#he also said he wants to grow out his hair | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

berry-potchy · 2 days

Text

Dad's Best Friend!Miguel part 2

Summary: Your dad shows up unannounced, interrupting your romantic dinner with Miguel. He plants seeds of doubt in your pretty little head that Miguel is more than happy to snip off

Tags: DBF!Miguel x F!Reader, age gap, college age reader, P in V sex, size difference (smaller reader), brief under the table footjob, spanking, insecurities, vague mention of Miguel’s past relationships, uncomfortable relationship talk with your dad who means well but ends up making you feel like shit anyway

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Surprise! The second part actually exists. It’s been almost a year since part one and I kept teasing part 2 but I couldn’t think of a way to end it. I considered just abruptly cutting it off and post it but I just couldn’t do it. BUT HERE IT IS NOW. Hope you guys still enjoy it!

Part 1

It has been a week since Miguel has caught you masturbating to the thought of him. A week since you found out that he wanted you just as much as you wanted him. A week of absolute depravity that you thought only happened in porn. He fucked you all over the house; no room, furniture, or surface was left untouched during your vigorous lovemaking.

Unfortunately, his “sick leave” had to come to an end and so did your self-imposed break from uni. He’s going back to work the next day so you decided you were going to do something special and make the most of the last evening of his leave. Of course, there’ll be more times to fuck but you feel the need to give him something special before he goes back to his workaholic mode. Maybe it’ll encourage him to start coming home earlier.

You had everything planned. You and Miguel had a lovely early dinner that he helped you prepare. The way it was so easy to fall into a domestic routine made your heart flutter. You’d have to ask him if you can do this with him more often when he’s not so busy with work. You also had wine that Miguel picked out for both of you. You trusted his mature tastes even though you knew he preferred hard liquor. And for dessert, well…

“That’s it, gatita,” Miguel grunted in your ear, a deep growl rumbles from his chest as he rams his fat cock relentlessly into your greedy cunt. “Taking my cock so well. I’m gonna miss this when I’m at work tomorrow. Gonna think about your tight little pussy while I’m in a boring meeting.”

You can’t form any coherent words from how aggressive his thrusts were. Each thrust drove his cock deeper into you, his tip kissing your cervix, knocking the air out of your lungs and the words out of your little cock drunk brain. Your legs were wrapped around his waist and your arms holding his broad shoulders for support, hands desperately clawing at his back. You clung to him tightly as he fucked you standing up in the middle of the kitchen. He took full control of your body, his large hands on your waist, moving you up and down his cock as he pleased, like you’re his personal living cocksleeve.

“My little slut can’t even talk anymore,” he laughs at your pathetic whimpers and whines “Taking my cock like a good girl. Going to make sure you feel it until tomorrow.”

You bury your face in the crook of his neck panting, mumbling “please” over and over again against his skin. Your tits are pressed against him, sensitive nipples rubbing against the dusting of dark hair on his chest with every movement. The burning knot in your stomach is threatening to come undone.

“You’re gonna cum for me, princesa?” he said as his thrusts grow frantic. “Wanna feel your pussy milk my cock dry. She’s so greedy for my cum. Sucking me in so good I can’t even try to pull out.”

You arch your back as you feel your orgasm rip through you, making you see white for a second. Miguel catches you, an arm around your waist and the other around your shoulders to keep you from falling over as he keeps on rutting into you to chase after his own climax. He pulls you closer to him to capture your mouth into a kiss as you feel his hot cum coat your velvety walls. You moan against his lips, giving his tongue access to your mouth, making you melt in his arms.

You reluctantly pull away to catch your breath, resting your sweaty forehead against his. He coos at how absolutely wrecked you looked, the pretty makeup you did for him all smeared and messed up. The red of your lipstick is no longer on your lips but all over Miguel – on his lips, cheeks, neck, chest, trailing all the way down to the red ring near the base of his cock.

Miguel sets you down on the dining table, hands keeping your knees apart to watch his cum dripping out of your sloppy hole. Your hands grab your breasts, squeezing them together for his viewing pleasure. Miguel moans at the sight. You are so perfect to him.

“I’m going to see your dad again in the office tomorrow,” he says, kneeling in front of your spread legs, ready to eat his dessert. He licks his lips and rubs his large hands up and down your thighs “I’m sure he’s going to have questions. I’ll make sure to tell him how good you were, taking care of me and making me feel so much better.”

He was about to dive in when the doorbell rang. You hear him growl a string of Spanish curse words under his breath as he reluctantly stands up from where he was kneeling. He tries to calm down and you sit up to wipe the sweat and lipstick off his face. You help him put on his shirt, straightening it out as much as you can with your hands as he tucks away his half-hard cock in his sweatpants. You brush his messy hair back away from his forehead, trying to make him look presentable for when he answers the door.

“I’ll be quick,” he sighs, kissing you on your temple as he pulls away and walks out the room. You can’t help but be a little curious as to who is looking for Miguel this late in the evening. You try to stand up, snatching the silk robe you were wearing earlier to peek at the visitor when you hear an all too familiar voice echo in the halls.

“Miguel! You look like shit!” The loud booming voice of your father makes you stop dead in your tracks.

“Hey, I didn’t know you were coming over?” Miguel said, trying to act normal as you hear him letting your dad in. “You should’ve called.”

“Well I did try to but neither you nor my daughter were answering,” he said “Anyway where is she? I brought you guys your favorites for dinner. I’ll even set up the dinner table for you.”

That got you to snap back to reality. Shit, shit, shit!

You start running to your room, careful not to leave a trail of Miguel’s cum on the floor. You try to wash off any traces of sex with a quick shower and change into a simple shirt and unfortunately with a bra and shorts on this time. Can’t have your dad know you parade around the house half-naked for a man twice your age.

Downstairs, Miguel’s boner is fully killed. He didn’t even get to clean you up with his tongue. Shame. Your dad is talking about work stuff but he’s only half-listening. He helps him set the table for your second dinner of the evening, not able to turn down his best friend lest he gets suspicious. He eyes a few white drops on the table and reluctantly wipes it with the hem of his shirt. His eyes meet yours as you enter the room, drying your hair with a towel. You give him a tight-lipped smile before going in to greet your dad.

You have an okay dinner together: Your dad did most of the talking, which is usually what happens between him and Miguel anyway. He also is still under the impression that Miguel was actually sick so he got a pass. You however have to pretend you aren’t annoyed that the night you planned is ruined as you answer his questions about uni.

“No boys? Partners? I told Miguel not to let you bring any around,” he says smugly to which Miguel smirks, taking a sip of the whisky your dad brought over.

“Dad, please,” you groan, sliding down on your chair, which makes him laugh out loud. You steal a glance at Miguel, pouting, and he’s laughing along. Traitor.

“I just wanted to be sure my baby’s focusing on her studies,” he says, putting his hands up in surrender before adding “and that I don’t end up a grandpa too soon.”

They keep laughing but thankfully, Miguel changes the topic. You give him a look of relief and rub your foot on his leg as a silent thank you. He keeps talking to your dad, pretending not to feel your foot stray further up until it rests on his inner thigh, the tip of your toe toying with the outline of his cock. He grabs your ankle but doesn’t stop you. He instead moves to sit a little closer to the table so you can rub the sole of your foot against his clothed length.

You’re playing a dangerous game. Your dad is right there he could look under the table and find his precious daughter giving his best friend a footjob in front of the dinner and alcohol he so graciously brought over. But you were feeling petty about your ruined plans and Miguel doesn’t seem to mind the attention to his cock.

You bite your lip, feeling his cock harden under your touch. He must feel sticky and uncomfortable under his sweatpants after not being able to wipe his dick of your combined fluids when your dad barged in. You wish your dad decides to leave early so you could get on your knees for Miguel and lick him clean.

Miguel eventually excuses himself, coughing that he needs to go to the bathroom, probably to jerk off and shower. You start clearing up the table and your dad offers to help.

“So,” he starts wiping the table “I see the way you look at Miguel.”

You freeze, trying not to drop the stack of plates you’re holding.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You start loading the dishwasher, trying not to make it obvious that your hands are shaking.

“Hey, no need to get defensive. I know what I saw,” he says “And I mean, you’re a young single lady and Miguel is this handsome, cool, older guy that’s a constant in your day-to-day. It’s not wild to have a crush on him. I’m just…”

Silence.

“Sweetie, I’m worried about you. I don’t want you to get hurt when he doesn’t return your feelings,” he sighs as he leans his hip on the counter next to you. He’s trying to look you in the eyes, trying to let you know that he’s being sincere. “Believe me that man has no time for romance. He’s all busy with his work. Plus I’ve seen the women he slept with before. All supermodel looking and yet… well they never last long.”

“Thanks for the confidence boost, dad,” you roll your eyes at him, trying hard to ignore the feeling of wanting to throw up. You don’t want to think about that. About the specifics of what you and Miguel have going on. You’re just trying to enjoy Miguel’s attention right now. For the longest time, you didn’t even think you had the chance. Is it really that bad to just accept what he’s willing to give right now?

“I’m not saying you’re not beautiful, honey! Of course, you’re beautiful! You’re my daughter,” he tries to lighten the mood but turns serious when you don’t laugh. “Just might not be his type. Besides, he’s twice your age. He's too close to your old man’s age. Are you sure that’s something you’d like? In a few years, he’d be just as uncool as me while you’re still young and should be enjoying your life.”

He puts a hand on your shoulder and pulls you into a side hug. You both stay silent for a few moments. You think about Miguel and try to look for signs. Signs that say he just wants sex or that he wants something more. All you can think about is how sweet he always was with you even before you had sex. Even more now. You blush remembering how Miguel peppered your face with kisses this morning to wake you up because he wanted to cook breakfast but didn’t want to leave you in bed.

“Okay, but what if he does?” you countered, suddenly gaining a bit of confidence. “Would you be okay with that? If we get into a relationship?”

A painful few seconds of silence that felt like forever.

“I know that look in your eyes,” he finally says, shaking his head, and sighing. “It’s your “I’m going to get what I want” look you got from your mom. You’re gonna get hurt.”

You cross your arms and pout, never one to back down.

“And if he does end up liking you,” he starts again and you side-eye him “well… good thing he doesn't.”

You groan as your dad messes up your hair, laughing as he sees Miguel come back, fresh from his shower. Your dad finally decides it’s time to head out and let the sick man rest. He gives you a tight hug and a kiss on your forehead before leaving.

You’re left alone with Miguel again in the kitchen. The earlier conversation with your dad soured your mood and left you zoning out. Miguel slips himself between your parted legs as you sit on the kitchen counter, large, warm hands kneading your thighs, fingers slipping under the hem of your shorts.

“What’s on your mind, princesa?” He leans in to press his forehead against yours. “Tell me.”

You try to turn away but he brings a curled finger under your chin to make you face him. His brows are furrowed, worried. You try to look at him and your heart stutters. You don’t want whatever you have with him to end. You’re not sure if you actually want something serious with Miguel but the thought of just being a bedwarmer to Miguel is upsetting.

“Just thinking,” you start, trying to get the words out without sounding jealous or spiteful “My dad said you used to date? Sleep around with? Whatever. The girls you were with before were all… supermodel looking. They’re probably tall and skinny and drop-dead gorgeous huh? Is that your type?”

“And where is this going, nena?” Miguel whispers, pulling away and giving you a stern look.

“Well, I’m just not like that?” you say sheepishly, pursing your lips and shying away from his gaze. “I don’t know why you gave me the chance. I’m just-”

Miguel’s gentle touch on your chin turns into him gripping your cheeks, making you shut up. You nervously look at him, a deep frown on his face.

“Don’t you ever put yourself down, cariño,” he says, his eyes sharp. He makes you keep your eyes on him while he uses his other hand to pull you closer, making you wrap your legs around his waist. “You know, at the start, I offered to let you stay here just because I wanted to mentor you when I had the time. I know you’re a brilliant girl, so intelligent, following in your dad’s footsteps. What I didn’t expect is for you to consume my thoughts day and night for the past few months. You’ve grown into such a beautiful lady, cariño. You are such a temptation, making me think about your pretty eyes looking up so innocently at me. Those lips tempt me every single time you pout at me to get your way.”

He growls, finally letting go of your face to move his hands to your ass. He suddenly bucks his hips against yours making you gasp out loud, your clothed cunt rubbing against his growing bulge. You try to move your hips to gain friction on your throbbing cunt but he keeps you still.

“Don’t even get me started on this body of yours,” he buries his face at the crook of your neck, kissing, licking, nipping at the sensitive flesh making your head roll to the side to give him more access “So perfect for me. Made for me to grab, to fuck, to worship. Dios mio, nena, I can’t get enough of you.”

He sounds drunk from your scent and taste, mouthing at your neck, hands kneading your flesh. He grabs handfuls of the soft fat of your thighs, your ass, your tummy rolls, your plump tits, and back down, committing each curve to memory. You wrap your arms around his neck, eyes rolling to the back of your head in pleasure when he laps at your pulse with his skillful tongue.

“So I don’t wanna hear any of that nonsense comparing yourself to women I didn’t care about then and I sure don’t care about now,” he growls as he picks you up and flips you around. He bends you over the counter, stomach against the cold marble top and the rounded edges digging at the tops of your thighs. Your feet can’t quite reach the floor so you settle for trying to wrap your legs around Miguel’s own. He yanks your shorts and panties down to your knees in one aggressive motion.

“My silly beautiful girl getting jealous over old flings and exes,” he hummed, his large hands massaging your ass, kneading the cheeks, spreading them with his thumbs. “They’re not here anymore, are they? Didn’t work out with them and they’re not in my life anymore. And I prefer it that way.”

You feel him spit on your hole, dripping down to mix with your own wetness. You drop your head onto the countertop, the heated skin on your face making the marble feel icy. He takes your wrists, securing your hands behind your back with his own large hand while his other still massages your ass. Your eyes flutter, enjoying the sensation when you hear a loud smack cut through the momentary silence.

“Mig-” you yelp as you feel a sharp sting on your right ass cheek. His hand goes back to massaging, trying to soothe your reddened skin. You whine as he gives your other cheek the same treatment. Two matching red handprints bloom on both your cheeks.

“You shouldn’t be listening to your dad about my type when I was much younger,” he says, his voice low and serious as he leans down to press his sculpted chest on your back “Because right now there’s nothing I want more than this pequeña prinscesa whose toes can't even reach the floor when I bend her over the kitchen counter. You love that too don't you? How I’m much bigger than you? How easily I can carry you around, bend you over, and fuck you whenever I want? Love folding you in half and using your pretty pussy- no, my pretty pussy. This is mine. Mine to fuck. Mine to breed. Isn’t that right?

You nod enthusiastically not trusting your voice to speak. the words he growls at your ear going straight to your cunt. You feel another hard smack go down your ass, the impact making you slide a bit on the counter. His hands pull you back by the waist to press his erection against your dripping cunt, your wetness soaking through his sweatpants.

“Use your words when you answer me, nena,” he growls, grinding himself against your folds. The friction from the fabric of his sweatpants feels heavenly against your puffy folds.

“Yessss,” you whine, pushing your ass back against him “all yours. Need you to fuck this pussy please, please, please!”

“How can I say no when my baby girl is begging so nicely?” he coos, pulling down his sweatpants to free his cock. He takes it in his hand and presses the tip in. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull as your velvety walls welcome him back, still stretched out from your earlier activities.

“Perfect,” Miguel groans as he wastes no time to fuck into your slutty little hole that’s sucking him in so lewdly. “Made for me. Mi princesa needs to learn that no one can compare to her. She’s so perfect. And she’s mine. Only mine. And I am hers.”

“Yo-urs– M-ah, Miguel,” you whimper as he keeps hitting all the right places, his tip hitting your sweet spot with each hard thrust until you’re once again pushed over the edge of sweet release. Your gummy walls contract, milking Miguel’s cock as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. He follows shortly after with a deep moan, his cock coating your insides with his warm seed.

Miguel makes no move to pull out. Instead he peppers your shoulders and neck with kisses, humming in contentment, whispering sweet endearments. Your heart fills with warmth and before you could even think about it, the words just leave your mouth.

“I love you, Miguel”

Silence. Anxiety starts to bubble in your chest as you start to think that you’ve read all the signs wrong. But before you could take it back, Miguel turns you to lie on your back, facing him. He leans down to capture your lips in his, his hands pulling you closer as if he was afraid you’d leave if he lets go. He mumbles “I love you” against your lips over and over again for the rest of the night making sure you never doubt his feelings for you ever again.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel ohara #potchy-writes #dbf!miguel #dad's best friend miguel ohara #dilf miguel ohara

219 notes · View notes

megistusdiary · 2 days

Note

Hellooo! I absolutely adore how you write Arle!! It's really hard to find Arle with fem reader so Thank you so much for feeding the Sapphics. You are a heaven sent to us! 😔🫶

If you still accept request, what if reader and Arle are going out on a date, maybe a walk in the park and suddenly there's this little boy interrupting them and offering reader a little flower and said that she's pretty and when he grows up he wants to marry her 🥺 and I feel like Arle's lowkey gonna tell the little boy that it's not gonna happen, I just think it's cute seeing Arle having a little beef with the child, Thank you so much! I hope you have a wonderful day!

Also if it's okay can I be "🦋" anon?

i'm glad you enjoy my interpretation of arle ♡ i'm just happy to make content you all enjoy

(i have been trying to post daily since it is pride month even though work is so eughhhh)

i hope this was okay 😓

(fluff utc. NO SMUT)

arlecchino always held your hand so gently while you walked beside her. as if you were a doll made of glass, her clawed nails never scratched you, nor did she ever allow her flames to burn your skin.

she kept you close to her, especially on your walks. everyone knew you were arlecchino's lover, there was no doubt.

though, much to her irritation, it seemed these obvious signals didn't register to children.

"hi, miss!"

her head tilted down, a cold gaze cast over to a young boy holding a flower out to you. her eyes flit to yours, lips downturned at your gentle expression.

you let go of her hand to kneel to his height, gently taking the flower from him and she frowns. from the corner of her eye she can see who she presumes is his mother, clearly trying to flag him back to her.

"you're really pretty, miss." he smiles at you, causing you to lightly pinch his cheek.

"you're very sweet." you praise him, observing the pretty pink flower carefully. "you have an eye for flowers! this is beautiful."

"you're very beautiful too!" he blurts, clearly excited and shy as you smile. "will you marry me one day?"

as much as she cares for her children, she does not like anybody getting in the way of her personal time with you. "that's not going to happen." she answers for you, watching you straighten up next to her. "she is to be my wife."

the boy's mother immediately scoops him up and away, apologizing to the harbinger who merely brushes it off finally. "it is...fine. children have such fascinating imaginations, don't they?"

the mother awkwardly smiles and scurries off, and arlecchino watches you admire the flower.

"he was just a little boy." you tut at her, grasping her hand. "he didn't mean any harm."

"he interrupted our walk."

"he doesn't know any better, and, besides: you have me all to yourself, you know?" you lean on her shoulder and she sighs.

"i am aware."

you bend the flower so it can fit behind her ear, tucking it into her hair perfectly. "absolutely gorgeous."

she sighs, still irritated, but with a racing heart from your abundant affections.

#🦋─ 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯⋆.ೃ࿔#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #fem reader #genshin wlw #arlecchino x reader #genshin arlecchino #arlecchino x y/n #arlecchino x you #arlecchino #💌─𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘭! ༊*·˚#💐─𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘴 #🪷─𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘴 `♡´

170 notes · View notes

chan-skz · 3 days

Text

Makeup - Bang Chan

His fingers were delicate. He was so close to you, you weren't used to such closeness. You prayed he couldn't notice the growing blush on your cheeks, as his gaze was focused on your makeup. You made the mistake of leaving your house without an umbrella, not having bothered to check the weather forecast, thus finding yourself stuck in the rain, ruining completely your hair and makeup.

"You're so stupid." Chan said slightly coldly, tearing his gaze away from you for a short moment to change accessories. You pouted, crossing your arms. He wasn't wrong, you should have thought better.

You decided to ignore his comment, watching him cleverly place a bit of the concealer against the back of his hand and lightly tap your beauty blender against it. At least you had the decency to bring your makeup bag with you. “I didn’t know you knew how to put on makeup.” Speaking of makeup, you didn't even know that he was an expert on that either.

"Don’t judge me, but I watched several videos just in case my girl friends needed help. And also I sometimes had to retouch my own makeup behind the scenes during concerts." He added calmly with a small grin on his face. But his expression quickly returned to focus as he began to apply the cosmetic on your skin. "So yes, I can manage to do it. I'm telling you all that because by the look on your face, you look rather surprised."

The sweet smile he gave you made your heart race. But you pushed all feelings aside, you had no chance. Not only was he your friend, but also an extremely coveted man. After all, how could such a perfect man be attracted to someone like you? So many girls would dream of being in your shoes right now. He could easily get girls much more beautiful and experienced than you in a snap of a finger.

"Are you okay?" He snapped you out of your thoughts, his gaze boring into yours. You nodded slightly, smiling softly at him. “From the way you look, you’re clearly not okay.”

You tried to reassure him but he cut you off directly. “Do you want me to make you feel better?” You stare at him, not knowing what his next move. Before you could even retort, his face moved closer to yours. "Can I?" His gaze was fixed on your lips. You didn't know what to say. Your face was red like a tomato, you slowly nodded it. This was the last thing you would’ve expect from him.

His lips were soft and delicious. Kissing your own friend had never been on your bingo of the year, but here you are, sharing a soft kiss that he himself had requested. Quickly, the makeup was forgotten and the kiss became more intense. Your arms wrapped around his neck and his hands came to grip your hips.

Suddenly he withdrew. "I forgot you had makeup on. Sorry I didn’t want to ruin it for you again." It was clear he didn't mean it. Seeing your lipstick ruined turned him on so much, but was he even going to admit it to you?

You laughed, knowing that this heated exchange had already done it. "You're telling me that when it already happened. Look at yourself in the mirror, your lips and the area around your mouth are completely stained." You wanted to kiss him again when you saw that it was his turn to be flustered by your comment. You took this opportunity to tease him even more.

“You know, you can ruin my makeup however you want and even further.” You smirked lewdly, gently sliding your hand down his chest to his crotch, clearly insinuating your desire for more than a kiss. In a flash he took your hand and pulled you towards another room. It all happened so quickly that your brain only registered the fact that you were now on his bed, him leaning against you.

“Say that again?” Now you were the one being humbled. You didn't expect this turnaround, even less from him. He had always been the shy type, although sometimes he could be bold. It was all part of his personality, but right now the person you were facing wasn't the same Chan you knew.

Suddenly you lost your voice, you didn't dare look at him, feeling ashamed.

Before you could even open your mouth, you felt his lips exploring your neck. A small moan escaped your lips when he coincidentally found your sensitive spot. You couldn’t help but wrap your legs around his hips and arms around his shoulders, pulling him as close to you as possible. Doing so, you could feel his bulge against your core.

“Fuck don’t do that, baby. If you keep provoking me I won’t be able to hold back any longer.” He said in a deep voice in your ear. His tone gave you chills and he felt it. You were going to retaliate, but before you could even get a word out of your mouth he pulled away from you and knelt between your legs. His hands firmly grabbed your panties and a dirty smirk crowned his face. "Silly me, I completely forgot that you gave me permission to ruin your beautiful makeup. I’ll be happy to do so and honey, forget my words, I’m not going to hold back on you.”

#skz smut hours #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #chan stray kids smut #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #skz chan smut #skz x reader #stray kids bang chan #chan smut

196 notes · View notes

lenislenii · 2 days

Text

𝐑𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬, 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐫𝐲

Synopsis: teasing him? Tsk how foolish Warning: Brat Taming, Degradation, edging, p in v but no female pronouns are mentioned! NSFW MINORS DONT INTERACT Author's note: this man does stuff to me, love u anon!!

Calcharo x gn!reader

request: Brat taming with calcharo from wuthering waves pretty please<333

You only wanted to sneak for a festival for a little, to tease your partner, after all Calcharo seemed like a busy man how bad could things turn? Right......wrong.

You we're taking a walk on the forest, collecting fruits for the upcoming spring also because soon the city was gonna have a festival and you wanted to make some food for the people, Cacharo wasn't a party person so when you told him you we're going he tried to convince you to stay but to no avail you ignored.

Your partner didn't like your misbehaving in the slightest, you should listen to him and stay, not go to a sad excuse of a festival to share....food?

Calcharo observed with a frown on his face, you walked closer to him the pink cherry blossoms dancing with the wind "I'm done, let's go home" you smiled, he scoffed but began walking back to your shared home together "Honey should you really go to that festival?" he asked a frown on his face.

"Calcharo we spoke about this before, i'm going you like it or not" you smirked as he gave a small "tsk" oh how you wish you knew how bad you've messed up with those words

. . . . .

The time to the festival came you dressed a beautiful dress made your hair and makeup "why are you dressed up so nicely to give out food on the festival?" you smirked "nothing, is a festival can't you see? i need to be- wait!" your chest was pressed against the wall, your partner smirked.

"what? what happen with the attitude that you had a few minutes ago darling? don't look to cofident now" *he said with a deep voice that made your legs go weak.

"C-calcharo hm! let me go, i'm gonna be late" you whined "fuck that festival, you can't listen to a simple order now you will suffer the consequences." he said smacking your rear stealing a yelp from you.

he ripped that dress off of you with his teeth, the dress falling on the floor, rolling your hair on his hand making you look at him "i'll make you behave, whore." that made you whine as he threw you over his shoulder "i can walk you know!" you scolded "after i'm done with you, i'm sure you won't."

As you reached the bedroom you yelped knowing what was coming, he puts you on the bed, the white haired sat on the bed as he told you to lay down on his lap, you complied "now...count with me"

Slap

"one..."

Slap

"t-two"

Slap

"three"

Slap

"fi- no w-ait i mean f-four"

you whined feeling the wetness between your legs growing "tsk, we just started and you're already failing? let's restart and this time no more second chances ." he warned, the process repeated itself, until you reached twelve

"t-twelve!" you moaned at the harsh slap "wrong..darling it was eleven" he said with a smirk taking you off his lap, you heard him unzip his pants.

"Now let's go to the fun part, one moan and i'll stop and leave you wanting, do you hear me baby?" he smirked as you nodded "all fours fast" he commanded as you complied, he grabbed lube putting some on his own member, he slowly removed your underwear throwing it somewhere on the room, his fingers played with your pussy lips and clit, teasing you, you bit your lip trying not to moan, as he kept his little game on your private part he smirked "good, see is not hard when you know how to listen to orders"

you feel the head of his cock touch your lips as he thrusted inside you with no warning, you let a yelp slip "tsk, can't praise you so soon can i?" he said "you wanna be like that fine" he said moving his hips fast and with force making your head spin "C-calchar-" he grabbed your hair "who?" he smirked as he noticed the small tears on your eyes "s-sir!" you moaned "ngh~ please" the man let his head fall back with a chuckle "good"

As you were close to your climax he quickly pulled out with a smirk making you whine at the loss "nuh uh whore, you don't deserve to cum after that behaviour, now hold on pretty"

He was sure that after he was done with you, you wouldn't step onto that festival again.

Reposts are appreciated!

#calcharo #wuwa #calcharo x reader #calcharo x you #wuthering waves x you #wuthering waves #wuthering waves x reader #wuthering waves smut #calcharo smut #calcharo x you smut

151 notes · View notes

tj-dragonblade · 2 days

Text

[FIC] Customer Service

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Rated: E Word Count: 4460 Tags: Human AU, Mechanic Hob, Rich Guy Dream, Dream of the Endless is a Horny Little Weasel, class dynamics, as a kink perhaps, sweat is sexy, so is automotive grease apparently, scent kink, oral sex, no deep throat, just normal skill-level bj, face-fucking, not rough, coming in mouth, facial, dirty talk, hand job

Notes: Originally inspired by this post and also for the Day 5 prompt 'dirty' for Dreamling Week 2024 organized by @mr-sadman

Summary: Mechanic Hob's just trying to fix the rich guy's Porsche but the rich guy is looking at Hob like he's a five-course meal

On AO3

It's hot, in the garage.

Hob's got the windows open, fans at strategic points to stir the air, but it's still warm enough he's stripped off beneath his coveralls and left them open to the waist, only his underwear beneath. It's just him in today, replacing the clutch on the rich guy's Porsche; technically he could be working naked if it weren't for the possibility of customers dropping in. And it's warm enough he's tempted.

The Porsche is secured up on the ramps and he's on his back on the creeper half underneath it, singing along with the retro rock he's got playing on the shop speakers as he works, when suddenly there's the sound of a throat being loudly and deliberately cleared and a nudge to his foot.

"Bloody—" Hob starts, fumbling the wrench without dropping it and grabbing the side of the car to scoot himself out. "What—?"

It's the rich guy, Mr. Ateleíotes, and Hob is abruptly conscious of the figure he cuts, sprawled on his back with a wrench in one hand, legs splayed and his coveralls open, no shirt, sweat and grease smears all over him and his clothes.

And his greasy fingers planted on the pristine smoky-grey paint job of this guy's car.

Oops.

"Don't worry, I'll give her a good cleaning 'fore I give her back to you—"

But the guy's not even looking at where Hob has dirtied his Porsche. His eyes are fixed on Hob, or rather, they're sweeping over his body, lingering on his exposed chest, the grease smears on his torso and the sweat-damp trail of hair disappearing into the open vee of his unzipped coveralls. It's a tangible gaze, and Hob can feel his body responding as the guy sweeps it back up to his face.

He's as pretty as Hob remembers, prettier with that hungry look in his eyes; porcelain-pale skin, artfully-messy black hair, casual tailored black suit with the jacket open and Hob swallows, feels his body flushing under the attention.

"I am sure you will." That voice is as pretty as Hob remembers too, deep and melodious and captivating. He speaks, and Hob wants to drop everything and listen. "I was in the vicinity, and thought to stop in, to see how the repairs are progressing? No one was at the desk."

"Uhm." Get it together, Hob. He sets the wrench aside, sits up, which puts him eye-level to the guy's crotch and oh, hello, he's not the only one with a growing 'problem'. "Yeah, 's just—just me today. Repair's coming along as expected; should be ready for you tomorrow." He stands as he speaks, grunting with the effort. "Clutch replacement will be done before I leave tonight and then I'll do the full tune-up in the morning, so. Like I said—by tomorrow afternoon." His eyes drop to the guy's lips and he jerks them back up, licking his own lips briefly. He shifts his stance, cocking one hip, acutely aware of his open coveralls and how the zip doesn't come together until a good three fingers beneath his navel; he drags the back of his arm across his face, shoving sweaty hair off his forehead and leaving a smudge of grease behind, not blind to the way that blue eyes darken as they follow the movement. "Is there something else I can do for you today, Mr. Ateleíotes?"

He only half-meant it to sound like a come-on; it's a perfectly plausible customer service question, but he's also seen half a dozen pornos that start just like this and Mr. Ateleíotes certainly seems interested. Hob's a professional and not about to proposition a customer outright, but if possibilities are on offer, he's not one to let them pass him by.

"There is, indeed, Mr. Gadling," Mr. Ateleíotes purrs—and Hob's dick jumps as the guy reaches to touch him, one pale fingertip tracing through his chest hair, through the grease smear just below. "The mechanic repairing my car, he is absolutely. Mouthwatering." He casts a molten glance up through his eyelashes. "And I would very much like. To suck. His cock." He rubs his thumb against his finger, spreading the grease between the two, and smiles at Hob, simmering and invitational. "Might your shop accommodate such a request?"

Fucking hell— Hob takes a sharp breath; the heat of the shop and the concentration of blood away from his brain are doing him no favors and he fears for half a delirious second he might pass out, but he rallies quickly. "Absolutely," he grins, dick throbbing. "We are a full service garage, after all. Did you want to see about that now, or make an appointment?" He winks.

"Immediately, please," Mr. Atelíotes replies, and there's a spark in his eye, a glint of delight at Hob's carrying of the customer-service bit, and Hob is giddy with it all.

"Right then, let me just clean up real quick—" He's pulled a greasy rag from his back pocket, which won't actually do much but take off half a layer while he heads to the shop sink, but a slim pale hand on his arm stops him.

"No. As you are now, please." The guy steps closer, hungry and intent; Hob's pulse trips into double time.

"I'm kind of filthy though?"

The guy's blue, blue eyes glitter darkly. "I am aware, yes." And then those slender hands are curled in the open edges of Hob's grimy coveralls and the sinful pink of his mouth is pressed up against Hob's.

The sound Hob makes is a little embarrassing, but then there's a supple tongue slipping in next to his own and Mr. Atelíotes gives his own little moan and that's alright then, the guy's a damn good kisser and Hob finds it's really easy to stop caring about dignity in the moment. He surges into the kiss, hands coming up and hovering, painfully aware of the dirt and grease that clings to him and the probable price tag of that tailored suit.

"Touch me," Mr. Atelíotes says, flush against his mouth before kissing again, and it is very much not a suggestion.

Hob pulls away just enough to answer. "Sorry, my hands—don't want to mess up your clothes, love—"

Mr. Atelíotes grabs both of his hands by the wrist and, much to Hob's shock, plants them firmly on the pristine white of his shirt under the suit jacket, guides Hob's grease-stained fingers to clench in the fabric. "Touch me," he repeats, low and heated, winding his hands back beneath Hob's sweaty hair. "Dirty me, dirty my clothes, my skin; I wish to be. Marked by you, stained, with your ardor—"

Hob whimpers, just a little, clenches tight around the fistfuls of now-sullied fabric and pulls him back into a kiss.

Mr. Atelíotes makes a sound of approval, maneuvers him around the front of the car and presses forward, backing Hob against the bonnet. His hips push insistently into Hob's and the feel of his hard-on in those tailored trousers is so fucking gratifying; Hob grinds against him in return, still kissing fiercely, and fumbles at the placket of the ruined shirt.

"Can I unbutton you, love?"

"You needn't ask permission," the guy pants, both hands around the back of Hob's head, his mouth dragging wetly along Hob's jaw. "The shirt will not be salvaged." His teeth latch onto Hob's earlobe, joined next by his tongue, and then warm lips ghost over the shell of Hob's ear, a low murmur following after. "Tear it from me, if you like."

Hob would like, very much, and so he does. He realizes that he has perhaps made a mistake as he hears the buttons pinging and bouncing in every direction; he will never find them all and in the back of his mind he imagines Matty returning from his trip home to the states, asking why he keeps finding these pearly buttons all over the shop, staring Hob down with his beady little all-knowing eyes while Hob burns with the mortification of being Known.

But that is a problem for future Hob; present Hob is occupied with reverently smoothing his unclean hands over the snowy-white skin exposed beneath the torn-open shirt of the gorgeous man who wants to suck his cock. The shirt took a lot of the surface grease but there's still enough on Hob's hands to leave grey-black smudges across the guy's smooth chest that seem to turn him on as much as anything else Hob is doing, which. Okay. Not even close to the strangest sex thing he's ever encountered, and he can definitely work with it.

"God, you look good, sweetheart—" He smooths his hands around bony ribs, smudging dirt and grease and grinning warmly as the guy's eyelids droop almost imperceptibly. "Bit of grime suits you, I think—"

He's cut off as Mr. Atelíotes kisses him again, hot and wet and demanding. Hob's very sure that he's been slotted into this rich guy's fantasy of slumming it with the working class, and that's more than okay too. He'll gladly play it up; not like he's never entertained that sort of idea himself.

He sucks in a breath when the kiss breaks at last. "How am I so lucky that a posh pretty thing like you wants to get your knees dirty for me, hmm?"

"It was not my intention when I arrived," the guy says, panting, forehead resting against Hob's. "But then you rolled out from beneath my car. Gleaming, and. Dirty. And I could think of little else."

Hob chuckles, shivers as slender hands delve back into his sweat-damp hair. "No complaints from me, darling. Delighted that all my natural glory does it for you."

"Dream," Mr. Atelíotes says, fingertips scratching lightly along Hob's scalp.

"Uh?" Hob blinks, not sure quite what he's meant to do with that word.

"My name," Mr. Atelíotes clarifies, leaning in to mouth wetly beneath the corner of Hob's jaw. "Call me what you wish, I am not averse to your endearments—" his tongue takes a path down the sweat-damp curve of Hob's neck "—but should you like to use it. My name—" his lips drag up Hob's throat, over the cleft of his chin "—is Dream." He plunges his tongue back into Hob's open mouth.

"Dream," Hob manages, when he's let up to breathe a moment later. "Beautiful name for a beautiful man—"

"Silver tongue," the guy says, nipping hungrily, helpessly at his mouth. "Such uses I have in mind for it…"

"I'm game, love, anything you like," Hob breathes, enchanted with the possibilities. "Sure you just wanna suck me off? 'Cause you talk like a bloke who'd like to get proper fucked."

That earns him a full-body shiver and a sharp inhale. "I would very much like to be fucked by you, Hob Gadling, in this garage, over this car. But as I did not have the foresight to prepare for that possibility, I will content myself with having your prick in my mouth and your hands in my hair and my name on your lips when you spill."

"Fucking christ," Hob swears, as Mr. Atelíotes—Dream, as Dream slides to his knees in his neat tailored trousers on the dirty shop floor, lips dragging down Hob's stomach as he goes, hands following behind. He glances back up as he reaches the zipper, smiles coyly as he grasps it and draws it all the way down so the coveralls flag completely open down past his crotch. Hob makes no move to take them any further off; Dream has shown no hesitation to tell him exactly what he wants up to now and Hob figures if he wanted them off-off, he'd say so.

Dream curls his fingers in the waistband of Hob's underwear and pulls it low, reaches around to tug it down past his arse cheeks so it stays put and dips into the front with both hands to draw Hob out. Hob shudders at the touch, bites his lip with a stifled sound and leans back on the bonnet. Dream just smiles wider.

"You are as magnificent as I had hoped," he murmurs, cradling Hob's cock to his face, delicately kissing the tip. He grasps it underhand and pulls it down, laves the flat of his tongue along the thick vein on top from crown up to base in a long slow lick, exhales his pleasure on a decadent moan. He reverses his grip, points Hob's dick skyward and nuzzles into his balls, breathing deep. Hob has a flash of self-consciousness—he's been working all day in a shop with no AC, he's got to be a bit ripe—but Dream doesn't seem offput in the least. Rather the opposite, in fact; he buries his nose in Hob's sweat-damp crotch with another moan, mouths wetly at his testicles and sucks each in turn. "Exquisite," he declares to the base of Hob's cock, and drags his tongue lovingly up the underside all the way back to the tip.

Hob's never had his dick worshipped quite like this, he thinks feverishly, every muscle in his thighs and buttocks tensing and flexing against the car as Dream mouths and licks at the head of him with all the enthusiasm of a kid on a melting ice lolly. The heat of the shop and Dream's attentions to his dick have him panting, covered in a fine sheen of sweat, trembling with anticipation as Dream finally opens wide and takes him in.

It's so fucking good, the soft wet warmth enclosing him, the slide of plush lips down his shaft and back up, again, and again, and Hob is so, so grateful to be in the right place at the right time. Never had he imagined he would find himself here, leaning back against the bonnet of some rich guy's Porsche with that self-same rich guy on his knees on the dirty shop floor, pretty pink lips stretched around him. Dream sucks with skill and enthusiasm and his tongue is positively magical and he's really into the eye contact, gazing up adoringly like having his mouth full of Hob's prick is all he could have wished for when he woke up this morning. It's heady and exhilarating and he's so fucking beautiful, looking at Hob as he glides up and down, hands wrapped around Hob's hips beneath his coveralls, and Hob. He's not always the brightest but he's definitely caught on to the theme of this tryst by now, and Dream's face is entirely too clean.

He lifts a thumb to his chest, smears it through the grease still adorning him there, lowers it to Dream's face. He watches as Dream's eyes widen, rubs a light smear of black across Dream's cheekbone and smiles at the way Dream's pupils dilate, the way Dream whines around his cock. He strokes his other hand through Dream's hair, gently holds him still, drags his greasy thumb down along the corner of Dream's mouth stretched wide around his girth; that earns him a whimper and Dream shivers, eyes fluttering briefly closed. He sucks harder, tongue flicking delicately against the tip, eyes pleading now with Hob, and he takes Hob's free hand, guides it to rest in his own hair like the other. Hob takes the hint, holds Dream's head still in both hands and gives a gentle roll of his hips; his cock slides out of Dream's mouth and back in and that's. Yes. Another roll of his hips, out and back and Dream whimpers and fuck, but it's good—

"God you're gorgeous," he moans, carefully combing his fingers through Dream's hair, heat blazing in his belly as he watches his dick sliding between Dream's luscious lips. Dream is making the sweetest little sounds now, cheeks flushed beneath the grease stain, eyes heavy-lidded as he gazes up at Hob like this is everything he could have wanted; he drops his hands to undo his belt, to pull himself out and start stroking, and that's just. That's it.

Dream splays his free hand across Hob's thigh over the coveralls and Hob fucks, careful and shallow, driven by the view before him and the thought of how they look together and the hungry eager noises Dream makes around him. He can feel himself climbing, soaring up to his peak, sweet and steady; the hot-wet slide in and out of Dream's mouth and the way his tongue wriggles along the underside on every stroke are making short work of the journey and Hob is panting out sharp desperate grunts and moans as it looms closer and closer. His balls are drawn up tight and full and he's close, so close, and he can't just—he's got to give him warning—

"Dream, sweetheart, I'm about to pop—"

But Dream only moves his hand from Hob's thigh to wrap around Hob's cock and doubles down on whatever he's doing with his tongue, and Hob moans, hips stuttering, Dream working him masterfully up to the crest; helpless, with a breathless grunting cry, Hob tips over the edge.

Dream takes the first shot of his come with a delighted little moan and then quickly pulls off of Hob's dick as he spurts again. It lands across Dream's face, white against the black smears of grease; the next shot falls a little shorter, half on his cheek and half in his open mouth and then Dream is diving back onto his cock for the rest, sucking hard with a desperate needy little whimper. The tip of his tongue worries at Hob's slit in search of every last drop and Hob groans, body clenching and spasming again and again to give this insatiable hungry creature everything that he wants.

But at last he has nothing left to give and his cock is shrinking from Dream's ravenous mouth, overstimulated by the way Dream still nurses at the tip, the grip Dream's got around the base of it. Firmly but gently Hob flexes his hands in Dream's tousled hair and eases him back, off. Dream gazes up at him, flushed and heavy-eyed, panting with his shirt and suit and trousers open, stroking himself steadily.

His tongue curls out to lick Hob's come from his upper lip, and his smile is sultry, hungry.

"Get up here, beautiful." Hob pulls Dream to his feet, slides a hand around the back of Dream's neck, smears his come liberally across Dream's grease-stained cheek with his thumb on the way. Dream's mouth opens and Hob plunges in, kissing him fiercely, tasting himself with a heady sort of satisfaction. Being wanted feels so good, whatever the reason.

Dream is still stroking himself, his easy rhythm speeding up, fist bumping against Hob's hip each time, and Hob breaks the kiss after a moment. "D'you want me to suck you off?"

"No, no—but touch me—" He seizes Hob's hand, brings it down to his own dick.

Hob hesitates for half a second—scrubbing automotive grease off your chest or hands or even your face is one thing; scrubbing it off your dick would be quite another and he's not interested in putting Dream through that sort of grief. But his hands have touched enough in the last fifteen minutes that all the easily-transferable grime is gone; it's really just the deeper-level staining going on and a bit of heavy petting shouldn't create a problem. So he takes Dream in hand, slides his other arm around Dream's back for support and strokes his lovely cock with relish, claims his sticky mouth in another kiss.

Dream whines into it, eager and open, and brings his hand to Hob's chest. He plants it in that grease smear that's still got some substance to it and splays his fingers wide, spreads it around like it's lotion and okay, maybe it is kind of hot Hob decides. Maybe it'll be a bitch to clean up but he's not about to stop the gorgeous creature in his arms from making a bigger mess of his body hair if it's getting him off. He's enjoyed being the fantasy this pretty posh thing needs, is still happy to play his part until the end.

He starts stroking a bit faster and breaks the kiss, drags his lips across Dream's messy cheek to his ear.

"God I'd love to fuck you, spread you open and pound you senseless, leave my dirty handprints all over your pretty white arse—"

Dream makes a raw little sound of want and buries his face against Hob's throat, panting open-mouthed. He smears his greasy hand down Hob's torso again, slips it around beneath the open coveralls, fingertips sliding into the sweaty dip of Hob's spine, hanging on as Hob works him up to the edge. His other hand clings to the grimy fabric at Hob's shoulder.

Hob flicks his tongue along the shell of Dream's ear, a soft tease, speaks again. "I would make such a sweet sweet mess of you, darling, fuck you until you've had enough and then pump you so full of my come that it runs down your beautiful thighs—"

"Hob—"

"Sure I can't get my mouth on you?" Hob tightens his fingers around Dream's cock, stroking faster, caught up in the thrill of the fantasy he's spinning. "I'll bet you taste amazing, Dream, especially after I've had my filthy hands all over you—"

Dream is tense in his arms, breath shallow and rapid and he shakes his head, trembling. "Hob—ahh—Hob—" He dips, pulling the shoulder of Hob's coveralls aside and nudging desperately beneath their edge until he finds Hob's armpit; he mouths at the crease of it, wet and open with the most wanton little sound. He inhales and whines, high and sharp and short; he gasps out another whine, and another, higher and more urgent each time and then he is coming, head lolling back with a broken cry as he throbs and pulses in Hob's hand.

Hob pulls his cock tight, lets Dream shoot all over him, his arm and his belly; he keeps his other arm around Dream as he sags a long instant later, forehead falling against Hob's shoulder, panting, spent. Dream's hand twitches against Hob's spine and his fingers drag sensually slow around the curve of Hob's waist.

Hob wipes his messy hand on the side of his coveralls—best he's gonna get right now—and then curls his knuckle under Dream's chin, tipping his pretty face up.

"Alright then?" he asks, as those gorgeous blue eyes blink open, and Dream gives the faintest nod into Hob's gentle touch.

"Mmh." His face is soft, sated and open and inviting what with the way his lips are parted, and Hob can't quite stop himself dipping in for a kiss.

Dream welcomes it, meets him halfway with mellow eagerness and Hob sighs into it, awash in his own post-orgasmic high. This kiss. This kiss. It's sweet, and languid, and god but Hob could lose himself in it, in the thought of keeping this guy.

Dangerous, that.

So he breaks the kiss at last with a grin, then steps back and pulls his underwear up where it belongs again. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up here." He moves toward the shop sink, hums a little distractedly along to the music on the speakers that has just filtered back into his awareness.

Dream follows, but makes no move to clean the smeared grease from his skin.

"No, I think not," he says, in that low effortlessly-sensual voice that plucks quivering notes of interest all along Hob's spine even now, in the aftermath. "I should like to carry your marks home with me." He takes up his pristine shirttails and wipes his hands deliberately on them, eyes on Hob all the while.

It's not his business if Dream wants to show up at home dirty and disheveled with his shirt torn open and looking absolutely debauched; maybe he lives alone and there's no one to comment, maybe he wants to flaunt his dalliance in the face of a parent or sibling or servant or who knows—no concern of Hob's at all, he reiterates, but damned if the idea of Dream proudly showing off the mess Hob's made of him doesn't turn him right the hell back on again.

"As you wish," he says, but plucks one of the many sample-sized bottles of Matty's favorite Orange Goop off the shelf and holds it out. "But take this with you; whenever you are ready to clean up, it'll be a big help."

Dream takes the bottle, slides it into the pocket of his trousers, which he has just re-fastened; he draws his suit jacket together over the ruin of his shirt and buttons it, making himself semi-presentable for his drive home. His eyes linger on Hob, however, on grease-smeared chest hair and the remains of his own orgasm on Hob's belly, on the shape of Hob in his underwear where he still hasn't bothered re-zipping his coveralls.

Dream's eyes flick up to Hob's, dark with banked heat.

"I really ought to learn more about the proper care and maintenance of this vehicle," he says, ostensibly about the Porsche, but his gaze stays fixed on Hob. "Will you be working alone tomorrow, as well?"

Hob hooks his thumbs in the pockets of his flagged-open coveralls, lets his hip jut forward just a little. "Yeah, Matty's out all week, so it's just me for a couple more days."

"Then perhaps I will. Arrive early, to pick up my car, and you can show me your best techniques for finishing the job."

The warm weight in his tone, the smouldering heat of his gaze, the way he'd talked earlier about getting fucked over the bonnet—his intent is crystal clear, and Hob is one hundred percent on board.

"Brilliant plan," he says, with a broad smile, and Dream's lips curl sweetly in response.

"Should I book an appointment, to ensure your availability?"

Hob waves a hand dismissively. "If you like, but it's not necessary? Just show up when it's convenient and I'll fit you right in." He winks.

"Truly, you take excellent care of your customers." Dream's smile is positively feline at this point.

"I'm just delighted I can help you out with all your maintenance needs." Hob lets a hint of mischief seep into his own smile, just enough to promise this pretty posh thing that coming back is definitely worth his while.

Dream's eyes lower and he inclines his head, an old-fashioned little bow of farewell that suits him perfectly. "Then I will see you tomorrow, Hob Gadling. My thanks for your…irreproachable service."

And he sweeps back out of the shop, Hob watching him go every step of the way.

= Started: 5/4/24 Drafted: 6/1/24 Posted: 6/4/25

#TJs Fics #Dreamling #Sandman #Dreamling Week 2024

142 notes · View notes

freshlove-sturn · 24 hours

Text

house on the cape.

based on last friday’s video bc im obsessed with it. (events that happened in the vlog may not be in order just so the story flows how i want, also might add or get rid of some things for that same reason ofc). definitely gonna be multiple parts if yall like it so please let me know!!

summary: when the triplets come back home from la, they reunite with their favorite summer tradition, staying in the house on the cape. amidst all of the familiar laughter, and reminiscing on old memories, y/n can’t ignore the feeling stirring in her heart. something that went deeper than friendship. as she grapples with the fact that her feelings for her lifelong best friend, matt, are more than what’s just at the surface, she must learn to navigate and balance the unspoken feelings, and the gut wrenching fear of risking it all.

a/n: sorry guys but i think im scrapping all my old fics. i just have lost interest in them and i dont want to give yall something that i just half assed yk. i just need something new 😖🙏 don’t hate me pls. also i didn’t proof read and i never do so hopefully this all makes sense LMAO

……………………..

“BOYS TRIP!” chris shouts through the house.

the triplets are back in boston from being in la. i’d be lying if i said that i didn’t wish that these visits would last forever. being across the country from my best friends sucked.

“oh yeah , and you’ll be there too. you’re one of the boys.” chris points at me, smiling before loading the car with our bags.

“chris please never say that again.” i cringe, but fail to keep in my laughter.

“i agree. that was disgusting.” nick chimes in.

“just wanted to make sure you know you’re included.” chris throws his hands up in defense.

“thanks.” i smile and shake my head before getting in the car.

we were staying at their house in cape cod, something all of us looked forward to each summer growing up.

we arrive at nate’s house to pick him up. after the group effort of showering him in compliments for his new hair cut, we get back in the car.

sandwiched between nick and nathan, i check the time on my phone. nick grabs my wrist and moves it out of the way to give himself a better view of my lock screen.

“that is such a cute picture.” he says admiringly. it was a picture of matt and i. the picture was taken from behind while matt gave a piggy back ride back to the car because my feet hurt from wearing heels to madison’s concert.

“you took it.” i laugh.

“i know. i really out did myself huh.” he hypes himself up. i smile and roll my eyes.

once we get to the cape house, we unload the car. all of our bags scattered haphazardly throughout our respective rooms. the same rooms each of us have stayed in for years. nate with chris, nick with matt, and me, having been the only girl, with my own room.

“let’s go to the beach!” nate walks out into the kitchen, clapping his hands together.

…

the beach was just within walking distance. matt and i fell behind the rest of the group.

“i’m so glad you’re back.” i tell him.

“me too. i missed you.” he replies.

“i missed you too.” i admit. “a lot.” i look up and meet his eyes. we just stare at each other for a second. we didn’t really need to say anything. it was almost just a mutual understanding that each other were our favorite person.

if only he knew the extent.

the only person i’ve confided in about my feelings for matt was nate. which was precisely why he kept shooting me knowing glances anytime matt and interacted. nate swore that he knew i was in love with matt for years, before i even knew myself.

i can’t exactly pinpoint when i fell in love with my best friend, but i do remember when i realized.

flashback

matt and i sit together in the hammock string between two large oak trees in the backyard of the cape house. the gentle breeze swaying us back and forth softly. the sun was going down just to the right of us. beautiful pink and orange hues paint the sky.

“i could stay right here forever.” matt breaks the silence that had fallen between us.

“me too.” i reply softly.

“oh hey i have something for you” he digs his hand around in his pocket and pulls out a baby pink seashell. he hands it it me.

“i’ve never seen a pink one like that before.” he tells me as i admire the gift.

“me either. i love it. thanks matt.” i smile sweetly at him.

“of course.” he returns the smile.

i feel the heartbeat in my chest racing and my cheeks heating up. the feeling i had been carrying around with me for quite some time became abundantly clear.

i was in love with my best friend.

when i got home that night, i tied a string around the shell, and wore it as a necklace. and i haven’t taken it off since.

end of flashback

that was back when we were 16. 4 whole years i’ve gone hiding my biggest secret from the one person i told everything to.

our gaze was interrupted by chris. “jesus, yall are some slow pokes” he hollers back at us.

we both laugh and pick up out pace.

soon we arrive at the beach. i’ve always loved the beach. it truly is my happy place.

especially when i’m with matt.

nick snaps pictures here and there.

“oh my gosh matt look! this is just like your tattoo!” i hold out a shell to him.

“oh shit you’re right.” he holds out his arm, revealing his tattoo.

“that’s sick.” chris admires the similarity while nick takes a picture.

…

later that night, we all sit in the living room debating on what movie to watch.

“chris im not watching planet of the apes again. we’ve watched it like 9 times already.” nick argues, shutting down chris’s pleads.

“how about grown ups?” matt suggests.

“yes i love that movie.” nate agrees.

“that’s fine with me.” nick shrugs and starts typing it in.

“is that good with you?” matt leans down to where i was sitting in front of him, his voice soft and genuine.

“yeah that’s good with me.” i tell him.

he smiles and pats the spot on the couch next to him, gesturing me to come sit up there with him. i stand up from my spot on the floor and sit down next to him. he drapes a blanket over the both of us.

about an hour or so into the movie, my eyes get heavy. i lean my head on matt’s shoulder, to which he responds with wrapping his arm around me. this was nothing out of the ordinary. there’s pictures going back to when we were in preschool of the two of us practically fused together passed out on the living room floor.

suddenly, a gentle shake of my shoulders woke me up from a sleep i hadn’t even known i fell into. my eyes flutter, slowly regaining focus. when they do, i’m met with matt’s gentle blue eyes.

“hey, you wanna go lay down in your bed? i don’t want your neck to be sore.” he asks, genuinely concerned for my comfort.

i look around, everyone else appeared to have gone into their rooms.

“yeah i probably should.” i say through a yawn.

matt grabs my hand and helps me stand up from the couch. we walk down the hallway. my room came before his and nicks.

“goodnight matt.” i say, slowly turning the doorknob.

“goodnight y/n. see ya in the morning.”

i toss and turn in bed, unable to fall asleep. i stand up from bed, and leave my room. slowly making my way to the kitchen to get a drink, careful to not wake anyone up.

i open the fridge and grab a water. before i can take a sip, i hear a familiar voice behind me.

“can’t sleep?” the sudden breach of silence made me jump a little. i turn around and see matt. he was leaned up against the door frame. his sweatpants falling dangerously low on his figure, his arm under his shirt itching his shoulder, exposing his midriff.

“nope. you?” i set my water down on the counter.

“hm mm” he replies.

we stand in silence for a few moments before matt breaks the silence again.

“wanna go to the beach?”

….

a/n: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE LMK IF YALL LIKE THIS. SUGGESTIONS ALWAYS WELCOME AND MY INBOX IS ALWAYS OPEN 🙏 i’m using my old taglist, so lmk if you want taken off or added to it!

taglist: @honestlybabymiracle @pepsiimaxx @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattestrella @luvmxtt @rac00ns-are-c00l4

#nick sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets x reader #chrissturnioloxreader #nathan doe #matthew sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #nate doe #space camp wellness #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader

80 notes · View notes

m-jelly · 1 day

Note

Hey! So once I requested a Levi x reader who is alergic to dust and stuff. I was wondering if you could do another one like that but instead one of the cadets didn't clean and because Levi was tired he didn't notice. But the reader is normally in the room or area and ended up passing out while working In the area. Like how would that go down. Thank you in advance. I hope your doing good, make sure you take care of yourself, eat and drink water. Also make sure to treat yourself some days and take breaks!

"How could you let this happen?" Levi's tone was sharp and frustrated. "I've told you all time and time again that you need to be on top of the cleaning here." The tapping of his boots echoed as he paced back and forth in front of the medical room. "Treat cleaning like you are taking out Titans. If you're slacking in your action someone could get hurt."

"Sorry, Captain." The cadet hung their head in shame. "I let you down."

"You did, you really did." He released a sigh and tried to control his anger. "Are you aware of what allergies are?"

They nodded. "Y-Yes, my friend can't have nuts."

"You manage to protect them, correct?"

"Y-Yes."

He needed to let out some range, so he slammed the side of his fist against the wall. "So why not this?"

"I-I."

He growled a moment before relaxing his body. "Go do your job, now."

They saluted him. "Y-yes c-captain!"

As the scout ran off with sweat pouring off them due to panic, Levi watched them very closely because he needed to let his rage wash off him before he saw you. He grunted a moment as his thoughts and heart calmed a moment.

It all had been a blur for him what'd happened. He wanted to see you and spend some time with you, you were his girlfriend and a wonderful member of staff for the team. Your role was to do admin and unfortunately, you had a bad reaction to dust, your body would just clamp up and you'd struggle to breathe a lot and your nose would block.

Usually, the cleaning was done often, but it seemed like one cadet had been slacking and the dust had piled up for weeks. Levi made his way to visit you and saw you in the office checking out files and having a bit of a coughing fit. He hurried to your aid and knew what to do to help you, but he had been a bit too late.

When you collapsed in his arms he thought his world had ended, thankfully you were breathing. He hurried you to Hange to help him keep you well and now you were recovering in a medical room. Levi once had thought there was little value to his life, but you had changed everything for him. He wanted to live so he could marry and grow old with you.

As soon he took in a deep breath he slipped into your room to see you sleeping soundly. He took a seat next to you and began playing with your hair. A lump formed in his throat as he held back the urge to cry. Compelled by his feelings, he leaned over and kissed your cheek.

A sweet little hum came from you. You opened your eyes and gazed at your teary-eyed boyfriend. "Levi?" You winced as you croaked a little. "Sorry, the coughing messed with my voice."

He caressed your cheek. "Don't ever be sorry, okay? None of this is your fault. You can't help it when you have a reaction. That room should have been cleaned and it wasn't."

"I hope you weren't too nasty to the cadet."

He lowered his head. "I said I was disappointed in them. I didn't shout too much."

You cupped the side of his face. "Good boy."

He smiled sweetly at you, his smiles were only for you. He nuzzled your hand a bit before kissing it. "I love you."

"I love you too. Come here and give me a kiss."

He leaned down and kissed you. "I guess I'll have to look after you for a while."

You hummed a laugh. "Yeah. It'll be lovely."

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a

@youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity @nbinairyn

@bts-spnlvr12 @darkstarlight82 @emilyyyy-08 @levistealeaf @pelicanpizza

@notgoodforlife @demonic-bird @searriously

67 notes · View notes

myluvrrhea · 2 days

Text

Wrapped in your arms | D.Priest

Request — Can you write an imagine about reader and damian priest being friends to lovers where they are forced to share an hotel room and she ask him shyly to cuddle and he agrees and he plays with her hair and caress her cheek

Pairings — Damian priest x Fem!Wrestler!Reader

Warnings — None just fluff

Song for this fic — Light Shower — Melanie Martinez

I felt the exhaustion hit me as I entered my dressing room. I sat down on a the couch , steadying myself and gulping damn near my whole bottle of water. I soon heard a knock at the door thinking it might have been liv, or Iyo . So I responded.

“Come in!”

But what I didnt expect was one of The Judgment Days members to come walking in. The archer of Infamy, Damian priest. He wore his classic Senor Money in the bank T-Shirt , with black leather pants and a black belt to match. I felt confused as Damian never really cane into my dressing room. Sure we were close, but he knew his boundaries and I knew his. We cared about each other’s privacy. That was That.

“Oh, Damian what are you doing in here?” I asked. The confusion evident in my voice.

“I know I never go into your locker room , but this is important. We have to room together. I mean we haven’t in the past but Hunter said something about “getting to know each other” or whatever . So why not just share right? Plus who knows maybe you’ll join the judgment day,”Damian replied a smile forming on his face after the last sentence.

I giggled a bit , trying to hide the blush that creeped onto my face. My nervousness was now clear as day as I began to fidget with my fingers. But nonetheless, I replied back.

“Hey if you want I could drive you there,” Damian spoke.

“Oh yeah..sure,” I felt my hands sweat up as I spoke.

Damian gave me a smile and nod as he left my

Dressing room, phone in hand. I sighed as I thought aboit the interaction. What did he mean when he said we fit together? Discarding the thought, I changed into more comfortable clothes ,and began to pack my stuff and head to Damians rental.

Location - At the hotel

As me and Damian had arrived at the hotel , I found his presence to be comforting and soft. So unlike his onscreen character. It was safe to say we had gotten to know each other way better than we had before. Sure we had been friends for a little over a month , but that didnt mean we knew each other like we thought we did.

Our laughs got quieter as Damian parked into the hotel driveway. That was also the point where I got into deep thought. What did he mean when Triple H said we had to get to know each other? were already friends so why? And what did Damian mean when he said I might join TJF. I cleared my thoughts as I hopped out the car, leaving Damian in a confused expression.

When we arrived to the lobby , I found one of my good friends Rhea to be sitting on one of the couches. Once she spotted me a smile formed on her face.

Me, Damian , and Rhea talked for a while but me and Damian found ourselves giggling and laughing while talking to each other. I felt my face grow hot as he mentioned how well I was at wrestling. Telling me how he loved my gear and it made my beauty stand out.

“Alright you two stop flirting with each other,” Rhea said with a smile.

“What I-”

“No we weren’t-“

Me and Damian spoke over each other.

Rhea giggled and began to get her stuff together.

“Whatever just check in. I’ll talk to you both later” Rhea spoke as she grabbed her keycard and headed to her room.

Next up was me and Damian. I was about to put my bags down when they slipped out of my hands. Into Damians. I looked at him for a quick second seeing a sly smile on his face, before checking in for our room and grabbing our keycard.

— In the hotel Room

It had only been about 15 minutes since we checked in and unpacked our stuff, picking our beds and chatting a bit. Although it hadn’t been long, I had felt safe and comfortable with him. Telling him more about my past and things I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone. I felt safe.

I felt safe with him

“Hey Im gonna take a shower we can talk after, yeah?” Damian spoke. In which I nodded in response.

After he finished up in the shower, gotten dressed and ready for bed, we found ourselves i found myself zoning out as i looked at his features.

“Hey Y/N you there?” Damian asked. Small giggles leaving his lips.

“Oh yeah I’m fine.” I responded.

Damian tried believing me, but it was the way I looked at him which made him think differently.

“Whats on your mind chica?” He asked.

“I was wondering if we could sleep in the same bed, I know it might seem weird but-“ I was cut off.

“So you wanna cuddle?” Damian asked with a sly smile.

“Yeah if thats fine…” I trailed off scared of him rejecting me.

Instead of answering, he stood up and laid facing my front. His arms wrapping around me. I felt my heartbeat pound faster as he got comfortable.

“Relax mariposa,” he spoke in a whisper.

For the rest of the night, I felt calm and safe as we laid with each other. One of his hands playing in my hair as he started falling asleep. Me softly started snoring after him.

#damian priest x y/n #damian priest imagine #damian priest x reader #damian priest fanfic #wwe x reader #wwe x you #damian priest #wwe imagine #wwe fanfiction

95 notes · View notes

phoenix-writer2 · 2 days

Text

🅼🅸🅳🅽🅸🅶🅷🆃 🅲🆄🅳🅳🅻🅴🆂

synopsis: Kenma loves to cuddle with you

pairing: Kenma Kozume x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, cuddle, late night, no prof reading, kind of short i think

Note: I just had this idea about Kenma and thought why not writing it. Enjoy it♥️

The room was silent. The moon shone like hundreds of stars at once, illuminating the large room with its healing light. Neon lights hung on the walls on the right side of the room, on the left side the lights were off.

A bed stood against the left wall. Fluffy pillows and blankets were fluffed up and a figure was buried underneath. Hair spread across the pillow, you breathed in and out deeply, listening to the all-too-familiar sounds of key clicks and mouse movements. You couldn't sleep, even though the clock screamed painfully in your ear that you had to get up and go to school again in a few hours. But still your head couldn't shut off. You turn your head and squint your eyes against the bright light of the screen. You watched as the person in front of the computer skillfully operated the keys and mastered the video game inside with precision.

Blond, black hair was tied into an unpresentable bun and the oversized sweater was pulled over her head without care or order. The light from the blue LEDs enveloped his body and made him look almost angelic. You would never have thought that this genius in front of you at the gaming table would one day be your boyfriend. Kenma always seemed like the person who never wanted anything to do with love and relationships.

He was more interested in volleyball and video games. But this was actually the reality. For almost two years now, there was something else that kept the bored Kenma alive, something he became addicted to. And that was you. Your voice, your warmth, your laugh, simply your whole presence. he had fallen head over heels in love with you and this love was growing stronger day by day.

You always knew what he needed. Whether it was affection or his rest. You were always there for him. And he couldn't be happier to have you. “Can't sleep?” His voice lit up the room. You hummed. “Too much on my mind,” you mumble and pull the blanket even further over your body. Kenma hummed. Fingers pressed the keys of his keyboard and you could faintly hear the voices of his teammates through his heasset. With tired eyes, you watched as the word “Winner” was written on the large screen.

Kenma said something into the microphone of his confidant and took the device from his ears. Your ears picked up the sound of movement and you noticed how the lights diminished. Finally, the humming of the computer stopped and there was silence in the room. A few seconds later, you heard footsteps coming to the bed and the blanket being lifted.

You sigh contentedly as you feel Kenma's warmth next to you. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he pulled you to his chest and rubbed circles on the lower part of your back with his index finger. Your body immediately relaxed in his embrace. “Get some sleep,” Kenma whispered in your ear. “I'm not going anywhere.” And with those words, the fog came over you, the smell of apple pie lingered in your nose and you sank into his embrace.

A short time later, kenma also fell asleep with you safe in his arms, as if he was afraid you wouldn't be here when he woke up. Neither of you noticed the moon, which looked down on you with its silver light like a smile and gave you its blessing. For him, you really were the perfect couple. And midnight cuddles were part of such a relationship.

Do not copy my work!

#kozume kenma #kenma #hq kenma #x reader #x fem!reader #x yn #haikyuu #nekoma #kenma x reader #kenma x y/n

59 notes · View notes

9haharharley1 · 2 days

Note

Either some hurt/comfort Pompeo or something really cute about Danny and Vlad cuddling and kissing and just being really loving with each other. Bonus on the cuddling if it's this Bender's art they did

I went with cute cuddling and kissing, but not based on any art, so I hope that's OK! I don't think I've ever written just straight fluff for these two, and I needed a bit of a pallete cleanser after the last fic. One day, I will write for Bender's art, I'm a big fan of their stuff!

---

Danny woke slowly, warm and cozy, and... exceedingly warm. His skin was starting to grow clammy with sweat, and he groaned, struggling to roll over and at least stick a foot out from under the blankets, but there was an arm around his waist that wasn't letting him move. Brow furrowing, Danny opened his eyes, blinking slowly as his vision struggled to adjust.

A pale chest, lightly dusted with little silver hairs, met his gaze, and he groaned again, squeezing his eyes closed, but not without a small grin pulling at his lips. He was torn between pushing away from the man snuggling him and burying even deeper into the covers.

The heat won.

Danny struggled a little, trying to roll over and kick his legs out, but the arm tightened around him. It kept him from moving anywhere except to squirm uselessly.

"Good morning, Daniel," came Vlad's sleep-soft voice in his hair, a hint of a smile in his tone, and Danny huffed again.

"Morning to you, too," he grumbled, smiling despite himself. "Let me up."

Vlad hummed. He buried his face further in Danny's hair. "No, I don't think I will." He feigned a snore.

"Oh, you -!" Danny barely had enough room to wiggle hid arms up under the arm trapping him, pushing at Vlad's firm chest. "Let me up, you jerk!"

"This pillow's awfully noisy," Vlad said. His other arm came up under Danny's waist, wrapping around him tight. Danny laughed as it tickled his side. "And squirmy. Pillows aren't supposed to squirm."

"Cu- haha! Cut it out!" Danny kicked and shoved, well aware he could use his powers to get free, but where was the fun in that?

He managed to squirm his way down, pressed to the Vlad's stomach, where he bit playfully. It didn't do much, but Vlad tried to grab his arms to haul him back up. Danny ducked under the blankets, barely making his escape out of the needlessly large (warm, soft, cozy, comfortable) bed. He cheered his freedom as he set a foot on the floor, only to yelp as hands grabbed his sides and yanked him back.

"Oh, no, you don't!"

Danny laughed as he fell back in bed, head falling onto Vlad's stomach. At least he was out from under the covers. A big hand found his hair, fingers combing through sleep-mussed strands. Danny rolled onto his side, one hand curled under him, the other under his cheek on Vlad's hot skin, scratching lightly. Vlad lay with his head propped on his pillow, smiling down at him.

"Morning..." Danny mumbled, grinning back. "Want to take a shower with me?"

Vlad pretended to think about it, lips pursed as he gazed in the direction of his huge bathroom. "Hm... I suppose I could."

Danny stuck his tongue out at him. "Oh, please! Like you don't want to take the opportunity to see me wet and naked."

"Well, when you put it like that..." Vlad shrugged. He tugged lightly at Danny's hair. "Come here..."

Danny couldn't say no when his lover's voice sounded so gentle at such a request. He pushed up to his hands and knees, throwing an arm and a leg over Vlad to straddle him as he crawled up the length of his body. Vlad's hand found his hair again, the other cupping his cheek, and Danny leaned down to meet him in a sweet kiss. Vlad sighed against his lips, Danny tangling a hand in long, silver hair.

"You need to brush your teeth," Vlad muttered against him. Danny snorted a laugh.

"So do you." He kissed him again.

"I also need to pee," Vlad admitted, and Danny, the little shit that he was sometimes, rested most of his weight just above Vlad's groin with a grin. Vlad groaned. "No, get off me!"

"Aw, I thought you wanted to kiss me!" Danny laughed as Vlad rolled onto his side. He let out an "Omph!" as Vlad rolled on top of him, pinning his wrists up by his head. Danny grinned. "Hey."

"Hello." Vlad's smile was so tender and sweet as he gazed down at him, and Danny felt a fluttering in his belly. He leaned up, meeting Vlad in another kiss, longer this time.

When they pulled away, Vlad bumping his nose to Danny's, Danny felt flush in his cheeks. "So... shower?"

Vlad mumbled his assent before kissing him gently again. He got up slowly, sitting on the edge of the bed and stretching his arms above him. Danny rolled onto his side to watch the muscles in his lover's back ripple, dopey smile on his face. Vlad looked over his shoulder, sticking his tongue out when he noticed Danny staring.

"You can use the bathroom first," Danny said.

"Oh, you're too kind, little badger." Vlad did another quick stretch as he stood. "I'll start the shower. Join me when you're ready."

Danny nodded, watching him walk into the bathroom, still smiling. Once Vlad was out of sight, Danny laid on his back, stretching his arms and legs out as far as he could. He sighed, comfortable, content.

Warm.

#harley writes #pompous pep #pompep #just something cute and cuddly #my writing #danny phantom #fic #thank you for the ask!!#harley answers #asks

39 notes · View notes

gatorbites-imagines · 1 day

Note

Hello! First of all I wanted to say that damn I love your fics, they give me so much gender euphoria and are so validating. Second, I understand if you feel unconfortable with this request but how do you think Homelander would react to reader's self harm scars? Since he's basically a god, I wouldn't be suprised by how a "fragile little creature" like a human could do this and why.

John Gillman/Homelander x male reader

Headcanons

idk why i chose this gif, he just looks so cute here.

I ignore how in canon hed probably be a horrible guy about it. I am a firm fanon believer.

In the beginning I don’t even really think John would register that his lover has self-harm scars, since it’s never something he’s thought about himself. I imagine he’s had self-harming thoughts before sure, but never cutting himself since nothing can cut through him.

Hes probably tried to hurt himself one way or another, since he isn’t really the best place mentally, or when he thinks he isn’t doing good enough and whatnot.

But at first it doesn’t really click for him, since he’s so unused to seeing scars since he has none himself. It would probably take John longer than he would like to admit for it all to make sense, and it would be after you got comfortable enough to go around in short sleeves.

Maybe you think he’s just always known, since he’s got x-ray vision and all that, so he must have known from the beginning, right? And he just never said anything about it. yeah, not really.

He will act like that’s how it all went, because there’s no way Johns gonna admit that he didn’t notice something so important, no matter if they are old or fresh. If they’re fresh, John would build a habit of checking on you every time he sees you, just in case, you know?

He might still do this, even if they are old and you haven’t done it in a long time. Because who knows, maybe things become so stressful that you need that outlet again.

Shamefully, to John at least, the hero would find himself going online to check it out. Hes got no training in mental illness or how to deal with that, which messes with him since he’s supposed to be perfect.

So he finds himself on different forums, from both people who have done it, and partners of people who have self-harmed, reading into how they deal with it or react. John being, well, John, would probably grow annoyed because its all types of emotionally vulnerable stuff, something he’s horrible at.

There is also little chance he would bring it up, at least in the beginning. Again, because it’s a new ground he’s never been on, and its an emotional conversation he can’t figure out how to navigate.

The conversation would end up coming up as you two are cuddling, and John finds himself carefully stroking the area with the scars, trying to comprehend why and how you would do that. What did you go through? There might also be some guilt, since he couldn’t save you from whatever made you self-harm, even if you guys didn’t even know each other at the time.

It would end up with you explaining it to him, since you guys are in a relationship and its all built on trust, right? And he’s been so chill about it this entire time, so why not tell him.

You almost get a heart attack when he starts getting glossy eyes and his bottom lip wobbles just a little, because John has been stressed about this since he figured it out, and he just doesn’t know how to react or what to do.

In the end its you that has to comfort him, and explain that it isn’t a big deal and nothing to cry about. But you also know it’s a new experience for John. Theres also some fear in John, since seeing your scars make your morality so clear. If you could get scars from that, imagine what others could do to you.

After some cuddling and comforting, John would tell you strictly to never do it again. You cant take him seriously though, since his usually styled hair is all mused and his eyes are pink around the edges, and, he’s pouting again.

You promise not too though, since it gets him to smile a little and cuddle you again, clinging to you as hard as he dares with his super strength. You make him vulnerable, and the Homelander part of him doesn’t like that, but the John part of him basks in it, at how human you make him feel.

Maybe hed even let slip that he had thoughts like that too, even if he couldn’t cut or burn himself like you could. That just means his self-harm shone through in more mental or extreme ways.

John builds a habit of brushing his fingers or kisses over your scars, not just the self-harm ones, but all of them. Its part to remind himself that you are so fragile, but also to remind him that you are alive and there with him.

He won’t admit this though, since its cheesy. And he grows embarrassed if you ever bring it up, making him grumble and walk away to pout. It never lasts, and he’s back not long after.

#male reader #homelander #john gillman #the boys #homelander x male reader #homelander x reader #homelander imagine #homelander headcanon #john gillman imagine #john gillman headcanon #john gillman x male reader #john gillman x reader #the boys imagine #the boys headcanon #the boys x male reader #the boys x reader

49 notes · View notes

hazbinfallinginaspiral · 1 day

Text

Ya’ll have been thirsty in my inbox so here’s some lines I took out of one of the fanfics I’m working on.

(Yes there is a scene where you’re under the desk 👀)

It’s mostly pet play smut. Yeah okay, that was your one and only warning, here we go! The finished piece will be so much more concerning pls send help

"Yes, training," Vox affirmed, smirking as he stood up and walked over to his closet. He rummaged around for a moment, pulling out a strap-on and harness. Voxtek brand- in association with one of Tino and Vels fashion brand. That was never a good sign. "You see, I want to be able to fuck you anytime, anywhere.”

"You'll find out soon enough, pet. But for now, just focus on me." With that, Vox guided me over to his desk and sat down. He pulled me close and spread my legs wide open, exposing my glistening pussy to him.

"Yes, exactly," Vox said, pleased that I seemed to understand. He wrapped his arms around me, holding me close and enjoying the feeling of my body against his. "I know it might be difficult at first, but I promise it will be worth it in the end."

Vox chuckled, pleased with my obedience. "That's it, my dear. Good girl." He then reached out and gently stroked my hair, his touch sending shivers down my spine. "You know, I've been thinking of giving you a little task," he said, his voice low and smooth.

Vox chuckled at my eagerness and felt himself growing harder as he looked down at me. He reached down and tucked a stray hair behind my ear before pressing another button on the remote. I let out a surprised gasp as a wave of pleasure shot through my body.

Vox couldn't help but give a dark chuckle at my reaction to the electric shock, knowing now that he could truly control me. "Use your tongue," he said, almost sadistically.

He chuckled, knowing exactly what he was doing to me. "You're so sensitive here." He murmured, continuing to rub the sensitive spot on my clit as he added one more thing. "Be a good little pet. Don't cum yet."

This is all for a fic I’ll be calling ‘A Pets Collar’ because I’m uncreative and don’t care. At this point everyone should know that if I’m posting smut it’s going to be the worst shit you’ve ever seen.

In this particular fanfic, it’s just a Vox x Pet!reader, where he calls you in and gives you a collar to wear. It has a little charm on it, a ‘mood enhancer’ as he calls it. He can use a remote to control you through the collar- sending waves of pleasure through you when you’re good, or an electric shock when you’re bad. You can also make yourself feel either of these things by messing with the collar yourself. He uses it to make you more suggestible to him, then says he needs to train you. By the end you’re a drooling blissed out mess- but at least you’re a good pet.

I would not blame you for using the eye bleach.

Anyway.

@fizzybin because I’m pretty sure this is the kind of thing you like.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #vox #vox hazbin hotel #vox hazbin #vox the tv demon #vox x fem!reader #vox x fem reader #vox x y/n #vox x you #vox x reader #send help #unfortunately #this is my life #now #pet pl4y #pet pl@y

35 notes · View notes

bonknigirlinthehood · 6 hours

Text

I went nuts upon discovering Calcharo cares about his mercenary members so much. Even the game itself said he has a strong fatherly instinct ... .HOW COULD I LIVE knowing this man is such a FAMILY MAN???༼⁠;⁠´⁠༎ຶ⁠ ⁠۝ ⁠༎ຶ⁠༽

As an artist, I realize the power I hold, but as a uni student, I also realize the debuff I have to face that is TIME MANAGEMENT. I haven't drawn anything for a week now because of how busy I am, AND WHEN I TELL YOU I'M STARVING FOR CALCHARO CONTENT.

I had to feed myself using fanfiction as an emergency meal.

Content: basically Calcharo (try) being a father (which he does a good job).

Calcharo has a very strong fatherly instinct, as shown by how he keeps his lads in check before and after a mission. So imagine if one day, by accident, he ended up with a baby…

Part of him wants to take care of it because after all, it's his baby. Yet his other side keeps reality-checking him, saying how dangerous it is for the baby to be raised by someone who keeps venturing into the danger of Tacet Discord everyday, especially in a dangerous environment since he is the leader of a mercenary group.

However, most of his members would support and help him take care of the baby. They encourage their leader to keep it instead of giving it to an orphanage.

“Leader, do you really think the baby will grow happily and well-fed in an orphanage? You do know some of us came from there, right?”

“We'll help you take care of them!, they're our little landlord now!”

Of course, Calcharo couldn't refuse. They even already made a baby crib for the baby, even the medics going as far as to research about baby foods and formulas to help him ease his burden (which he highly appreciated).

This man tried his best to give as much affection as possible to this little bundle of joy, knowing he never received one and always emotionally constipated. He asked Jiyan if he could enroll his child into a preschool in Jinzhou, in which the general happily helped.

It was not easy for a dangerous man like Calcharo to have a dog, let alone a child. But after experiencing it firsthand, he concluded that raising one is not that bad. Sure, he was having a hard time sleeping now, but seeing his baby's face every morning has been worth it.

I'm pretty sure Calcharo is the type of man who makes sure his kiddo is prepped thoroughly for the day before actually starting his own day. He would wake, shower them, brush their hair, and feed his child before work. His room that was always gloomy and smells like iron now filled with toys and smelled like a baby cologne instead.

I knew this man would be good at changing diapers and making milk🍼and his baby probably only wants to drink milk made by him since the measurements are just perfect.

But because of his occupation, Calcharo had no choice but to hide his baby from the world. He does feel bad about it though, keeping them locked in the base with only so much entertainment he and his mercenary members can offer. That's why every once in a while, he would bring them to Jinzhou city, walking around all day and enjoying Lingyang performance. Calcharo even bothers to actually dress like the locals more, he even entertains the pre-school flyers the teachers give out there.

And how surprised Jiyan was when Calcharo offered another deal in exchange he and his members went in and out of Jinzhou city freely. He wanted to enroll his child into Jinzhou’s preschool, and possibly until they graduate high school, that's why he needs to be able to enter the city freely since his mercenary gang itself is located outside the city.

At first, Jiyan offered to give him a house inside the city, but after much consideration, Calcharo told the general he might need more time thinking about it.

All in all, Calcharo is a very responsible man. He loves and adores his little one, and tries his best giving them the best childhood he could offer–despite never having a proper one himself–though there's also some things he couldn't give, he sincerely hopes they would forgive him someday for it.

#calcharo x reader #calcharo #wuthering waves #wuthering waves x reader #calcharo x child reader #calcharo x you #wuthering waves x you #reddrambles

20 notes · View notes

hunnysnoops · 16 hours

Text

˗ˋ𝕎𝕙𝕚𝕥𝕖 𝕋𝕖𝕖𝕥𝕙 𝕋𝕖𝕖𝕟𝕤ˊ˗

Chapter Seven: You Are Going to Hate This

Kyle Broflovski x fem reader

Blackout and I need to sit and I wrote this, but it don't mean shit. Why can't I be like you? I miss you and I let you down and your voice is the perfect sound. Why can't I be so cool?

Premise: No one thought the school lock-in would go well, they just didn’t know poorly it would play out.

Warnings: mentions of blood and injury / mentions of disease / crude language and humour

MASTERLIST

There wasn't much you had been looking forward to about the school lock-in, the only thing that had slightly piqued your interest was competition. While various activities were being hosted in numerous classrooms, you were prepping yourself for the volleyball tournament in the gym.

A large sum of your friends were on the volleyball team and were also warming up. They had all paired up with each other and as you arrived at the school late, everyone already had a partner, leaving you with Andrew who was talking himself up but didn't have the skills to match.

"What's straight edge?" Annie asks from next to you where she spikes the ball across the net to Nichole, her eyebrows furrowing as she reads your shirt "You're not straight."

"No, it's like a punk movement from the eighties that was against drinking and smoking," You toss the ball high into the air and send it over the net with a satisfying smack. Andrew fumbles the return, the ball bouncing off his forearms and rolling away. He jogs after it, muttering an apology.

"So why are you wearing that?" She's even more confused at the answer. You were wearing a black loose T-shirt made of soft, high-quality cotton. The front of the shirt prominently features a bold white 'X' across the chest, above the 'X' where the words 'STRAIGHT EDGE' in bold lettering. The design includes a small graphic of a broken cigarette and an overturned bottle beneath the text. The back of the T-shirt has a minimalist design with the phrase 'LIVE CLEAN'. Anyone who knew you well had been casting you questioning glances.

"It's a thing for my dad's work, he asked if I could wear it and I said yeah," Your dad worked at a non-profit youth center and that week they were promoting drug abstinence. Weston was also given a t-shirt though he threw it at the back of his closet where it would never see the light again.

"But you aren't actually quitting smoking?"

"No, he was just so excited about it and I felt really bad because no one wanted to wear these goofy ass shirts." You serve the ball again, but Andrew misses the return once more, the ball sailing past him and thudding against the gym floor. A small knot of frustration begins to form in your chest.

"Oh my god, you're learning empathy," Annie turns her gaze back to Nichole, when the ball is headed for her, she braces her arms and bumps it perfectly back over the net.

Everyone else participating in the tournament seemed to have no issues with their partners while they practiced rallies. You take a deep breath and serve again, but this time the ball barely grazes his fingertips before hitting the ground. "Do something, bitch!" You throw your hands out, glaring at Andrew.

"Okay, never mind," Annie sucks a breath through her teeth, taking back the words she said just moments prior. She had been wearing her pink pyjama shorts with little daisies on them and a white tank top, curly hair pinned back into a French braid. Almost all of the students had arrived in their pyjamas which was the majority of some form of flannel pants and a t-shirt.

Despite your efforts to stay calm, Andrew's repeated fumbles and missed returns chip away at your composure. Each errant ball hits the gym floor with a dull thud, amplifying your growing irritation. "Andrew, get your balls in order."

"Jesus, it's not that easy," He tosses the ball up, smacking it in a feeble attempt. His hand lands on the top and sends the ball flying below the net.

"You're supposed to hit it over," You walk over to pick up the ball. Earlier when you had been looking for a partner Andrew couldn't stop talking about how good he was at volleyball but now that you were seeing him in action, you wanted to wrap your hands around his throat or maybe spike his head over the net instead of the ball.

The bandage over your nose was finally gone and the bruising was almost gone completely, all that was left was a little nick on your nose. Without the painkillers making you lethargic, you were back to being hostile.

He rolls the ball back over to you after missing another perfect serve. You move slowly to make sure he's ready for the next pass. You take a deep breath, focusing your energy on the perfect serve. You toss the ball high, your eyes following its arc. As it descends, you leap slightly, making contact with a resounding thud. The ball grazes over the net in a graceful, powerful trajectory, spinning slightly as it cuts through the air.

It's the kind of serve that you know is perfect the moment you hit it.

Instead of moving to meet the ball, Andrew freezes. His eyes widen in a moment of panic, his feet glued to the spot. The ball hurtles past him, as he shrugs away from it. You watch as the ball lands just past him with a thump. "I want a new partner, Andrew fucking sucks."

"Well, you aren't giving me much to work with here," He shoots back.

Slowly, your head turns to look at him "The only thing I would give you is a handful of antidepressants so no one else has to put up with your bitching," You say, pointedly "Get out of here."

"Eat shit and die," He stuck up his middle finger.

"Eat shit and live, Andrew," you returned the gesture, dropping the volleyball and hurryingly scattering to the whiteboard that held every pair's names. With your forearm, you wipe Andrew's name off and think of another replacement to fill the blank space. You glance around the gym seeing Stan on the bleachers and immediately mark down a name with the pink pen.

He was locked in on watching his girlfriend, he sat with Jimmy, the two chatting amongst themselves until you strolled up at record pace "Hi?"

"Hey," you smile, hands on your hips.

"W-what's with the sh-shi shirt?" Jimmy was the fifth person to question the straight-edge shirt laid over your torso.

"Where's Kyle?" You ask abruptly, ignoring the question.

"I'm pretty sure he's in Mr Dubois's classroom," Stan had been wearing thick grey sweatpants and a hoodie layered over a long sleeve despite the warm weather. You could only imagine he was suffocating under there "Why?"

"Thanks," You look towards the large digital clock mounted above the entrance of the gym, ten minutes until the tournament starts.

You sprint out of the gym, your footsteps echoing in the deserted hallway. The fluorescent lights overhead buzz softly as you race past the rows of lockers and closed classroom doors. You dart around a corner, narrowly avoiding a collision with a group of students heading toward the gym.

Pulling your phone from your pocket, you dig around for his number while rushing through the hallway.

New Message-Kyle Broflovski

You: Mf where r u??????????????

You: This is super urgent

You: Right hand to god

You: I'm gonna keel haul you

You read each number carved into the plaques on the doors, searching for room 116 where Mr Dubois taught French. In almost every room there was a different group of kids doing different activities, you pass the drama room where people are huddled up in the dark and watching movies.

The art room had of course been doing pottery and miscellaneous forms of art where everyone had their headphones stuck in their ears and didn't utter a word to anyone else in the room. There were always the kids bumming around in stairwells and corners, scrolling on their phones or hitting their vapes. There was an absurd lack of chaperones.

Finally, you reached classroom 116 where the door was decorated in prints of the French and Canadian flags as Mr. Dubois hailed from Quebec and would never let you hear the end of it if you asked.

Prying the door open, you were slightly taken aback by the sight. You had anticipated it would be a couple of guys sitting around and doing nothing in particular but you were met with the sight of six desks pushed together in the center of the class to form one table and eight guys pulled around it in chairs. They all had a plethora of sheets and colourful dice lying between them.

No one noticed you come in, they were deep in a game of Dungeons and Dragons and chatting amongst themselves. Butters noticed eyes on the back of his head and turned to face you, a smile on his face "Hey," He was one of the few people who turned up in a matching pyjama set, it was light blue and satin almost matching the stark paleness of his eyes "We already started but you can join if you want."

"No, she can't," Cartman countered immediately, he was taking the role of dungeon master. He turns his attention from Butters to you "You can't play."

"I don't wanna play your gay-ass game," You wrinkle your nose "Where's Kyle? Stan said he was in here."

Glancing around at the guys sitting down at the makeshift table, there wasn't even a lock of ginger hair in sight. "Oh, he went to the bathroom," Butters said "So you're not playing?"

"No, I'm not," You say, turning and leaving the door ajar behind you while you continue your way down the hallway once again.

For a beat you stand outside of the boy's bathroom and debate whether or not to enter, glancing around to make sure no one can see you. You rush into the bathroom, slipping through the door and immediately hearing the faint sound of music. You follow the noise, rounding the corner to find Kyle standing in front of the mirror, phone in hand, filming himself lipsyncing.

The very second you laid eyes on the scene before you, you erupted in laughter like a hyena. Eyes wide and mouth agape, Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she gasped for breath between fits of laughter. "What are you doing in here?" Kyle quickly turned his phone off, tucking it into his pocket while heat rose to his face.

"Are you making a thirst-" You couldn't even finish your sentence before breaking into giggles again. Still laughing uncontrollably, you stumbled backward, your legs giving way beneath you. You reached out instinctively, hand grasping the edge of the bathroom counter to steady yourself. Your body shook with laughter, and you leaned heavily against the counter, your face flushed and eyes sparkling with mirth.

"It's not that funny," Kyle said with a straight face.

Your hand moved to clutch your stomach where your ribs were beginning to hurt from laughing so hard, a single tear spilled from your eye. "Can I watch?" You say between chuckles.

"Fuck off," he muttered under his breath and moved to push past you.

You quickly straighten up, rushing to block the door "Woah, woah, woah."

"What do you want?"

"Let's just talk for a second," Slowly you put your hands out in front of you as carefully as a bullfighter would.

"You're in the boy's bathroom," He points out.

"What? Would you rather talk in the girls?" You retort and the annoyance is clear across his face as he reaches past you for the handle but you put your hands on his chest in an attempt to keep him away from it "Okay, sorry. My volleyball partner bailed last minute," You lied, trying to make yourself sound as convincing as possible "And the tournament starts in like, five minutes. Can you fill in?"

"No," His body language was slightly tense, his shoulders hunching forward as if trying to shrink away.

"What?" You sound genuinely shocked "Why?"

"Why would I want to play volleyball for two hours?"

"Because it's with me," You try for a sweet smile but it comes off insincere. You could tell Kyle wasn't buying it as his face remained unmoved and unimpressed "Okay, well, why would you want to play DnD for like eight hours?"

"Oh my god," He turns away from you, running one hand through curly locks while he does a small pace before stopping to face you once more. Kyle hadn't anticipated making a fool of himself in front of you "No."

"Please?" You clasp your hands together like it's going to do something.

"You're friends with everyone on the volleyball team, ask one of them."

"I did and they have partners and I already put your name down to play," you suck a sharp breath through your teeth.

"Just find someone else," He dismisses and you were suddenly wishing you had knocked and avoided embarrassing him entirely. Not only was he naturally athletic but part of you just wanted to be partners with him.

"I'm actually really sorry for laughing at you, I'm learning empathy."

"You don't learn empathy, it's something you're born with."

"I'm defying the norms," You say "I swear to god I will never laugh at you again. You're right, it wasn't even that funny just a little, not a lot."

"Christ," He mutters, one hand pinching his nose bridge.

"You're the only person I trust to actually give it a shot. Please, Kyle?"

Kyle presses his lips into a thin line, rubbing the back of his neck. You can see the gears turning in his head. All he does for a minute is look at you with narrowing eyes before he finally speaks again "Okay, sure."

"Thanks," You smile brightly, opening the bathroom door and ushering Kyle out.

"When does it start?"

"Like three minutes," You shrug.

The two of you pass the door of Mr. Dubois's classroom where Cartman glares at you and Kyle "Kyle, get back here." Cartman pushes himself from his chair "We're in the middle of a campaign!"

"I don't fucking care!" You call back. When you notice Kyle pauses for the briefest moment to look into the room, you grab his wrist and pull him along. He seems a little taken aback but doesn't argue as you drag him through the hall even though he's perfectly capable of finding the gym without contact with you.

"Oh my god," Cartman utters, sitting himself back in his chair, a look of disbelief on his face. "First we lost Stan, now Kyle."

"And Kenny," Butters adds.

"And Kinny," Cartman repeats in solidarity.

"Are you straight edge now?" Kyle furrows his eyebrows as he reads the back of your t-shirt.

"No. God, why does everyone keep asking that?"

"Maybe because you're wearing a straight-edge shirt." He states the obvious.

"Oh shit, yeah," you turn back to briefly to face Kyle and crack a small smile.

You step onto the polished gym floor, the bright lights overhead casting a warm glow that reflects off the glossy surface. The chatter and laughter of other students echoed through the room.

The second you were noticed you were met with odd glances like you were dragging a corpse behind you. Everyone was already beginning to take their places for the tournament or finding a spot on the bleachers "Shit, hurry up, Goliath."

"Goliath?" He narrows his eyes at you as you begin to walk away.

"Dude, just get over here,"

Stan quirks an eyebrow, watching the two of you settle in the center of a court while Coach Dawsey barks out the rules of the tournament. "Alright, everyone, listen up!" Coach Dawsey's voice booms across the gym through the crackly microphone, immediately silencing the chatter. "Before we get started, I want to make sure everyone understands the rules for tonight's lock-in volleyball tournament."

You glance over at Kyle, who's focused on trying to decode whatever Stan is mouthing to him, his eyebrows are drawn in. You nudge him lightly, and he straightens up, shaking his head at Stan and turning his attention to the coach.

"First and foremost," Coach continues, "This is a friendly competition. Sportsmanship is key. No trash-talking or unsportsmanlike conduct will be tolerated unless I can't hear it. Understood?"

A chorus of "Yes, Coach" echoes around the gym.

"Good. Each match will be played to ten points, win by two. We're using rally scoring, so a point is scored on every serve. You all know your positions, but remember to rotate clockwise after winning the serve."

Kyle nudges you back, whispering, "You got all that?"

You shoot him a look but can't suppress a small smile. Coach Thompson's eyes narrow in on the two of you, and you quickly return your attention to him.

"Communication is crucial," Coach emphasizes. "Call for the ball, and make sure you cover your zones. Stay alert and work as a team."

You nod, glancing around at your teammates. Their faces reflect a mixture of determination and nerves, but there's also a spark of excitement. You catch Kyle's eye again, and this time he gives you a serious nod, signalling that he's ready to contribute.

"Lastly," Coach Dawsey says, "Remember to have fun. This is about building teamwork and enjoying the game as well as winning, which is of the utmost importance. So erm, do your best out there."

With that, Coach blows the whistle, signalling the start of the tournament. Each of the four courts is split in two with two teams in each of the half courts. From the other side of the net Heather and Jenny stand, Jenny regards you with narrowed eyes "Isn't Andrew your partner?"

"What the fuck, no," You huff a laugh like the accusation was ridiculous. Jenny looks at the bracket scrawled across the whiteboard for confirmation.

The referee signals the start of the match, and the first serve comes sailing over the net from the opposing team. You spring into action, bumping the ball up to Kyle, who's already moving into position.

"Kyle, yours!" you shout, setting the ball perfectly.

Kyle leaps into the air, his form impeccable, and smashes the ball over the net. It hits the ground just inside the line, scoring the first point for your team. In truth, you hadn't expected him to be so good, the last time you played volleyball with him, you were on a family camping trip and in a continuous loop of trying to beat each other. You can't help but grin.

"Nice spike," you say as Kyle jogs back.

"Thanks, Captain," he replies, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

The game quickly turns intense. Heather and Jenny are good, but you and Kyle find a rhythm, communicating effectively and covering the court with dexterity. Kyle's spikes are powerful and precise, while your sets and saves keep the ball in play.

"Cover left!" you call as the ball comes over the net.

Kyle dives, saving it just before it hits the ground, and you quickly set it up for another attack. The back-and-forth rallies are exhilarating, each point hard-earned. Despite the competitive edge, there's a surprising synergy between you and Kyle.

As the score nears the winning point, tension mounts. It's 14-13, and you need one more point to secure the win. The opposing team serves, and the ball comes at you fast. You manage a perfect pass to Kyle.

"Yours!" you shout, adrenaline pumping.

Kyle takes to the air, his spike aimed with an almost lethal precision. The ball slams down on the opponent's side, untouched. The final point is yours. A few of your friends on the bleachers give you little cheers as the whistle blows, signalling the end of the match.

You turn to Kyle, breathless but elated. "Good shit, man."

"Thanks," He grins.

With the thrill of your first win still buzzing, you and Kyle barely have time to catch your breath before the second match is called. The gym seems even more charged now, the energy from the first game amplifying the anticipation for what's to come.

Coach Dawsey gives you both a thumbs-up from the sidelines as you step onto the court for your next match. This time, you were against Jason and Daniel. You knew Daniel was on the volleyball team, you had seen him a handful of times and he was good but you couldn't speak for Jason who seemed much more out of place than his friend. You glance at Kyle, who glances back at you.

"You good?" you ask, a competitive gleam in your eye.

Kyle gives you a little thumbs up, one hand resting on his hip. The two of you watch as your names are moved up the brackets on the whiteboard while Heather and Jenny's get erased.

The referee blows the whistle, and the game begins. The first serve from the opposing team rockets over the net. You move quickly, receiving the ball and passing it to Kyle. He leaps and spikes it down hard, but the other team manages a quick save, returning the ball with a strong hit.

"Got it!" you call, diving to keep the ball in play. You manage to pass it back to Kyle, who sets up for another spike. This time, the ball hits the ground just inside the line, scoring the first point for your team.

The match is fast-paced, the ball flying back and forth as both teams fight for dominance. You dig, set, and spike with precision, each point driving you a little more.

At one point, the score is tied at 8-8, and the tension is palpable. The opposing team serves, and you receive the ball, setting it perfectly for Kyle. He slams it over the net, but the other team is ready, sending it back with equal force.

You dive to save it, barely managing to keep it in play. "Kyle, heads up!" you shout, scrambling to your feet.

Kyle jumps, twisting in mid-air to adjust his spike. The ball flies over the net, too quickly for the opponents to react. It hits the floor. This was the part of Kyle that you admired, the competitive nature and the drive, on occasion the hot-headed insults even though you spat them right back at him.

As the match progresses, you both dig deep, pushing through the fatigue. The score inches up, point by point, each one harder to earn than the last. Daniel is relentless, but so are you and Kyle.

Finally, it's match point. The score is 14-13, and you have the serve. You take a deep breath, focusing on the target. The ball leaves your hand, sailing over the net. The opponents scramble to return it, but Kyle is already in position.

He jumps high, timing his spike perfectly. The ball slams into the floor on the other side of the net, and for a moment, there's stunned silence. You turn to Kyle, a huge grin on your face, almost vibrating with excitement.

For a brief moment, he catches himself smiling at you, the thought that an act as simple as hitting a ball over a net would make you so happy when he had seen you surrounded by everyone you've ever known with a cake in front of you and still frown.

"Got a couple more rounds in you?" You ask.

"What did you just say?"

When the match ended you had settled back into your separate groups on the bleachers and pretended that you weren't sneaking glances at his little group while you were looking at Wendy. What had really been grating you was that the doors of the school had been locked as per the name of the event, this meant that there wasn't anywhere to smoke without getting caught and you were increasingly growing desperate for that nicotine buzz, so much so that you had chewed you lip until the taste of iron flooded your mouth.

"You don't like Miles anymore?" Nichole looks towards Lola with furrowed eyebrows. Last week she wouldn't stop talking about him.

"What?" This was news to Annie "Why?"

Lola shrugs "Because he's weird, he's an asshole."

"What did he do?" Heidi asked. Everyone paid their full attention to Lola who seemed to squirm a little more with every pair of eyes on her.

"Nothing, he's just, I dunno- he's a dick."

You and Red share a look, this was code for Lola liked him a lot and he didn't return the feelings.

"Where did Wendy go?" You ask abruptly, noticing the disappearance of the girl and glancing around the gym for her.

Nellie sucks a sharp breath through her teeth, quickly looking to Lola for unspoken confirmation if she should say or not "She's with Bebe and Jenny."

"Oh, okay," You say and silence falls over the group, waiting for a bigger reaction. "I don't really care."

"It's okay," Annie nods and places a hand on your shoulder.

"Yeah, I know?"

"Yeah," Lola draws out slowly.

"Um," You brush Annie's gentle hand off and push yourself to your feet "I need to ask Kenny something, I'll be right back."

Feeling more awkward than you should've, you walked over to the group of boys enamoured in what was seemingly a deep discussion until you heard a snippet of the conversation "You're saying that if you could only eat one animal for the rest of your life it would be fish?" Kenny asks with quirked eyebrows and a slightly wrinkled nose.

"Yeah," Kyle says with a knit brow, not understanding why the boys seemed so disapproving.

"Dude, he said animal not sea creature," Cartman says bluntly.

"A fish is an animal."

"Don't start," Cartman's voice is accusatory, you can see him getting riled up already.

"I'm not starting, a fish is an animal," Kyle retorts.

"I'm talking animal-animal."

"And I'm saying fish-fish."

"That's like saying ant, that's not an animal." His face is flushed a stark contrast to the pale, blindingly bright lights overhead.

"Ants are animals, they're arthropods," Kyle's voice raises just the slightest.

Cartman huffs laugh "No they are not, fish and ants are not animals that's like saying bugs and insects are animals."

"Cartman, you are in AP biology," Tolkien throws in as a reminder.

"Yeah, that's how I know what I'm talking about."

"We are in the same class," Kyle says slowly to be sure that it sinks in.

"At least one of us was paying attention."

"A fish is an animal."

"Yeah alright buddy, you don't go to the zoo and see fish hanging around. There aren't zoo fishes."

"There's actually so many fish at zoos-

"There's fish zoos?" Cydle abruptly cuts him off, voice raising "You go to fish zoos?"

Kyle regains himself "There's so many fish at zoos that they have their own attraction called an aquarium."

Cartman shakes his head "Nope, not the same thing, that's for sharks and shit."

"Yeah, for fish."

"A shark is not a fish," Cartman starts laughing. "And an animal is something with paws and shit."

"Is a lizard an animal?"

"No, it's an insect."

"Jesus Christ," You mutter "Cartman, what's a reptile?"

"What's a human?" Cylde asks "Are we animals?

"They are literally classified as Cartilaginous fishes," Kyle ignore Cylde, his jaw is clenched tight and it's easy to tell that such an idiotic argument is grinding at his skull.

"Define fish," Cartman leans back and crosses his arms, waiting for the answer.

"You did not just say that," Kyle deadpans.

"Define fish," He says again.

"You define fish," Kyle almost spits with how fast he's speaking.

"Aquatic."

"Aquatic what?!”

"Aquatic creatures."

"So by your definition, fish are aquatic creatures but a shark isn't a fish?" Kyle asks. The vein in his forehead became so prominent you thought it might burst.

"Please tell me how a shark is a fish," Cartman tilts himself forward, closer to Kyle "Tell me what a fish is."

"They're aquatic vertebrate animals that have gills but lack limbs."

"So I was right."

"No, you aren't, lobsters are aquatic creatures, do you think they're fish?" Kyle asks and Cartman falls silent "Cartman, lobsters are not fish."

"Then what are they?"

"They're a sub-group called decapoda in the malacostracans class but they also classify as phylum Arthropoda."

"I thought they were Crustacea?" Stan chimes in for the first time since you came over.

"They are," Kyle glances back at him then to you then back to Cartman.

"So then how are they all that other stuff you just said?" Cartman asks this like he's finally got Kyle in a corner.

"Because animals are classified under taxonomic categories."

"What is that?"

"Oh my fucking god," Kyle runs his hands down his face.

"Hey, Ken," You put one hand on his bicep and leaned in to whisper into his ear "Do you have any Zyn?"

He turns to face you, looking down at your choice of clothing "There is no way you're in a straight-edge shirt and you're asking me for Zyn."

"Do you though?" With a sly smile, you straightened your posture.

He ran a hand through his shaggy blonde hair, cut into a mullet "Pretty sure I left it in my car,"

"Fuck," Your face drops immediately, unintentionally forming into something of a pout for the first time in what must've been years.

"If you come with me we can grab it."

"Erm, I'm pretty sure all of the doors are bolted closed." You raise a brow, hand still absentmindedly resting on his arm.

"Don't worry about it," He waves you off. "But what do I get in return?"

"How about my undying gratitude?" You offered, your tone laced with mock seriousness.

"Oh, word?" He cracks a grin "I'll be back in a minute," Kenny addresses the group.

"Cool," Stan doesn't even look up at him but Kyle's eyes are trained on the way your fingers trail Kenny's arm, the touch light but lingering as you begin to walk away.

Kenny's beaten-up sneakers squeaked as the two of you crossed the polished hardwood floors of the gym and made your way into the somehow even brighter hallway "So what are your plans for the summer?"

"Mostly working I guess, I haven't made any plans so I guess I'll just figure it out as I go." You really hadn't thought about it. You knew that your parents planned a trip to Mexico to which you and Weston were not invited so the only thing that had come close to a plan in your mind was the thought crossing that you would take Weston on a camping trip while your parents were away.

"Same over here," He shoves his hands into the pockets of his hoodie "You still working at that restaurant?"

"Yeah, you still working at that gas station?" It had been a hot minute since the last time you had really talked to Kenny and with that simple question, you were beginning to feel guilt pile onto your shoulders.

"Yup, been thinking about picking up a second job for the summer, got nothing better to do."

"Oh, you should apply at my work, I know we're hiring prep and dishwashers," You peeped up. It would make your summer just a little better if you got to work with Kenny. Even if you weren't anywhere near to how close you used to be, it might make those tiring serving shifts covered in steak sauce, garlic butter, and tears just a little better.

"For real? Maybe I will."

You had always thought Kenny was handsome in a scrappy way like a stray dog, it was his disjointed manner that made him so endearing. "So how are we leaving the school?"

He tilted his head, gesturing for you to turn down the hallways with him "There's an emergency entrance in the woodshop but you need to stay by the door and keep it open because it'll lock me out."

"Sweet," You smile up at him, the thought of a nicotine pouch resting on your gums brought you a little bit closer to satisfaction. "We should hang out soon, it's been a while."

"Jeez, I guess it has, a month is kinda long for us or has it been longer."

"I dunno, I lost track," You narrow your eyes, trying to think of the last time you had been with him one-on-one.

He acknowledges this with a hum "There's something I had to grab from my car at some point tonight anyways so this kinda works out."

"What is it?"

"You'll see," He shrugs.

"Kenny, what is it?" Your stomach drops a little bit. Whenever he was cryptic like this you knew there was something in the works within his brain.

"Don't worry," Kenny brushes you off, seemingly unbothered as he usually was.

"Dude, I'm worried."

"Okay, well I think the Zyn will help you with that," He jiggles the handle to the wood shop and holds it open for you.

Immediately you're greeted with the smell of woodchips and little particles of sawdust finding their way into your eyes, you clamp them shut and squeeze until the burning goes away. There isn't a single person inside, you didn't really expect the dusty woodshop to be a popular place to hang out during a lock-in.

"Don't make this a regular thing, I don't wanna see you abusing nicotine."

"I love nicotine, I would never abuse it," You reach for the phone in your pocket to turn on the flash. You wanted to be as discreet as possible, Kenny quietly shut the door behind the both of you.

The woodshop was eery in the darkness, it felt like you were in a horror movie where something would crawl out from beneath the table saw and maul you into a bloody mass of flesh pulsing on the floor.

"This shit is creepy," Kenny muttered, voicing your thoughts.

"I fucking know," You answer, "You think this is where Jigsaw makes his death traps?"

"Oh, definitely."

Kenny had a hand on your back to guide you to the exit door after you had almost knocked over a shelf of students' unfinished projects. Finally, you saw the exit sign hanging above a grey door, illuminated by your flash.

"Okay, just hold the door open but if anyone comes in, shut it and text me when they leave," Kenny yanks it open and the cold air hits you, forcing a shiver out of you.

"Just be quick, please," You take a spot standing in front of the heavy door while you watch Kenny jog away and disappear into the darkness. Kenny's car was what was referred to as a shit box. Every moment you spent in it you just kept thinking 'Okay, now it's going to give out' but it proved you wrong by pushing through with every rusted turn of the wheels.

His car was at the front of the school while you were stationed beside it, arms hugging yourself as the straight-edge t-shirt wasn't helping much to protect you from the cool night that hung on the other side of the doorframe.

Every passing second that Kenny was out of sight you grew just a little more concerned, constantly glancing back at the door of the woodshop. All of the blades and intricate machines seemed menacing when the only light that gleamed off the razor-sharp edges came from your phone.

"Keep the door open!" You hear Kenny's voice off in the distance.

You squint at the dark silhouette that is coming towards you full throttle with something being carried in front of him "Ken, what is that?" As his figure gets closer you can see the item he's holding is moving and squirming in his grip "What the fuck is that?"

The second Kenny steps foot inside you back away from him and let the door lock. He has a huge smile on his face while holding a raccoon underneath its armpits, his bottom half swaying slightly with every movement.

"That was the thing you had in your car?!" You can't help but shout, face contorted in horror at how easy-going Kenny was about holding a wild animal.

He grins mischievously. "Thought it'd be funny to let this little guy have a stroll, he's chill, he'll probably just walk around. Just a harmless prank."

Before you can protest, he loses his grip, and the raccoon drops to the ground with a thud. For a split second, it looks stunned. Then it bares its teeth, hissing angrily. Panic sets in as the raccoon charges toward you both.

"Fuck!" You shot away, weaving through the rows of workbenches and tools, careless not to knock anything over. You kept looking back at the feral animal charging you, bumping down projects and bottles of wood-blinding glue.

It was moments like these when you were glad that you ran track, not that you had ever been pursued by a feral animal before. You had started track initially to be sure you could run in a zombie apocalypse scenario and this was similar enough.

You throw the door to the woodshop open, Kenny follows behind you, regret obvious on his face. The hallways echo with the sound of your footsteps and the angry chittering of the raccoon. You glance back to see it gaining on you, its eyes glinting in the dim light.

Kenny splits down another hallway while you keep running straight, the raccoon chooses to follow you. There isn't anyone in the halls, all you can hear is the chatter within the classrooms. While you were sure you could fight a raccoon, you didn't want to risk the chance that it could bite you and you would forever be the girl who got rabies from a raccoon.

Kyle casually walks down the hallway in your direction, waving when he spots you "Why are you running?"

"Fucking run!" You shout gesturing for him to move in the other direction. He doesn't fight you on this, instead running next to you, trying to decode why you were frantically shifting your gaze all over the place.

"What's going on?" He asks, confusion clear across his face.

You ignore him, eyes catching on a classroom door which is slightly ajar, you snatch his hand and make a B-line for the class, yanking him in after you and shutting the door. You run your hands down your face, chest rising and falling with every shaky breath.

"Is there a shooter?"

"No," you say "It's a raccoon."

Any worry on his face drops immediately "Be serious for a minute."

"I'm so serious Kyle and that thing is insane, it's out for blood."

"Did it bite you or something?"

You yank out a chair from beneath a desk and plop yourself down in it "No and thank god." A scream sounds from somewhere down the hallway and Kyle's eyes widen "We gotta let them fend for themselves, don't be a hero."

"I wasn't planning on breaking any doors down and fighting a raccoon," He retorts "How did it even get inside?"

"Pfft, I wouldn't know man," You shake your head, making forceful eye contact.

"You let it in?"

"Kenny did."

"Mother fucker," he mutters. "That asshole."

"It's really not that big of a deal," You cross your arms and lean back in the chair, quick to defend Kenny even though you weren't thrilled about a wild animal set loose in the school you would pretend to be for his sake.

Kyle turns to face, jaw clenching tightly and you already regret your words "It's not that big of a deal?"

"Yeah," You say, firmly "It's really not."

His voice steadies, the rise of anger ringing clear in his tone "Do you have any idea how many people could be hurt because of this?"

"It's fucking funny, Kyle," You exasperate, standing up from the chair and taking a stride toward him.

"How is this funny?"

"It's a raccoon that terrorizes a school, how is that not funny?"

"What if it had rabies?"

"Kyle, that's life. Sometimes a raccoon is gonna break into a school and attack teenagers," You try to sound nonchalant but there's agitation clinging to your words "Life ain't all cookies and cream, lil fella."

"Do not ever call me lil fella."

"Sorry, lil fella," You shrug.

"Don't act like you weren't shaking in fear two minutes ago."

"I was and two minutes later it's hilarious, I would be laughing my ass off right now if you weren't about to punch a wall."

"I'm not going to punch a wall," Kyle sneered.

"Are you gonna make a TikTok about it then?"

"Jesus fucking Christ," He uttered looking away from you.

"Acting like you've never done stupid shit before," You spit, moving closer until you're inches away from him. You felt that familiar surge of anger catching fire in your lungs, one that was sure to never be smothered "Pulling the fire alarm, punching Stan, taping porno magazines on Mr. Garrison's car-

"Those were ages ago," He cuts you off "At least some of us actually grew up."

"It's a fucking raccoon!" You throw your hands up in the air "And you're seventeen, you should think this is funny because it is and one day you're going to be an old wrinkly boney fuck with rotten testicles and wish that you revelled in this a little more."

"You aren't listening," His voice raises. Every few moments, he runs a hand through his hair in a quick, jerky motion, adding to the sense of barely contained rage.

He was right, you weren't listening. Kyle was hastily spitting out words while you just stared at him like his words were muffled to your ears. His arms are crossed tightly over his chest, muscles tensed with barely contained frustration. His brows are furrowed deeply, casting a shadow over his narrowed eyes that stay trained on your face. His jaw is clenched so tightly that a muscle twitches in his cheek, and his lips are pressed into a thin, hard line.

The sleeves of his hoodie are rolled up and you can see the veins and the muscles flexing. His face was almost flushed red with rage, for the first time you had noticed the light dusting of freckles spread over his nose. You remembered him having them as a kid, they came around in the summer when he would spend hours in the sports court and chasing his friends through the woods. His face was spotted like a fawn, though they dwindled with age they always got dark after he bathed in sunlight.

"What?" He snaps, breaking your immersion "Are you going to say something?"

"Your freckles are coming in."

"What?" His eyebrows draw together even further. "What are you-

He is cut off by a sudden, sound of a heavy thump and metal hitting the linoleum and clattering in its place. You turn towards the sound and see that the vent covering has fallen off and something dark scuttles across the ground, catching only glimpses of it between rows and rows of desks. "Holy shit, it found me!" Without warning, the raccoon crashes against a desk with a ferocious growl, causing you to scream. Acting purely on instinct, you leap towards Kyle, wrapping your arms around him in a desperate bid for safety. His eyes widen in surprise, and for a moment, his anger is replaced by shock as he catches you. "What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck."

"What are you doing?" he exclaims, but his voice is less harsh than before, more surprised than angry though the irritation still hangs in his tone.

"I don't want to look at it," You squeeze your eyes shut and bury your face into Kyle's collarbone. "This is gonna be really funny in a week but I'm actually really fucking scared right now."

Kyle has one protective arm over your midriff as he leans forward the slightest to look at the raccoon that stands between the pair of you and the door. The raccoon hisses and bares its teeth at you, slobber foaming around its mouth "It has rabies," He says, backing away "It actually has rabies."

"Fuck!" You shout, breaking away from Kyle and trying to scramble onto a desk, so panicked your legs keep slipping until Kyle lifts you by your waist until your feet are flat on the surface and hops on a desk himself. "What the fuck do we do?"

The raccoon circled around the door, staggering like it had just drunk a forty. You fumbled for your phone in your pocket, looking up what to do when you encounter an animal with rabies. "What are you doing?"

"Okay, um, Reddit says to shoot it dead, bag it, and burn it," you look over at Kyle.

"Do you have a gun in your pocket?" He says with an antsy sarcasm.

"No."

"Well, that's super helpful, thank you," His face flat and voice mocking.

"Not the time to be an asshole," As the raccoon snarls and regains its footing, you fumble for your phone, your hands shaking. "I'm calling the police," you tell Kyle, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and adrenaline.

Kyle nods, his eyes never leaving the raccoon. "Fucking hurry."

With trembling fingers, you dial 911, praying for a quick response. The raccoon begins to inch closer, its eyes locked onto you. "911, what's your emergency?" comes the operator's voice.

"We're trapped in a classroom with a rabid raccoon at Park County High," you say, your voice cracking. "It's really fucking gross looking like it's covered in mud and it had matted fur and shit." You shudder as it nears you "And it's pretty fucking fat, it jiggles when it walks."

"Okay, ma'am, I need you to stay calm," the operator replies, her voice steady and professional. "Can you confirm your location one more time?"

"Park County High, room 112," You wrinkle your nose as it begins to sniff up the desk you standing on "Its hands are dirty as shit, probably from being greedy and eating too much."

The operator starts to ask for details, but the raccoon lunges forward, coming dangerously close. Panic surges through you. Without thinking, you scream and hurl your phone at the animal. The device smacks the raccoon on the head, causing it to stumble and momentarily back off. Upon impact, your phone shatter, the screen glitching with colour before going black completely.

The raccoon stumbles for a second before hissing and lunging at your ankles again. You retract your feet, trying not to tip onto the ground. You can tell the raccoon is charging up to attempt another jump onto the desk, you leap down in a moment of panic and kick the desk into it. The desk drops to its side and squashes the raccoon which lets out a yelp before squirming it's way out.

You ran to the front of the class grabbing any stray books off of desks and chucking them at the raccoon. Snatching the metre stick from the spot where it rested against the whiteboard, you begin to swat at the raccoon "I actually will not survive if I get rabies," Your voice shakes with every word.

"Yeah, no shit!" Kyle retorts, his hands flying arounf frantically and his mind paniced to do something.

The metre stick only seems to make the raccoon more angry "This feels like animal abuse!"

"It is!"

"Should I stop?"

"Do you want rabies?"

"No."

"Then no!" Kyle climbs down from his desk and frantically looks around for something to throw at the raccoon, he grabs a thick textbook from the teacher's desk and throws it down at the rabid creature. It squeaks, staggers, and snaps its jaws, ignoring Kyle and staying focused on you.

"Kyle, open the door!" You shout, prodding at the raccoon in a feeble attempt to keep it away from your flesh.

He jiggles the handle to no avail, it doesn't budge. There's nothing but a familiar snigger on the only side of the door. "Cartman, open the door!"

"If you pay me twenty bucks right now." His irritating voice answers.

"What? I don't have money on me." He lifted the little shade that covered the glass panel on the door and of course, there was the back of Cartman's head.

"You're Jewish, that's impossible."

"I'll fucking Paypal you the money just open the door," Kyle's voice rises with every word.

"Jewrat, I know you have your little gold pouch on you."

"Did you put the fucking raccoon in the vent?"

"That depends," His voice is as smug as ever.

"I'm gonna kick your teeth in!" He slams his body against the door but Cartman is without question the heavier one leaning on the other side. "Open the door!"

"Is it ethical to kill it?" You crawl on top of the teacher's desk, kicking random items down every time the raccoon attempts to jump. It hits the creature's head with a little thud though it's only stunned for a moment before it goes back to attacking like it shot up some kind of drug.

“That doesn’t really matter,” Kyle does a run against the door, it looks like it's going to cave inward.

You had run out of supplies to knock on the raccoon's head, it grabbed hold of your shoe, getting more agitated with every attempt to shake it off. "Fuck, fuck, shitballs, fucking cunt licker!"

In mere seconds Kyle grabs a chair by its legs and bashes down onto the raccoon which claws into your shoes in an attempt to stay on you but the force of the chair brought it barrelling to the ground. It twitches under the chair, ragged breathes and squeals. "Did it bite you?"

You shake your head, a hand slapped over your mouth as you look down at the animal writing below. "Where the fuck are the police?" You scream. Kyle helps you down from the desk and you immediately spring towards the door, banging on it with all of your force "Eric, open the door or I'm gonna throw rocks through your window, you dumb whore!"

"Tell the jew to slide a bill under the floor," He says nonchalantly. Through the glass panel on the door, you can hardly see the rest of the hallway past Cartman's head which appears to be vacant. You turn back to Kyle who throws his hands up in exasperation then look to where the raccoon begins to stir on the floor and find its footing.

"I'm going to ask one more time, open the fucking door," You try to keep your voice as still as possible despite shaking with rage and biting the inside of your mouth so hard that blood mixes with your saliva.

"I'm going to ask one more time, tell Kyle to-

You ball your hand into a fist and rear your elbow out, connecting your knuckles to the glass panel that was once separating the two of you from Cartman. It shatters on impact, sending a spiderweb of cracks radiating outwards. The sound of breaking glass fills the room, echoing off the walls. You reach your other arm through broken glass and wrap your hands around Cartman's pudgy neck.

The panic is evident, his hand moving quickly to try and pry your hands away from him. You refuse to let go, holding him against the door despite his choking sputters and the urgent tapping over your hands.

"Open the fucking door!" You shout again, wringing Cartman's neck like a soaked towel, ignoring the little shards of glass stuck in your hands and the jagged edges of the frame cutting up your forearm. You were a lot less scared of Cartman than you were of the raccoon carrying a deadly illness.

He coughs, each breath becoming shallower and more desperate than the last. His hand fumbles for the door handle and the second you see the light from the hallway spill through a crack, you let go of Cartman and slam your body on the door which finally lets out.

You stumble through the door and into the hallway, watching your shaking hand engrained with little shards of class. Cartman's breathing heavily against a wall, his face the brightest shade of red you had ever seen on a human.

Kyle walks through, eyes wide and brows furrowed at the sight before him. He looks at you, shutting the door behind him "Is it funny now?"

"Kinda actually, yeah."

#south park #kyle broflovski #kyle south park #south park x reader #south park x y/n #kyle broflovski x reader #stan marsh #eric cartman #kenny mccormick #kyle brovlofski #kyle broflovski fluff #sp kyle #south park kyle #south park fanfiction

20 notes · View notes