#so I can be revolted and in disgust towards them

[mrsshabana]

♡ 𝑮𝒚𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒐 𝒙 𝑩𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍!𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔 ♡

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ 𝟓𝟎𝟎 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

CW: NSFW, 18+ MDNI, female reader, blood, gore, manipulation, smut, creampie, violence

AN: Thank you all so much for 500 followers!! I can't believe that this happened so quickly, it was only a month ago that I made my 300 follower special! I want to thank everyone who took the time to support me this far. And I'd also like to welcome everyone that is new here! There will be lots more Gyutaro content to come ~ ♡

Gyutaro doesn’t understand his romantic feelings towards you. He expresses them in ways that are difficult for you to decipher. So he just acts on impulse. Usually having no filter or boundaries.

Treats you like a toy. Similar to how a vindictive child would treat a small puppy.

He’ll make you cry just so he can be the one to comfort you in the end.

As a demon, he thinks he’s superior to you in every way. The only thing you have going for you is your pretty face and beautiful body.

He’ll coo and hold you close, complimenting your beauty only to claw at you flesh. Leaving wounds and bruises on your most beautiful features. He wants to destroy your beauty out of envy, but yet it’s what attracts him to you.

Before him, your life was meaningless. So now that he’s here, you don’t exist outside of him. Without him you are nothing. Which is why he keeps you stored in his sister’s obi whenever he’s away. Sometimes leaving you for days before he wants to play with you again.

Gyutaro grew a soft spot for you because of your juxtaposition. You don’t show disgust towards things that most people consider revolting, like reptiles or people that look different from you, but yet you are the most beautiful human he’s ever seen.

Every time Gyutaro thinks of your beauty, he claws deep red wounds into his flesh, fantasizing about gutting you alive, slitting your throat while digging his hands through your intestines. But the way that you look at him prevents him from doing so. You look at him with fear in your eyes, but without a hint of disgust. After 100 years of hunting humans, Gyutaro knows the difference.

It infuriates him that he can’t bring himself to hate you for your beauty. This frustration is always taken out on you. In the form of cuts and bruises.

But after being held captive for so long, you’ve learned how to behave around him. And things do get better. 

Gyutaro is incredibly intelligent, he just doesn’t understand emotions. Especially ones that he never even got to experience as a human, let alone a demon.

He can read you like a book. Always aware of when you are plotting an escape attempt or when you are lying to him. You learn quickly that there’s no point in trying to fool him.

The thing is, eventually you have grown a soft spot for the demon. The few moments that he is vulnerable with you, have shown you a beauty that you thought impossible for a creature such as himself.

After an argument with his sister, he’ll show you a side of him that you’ve never seen before. The sadness and deep anguish that he holds within himself. No one deserves to have such pains. Even a man-eating demon like Gyutaro.

You want to comfort him and heal his wounds.

As a demon, Gyutaro doesn’t have much sexual desire. He feels no biological urge to reproduce. The only urge within him is to destroy and devour.

But when you’re around, that all changes. Something within him yearns for your touch, your love.

He’s seen humans have sex before, and even though he doesn’t quite understand it, he wants to try. It’s not uncommon for Gyutaro to witness humans having sex in the district. But now, everytime he sees such things, he imagines what it’d be like to do it with you. The tent forming in his pants isn’t anything he hasn’t seen before, but there’s an urgency behind it now. Whereas before he’d be able to ignore it. But now it seems to control his every thought. Blood and carnage replaced by thoughts of your fragile body lying beneath his.

Gyutaro isn’t embarrassed about his desire to have sex with you. He will be completely open and up front with you about it, because he’s been surrounded by sex his entire life. So to him it’s just a normal thing that humans do. He doesn’t understand the social norms/stigmas surrounding sex.

During your first time having sex, it will be the first time that he’s careful with you. 

Once he is accustomed to having sex with you, he will start being more rough. Pulling your hair, biting your neck, and thrusting his hips into you so hard that you bruise.

He’s touch starved, so it makes sense that he gets overwhelmed by the pleasure of having sex with you. He loses himself in you. Fucking you like his life depends on it, moaning and groaning with every thrust.

Even after he fills you up with his cum, he won’t stop. 

He keeps going until he can see that you are exhausted. He may be selfish but he still cares about you. He doesn’t want to push you too far past your limit and risk breaking you.

Surprisingly he’s big on aftercare. Most of the time he’ll fuck you til your legs stop working, so he takes initiative in cleaning you up and tucking you into bed. He loves cuddling you and feeling you tremble in his arms from having orgasmed so many times.

Your sexual experiences with Gyutaro changes your relationship drastically. His feelings for you start to come through in less toxic ways as he begins to understand his feelings. But when he gets annoyed by them or they become too strong, he thinks that having sex will make it go away. When in reality they just make these potent emotions even stronger.

Showing affection towards him will usually calm him down. Once you are able to love him and he can accept your love, things get much easier for the both of you.

It will take lots of time, and the likelihood of surviving that long is slim. But if you do, it’ll be well worth it.

#gyutaro #gyutaro shabana #gyutaro x reader #gyutaro x y/n #gyutaro smut #kny smut #demon slayer smut #follower milestone

[bean-bean2000]

The Maid - Part 4

Pairing: Loki x reader (on going series)

Warnings: Angst, abuse, mental health (depression, mentions of suicidal thoughts), swearing, mentions of torture and rape.

Please read at your own risk. Your own media consumption is not my responsibility. Please read and review the warnings before proceeding.

Thank you and enjoy!

Series masterlist Main Masterlist

🧹🧹🧹

You don't see the king for a few days following your conversation in the kitchen, however, he specifically requested you be placed back as his personal maid exclusively and indefinitely.

You were surprised to have not seen the snake in a while, assuming he had taken some time off. However, once word got out that the king specifically requested you as his maid, the energy in the maid's quarters shifted negatively towards you.

The guards, albeit not the snake, continue to beat you every chance they got.

"You think you're special because the king requested you?" one asked as he hit your face.

"Is that why the snake is missing? What did you do to him? What did you say to the king?" he yells at you as he grabs the collar of your shirt and punches you once more. You can hear the bone of your eye socket lightly crack.

"We knew you're a witch. You cast a spell on him. That is the only reason he chose you. Admit it!" another yelled at you and kicked your side.

"Where is the snake?! Did you curse him you filthy witch?!"

"Maybe we have to burn her at the stake!" one shouts.

"Maybe, the king chose you because you're just a really good whore" followed by another slap.

"Shall we indulge in what the king is so intrigued with, hmmm?" they snicker as they approach you menacingly.

You're too weak to fight back as they tear off your night shirt.

Doubled over in pain, they notice the bandages around your torso.

"Oh, what is this? I heard the snake had you whipped. Who would want to fuck a whore with such ugly scars?" he spat at you.

"That's revolting. How could anybody ever want you. You're disgusting." another spat at you again.

Your eye is swollen, lip bleeding. They laugh as they walk away and leave you in agony, bleeding and barely conscious on the damp stone floor.

You cough as blood spills to the ground and you push yourself up to walk back to your cot.

Exhausted and in pain, you leave your bandages on, without airing out your wounds and cleaning them. You can feel that they ripped open again, blood spilling onto the bandages, soaking them once more.

You're too tired and broken to care.

You fall to your bed, laying on your stomach and pass out.

The next day you are scheduled to clean the kings office. You wake up and notice your cot is stained with blood, so you go to the common bathrooms to bathe. You turn around and notice your night shirt is also soaked in blood. You take it off but it sticks to your skin, and you observe your back. They bandages are soaking wet and the skin around looks yellow.

You're eye is purple and swollen, your lip is split so badly it hurts to speak.

Banner isn't here for another few days, you ran out of the balm, medicine and have no spare bandages. You decide its best to leave them as is, and simply wash the rest of your body with a cloth. You convince yourself that you can survive a few more days before his return.

You're slower than usual, your back pulsates in pain, unable to properly heal from the constant movement of your work and the never-ending abuse from the guards. You can feel yourself getting warmer and stickier everyday, sweating more than usual.

Walking to the kings wing proved to be extremely difficult in this state. Every movement cause pain to shoot through your body, crumpling you over and having you groan out loud. It takes you significantly longer to reach his office, for which you are scheduled to clean for the day.

Unfortunately, it is the one area of his quarters that requires the most stretching to get between shelves and corners. You sigh and grab your supplies.

Taking a deep breath you start to climb the ladder and stretch to clean the top shelf of the library. You hiss as you work, doing it as quickly as possible to minimize the pain.

Are the consequences of the king's disappointment in my subpar work better than sustaining the current pain I'm in?

You slowly walk down the ladder.

Taking deep breaths you focus on finishing the each task and distracting yourself from the pain. It has been long over 2 hours by now since you started cleaning. Clinging onto the library, you feel your head spinning, you're panting and sweating.

You place your head down against the shelf to steady yourself.

The door to the office opens with a loud click and you pause in fear. You hear shoes clicking on the tile, bracing yourself with fear that it is the snake or any other maid manager that has come to reprimand you for being so slow.

"P-Pardon my tardiness. I- I am aware of my sluggishness. I am unwell and f-finishing soon.'

You're shaking, you can't bring yourself to turn around and face who may be there. Suddenly, you feel yourself swaying, your vision gets blurry. You grab onto the shelf to steady yourself but your weakened state has you slipping. Somebody catches you and you scream out in pain from the pressure on your back. The last thing you hear before passing out is "What happened to you?".

🧹🧹🧹

You wake up, laying down on your stomach. You shiver at the cold and realize your back is exposed. Your heart starts beating erratically as you push yourself up in an attempt to flee.

"No! I'm sorry, please!" you scream as you try getting yourself up.

Your shoulders are pushed down roughly and your head is forced down to look at the ground. You being to sob and shake.

"No... please.... stop..." you whisper between sobs.

"Hold her down. This is going to hurt."

Your head snaps up at the familiar voice. "Banner?!"

He simply shushes you and tells the man holding you down to keep me still.

You hear some liquid sloshing out of a bottle and spilled onto a rag. The doctor approaches you and places it on your back, dabbing the flesh. You screech in pain.

"I know. I know. I'm sorry. It's severely infected. I have to clean it with alcohol. Be brave for me." Banner says to you as he continues cleaning your wounds.

You're screaming and crying out in pain until you can't anymore. Eyes sucked dry from tears and throat raw from screaming.

Suddenly you hear the door burst open.

"What is going on?!" he sees your wounds as you lay bare on the table.

"Norns, what happened?" he says in disbelief.

"I don't know. I went looking for her and found her in your study. When I approached she fainted and screamed when I caught her. That's when I noticed her back. Her entire attire was soaking in blood and sticking to her open wounds. I have to clean them, they're severely infected. She may die." Banner explains.

"Couldn't you have knocked her out first?!" he questions angrily.

You can't see who is speaking and you can't hear over the pulsing in your ears. You're mind is focused on the pain in your back that you don't notice him and Banner approach you. One more dab to your wounds and you pass out from the agony.

He curses and grabs the rag out of Banner's hands.

"Bring her to my chambers, carefully. Make sure nobody follows." He commands to the guards.

"I need to figure out what is happening within my castle's walls. This is not how I rule my palace and this is not how I will let the guards treat my staff." He turns on his heel and walks out.

Reaching his chambers, the guards gently place her on her stomach in his bed. He reaches his window and opens it, as his beloved pet flies to the ledge. The crow caws for greeting.

"Hello my pet. I have a job for you. Find out what is happening in the maid's quarters. I want names and details. You have never failed me, don't start now. Report to me by morning." The crow caws in response and flies away.

🧹🧹🧹

Tag list:

@gruftiela

@elegantcheesecakecrown

@chxco-hyujin

@cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson

@i-am-amora-the-enchantress

@cakesandtom

@dorck26

@buckitostan

#fanfic #marvel #loki x reader #loki #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #thor odinson #thor #angst #bucky barnes #captain america #natasha romanoff #tony stark #the maid #fanfic series #the maid - Part 4

[muddyorbsblr]

after hours visits

'one look and they'll know' collection masterlist See my full list of works here!

Placement: hours after 'a tale of ice baths and hot sauce'

Summary: An unwelcome visitor knocks at the door of Tom's hotel room while you two were trying to enjoy your evening together

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: 18+ | smuttish steamy moments (minors & pearl clutchers please exit the chat…like right now); coitus interruptus; language; insecure reader moment towards the end; mentions of cheating (not Tom, our precious meow meow would never); Brynne (yeah she's a warning now) [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: established relationship

"I think we should break the facade," Tom exhaled softly, his breathing already evened out while he held you to his naked body in a blissful post-coital haze, fingers aimlessly stroking your hair. "There were far too many comments today that had me fuming, it physically hurt me to hold back my tongue. Those immature, disrespectful--" He let out a sigh, chest muscles tensing under your touch telling you he was getting worked up over just the memory of how you were undoubtedly the topic of immature locker room chatter. What with your flowy little outfit earlier today and the hickeys your boyfriend so generously placed throughout your neck last night and early this morning.

"I'll make a note to cover up a little more tomorrow," you murmured, absentmindedly tracing the curls of his chest hairs with your fingertips, silently stewing in your own irrational jealous annoyance because of the comments so carelessly thrown his way. "Sorry, sweetie."

"Why are you apologizing for their disrespect, goddess?"

"Force of habit," you sighed. "And I know it gets to you that these guys are just flat out disgusting because they think they can be, so if I can ease that a bit I can just--"

"I don't want you to prioritize anyone's comfort but your own, and they'll make those comments even if you're wearing sweats. What ticked me off wasn't that your clothes made them let out those revolting comments, but that they said those things and I couldn't say anything to get them to stop. That the subject of their sexual daydreams was already unavailable because--"

"Because I'm yours," you finished for him, placing a soft kiss on the mark on his shoulder from your wakeup call shenanigans this morning that became quite prominent. "And that same subject of their stupid little daydreams gave you that."

He tilted your chin upwards, pressing his lips to yours and letting out a sound of contentment when you let him deepen the kiss and his tongue began to gently tangle with yours. "Yes you did, sweetheart," he mumbled against your lips, stealing another kiss as he wrapped his free arm around you to pull you on top of him, pressing your chests together. "I didn't like having to bite my tongue when they were being so vile about you, talking about how you were probably a hellcat followed by bitter retorts of you probably being a lousy lay. They shouldn't be so bold to talk about you. They're unworthy to even be saying your name let alone thinking such lewd thoughts that should only be mine."

"Then tell them exactly that," you told him, kissing along his jawline until you felt the tension in him start to subside. "We said we would keep things private, not secret. And if our privacy comes at a price that one of us isn't willing to pay anymore, then we start making it…less private." You began to smirk against his skin when you heard the most minute whimpers once you started kissing his neck. "Besides, just because we're not super quiet about it doesn't mean we're suddenly gonna start fucking in the middle of the field because I for one do not want to have to wash the grass off of me," you finished with a little giggle, letting out a squeal when his hands grasped your waist and began to maneuver you again, sliding you easily down his body until your hips were nearly aligned with his.

"Sometimes I'm convinced there's still sand on me from Ibiza," he chuckled, playfully nipping at your shoulder when you started laughing along. The memory played in your head so vividly of the day you made a mental note that while 'sex on the beach' made for a naughty bucket list item and the occasional indulgent drink, it wasn't meant to be more than that.

"Impossible," you murmured, letting out a soft moan when your lips met his again in a delicate kiss. "We've checked. More than twice. It's been years." You both laughed into your kiss, the sound quickly turning into breathy moans when you felt him lining himself up at your entrance. "Again?" you asked him breathlessly, fighting back the urge to make a quip about his stamina knowing full well that if you did, you'd be feeling the consequences of that comment until well after the match was done on Sunday.

"You should know by now that I'm nowhere near finished with you for--"

Knock knock knock

"What in the world--We didn't order anything!" Tom called out toward the direction of the door, the lust quickly returning to his expression as if you two were never interrupted to begin with when he turned back to face you, his hands moving your hips so that they started rolling against his and making you delirious for him again. "Now, before we were so rudely interrupted--"

Knock knock knock

"Fucking dammit," you hissed out, your voice dropping an octave into your more 'boss lady domineering' tone and making you feel the tip of his length twitching against you in response. "Really?"

"You know the effect you have on me, goddess. After all this time are you honestly surprised?" he quipped back, nipping at your skin again as he started to move you again, only this time it was on to your side of the bed. No doubt so he could make himself somewhat decent and address whoever was on the other side of the door.

That was until you heard the person in question speak.

"Mr. Hiddleston? It's uhm…I'm from staff and I was wondering if you needed anything from me—I mean us before we all locked up for the night?"

"Fucking hell, it's Brynne," you spat out, the dislike even more pronounced when you said her name. "The fuck is she doing here?"

"And does committee staff really go door to door asking if players need anything or…?" he trailed off, hand immediately wrapping around yours when you sat up from the bed, your shoulders squared as if you were readying yourself for a face off.

"We had no more duties for the night. And I was the one that locked up. Hours ago." Your blood began to boil when her words from this morning about 'shooting her shot' came barreling back to you. "This bitch is here to try her chances with you. Again," you seethed, the gesture of his thumb stroking the back of your hand doing nothing to soothe you.

"Answer the door, then, my love."

His words broke through your raging thoughts, your gaze finding his like you were looking for confirmation that you understood exactly what he was saying. "You're sure?"

He brought your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles as he kept your gaze with those unfairly beautiful eyes like there was a star that paid rent just behind them. "You're clearly distressed with how brazen she's become. Don't get me wrong, I adore how insatiable we get when either of us becomes a touch possessive." He scooted a bit closer to you, eyebrows scrunching together in a second's irritation when Brynne started talking again outside, wrapping his arm around you and pressing a line of delicate kisses from your shoulder across your collarbone. "But your prolonged discomfort is too high a price to pay for our privacy. I refuse to endure you paying it for the rest of this week."

"You're sure you want this?" you choked out, whimpering against his lips when he sought yours out. You mentally smacked yourself for even asking it. You knew exactly where he stood when it came to your relationship. His words from a few years ago echoed tauntingly in your head.

I know you're not ready yet, but I want you to know that I am. I've always been.

"Completely," he murmured against your lips, pressing one last kiss before stepping off the bed and starting to make his way to the closet. "I'll get you a robe--What are you up to, sweetheart?"

He began to smirk as you shook your head, standing from the bed yourself and walking over to his discarded jersey on the floor. "Yeah, no…fuck that. If we're painting a picture, I'm making sure she doesn't have any room for misinterpretation," you told him with a cheeky little wink as you slipped the jersey over your head, indulging yourself of the view of your boyfriend walking into the bathroom without a stitch of clothing on him before you answered the door to a visibly irritated and bewildered Brynne.

"Mister Hi--Oh, Y/N. I'm so sorry, I must've gotten the wrong room." She plastered on a wide smile as her gaze nearly felt like nails on a board the second she clocked Tom's jersey looking like an oversized t-shirt dress on you.

"Well hey Brynne," you greeted her with an equally fake wide smile, taking note of the lacy navy blue silk camisole and shorts she was wearing. "You look all dolled up. Are you looking for someone?"

She started to pull at the hem of her shorts, suddenly seemingly self-conscious at how scantily dressed she really was. "Uhh…yeah. I could've sworn this was Player 6's room, but I must've remembered wrong do you rem--"

"No no, you're in the right place," you answered simply, practically seeing the gears turning in her head as she put the bigger picture together. Come on you're so close. Figure it out and get the fuck out of here, you sneered in your head.

Her expression quickly became haughty, looking like a kid that just caught their classmate stealing the answer key to a major test. "And what exactly would your boyfriend have to say about you being here? Wearing Hiddleston's jersey and probably nothing else? Or maybe…he's on your list and now your boyfriend that you claimed earlier today you were so happy and in love with is back in your room trying to pretend that he's okay with--"

Maybe not close enough. "Wow, your brain must be extra smooth," you scoffed, cutting her off again. "You really wanna know what my boyfriend would think? Why don't we go ask him." You turned away from her to call out in the direction of the bathroom. "Hey sweetie, you know I'm wearing your jersey, right?"

"Hold on, he's--"

Tom's answer, echoed by the bathroom tiles, stopped her words short. "Yes and it's an outright crime that you're not letting me see you wearing my jersey. So if you could please do away with our visitor, that would be great, my love."

You turned back to face your visitor who was now visibly seething at you, her face contorted into an expression of pure indignation. "You can go now," you told her as calmly as you could manage, clearing your throat and letting your voice drop an octave lower before you continued. "There's nothing you could offer him that he couldn't get from me."

The second she stepped back from the doorway, you closed the door on her, not even giving her a chance to let out a snarky comment in return. That didn't stop her from yelling out in the hallway, however. "He'll get tired of you! You don't deserve him, you snobby little bitch!"

Much as you tried to let the words just roll off your back like you'd done for the better part of the last decade, on nights like this they still stung. They still got to you. Just thinking about how easy it was before to have a relationship slip through your fingers over someone just like Brynne that so audaciously made her way to your then boyfriend's hotel room while he was on a business trip.

The half-hour sobbing phone call where he managed to blubber up a guilt trip of how you shouldn't "just throw away a year long relationship over something that meant nothing".

"You think I don't know that?" you mumbled, deadpanned, trying to block out her sardonic yelling muffled by the door.

You'd gotten so lost in your unwelcome trip down memory lane to your time before Tom that you didn't hear your boyfriend's footsteps padding toward you until his hands gently grasped your shoulders, coaxing you to turn and face him.

"It seems she refuses to receive the message that she's not welcome," he commented, looking intently at your expression and gauging where your thoughts were. "Y/N?" When he called your name, you tried to shake all the haunting memories from your head, giving him a bright smile. "Don't do that, sweetheart. Don't wear your mask around me." He shook his head at you, framing your face with his hands before kissing your fake smile away.

"I can't not hear her," you admitted. You could actually feel your ears straining from your efforts to block out her bitterness from the other side of the door.

The feel of Tom pressing tender kisses to your temple had you letting out the breath you realized you were holding, feeling as if he was lifting away a weight at your chest. "Just focus on me, goddess. Her words mean nothing to us." He kissed his way down to your lips, murmuring against your skin, "If she insists on trying to make us listen to her childish remarks, then it's only right for us to return the favor."

He wrapped his arm around your waist to pull you flush against him, holding you steady when your knees went weak as he licked into your mouth. You felt his smirk when you let out a muffled moan from him tracing along the roof of your mouth. You could barely gasp out any words when he pulled away. "What--"

"If she won't leave then she'll simply have to stay out there and hear us." He moved you until you felt your back against the door, his fingers skimming the sides of your body over his shirt. "Hear how much I love you…" He pressed a trail of soft kisses down the side of your face and along your jawline, just like you had minutes earlier. "How devoted I am to you…"

He proceeded to suck another bruise into a spot behind your ear, nipping at your skin when you let out an indecent moan that you were sure was heard by your neighboring rooms. You vaguely wondered if it was loud enough that you two were practically goading someone to call security with a noise complaint against you, but as you felt Tom's lips latch on to the base of your throat and proceed to give it the same treatment, you realized that you honestly couldn't bring yourself to care that much.

"And most importantly," he mumbled as he kissed at a spot above your heart, wrapping his arms around you in a gentle yet firm embrace. "How no matter how hard anyone tries, there is no one that will ever succeed in taking me from you." He pressed his forehead to yours, brushing his nose across yours. "My body, my heart, they're yours, goddess. They've always been."

All the words you had stopped in a lump at the back of your throat. The only thing you could do was throw your arms around his neck and pull him into a kiss that you tried to pour your heart into. Words were never your forte. "I love you," you breathed out, letting out a little squeal when you felt his hands grasp the backs of your thighs to lift you into his arms and make you wrap your legs around him.

"And I love you." His lips never left yours as he leveraged you against the door, grinding his hips against yours while he slowly lifted the hem of his jersey up to your stomach, only pulling away when he playfully swatted your hands away when you made a motion to take the garment off. "No no, sweetheart. You know how I adore you in my clothes. The jersey stays on."

A/N: Aight it took me a while and honestly I've been on a slump the last few weeks but it's here and I hope y'all are still enjoying where I"m taking the story because…there's a reason I've turned this into an entire collection and lemme just tell you all right now: There's more coming from this couple 🥹🥹

Not right now though because I'm working on 'relinquish the crown' next. 😅🫡

everything taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @gigglingtiggerv2

#tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x female reader #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston imagine #muddyorbs writes

[inkykeiji]

just a lil daydream i had while on a run a few days ago and i absolutely had to write a lil something for it ehehe

character: akutagawa ryuunosuke x fem!reader warnings: messy kisses, blood, aku is mean a lil virgin with a big crush, mention of mori, size difference, no explicit smut but still 18+ only please! words: 2.2k

It’s loud, too loud, so loud the walls seem to be breathing with the bass line, pulsing in time with the steadily building beat, amplified by the strobing neon lights, and it’s making Akutagawa’s head hurt. 

He can’t stand events such as these. He doesn’t want to be here—fucking despises noisy spaces and rowdy crowds—and if it were entirely up to him he wouldn’t be, but as it turns out, it isn’t, and he has a duty to fulfill. 

Because some grand deal has just been sealed, something monumental for the Mafia, something that calls for celebration, and Mori has ‘requested’ the presence of several high ranking members to join him at one of the clubs he owns in commemoration. 

Akutagawa doesn’t really know many of the details pertaining to the negotiation, most of the more intimate specifics kept private for obvious reasons, but he supposes it doesn’t matter either way; Mori never really needs an excuse to throw a party.

And what Mori wants, Mori gets. Always.

So he’s here, like the good boy he is, because he never disobeys a direct order from a superior no matter how badly he wishes to; he was raised by his master to be respectful, after all.

Doesn’t mean he has to enjoy it, though. 

Stuffed in a dark corner and shrouded in shadows, Akutagawa glowers at the mass of bodies on the dance floor, features screwed up in a disgusted scowl. It’s hard to believe anyone considers this a good time, that anyone could have fun in such a sweaty, stifling environment, that anyone actually likes being packed onto a grimy dance floor like overstuffed sardines as the bass rattles your teeth and ruptures your ears.

It’s entirely barbaric, as far as he’s concerned. 

He’s so absorbed in his own loathing rumination that he doesn’t see you until you’re wedging yourself past a wall of gyrating bodies, spit out from the crowd like a spare tooth, skin dewy with exhilaration and chest heaving with breathless amusement. 

God, you’re beautiful; so beautiful it’s almost revolting, so beautiful it makes his stomach churn, acid burning as it bubbles up his throat.

Your eyes sweep across his corner once, gliding over his hunched form before snapping back to his face, your gazes connecting. 

Sharp bolts sear through his gut, a cliche kick of electricity that ripples his flesh and spikes his blood, that zips up the notches of his spine and forces each vertebra into submission, snapping them back into a straight, rigid line.

Before he can even make sense of it at all, you’re marching toward him, mischievous determination hard on your face. Before he can even ask you what the fuck is going on, your hands are wrapping around his arms and tugging them free from his body.

Your touch shocks him, another irritating jolt coursing through his body, blood cracking with electric currents, buzzing through his veins and shot straight to his brain, short-circuiting his synapses. 

Everything has gone numb, his limbs languid, his senses dulled to everything but you as your delicate fingers flex around his slim wrists, rendering it exceptionally easy to string him along back toward the crowd, his own feet dumbly obeying your motions irregardless of the fact that he’s desperately telling them not to. 

“Wh-What are you doing?” 

And he hates the way his voice trembles, words fractured by the nerves, his question coming out weak and needy instead of firm and authoritative, like it should. 

If you notice his incompetence, you don’t acknowledge it, that gorgeous smile still painted wide across your cheeks, response blithe and bright.

“I want to dance with you!”  

“No,” he says automatically, instantly, and he isn’t sure if he’s denying you or denying your statement. “No,” he repeats, firmer this time, molars grinding together. “Let me go. I don’t want to—I really, really don’t want to.”

He commands his arms to jerk away from you, but they do nothing, hanging limply in your grasp. Anxiety-tinged adrenaline rushes through his body, procuring waves of little thorns that sprout beneath his flesh and leave his body quivering. 

“Enough of this, Goddamn it,” he growls over the music, lip curled in a sneer. “I am not going to dance with you.”

He attempts to plant his heels, to root them to the floor, to pool his blood and weigh them down, but his feet aren’t taking no for an answer, and neither are you. 

“C’mon,” you pout, and Christ, it’s lethal. “Just one dance, Ryuu? Pretty please?” 

And it’s the way you’re staring up at him—with startlingly sincere eyes that glitter even in the dimmest of lights, beseeching him—that makes him stop, that has any protests withering to ash in his throat, burnt up in your bonafide flames.

His tongue melts in his mouth, sticky and choking, and he finds he can no longer form the word no anymore, drowning in his own blistering spit, white-hot and boiling beneath your blaze. Denial is something his hazy mind is unable to comprehend, irregardless of how zealously he tries to stitch together a fraying protest, incapable of refusing you no matter how badly he wants to.

Which he does want to, right? 

He isn’t afforded a moment to further meditate on his question, though, because he suddenly finds himself deep in the ocean of people, unable to see or feel anything or anyone but you.

Panic sets in, barbed and paralyzing, his hands beginning to shake as frantic eyes dart around your face erratically, desperately hunting for any clues on how to proceed. 

It’s all so foreign, a torrent of intense, inexplicable emotions clashing within him, roaring over one another as they surge through his rickety frame. Terror roots itself in his stomach, thick and icy, while a fog of confusion encases his brain, dense and stifling. Exhilaration floods his veins, fizzy as it washes over everything else, washes away everything else, a spark of cautious excitement igniting in his chest.

It is all so utterly infuriating. 

You’re looking at him peculiarly, a question shimmering in your eyes, and he snarls at you. 

“I don’t know what to do,” he tells you honestly, body slouching slightly. 

“You dance!”

“I don’t know how to fucking dance,” his face puckers, as if the confession sours his tongue, as if he’s offended you’d have thought otherwise. 

But you’re still brilliant as ever, that megawatt smile back on your lips as your hands encircle his slack wrists.

“I’ll teach you,” you’re telling him, easy, effortless, as you place his jittery palms on your hips, pressing them into your body as if sticking them to yourself, ensuring that they won’t peel off. 

Your flesh is grounding, soothing the tremors wiggling beneath his skin in a mere instant. His fingers spread, splayed long and wide, desperate to gather more of you within their grasp, the tips of his pinkies resting on the swell of your ass. 

You don’t seem to mind, though—or maybe you just haven’t noticed yet—your hips beginning to move in rhythmic little motions, body swaying to the beat of whatever’s blaring through the speakers as your hands run up his chest, leaving thick trails of chills in their wake, despite how sweltering it is submerged this deeply in the crowd.

A shiver ripples his flesh as you drape your wrists over his bony shoulders, fingers idly playing with the tufts of hair curling at the base of his skull, pushing into the tresses and scraping your nails against his scalp before twirling strands around your knuckles. 

An embarrassingly needy moan pries past his lips and his head falls forward, forehead knocking against your own, allowing your fingers more room to move.

If you didn’t hear his moan, you sure as hell felt it, rumbling behind his ribs, vibrations seeping into your body; sure as hell felt the way his body molded further into yours, deliquescing beneath his craving for more. 

He knows you did, because he felt the sweet giggle that chimed so delicately in your chest, he felt the soft huff of amusement that spilled from your lips and soaked into his, warm and tingling.  

But it doesn’t matter, he doesn’t care how pathetically eager he may seem, how pathetically eager he is, how fucking dumb he must look now, after so vehemently attempting to reject you and so miserably failing at it, his pitiful spurns now rendered absolutely useless as he keenly vies for more; more of your body, more of your touch, more of you.

Because as inept as he must seem, it all feels so good, and his eyes slide shut as he lets it overwhelm him, lets it coil around his ankles and plunge him into its depths, swamping his brain and his rationale—giving in, giving up.

Eventually, he comes back to himself, lids lifting when he realizes his body’s practically fused to yours—chests pressed flush together, thighs slotted between one another, arms wound tight, tighter, around hips and necks, further grinding your bones together, a tangled knot of an entity. 

His hands flex on your lower back, squeezing you to him further, fingers snapping blood vessels beneath their grip, staining his name into your flesh in tiny bursts of navy and violet. Your palms are pressed flat to the back of his skull now, keeping his forehead in place against yours as your bodies move as one, both hands buried in strands of ink, fingers rubbing little circles into his scalp. 

Your pupils are gaping, shimmering black holes that seem to consume everything they touch, and Akutagawa finds himself drowning in them, engulfed in the way they’re gazing up at him with such potent adoration it feels fucking choking, like he’s a fucking god, like they want to devour him whole.

And he goes willingly, readily, desperately. 

There are dewdrops of sweat caught in his lashes, little crystals that glisten as they catch on the intermittent neon flashes, that stream down his cheeks and streak his skin with glimmers of teal and fuchsia. Tendrils of ink and ivory are sticking to his temples and his neck, clumped together and saturated with salt. You’re soaked, too, sweet little dress clinging to your curves and contours, clinging to his damp palms, clinging to his sopping shirt, the both of you drenched in each other’s perspiration. 

Your body throbs against his own, so close he swears he can feel your heart beating against his, so close he swears he can feel the blood thrumming through your veins, sirening to his own, ebbing and flowing with his breath, with the beat embracing you both. His nose bumps against yours again, smearing and slippery, and you laugh, nothing more than an echo in your chest and a sweet puff of breath against his own mouth, melodic sound suffocated by the building bass.

It’s all so fucking heady, he feels so fucking high with it all, his lips parting, ravenous for just a taste of you even if it’s phantom, tongue chasing the little ghosts you exhale against him, mopping them up, breathing them in, swallowing them down. 

And, oh, it’s so sweet—sweeter than he could’ve ever imagined, stinging his tastebuds and staining his teeth, and something buried deep and dark inside of him growls, suddenly voracious, a vicious sort of hunger that eats through his veins and infests his mind.

Craving turns to necessity, an urgent desire that claws at his flesh from the inside, shredding muscles and tearing tendons, and he can’t fucking take it anymore, positive he’s going to fucking starve if he doesn’t have you right here, right now, a large palm cupping your jaw abruptly, tilting your face up to his and smashing your lips together.

It’s borderline barbaric, it’s fucking bloodthirsty, his tongue raiding your mouth roughly as it bursts past your lips and curls around your own, sucking hard enough to dispel a cute little yelp from the back of your throat and siphoning it into his own mouth. The jagged edges of his teeth scrape across the slick muscle, harvesting excess spit and coating his teeth with your essence. 

Tongue furling around your bottom lip, he draws it between rows of sharp ivory, teeth latching onto your flesh and burrowing until the skin splits, pungent copper searing his tastebuds. A resounding hiss is hurled into his mouth and he gulps it down greedily, the tip of his tongue laving over the four indents carved into your lip, little craters rapidly pooling with blood, and sopping it up with unnecessary vigour, forcing more to ooze from the wounds. 

“More, more, more,” he’s practically spitting the words onto your tongue, weighted with saliva, cracked with desire. “I need more.” 

His mouth is slippery against yours, lips shimmering and stained with your shade of crimson, his demand smearing blood-tinged drool across your chin. Blunt nails bite through the fabric of your dress, gorging themselves on your flesh, clawing at you as if they want to tunnel into you, bury themselves beneath layers of tissue and veins and live in your bones

“Yeah, yeah,” you’re nodding against him, and God, your confirmation tastes so delicious, airy and saccharine like candy floss. 

It has another moan spilling from his throat and into yours, his tongue sweeping your mouth in yearning, dragging over the dimples of your molars and the divots of your cheeks and drenching them in him.  

“Let’s get out of here,” he growls, the sound razored, a large hand clamping around your wrist, fingers squeezing once. “Now.”  

#akutagawa x reader #akutagawa x you #akutagawa ryuunosuke x reader #akutagawa ryuunosuke x you #akutagawa smut #but its rly only implied lmao #maybe i'll write a part two with actual smut who knowsss

[distastefullydelightful]

It's a Saturday night. You're dressed like a cheap bimbo fuckdoll, as instructed. Knowing how adventurous we are, you assumed I might take you to a fancy club to parade you around. We've been driving for a while now, however, and as we depart the city, it begins to dawn on you - I've got something else in store for you tonight. Eventually, we pull off the tarred road onto some gravel. As it crunches beneath the tyres you see a dimly-lit structure ahead. You notice the dull red glow of a number of breaklights in the dark. I hand your "cumdump" collar to you.

"Put this on", I say. I then fasten a leash to it, and lead you inside. Your heart is pounding. You're thrilled and you're nervous. You're overwhelmed and you're wet. And you have questions, none of which I answer.

And here we are. In this derelict public bathroom off the side of some underused road in the middle of nowhere.

"It's time to get on your knees, slut", I command. I then proceed to take a couple small video recorders out my pocket, placing them on surfaces around the bathroom, all pointing towards where you're kneeling. Your pussy is throbbing by now. You have a sense of what's coming, but the fact that I won't answer your questions also has you a bit unnerved. I switch the cameras on, walk behind you, and start unbuckling my belt.

"You're my filthy fucking whore, aren't you?"

"Yes daddy, I'm your filthy fucking whore."

"Well then, it's time you got treated as such. And it's time the world saw you for the fuckmeat you truly are."

As you whimper, I lift your skirt up, pull your skimpy thong to the side and slide my hard dick into your slippery cunt.

You notice footsteps and murmuring outside, and you make your nervousness known to me. But I put my hand around your throat and hold you down as I start to pound away, faster and faster. A man walks into the room, and immediately motions for the other five to follow. As I pound away at your slippery pussy, I hold your head to make you look them in the eyes.

"Tell them what you are, slut!"

As you bite your lip and whimper, you manage to explain that you're a slutty little cum bucket. They grin excitedly. You're a pretty girl and you look like a street hooker. This is going to be fun. As they unbuckle their belts and start to approach us, I unload deep inside of you. You feel the familiar feeling of my cum flooding out your cunt.

"Clean up your mess, you filthy fucking whore".

You turn around to lick up the cum. But just as you're about to, I tug the leash to look up at me.

"Ask them for permission" I say, motioning toward the group of strange men amassed from advertising your cumdump holes on the internet. They're here to use you as fuckmeat, and you know you have no choice but to give them all kinds of power over you.

The thought of it, on some level, disgusts you. How has it come to this? Are you really going to ask strange old men for permission to lick up the cum which has just dripped from your pussy on some dirty bathroom floor? And yet, you crave this. You're deeply depraved, and it's moments like this when you're forced to confront it.

"Can I eat the tasty cum please, sirs?" you ask. You can't even imagine if anyone you knew saw you like this. You'd be mortified. But right now, it feels so fucking right. You want it so badly and reason has long departed.

Turns out, they're a tough crowd. "Why should we let you? Tell us what you are and why you need it, you pathetic fucking slut" a particularly confident one barks. You know he has no right to speak to you that way but your pussy is aching as a result. You're fuckmeat to him. He doesn't respect you and he doesn't even see you as a real person. And as much as that should revolt you, you want him to show you your place.

You look onto the floor to see this small puddle of cum slowly starting to spread into the cracks between the tiles. You feel humiliated and pathetic. But you just fucking want it. Your pussy is taking over your mind, and you're aware of it happening but incapable of doing anything about it, even if you wanted to.

I answer the man before you even can. "Because she's a good whore and she'll take you all tonight. But she needs to prove to all of you that she can. Eat the fucking cum, slut."

And you do. You feel the cold tiles on your tongue. The reality of your behavior dawns on you, but the more disgusted you are in yourself, the more turned on you become. As you eagerly lick the floor cleaner than its been in months, you feel another dick enter you. It's the confident one. He's thick and raw inside of you, and he's not looking to take it easy. He slaps your ass, pulls your hair, and verbally degrades you. Part of you wants me to come to your defence when he treats you like a cheap disposable slut, but the fact that I join him in the degradation sends you over the edge into mindless whore bliss. As you cum, you feel him emptying himself inside of you. He dismounts you with a few more condescending words and forcefully shoves his dick into your mouth to clean it.

You can feel his cum start to stream from your pussy too. It's overflowing. "You're making a mess again. You know what to do." After polishing his cock with your tongue you move back a few paces until you can lick the new cum puddle up. Shortly after beginning, you feel a new dick slide inside your cum-lubricated pussy.

And so the night unfolds...you're there on this dirty floor, looking like a cheap whore, licking the cum off the floor as it floods from your pussy. After each load is deposited into you, you move back a meter or so, to lick up the cum that dripped from your pussy as the next guy mounts you and fills you up.

Over the next two hours, each of the 7 men in the room have deposited their deed into your fertile young pussy at least twice. Your thighs are glistening with it and you're a sticky mess.

As the men start to depart and you finally stand up again, you notice me switching the video cameras off. You'd forgotten they were even there. "I'm proud of my whore", I say. "I can't wait to show everyone what a depraved fucking slut you truly are."

[scoobysnakz]

Hard Luck

It’s hard finding love when your sole reason to live is your daughter, but when her best friends dad is annoyingly attractive and might have something to do with your rent randomly getting paid, who can blame you for being a little curious?

||* slight angst, I just wrote this on the toilet bc I realised I hadn't updated in ages (sorry), Miguel having intense mood swings, teeny tiny fluff if you squint insanely hard

Chap v

“About before,” you awkwardly shuffle towards him, “I want to say thanks.”

Miguel turns to look you, face tight with concern which doesn't go unnoticed by you. He can feel your eyes scanning him, staring at his expression, trying to read him as his mood suddenly shifts.

“I should pay you back,” you mutter before shoving your hands in your pockets and patting them down as if you don't know they're empty.

He has to stop himself from scoffing, paying him back should be the least of your worries. But Miguel’s nice and those gentle eyes you’re looking at him with soften him- slightly.

“No need,” he sighs, a forced kindness in his voice, “I was just helping out a friend.”

You hate the warm feeling those words spark in your skin because you know it's not him saying you don't need to pay him back causing it. There's still a sense of guilt nagging at your brain though. He's still a stranger, no matter how he puts it, and you owe him money.

Owing people is something that you've grown far too accustomed to and you're determined to not add Miguel to that list.

“Still, at least let me pay for Raya’s ice cream?” you change your tone, secretly praying he thinks it's a question.

Miguel grimaces, charming crinkles forming around his narrowed eyes and arched nose crunching in what you hope isn't disgust. “You have a nice apartment.” he frowns as he changes the subject.

It's your turn to grimace. You purse your lips so tight they hurt and the skin around your mouth smudges with your lip balm. It is a nice apartment, for the price, that you can't keep up with.

He doesn't know why it irks him to see you like this. Not lying, not being irresponsible, no, he hates seeing you so nervous around him. The way you instinctively coil up while having to fight your own body to maintain eye contact.

“I’m lucky its so cheap,” you laugh cautiously, your hands once again finding your pocket and finding a home in the deep cave of denim.

“Cheap?” he raises an eyebrow, his tone suddenly hardening.

You force a smile on your face, lips twitching at the corners and fear shining in your irises. “Yeah.”

He takes up so much room in your kitchen. Not just his body but his whole being. His shoulders might block the light from the lamp reaching you but the overpowering scent of cologne infiltrating the cracks in the air is more than enough to make your stomach clench.

Shakily, you take a step back, knees weakening the more intense his gaze becomes.

“What are you going to do?”

And for a moment you swear you might die.

Miguel knows. He knows that you're flat-broke and days away from getting evicted because you didn't think to cover up that godforsaken letter when you carlessy tossed it in the bin.

The concern that drips from his voice fills you with a kind of self-loathing you thought only your father could bring up. You can't look at him, his gaze is too harsh, too threatening, too unkind for someone you barely know.

“Stay with my mum,” you mutter, hands gripping the edge of the counter as you how your head down.

You can practically hear him rolling his eyes as he nears you with dramatically long strides. “What?” he snaps.

“Me and Raya are going to stay with my mum until I can sort something out!” you hiss.

“How is she going to get to school?” he presses further.

“She only lives about twenty minutes away and my mum can drive us.”

“Can she, now?”

The pure disgust that runs from his expression and out through his voice knocks you sick. Your skin burns with a revolting mixture of shame and anger. Who is he to talk down to you like this? But he's right, you've messed up badly.

Miguel’s worried. He doesn't know you but God, he'd rather die then have someone as precious as you on the streets.

“This isn't any of your concern-”

“You’re just going to let her live like this?” he cuts you off harshly, “moving to your mums whenever you don't pay the rent like a responsible adult? Never knowing what's going on because you can't sort out money?”

Tears sting the corners of your eyes but you fight them back, like always. You refuse to let him see you cry. His words sting but you know, deep down, that you are responsible, that you do what's best for Raya, that your love is enough.

You swear he's bigger now, more threatening, more dangerous. There are fangs protruding past his snarling lips that make your chest tighten in fear.

Anger pulses throughout Miguel’s entire being. His blood is hot and thick with pure rage that only strengthens the more he glares down at you and your pathetic, trembling, pretty lips.

You want to run away, push past Miguel and bolt through your front door but you settle for puffing up your chest and snarling him right back.

“This has nothing to do with you. I appreciate you getting Raya ice cream and picking her up but you are still a stranger who has no valuable insight on this issue.” you try so hard to keep a stable voice, take deep breaths when you feel your throat tighten, look at his forehead not his eyes, but it doesn't and you end up stumbling over your words like an idiot.

The words feel wrong in your mouth, being unkind isn't new to you but targetted to someone you know so little about, you almost feel guilt.

Cool metal hits the poorly clothed part of your back and it's only then that you realise you've been backing away. Your body just naturally falls into submission, even when you have every right to stand up for yourself. That small, faint slither of confidence you had instantly faded away.

Miguel notices this as well, the hidden sadistic part of him going insane over the small gasp that escapes your quaking form, but he still frowns. He wants to reach out and comfort you, let you know how easily he can make this okay but the terror in your eyes distinguishes all hope of that.

He towers over you, his chiselled features now highlighted by the glow of tiles on the floor and his beady, blood-red eyes boring down into you. He stalks towards you, long legs easily pulling him sickeningly close.

You feel miserably weak. Your entire body is numb with guilt as sweat builds in the creases of your palms. But what makes you feel even more pathetic is your desire to be mad yet you can't bring yourself to even weasel out a small argument.

“I’m trying, I really am,” you choke, knuckles burning white with the force of your grip on the counter.

And Miguel’s gaze softens, instantly. All his anger dissolves and all he can see is someone who needs protecting. The way your eyes glisten with tears does something to him. You crumbled so effortlessly that it was easy for him to keep himself in check and now he's got you cowering in the corner in your own kitchen.

He takes a step back and sighs while dragging a lazy hand down his face. “Mierda, I'm… fuck, I'm sorry.”

You try to look at him, to wrap your head around this absurd mood swing but you can't. Just seeing the shame in his eyes burns a hole in your stomach.

“Get out.”

“I got mad and I didn't thi-”

“Out.”

You watch his throat bob as he swallows, hard.

“I’ll go get Gabi,” he sighs.

You shake your head, lips pursed and nose scrunched. You don't want him near Raya, don't think he's safe enough for Gabi to home to, not after a mood swing like that.

You croak a pathetic, “I will,” and walk off. His eyes burn holes into the back of your head but you fight the urge to acknowledge him.

The sound of laughter that leaks from Raya’s bedroom door soothes the burning of your nerves. You might have trembling hands and a racing heart but she's fine- and so is Gabi.

Part of you wants to keep Gabi here, make sure she's safe and let her stay the night but knowing you'd have to face Miguel again at some point is too much.

You knock lightly on the door before pushing it open. “Hey, Gabi,” you smile down at the ground but she's not there. All you can see is a mountain of teddies and blankets in the middle of Raya’s bedroom. Their laughter is present but is mixed with the sound of each other's shushing.

The plushness of the blue carpet on the floor dampens the sound of your footsteps as you creep closer to the pile. You can hear them shuffling around but their laughter has subsided.

Suddenly, you lunge forward and throw yourself onto the pillows with a subtle thud. They both scream as they flail their arms and legs in the air while desperately gasping for air between their violent giggles.

“Your dad said it's time to go home,” you just about manage, as their laughter has affected you too.

Reluctantly, she pulls herself up from the plushy mess, Raya doing the same. They cling to each other, still laughing and whispering, as they disappear through the door.

#atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #spider man 2099 #spiderman 2099 #miguel x reader #miguel x you #fluff #miguel fluff #miguel ohara #miguel au #miguel 2099 #miguel x y/n #miguel angst #angst #light angst

[5ueckers]

you belong with me — teaser

a/n : i wanted to have this finished by today but 😢 here's a lil snippet instead! for context, this specific part takes place in july of 2019, before the start of p's senior year of high school, and reader is her best friend and teammate. happy valentine's! 💕

paige doesn’t get what you see in him.

for one, he’s really not that cute, contrary to what all your other friends believe— there are a million five–foot–ten boys with curly blond hair and green eyes in the world, and you’re pretty enough to have any one of them that you want. for two, he’s so boring. he’s always got you holed up at his ridiculously large house doing something lame, when you could be with her, actually having fun. and lastly, he’s not even that good of a boyfriend. sure, he takes you out on dates and drives you around in his stupid car and surprises you with flowers and gifts, but those are all things she’s done for you and she’s only your friend. it’s the bare minimum, and you deserve a lot better than that; you deserve the world.

she thinks she might actually be sick, watching him tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear and smile at you, leaning in for a kiss. his face is actually so gross, she gags.

“stop, leave her be,” azzi’s voice comes with a little laugh as her hand closes around paige’s forearm, tugging playfully, but the blonde still struggles to tear her eyes away. “paige.”

“they’re disgusting,” paige gripes as she finally looks away, taking a sip of her dr. pepper, not even bothering with her burger and fries anymore. witnessing that interaction ruined her appetite.

“they’re in love,” azzi teases, dragging out the ‘o’, and paige grumbles around her straw, eyes rolling dismissively.

you aren’t in love with him. yeah, it’s been three months since you officially started dating, but paige actually knows you; you’ve liked plenty of guys since she met you in seventh grade, and none of them have ever really meant anything. soon enough, you’ll get bored of him, just like all the others, and it’ll go back to just being you and her again, like it should be.

hopefully, that’s before the season starts in november. she doesn’t want to have to see you with him at homecoming, or even worse, at one of your games— she’d really be revolted, then.

“no, i agree with p,” kayhla chimes in on the conversation. “get a room!” she shouts, hands cupped around her mouth to accentuate the sound, earning the attention of you, him, and everyone else in the wendy’s.

your eyes get all wide and your cheeks tinge red, and the table erupts into giggles at your embarrassed reaction. you step away from him, finally, and turn back to the counter, smiling politely at the cashier as she slides a tray of chocolate and vanilla frosties toward you, and another toward him. paige can’t help but feel a bit smug when you return to the table and reclaim your seat next to her— it’s an end–seat, so he has to sit across from you both. she casually stretches her arm out over your shoulders, and shoves a spoonful of chocolate frosty into her mouth with her free hand.

“you guys are mean,” you say, reaching out for one of her abandoned fries. you don’t do anything about her arm.

“don’t be a freak, then,” paige replies, and you jab her in the side with your elbow, which only makes her laugh harder.

“oh, you have no right to be calling anyone a freak,” you retort playfully. “don’t make me bring up last summer—”

“woah, nah, okay! okay, you win!”

paige throws up her hands in surrender, and everyone at the table laughs again— everyone, except for him. you, on the other hand, laugh especially hard. she can’t lie, it’s vindicating knowing there are parts of you that he hasn’t yet breached, that she can make you laugh this hard and he has no clue why.

that she actually knows you. unlike him, paige isn’t temporary. you’ll get bored of him, and things will go back to being the way they’re supposed to be.

just you and her.

#fic : you belong with me. #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers #wlw #uconn wbb #lowkey girls like girls by hayley kiyoko coded too now that i think abt it #alsoooo the ended of this passage is subject to change cause i don’t like itttt

[tonightwrites]

Emperor husband hcs with an empress that is loyal to him. No concubines, nothing. She waits for him every time no matter how frustrated she can get or how sad and lonely. She’s holding it down for her bae.

I did think of this at first, but then in those days it was meant to uphold peace treaties. Plus the emperor would sooner kill everyone than have a peace treaty like that.

I didn't know if you also meant to leave Alun out so I did just incase, even though he is platonic.

Tw: yandere tendencies, light gore, blood, unwanted advances towards empress and empress mother.

No Concubine AU / Empress & Emperor Backstory

I finally got a break from work T.T

A crown prince was meant to be born, the oldest of the Emperor's children. However the Empress at the time gave birth to a princess, she never hated her daughter for being born. The Emperor was conflicted, every generation had made the first born the next ruler. To the ancestors it didn't matter if they were male, female, or both. As long as they were first born they would succeed the throne.

Even though the empress' uterus was torn the emperor refused to have a concubine to try for a child. Medical practice in that time dictated the mother may likely die if another child is born.

As the Princess grew she realized everyone around her gave her half-assed advice. Her tutor the Emperor hired was telling her how to act like an obedient spouse and listen to the person she marries in the future. The Princess was very stubborn in her ways. she didn't want to have to listen to anyone boss her around.

Her mother the empress loved her dearly and taught her what she knew about ruling. Showed the growing princess what the advisers really think about the emperor. The girl learned what to say to have people be on her side, how to tell when they are not her people, and when the empire is under an empress the change in attitude.

When the emperor had other meetings or important things to do the empress and princess over saw the castle. During on of the princess' first meetings with the emperor's advisers they constantly disregarded her opinions believing she wouldn't succeed the throne. The empress taught her how to handle situations like this for when she couldn't be there.

The teenage princess saw the disgusting looks in their eyes when they would look at her mother. it was revolting, they believed they could get away with anything while the emperor wasn't there. The more she watched from the sidelines with her mother the more the princess learned.

The coming of age ceremony was coming up for the princess. The emperor invited princes from all over to marry her so the husband can take the throne. She could already hear the insincere compliments and flattery. The Princess wore a beautiful dress at her mother's request.

The princess entered the ball room. The guards looking her up and down. Glaring as she passed by them she made her way towards her mother. The princess greeted her mother and the emperor politely, he smiled wide as she bowed towards him. The emperor pointed to a young man beside him. He froze the princess was beautiful... the man bowed to her.

She rolled her eyes at him, first time meeting and he's already drooling over the position of emperor. (he isn't, it's all for her and those sharp eyes)

The princess walked away shortly after to get out of the spot light for a bit. The night time breeze sounded wonderful. However the Emperor locked all the windows and doors to make sure she didn't try to escape.

The best choice in all of the ball room was the table filled with food. She sat in silence for a while until a man came up to her. At first the princess ignored him hoping he would go away if she didn't listen.

He didn't leave, he stayed there staring at her in perverse ways and talking in a flirty tone. She felt disgusted, the princess began to walk away from him. The man grabbed her arm asking.

"Where are you going pretty doll?"

Pretty DOLL?!? her blood boiled at the name. A butter knife laying on the table next to her. The princess held a tight grip on it.

The man from before walked towards the two people. Hoping to protect her from the man, he was too late. A scene where he would never get out of his head was in front of him, the most beautiful person in the world standing over a fallen man with a knife to his throat. The amazing woman drew blood from that horrid man.

Falling deeper into the abyss of obsession and twisted love the young man helped the princess off the horrid thing. He introduced himself as Allerick, admiration in his eyes.

She saw the emotions pouring over him. The affection in his eyes and on his face is clear as day. It intrigued her immensely.

Bestie: @abrokecupoftea

Taglist : 1. @zanary 2. @meforpr3sident 3. @yandere-dark-cupid 4. @devils-blackrose 5. @gallantys 6.@eliciana 7.@ayolk 8.@gayfagdownthestreet 9.@hope-thehooker 10.@reallysparklychaos 11.@deepdinosaurwizard 12.@ana-dear 13.@laylasbunbunny 14.@heavenlayt 15.@redrosetrappola 16. @skull-centric 17. @wannapizzamymindposts 18. @pinkrose1422 19. @esposadomd 20. @shikanosn 21. @thigh-o-saur 22. @brieftastemakergalaxy

only 3 spots remaining for tags, please dm me if you change the name so i can tag you properly. Thank you.

Part 2????

#tonight talks #empress #yandere #concubines #yandere boy #oc #yanderes #yandere male harem #yandere emperor #TSWE #thestrongwilledempress

[arc-misadventures]

In the dragon Faunus au, what Adam up to or is it eve in this au?

The Splintering

Upon a stage before a throng of faunas strode one, Adam Tauras: He was called many things by his enemies: radical, extremest, terrorist. But, to his fellow faunas he was much more than the lies they spread about him; for he was a leader, an equalist, a hero!

Adam: Brothers, and sisters of the, White Fang! Here is our would be king! The supposed dragon faunas. This human in sheep’s clothing’s… But, do not take that as a note of disdain towards him. For he possesses many faunas traits, unlike use who posses one trait, with some minor additional sub-traits. Jaune Arc, the Dragon King possesses five unique traits! An elongated tongue, and retractable fangs that can bite through solid metal! Retractable talons hidden within his hands, the ability to breath fire. And, based upon the reports of our field operative, his majesty is currently in the process of growing horns, these are no doubt to become a crown that signifies his rank among all faunas. As our king!

Adam: Now, many of you have no doubt heard that his majesty has made contact with, Kali Belladonna, and High Leader Khan. They are no doubt trying to sway his grace towards their side. A side of human lovers…

Angry jeers, and cries of outrage echoed throughout the hall. Some even spitting in disgust on the floor at this revolting piece of news.

Adam: I know! I know brothers, and sisters that is grave news. But, worry not! For we will not allow this to stand! For the glory of the faunas, and for the glory of our future king! All shall see the true might of the faunas! For we shall send our most valuable assists to meet with his grace, and tell him the true might of the faunas!

As, Adam step back, a pair of fox faunas step forward, one with a tail, and another with a set of ears. The Albain Brothers, Fennec, and Corsac Albain.

Fennec: Brothers, and sisters we bring forth tidings of great joy; The legend is true: The Dragon King is among us!

The crowd cheered, and howled as the news echoed throughout the crowd.

Corsac: Legends for told of his, Majesty coming, for his arrival will bring forth a golden age for all of, Remnant, and more importantly, a better age for all faunas!

Fennec: His, Majesty may have aligned himself with the more… peaceful faction of the, White Fang. But, my brother, and I shall be heading to, Beacon Academy to tell him of the glory of the faunas, so that he will know how to lead all faunas to a brighter future!

Corsac: We must move swiftly before others dig their filthy claws into his, Majesty, and spread lies to him! But, worry not brothers, and sisters, for we shall set them right!

FC: For the glory of the Faunas!

Adam: FOR THE GLORY OF THE FAUNAS!!!

The crowd cheered, chanting, ‘Glory to the Faunas’ over, and over again. Adam let them cry out for a time before stepping forward, and silencing the crowd before him.

Adam: Now, before we make our preparations for our departure to meet out, King, is there anything you lot want to ask?

Adam’s voice demanded silence, for he knew none would dare ask anything, forhis word was law amongst his brothers, and sisters. And yet, a single hand shot up into the air. Adam gritted his teeth as he held back a snarl within his lips.

Adam: What is it…?

A faunas with white streaks in his brown hair, no doubt a squirrel, or chipmunk faunas of some kind. He held out his scroll as he yelled out his question to those before him.

WF Grunt #1: Uhh… Question! Why are the males, and the female faunas having two separate meetings?

Adam: …

Adam: Eh…?

WF Grunt #2: Yeah, why aren’t their any woman here?

Adam: There aren’t any woman here…?

WF Grunt #3: Ya, ‘der’s just a bunch of boys ‘ere.

Adam: Wasn’t word spread among the ranks about this meeting?

WF Grunt #1: Well yeah, but they told the guys to come here, and the girls to go elsewhere. Why did you do that?

Adam: I didn’t do that! Did you two do that?

Corsac: We have nothing to do with this.

Fennec: This is a matter for all faunas to attend to; why would we exclude half of our kind?

Adam’s mind raced as he look about the crowd. He had no idea why this was happening, but he knew how to find them.

Adam: Where is this meeting taking place!

WF Grunt #1: In the conference hall. I heard they needed to use the monitor in there for something.

Adam jumped off the stage, and rushed towards the hall, a few other members along with the Albain brothers chased after him.

As, Adam reached the conference hall he saw something, and someone he didn’t want to see.

Adam: Ohh… fuck…

Adam could only swear in fear as upon stage before a picture of the Dragon King, was the one person he feared about hearing about the, Dragon King.

His older sister, Eve Taurus.

Eve: Hello ladies~!

The crowd cheered as she waltz across the stage, her large breasts bouncing with every step.

Eve: Alright girls, see this handsome bastard?

Eve pointed to a smiling photo of, Jaune Arc.

Eve: This sexy son of a bitch is the, Dragon King, Jaune Arc~! A short name that rolls of the tongue, that I for one love~!

Adam: Eve?! What the hell is this?!

Eve stopped in her presentation to address the sudden interruption.

Eve: Oh hey little bro! I’ll talk to you in a moment, Mama’s busy.

Adam: With what?!

Eve: Female faunas stuff. You wouldn’t understand.

Adam: What?

Eve: Okay! I know everyone here, especially me, wants nothing more then to pounce this handsome specimen till you look like you’re three months pregnant~!

Adam: Wait what?!

Eve: But, if anyone wants a chance with this guy, all of you must learn the does, and don’ts of seducing this man.

Eve: Okay, there are a few things you must understand about the, Dragon King’s faunas traits. First off, unlike any other faunas, Jaune Arc posses several traits, and is in fact developing more as we speak.

WF Grunt #4: Seriously?!

WF Grunt #5: How many traits does he poses?!

Eve: In total, he has five traits!

WF Grunt #4: HOLY SHIT!

WF Grunt #6: We usually have one main trait, and a few sub traits! But, five traits?!

WF Grunt #5: What are his traits!

Eve: Okay! First off: He has retractable fangs, and is capable of opening his jaw very wide like many snake faunas can.

A photo of, Jaune appeared on the screen showing his mouth wide open, sharp fangs bitting down, and shattering what appeared to be chains.

Eve: See ladies, these are the fangs that our, King possesses. Notice how he is capable of biting through threw metal. So don’t try to chaining him up, he’ll just break the chain.

Eve: With this he has, my personal favourite trait, one hell of a long tongue~!

A photo appeared on the monitor of someone pulling out, Jaune’s rather long tongue from his mouth, much to his disdain.

WF Grunt #6: Holy fuck!

WF Grunt #5: I’ve seen snake faunas with shorter tongues than that!

WF Grunt #4: And, thinner ones at that…

Eve: I don’t know about you girls, but I’m for one interested in finding out what he can do with that~! Now, another one of his traits is his fire breath.

A new photo appeared showing, Jaune roasting marshmallows with his fire breath.

Eve: Now this is rather self explanatory, he can breath fire, hence the moniker of him being a dragon faunas. Just be careful, and try not to get burned. So, sorry, Trifia you won’t be able to wrap him up in your little webs, despite the fact we all know you’re the one into bondage.

Trifia: No I’m not!

The crowd soon started laughing at the poor spider girl’s expense as, Eve continued on with her presentation.

Eve: Now a lot of you feline faunas know what’s these are like. Boom! Talons!

Many of the crowd, particularly the cat faunas oohed, and awwed, at his, once again, rather unique talons.

Eve: These are your pretty standard talons, or claws, whatever you want to call them; The talons hidden under the fingernails can appear on command, yada yada yada. Moving on! Now, there isn’t a photo for this one, for this trait, for this is the trait he is currently developing: Horns. He is currently growing horns.

WF Grunt #5: Horns?

WF Grunt #7: What kind?

Eve: No idea, our sources have just reported on this as a new fact.

Adam: How the hell did you find out about all of this?! You have way more detail on his traits than I do.

Eve: Internet.

Adam: Internet, seriously?!

Eve: Yep, faunas girls like to talk about a hot man. Now quiet, Mama’s busy.

Eve: Now, like most faunas, he also has two common sub traits: A heightened sense of smell, and sight. Now the first one here, his hightten sense of smell is very, very important!

WF Grunt #6: What’s so important about that; lots of us have a good sense of smell?

Eve: Well~! Here we have the lovely Milf of Menagerie, Kali Belladonna.

WF Grunt #5: Preach it sister!

Eve: Before, Kali Belladonna met with, His Majesty, he not only sniffed her out, but he was able to identify that she was the mother of, Blake Belladonna…

Adam: My beloved!

Eve: SHUT UP! Anyway, he was able to tell that she was her mother by scent alone. And, because of his heightened sense of smell, he can easily identify… A prime mate~!

WF Grunt #7: A prime mate…

WF Grunt #6: He can find this just by our natural scent…?

WF Grunt #5: How does he do that!

Eve: Behold! Exhibit A: Deputy Headmistress of Beacon Academy, Glynda Goodwitch~! And, I gotta say, his Majesty has great taste~!

WF Grunt #8: Hello mommy~!

Eve: Based upon reports, Jaune Arc~! Ahem! His Majesty smelt her natural body odour by accident, and went into a panic attack, mostly because he didn’t know what was going on. Now, that he knows that he can sniff out prime mates he hides the fact he smelling them out. He’s not doing it intentionally, his sense of smell is just that strong. Look for his nostrils to be flaring, when they are he has picked up a tantalizing smell~! Good, or bad is the question; he used this to hunt, Adam’s little spy so be careful.

Adam: He did?!

Eve: Yeah, so get ready for, Sienna to give you lot a beat down.

Adam: Eh?

Eve: Also, Sienna has been potentially marked out as a prime mate. Again, he has such good taste.

WF Grunt #8: Can you blame him?

WF Grunt #5: I’d pick her if I could.

Eve: So ladies, now that you know his graces traits, you shall now learn how to seduce his, Grace! No shampoo, or any scented fragrance, or at the least something weak. We gotta let him smell your natural aroma to know if he’s interested.

Eve: Next, don’t come after him screaming you want his babies. He’s a family man, you’re either in it for the long haul, or not at all. His preference are more on personality than your body, but he does appear to like the thic hourglass figure, and who can blame him?

WF Grunt #7: Whoo! My odds are getting better all the time! Suck it!

Adam: Wha… Who the hell is giving you all this information?!

Eve: An information broker on the internet.

Adam: You’re paying for this?!

Eve: Hey, ThunderThighs gives good information, it’s well worth the price.

Adam: ThunderThighs?! Who the hell is that?!

~~~

Nora: ACHOO!

Jaune: Bless you. Hey, where did you get all that, Lien?

Nora: Internet.

Jaune: Internet?

Jaune: …

Jaune: You’ve been selling information about me, haven’t you?

Nora: Yes, but this is mostly from selling the photos I’ve taken of you.

Jaune: Photos? What photos?!

Nora: …

Nora: Oops…

~~~

Eve: Don’t know, don’t care. All I care about is the results, and achieving our goal.

Adam: That goal is having him lead the faunas to a brighter future?

Eve: No, the goal, at least our goal is getting into his pants!

Adam paled as he heard the crowd of woman cheer, and howl in agreement at his sisters depraved words.

Fennec: How dare you! His Majesty is far more than this!

Corsac: You should be on the ground worshiping his Majesty, with the respect, and reverence he is due!

Eve: Oh, but I will. But, while you worship him in your silly little temple, I’ll be worshiping him in the bedroom~!

The men that had trickled into the hall mouths dropped in shear shock, and horror. While the ladies in the hall burst into laughter, and cries of agreement.

Eve: Alright ladies, now you know some of the does, and don’t, there’s nothing to be said, but this: ‘Happy hunting ~!’

Adam: Serious, Eve?! The Dragon Faunas has appeared, a being that will lead the faunas into a golden age, and your more concerned about bedding him; What is wrong with you?!

Eve: You’ll never understand woman, little brother. Haa…No wonder, Blake dumped you.

Adam: What…? S-She didn’t dump me.

Eve: …

Adam: Right…?

Eve: Yeah, you just think that, Adam. Now if you’ll excuse me; Mama’s is on the hunt~!

#rwby #jaune arc #nora valkyrie #sienna khan #adam taurus #eve taurus #fennec albain #corsac albain #rwbt trifa #kali belladonna #glynda goodwitch #blake belladonna

[kneexcutter]

Transformers 1 x reader

. Ngl I forgot abt it

Didn’t proofread

1

2

3

4

I followed the autobots to the boys home. Ironhide trailed behind me for the entire time. It was annoying. His spark will be the first I rip out once I find the allspark and deliver it personally to Lord Megatron.

His spark will be the first I rip out once I find the allspark and deliver it personally to Lord Megatron.

Sam's pheromones are everywhere; it's revolting. Do all humans get like that? That explains why the human female didn’t want to stay with Trent.

Optimus emitted a peculiar sound, transformed, and crossed into Sam's residence. Mikela tried to stop him, while Bumblebee transformed and tried to stop him as well. Ironhide transformed and slammed into the side of my vehicle.

I transformed and shoved him. “Do that again, and I’ll rip your helm off and shove it in your aft.”

“Oh, you pissed her off,” Jazz joked.

“It was rather unnecessary, Ironhide,” Racthet scolded him. Only to receive a dismissive wave.

With a growl, Ironhide glared at me with his optics. Returning the glare, I entered Sam's yard. "Autobot scum, such a waste of scrap."

When he saw all of us on his property, Sam became even more distressed. Which is strange because Trent's sire didn't appear to be bothered by me, but I was in my vehicle mode. Thus, I guess I can comprehend the fleshings' feelings.

Optimus crushed something beneath his pede (foot), causing the boy to yell in frustration. I crossed my restarlueus (arms) and grinned faintly. It's rather entertaining to watch the autobots being ordered to keep quiet, and they simply cannot comply with the boy's request.

“Do anything funny and I’ll kill you where you stand,” Ironhide grunted. I raised my servo and switched it into my cannon, shoving it into his helm.

“Why don’t I do an act right now.” I grimaced, shoving the so-called weapon specialist back a bit. I heard the medic and the tinier mech point their weapons at me. Bumblebee waved his servos signaling us to knock it off, he came up to us and shoved us both apart.

Bumblebee shook his helm side to side at me then turned to his comrades. I raised my optical ridge noticing a rodent making strange sounds at us. It then lifted its leg and let out lubricant on Ironhide’s pede (foot).

I laughed then covered my intake(mouth).

Ironhide grunted in disgust, flinging the rodent in the air slightly and pointed his guns at it. Sam shouted and picked up the rodent trying to shield it.

“You have a rodent infestation, shall I terminate?”

“No no no, this is not a rodent, he’s a chihuahua! This is my chihuahua, we love chihuahuas!” Sam frantically answered back.

“He leaked lubricantes all over my foot.” Ironhide grumbles.

“Oh, he peed on you? Bad Mojo, bad Mojo.” Sam says.

“Good Mojo.”

Ironhide fixed his gaze on me and huffed, putting his guns away. Sam looked between Ironhide and I then apologized to Ironhide again. “Sorry it’s a male dominance thing-“

Ironhide walked away from the boy complaining that his pede (foot) is going to rust. Sam quickly ran to his home and yelled at us to shut up and to go hide.

Optimus told the boy to hurry then told the autobots to recon.

I looked down at Mikela. “Mikela, what is that rodent chihuahua? Is it like your bigger rodent at your home?”

Mikela looked up at me, her face seemingly in a panic. “Uh- yeah, yeah, it’s a dog, and we have them as pets.”

“Ah, like a cybertrion hound, I understand,” I nodded my helm at her. Dogs were like the hounds from home, that makes better sense, they have similar characteristics.

Bumblebee moved away from me and crouched down to peer inside the Witwicky’s home. Optimus then gestured Mikela over and held his servo down for her to climb on. She got on while Optimus moved her to what I’m assuming to be Sam’s room. Optimus then told Sam to hurry.

This is embarrassing to watch.

Bumblebee came back towards me and transformed into his vehicle mode.

“I’m not a damn autobot.”

I noticed everyone else transformed into their vehicle modes. I shook my helm watching the pathetic insects. I should kill them now. Optimus then transformed back, going over to Sam’s window, Sam became annoyed by something and the prime began to become aggravated but apologized to the boy.

“Autobots fall back.”

The others changed yet again. I rolled my optics. Ratchet walked into something that led him to fall, and his big aft caused the electricity to go out in the vicinity.

The autobots were around Sam’s window practically dancing around trying to avoid something. I could hear the older human with the gut yelling at Sam. Optimus then told everyone to hide. While Bumblebee wriggled to avoid being seen by Sam's sire, I hunkered down next to him.

After he left, I changed my servo to a gun and pointed it in the direction of the boys' room. I sighed then changed my gun back to my servo. Bumblebee swatted it away and violently shook his helm.

“The parents are very irritating, can I take them out?”

“Ironhide. You know we don’t harm humans what is with you,” Prime scolded Ironhide.

“Well I’m just saying, we could. It’s an option.”

“I agree with the specialist Prime, the fleshlings are rather small and useless, killing them would be beneficial.”

“Humans deserve the right to make their own decisions, we don’t have the right to decide for them, harming them will do no good.”

They don’t harm humans? What a shame. I’ll harm the insect’s plenty enough later.

Optimus motioned for us to follow him while Sam and Mikaela went with his parents.

I changed into my vehicle mode and tailed Bumblebee. Sam appears to have glasses bearing the Allspark code; the only issue at hand is figuring out how to obtain it from the Prime. Enabling my com link would reveal my strategy, and I must win the trust of the autobots.

There was a light static through my radio. Someone was trying to contact me? I accepted the static line and heard Bumblebee. He's easier to understand this way for some reason.

Y/N: You really trust me that much?

Bumblebee: I trust that you’ll do the right thing

Y/N: I’ll do right for our home.

Bumblebee: With Megatron?

Y/N: He knows what he’s doing.

Bumblebee: So does Optimus.

Y/N: Dancing around a human? Like a fool.

Bumblebee: He wants the humans to be spared from our mistakes.

Y/N: Does it matter?

Bumblebee: It does. It was our fault our home was lost, the humans shouldn’t have to pay for our mistakes.

Y/N: Did Optimus tell you that?

Bumblebee: Is it obvious?

Y/N: Yes… what’s going on?

Bumblebee: Sam and Mikaela were taken by other humans.

List

@totallynoteggos @ohgodthebogisback @liliyhsblog

@ambermistwing @skylarstormheart

#x reader #x you #transformers #autobots #bumblebee x reader #tf bayverse #bumblebee #decepticons #starscream #transformers bumblebee #transformers bayverse #bayverse optimus prime #bayverse bumblebee #jazz #ironhide #ratchet #sam witwicky

[warmerstranger]

Hii I loved that recent enstars writing you did so much! If I may request something like Mayoi and/or Koga going to try desserts with y/n? I have so much brain rot of these dorks lol ♡

- 🍰 anon

Piece of Bites

ft. Koga Oogami, Mayoi Ayase

alriighht, here's ur order thank you for waiting !! aha, sorry it took like a week, the procrastinating hit me so bad ...

°°``Marked as and included with: fluff! Mayoi being kind of obsessive tho, he means well <3 um is the favoritism too obv here...

[Koga Oogami]

🐺 The moment word 'desserts' are mentioned to him, his face would slightly scrunch like they're something repulsive to him. You must've picked the wrong person...

🐺 Yes, he just come up with the sweetest and cutest desserts imaginable especially if you talk about it and give them to him. He would have his tongue out in a disgust, flat-out refusing without any whiny complains before having you to enjoy it yourself instead. He would still keep you company by getting his own snacks to eat with, though.

🐺 Really, Koga doesn't have a particular grudge or some shitty memories going on against it, he won't go through the sweet aftertaste of eating them or feeling the soft texture melting on his tongue it's yucky. Those type of desserts aren't just for him. Just consider it, do you even think those things suit him? He literally keeps up a wild and rough image as his whole part of identity!

🐺 ...okay, since he's the tougher man and if you have begged enough or use the most effective puppy eyes at him, he would brave through them, the texture and taste be goddamned. They're nothing for him, he's no coward (in actuality if you bought them for him too, it would leave a more bitter taste in his mouth when he just refuse and let you give them to another person). He could sit down and wolf them down try a few bites all the while growling out of spite he has towards the poor desserts. In return you must have some grilled meat or something alike in advance to wash the taste off, especially along with some genuine acknowledgement from your own mouth.

🐺 If they are desserts that aren't sweet or fruity taste and more within a savory level... now they might be a whole different thing going on for him.

🐺 He would eat them and leave no crumbs (literal), expressing his satisfaction and all be referring them 'this rocks' or as 'the good shit'.

🐺 Just be prepared to face the next time he would share some meat with you to eat together. All a steak or barbeque session you're in for...

[Mayoi Ayase]

🦝 Crying, shaking, sobbing, he can't believe you're willing to be in precious moments like this with him..! It's as if he has gone knocking the heaven's door from how much bliss he's feeling he might just die happily.

🦝 While he might have some preferences, it doesn't matter much about how they taste, all that matters is the fact he and you eat them together! Especially if you pick them specifically for him, not even the delicious taste of desserts can outmatch his pleasure of your kind thoughts for someone as revolting as him...

🦝 Mayoi might offer to spoon-feed you or alternately taking turns trying your part while you try his. He's going feral just imagining the indirect kiss when you offer using your own or his spoon..!!

🦝 He's enjoying the experience overall with a bashful smile plastered and humming delightfully the whole time you would think it's because of the desserts since he's eating them happily when he's mostly focused on watching you eat or appreciating your company.

🦝 His rambling would be amplified, driven as the fuel by the desserts if they particularly leave him a satisfying taste. He feels like he can open up more to you.

🦝 He would make sure to let you know he's thankful and he would cherish this moment dearly for the time to come.

🦝 Mayoi wouldn't mind having desserts together with you again sometime! Very soon, preferably, he might even pick and bring your favorites next time.

#enstars x you #enstars x reader #enstars fluff #enstars headcanons #ensemble stars x reader #mayoi ayase x reader #koga oogami x reader #ensemble stars x you #enstars imagines

[void-ink-studios]

Hidden Treasure

I put out a poll, and the people have loudly spoken. It's still up for a few hours, since I can't make polls last shorter than 24 hours, but there's a very clear winner.

Enjoy your food, y'all.

You can check out my other works with the links here:

Wrath of the Wishmaster

Touch of Light

Memories of the Homeland

Word Count: 3,000

Scarab had known for a long time that he was not what anyone would describe as pleasant to look at. That was something his coworkers had made certain he understood.

He knew bugs were not considered beautiful up close. There were parts people liked about them, the parts that get pinned and displayed in collections. The wings and carapace often shimmered with colors found nowhere else.

Maybe that's why his shell was the only part Scarab didn't feel the need to hide.

People admired it like a piece of art. They'd ooh and aah and admire from a distance.

Only from a distance.

Because people's admiration of bugs tended to stop once you get close enough to notice details.

No one liked the micro hairs in his joints. No one liked how he seemed to click and clack when he moved, like a doll. No one liked his needle-like claws that always seemed very slightly sticky.

And no one liked his face.

When he had first joined the pantheon, it was one of the first things he learned.

His face was called a lot of things. Unsightly. Unpleasant. Creepy. Gross.

His eyes were called too big. Too wide. Too intense a stare for people to handle.

His mouth was called disgusting. A horror show. Nightmarish.

When he had antenna, they were called unsettling with how they twitched and moved seemingly randomly.

He'd heard all of these things and more, both long before and long after he donned the mask.

No one liked eating near him, because no one wanted to see his proboscis and mandibles. No one liked walking next to him, because no one wanted to hear his odd clicking joints or an accidental chirp. And certainly no one liked looking him in the eye, because no one wanted to feel his stare of his too-wide eyes.

So no one sees his face, unless it's to intimidate. Because that was its only acceptable use, these days.

Scarab had accepted all of these factors long ago. He had accepted that companionship was off the table for him amongst the gods. The parts of him that would've made him preen back home are now objects of scorn and disgust. He accepted he was meant to be scorned, and it just made his job as Auditor simpler.

Which is why he was utterly baffled by Prismo and his behavior towards him.

Because Prismo threw everything he'd ever been taught about the gods out the window.

Scarab had been dreading his punishment as Prismo's assistant. Part of why he worked so hard as a God Auditor was so he had to spend as little time with other gods as possible. As much as he was used to their insults and disgust, it didn't mean he wanted to stick around and take them. But now, he was trapped, in a tiny room, with nothing but him and a Wishmaster he had trapped in a cube and tried to destroy. Prismo had more reason to hate him than almost anyone else.

But Prismo seemed more fascinated than revolted by his insectoid features. He encouraged them, even.

Eons of being trained out of his heritage, erased by a pink dream shadow, and an ounce of kindness and understanding.

They'd adapted to each other, quite thoroughly. Prismo had come to understand the many clicks and trills and chirps Scarab would make. He had given him liberty to make burrows into the Time Room walls to let him feel comfortable and safe. He'd even indulged his need to climb and crawl and explore in whatever little ways he can.

It was the first taste of true understanding Scarab had felt since he had left home.

And he hated himself for how much he craved it.

It was all Prismo's fault. Scarab had accepted his lot in life. He'd come to understand that friendship was not in the cards for him. But, there the Wishmaster was, throwing that understanding into chaos, filling his heart with stupid, poisonous hope.

Scarab was not meant for hope.

He was not meant for love.

The realization that that was what he was feeling sent the beetle spiraling for days. He of course did the not cowardly thing, totally didn't spend most of several days hiding in various holes he'd made and avoiding Prismo like the plague.

Totally not a cowardly move at all.

When he was over his minor freakout, he chose to swallow the poison down. Do what he always did. Take those feelings, squish them into the size of a marble, lock them in a box, and shove that box to the bottom of him mind.

It's nothing he hadn't done before. One must compartmentalize to cope with the existential dread of realizing you're never going home, everyone you've ever known or love has been dead for a very long time, and that home probably looks nothing like how you remember it. Shoving down complex emotions is easy.

He just had to remember one thing: Prismo has never seen his face.

It's the only reason he can think of as to why the Wishmaster isn't revolted. Because he hasn't seen the horror show of his face.

Scarab rationalized further. He's not appreciated or liked by Prismo, not really at least. He's just... an oddity. A novelty. Something to gawk at for a few centuries.

Prismo would drop the curiosity the second he sees what Scarab really is.

Because no one liked bugs. Not up close.

But, despite all his rationalizing, Scarab found himself stuck on what to do with it.

A part of him, a weak, spineless part of him, didn't want the kindness to stop. That part of him wanted to keep singing his native songs without scolding, to dig without scorn, to crawl without disgust. Even if he knew it was all novelty that would wear out eventually, the cowardly part of him wanted to prolong it for as long as possible.

But the other part, the one who gave up on being nice to gods a long time ago, wanted to rip the bandaid off, so to speak. That part of him wanted to show Prismo exactly what he's stuck with. It wanted him to drop the niceties already and behave the way gods are supposed to.

He gave you burrows and comforts on your bad days one side argued.

He'll grow bored or annoyed of you at some point, you don't want to get used to kindness by the time that happens the other retorted.

For weeks this debate raged in his head, his roommate none the wiser. He was starting to think this debate would just be the way of things for the time being.

Until, for the seemingly millionth time in his existence, Prismo threw a wrench into the works.

"Hey, Scarab!"

Uh-oh, Prismo sounded excited. That usually means Scarab is about to be dragged into something foolish, but he'd better just roll with it rather than deal with the aftermath later.

"Yes, Prismo?"

"I know you can't smell much, but can you, like taste stuff?"

Scarab blinked, confused at him.

"...Can we even eat in this form?"

"I mean, we don't really need to, but that's no reason to not enjoy snacks every now and then, right?"

Scarab held back the eyeroll. "No, I suppose not. To answer your question, if this form at all matches my corporeal body, then yes, I can taste things just fine."

"Awesome. Can I ask you a favor?"

"I have an inclination I don't have much of a choice, so, sure. What do you want?"

"Try this!"

And suddenly there was a pickle in Scarab's hand. He raised an eyebrow expectantly at the Wishmaster.

"I'm trying a new recipe. Usually I'd ring Cosmic Owl to taste test, but he's busy right now. Something about backed up tokens... Anyway, I figured I might as well ask my buddy!"

Scarab's brain finally caught up to the situation at hand. Prismo wanted him to eat this. In front of him. With no real way to turn around or conceal himself or his face.

Glob dammit.

"Uhm... I'll try it later..."

"Oh c'mon, please? I need to know if this batch is right before I try making more!"

Prismo was beaming at him. Smiling expectantly. When did that smile weaken him this much?

Okay, there was no way around this, not without deflating the Wishmaster's eagerness. Slowly, he opened the bottom of his mask, mandibles and proboscis unfolding clumsily. He kept his eyes off of the one watching him, eating the snack in silence. It was good, he'd give Prismo that, but everything he could say was drowned out by dread.

"I-It's uhm... It's good, Prismo."

There were a few beats of silence. Enough to make Scarab's fingers itch. Enough to draw his eyes back up.

Prismo was staring. At him. At his mouth, which he only just realized he didn't fold back up yet. Oh Glob.

"...Prismo?"

"Sorry, I just... I realized that's the first time I've seen you eat..."

Scarab couldn't place Prismo's emotion in his voice. He didn't stick around long enough to find out.

He clamped his mouth shut, his face plates making a loud cracking sound as they slammed closed in place. One hand unconsciously came up to cover it further.

"I-I'm sorry" he managed to squeeze out just before diving into the Time Room's lower levels.

Hide, hide, need to hide, need to protect, need to hide. He saw, he saw, he hates you, he saw your ugliest parts, he's revolted, hide hide HIDE!

He distantly heard Prismo yell after him, but it fell on clouded ears. Scarab made a mad dash; into the elaborate tunnels he had made throughout the basement, away from everything, away from him.

The beetle curled up into a deep, dark, forgotten corner of the Time Room and shook. He could hear his shell clicking together as he shivered, distressed chirps and trills punishingly falling from his mouth.

He saw. He saw and stared. He knows what you are. No one likes bugs. No one likes bugs like you. No one likes bugs up close.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't you dare cry. This is what you get for hoping. This is what you get for thinking anyone would want to be close to you. Gods squash bugs like you. You're lucky you haven't been yet. You're lucky you're not in a terrarium or pinned up on the wall somewhere.

That voice sounded suspiciously like some of the other gods. It's not like it mattered. He just hoped Prismo never paid attention to where Scarab was building his tunnels.

"Scrabs? Buddy, where are you?"

Scarab squeezed his mandibles tightly shut, trying and failing to block his distressed noises. He used to be so much better at holding these back, when did he lose so much self-control?

He couldn't even swallow down the embarrassing whimper he made when Prismo's bright blue eye locked onto him from the burrow's entrance.

"Scarab, bud, what's wrong dude?"

He wanted to hiss. His hindbrain was telling to hiss, scare away the threat, make him leave, protect the burrow, but none of it was happening. Because hissing would just expose his mouth again...

"...Go away, Prismo..."

"Was the pickle really that bad?"

"No you fool!"

"Then what's wrong? Something's wrong, and I don't wanna leave you hanging."

Something in Scarab's chest snapped.

"Just drop the act, Prismo! Stop pretending to like me already!"

"Woah, woah, what? What act?"

Rage, that was a much easier to understand emotion than the ones Scarab's been grappling with for weeks. Rage was easier to understand than this strange, vague attraction to the Wishmaster, rage was easier to understand than what possible reasons Prismo had to be nice to him, rage was familiar. He was desperate for a return to understandable. So he reveled in it.

"Stop trying to trick me, Prismo! I never thought of you as a cruel god, but you're shaping up to be one of the worst out there! Poisoning my mind with... with this nonsense!"

Prismo seemed to flinch at his tone. Good. Maybe that'll get him to stop whatever it was he was trying to do.

"Scrabby, what are you talking about? I thought we were buddies!"

"That's just what you'd want me to think, isn't it? Try to be my friend, fill my head with hope, so it all comes tumbling down harder. It's quite devious, I'd almost admire it. Tell me, is it something you came up with, or did one of the higher ups give you the idea?"

Prismo's eyes filled with... sadness. No, wait, that's not right... He should be getting angry! Disgusted!

"Scarab..."

"How dare you, Prismo. How dare you make me think I'm... that I'm something tolerable to be around. No one likes bugs, Prismo! I learned that lesson a long time ago. No one likes bugs, unless to pin them on the wall or pull their legs off! So stop pretending like you're not revolted by me and just get on with it!"

In one final act of defiance, he opened up his mask entirely, hissing and putting on full display his disgusting face. His mandibles clicked wildly, and his eyes bore right into Prismo's.

There, that ought to do it.

Except Prismo didn't seemed frightened. Just... sad. No, no, that's not what he's supposed to feel... No, no, that's not correct.

His hiss wavered, his voice starting to break.

He saw something pink move closer to him. He closed his eyes and braced himself. For what, he didn't know. But he knew to expect something.

Except, it didn't come. Tenderly, he opened one eye, to see Prismo's hand, about a foot away from him.

Just like he had done when he found him in the pickle cubby...

Don't cry don't cry don't cry don't... cry...

"S-Stop it... Please, just... stop..."

Prismo made no move closer. But he didn't pull his hand back either. Scarab flexed his clawed hand for a moment. He could swipe, and the Wishmaster would feel it but...

He couldn't...

He awkwardly reached his hand forward, letting it overlap into that vibrant purple. His entire form shivered at the contact, especially Prismo's thumb petting his claws.

"Don't you dare, Prismo... Don't you dare make me feel like... like you actually care..."

"I'm sorry no one's made you feel like that before."

Scarab's breath hitched. He shook his head. Don't cry don't cry don'tcrydon'tcrydon't-

"Can you come out of the hole, Scarab?"

The hold on Scarab's hand lightly tugged him forward. He wasn't sure why, but he let himself be tugged. Maybe he was just too tired to fight it anymore. Prismo at least gave him the privilege of staying mostly in the hole, just his head peeking out.

Which was... still open. Prismo was this close to his real face...

Scarab panicked and tried to close it back up, but a soft touch stopped him. A hand. A gentle one, on his cheek.

His cheeks felt wet suddenly. Had he started crying? When did that happen? Regardless, a thumb brushed the tears away, as Scarab was painfully aware of Prismo examining his face.

"You're, like, a little hidden treasure, you know that?"

"...What...?"

"Yeah. I like your eyes... And I'm sorry if me looking at your mouth earlier is what freaked you out... It's just... I'd never seen anything like it before."

"I apologize for inflicting it onto you..."

"Woah, that's not what I meant. Look, I don't know what anyone else might've told you, but I think they just had no taste. I think you're beautiful."

Scarab's mandibles clicked together, his eyes wide in sheer disbelief. Beautiful... Prismo called him beautiful...

"I... I-I... I don't know what to say..."

"Was that too forward?"

"N-No! I've just... never heard... anyone use that word to... describe me..."

"Are you kidding? Have you seen yourself? You're gorgeous. Elegant. I've always thought that. I'm just happy I have the complete picture."

Scarab wasn't sure how or if his dignity could survive this moment, but the sniffle he just made probably didn't help.

"Hey. Can I... try something?"

Scarab gave a tiny little nod. And then suddenly Prismo was kissing him. On his mouth. On his real mouth.

Kissing was not something that came naturally to Scarab. His species did not kiss, not in this way. But Prismo made it feel thoughtless. He closed his eyes and melted into it.

His mandibles even found use, gently cradling the Wishmaster's cheeks before they pulled away. Both of their cheeks were flushed.

"Did you... like that?" Scarab felt stupid for even asking, but his brain had turned to mush the second Prismo touched his cheek. The Wishmaster gave him a warm, kind smile, nodding.

It didn't even end there. The pink projection scooped the beetle up and began peppering soft little kisses all over his face. On his cheeks, between his eyes, on the joints of his mandibles, even right between where his antenna belonged.

The chirps Scarab made should've been a bit embarrassing, but he couldn't bring himself to care at the moment. Not in the first moment in eons he's felt treasured. Valued. Beautiful.

"May I try something?"

"Go ahead, gorgeous."

Scarab held Prismo's face, bringing their foreheads together. The beetle nuzzled that spot tenderly, chirps morphing into purrs almost. He privately mourned his antenna, which he could imagine carding through the Wishmaster's hair.

"Well, aren't you a sweet thing, Lovebug?

Scarab sputtered at that, face flushing a deep shade of blue. He loathed Prismo's smug chuckle as he kissed at his plated neck.

"You're terrible."

"Thanks." He let out a content sigh, nuzzling back against Scarab's head. "...Can we head back upstairs now? I think someone needs some more smooches on his gorgeous little face."

"You are actually insufferable. But... yes. I would like that."

The two stayed practically glued together for quite a while afterwards. There was a warmth now. A light, pleasant warmth, one that filled up the Time Room quite nicely as they cuddled. Scarab's chirps echoed softly off the walls as Prismo rubbed pleasant circles in his back.

And Scarab, for the first time in thousands of years, didn't feel the need to put his mask back on.

He didn't need to. Not for Prismo.

Who seemed to like bugs much more than one might expect.

#prohibitedwish #scarab x prismo #scarab the god auditor #prismo the wishmaster #prohibitedwish fanfic #Wrath of the Wishmaster

[bean-bean2000]

The Hacker - Part 7

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Status: Ongoing

All feedback is very welcome and appreciated!

Warnings: Physical and psychological torture, action, angst, feeling alone.

Please let me know if i missed any warnings and I will add them.

Part 6

Series masterlist

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You don't know how long it's been; minutes? hours? days?

You're disoriented, starving, thirsty, exhausted. Your body is giving up on you.

You're beaten, bloodied, scarred. Everything hurts. You can't move a muscle. The Reaper has injected you with different substances, some more painful than others.

One of the injections heightens your nerve pathways, making you feel everything 10 times stronger than normal. In other words, a simple pinch, felt like a deep cut.

That was the worst one yet. He took a long sharp scalpel and cut you everywhere. Some were small and surface-level, others deep and scarring.

You were beaten, until you passed out and were left on the floor. Your cheek is purple, one of your eyes is swollen shut, your lip is split and you can feel blood trickling into your mouth.

With every punch, kick, slice of the knife, they repeatedly asked you to tell them everything you know about the Avengers, tell them their weaknesses, their missions, their plans - everything.

No matter what they threw at you, you refused to budge. You refused to give them what they wanted - you would never sell the team out, they were your new found family.

The door creaks open, lights opening in the room showing The Reaper strolling into your cell.

"So, my dear? Have you chosen to speak or will you feign silence?"

You spit at him.

"Fuck you." you croak.

You hear a chuckle from behind him. Brock emerges from the door and stalks towards your chained body.

You stare at him with disgust.

"I see you never lost that fire within you, that deep will to live and desire to protect who you call family..." Brock says, squatting down to face you.

"I fell in love with that.... you made me fall in love with that person..." he says as his eyes darken at the memory.

You start laughing "You thought anybody would love you? You're a pathetic man, if I can even call you that."

He grabs your cheeks roughly.

"You lied to me. You pretended to be somebody you're not. You climbed the latter through me -"

"All I had to do was fuck you and you fell apart. You made it too easy." you snicker.

"You fucking bitch. I made you who you are today. You're alive because of me. " he slaps you across the face.

You continue laughing.

"You think this will do anything to me? I've been beaten my whole life. This is nothing to me. I did what I had to do to survive. I knew who you were from the moment we shook hands sealing our deal - the hydra tattoo on your wrist is a little too obvious, sweetheart. I used you for knowledge and shelter. Every moment spent with you was revolting - especially after you showed me who you truly were - who the monster is that you're hiding beneath that mask you call a face."

Brock yells in frustration and hits you again.

You laugh again "I knew you were using me as a weapon, as an asset for a future benefit. I figured, the closer I got to you, the safer I would be. I just didn't realize how easy it was going to be."

"The second I had a chance to trick you at your own game and escape - I did. I used everything you taught me to hide. I guess you taught me a little too well." you snicker, a smirk forming across your bloodied face.

"You want more? This isn't enough for you? Well, I'll let my friend here decide what he deems to be the next appropriate treatment." He gets up and walks away, slamming the door closed.

"I see..." The Reaper snickers and walks to the table with the open briefcase.

"I've wanted to try out this new serum of mine for a while now... you'll be patient zero."

He stalks towards you and you try your best to scramble away from him. He grabs your arm and injects you with the serum.

"If this doesn't break you, then I will. I will make sure you become a shell of who you used to be."

Your head starts spinning and you throw up on the floor. You're shivering, everything hurts, your head is pounding. You close your eyes, you're in a fetal position screaming in pain, willing it to go away.

Finally, it suddenly stops. Everything is so quiet, all you can hear is your heart beat.

You open your eyes and look up. You're in your old bedroom sitting on your bed.

What? How is this possible... what's going on?

You hear screaming coming from the other room. The door to your room swings open and your father storms in, rage filling his eyes.

No. No. No. I can't relive this again. Please, make this stop.

He grabs you by the arm and throws you to the kitchen floor.

No. Not this day. I can't relive this day, please.

You hear the gun click as he shoots your mother.

No. No. No. I can't do this. Make it stop.

You're grabbing your head, rocking back and forth on the floor, screaming and crying.

Your father is yelling at you "Worthless. Piece of shit. I told you, you would never amount to anything. A waste of life. A waste of oxygen." he spits at you.

You suddenly lunge at him screaming. As you're about to tackle him, he disappears in a mist and you fall on concrete.

What the?

You look around and recognize the dingy alley way.

No, not here.

You watch as the man who saved you, but cursed you all the same walks towards you. He's offering you sanctuary.

You get off the streets, but you work for him in exchange. You accept.

You watch yourself shake hands with the man that would ruin your life for years, trapping you in a prison of lies.

"We have a deal, Brock Rumlow." you say as you shake his hand.

You're watching the scene unfold in front of you. You're screaming at yourself to stop, to run and not take his deal. He's the devil.

It's too late. You can't change the past.

You fall to the floor in defeat. Mentally and physically exhausted. You close your eyes, tears streaming down your face.

I can't relive the past. I can't do this. Please.

You gasp awake as you bolt upright from the floor of your cell.

You groan as you roll over. You're staring up at the ceiling covered in mold and damp.

You try recollecting yourself, reminding yourself that it's all a trick. It wasn't real.

As you force yourself up, you notice something shining on the floor near the cell door.

Your chains are long enough for you to get close to it, using your feet to bring the shiny object towards you.

A key.

You smile wide as you take the key and try unlocking the chains.

They worked. You're free.

You get up and try the key on the cell door and it also worked.

You start laughing. They're so stupid. They used the same key for the door and the chains!

You walk toward the door, holding your left side as your clavicle has been broken and left to heal badly. Your wincing as you drag yourself across the room.

As you grab the door handle, you can taste freedom. You can taste fresh air. Hope is spreading to your chest, your heart beating with relief once again.

You open the door and see Bucky and Steve in front of you. You're crying with joy as you run towards them.

As soon as you get close, Bucky grabs you by the throat and lifts you off the floor. You're scratching at his metal hand, nails bleeding.

"Please... Bucky.. it's me...." you choke out.

He says nothing as he throws you across the floor. You're coughing and in severe pain; bruises already forming around your neck.

You hear Steve and Bucky laughing.

"What did you think would happen, Cyber? Did you think you anything more than an asset to us? Did you think I could actually love you? I would never fall for someone like you." Bucky spits at you.

"What a weakling. You think we would protect you?" Steve snares as he looms over you.

"Did you ever think you would have to protect yourself from us?" Bucky says with an evil grin spreading across his face.

"No! you promised me! WHERE WERE YOU WHILE HE WAS TORTURING ME?! Why are you doing this to me?! I kept my mouth shut for YOU! I took all this pain for YOU!" you feel your lungs burn as your screaming at them while sobbing.

"I trusted you." you sob.

"Maybe you shouldn't have." Steve says as he kicks you.

Bucky then punches you and Steve throws you across the room.

You're groaning in pain. You're silent as you take the beatings. Unable to move or feel anything anymore.

Your eyes are swollen from the punches, lip split, ribs bruised and most likely some are broken.

Steve lowers himself to the floor so your faces are inches apart. You're drooling out blood and flinch when he takes your chin in his hand. "Did you really think we would ever truly care about you?" he snickers.

You feel your heart breaking.

"I only ever thought of you as a means to an end. You're an asset." Bucky says to you. His blue eyes are boring into yours but you don't recognize them. They're not his, they're not the kind and caring eyes you were used to seeing daily.

You see the rest of the team walking up behind them. Tony, Natasha, Sam, and Bruce.

"You were a mission."

"You could never be a part of the family."

"It was too easy. You were so broken, all we had to do was pretend to love you for a bit and you were putty in our hands."

"Sorry kiddo, I'm just the doctor here. You were just another patient."

You're sobbing on the floor in a pile. Your head is spinning as you process what they're saying to you, how they really feel about you and what Steve and Bucky have done to you.

It's all too much, you're crying so hard, you're in so much pain that you fall unconscious once more.

You gasp awake again. This time you're tied to a chair. You hear The Reaper laughing.

"Did you enjoy your little trip?" he snickers.

"I think that was a success. Breaking your mind is the first step to gaining your compliance. I'd say it is working rather well, would you not?"

You let your head fall as you stare at the floor.

I never had a way out. I'll never be free. I was right, nobody will look for me because nobody cares.

"One last thing... I want to give you a little... token, let's say. Every time you look in the mirror, you'll see me." He says as he grabs a sharp blade and cuts across your face, from the corner your eyebrow to the tip of your nose. You scream in agony.

"That'll scar nicely....I think that's enough for today."

You hear his evil laughter fill the room as he exits and you fall back into darkness once again.

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#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #captain america #fanfic #natasha romanoff #steve rogers #steve x reader #tony stark #tony x reader #marvel

[blogforwritinggenshin]

Hi I have a request for an sagou Au

This will be a imposter Au but ok ok here's the twist the Devine that the find first is Your twin and now they think your pretend to them so the reader is trying to go to their twin with out being executed

-☕️

Divine Twin

Note: I didn’t follow your prompt perfectly, just because the train of thought I had diverted very quickly. Heh, sorry (>_<;)

CW: Swearing, reader gets hurt

Nothing makes sense right now.

There’s no ”creator” in the game.

The only other person that looks like you is your twin.

Who you haven’t seen in weeks!

That’s why you were digging through their stuff in the first place. You usually wouldn’t go looking through their stuff but this was an emergency situation.

Where did they go?!

And then suddenly you’re on the ground in the grass and not their bedroom. Your senses overwhelmed by your new surroundings.

The way you’re so enraptured and in awe of the water and cliffs and statue of Morax is quickly interrupted by what sounds like a whoosh and then burning. Someone has teleported behind you.

You’re yanked off the ground and hauled to your feet, the voice of your closest adeptus friend– (at least that’s what you liked to imagine)– speaking darkly.

“How dare you. You think you can deceive me? Your attempt to copy my creator’s face has only earned you my hatred.” He summons his mask and spear, “you will have no mercy from me.” He thrusts forward, and you flinch back.

“Wait!”

The tip barely pokes through your shirt.

“Who dares protect this disgusting imposter?”

“Great adepti,” the tengu general runs up to you two, “I am not trying to protect them. I simply have a suggestion that may please our creator more than a lifeless corpse.”

You’re tense in Xiao’s grasp. You consider struggling, but your limbs betray you. You don’t even dare to breathe.

“We are both making our way to Stormterror’s Lair to see our great creator, right? Why not take this imposter prisoner and see that they feel the full gravitus of their crimes? We should see that they suffer under their own guilt and disgust for copying our creator’s face.”

You’re mortified by her words. You don’t want to hear any more. You don’t think beyond that as you start running, yanking yourself out of Xiao’s grip and running down the small slope. You should have known that it would be futile. Against an adeptus or tengu alone, winning would be impossible. Your odds are only made worse when a thin blue string suddenly wraps around you and Yelan suddenly appears before your eyes.

“Oh no you don’t.”

“Hmph.” Xiao looks at you in scorn. If looks could kill you’d be dead three times over under the gaze of these beloved characters.

You’re not sure you want to meet this “creator.” If they’ve ordered all the main characters to execute people based on looks alone, you’d hate to see what they do themselves. Then again… if they look like you, they could be your twin. But your twin isn’t that cruel. They can be a massive idiot and way too resentful at times but not murderous.

Then again… it only makes sense that you get the shitty side of this fate and your sibling gets the wonderful role of playing god. You swear that’s how it always happens. You always get the short end of the stick.

You squirm in your bindings and wince when they automatically tighten around you, digging into your skin.

“Stop resisting,” Sara is stern as always, “we should take them to the creator. It only makes sense for them to give divine punishment to such deceitful beings.”

“No. We shouldn’t bother them with such lowly scum.”

“...what if the creator gives them mercy?”

The two generals turn towards the spy.

“We should take this one to the creator. That way they can let everyone know what their decision is. If we execute this person now, when the creator would have spared them, then we’ll be the monsters.”

“But–”

“Xiao. I know. I don’t want this bastard to get away with this either. It’s revolting that anyone would have the audacity to try and mimic our supreme god, but this is the best decision. If we are punished for wasting the creator’s time, I will take full responsibility. Now come on. I don’t want to wait to see them any longer.”

Yelan tugs on the line, and you start walking behind her, fearing what might happen if you don’t comply.

Xiao holds his tongue and follows. He could easily teleport and make his way to Stormterror’s Lair, the creator’s chosen home, easily. But he wants to keep an eye on you, even if looking at you makes him angry.

Sara walks alongside Yelan, they briefly exchange greetings and introductions before going silent. All three of you travel in silence until you make it to the intersection where you can see Dawn Winery down the way, where you run into some of the Knights of Favonius.

Amber looks shocked to you, and Lisa’s vision starts to glow. Kaeya doesn’t even pass a witty quip. He and Diluc share the same serious, angry expressions.

You really have attracted everyone’s ire.

You look away from them. You wish you could disappear. You just wanted to find your twin. Now you’re walking towards your own execution at the hands of those you imagined to be your friends.

You try to speak to them, try to say something in your defense, but Kaeya shuts you up with a simple threat.

“Open your mouth again, and I’ll freeze your tongue all the way down to your stomach.”

You look down at your feet. You want to cry.

The journey to Stormterror’s Lair is long. You’re not used to walking for so many hours. You trip and stumble a lot more as time goes on. Diluc scoffs at your lack of coordination. He probably believes you’re doing this on purpose, trying to slow them down to prevent your ultimate demise.

Things aren’t perfectly silent anymore thanks to Lisa, who casually talks to the others. You can’t help but feel at ease by their voices. You loved listening to their voice lines, sometimes their battle lines got tiring but hearing them talk as real people is oddly thrilling and makes you happy. It’s especially comforting to feel the tension ease after being put under the heat of their stares.

You trip and fully fall over as you reach the entrance to the ruins of the city. You struggle to get back up with your arms pinned behind. Diluc seems to have had enough with you as he hulas you up, but instead of setting you on your feet, he throws you over his shoulder.

“C’mon. We’ve been delayed long enough. We should cover ground faster this way.”

You assume the others nod, because you hear nothing before you feel a sudden lurch and then wind blowing past you as your carrier starts running.

They make their way into the city quickly. You feel dizzy as you’re jostled around.

They make their way into the central tower, and you’re dropped on the cobblestone.

You look up to see that the tower has changed greatly. It’s no longer in ruins. It looks like a real palace. Banners hang against the columns, a hanging chandelier, and a large circular rug at the center. Most important of all are the archons standing next to the giant dragon who is laying on the rug. D’valin almost looks like a house pet, curled up on the rug.

You marvel at the sight. Zhongli, Ei, Venti, Nahida, even the Tsaritsa. She’s even more beautiful than you imagined.

As you follow along the dragon’s body you realize that there’s someone tucked under his wing, reading a book. That someone… They look just like you.

So the acolytes weren’t lying. Their great and marvelous creator is practically an exact replica of you. Except they have slightly different cheekbones, and their nose isn’t the same shape. This is definitely your twin.

You cry out their name and are instantly hit with a blast of ice.

“Who dares speak the creator’s name?” Zhongli’s rich, deep voice echoes through the tower.

You can feel the hairs on your neck stand up as electricity crackles in the air, which becomes restless as the winds pick up.

“We bring an imposter before you—,” Sara begins.

“Why do you waste the time of our great creator with such scum?” Even though she’s insulting you, you can’t help but be enchanted by the Tsaritsa’s voice.

“That’s what I said,” Xiao mutters.

“I deeply apologize if I have made a mistake, but I felt the need to bring them before the creator to ensure that the correct decision was made. I have heard the many stories of the creator being merciful to their enemies. I have also heard the many recallings of their strength and power. I did not think it appropriate of me to make such a decision on their behalf. Once I know their decree, I will never bother them with such a trivial matter again.”

You can’t help but feel amused and annoyed by all of this formality and praisal towards your twin. They certainly don’t deserve to be treated like a god when the last interaction you had with them was them bullying you about how you built your team and characters. You want to tell these poor people about all the times your sibling was a massive asshole to you. Tell them that they might as well be buying snake oil from them if they truly believe them to be their creator. Neither of you had anything to do with the creation of Genshin. They’ve got the wrong people.

Then again… if you mentioned that, you both might be executed.

You sigh, forgetting you’re being heavily scrutinized and thus are kicked in the stomach.

“How dare you act disappointed in the midst of our highest god.” It seems Xiao is finally getting his chance to take his anger out on you.

Why? Why aren’t they doing anything? Why aren’t they saying anything? Don’t they care that you’re being beaten up by these people?

You’re hauled by your biceps only to be dropped once again, but this time only a few feet from the archons.

The bindings dissipate.

You force yourself onto your hands and knees. You look up and see them all looking down on you. A deep, soul shaking shudder goes through you. Your twin looks distressed, but they say nothing.

Then…

I’m sorry

They mouth.

The Raider Shogun’s cold voice reaches your ears, “Let it be known that all imposters will be executed on sight.”

Vines climb up through the cobble and wrap around your arms and legs. You’re stuck in the position on your hands and knees. The stone quakes beneath you, and the temperature in the room drops. You feel the air start being sucked out of your lungs, the water in your body is painfully forced out of your pores, and your insides heat up. You aren’t even conscious by the time the Musou No Hitotachi comes down on you, ensuring that you don’t awaken from the darkness.

A tear rolls down your twin’s cheek. They can’t bear to watch you be executed.

Again.

But it’s the greatest mercy they can grant you.

At least you get to wake up.

At least you get to go back home.

Unlike them.

They’re trapped in this game.

Chained to a throne.

You always come back.

But they’re determined to make sure you don’t get trapped like them.

They hope one day they’ll be able to make it back out to you.

They at least want to share one more birthday with you.

One happy memory to help them endure every time they have to watch you be murdered by their…

friends.

#genshin impact #sagau #genshin x reader #ei #zhongli #venti #the tsaritsa #yelan #Diluc #Kaeya #Lisa #amber #Xiao #genshin #creator au #genshin sagau #blog asks #raiden shogun #kujou sara #imposter au

[oh-its-souichi]

Orochimaru x Reader

- I had this idea and typed it in a rush, its pretty vague but 😅 hope ya'll like it-

Losing you was agony.

Watching you die was torment

The way you bled out before him, you gentle eyes never once leaving his face. You were smiling at him, you werent happy, though. It wasn't a smile of joy but one of pity. Pity because you knew what was going to happen once you left him.

Orochimaru stared down at you with baited breaths and a searing pain in his chest. "What can I do!" He yelled for the first time since he was a child feeling true panic, true fear. "Y/N what do I do!" He screamed. You tenderly reached your hand to him, collecting what little strength you had left for the gesture. He turned his head and slammed his fist on the wall. "You were always weak, it disgusting how fucking weak you are!" He screamed involuntary tears flooding out of his eyes, he felt intoxicated, things around him becoming less and less real with each slow breath you took. He flipped around to look at you, to continue beraitment, but your hand was dropped and your eyes empty, inanimate.

He sighed, the breath shakey and unsure like the reality he now inhabited now that the frame of his life had gone. He collapsed down onto his kness and brought his hands to his head, twisting his fingers into his long black hair, gripping the strands tightly to somehow elevate the overwhelming pain washing over him.

He stared at your dead face and sobbed. He didn't want to love you. Never intended to lean on you so heavily, but he did. The two of you had met as children. At a spring festival, you were prancing around admiring all of the flowers. He came across you and was revolted by your happiness, disgusted by the pure smile you flashed him. He fell for it though, and you snaked your way closer to him, sinking your fangs into his neck. He loved you. He wanted to protect you. You were the fiber that made up the last string of his humanity.

Now you lie dead before him, your beautiful hair spilled out around you, and that gracious smile gone, replaced by the ugly stench of death. He started dragging himself towards you. "I'll fix you," he sniffled. "I'll fix you." Collecting your limp body into his arms he walked off deeper into the dark forest.

....

That was ten years ago. He was a grown adult now. A different person. Orochimaru walked calmly down the stone hallway to the room at the end of it, closing the door gently behind him.

This room, in comparison to the rest, was dauntingly beautiful. There were flowers and plants everywhere, the smell of life in the air. It was more vegetation than structure, and at the center of it all was you, floating gracefully in a preservation capsule.

He approached the tank and painfully smiled. "My love," he seethed. "It will work this time, i know it." There was hesitation in his voice, and he lowered his eyebrows in pain. "Will you still look at me as you did once you realize what I am?" he said, wondering for a second if he was making the right decision.

A knock sounded at the door, and he no longer held that thought. Kabuto opened the door carrying a girl into the room. "Where would you like her, my lord?" He asked, and Orochimaru gestured to the table at the far side of the room, and he complied, laying her gently down.

"I am going to merge them in the tank, a gusion of such." Orochimaru and Kabuto turned his head curious at his masters sudden willingness to share. "Oh?" Kabuto replied "This girl is still living, wont the fusion bring about a hybrid of the two?"

Orochimaru flashed his eyes at him, shaking his head. "No, to simplify, I'll remove the parts of that girls brain that involves emotions of personality, so it does not interact with hers." He said, looking again back to you. Kabuto nodded. "I suppose we should get started then, if I may, my lord." Kabuto slid open the drawers attached to the operating table, admiring the blade of the scalpel he removed. Orochimaru did not stop him, noticing an anxiousness blossoming in his chest.

....

After the operation, Orochimaru turned off the lights to your room and closed the door. Locking it behind him. He would not know how the fusion worked for a year. Your body needed time to regulate and get used to its own amenities. The months that proceeded left like a slow march through the desert. He busied himself with a side quest, finding news things and people to occupy his mind, but when the day came, he found himself running down the hallway and throwing open the door.

He flicked the lights on and rushed to your tank. He placed his hands on the glass and looked anxiously to you. Your eyes were open, and you were looking around, your eyes finally meeting his after moments of searching.

A gentle smile came to your face, and you reached out to him. He found himself returning the expression. "Welcome back, my love," he hissed, typing the coordinates in to unlock you from your cage.

#orochimaru x reader #orochimaru #naruto fanfiction #naruto #anime fanfiction #naruto shippuden

[soilaluna]

— i gave you all that i had (but it wasn’t enough). . bonten!mikey ft. f!reader . heavy angst, alcoholism, sexual themes, manga spoilers, toxic relationship . 2.2k

happy hour. you give up on trying to mitigate your misery with endless tv zapping and stop off at a local bar near your place. the offered beverage is bland but the prices are modest enough to let you afford your discontent every time you require it.

it's all you've known for the past year —a dreary round of eating, working, getting wasted, and trying to sleep. an exhausting routine that has stripped you of your essence and transmuted you into nothing but an empty shell. 

so, like most nights, at one o'clock you sit on the bar stool with your figure slumped against the counter.

you stopped cracking peanuts half an hour ago and fully devoted yourself to getting as drunk as possible (appetizers can't sweep away your sorrows but ten glasses of cheap bourbon will).

you take your fifth bourbon in one smooth shot and ask for another. the bartender mumbles something you can't quite fully grasp because you're too busy grousing about the lights above you (how the fuck do they get more blinding with each drink you down?)

upset, you groan and hide your face between your arms, slapping your forehead against the wooden surface. 

then, “bad night?” a velvety voice caresses your ears. 

you peek at the owner with a side glance. he wears a tight-lip smile and you can't help but mimic it. his’ is seductive, yours is mocking.

fool.

you make your first assumption of the night: he isn’t from around. 

if he were, he’d know that the party’s always over once you arrive. he’d know he’s better off anywhere else than by your side cause you’re more of a nuisance than a blessing. 

you think of telling him to fuck off for a merciful second but... he's there. right next to you. attractive, warm, and inviting and you can’t resist the temptation of finding out just how far can you push things this time. 

cause you’re so fucking lonely.

so you straighten your back and try not to slur as you ask, "aren't you going to invite me for a drink?"

your eagerness doesn't go unnoticed as the stranger chuckles. his eyes rest briefly on your empty glass. or your cleavage (you don’t really care enough to notice). 

"you want more, baby?"

you almost grimace at the pet name. he’s so horribly predictable but you're desperate enough to let it slide.

instead, you flaunt a pleasant smile. pretty and submissive, they like you better like that. "yes, please".

his lips shift upwards into a victorious grin. he immediately lifts two fingers toward the barman.

you’re going to fuck him, you think. somewhere not far from there. maybe the back of your car. maybe in a sketchy, cheap, and dirty motel room. the only question is how you’ll get there. if you’re lucky enough to get there.

but you’re not a lucky girl (when have you been, honestly?)

“she’s fine. you can fuck off, man.” 

ah, just in time.

you almost laugh at his revolting punctuality. flirty-guy next to you isn't so diverted by the sudden ill-mannered guest.

"what did you say?" he counters, taking a stand. 

you rest your chin on the heel of your palm and sigh. you feel your headache intensify. the barman stops and watches the scene unfold, face shadowed with qualm as he holds two glasses full of liquor in his hands. 

you throw a hushed ‘pst’ in his direction and he glances at you. you nod at the glasses and wave your pointer finger back and forth. ‘keep ‘em coming’. so he slides one of them over the counter to your hand.

from the corner of your eye, you see sanzu open his vest and flash his gun to the guy.

the macho staring contest ends right there.

defeated, the man in front of him slaps a couple of bills over the counter and bids goodbye once he receives the message. he throws a look at you over his shoulder as he walks away — half-disgusted, half-ashamed. ‘sorry’ you want to yell but it’s not your fault that things turned out this way (not entirely, anyways). 

you're quick to bury your guilty feelings in your drink before reaching for the other one. you're willing to down it too but your new pink-haired companion beat you to it.

“that’s enough,” he orders as he snatches the glass from you. a few drops of alcohol manage to fall on your hand and you quickly pick them up with your tongue like a wretched, thirsty stray.

"party pooper," you grumble, rolling your eyes.

you look to your right, avoiding sanzu's gaze. you expect to see at least someone else seated beside you (a replacement, hopefully, for guy number one) but find no one, instead. then, you look a little further —and there's not a single soul in sight. music no longer blasts through the speakers.

it’s still dirty, and messy but the place is fucking dead.

you turn abruptly to sanzu and raise an eyebrow in question. sanzu throws a half-smirk in your direction. an answer. one that you pick up immediately and abhor.

shit.

you try to dart but your legs get all tangled and you trip (maybe it was the alcohol, maybe your desperation kicking in). sanzu is quick to grab your arm, steadies you, and throws you back to the stool as if you were just a rag doll.

"tch, he already knows you're here so stay put, bitch," he barks.

sanzu despises you. he's never told you explicitly so but he isn't hard to read: he's mikey's left hand and yet, far too often, he's degraded to playing babysitter.

and he's aware that him being mikey's most trusted man has everything to do with him being in charge of you. he's supposed to be ¿honored? but working as a cock-blocker must be a lot less fun than ramming a gun into someone’s head, you suppose. 

he hates you.

he hates your power (that you didn't ask for).

and he hates what you represent (you don't blame him, you hate yourself too).

your head starts pounding. the alcohol is starting to wear off too soon. you search for the barman cause there's no way you're doing this not fully wrecked (when was the last time you did something sober anyways?), but he's nowhere to be seen.

and sanzu, who was just a second ago by your side, has disappeared like a shadow in the night.

a tragic revelation.

hell’s bells, irony blows.

your antagonist is standing at the other end of the bar.

how long did it take him to get there? how long has he been staring at you in silence? 

you turn your head to the front. you try to ignore him. you really do. but his eyes are screaming at you. you feel pressure on your head (and one on your heart) and you can't help but scoff and inquire:

"so you're just going to observe me in silence like some fucking creep?" you ask, staring straight ahead.

mikey utters no word as he saunters toward you. his heavy boots echo in the now empty place (he’s used to this, bringing death to where there used to be life).

"at this rate, you'll leave me friendless," you bleat, when he doesn't answer.

then, he deadpans: "men like him are not your friends."

a breathless chuckle leaves your lips, "oh and you are?"

you feel him take a sit next to you. against your better judgment, you turn your head and look at him.

you really take a look at him this time.

the tips of his hair brush his shoulders, and the dark circles that used to ring his eyes have dissipated. he doesn’t smell anymore like stale cigarettes and yesterday’s beer. he's no longer the spitting image of his dead half-brother.

he looks better.

and that would've lit a flame of hope inside your chest if you didn't know that picture by memory.

he's always managed to look fine. so as long as he didn't allow a single glimpse of his slowly-rotting core —not even to you.

"i do care about you," mikey assures, not even a little sheepish.

(you think he's full of bullshit).

"you have a funny way of showing it."

"you know that—"

"yeah, yeah. it's better like this, i'm safer. blah, blah, blah," you spit.

you heard it all before. and time may pass but his speech remains the same as on day one.

he left you, but he didn't really leave you behind. he uses and abuses his power to find you. bribing third parties, emptying bars at his will.

(oh, how you wish to return to the old days when the most harmful thing he did was to throw stones at random thugs).

his so-called need to protect is suffocating and demeaning.

mikey's girl.

mikey's girl.

mikey's girl.

they whisper so when sanzu —or whoever fits for the job— spooks away every suitor who approaches you.

you're isolated. lonely. and still deeply in love with the major source of your pain.

your chin wobbles and you take a deep breath before you speak again, "i'm fucking exhausted, mikey. you say you’re protecting but look at me!” you choke on your words. your hands collide flat against your chest. rage and aching mix all together in your body.

your pointer finger shakes in the air as you lift towards him, “and this is not on me. i'm a wreck but this... this is you. it's you not letting me go. i-it’s you glued to me like a fucking shadow. you say you love me but you're destroying me."

he sits there immobile for a beat too long. and you think, this is it. he's finally given up (finally, mercy).

your suffering won't end here but you have to start somewhere.

anywhere.

you dare to lift yourself from the chair with hope. you try to walk away but he catches you by the arm and presses you against his body. you trash in his arms but, ultimately, it’s impossible to fight him. you can’t resist the warmth of his skin that bleeds through his shirt, and you can’t dismiss his hushed sorry’s against your ear as he tries with all his strength to keep you by his side. you see his effort, you sense his desperation and he seems to share your anguish.

so you stay.

because maybe, just maybe... “let’s go home.” you beg in a whisper over his neck. your hands are gripped together tightly behind his back. you don’t want to let go. you won’t let go just yet.

mikey presses his nose against the top of your head and sighs. he doesn't answer. he gifts you a peck, softly nods, and takes your hand.

you follow him in silence, your eyes fixed on your linked palms. it’s been a while —far too long. and though memories splash your foggy mind, his touch feels fresh —no, not fresh, foreign (he's not your mikey, hasn't been in a while) (but you're so wretched that you'll accept him as he comes, even if it destroys you).

he directs you to his car, opens the door, and lets you in. you want to say something more once he settles into the pilot’s seat but you find yourself too exhausted and tense to find the words.

(mikey chooses to stay silent as well).

you don't need to remind him of the way back home. he's driven down the same road hundreds of times. and you remember it well: the wind in your hair, your arms around his core, hands flat against his chest. velocity, romance —invincibility. you were infinite. untouchable.

he promised no one would hurt you as long as you stayed by his side.

(he never told you he was the only one allowed to destroy you).

"don't leave me," you mutter, once you feel the car stop.

"don't leave me," you beg while he carries you inside your apartment.

the pillow under you is chilly. you reach out to him, and your hand grazes his skin. "please, don't leave me."

it's your last attempt. you don't care if he stays for pity, you don't mind if he lies once again. but you need him by your side, you should've never parted ways. you belonged to each other. you've always had.

mikey's stiff back is all you see.

you wait.

it could've been seconds, it could've been minutes. it felt like an eternity. but mikey finally breathes, "ok".

the weight of the world dissapears from your shoulders.

mikey lays down next to you and you welcome him into your arms. his head rests over your chest, and his arm goes around your stomach.

peace. you're both at peace, at last.

half an hour ago, this scenario seemed impossible. and now you were embracing each other, reminiscing when you were nothing but two teenagers in love.

you wish you could go back to those times.

you once promised you were going to marry him.

yet all you've done is try to save the last bits of the sano manjiro you once knew.

"will you stay with me forever?" he asks. his voice pierces your skin.

you don't even think your answer, "of course i will."

#v.writes #sh1tty and rushed ending but i had this in my drafts since forever #and i wanted to publish it #fvck it #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers x reader #sano manjiro x reader #sano manjiro x you #sano manjiro angst #mikey x reader #mikey x you #mikey angst #tokyo revengers angst #sanzu x reader