up and down then back up to circle your clit mercilessly - you’d say he agrees.

You feel suspended in time, tense as a tight coil that’ll tear with a single harsh pull. His tongue dances around your cunt as much as he did on stage: perfectly. Deliriously bringing you to a high you’ve aren’t sure you’ve ever tasted. And then he brings his fingers to calmly, slowly massage around your entrance.

“Oh fucking christ!” Your burning moan bounces around the empty space loudly and you swear you feel him snickering against your cunt, only you’re way far gone to care. “Haji-fuck!”

Your hand slides over his hair, fingers delighted at how soft they feel and you use your palm to press his face further against your folds. Your hips humping anything they can because staying still feels like an impossible task with the way your blood is boiling inside your veins.

But then someone is pounding at the door loudly and your eyes snap open as your high slips from you, Iwaizumi’s lips abandoning your sex to throw a nasty glare at the door.

“C’mon Iwa-chan~” someone calls outside, sounding unbelievably pleased at the interruption. “You know the rules! We need to use the bathroom~”

“Two minutes!” Iwa snarl back and as the pounding on the door doesn’t come back, you think he got himself a deal. “Fucking assholes. Can’t give me one fucking moment when they’re the ones always doing this shit.”

He sounds so pissed it’s actually awfully endearing. Red in the face with swollen lips glistening in a pout, and despite the throbbing on your cunt, you can’t help but laugh. His eyes come back to you and a renewed wave of pleasure curls on your pussy by the clear shift into softness you find there, so you pull him back up standing and make a point of kissing him so hard you’re licking your juices from his chin.

Two minutes apparently go by awfully fast, as the door is nudged once again. Softly, this time.

“Fuckers,” Iwa mutters after he breaks the kiss, eyes as daggers aimed at whoever is outside the door. “Give me ten minutes and meet me outside?” You realize by the tone of his voice that Iwaizumi is nervous and your heart does a sickening loop inside your chest as if you needed a heads up of how much you’re gone for him. Your face must do something weird, as his eyes scrunch up and his hands grip on your hips with a tiny bit of strength, pleading. “I just need to change and get my stuff, I’ll be real quick, promise.”

Jesus Christ, didn’t he get it yet?

“Iwaizumi,” His name sounds gruff past your breathless throat and you see the way his eyes turn steely, bracing for heartbreak. “You could tell me to wait forever, and I’d be dying outside waiting for you.”

You make a point of holding his eyes because it feels like it’s important and you’re thankful for that as you can watch the exact moment Iwaizumi lets a long breath out, eyes warming as his lips descend upon yours - one time, then once again; his fingers drawing soft little patterns over your skin.

“I’ll be outside,” you tell him before someone disturbs the moment between you two and he helps you down the sink, your panties choosing this moment to slide to the floor, showing the fact that all that pulling ended up causing a rip. You choke up a gasp and Iwa chuckles, hand sliding to your bare ass to pat at the plush flesh.

“Well, one less thing in the way.”

Getting out of the bathroom and outside the backroom ends up being the most embarrassing thing about it all, as you’re forced to pass through a horde of almost-naked men that throw you all-knowing grins. The pretty man that welcomed you into the Club is the one with the wickedest grin and you can see by Iwaizumi’s grimace alone that he’s in for a hell of teasing.

If the hand gripping your hip is anything to go by, you’d doubt he’s paying it half a mind. He leaves you at the door, tells the ones around there to shut it as they watch, and breathlessly promises you he’ll come in a bit before closing the door.

Even so you can still hear the immediate hollering going on inside and you chuckle for a moment, until you try to take a step and your legs betray you, shaken. There’s a smile etched to your face that you can barely contain until you’re painfully remembered of the fact you’re dripping between your thighs. That’s all you need for your heart to beat on your face, burning so bright you’re surprised you haven’t melted to the floor.

You’re breathless and antsy as you wait for Iwaizumi to come back, the club visibly emptier after the final performance. Your friends have left already, only waiting around until you came to pick up your purse, all of them tired and drunk and leaving in group after calling enough ubers and making sure you were fine.

And not without teasing, of course.

God, you were more than fine. But you’re throbbing, uncomfortable wet and empty, increasingly aware of the fact you’re standing there pantiless as the horny fog dissipates a bit in the absence of one Iwaizumi Hajime to end your logic thinking.

You get antsy of waiting around in the bar despite the bartender trying to make nice small-talk and instead trudges over to the corridor, standing there awkwardly fidgeting as if he’s taking hours and not literally a few minutes.

The door opens with an urge and Hajime’s eyes zoom in on you, long strides that only serve to make your body once again acutely aware of it’s poor state, arousal spiking to the point where you press your legs together to help with the feeling.

But then he’s reaching for you before he’s even really close, and you’re quickly running to him and latching your lips together with urgency. Now that you can kiss him it feels like there’s no point in any other greeting that doesn’t involve his mouth on yours.

His hair is dripping wet with a recent, clearly quick shower and he’s wearing the same clothes you’re used to see him with day by day and, somehow, that just makes it all worse, a literal groan passing your lips as you reach once again for his lips but this time Iwaizumi stops you with a groan, turning you in his arms so both of you can eagerly trudge out of the Club.

Hajime tries to be mindful of you as he shortens his long strides to be able to accompany yours. You’re balancing yourself to run on heels, laugh bubbling out of your chest at the exhilarating feeling of glee of a mutual crush. Iwaizumi throws you one amused look, sharp smile turning teasing as his hands come to circle your waist, hoist you up and hurry the remaining distance to his car.

“Too slow!” Iwaizumi teases with a grunt and chuckles against your neck, big toothy smile against your skin. “Hurry up!”

“Someone’s eager,” you tease but he’s already rounding his car, pressing you on the side to attach his lips to your neck, soft bites and circling hips that show you just how much that sentence is true.

One of his hands surrounds your neck and his thumb tilts your head up enough for his lips to capture yours, a soft kiss contrasting with the need in his grasp on your hips.

“I think we’ve waited too long.”

“Yeah? Who’s fault is that, dumbass?” You nibble on his lips and grind your hips on the impressive burning length that presses on your belly. Iwaizumi chuckles, biting on your neck as his hand slides past your hip to close on your ass.

“Yours.”

Your outraged gasp is lost on his lips, passionate kiss blowing your rational thinking with a nuke. Would you ever recover from Iwaizumi Hajime? God, you don’t think so.

You pull him closer, pressing your chest against him, pressure building once again as your nipples stand to attention. Your leg rakes up on his side as if you’re not on the middle of the street and Iwaizumi lets his hand slide to the underside of your thigh; fingers dipping lower, digits gliding over your drenched slit once before he dips them carefully past the tight ring of your entrance. It’s barely anything, but your mind short-circuits, head falling back against the car.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” Iwaizumi sounds anguished, teeth punishing his lips as his eyes bore on yours. His fingers slide deeper inside you and your mouth opens in a silent moan. “I can’t wait to be inside this pussy.”

That ends you, pussy clenching so hard around his barely there fingers it’s painful to feel the remaining emptiness. You puff a hot breath of air on his face, eyes dazed and blood boiling as you tense and throb.

“Iwa,” Your nails press on his skin so hard your own hand hurts, “if you keep doing this we’ll be doing it in the street.”

Something burns in him, as he presses his fingers deeper inside you to watch your eyes fall close and then pulls them all out, quickly opening the door.

“Get in.”

You obey, having half a mind to wonder if it’s really happening until he’s closing the door and circling the vehicle. “Iwa!” You plead, as somehow it feels like abandonment, your whole being hurting and boiling, a whine in your lips as Hajime slides in the driver's seat and turns the car on, driving it out the curb and down the street as a madman.

“We’re doing this right,” Hajime tells you as he drives, drinking your panting form from the corner of his eyes. His jeans are tight, hint of what awaits you forming a very clear pattern and you feel overheated, frenzied, throbbing with need. So as it turns out, you’re far past the point to care.

You adjust yourself in the seat, legs spreading to allow your hand to reach the appex of your sex as the other closes on a clothed breast. “Iwa,” you sigh in bliss as the pressure finally seems to give in just that one tiny bit. His eyes shoot to you and fall comically large at the view, turning hazed in sequence as his cheeks color red.

“God, baby, don’t do this to me,” Iwaizumi grunts, hand adjusting his cock through the jeans as his eyes try to flit between you and the fairly empty streets.

“I’m not doing anything to you though, I’m doing it to me.” You moan and the car loses balance for a second, sliding to the side and back as you laugh.

“You’re a fucking menace.”

“Try not to kill us, Iwa.” Is all you answer, moan slipping out at the way you let your fingers alleviate the pressure at your clenching center. Iwaizumi looks as if he’s in pain. One of his hands shoots down to hold on your left thigh, bruising strength delicious.

“You wanna play dirty, huh? That’s what you want?” The tinge of aggression in his voice makes your pussy throb around your fingers and for a moment it feels like he knows. “I can play dirty, baby. I can either make you cum like a good girl or let you hang the whole night like a brat, so what do you want?”

Your voice is nowhere to be found and your eyes are locked on Hajime as if he’s the one who hung the moon and stars. He even has the gal to smirk.

“I can be so good, baby, but I’m even better at being bad.”

You skyrocket shamelessly into a little bout of pleasure, a short-lived thing resembling a climax that’s caused by the whiplash of Hajime’s dominance and the pressure bursting inside you as you abuse your own fingers' expertise.

You tremble on his side, head thrown back with a moan of his name and Hajime curses loudly, hand at your thigh awkwardly reaching your slit to slide over it and push two fingers inside, catching the last of your short-lived climax. His face turns solemn, eyes darkening with hunger as a vein rises in his jaw and a renewed wave of wetness stains his digits.

Those forest-green eyes settle on you as he speeds down the empty street. “I’m going to end you,” Iwaizumi presses deeper and you arch your body, legs falling wider for him as fingers you effortlessly, driving and stretching you on thick digits that make you gasp on your own breath.

“This is how it’s going to be.” Hajime starts, voice rough and hot. “Once we’re out of this car and private enough, I’m burying myself inside this pretty pussy in one go.” Your whole breath leaves you in one quick breath, eyes falling open as Hajime’s thumb rounds your clit and a third finger starts pushing inside your walls, burning stretch making you delirious as his words take you apart, one by one.

“Then, I’m fucking you the whole night until you cant even think about a time where I wasn't inside you,” his fingers curve inside your walls, calling motion and upwards thrust that makes your pleasure sparks through your whole body, one hand closing around his wrist as the other locks on a breast. “Until you feel empty without me inside.”

He pulls his hand back as you all but sob, eyes literally welling with tears at the loss of your quickly rising bliss but one look at Hajime has you sobering up, his focused eyes on the street as he hurries down the rest of the way.

As it ends up, Iwaizumi stays true to his words.

He presses you up against the door of his apartment while you two are still on the corridor, brings his hands to your thighs and hikes you up against the door, your dress sliding way past your ass as your bare, throbbing pussy glides over his clothed length. Your whole skin feels like a live-wire, hypersensitive and vibrating.

Hajime’s mouth is closed in a bite on your shoulder as he uses his abilities to open his door without interfering with the sinful way you roll your center against his big cock, needy and lost, pleading for him to just fuck you.

When it clicks open, both his hands fly to your ass as he pushes past the door and close it with a bang as he presses you against it. His mouth is back on yours, tongue invading your lips with a groan and hand flying to tear his jeans open and down just enough for his big, hard cock spring free.

"Yes!" You break the kiss to cry at the first touch of his weeping, hot cock against your cunt, the sheer amount of wetness making it slide from your hole to your clit and then down again.

Hajime sucks a breath to still himself, slowly angles his hips back and let the thick head slide to your entrance with perfect precision, slamming himself half the way inside with one powerful thrust that have his head falling on your shoulder with a blissful groan, your cries of agreement thrown around the air above as you angle your head back.

Your walls fall open for him brutally, soaking wet and ready but still struggling against the stretch. It burns, his fat cock pulsing inside you and as you clench around his girth you realize he's not even all the way inside.

"Oh my god," you breathe out and Iwa sighs, fist slamming on the side of the door as he braces himself and rolls his hips, pushing steadily, sheathing his cock inside you slowly. You choke on a breath, suddenly silent, legs kicking out without your brain to rein on it.

"Jesus," Iwa grunts as he bottoms out, his legs trembling from the effort of holding himself back, mind stumbling as every single cell in his body seems overwhelmed by the feeling of reaching paradise. “You feel like heaven.”

Hajime tells you mostly because he wants to feel you clench around him and you do, his heart soaring with the delicious high of knowing exactly what makes you tick; but the throbbing of his cock reminds him just how long he’s been forgotten and Iwaizumi adjusts his stance, locks his arms around you and simply mutters, “Now, to fucking you the whole night.”

You skyrocket quicker than ever, few presses and pulls igniting a supernova bliss in your veins, tongue useless as it feels alien in your mouth, brain short-circuiting at his thrusts. You’ve never felt like this and you’re pretty sure you’ll never would, not without Hajime.

You’re so lost you don’t even realize he moves you from the door to the wall, Hajime’s hands grabbing a handful of your hair to pull you to a blistering kiss, the trimmed hair at the base of his cock doing wonders against your clit every time he bottoms out, nestled inside a place you never even felt before.

You’re so oversensitive, wound up and tense as your pussy holds him as a vice, grunts falling from his lips that make you skin all but burn at the delicious praise.

As you squeeze “Hajime” past your mouth in a painful breath, frenzied eyes searching for his, he soothes you with kisses all over your face.

“Go ahead, baby.” He tells you with his lips against your skin, “I got you.”

You explode.

There’s no other way to explain the way your pleasure blows you over, sharpshooter through your veins and short-circuits your brain. It feels like being caught in an ocean wave, unable to swim as it carries you underwater and the tides hold you down, unending twirls that assault you through every side until you’re finally reaching shore, rising above to suck a deep breath.

Hajime is peppering your face with kisses as you settle back inside your skin, blinking hazy eyes to his perfect face with a ridiculous smile that must show just how fucking much you’re smitten. But there’s an edge of something painful on his face.

“Wow.” You breathe and his cock responds inside you with a nod of agreement.

Hajime chuckles, plants a big kiss on your wet lips and tries to smile despite the strain on his face as he calls your name. “I’m going to fuck you now.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” you smile dumbly at him, loose and fuzzy around the edges. “Go ahead. Not sure I’ll be of much use, I think I just had a outer body experience.”

“Hmmm,” Hajime smirks, tight around the edges with his throbbing cock buried in your pulsing heat. as he seems pensive “No can’t do, baby.” He rolls his hips for a moment, lecherous noise echoing around the silent flat, then decides to bring you across the short distance to his couch, letting his ass fall on it graceless, cock pressing deeper with the movement. He drinks the little gasp straight from your lips.

“I think I’ve earned my turn to sit back and relax.” Hajime smiles, predatory, hungry and you decide you just may love him like this. “So why don’t you do us both a favor and ride it?”

#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime smut #iwaizumi smut #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu smut #thesmutpilecollab #cw exhibitionism

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