#he needs to figure it out on his own but he WILL realize what he's done and apologize and I expect crowley would for his part | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

toruily1 · 1 day

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ex husband!nanami x reader

MDNI

2.7k

ex husband kento who forgets that your daughter was sleeping over at a friends house this weekend, so he still shows up at the house that the two of you use to share at exactly 11 am on saturday morning.

you should've figured he would've forgotten, when you called to tell him on thursday, it didnt seem like he was really listening. he was probably busy stroking his cock to the sound of your voice, while desperately trying to keep his deep moans quiet hanging with one of his little girlfriends.

he rings the doorbell, waiting a few seconds before ringing it again when he gets no response. it takes him a few seconds to remember how you told him a couple of weeks ago that the doorbell was broken and it looks like you forgot to get it fixed.

he digs around in his pocket for his keys, pulling out the key he had in case of an emergency and unlocks the door.

"y/d/n" he calls out and expects to hear her soft voice come from somewhere inside the house, before she was rushing out to greet him, instead he's met with silence.

well its not completely silent.

no, there's a faint sound coming from the master bedroom— your bedroom, and if he listens hard enough he can just make out the breathy moans that slip past your lips.

kento's eyes widen as he realizes whats happening, his brain is telling him to leave, to turn around and walk right back out the house. its obvious that your daughter isnt here and there's no need for him to intrude on your personal time.

its just as he turns towards the door, ready to get back in his car and drive home when he hears it.

"kento!" its the loudest you've been since he's walked inside and if the sound of you pleasing yourself just a few feet away from where he was currently standing didnt have his cock stirring in his sweatpants, then the sound of you crying out his name as you touch yourself certainly did and he's hard in a matter of seconds.

nanami would've thought after all this time, especially after the divorce, that you would've been replused by the thought of him but the way you continue to cry out his name the closer you get to your release says otherwise.

its like his feet have a mind of their own because before he knows it, nanami is standing directly in front of your bedroom door thats slightly ajar and giving him the tiniest peak of the two fingers you have thrusting in and out of your cunt quickly.

he pushes the door open just a little wider and has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from moaning out at the sight of your naked body, flushed and glistening with sweat. your eyes are closed, mouth parted slightly as soft moans fall from your lips as you grind your clit up against your palm, fingers still thrusting in and out of your wet heat with a loud squelch from now wet you are.

"k-kento.. deeper. please" you whine and nanami's resolve breaks. he pushes the door open with more force than necessary, too busy letting his eyes rake up and down your naked body to care about the loud sound that reverberates through the room as the door roughly makes contact with the wall.

your eyes snap open at the realization that someone is inside of your home, hands instantly scrambling for your blanket as you attempt to shield your naked body from someones prying eyes.

"k-kento?" you question confused and slightly embarrassed, cheeks heating up at the fact that he definitely heard you calling out his name mere seconds ago as you fingered yourself to the thought of him. "what are you doing here?"

"i... we.. you—" he stutters out, his mind still clinging to the fact that you were thinking about him, in the same way he’s thought about you since a few weeks after he moved out and the fact that you were really gone finally began to sink in. he’d think about you as he remembers the feeling of your mouth on him, the feeling of your walls squeezing him in so tightly before he was painting his shower floor in creamy white.

he walks over towards the bed stopping when he's directly in front of you. you're eyes immediately fall down to his crotch, zeroing in on the prominent bulge in his pants, your hole clenching around nothing as you imagine him stretching you out.

deciding to let your actions speak for you, you begin to push the blanket away from your body, kicking it towards the opposite side of the bed as you spread your legs seductively.

nanami groans at the sight of your glistening pussy and thighs coated in your slick, and drops to his knees.

he didnt realize how much he missed the taste of you so much until the first swipe of his tongue through your puffy folds. after the first taste he knows he's addicted once again and since this was probably going to be the first and only time he got to have you like this again he was going to take his time, savoring the taste of you.

his hands wrap around your thighs, mouth never leaving your pussy as he pulls you down further on the bed, until your ass was hanging off and he was hands were pushing your thighs upwards, your pussy spread out just the way he likes it.

he dives right back in, his tongue forcing its way into your tight hole as his nose swipes against your clit. your hands instantly find his dark strands, tugging roughly as he tongue fucks you, thrusting his tongue in and out of you as if it was his dick.

"kento— f-fuuuck" you whine when he pulls his tonuge out with a lewd pop that has heat rushing up to your face before he takes your clit into his mouth and sucks on it harshly. nanami forces two of his thick fingers into your cunt, his pace starting off punishing slow as he gets himself familiar with to the feeling of your gummy walls once again.

your tighter than ever, probably since the only thing you've had to stretch you out was your thin fingers that probably couldn't even find your gspot with how much smaller they were than his.

he begins to pick up his pace, his fingers fucking into you at such a pace that it has your toes curling, drooling dripping from your mouth and all you can do is moan out for him.

he palms himself over his pants, moaning against your pussy at the slight relief he feels at the friction. he chooses to ignore the sticky, wet patch he feels as he squeezes himself over the cloth.

he's so hard it hurts, having been hard since the moment he walked into the house and the taste of your pussy on his tongue certainly didn't help the ache in his balls as they scream for release.

"m'close" you cry out when he curls his fingers upwards and hits your gspot head on. "m'close m'close m'close!" you repeat over and over again. the feeling thats been growning inside your lower tummy ready to burst.

"what the fu—" you practically yell when nanami pulls his mouth away from your clit and frees his fingers from the tight grip your walls had on him.

your about to snap at him, yell at him about how you knew you shouldn't have gave him another chance, yell at him for getting you so close to the edge only to snatch it away in some petty joke when any words get lost in the atmosphere as kento lands a hard smack directly on your pussy, his palm making contact with your swollen clit. your eyes squeeze shut as a burst of pain shoots through your body.

"wanna scream my name like a slut knowing i was coming here today huh? probably planned this just so i'd fuck this tight ass pussy" he pairs his words with another harsh smack to your pussy.

"shittt" you mewl as the pain quickly turns into pleasure, your cunt burning from the sting yet dripping as two more smacks rain down on your reddening pussy.

he uses two of his fingers to pull the hood of your clit back, exposing your clit and landing the final hit directly to your sensitive bundle of nerves.

"oou fuuck" you sob as you cum, body quivering as your orgasm rips through you. nanami watches as your hole clenches around nothing as your orgasm drips out of your pussy and down your asscrack.

your legs shake as you come down from your orgasm, the ringing in your ears finally coming to a close as your heart rate goes back to a normal steady beat.

kento smashes his lips into yours, hoping it's enough to portray just how much he's missed you this past year. he wants to think you missed him just as much if the way you kiss him back with so much passion is anything to go by.

"kento" you whine against his lips, hands fisted in his shirt as you attempt to pull him closer, your legs are about wrap around his waist when nanami pulls away with a disappointed tsk, taking a step away from the bed as you chase after his lips, whining again when he doesn't grant you what you so obviously want.

"been gone so long you forget how to ask for what you want?" he questions with a slight tilt of his head.

"can you please fuck me already" you pout, taking your hands and using them to spread your cheeks, displaying your fluttering holes and hoping its enough to get you want you want.

kento shakes his head but seeing as your just as desperate for him to be inside of you as he is, he decides to be nice, stepping towards the bed once again, his hand already undoing his pants and pushing them down his thighs just enough to free his aching cock from its confines.

you can feel yourself practically drooling at the sight of his cock that somehow seems bigger than you remember. the tip flushed a pretty red with a bead of precum that drips from his slit. you swallow deeply as you think about tasting him.

kento manhandles you, moving you upwards on the bed until your head is resting on your pillow, legs spread wide to accommodate his large frame as he positions himself between them.

he runs the head of his cock up and down your slit, coating himself in the evidence of your orgasm. he lets his tip nudge against your clit and grinning smugly to himself when you whine at the overstimulation.

"hurry up and fuck me" you demand and nanami realizes right then and there he's tired of this battiness that came with him being out of the picture for so long and decides he's going to fuck it out of you if it's the last thing he ever does.

he lines himself up with your entrance and in one quick motion, he buries himself into the hilt, lips connecting with yours once again as he swallows down the scream that ripped from you as your walls are stretched to their limits.

nanami uses that as his chance to force his tongue into your mouth, letting it swipe along your teeth, taking your bottom lip between his teeth and tugging on it gently as he starts off with slow, shallow strokes, thrusting in and out of you as he pulls away.

you immediately suck in a deep breathe as kento fucks the air outta your lungs, picking up his speed, each thrust faster and harder than the last until he's plunging into you with so much force it sends you flying upwards each time his hips meet yours.

"k-kento!" you squeal, hand coming down to push at his stomach when he changes the angle of his hips and automatically finds your gspot. the pleasure starting to be to overwhelming as stars begin to cloud your vision.

"s'too much... fuck-- s'too much" your hand continues its futile attempts at getting him to slow down or pull out or do anything that wasn't repeatedly fucking against your gspot with such force and accuracy that you know you'll be cumming again in seconds.

"hurry up and fuck me," he says in a mocking tone, repeating your words from earlier as he continues his assault on your gpsot. " those were your words right? now be a good girl and take it"

you sob out pathetically, arms wrapping around nanami's neck and pulling him down against you, forcing his head into the junction between your neck and shoulder as you hold onto him for dear life as he fucks you, pulling out just to slam right back in.

kento uses this as an opportunity to suck on your neck, drunk on the feeling of being able to mark you up again after so long. he pulls away after a few minutes, feeling your grip you had on him loosen as your orgasm sneaks up on you, and admires his artwork.

the sight of your neck covered in blooming purplish bruises that he left on you has his cock twitching inside your walls.

you can feel every drag of his cock inside of your sensitive walls, every ridge and vein as he pushes all the way in, watching the way your head falls back and your mouth falls open in an o shape as he begins grinding his hips against yours, his pelvis grinding against your clit and pushing you over the edge. your body twitching and convulsing as you cum, clenching tightly around kento’s cock.

kento curses, his strokes starting to get sloppy as he feels himself approaching his own high, the feeling of your walls spasming around him has his balls tightening and his cock twitching.

all it takes is a few more thrusts, one drag of his cock along your velvety walls, then another and another before his cock begins emptying itself deep inside of your pussy, mixing with your own arousal and coating the base of his cock in a creamy white ring.

"Shiiit" kento draws out as you milk him for the last couple of drops. when he's sure he's given you everything he has, he slowly begins to pull out, whispering out a soft apology as you whine at the sudden loss, your now empty hole clenching around nothing.

nanami flops down on the bed next to you, breathing heavily and covered in sweat, the bottom half of his face still shiny with your slick. he lets his hand settle on your thigh, rubbing up and down in a soothing motion.

it takes a couple of minutes for both of you to come down from your highs, breathing growing steady as nanami continues to rub his hand up and down your thigh.

"we're not getting back together" you tell him after a few minutes of silence.

he doesn't respond, figuring as much. this was probably just a lapse in judgement for you, your sexual needs taking over the rational part of your brain but he would be lying if he said he wasn't disappointed.

he missed you for crying out loud and he was hoping you missed him just as much.

"but" you start and kento turns his head to look at you, waiting for you to continue "i wouldn't be opposed... to doing this again that is... maybe you could come over one day when y/d/n is at school?"

well fuck, that's not what he expected but he'll be a damn fool to turn down a once in a lifetime opportunity.

"fuck yes" he grunts out as he tugs you onto his lap, smashing his lips into yours once again as he prepares for round two.

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crepezinhos · 2 days

Note

I have to say I really fell in love on your writting. I just discovered you by the Check mate(? Fic and oh- i can't read any other fics now... I beg you to keep writting new ideas or continue your stories (I really would like to see another part of 'Purity' just if it's possible). Thank you for feeding us well ☺️✨️🎀

Innocent Lesson

(REQUEST #7) POV: At one point in Scaramouche’s life, when he was still an absurdly innocent creature, completely unaware of how humans worked, he learned what was sex and how to do it with someone. How was that moment like for poor, little Kabukimono that didn’t even know how to pick something with his hands?

⚠️ WARNINGS:

— This is a NSFW piece

— Reader is FEMALE and uses SHE/HER pronouns

— Kabukimono has no sexual knowledge at all but this does not mean I’m trying to make him 'more childish' in any way.

— Sub!Virgin!Scara

“Y/N-sama…” You heard the puppet call you from behind in a particular low, embarrassed voice tone.

Kabukimono, or Kabuki-kun just for you, was a hard thing to explain. He was a puppet prototype that was abandoned in the Shakkei Pavillion that really resembled normal male human being. It was still pretty obvious that he wasn’t really one since he was so incredibly stupid and unaware of the world around him worked, to a point where he didn’t know how to swallow water, although he really tries to be associated with one. This weird behavior of him made most men in the furnace where you work naturally reach into the conclusion that you should be the one responsible for him just because you were the only ‘mother figure’ that he could have in the place for being the only woman there. Eventually you two became friends rather than family and he started living with you in your apartment, which helped you quickly learn the pattern of his obvious behaviors.

That specific voice tone usually meant that he had an embarrassing question to ask you. You were used to them, although they could be troubling to answer sometimes. Like, how are you supposed to teach him the concept of breathing to him and why do humans do it? At least, the intelligence of his questions would improve the more he learned about the world around him, so you were never once annoyed by these questions.

“Yes?” You answered as you turned around to look at him and stopped folding some clothes that had just finished drying in your house on top of your bed.

“I… I have a question…” He initiated as expected, but didn’t have a lot of courage to continue. “Do you promise to not make fun of me like the other miners did?” He asked in pure need of reassurance, his cheeks going pink as he rubbed his hands together in the corner of the room’s door.

“Yeah! What is it?” You asked excited, putting your hands in your knees to make sure he knew you were paying attention to him.

But he didn’t say anything back to you. Kabukimono actually seemed to be really troubled to get his words out of his mouth despite your approval. It was written all over his face that he was embarrassed about it, which made you decide to simply wait for him.

And while biting his own inferior lip and avoiding eye contact, he finally breathed in and out and used a hand and his eyes to point right at something in you.

“What are those..?” He asked, and your eyes instinctually followed where his finger was pointing at, only to realize he was shamelessly pointing at the trough of your breasts.

“Oh..!” You reacted, a little taken aback, but still willing to answer his question as you used your own hands to point at your breasts too. “These..?” You asked, holding back a giggle in the back of your throat.

“Y-Yes… those two… things…” He finally found courage to refer to your breasts with an actual name.

You couldn’t help but break your little promise to him, using a hand to cover your giggling mouth.

“H-Hey! You promised you wouldn’t laugh!” He instantly protested at your laughter.

“Sorry, sorry…” You quickly swallowed all the remaining giggles down your throat as and moved your hands back to your breasts. “You really mean these?” You groped both your breasts softly, genuinely trying to understand him.

“Yes… those... the other forgers call them b-… boogs..?” He made another question, but his own little knowledge made him get too embarrassed to make eye contact with you or your breasts again, almost fully hiding his body behind the wall.

“They’re called boobs, but you can also call them breasts, honkers… whatever you like! The forgers can easily tell you all the possible names for these if you ask them…” You explained with a smile, trying to get him more comfortable with his own curiosity.

“W-Why do they have so many names..? And why don’t I have them?!” He asked, exposing his full face out of the corner of the door and beginning to get inside the room. His curiosity was too much for him to keep hiding himself.

“Because only girls have them! They are made to feed babies when they’re still too young.” You continued your explanation, making Kabuki’s eyes open more and more the more information you revealed to him, and also making his slow walk towards you more confidently.

“Feed babies..? B-But how?” He asked, kneeing right in front of you, his face already leaning the closest it could to your breasts as if he was trying to figure out how they looked like.

You gently grabbed his chin and pulled it upwards so he could stare at you instead of your breasts. Although you knew there was no bad intentions inside that empty head of his, you still didn’t feel comfortable with a male creature that close to them, especially one that was almost like a male human being. At least he didn’t mind your command and allowed his head to rise until his eyes met yours again.

“You know how babies need to drink a lot of milk when they’re still newborns? To make that an easier task to do, the female body produces and stores a good amount of milk inside them on their own for when they have babies, so that’s why they are this big! Uh… do you know what a nipple is?” You asked a little embarrassed, after all the topic of the conversation was really weird, but at least a Kabukimono was hearing your words very attentively and respectfully and nodded very excited for more. “Yeah, so, the babies get that milk by sucking it out of them with their mouths! Makes sense, doesn’t it?” You explained it all, a little proud of your own basic knowledge about your own kind of body, using a few hand gestures to emphasize the core parts of your explanation.

“Oh, wow… I thought babies had to drink milk from cows… but what if you don’t ever have a baby..?” He rose his upper body back to normal, a little worried at that piece that seemed out of the place in that newest puzzle you were giving to him as he fidgeted his own hands again.

“Well… they’ll just forever exist in my body then!” You giggled at the silliness of your own answer.

“Hm…” He looked away for a second, trying to piece all that new information together in is head. “And how do they look..?” That question made your eyes widen a little.

Did he really just ask you to show your boobs to him?

Poor Kabukimono… he was so unaware of the absurdity of what he just said... Not because you found it rude or wrong, but because you two were never intimate in that way. You never even thought about being more than friends with the boy.

“Oh, c’mon, show them to me! It can’t be bad anyway!”

A tie formed in your throat. Although his goofy grin reassured you that he really wasn’t a pervert, you couldn’t help but make you remember some unpleasant flashbacks. Being the only woman working in the furnace has its many bad sides, and one of the mains ones includes the forgers themselves. All the people working in the furnace made the sacrifice of leaving the town of Inazuma, where most people and the Archon resides, and probably their families too, just to work on the mines. To make things worse, Tatarasuna is a completely distant island with no other civilization rather than those mines, so everyone in there is unfortunately very far from any other kind of people in Inazuma. That means you are literally the only woman in the area that those men see, which also means they all look up to you when hormones starts acting up on them.

A guy asking you out for a ‘drink’ was a daily thing to you now, and most of these really just had the intentions of having a night of sex with you. Most of the times you rejected them. Only a few ones got a ‘yes’ out of you, but that would usually end up in other men asking you why did you reject them or praising the man for sleeping with you it while you got no sort of celebration and even insulted for being ‘easy to fuck’. These many disappointments led you to stop hanging out with the men in there and even start viewing them negatively in that sexual way, locking all those needs that you had in a deep corner of your heart that are only released when you use your fingers to pleasure yourself.

But for some reason, you don’t feel that nervous and repulsive with Kabukimono asking that at all, who was probably the man that had done the most absurd request to you yet. Actually, you always viewed him as a friend or a miracle that happened to fall right in your arms, so you never thought of him like a lover, or someone that could see you naked in the first place.

But why thinking about him as one of those now doesn’t make you even slightly uncomfortable?

“You wanna see how they look under my clothes?” Your smile died off a little as you still decided what you should do with the puppet boy.

“Yes! Can I?” He asked like a little kid would, which made your smile grow some extra inches again.

Kabukimono really wasn’t a bad man, was he? He simply wants to know what’s under your shirt, is that so wrong to ask for? Why would you ever say no to such a good-intended angel?

“Sure…” Your hands gently reached down to the tie of your kimono, located in your waist.

Since you were about to sleep, you weren’t wearing any sort of underwear, which meant that you had to was open the ends of the kimono and let it fall in the ground naturally. And as soon as the chilly breeze of Inazuma was hitting your warmed breasts again, Kabukimono’s pearly eyes shone with that newest view like he was miring at diamonds.

“W… wow…” You heard him mumble to himself as his face got some inches closer to them again as if he had completely forgotten of the fact you had already given him limits. His mouth dropped like he would begin drooling at any point from now on.

But now you didn’t really mind that extreme closure between you two now, did you?

“They look… weird.” You've never been so easily turned off with a single comment as this one.

You did mind it, yeah.

His curious expression also died a little, now looking neutral and unbothered, not even a little bit ashamed in expressing his honesty towards what he thought of your boobs, which made you instantly back away and pull your kimono up again until your nipples were fully covered from him. He went back to a confused state, but before he could say anything, you stood up for yourself.

“Don’t say that, Kabuki. That’s a very, very wrong thing to say to a lady.” You scolded him, which made him instantly cover his mouth in regret of what he had done.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you sad!” He immediately apologized, leaning his hands up just to shake them side to side, trying to get you to forgive him as quick as possible.

You couldn’t help but let a little grin reshape the lips of your mouth again. He was really just a little dumber than an average human being, wasn't he? If you taught him the right thing to do and say, he would do it for the rest of his life, would he?

“Don’t you ever insult a woman’s body like that again, you understand? This is something very difficult for me to do, so be grateful for the opportunity I’m giving you, ok?” You let go one of your hands from the kimono, still holding it up with the other, just to flick his forehead with your middle finger’s nail.

“Y-Yes, of course! I don’t find your boobs weird, Y/N-sama! T-They're really pretty!” Kabukimono smacked both his hands in the floor and bowed his entire body to you while shaking his head, agreeing with the newest rule you gave him.

“There's no need to bow, Kabuki... now come here again.” You whispered close to the boy's ears, which made him slowly rise his whole body again until it was in the same angle as yours.

The hand you left holding your kimono was taken away from its place, letting him mire the view of your breasts once again. A silence took over the room, one that wasn't embarrassing to him, but surely was to you. Kabukimono would simply stare at your boobs from different angles, trying to understand their entirety with a goofy curious facial expression, while you did nothing, which pressured you to break the ice.

“Do you… want to fondle them?” You asked fighting your own embarrassment, but also getting a little sparked up with the situation you were willing to put the both of you in.

It would be hard to convince someone so innocent like him to do something so out of his level of comprehension and teach him step-by-step about it... but you couldn't deny your own growing curiosity about his body deep down in your heart. You still remembered the sensation of touching Kabukimono's hands in his first days in the mine. They were incredibly soft, like you were touching a slightly hard pillow, but unfortunately some of its perfection was ruined due to the manual work he had to do in the mines, hammering swords, ores, carrying boxes... but he had to do it if he wanted to have a bed to sleep on, or food in his plate, so you coudln’t blame him.

How would those soft hands feel like while massaging your breasts they enjoyed to be massaged?

“F-Fondle them..?” He asked, raising his eyes up to stare at you, looking visibly confused. “Why?”

“Don’t you want to know how they feel?” You asked, fondling your left boob softly on your own in his front to give him a short preview of what you were talking about.

“I-I… yes, but… I don’t know how to do it, Y/N-sama…” He argued pessimistically, bonding his two hands again to fidget them in anxiety.

“There’s not really a right way to do it, Kabuki-kun, just do what comes to your mind... or what comes to my mind.” You replied more optimistically, reaching both your hands to separate his own hands, and starting to pull them slowly in direction of your needy boobs.

His entire body froze at your initiative, shivers running down his spine, blood running to his cheeks and his breathing even locking itself on his thorat just to process your actions, although he didn’t even need to do that according to himself. But that didn't stop his fingers from spreading all open to be able to have them placed where you wished them to be placed at.

And the deed was done. Kabukimono's pillow-like palms were now oficially holding both your boobs with yours on top of his to control his first, initial moments of that interaction you were introducing him to.

While he didn’t find courage to move his hands, he did have the strength to mumble some syllables every now and then, completely melted by your actions.

“Don’t worry, Kabuki-kun…” Your knees hopped closer his body, leaning your head close to his ear again. “Just close your eyes and move your hands around as you wish to... I'll help you if you wish me to.” Your flirty voice made his ears twitch in growing arousal.

The same growing arousal that managed to overcome his embarrasment as you saw the puppet gulp all the saliva resting in his mouth and close his eyes shut, relaxing his hands to let them be controlled by yours.

The first thing you did was to tighten your grip on his hands, forcing him to do the same to your boobs, which made your throat hum in pleasure of feeling such softness massaging your boobs after so many months untouched by a man. You hated the other men's hands felt against them. Hard palms who were usually stained by the black ink of coal, completely mistreated nails and calluses everywhere, playing with your boobs the way they liked it and completely obnoxious to your needs, sometimes even causing you to experience pain when they groped on them. Kabukimono's hands were soft and completely submissive to your command, so they were pleasuring you fully. You doubted that those hands, so perfectly architectured and crafted, could be ever as damaged as the other men's.

“Wow…” He hummed very lowly, still froze in his place as you stared at his dolly face.

And although he wasn't really moving, you could his fingertips slowly getting more and more relaxed by the seconds, mostly stoning them in an angle where he was grpping on your breasts by his own without the assistance of your hands. You even saw him smoothly breathe out all that air he had kept his lungs all this long, which seemed like an achievement to you.

As expected, the experience was becoming pleasing to him. Even if he wasn't human, what kind of creature does not enjoy groping boobs? They're soft and fluffy, no matter how big or small they are. You'd never tell any man this little secret, but even women grope their own boobs when they feel like it, so why wouldn't he want it too? The question didn't matter to you anymore because his hands, who were previously repulsive to your boobs, now finally have tightened their grip on you without your assistance, alongside with his eyes, who slowly opened to meet what he hadn't revealed to himself yet.

You couldn't help but let out a slutty hum, thirsting for more of that individuality of Kabukimono.

And he didn't disappoint your hunger, since it seemed he had found the courage to start a slow rhythm of rotating your boobs all around in a circle as he occasionally pressed them with his fingers too, even causing your inner walls to clench around nothing a few times. His cheeks were still shining in red, matching his shiny violet eyes, but they had definitely lost a bunch of pigmentation as he got used to the feeling.

You grinned and relaxed your hands on top of his', enjoying both sides of his hands working on you. The sexual tension had become heavy to you by the seconds, but Kabukimono didn't really look sparked in that way, like all that went through his mind was really just curiosity in the female body. After all, the next thing he said to you wasn't arousing in any way.

“W-What happened to your nipples?” He asked, moving both his and your index and middle fingers away from each other to take a better look at your nipples.

“Oh..." You went quiet for some seconds, looking down upon your boobs, only to find them looking normal, with the exception of your them being hard. "They just got hard…” You explained, a little turned off and scratching the back of your head.

“Hard..? Why..?” The grip of his hands softened, his attention already focusing in the next explanation you were going to give him.

“Well, as I explained, I need to have a way to feed a baby with the milk inside me, so think of this as a sink turning on..!” You suggested, a little more enthusiastic. “Although any kind of touch can easily make them hard...” You argued back at your own explanation.

“Wow… it’s rally a whole system…” He commented while pressing your boobs once again, which made you nod in surprise of the way he connected the ideas pretty quickly without you having to go word by word about it.

“That's right, just like the entire human body! Wanna try one?” You said, gently pinching your own nipple to show him a preview of what he had to do again.

But unlike your expectations, he didn't feel really embarrassed at all anymore as you saw him nodding for a quick moment and then slowly changing the way his hand was positioned to perfectly pinch both your nipples at the same time, causing a whole heat wave to run through your body.

You couldn’t help but genuinelty let a moan escape your lips and clamp your inner walls together again, trying to hold your will to touch yourself as he teased your boobs. It called Kabukimono's attention for a second but he decided to ignore it, thinking it was a sign to keep going. So, one of his hands decided to convert back to its fondling form, trying to do both things he had just learned at the same time. It was really causing your body to heat up in a way you weren’t expecting it to, in need for the next level of that kind of interaction, and he would simply keep fueling it cluelessly. His eyes would constantly focus on each boob and his hands would switch turns between pinching a nipple and fondling the whole organ, which was an addicting feeling for you, such an untouched woman.

You couldn’t even believe that was really Kabukimono making you feel pleasure, and that much of it too. It didn’t match his personality at all, and that’s also something he also came up to realize.

“Y/N-sama… why am I learning this..?” He suddenly asked, stopping his rhythm on you which also cut off the production of pleasure in your body.

You didn’t know how to answer that question. Was Kabukimono ready to learn how humans make babies in the first place to feed with your boobs? Was he ready to practice it too? Could he get you pregnant..? He was such an innocent boy, vulnerable to any corruption… but you could help him mature in a way it wouldn’t traumatize him. As long as you treat the topic nicely and let him decide whether he wants it or not, it wouldn’t be that much for the boy to take, would it? It could also make him have more pleasure in living as a whole.

Wait... does he even have a dick? Even if he did, is he able to feel pleasure? You didn’t see or feel him feeling sexual during this whole time. Maybe he’s really immune or tolerant to it... or he hasn’t felt it yet.

“Kabuki-kun… do you have anything between your legs?” You asked, purposefully avoiding his question.

“Between my legs..?” He rubbed his own legs against each other gently for a quick moment. “Yeah… yes, I do.” He said, not understanding why you changed topic, but taking his hands off your breasts for the moment.

“May I see what’s between them?” You grinned and leaned a little closer to the puppet’s embarrassed face, trying to make him comfortable onto saying ‘yes’ to you.

“I—… yes, but you didn’t answer my question…” He answered, purposefully closing the gap between his legs shut to get you to talk to him first.

“Well… Kabuki-kun, boobs aren’t only made to feed babies… do you even know how babies are made in the first place?” You stopped your line of thinking just to know if he was really that innocent, which he nodded his head side-to-side. “Well then, I think it’s really important for you to learn about this system of the human body, Kabuki-kun. Boobs are also made to make me… feel good.” His head angled to the left a little, not understanding what you meant by that last sentence.

“Feel good..?” His voice sounded confused once again, back to step one.

“Yes, and whatever us between your legs can probably make you feel good too, that’s why..!” You reassured the boy, gently patting the top of his purple head, but he didn’t really seem to be interested in your words, which made your anticipation truly die. “I just… wanted to teach you something about human beings that can do two things at the same time for us… it’s okay if you don’t want it, I understand.” You finally begun backing away from the puppet.

What were you thinking? How could you forget he isn’t really a human being in the first place? He’s a puppet, one that assimilates a human being, but who doesn’t act like one. He’s still too ‘young’ and naive to learn such a delicate thing… nor would he ever pleasure on it like you did. What kind of puppeteer would ever give any puppet a sexual organ? It would be cruel to teach him something for only your benefit when he didn’t view it like that too. It’d be better to let him have his first time with a woman he actually appreciates, not with the only one he knows yet.

You started tying your kimono back to normal very disappointed at yourself while Kabukimono simply stared. You couldn’t even tell what was he thinking behind that head… how’d you think that brainless man would be able to take all the information sex needs to be done accurately?

“W-Wait… what is it that you want to teach me..?” One of his hands launched forward to hold one of your wrists gently, trying to stop you from completely dressing up again.

Your face frowned, a little uncomfortable to talk about the topic now, but not enough to actually not give him the answer.

“…It’s called sex.” You initiated, but tried to wait for him to recognize the term, although you were pretty sure he wouldn’t-

“I’ve heard that name before!” He smiled at you very excited as he indeed recognized that term.

“You… did..?” You were a little shocked, you must say. The way he has been internally repulsing sexual interaction didn’t match the fact he knew the word ‘sex’ at all...

... Oh, yeah, the forgers.

“Y-Yeah! The forgers talk about that sometimes but they always make sure I don’t hear or understand what they’re talking about! I’ve even heard your name in those conversations sometimes!” He got so excited as he explained what he knew, completely clueless of the trigger he had just pulled on you.

“O-Oh… that’s… good..?!” It took you a while to properly react to that information in a way where he wouldn’t lose that motivation.

“What is that?! I’ve been wanting to learn what that was for a while now… but the miners always told me to wait for 5 years to learn about it, and we’re still on month 6 on year 1! Should I really wait for it or can you tell me what it is?!” You sighed.

Those stupid men… gatekeeping anything they find too ‘inappropriate’ for Kabukimono… and for five years..?!

“Well, Kabuki… I guess you can learn about it...” You breathed in and out, preparing yourself to teach him something partially hard to take in while his face remained excited like a little kid’s. “So... Kabuki-kun, when two people really like each other, they make this act called sex, but in better words, they make love to each other. It shows to them how much they like each other and how intimate they wish to be with each other.” You initiated, blood beginning to run to your cheeks again as you thought of you and Kabukimono possibly making love to each other too. “And sex is… something that makes the both of them feel really good and that can also make a baby, that’s some people call it ‘making love’.” You scratched the back of your neck.

“So… if that happens between two people that like each other, does it mean we can do it too? I mean... I think you were feeling pretty good when I was fondling your breasts so it means we can make it too, right?” Your eyes widened a little. He had no notion of what he had just asked for, did he?

“Well… yeah, but I don’t think you’re apt to do it, Kabuki… it’s not easy at all and you didn’t really seem a bit interested in it before, so I don’t want to make this any more uncomfortable or awkward to you.” You wasted the opportunity he had given you.

“B-But I want to learn! I want to know more about humans! I don’t mind making you feel good at all, I was just a little lost back there! Your boobs feel really nice to touch!” He suddenly banged his hands in the floor again and hopped closer to you, not allowing you to back away from him at all.

Oh, you were so confused… yeah, you had created all this mess but you’ve only realized it was really a mess now. All thanks to your bipolarity...

“Well… we can try but I don’t know if I’m in the mood anymore…” You giggled nervously, trying your best to not make the moment more awkward.

“W-Wait! Here!” He suddenly backed away from you only to quickly undo the simple tie in his white pants and pull his organ out of it with a hand. “This is what you wanted to see if I had, isn’t it?! The forgers already made me that question too!” Your jaw dropped at his move. It wasn’t comfortable in any way to have a man pulling out his dick when you have already stated you weren’t in the mood to do it, nor when it was a puppet labeled as a male human being.

But, indeed, Kabukimono really hadn’t answered your question wrong. He did have a dick...

... and he wasn't small.

It even made you stop your thoughts to think about why would he ever have one. Is his creator a creep? Was this some sort of irony his creator did because they knew they were going to abandon him and that would most likely lead him to death? Well, there’s also the factor he wants to be associated with the human race, and one of the many aspects of humanity are these intimate parts and what they bring humans to feel, so it would make sense for him to have one for this mission or if his creator really wanted to abandon him.

Yeah, that’s probably it. Anyway, this man has a big dick and he stated he wants to learn about sex with you. What are you waiting for?

“O-Oh!” You stared at his furless genital for a moment. “Well then… can I touch it, Kabuki?” You hopped a little closer to him, making his eyes look away from yours in slight embarrassment.

“Y-Yes... but be careful..!" He let go of his grip in his dick and relaxed both his hands behind his body in the floor, opening his entire body for you to touch.

You slowly crawled closer to his body, your eyes deeply focused in his growing erection. After kneeing the closest you could to his hips, your right hand finally reached his organ, which made it twitch and made him whimper immediately. It was not only the first time you had ever touched him like that, but it was also the first time you heard such kind of noise coming out of him. It was probably his first time being touched like that too, so it would be expected for him to be very sensible. Your hand was quick to begin a slow rhythm of going up and down all around it, which surprised him since he’d been so slow and careful with you and the fact he was being introduced to so much pleasure in such a short time. Which means that soon enough, his noises became something constant rather than rare, but at least his body was becoming more relaxed and turned on with your movements. His cheeks had become red again and he decided to put a hand in front of his mouth to cover his moans.

“Does that feel good, Kabuki?” You asked, smiling at his whiny face and pearly eyes, like he was about to tear with the amounts of pleasure you gave him.

“I-Is this… supposed to make me feel like this..?” He looked up to you again while groaning in his own palm.

“Yes, indeed… that’s what I call it ‘feeling good’ and ‘making love’, but it’s also known as ‘sexual pleasure’.” You blinked at him, whose face just blushed more.

“I-I… I want to make you feel this good too.” He stated before suddenly jumping his body upwards and placing his hands on your boobs, already beginning a rhythm of fondling them to match yours.

You couldn’t deny you were surprised at the move, moaning in a high-pitched tone while your walls clamped around nothing once again when he pinched your nipples, but you didn’t mind it at all. Instead, you wanted him to continue… in another place.

“I know a better place for that…” You whispered with a gentle voice, knowing it always made Kabukimono’s ear twitch.

“S-Show me!” He let go off your boobs and rested both his palms open in front of you so you could move them as you wished to.

Unfortunately, you had to ruin some of the tension that was building up by taking your right hand away from his dick, the same way he did to yours boobs. You slid the rest of your kimono, that has been resting in your hips all along, until it was fully in the floor. Then, you slid your panties to your knees, too lazy and needy to waste your time taking it all off. Then you sat down again and begun reshaping his hand to a new form like you were messing with clay, gently grabbing after finishing it to place it to your vertical lips, which made Kabukimono’s eyes widen in curiosity by the second and force his arm to stone in its place.

“W-What’s that..?” He asked, trying to take a closer peek of your pussy before actually touching it.

“It’s called a ‘vagina’, but it’s better to call it a ‘pussy’… it’s where I urinate and also where I feel the most good.” Your own cheeks got flushed as you explained about your own organ, who was aching to be touched by those soft hands of his. “Wanna try it by your own?” You pleaded as you spread your legs further away from each other for his benefit.

He quietly nodded while sliding his hand to your pussy smoothly, ready to coop it on top of it, but as soon as he felt the wet of it barely leaking from your hole, he took his hand away from you like he had just touched acid.

“W-What is that..?!” His entire face went red as he got nervous.

You couldn’t help but giggle, thinking that he was probably guessing that was pee.

“Don’t worry, Kabuki, it’s not pee..! It’s just that when you make a girl feel good like you were just doing to me, she gets wet like this, just like you got a little hard when I touched you.” You carefully explained, gently running a finger at your entrance to grab some of your wet and show him what it was.

“B-But why would you get wet..? And why would I get hard..?” He asked as he cautiously looked at your finger.

“For us to make love… but I won’t show it to you yet, you still need more accommodation.” He made a whiny face as you hid the answer away from him, but decided to go along with what you were previously doing.

“Oh… that looks sweet.” He commented as his eyes lingered on your wet finger like a curious kid.

“You can try it if you want to… I don’t think it tastes good tho…” You brought your finger closer to him so he could taste it.

His mouth approached your finger and opened enough to stick his tongue out and lick the pool of wet resting at the tip of your finger.

“Tastes… salty.” He commented, a little reluctant while moving his tongue around his mouth to taste your juices better.

“There’s no need to keep tasting it… you’re supposed to simply play with it as you wish to…” You joked, giggling at yourself, completely desperate for his soft fingers to caress your swollen cunt again.

“O-Ok…” He nodded, getting his hand back to your folds and caressing them up and down, making your clit ache to receive that much attention too.

And you got your hands back to work in his dick, both of you beginning to pleasure yourselves with your hands while a mess of moans started to take over the room’s previous silence.

“I-Is this… a hole..?” He asked, gently inserting the tip of his finger inside you, which caused you to roll your head behind your shoulders in shock with the sudden pleasure.

“Ah, yes! Keep going..!” You pleaded for him, who simply nodded in shock with your reaction and kept fingering you in and out.

You didn’t even tell him that he was supposed to thrust it repeatedly, but he seemed to have the instincts to do it like a real man would, which relieved you a little. His cold fingers also made you feel even better, melting your entrance in him easily.

Kabukimono couldn’t even think about what was he doing. The pleasure you were giving to his poor virgin dick was numbing his thoughts, and he hated it. He really wanted to find a way to thrust you better, but thankfully, you were also too focused on your own actions to care if he was thrusting you badly or not, your cunt was too hungry to refuse any touch that wasn’t yours. Your grip on his dick tightening according to how good he made you feel.

“You’re really hard, Kabuki… are you enjoying this this much too?” You asked with a flirty voice, leaning closer to his face, inches away from his red lips.

“Y-Yes…” He whimpered.

“Want me to make this even better?” You leaned closer to his ear just to make the boy shiver and nod immediately in desperation for his unrecognized sexual relief.

“There’s more..?!” His eyes widened a little, which made you smirk in amusement.

But it quickly got replaced by you taking your hands away from his erection and use them to push him by the shoulders against the mattress that had been laying down and witnessing the both of you from behind this entire time. You weren’t aggressive of course, why would you want to scare him off from such a pleasurable act that you needed to have once again?

He still got a little shocked and gasped lightly, but still let you have the most power in the moment. But his attention was taken away when he rose his head to see what was one of your hands doing in the back of your bodies.

“Is this… sex..?” He asked while tryin to cover some moans from you running your gummy folds in his tip.

“Yes, indeed. Are you ready to see why I get wet and you get hard..?” You smirked as you moved your hands to undo his kimono away from his chest too, revealing his slim torso.

You were kinda surprised at the fact that he didn’t really have abs after working out so much in the mines, but since he was a puppet, his muscles couldn’t really change, could they?

“Y-Yes…” He moaned, and soon his words were taken over by even more moans because of you slowly fitting all of yourself around his throbbing erection, causing him to arch his back with the weird sensation of your wet warmth squeezing him entirely.

But the thing that mostly called your attention was just how the cold his dick was compared to your cunt, like if all that warming-up was completely useless to his body. The heat shock caused shivers to run down your whole body, also making him to get even harder due to the comfort your warmth gave to his cold body.

“See how they match perfectly with each other..? Do you like it..?” You asked between slight groans, leaning closer to his embarrassed face as his dick warmed up to your temperature.

“Y-Yes… feels weird, but… I want more..!” He moaned out, completely altered by what you were doing to him, even launching his hips upward to feel more of your gummy insides.

“Then I’ll give you more…” You grabbed the boy’s chin and took his lips into a suffocating kiss while you started jerking your hips up and down.

His hands were gripping so tight in the sheets you could even feel bad for him, but he fit so perfectly inside you didn’t really want to stop. Puffy noises could be heard coming out from you whenever you sat down on him due to the arousal of the sex you were doing while your tongues danced with each other maniacally.

“This is why I get wet, Kabuki…” You moaned between the kiss. “So I can slide around you as easily as this… and you get hard so you can easily fit in me..! Isn’t it a funny system..?” You stopped kissing him, but you still kept your foreheads touching each other, feeling his warm breath in your face.

“Y-Yes..! A-And you’re wet because I made you feel good, right..?” He asked, desperately looking for more of your approval, which made you so joyful that you nodded immediately.

“Of course, Kabuki, of course…” You mumbled before launching your mouth right back at his mouth again.

If you never thought of Kabukimono as anything but a friend, now you definitely were. He was perfectly kind and loving like a friend should be, but the most important part of his personality, that you’ve never really paid attention to, was just how respectful, loyal and curious he was about you. He always looked up to you when he had a question, he always praised you for teaching him things, calling you wonderful, amazing and many other things. He was too naive to be unfaithful or disrespectful to you, like… you couldn’t picture him leaving your apartment as soon as he was done with this, like other men did, or tell everyone about his newest achievement of getting you under him in a bed, like all of the men did. You couldn’t even tell if Kabukimono liked you in a romantic way, but you definitely wanted him to. You wanted to be the only woman he committed those acts with, the same way you were beginning to wish he was the only man doing that you did that with.

“F-Feels too good..!” He whined, tears appearing at the corner of his eyes as he forced your mouths to stop kissing, a chord of saliva connecting you two indirectly for some quick seconds before it broke and fell on his chin.

You smirked at the view you had of him under you, but you were soon cut by Kabukimono strength suddenly acting on you.

It was sudden, but Kabukimono really moved his hands to your shoulders and pulled himself upwards, pushing the both of you down the floor again, his balls still shoved deep inside you. You didn’t protest at all but you were surprised he had the instinct to do that.

“I-I want to… do it too…” He whispered, his mouth and arms trembling in exhaustion, barely drooling on top of you.

His kimono had also fallen all the way to his knees, fully giving you a hot view of his naked body as his dick grinded inside your gummy hole.

“It’s ok… go ahead…” You smiled at him, using your hands to caress his back carefully, stimulating him to fuck you already.

His hips bucked once into yours slowly, really unsure of his own actions although he really wanted to be doing it, but you were so turned on, anything made you feel good at this point.

“Y-Yes… just like that… nice and slow~…” You moaned as you spread your legs further away from each other for him, approaching both your bodies to each other.

“You like it like this..?” He bucked his hips some more times into you, more comfortable with your opinion at his sloppy thrusts.

“Yes… you’re doing a good job, Kabuki…” You moaned out his name, which caused a whiny groan to come out of him.

“S-S… say that again…” He pleaded, his speed slightly increasing, although his thrusts weren’t precise at all.

“Kabuki..?” You asked, making him moan loudly again and tighten his grip in the hay floor by your head. “Kabuki~…” You repeated it, but better, making the poor puppet have to tug his face under your neck in desperation for any strength.

“Yes… my name..! I want that to be my real name..!” He moaned with a hoarse voice whille moving his hands down to your waist just to hug you in an angle where he could feel your chest against his and where he could also make love to your needy hole without having to wate all of his little remaining energy.

If it wasn’t for his will to keep going, he would’ve crumbled on top of you a long time ago. You could feel just how shaky his knees were from all the exhaustion. Seems like you had really managed to turn him addicted to the feeling even if it was just his first time ever doing it. He was determined to keep reaching for more pleasure like it was a law set on stone for him. He didn’t even know sex had its peak yet, and you knew he would get even more surprised, excited and exhausted with the information you were going to tell him soon. But right now, you just wanted to feel the tip of his cock punching your gummy walls until it kissed your cervix and hear the poor puppet whining beautifully right on your ears whenever he did that.

Poor little Kabukimono couldn’t even bring himself to pull out more than half of his dick from you, just like if he wanted to simply be embraced the warmth of your insides for the rest of it, cockwarming himself although his dick and his whole body didn't even feel cold anymore. Its temperatue had managed to perfectly balance with yours because of all that energy you two were wasting on each other.

“Y-Y/N-sama... I feel weird...” He whispered in a very weirded-out tone, rising his head to stare at you but not daring to stop fucking you.

“How come..?” You stared right back into the deepest corners of his pupils, moving a hand upwards to caress the poor boy's head as he vented to you.

“S-Something... inside me... I think I need to go to the bathroom..!” He explained while slowing down his rhythm considerably, making a perverted grin to grow in your lips immediately as you remembered that you needed to talk to him about the orgasm.

“Oh, Kabuki... you don’t need to go to the bathroom..! Believe it or not, there’s still a final step you need to learn, so keep going and do not stop.” His eyes widened in surprise once again but he decided to not protest and listen to you. “You’re about to reach the peak of sex... the peak of pleasure... we call it an orgasm... we’ve been building it ever since we started touching each other…” You explained while trying to hold back the multiple moans he was causing you to have due to how he went back to his previous rhythm of pushing his hips into youtrs. “I think I’m also reaching too... so we’re gonna do it together, isn’t that amazing..?” You pulled his head closer to your just to feel his sweaty forehead against yours again.

“Y-yes... are you sure this is the final step tho..? You keep saying there’s a new thing when you say it’s the last one..!” He protested in a childish tone which made you giggle.

“I am a 100% sure this is the last step now, Kabuki... it's nothing as special as all of this.. you’ll see... but I need you just fuck me a little faster!” You pleaded, finally letting some of your sluttiness get out of its cage, the same ones you've been holding inside your head this entire time to make the experience more about him rather than you.

Thanfully, Kabukimono wasn’t selfish or proud of himself, so he simply nodded his head weakly and went back to hammering your hole full of his dick to reach both your orgasms, shoving his head back to its little hiding spot in you neck again.

“C-Can I kiss you here, Y/N-sama..?” He whined while touching the tip of his nose in the side of your neck, his lips already touching it in a trembly way.

“Of course you can, Kabuki! I’m even surprised you felt the will to do that...” You turned your head to his to whisper in his ear as he launched his lips into your muscles, making out with it very gently.

Since you hadn’t really taken your hand away from the back of his head, you decided to go back at caressing it, which was making the poor puppet’s body twitch every now and then. That part of his body was ticklish as expected and you wanted him to feel good, so you just relaxed most of your muscles and let him enjoy the magic of a wet pussy for the first time. After all, Kabukimono was obviously not mastered in having sex (yet), so his thrusts were more relaxing than breathtaking to you, but it didn’t mean it was making you feel turned off.

Still, even if he didn’t have any idea of what he was doing and how to do it, a certain bulge was beginning to evolve quicker in your womb, warning your body that you were indeed about to reach an orgasm. Perhaps, that whole masturbation session and your newest attraction for him made it easier for your body to experience sexual pleasure.

“I-I’m gonna cum, Kabuki..!” You warned him, although you knew he had no idea of what you meant by that.

“I-Is that… the peak thing..? Because if it is, I think I’m gonna do that too.. my balls feel… really heavy..!” The lack of breath in his body didn’t even allow him to tell you something in a full sentence, his will to cry barely becoming true as you heard his voice break multiple times.

“Yes..! You’re gonna cum too!” Your other hand in his back scratched him not so gently, which caused him to let out a deep groan from the back of his throat, but you were really just trying to feel more of him.

And it really didn’t last long to build up the orgasm in that position because Kabukimono had really been building it up all this time. Even that mechanism in his body perfectly resembled a human’s one. It was hot and sticky as expected, even hotter than a man’s cum, causing your womb to ache with the slightly fiery feeling of both your orgasms fighting for space inside there. Kabukimono threw his head aback and screamed the loudest the he could, completely shocked and unused to that euphoric feeling, but he made sure to keep some self control to keep himself loading all of his essence inside you, no matter if his hands were having to give their soul to keep him on top of you.

The moment lasted for a good while since his orgasm was way longer than yours, but you made sure to welcome every single drop of his cum inside you so he could understand the fun of having an orgasm in the first place.

When his cock finally ended milking every single miligram of his cum from his virgin body, he simply crumbled and fell on top of you with eyes closed shut, still with his cock shoved in you so he wouldn’t get rid of that addicting feeling of a gummy pussy. Your hands simply tapped his back in response, trying to make the poor puppet comfortable to relax on top of you after such exhausting round of sex.

“Liked it..?” You asked, holding back a little giggle.

“Y-Yes… I did…” He said while breathing heavily multiple times, his voice stll sounding whiny.

“Come here…” You hugged his back harder and guided him into the loose mattress of your bed again, ending with you and him laying side by side, centimeters away from each other and staring at each other romantically. “Thank you, Kabuki-kun…” You whispered while moving a hand to throw a piece of his hair behind his ear, which made him grin and his cheeks to flush in a pinkish tone.

“No… I should be the one thanking you for teaching me so many new things in a single question…” He avoided eye contact with you.

You couldn't hold it anymore, he looked too cute for you to not hug him, so that's what exactly you did. You threw yourself against the boy's chest and slid your hands under his arms to hug his back once again. He quickly hugged you back, squeezing your head closer to his chest unintentionally. It was weird how you couldn’t hear anything from inside it, but it really didn’t matter if he didn’t have a heart or not to you, he had a soul and a very alive one.

“You’re welcome, Kabuki…” You finally allowed yourself to close your eyes and begin to fall asleep.

You assumed Kabukimono was doing the same, even if sleeping didn’t have any benefits to him. After all, he was extremely quiet and he sounded like he was focusing on his breathing, rolling his fingers in some strands of your hair playfully just like other men did when they decided to spend the rest of the night with you.

“Y/N-sama… do you mind if I ask you something before you fall asleep..?” He suddenly whispered, which didn’t scare you at all, so you didn’t even mind moving a muscle to open your eyes again.

“Yeah, go ahead…” You answered in a sleepy tone.

“When can we do that again?”

Don’t forget to like and comment if you liked it <3

Taglist: @alatusorrow @the-stinky-winky @kindofscenic @amoyanderes @kindofshyent

Requests are open again!

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin smut #smut #wanderer genshin #wanderer #wanderer x reader #scaramouche genshin impact #scaramouche x reader #genshin scara #scara x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n #kabukimono #kabukimono x reader #genshin kabukimono #kunikuzushi #kunikuzushi x reader

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thatdammchickennugget · 2 days

Text

One Of The Guys

pairing -james potter x fem!reader

summary - you have always been one of the guys, but what if you don't want to be anymore?

warnings - insecure reader, some teasing, fluff, gryffindor!reader

wordcount - 2.4k

a/n - first fic in months and the anxiety posting this is higher than ever! hope you like!

You’d always been one of the guys. Since first year, when you’d been sorted into Gryffindor with Sirius, James, Remus, and Peter, it just made sense. You spent your days causing trouble with them, sneaking into the kitchens for midnight snacks, planning pranks, and laughing at inside jokes only you lot seemed to understand. You were as much a Marauder as any of them, and you wore that title like a badge of honor.

In some ways, being "one of the guys" had always felt natural. You were never the girl who fussed with her hair, never bothered with makeup or cared much about fashion. While the other girls in your year experimented with nail polish and tried different spells to make their hair curl just right, you’d been happier wearing trousers and comfortable jumpers, getting dirt on your shoes as you kicked a ball around with the boys or plotted another prank.

The boys never treated you any differently. You were as rough and tumble as they were, always up for an adventure or a laugh, whether it was dueling in the corridors, sneaking out under the Invisibility Cloak, or hanging around the Quidditch pitch, watching James practice his broom skills while you tossed playful insults his way. They teased you, sure, but it was never about your appearance. It was always about how you accidentally hexed Sirius’s hair to turn pink that one time or how Remus beat you at Wizard’s Chess two weeks in a row.

But lately, something had started to shift. You’d been spending more time with the girls—Marlene, Lily, Alice, and Mary. It wasn’t like you abandoned your usual activities with the boys, but something about hanging out with the girls had made you realize that maybe you’d been missing out on a whole other side of yourself. They weren’t as concerned with pranks or causing trouble, but they had their own kind of fun—painting nails, talking about what charms they used to keep their hair shiny, and swapping makeup tips. At first, it had all seemed foreign to you, like you didn’t belong. But, bit by bit, you began to get into it. And even though it was obvious you were out of your element, they never made you feel left out because of it.

It started small. A dab of lip gloss here, a charm to make your hair lie flat there. Nothing too crazy. You didn’t want to completely abandon who you were. But when Marlene offered to paint your nails a deep, shimmery red one afternoon, you figured why not? It was fun, in a way you hadn’t expected.

The girls never treated you like you needed to change, and that made it easier. They were all for letting you do your own thing, and whenever you felt out of place, they’d remind you that it was about what made you feel good, not about impressing anyone else.

Still, there was one person’s opinion you couldn’t quite shake.

James Potter.

You weren’t sure when it had started, this nagging crush you had on him. Maybe it had always been there, buried under layers of friendship and pranks. But recently, every time he smiled at you with that lopsided grin of his, something inside you flipped. Every time his hand brushed yours when you reached for something at the same time, your heart would race a little faster. He’d never looked at you like he looked at the girls who swooned over him—like you were someone to notice beyond just being “one of the guys.”

And you hated how much that bothered you.

It wasn’t like you wanted to change for him. But some part of you wondered if he’d ever see you differently if you weren’t always running around in jeans and messy ponytails.

So, that Saturday morning, when you slipped on the dress Lily had convinced you to buy during one of your Hogsmeade trips, you felt like a fish out of water. It wasn’t anything too fancy—just a simple green dress that hugged your frame in a way your usual clothes never did. You’d even put a little effort into your hair, letting it fall loose around your shoulders instead of shoving it into a messy bun like you normally did. Your nails were still painted red from the other night, and you’d borrowed a light bit of makeup from Mary, who had smiled and assured you it wasn’t “too much.”

But as you stood in front of the mirror, you hardly recognized yourself. The tomboy in you felt like you were playing dress-up in someone else’s clothes. It was so far from your usual style that you couldn’t help but wonder if you were making a mistake.

Still, part of you wanted to try it out—to see if maybe, James would look at you differently today. Maybe he’d see something more than the girl who could throw a punch as good as Sirius or outrun Peter when Filch caught you roaming the halls after curfew.

You took a deep breath, smoothing the fabric of the dress one last time before heading down to the common room.

ੈ♡˳

When you reached the common room, you were immediately met with the sight of the boys lounging around like usual. James and Sirius were in the middle of some animated conversation while Remus read a book nearby, and Peter was munching on something from the kitchens. None of them had noticed you yet, which only made the nerves bubbling in your stomach worse.

It was Sirius who spotted you first. He turned to call for James, but his words faltered when his eyes landed on you. His mouth fell open slightly, and a slow grin spread across his face.

"Well, well, well," he drawled, standing up from the couch with a mock bow. "What do we have here? Y/N, in a dress? I never thought I’d see the day."

The others looked up at his words, their eyes finding you in an instant. You tried to smile, but the way their gazes seemed to linger made you want to shrink into the floor.

James was staring at you, his expression unreadable. His warm eyes widened just a fraction, his usual cheeky grin faltering as his gaze swept over you. But before you could figure out what that look meant, Sirius spoke up again.

"Blimey, didn’t know you owned anything besides jeans and jumpers," Sirius teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "You sure you’re feeling alright?"

You forced a laugh, trying to shrug off the growing discomfort. “Yeah, just, uh, thought I’d try something new.”

Remus closed his book and smiled at you warmly. “You look nice,” he said, his tone sincere but still carrying a hint of playfulness.

But Peter, never one to read the room right, piped up from the couch. “Who knew you could look like a girl?” he said with a chuckle, and Sirius howled with laughter, clearly finding the whole thing hilarious.

James finally spoke up, his voice quieter than usual. "You do look nice, Y/N," he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. But his tone—sincere as it was—couldn’t erase the sting of the teasing from the others.

You laughed along with them, but inside, the knot of unease tightened. You weren’t mad at them; you knew they didn’t mean to hurt you. But every comment, every joke, made you feel more and more like an imposter in your own skin. Like you weren’t really supposed to be this person, this version of you that wore dresses and makeup and tried to be something more than “one of the guys.”

"I—I’m gonna go change," you muttered, not trusting yourself to look at James when you said it.

Sirius frowned, his laughter fading. “Wait, we were only joking, Y/N. You don’t have to—”

But you were already halfway to the dorms, the sound of their voices fading behind you as you fled.

ੈ♡˳

You ripped off the dress the moment you were alone, tossing it onto the bed and quickly pulling on your usual jeans and jumper. The relief was immediate, but the ache in your chest didn’t go away.

There was a knock at the door.

“Y/N?” James’s voice called softly from the other side. You hesitated but opened the door anyway, finding him standing there, looking uncertain for the first time in a long while.

“You didn’t have to change,” he said, stepping inside. “You looked… you looked beautiful.”

Your heart jumped at his words, but the discomfort from earlier still weighed heavily on you. You shrugged, sitting on the edge of your bed, not quite ready to meet his eyes. “It didn’t feel right,” you admitted softly. “I just... I don’t think I’m cut out for that sort of thing.”

James frowned, walking over to stand in front of you. He shoved his hands into his pockets, his gaze lingering on the discarded dress. “We weren’t trying to make you feel bad, you know. We’re just not used to seeing you like that.”

“I know.” You sighed, rubbing your hands over your face. “It’s just—” You paused, struggling to find the right words. “I thought maybe if I tried something different, I could, I don’t know, feel like... more than just one of the guys for once.”

James was silent for a moment, and when you finally looked up at him, there was something soft in his eyes—something that made your heart skip a beat. “You’ve never been just one of the guys, Y/N.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice.

He stepped closer, his expression earnest. “I don’t think you get it. You’re—” He hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “You’re amazing the way you are. Jeans, jumpers, all of it. You don’t need a dress or makeup to make anyone notice you.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you weren’t sure if you were reading too much into his words, but then James ran a hand through his hair, looking uncharacteristically flustered. “I’ve liked you for ages, Y/N. And not because of what you wear. Because you’re you.”

You stared at him, stunned into silence. He... liked you?

James let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, you’re brilliant. You’re tough, you’re funny, and you’re always there when we need you. That’s what I like about you. That’s what matters.”

You felt your cheeks warm, and for a moment, some of the insecurities you’d felt earlier melted away. “You’ve liked me?” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, grinning sheepishly. “Yeah. For a while now. Just didn’t know how to say it without mucking it up.”

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips, your heart swelling with something you hadn’t expected to feel today—hope. "Well, you didn’t muck it up too badly," you teased, a bit of the old you returning.

James grinned, relief evident in his face. “So, what do you say, Y/N? Maybe next Hogsmeade weekend, we could go together. Just us?”

Your stomach flipped, but this time, it wasn’t from nerves. It was excitement. “I’d like that,” you said softly, the smile on your face growing wider.

As the excitement simmered between you, a question began to bubble up in the back of your mind, nagging at you even though you were already starting to feel more at ease.

"James?" you began, your voice a little uncertain as you glanced up at him, still seated on the edge of the bed. He tilted his head slightly, waiting for you to continue. "Would it be... weird if I did want to wear dresses sometimes?"

James blinked, surprised by the question, but the soft smile on his face didn’t waver. "Weird? No, not at all," he said quickly, stepping closer until he was standing right in front of you. He knelt down, so his face was level with yours sitting on the bed, his eyes warm and serious. "Why would it be weird?"

You hesitated, unsure how to explain the knot of confusion that had been sitting in your chest all day. "I don’t know," you said, fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve. "It’s just... I’ve always been more comfortable in my clothes. I never really thought about wearing anything else. But lately, hanging out with the girls and seeing how much fun they have with it... I guess it made me curious, you know?"

James listened, his eyes never leaving yours, and nodded for you to continue.

"I don’t want to change who I am," you added quickly, your words tumbling out before you could stop them. "But I also think... I want to try new things, and I don’t want you—or the others—to think I’m not being myself."

There was a beat of silence before James reached out and gently placed a hand on yours, his touch grounding. "Y/N, you’re allowed to wear whatever you want," he said softly. "It doesn’t change who you are. Whether you’re in a dress or your favorite old jumper, you’re still you. That’s what matters."

You looked at him, searching his face for any sign of doubt, but all you saw was sincerity. "You really think so?"

"I know so," he replied with a grin. "Look, the dress was a surprise, sure. But if you want to wear dresses sometimes? That’s just another part of you we get to know. And trust me, Y/N, you could show up in a full ball gown, and it wouldn’t change a thing about how we see you."

You felt a smile creeping back onto your face, warmth spreading through your chest as his words sank in.

James squeezed your hand, his gaze softening. "Besides," he added, his voice a little more playful now, "if you ask me, you look great no matter what you wear. But you should do what feels right for you. Not for us, not for anyone else."

You laughed, a little embarrassed by how much his words affected you, but you couldn’t help the lightness you felt now. "Thanks, James. That... actually helps a lot."

He stood up, his grin returning to that familiar, cheeky smile that always made your heart race. "So," he said, offering you a hand to help you up, "how about we head back downstairs, and you can wear whatever the bloody hell you want, yeah?"

You took his hand, standing up. "Yeah," you agreed, feeling more like yourself than you had all day. "Sounds like a plan."

Masterlist

Requesting Guidelines

#james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter #james potter fic #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter imagine #marauders era #marauders #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #marauder x reader #writing #fanfiction #fanfic #mari writes

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outermaybanks · 22 hours

Text

practice part iii - part one // part two a/n: didn't have the energy to proofread we die like men. cw for manipulation (less than previous parts tho), p in v, 18+ mdni

“You sure ‘bout this, cupcake?” JJ asked, his breathing already heavy as he practically drools, staring at the wet spot forming on your panties. “Just want to go a bit further… just a little bit,” you mumbled needily. The air felt thicker, your heart racing, an impulse driven by a feeling you had never felt before, but everything in you told you JJ was the answer. “Just on the outside?” JJ asked, to which you nodded, and that was all the confirmation JJ needed before planting his hands on either side of your head, then leaning on his forearm as he carefully guided his pink, leaking tip to press against your clothed cunt. The friction alone made you let out a sweet sound of pleasure, one that would be burned into JJ’s memory.

His breathing started to pick up, even you weren’t oblivious to the way he seemed to ache for more, mimicking your own pathetic need as his hips move erratically, trying anything to get the best angle, but it wasn’t enough for you, a needy whine falling from your throat. JJ knew what you needed, he needed it too.

“It’d feel better without your panties in the way,” JJ quickly offered. “But… Jay… that’s basically-” “Just the tip, it doesn’t count… it’ll feel real good, princess, promise. Have I been wrong before?”

JJ had been plenty wrong in the duration of your friendship, but you really, really wanted him to be right.

“Okay… but just a little bit.”

“Here-” JJ said before wrapping his arm around you, rolling you do you rested on his lap, him beneath you. “This way you’re in charge, mkay?”

His words made you furrow your eyebrows together, and JJ could see the confusion written on your face, so he rested his hands on your hips, slowly moving you back and forth against him. You quickly understood what he was getting on, so you placed your hands flat on his chest, and hesitantly started grinding against him like you did to your pillow late at night. It didn’t take long for you to figure out that his tip brushing against your clit felt like heaven.

“There- you can- can control how much you want to go in, kay?” JJ said softly, trying to maintain his composure, trying to keep you thinking this was still all your idea. “How much is- I mean-” “Don’t worry about that. Just do what feels right, baby” JJ practically purred, sitting up to put his hands on the back of your head, pulling you down to press his lips against yours. As your focus shifted to kissing him, it took you a second to realize JJ’s other hand had moved to your thigh, rubbing and kneading the flesh softly before sliding his hand under them to lift you slightly. He was getting impatient, he needed to feel you, but he knew he couldn’t push, not when he was finally so close. No, you had to be the one to take this next step.

“JJ- you sure this okay?” you asked between labored breaths. “Yeah, ‘course I am… I mean- if you don’t want to-” “No, no, no, I do, I promise”

“There’s nothing wrong with it, baby, we’re friends, we’re just helping each other feel good. Friends want friends to feel good, right?”

You nod, “Yeah, you’re right.”

JJ smiled before putting his hand on the back of your head, pulling you in for another kiss. His kiss always left you feeling drunk, and this moment was no exception. JJ’s hand guided yours to his dick, helping you angle it and line it up against you. The pressure against you had you craving more, and you found yourself desperate to believe JJ: just the tip, it doesn’t count.

Your fingers grip the fabric of his shirt as you try to lower yourself just a bit, JJ was quick to help, and when you felt him inside, both of you let out a relieved groan at the feeling. Suddenly, it felt like this was always supposed to happen. And you wanted more.

“Mm.. J…” you whined softly, hoping he could read your mind. “Yeah baby?” he practically hissed through gritted teeth, trying to control himself. Instead of using words, you let out another whine, but JJ understood perfectly. “You want more, cupcake?”

You didn’t want to answer, didn’t want to say what you really wanted out loud. But JJ could read it on your face.

“Take what you need, baby, s’okay.”

You bit your lip as you sank down further, your focus on the concentration; telling yourself just a little more, just a little more- until your head fell back from the overwhelming feeling of being filled by JJ, your hips collapsing down, unable to hold yourself up.

JJ let out a hiss, his hands immediately coming to your hips. “Sh-Shit-” “JJ…” you whine needily, your arms wrapping around his neck.

“Shh, I got you, cupcake. Want me to stay still? Or-” “Want you to move, please JJ-” you mumbled, surrendering to your urges. JJ didn’t need to be told twice; he had waited a long time for this moment. One of JJ’s arms snaked around you, taking hold of your waist to lift you softly so he could thrust up into you, making your head fall against his shoulder.

“There you go, baby, I’m here, I gotcha,” JJ said softly into your ear, but you could barely bring yourself to focus. “God you feel so fucking good… knew you would.”

Your breathing was getting heavier, breathier, the praise made your body feel warm all over. Small whines and whimpers escaped your throat right into JJ’s ears as if the sinful sounds created by your sloppy cunt wasn’t enough evidence of the pleasure he was giving you. Your body was still humming from the ecstasy of your first orgasm, there was no way you were lasting long, not when your body was still buzzing from your first orgasm, not when he filled you so perfectly, his hips moving at just the right pace; it was like JJ already perfectly understood your body, and knew what you needed before you did.

“‘M gonna…” you mustered out. “JJ-” “I know… can feel it… s’okay, baby, let go for me…”

Your breathing got faster and faster, your moans grew louder and louder, you came with a cry of his name, your arms holding onto him for dear life.

Neither of you moved, just staying perfectly still minus the rapid rising and falling of your chests as your both pant for air. As the lustful fog started to fade away, a slight panic started to rise in your chest: had you made a terrible mistake? Is your friendship with JJ ruined forever?

Before your anxiety could spiral any further, JJ spoke. “God you have… no idea how… how long I wanted to… do that,” JJ breathed out between labored breaths, as if he knew you needed some reassurance that this was still okay.

“That was… Oh my god…” your breathing still hadn’t returned to normal. JJ chuckled, moving some hair out of your face, admiring the blissed out look you had, his eyes trailing from the hazy look in your eyes, to the way your heart was still beating out of your chest, and he knew in that moment he could never go back to pretending he didn’t feel this desire for you.

“You did so good, baby… now, next time you’re feeling needy like that, you just call me right on over, ‘kay cupcake? Papa J will come take care of you.”

#outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #jj #jj maybank #obx #jj maybank x reader

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insomanic-fanfication · 2 days

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Hey, I really liked your Dick Grayson sfw and nsfw alphabets! When you have the time, can I request either of those for Jason Todd? Thanks 😊

Jason Todd SFW Alphabet

Author's note: Of course! I planned on doing his anyway after finishing some of my drafts. But that's taking a little longer than I thought it would. CW:

Alphabet Under the cut!

Affection: How affectionate are they? How do they show it?

Jason isn't really affectionate, at least in open places. He's got way too many people wanting his head on a pike. Family and friends know you two are dating; however, if someone on the outside saw you two, they would have no idea. However, when you two are alone, his true colors bleed through. His personality is similar to that of a huge dog that hasn't figured out they can't be a lap dog anymore. Laying his head on your lap while you do your own things. He is reading a book, and you do one of your hobbies. Just decompressing from the day Comfortably in science and enjoying the other's presence. Will 100% fall asleep if you start playing with his hair.

Best Friend: What are they like as best friends? How would you become best friends?

Unless he needed to ask you for something, you would probably have had to make the first move toward friendship. Jason gets very lonely, but trying to meet new people on his own accord is not part of his personality. If he approached you, it would be one of two things; 1. You did something that impressed him, or 2. Dick was pestering him about meeting new people too much, and he caved to make Dick leave him alone.

Cuddles: Do they like to cuddle? How would they?

Jason hesitates to cuddle at first; it's not that he hates it, but more so, he fears it. For the most part, positive physical interaction is a foreign concept in his body. For the first few times he cuddles, he will flinch, and it doesn't matter which one of you enacted it. But once he gets to the point of cuddling, where you two can cuddle, he is relaxed? Your fate is sealed. You've created a monster! Anytime you're not busy in the apartment, it's cuddle time, and no protests are allowed. Will get pouty if you have to get up.

Domestic: Do they want to settle down? How good are they at cooking and cleaning?

Jason is one of the Batfam members who would settle down in a heartbeat, even if it's just for a year or two. He craves at least some normality. But if he does, no one can protect the ones he loves, at least not well, in his opinion. Unlike his brothers, Jason is an excellent cook and even a chef with his skills. One of his favorite early memories is helping and learning to cook with Alfred. He's also very good at cleaning, partly cause his spaces are the bare-bone things to live in. However, he likes to clean his apartment or space once weekly as a coping mechanism. It's something he feels he is in complete control over. However, if you find him randomly deep-cleaning a room or his apartment. BE AFRAID; he's not okay, no matter how often he tries to tell you he is alright. For him, that is grippy sock stay levels that are not okay.

Ending: If they had to break up? How would they?

Like Dick, if you two broke up and he was the one that broke it off, it was due to him having an episode. But unlike Dick, it would be out of paranoia. Jason would make himself believe that your life will be destroyed. or you'll die because you are dating him. He would most likely ghost you and not actually break up with you. Because the words would pain him too much to say out loud. Only coming to his senses after the episode has passed, realizing his actions, and imminently finding you in person, terrified he fucked up everything between you both.

Fiance: How do they feel about commitment? How long before they pop “the question”?

Jason didn't want marriage for a long while, too terrified that it would make something go wrong. However, the longer the relationship goes on, nothing terrible happens like he expected. The more the thought of marriage would come into his mind. Asking what your thoughts on marriage are one night while cuddling.

Gentle: How gentle are they? Both physically and Emotionally?

Jason is incredibly gentle with his partners, partly due to his personality and partly because he fears accidentally hurting you. He's a little rough around the edges emotionally, though, mostly because he's not used to being a completely open book to people.

Hugs: Do they like hugs? What are their hugs like?

Jason hugs like a dad coming home after a long trip. He'll hug your waist and lift you, keeping you in his arms with the biggest smile. He'll kiss your forehead while you feel the warmth of his body around you.

I love you: How fast do they say the L-word?

Jason would be extremely slow to say the actual' I love you' wording, but he would make up for it in physical affection and words of affirmation. Holding you as close as he can while telling you how much you mean to him and how great of a partner you are to him. So, people may mistake it for love bombing, which added to his other behavior. But it's because it's so hard for him to verbally tell you he loves you. He feels he needs to say it to you in other words, so you know how much his heart bleeds for you.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? What would they do?

Jason gets super jealous; he won't control who you talk to or anything like that. He knows you have a life outside your guy's relationship, and it's not his place to manage. But he's protective of you and gets jealous when others flirt with you because, in the back of his mind, it's hard for him to believe someone would date him. So he's worried that you'll find someone more accessible to love, and you'll give up on him. Does it sound balls off the wall crazy? Yes, but mental illness is rarely something that likes to make sense.

Kissing: What are their kisses like? Where do they like to be kissed/ kiss you?

Jason loves it when you kiss places on him that are generally done on the submissive partner, such as his knuckles, neck, forehead, etc. He finds them so comforting and feels very loved.

Little ones: How are they around kids?

Jason is great around kids unless it's his brothers. Generally speaking, though, he's very good with kids. Sometimes, he understands what's okay for a kid or not. He'll let a toddler he's watching fidget with an unloaded gun if they are very interested in it. But he'll explain to the kid in terms they understand gun safety and how you know a gun is loaded or not. Telling the kid you never treat a gun like it's a toy. It is a 100% safe choice for a kid to go to if they can't find their parent.

Morning: How are they during the mornings?

He's a morning person but a lazy morning person. He'll wake up at 5-6 and do dishes, eat, and do morning stretches, but he will not do any actual work until around noon. God forbid the poor man has a morning shift, no matter what his day job is. He'll be the grumpiest man in the world, but he hides it well from clients/ customers. Some of his coworkers get very confused of this very quick change of mood, but others just see that, and think 'Same brick wall dude, Same'.

Nights: How are they spent with them?

He is a huge Night Owl, wither that be doing the bulk of his work at Night, or having a nice cuddle session with you while having a smoke on the fire escape of the apartment. He is a very light sleeper, or deep sleep with every hour or so waking back up. He also has a lot of night terrors, so he tends to avoid sleep, ESPECIALLY if you are staying over at his place. He has a lot of 'what if i hurt you..' paranoia.

Open: When would they start revealing things about themselves?

Try to get Jason to open up, is like trying to open a can with no can opener. You may have be in a relationship with him for 5 years, and still not know everything about him. Not because he doesn't trust you not to use that against him. But because he struggles with knowing WHEN to open up about things in a relationship. He wants to make sure your twos relationship is a healthy as it can be, which every now and then dose end up causing problems. Especially when he's having a ptsd episode and you feel helpless within how to help him through it.

Patience: How easily angered are they?

He tries to be a laid back person, tries to be, is the wording there, he doesn't have a hair thin trigger, but sometimes his trauma just gets triggers by something he doesn't even see the connection to, so he's in a pissed off fight response for a bit. He does, however go to anger management therapy to try and help these behavior issues. But somethings slip through the cracks before they can be brought up in therapy. This does not stop him from bragging to his siblings, that he's the only one taking care of his mental health.

Quizzes: They remember everything or nothing about you?

It's like a scale, sometimes he remembers everything, other times he can't remember your favorite hoodie, (it's the one that's been used as a pillowcase for 3 months, because he missed holding you). He can dissociate for a long awhile, but him also bottling up his emotions plays a bigger role in this.

Remember: What is their favorite memory in the relationship?

The first time you fell asleep while cuddling with him. You both were watching cheesy 90s slashers for Halloween night, snuggled in almost a cocoon of blankets and snacks. When he turned to check on why you had been so quiet, you had falling asleep while being snuggled so far into him, that he half expected for you to fuse into his side. The amount of trust you had for him, the emotions he felt was too much and he ended up crying for the first time in years. the tears feeling like they were burning his eyes, but it's still a memory he holds closest to his heart.

Security: How protective are they? How would you protect each other?

No matter what your appearance is, wither that be tall and lanky or short n stout. Jason tends not to need a lot of physical protection, but you are most defiantly the protector of his emotional peace and social battery. Think of it like a Pitbull done with his guarding of the house for the day, so runs to their favorite human to become the biggest cuddle bug on earth. That's Jason Todd, (He's very Resurce dog coded, don't blame me, blame DC). He very much, however, is scary looking guard dog for you. He could kill someone with his death glare sometimes.

Try: How much effort would they put into dates, gifts, anniversaries, etc?

Jason puts an extreme amount of effort into your anniversaries, gifts and dates! He's not a social able person, so don't expect fancy Lucious dinner dates at a 5 star restaurant. They make him very uncomfortable, thinking everyone's eyes are on him. But he will make you the most romantic and gushy homemade dinners, your favorite flowers or candy. Cooking Red type pastas with red wine or cooking a Hispanic dish that learned while growing up around crime ally.

Ugly: What are some bad habits of theirs?

He has a bad habit of pushing you away, instead of telling you what's up. For better, or for worse. Sometimes it's because his crime lord days caught up to close to him, and for your safety he pushed you away. Or on the worse side of things, he's terrified you'll look at him as a monster or not understand where he's coming from with his trauma and his poor mental health, so he tries to keep them from you as long as possible, until he has no choice to tell you, or lose the relationship he has built with you.

Vanity: How concerned are they with their looks?

Honestly, Yes and no, like he cares about his looks more than a person would think, but like.. slightly more. He's not gonna shower every single day on the dot and shave his pubic hair into a sharp clean design. But he absolutely cares about keeping up good hygiene. Though he does have issues with cleaning his teeth, nothings rotting in there, but he is brushing his teeth waaay less than he really should be.

Whole: Would they feel incomplete without you?

No, unless you two date each other until your 4 years into retirement and you die of old age. He will be able to feel the same before you to started dating, because he feels incomplete on a regular basis. Like he isn't able to do enough, BE a enough for anyone to see him how he is as a person now.

Xtra: Random headcanon for them?

Jason use to smoke weed, especially in his teen years, regularly. But now he smokes cigs, problary Marlboro's or Lucky Strikes maybe Camels , and eats edibles every now and then to help with muscle pain and mood swings. (he still hasn't figure out if meds are worth not being able to have a beer whenever he wants.)

He knows he has PTSD, maybe C-PTSD, however he's not quite sure or not that he has BPD or a similar disorder, he's mainly just not internally ready to know the answer to that part of himself just yet. He's barely processed his feelings towards his Mother, so he's not there yet in his healing journey.

Yuck: What are some things they don’t like, in general, or in a partner?

if you have bad few of poor people or think poor people are only poor because they chose to be. Than I'm sorry, but Jason is more likely to pop a bullet in your head than he is to see you in a good light, let alone a romantic one.

Zzz: What is their sleeping habit?

Either waking up every 1 to 2 hours, or only sleeping 30mins to 3 hours and then staying up for the rest of the night or start cleaning or smoking a cig outside.

#crow!writes #fanfication blog #dc comics #x reader #sfw alphabet #jason todd x reader #jason todd x male reader #male reader #gender neutral reader #mlm fanfic #fanfic blog

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writingoddess1125 · 1 day

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Deadpool Headcanon

Dad!Deadpool and GN Reader

Fluffy Weirdness

Kinda just came to me so enjoy? 🤷🏼

Masterlist <<

Kofi <<

• Deadpool, finds out that he has a teenage kid, (Y/N) by total accident.

• A relative of a old fling of his telling him they had his kid before disappearing themselves.

• His reaction is a delightful mix of shock, denial, and inappropriate jokes.

"Wait, I'm someone's dad? Damn- They must be fucked up!"

• But underneath all the sarcasm and one-liners, the idea begins to settle into his brain.

• A tinge of fear eats at his brain and itches under his skin..

• When Wade first digs into (Y/N)’s background—using his "very legal" skills—it’s mostly to make sure they’re not a mini supervillain in training.

• But what he finds instead knocks the wind out of him: (Y/N) has been in and out of the foster system for years.

• That hits him harder than he'd like to admit- making him pace a bit back and forth in thought.

• At first, he doesn’t know how to handle it.

• His own past was screwed up, but seeing his kid going through the same kind of instability?

• It messes with him. Wade cracks a joke to numb the ache.

“Of course, my kid’s in the system… couldn’t have inherited my charm or good looks, huh?”

• Deadpool starts paying more attention, following (Y/N) closely.

• He watches them move from one foster home to another, each one more temporary than the last.

• Sometimes (Y/N) would get picked up by a social worker right after school, with nothing more than a worn-out backpack slung over their shoulder.

• Wade stays out of sight, gripping his weapons tighter than he should, resisting the urge to intervene... for now.

• Seeing (Y/N) trying to stay strong, dealing with bullies, shifting from home to home, makes something snap inside Wade.

• He realizes he’s angry, really angry. No kid, especially not ***his kid*** , should have to feel so lost and abandoned.

• He remembers what it was like to feel that way, and no amount of sex, drugs, or killing can take the edge off that pain.

• Wade starts leaving more than just quirky gifts. In (Y/N)’s locker, there’s a new hoodie with a note, “To make you feel less invisible. You’re worth more than these idiots know. ~ D.”

• Another time, a stuffed unicorn with a note, "Even the toughest need a cuddle buddy." One day, Wade overhears (Y/N) talking to a friend about how they’ll probably get moved again soon

"Yeah, these fosters are.. assholes to put it mildly" (Y/N) jest to one of the few friends they have. Not knowing the hoodie that had mysteriously appeared had a wire hidden in it.

• That night, a hefty envelope shows up in their locker, stuffed with cash and a note that says, “You ever need a place to crash? You’ve got options. Let me know when you’re ready. P.S. This is totally not a bribe. ~D”

"I'm probably gonna get moved again-"

• Deadpool even starts anonymously dropping hints to social workers that (Y/N) should stay in one stable placement, using his "subtle" methods to make sure they’re treated better. He also might’ve scared a foster parent or two into straightening up.

• It doesn't take long for (Y/N) to get to notice all the changes- The social workers treating them better, and now getting to stay with an actually nice family.

• He watches (Y/N) cope with it all, still from a distance hkwever, but now more protective than ever. He knows he can’t change the past, but he can sure as hell make sure (Y/N) doesn’t feel abandoned anymore.

Mini Shot

(Y/N) sat on the roof of the foster home, the cool breeze brushing against their face as they stared out into the dimly lit neighborhood wrapping their read hoodie tighter around themselves. As they sat something caught their eye—a shadowy figure across the way from them perfectly out of view, watching them from a distance. Their heart skipped a beat at first in fear, However after a moment a wash of a unknown familiarity seemed to hit.

Before they could stop themselves, (Y/N) called out softly, "Thank you."

The figure stepped into the light just enough for (Y/N) to catch a glimpse of their hand as they gave them a casual thumbs up.

Without a word, he turned and walked away, vanishing into the night as (Y/N) watched. A sense of pride in Wade's step as he headed off. He'd done it—he'd helped his kid in some way.

And that was enough..

For now

#x reader #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #marvel #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool x reader #deadpool 3 #wade wilson #deadpool movie #Dad!Deadpool

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newbiespud · 2 days

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I'm sure it's been said before but I'll say it myself because why not

The game In Stars and Time makes for a revealing contrast to the movie Groundhog Day in how they treat their final time loop and how that reflects on the main character. (Even though, if I remember right, the dev largely wasn't aware of Groundhog Day when they came up with ISAT.)

Spoilers for both after the break, I guess.

In Groundhog Day, Phil starts out narcissistic and self-centered, has the realization that he can live life without consequences, gets depressed after having tried and done everything that he's got everyone and everything memorized so that nothing can delight and surprise him anymore, and finally escapes when he performs a loop that proves that a better, happier world is within his grasp to make, not something owed to him, and that he is happy with the life he has today, not always pining for his ambitions for the future.

In... In Stars and Time, Siffrin starts out deflecting and aloof, has the realization that they can do this perfectly - 'this' being not only the impossible challenge of defeating the King but navigating their relationships with their party - gets depressed after hitting wall after wall and repeatedly fumbling into faux pas after faux pas with their party, and finally escapes when they perform a loop where their true feelings come out, no matter how ugly, and they're honest about their own desires and wishes rather than trying to keep up an ideal façade.

Plenty of people have pointed out that In Stars and Time subverts the 'escaping on the perfect loop' time-loop trope that Groundhog Day largely codifies. Not only does the 'perfect' loop completely fail, Siffrin escapes on arguably the 'worst' loop, the one where they rightfully worry that they've hurt and alienated their loves ones forever and cannot escape those consequences anymore.

But I don't think this contrast is as direct as it seems, even though one could say that Phil got away scot-free compared to Siffrin and that In Stars and Time is the superior story for portraying a harsher outcome. (I do think that exploration and advancement of tropes is just inevitable and even healthy over time, and Groundhog Day came out in 1993 so of course it and the tropes it spawned deserve modern critique, but I digress.) I actually think that it reflects how both stories and the mechanics of their time loops are built around their main characters. (There's also something to be said about how genre shapes narrative since GD is an existential comedy and ISAT is an action-adventure focusing on interpersonal drama, but that's another digression.)

ISAT makes an impact on the whole time loop genre with its clever subversion, but like all the best subversive stories, it's couched in strong characters that embody its themes.

And to take a broader perspective, the best time loop stories are allegories for the real-life situation of making the same mistakes over and over again caused by your own deep-seated personality flaws, and being forced to finally confront your inner demons and overcome them and become a better, healthier person. (Relatable, much?)

Phil is a man who's never happy with his lot in life, so he needs to learn to find the eternal richness and beauty of what he has within his grasp, and that a better, happier life is something he can make for himself. Thus, he escapes on the 'best' loop.

Siffrin is a person who refuses to share their true feelings and problems with others to the point of self-destruction (and complete reinvention in one aspect), so they need to learn that no matter how ugly and twisted they think they are, being open and honest doesn't mean their loved ones will care about them any less, even when Siffrin is seen at their lowest point possible. Thus, they escape on the 'worst' loop.

It's not just clever subversion, it's holistic circular story structure!

...Though maybe I'm just drawn to these stories because I, too, would like some extra time to Figure Some Shit Out and have that time come with some superpowers along the way, even if it nearly destroys me in the process.

#isat #in stars and time #isat spoilers #literary analysis #groundhog day #writing #story structure #I'm dead certain I'm not the first one to make this write-up #but I gotta get this outta my head you know how it is

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anniebeemine · 2 days

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Count Your Luck- s.r.

a/n: I was thinking about this post for days before I finally sat down to write this. Thank you to @frankiebirds for making the initial post.

warnings: Roommate Spencer, reader insert, slightly illegal activities, mentions of stripping, brief mention of violence, littlest part about a man being creepy

word count: 12.2k words

“This is due at the end of the month?” Spencer asked, his voice tight as he stared at the bill in his hands. The number printed at the bottom was enough to make his heart stop.

The woman behind the counter nodded, her expression softening into one of pity. “Yeah, sugar. By the end of the month.” He could see the sympathy in her eyes, the way she looked at him like he was just a kid in over his head. Because he was.

Spencer swallowed hard, feeling the lump in his throat tighten. He knew she was trying to be kind, but it only made him feel worse. He tried to focus on the task at hand, not on the gnawing realization that he would never be able to scrape together this much money in time. Even if he asked for an extension, it would just push the problem down the road, leaving him trapped in a vicious cycle of bills and deadlines.

He glanced over at the doorway to the common area of the facility, where his mother sat by the window, staring out at the garden. She looked peaceful there, a faint smile playing on her lips as sunlight filtered through the glass. She was safe here, comfortable—at least, as comfortable as she could be, given her condition. Her episodes were fewer and farther between now, the staff attentive and compassionate, but the care she needed came at a steep price.

Spencer’s stomach twisted as he thought about the guilt that had plagued him since the day he’d signed the papers to have her committed. It was the right thing to do—he knew that—but it didn’t make it any easier. His mother needed help he couldn’t give her. The facility was the best option, but it was also the most expensive.

He turned back to the woman at the counter, his voice hoarse. “Is there... any way to lower the cost? Maybe work out a payment plan?”

She shook her head, her pity deepening. “I’m afraid we already have you on the lowest rate we can offer. I wish I had better news for you, sweetheart.”

Spencer nodded, his heart sinking. “I understand,” he said quietly, folding the bill and tucking it into his jacket pocket. “Thank you.”

He stepped outside into the cold winter air, exhaling a shaky breath. His mind raced as he walked, the weight of his responsibilities bearing down on him. He was barely 18, still trying to figure out how to navigate the world on his own, and now this.

As he made his way to the bus stop, he thought about his own situation. He had just begun his winter semester, juggling an intense class schedule, and he’d recently signed a lease for an apartment with a roommate he’d never even met. They were matched by the apartment manager, both desperate to fill their spaces. He hadn’t even had a chance to settle in yet, let alone get to know the person he’d be living with for the next year.

Spencer wrapped his coat tighter around himself, the wind biting at his skin. The idea of asking his roommate for help crossed his mind, but he dismissed it almost as quickly as it came. They were probably in the same boat, scraping by just to cover rent and tuition. And what would he even say? ‘Hi, I’m Spencer, nice to meet you—by the way, do you have a couple thousand dollars lying around?’

No. This was his burden to bear.

When he arrived at his apartment later that evening, the place was dark and quiet. His new roommate hadn’t moved in yet, and the silence was almost suffocating. He dropped his bag by the door and sank onto the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling. The enormity of everything pressed down on him—the bills, the coursework, his mother’s care, the future stretching out ahead of him, uncertain and terrifying.

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm his racing thoughts. He had to keep it together. There was no other option.

The next day, Spencer dragged his feet to class, exhaustion gnawing at him. The morning sun hadn’t done much to wake him up, and his mind still buzzed from the constant worry. His mother, the bills, his studies—it was all too much. As the professor droned on about advanced quantum mechanics, Spencer tried to focus, but his brain kept slipping back to his mother, her care facility, and the mounting cost of it all.

When class finally let out, he practically ran to his on-campus job in the cafeteria. It wasn’t glamorous, not by a long shot. He worked in the dish room, scrubbing and rinsing plates, silverware, and trays, running them through the industrial sanitizing machine. The smell was stomach-churning, a mix of stale food, wet sponges, and industrial soap. It clung to him no matter how hard he tried to avoid it, but it was money—money he needed desperately.

As he started the sanitizing machine, Spencer did the math in his head. If he worked enough hours, he might be able to pay this month's bills by Christmas. He counted his paycheck before he even received it, trying to figure out how much more he needed to make ends meet. His stomach twisted. Even though he could breeze through most of his homework, he couldn’t take on another job without spreading himself too thin. His body was already showing signs of the strain—exhaustion, hunger, stress-induced headaches.

Leaning against the machine, Spencer felt the weight of everything press down on him. His mind started spiraling, thoughts racing about deadlines and debts, his mother’s well-being, and the pressure of school. It was only when the machine beeped that he snapped back to reality. With a heavy sigh, he pulled the trays from the machine and got back to work.

Later, he rushed to his next class, sliding in two minutes late. His jeans were soaked at the hems from the dish room floor, and his fingers were wrinkled and sore. But he sat down, doing his best to settle in for the lecture. He couldn’t afford to fall behind, no matter how overwhelmed he felt.

By the time he made it back to his apartment that evening, he was dead on his feet. The hallway leading to his door was a maze of plain boxes, stacked haphazardly against the walls. Spencer’s brows furrowed as he carefully weaved through them. Standing in the middle of it all was a woman, her arms wrapped around a small, white dog that shivered and barked at Spencer as he approached.

"Tootsie, hush," the woman muttered, silencing the dog. The air around her smelled of expensive perfume—too strong, especially after a day in the dishroom.

Spencer gave her a tight-lipped smile, feeling out of place, then noticed his apartment door was open. Before he could ask what was going on, a tall man, about his age, stepped out of the doorway, nearly bumping into him.

"Uh, sorry," Spencer said, awkwardly shifting his bag higher on his shoulder. "I’m Spencer. I live here."

The man gave him a once-over before offering a quick nod. "Ricky. I’m just helping my sister move in."

Spencer blinked, confusion flickering across his face. "Your sister?"

Ricky nodded in the direction of the woman with the dog. "Yeah. Y/N. She’s, uh... she's the one moving in."

As if realizing that his sister would be living with another man, Ricky puffed out his chest slightly, standing a little taller, his posture becoming subtly defensive. Spencer didn’t miss the shift, but he also wasn’t sure how to respond. He wasn’t a threat, but Ricky clearly wanted to make sure he knew where things stood.

Y/N approached, flashing a warm smile as she juggled the dog in one arm and extended her hand toward Spencer. "Hi, I’m Y/N. I guess we’re going to be roommates."

Spencer waved, unsure if he should shake her hand while she held the squirming dog. "Nice to meet you."

The interaction was awkward, but Y/N’s friendliness helped ease the tension a little. Spencer glanced back at Ricky, who still looked a bit uneasy. "How are you finding the apartment so far?" he asked, trying to make small talk.

"It’s fine," Ricky replied shortly, still sizing Spencer up. "But, uh, Y/N’s the one living here, not me."

Spencer nodded, feeling the tension ease slightly. "Got it. Well... welcome, I guess."

Y/N grinned, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Thanks. It’s a bit chaotic right now, but I think we’ll settle in soon."

Spencer smiled back, though his mind was already racing with thoughts about the new roommate dynamic, the bills, and how this new chapter was going to unfold.

Spencer excused himself to shower, feeling the weight of exhaustion pulling at him. "I’ll let you guys finish up," he mumbled, giving a small, awkward wave as he stepped past Ricky and Y/N. His feet dragged as he made his way to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. The soft click of the lock felt like the only solid thing in a day that had otherwise spun wildly out of control.

He leaned against the door for a moment, taking in a deep breath. The tension in his shoulders felt like it had seeped into his bones. The exhaustion from class, work, and now the unexpected change in his living situation pressed down on him. His mind buzzed, running through endless calculations—his budget, the bills, his studies—and now the added complication of a new roommate he hadn’t planned for.

Spencer peeled off his soaked jeans and grimy shirt, tossing them into the laundry bin before heading into the small bathroom. The hot water felt like a temporary escape, but even that couldn’t fully wash away the day. He let the water beat down on his tired muscles, trying to clear his mind, but all he could think about was how much more complicated things had become.

The shower didn’t last long. After dressing in an old pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, Spencer collapsed onto his bed. He thought about picking up one of his textbooks, catching up on some reading, but the thought of focusing on anything academic felt impossible at that moment. His mind was a knot of worry and fatigue.

Lying back against the pillows, he stared up at the ceiling, trying to push the thoughts away. But they persisted, swirling around like a storm he couldn’t escape. Outside his room, he could hear the faint sounds of boxes being moved and hushed conversations between Ricky and Y/N. The light shuffling of cardboard against the floor, the occasional frustrated hiss from Ricky about where things should go, and Y/N’s soothing tone filled the apartment. They weren’t loud, but it was just enough to keep Spencer’s mind awake, hovering on the edge of sleep but never quite tipping over.

He tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable position, but the unfamiliarity of the sounds and the day’s stress made it impossible. His thoughts jumped from one thing to the next—his mom, the medical bills, his winter semester, and now, this new roommate who came with a brother that seemed more than ready to take on a protective role.

As the night wore on, Spencer couldn’t help but feel like everything was slipping out of his control. He was used to having everything carefully managed, but now, with his mother’s care weighing heavily on him, and the added pressure of keeping up with his studies, this new shift in his living arrangements made him feel like he was teetering on the edge.

Eventually, as the shuffling in the apartment faded and the apartment quieted down, Spencer found himself drifting into a restless sleep. But even then, his dreams were filled with fragmented images of bills piling up, his mother’s vacant stare in the facility, and the growing distance between him and the life he wanted to lead.

Tomorrow, he thought vaguely as sleep finally overtook him. He’d deal with everything tomorrow.

The next morning, Spencer woke to the faint sounds of movement from the living room. When he emerged from his room, still groggy, he found Y/N already up, sitting cross-legged on the floor, sorting through a pile of shirts. Her hair was pulled back, and the soft morning light filtered in through the windows, casting long shadows over the mess of boxes still scattered around.

"Sorry if I was too loud last night," she said without looking up, her voice light but carrying a hint of apology.

Spencer, grabbing a bowl of cereal, shrugged. "It's fine," he replied, offering a small smile she probably didn’t see. The clatter of his spoon against the bowl filled the quiet air as he sat at the small kitchen table, his mind already racing with the day ahead. There were the usual things to stress over—his classes, his job, the bills—never-ending responsibilities that seemed to pile on like the dirty dishes he'd scrubbed the night before. But now, at least half the rent was covered. That thought brought a slight sense of relief. One less thing to worry about, at least for now.

The January weather in Las Vegas was brisk, cooler than most people expected from a desert city. A chill crept in through the windows, and Spencer made a mental note to grab his jacket on the way out. The mornings were deceptively cold this time of year, even if the afternoons warmed up. Y/N hummed quietly to herself as she continued folding clothes, and Spencer, despite his usual social awkwardness, found himself oddly comfortable with the silence that hung between them.

"I'm heading out," he muttered after finishing his cereal, grabbing his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. Y/N looked up and gave a quick wave as he headed for the door.

"Good luck with your classes," she said, and for a moment, Spencer hesitated, feeling something like gratitude bloom unexpectedly in his chest.

He gave a quick goodbye and left the apartment, stepping into the crisp morning air. The sky was a pale blue, the sun just beginning to rise above the skyline. He hopped on his bike and pedaled toward the science building, the cold wind biting at his face. It was going to be a long day—hours spent in and out of labs, followed by an exam he had to ace if he wanted to keep his GPA where it needed to be.

By the time evening rolled around, Spencer found himself standing at the bus stop, waiting to catch the bus to his second job. His fingers, still slightly wrinkled from handling lab equipment all day, fidgeted as he checked the schedule. The bus to the restaurant was pulling up, but another one—Bus 47, heading directly to the casinos—caught his eye.

He hated the valet job. The tips were terrible, the hours long, and it always felt like he was wasting time when he could be studying or working on something that actually mattered. The idea hit him all at once, and before he could think twice, Spencer made a split-second decision. He ignored his usual bus and boarded the one bound for the strip instead. His heart pounded in his chest as he sat down, clutching the strap of his satchel tightly.

The strip was as garish and glamorous as always, lights flashing and the distant sound of slot machines filling the air. Spencer stepped off the bus, feeling out of place among the well-dressed crowd. People in sleek suits and elegant dresses strolled through the casino floor, sipping on overpriced drinks. He glanced down at himself—jeans, a hoodie, his worn satchel slung over his shoulder—and felt like an outsider.

But he didn’t stop. He kept walking, weaving through the bustling casino, trying to ignore the nagging voice in the back of his mind, the one that kept telling him this was a bad idea.

The sinister thought crept up slowly, and Spencer found himself trying to shove it down. Counting cards—it wasn’t exactly illegal, but it was frowned upon. And for someone like him, it wouldn’t be difficult. He knew the math, the probabilities, the strategies. It would be easy. Too easy. He tried to push the idea away, but it lingered, gnawing at him, tempting him. After all, wasn’t this a way to fix everything? To take control for once, to stop worrying about bills, about rent, about his mother’s care?

Before he could talk himself out of it, he walked up to the cashier and traded in his emergency cash for chips. His hand shook slightly as he held the stack, heart pounding louder than ever. He found a blackjack table near the back, away from the main crowd, and sat down. Spencer stared at the green felt, his mind calculating the odds before the dealer even shuffled the cards.

He took a deep breath and placed his first bet, knowing full well there was no turning back now.

Spencer’s leg bounced the entire bus ride back. His heart hadn’t stopped racing since he left the casino, and now, sitting there with a small mountain of cash stuffed in his backpack, he felt more jittery than ever. He was too shaky to ride his bike the rest of the way, so he walked, clutching the bag tightly against his chest. Every step felt surreal. What had he done?

By the time he made it home, the hallway was dark and quiet. He fumbled with his keys, his hands trembling, and slipped inside the apartment as quietly as he could. Y/N’s door was closed, the light from beneath faint, and the thought of anyone seeing him right now—of anyone knowing what he had just done—made his stomach twist. He hurried to his room, shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

For a moment, he just stood there, staring at his backpack as if it were something dangerous. Then, with a shaky breath, Spencer sat down on the edge of his bed and unzipped the bag. Inside, wrapped haphazardly in his hoodie, was the cash. More money than he had ever seen in one place, let alone had in his possession. His fingers were trembling as he pulled it out, the stack thicker than he’d expected.

He counted it out slowly, each bill feeling heavier than the last. His eyes stung with tears as he finished, the reality of it hitting him like a wave. It was enough. Enough to pay his mother’s bill at the hospital, enough for groceries for the week, maybe even enough to put a little aside for rent. It was more money than he had ever made at his jobs. But it wasn’t the kind of money that came without a cost.

Spencer sniffed, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. His head dropped into his hands, and for a moment, he let the guilt, the shame, and the overwhelming relief swirl together into a confusing mess. He had cheated. He had counted cards, used his mind to exploit the system, and won. And though it wasn’t illegal, it felt wrong. He wasn’t supposed to be that person.

But what else could he do? His mother needed him. The bills needed to be paid.

He sniffed again, taking a deep, shaky breath. “I’ll take it to the bank in the morning,” he whispered to himself, as if saying it aloud would somehow make it all more manageable, more real.

Carefully, Spencer stacked the bills into a neat pile and placed them inside an old shoebox he pulled from his closet. He slid it onto the top shelf, hiding it behind some books and clothes. Then he stood there for a moment, staring at the closet door, willing himself to feel better.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he felt hollow, a pit forming in his stomach as he sat down on the bed again, the weight of the day settling heavily on his shoulders. His mother was safe, for now, but Spencer couldn’t shake the feeling that he had crossed a line he couldn’t uncross.

February had rolled in cold and uninviting, the chill in the air matching the unease still settled in Spencer’s gut. He hadn’t set foot in the casino since mid-January, but the memory of it still gnawed at him, like a dark, heavy weight that wouldn’t lift. Every time he let himself think about it too long, his stomach twisted into painful knots. He hated what he had done, hated even more that he had felt so desperate. The envelope of guilt sat unopened in the back of his mind, but he couldn’t afford to dwell on it.

His boss at the valet job had not been pleased with his abrupt absence, but after some tense words, Spencer had been given a second chance. The job was exhausting—long hours of running back and forth, parking expensive cars he’d never be able to afford, all while wearing shoes that pinched his feet. But it was money, and that was all that mattered. Between his classes, his job in the cafeteria, and the valet shifts, Spencer felt like he was running on fumes. He could feel the toll it was taking on him physically and mentally. His grades, thankfully, were still holding steady, but every night, he collapsed into bed, bone-tired and drained.

He didn’t know how Y/N did it. He heard her every night, just after they’d bid each other a quick goodnight. It was a brief exchange—him in the kitchen, her walking through the apartment. By the time he heard the water running from her shower, Spencer was usually halfway asleep, already slipping into that heavy, dreamless rest that only exhaustion could bring.

But then, like clockwork, he would hear the creaking floorboards in the hallway, the soft shuffle of her feet as the front door opened and closed around 9:30 p.m. every night. He never asked where she went. It wasn’t his business, and he had enough to deal with. Still, there was something unsettling about it—how she returned just before dawn, the soft creak of her door waking him briefly before he drifted back off. By the time Spencer left for his classes in the morning, Y/N would already be up, her own schedule just as busy, if not more so. It made him slightly worried, but again, he had no space left in his mind to think about it too much.

His days were a blur of lab work, lectures, and dishwashing shifts, a seemingly endless cycle that left little room for anything else. But whenever he could, he visited his mother. Nearly every day after classes, he made the trek to the facility, spending whatever time he could with her. She was doing well—comfortable in her surroundings, though her episodes were still frequent enough to remind him why she needed the care. He wished he could be there more, but someone had to pay for the doctors and nurses who cared for her when he couldn’t. That was his burden to bear.

He would never forget the look of surprise on the billing woman’s face when he handed over the cashier’s check. Spencer had barely been able to make eye contact with her, the shame of how he’d acquired the money still burning deep in his chest. But the feeling of seeing the bold red stamp reading “PAID” across his mother’s bill was enough to loosen the tight coil inside him, if only for a moment.

Still, he knew this peace was temporary. The next bill was always just around the corner, and the weight of it was never far from his mind. Spencer’s life was a balancing act—one misstep, and the entire thing could come crashing down. But for now, at least for a little while, the scales were even.

By April, things had changed for Spencer in ways he hadn’t fully expected. The weight of the bills had shifted into something more manageable, though the method by which he achieved it wasn’t exactly moral. February and March had been paid off the same way as January—quick trips to the casinos, a few nights of heart-pounding card counting, and the cash had come flooding in. It was easier now. The shame of the first time had dulled into something distant, almost numb. Sure, he knew it wasn't illegal, but rather a gray area he tiptoed into, but it was working. He had never felt better, at least financially.

With the extra money, he’d been able to quit the valet job, cutting back on his time in the dishroom, and it felt like a massive relief. But the adrenaline rush that came from counting cards, from walking away with thick wads of cash, was hard to ignore. He knew he wasn’t being careful enough. He’d already been banned from two casinos, the pit bosses noticing his near perfect streaks. Maybe he could have been slicker, lost more games to throw them off. But that thrill—it was hard to fake losing when his mind was calculating every move to win.

Still, despite his newfound financial freedom, Spencer couldn’t help but notice the toll it was taking on him. Not the gambling, not directly. But everything else. The rush of cash had bought him more time, more freedom, but it also brought a lingering sense of dread. He had to keep doing it to maintain the lifestyle he had now. And that part of him that prided himself on being better, being honest—it was shrinking, buried under the weight of necessity.

Y/N seemed tired. They’d spent a few rare evenings together over the last couple of months, bonding over their mutual exhaustion, both swamped by their studies. Those were moments Spencer cherished. When he wasn’t thinking about his next trip to the casino or how to avoid getting caught, he found himself wondering about her. Child psychology, she’d told him one night, across campus from where he spent most of his time. He’d learned more about her in those brief conversations than he had in the months prior.

She worked as a secretary, she’d mentioned, spending her lunch breaks catching up on classwork and staying late at the office to make up for time lost during the day. Spencer had always known Y/N was busy, but hearing about her schedule made him realize just how much she was shouldering. It was no wonder she was always tired. He admired her for it—her perseverance, the way she was pushing through her own struggles without complaint. But part of him was worried. She looked drained most days, and he had seen the bags under her eyes getting darker with each passing week.

He was worried for her, but Spencer was also grappling with something else—a growing realization of what he had done to himself. This life, this cycle of stress, had become his norm. He had stumbled into a situation that gave him fleeting moments of relief, but the guilt was never far behind. How had he, someone so logical, so meticulous, let things spiral out of control like this?

As April wore on, Spencer found it harder and harder to reconcile the person he was becoming. He hated the lies, the sneaking off to casinos, the constant paranoia of getting caught. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep this up, but he also couldn’t see a way out. The bills would keep coming, and he needed to keep paying.

By mid-May, Spencer had been banned from his fifth casino. He'd seen it coming, of course. The way the pit bosses eyed him, how the dealers seemed too aware of his every move. It was a familiar pattern now, a mix of adrenaline and dread that built up until it all came crashing down. As he walked down the strip, waiting for the bus, he debated slipping into another new place, starting the cycle all over again. His phone buzzed in his pocket, pulling him from his thoughts.

Y/N’s name lit up the screen.

"Hey, Spencer," her voice was shaky, breathy. He froze in place. Something was off.

"Are you busy?" she asked.

Spencer scanned the street, spotting a nearby taxi. His heart quickened, and he felt the familiar swell of concern.

"No," he said. "Is everything alright?"

There was a strained chuckle on the other end of the line, but it wasn’t convincing. “Yeah, I just… I shouldn't have called. You sound busy.”

He furrowed his brows, his voice softening. “Are you sure? I’m not doing anything. Do you need me to come get you?”

There was a pause. He could almost hear her swallow, hear the lump in her throat as she answered, "Yes. I'm at a bar. Flynn’s."

"I’ll be there soon."

When Spencer arrived, the first thing he noticed was the look on her face. The worry in her eyes, her lips pressed tightly together. The second thing that hit him was her outfit—she wasn’t dressed for a night out, wearing boxy sweats and gripping a duffel bag slung over her shoulder. She looked out of place, vulnerable. Spencer stood outside, waving until she spotted him through the window. Relief washed over her features, though her posture remained stiff as she stepped out of the bar.

The night was still, the moon high above them as they began walking. Neither of them said anything for a while, the silence stretching but not uncomfortable. Spencer kept glancing at her from the corner of his eye, trying to piece together what had happened, why she had called him. The streetlights cast long shadows over the sidewalk, and Y/N’s grip on her duffel bag never loosened.

“Thanks for coming,” she finally broke the silence, her voice small. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

Spencer shook his head quickly. “I was already out. You didn’t wake me, and even if you had—it doesn’t matter. You can always call me.”

Y/N gave a faint smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. "I appreciate it," she said quietly, her gaze fixed on the pavement in front of them.

Spencer wanted to ask, to push, but he held back. He figured if she wanted to talk about it, she would. And for now, just being there for her was enough. The weight of her exhaustion, her unease, hung between them like a thick fog. Spencer wasn’t sure how to break it, so he stayed close by her side, making sure she knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

The rest of the walk was quiet, the city alive around them but somehow distant, a blur of neon lights and distant voices. Spencer couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to this than just a bad night, but for now, he wouldn’t push. When they finally reached their apartment building, Y/N stopped at the door, exhaling deeply.

“Thanks, again,” she said, a little stronger this time.

Spencer gave her a reassuring nod. “Anytime.”

By June, the semester was finally over, and Spencer felt a weight lift off his shoulders. Without classes, he had more time to focus on two things: earning money and spending time with his mother. He visited her as often as possible, only leaving when he absolutely had to—whether for work or when the nurses firmly but kindly reminded him that visiting hours were over.

He spent hours by her bedside, reading to her from medical journals or simply sitting in silence, watching her sleep peacefully in her room. The guilt of putting her there still lingered, but there was comfort in knowing she was safe. The nurses were kind, and although his mother had a few episodes here and there, overall, she seemed calmer. Spencer found himself staying later and later each time, as if his presence could stave off her illness just a little longer.

But even with his deep love for her, Spencer couldn't deny the other pull in his life—the casinos. He visited again, more subtle this time. He had learned from his earlier mistakes, easing his way into games without drawing attention. It was riskier now, with a reputation at some of the places, but Spencer was good at covering his tracks. Counting cards wasn’t difficult for him; if anything, it was almost too easy.

In the span of just a few weeks, Spencer had tucked away a small nest egg of cash in his room, hidden carefully in a shoebox in the back of his closet. It was a safety net, meant for emergencies or to help cover his mother's bills when he fell short.

At first, it had been all about necessity, but slowly, he felt his self-control loosening. He was winning more often than not, and it felt good. He started spending a little more on himself—things he had gone without for far too long.

He treated himself to a new satchel, a sleek, brown leather bag that replaced the worn-out one he'd carried for years. He bought new shoes, sturdy and comfortable for his long walks to class or visits to his mom. He even scheduled a few doctor’s appointments, something he hadn’t done in a while. A new prescription for his glasses, and a splurge on contact lenses. It was all practical, he told himself, but it was hard to deny the small thrill he got from being able to afford it without guilt.

As for Y/N, she hadn't called him again since that night in May. Spencer had been concerned, at first, but then reasoned that she was likely dealing with her own busy life. He had tried to bring it up once, about a week after their walk home, while they were sharing dinner in the dining room.

They had been laughing over one of Spencer’s stories—an encounter with a particularly rude valet customer who didn’t appreciate Spencer’s encyclopedic knowledge of vehicle makes and models.

“You know,” Spencer began, stirring his pasta, “I’ve been meaning to ask… what were you doing at that bar that night?”

He asked it gently, hoping not to push too hard. But the moment the question left his lips, he noticed the way Y/N’s eyes dimmed. Her smile faded just a little, and she shrugged, her focus shifting to her food.

“Bad date,” she said quickly, her tone dismissive.

Spencer hesitated, watching her closely, but decided to leave it at that. Y/N clearly didn’t want to elaborate, and he had enough of his own worries without prying into hers. They had fallen into a comfortable rhythm, an unspoken understanding. Spencer could sense that something was off, but he respected her space. Besides, he had enough going on with his mother, his finances, and his new balancing act between work and, now, self-indulgence.

The summer stretched out before him, a mix of freedom and burden, and Spencer was still unsure which one would win.

It was a calm night in July when everything caught up to Spencer. He’d been at the blackjack table, calculating odds with his usual precision, when a pair of casino security guards approached him. There was no immediate panic; he thought maybe they were checking IDs or doing a routine sweep. But then they pulled him away from the table, leading him to a back room where the pit boss and a few other staff members waited. The accusation was clear—he’d been caught.

Hours later, Spencer found himself sitting in the back of a squad car, the distant hum of the Las Vegas strip fading into the background. His heart pounded, but not for himself. His mind was on his mother. Locked away, he had no idea what would happen to her if he couldn’t make it back in time. Would the nurses understand? Would she panic without him there? The thought of her being confused and alone gnawed at him more than the fear of his own fate.

At the station, they took his details—name, age, bond amount—and left him in a holding cell. It was a small, cold room, dimly lit by flickering overhead lights. His thoughts raced as he sat on the hard bench, trying to figure out who to call. The shame was overwhelming, like a heavy stone lodged in his chest. He couldn’t call his professors; that would be a disaster. And his mother? No way.

After about an hour of internal debate, he settled on calling Y/N. His finger hovered over her name on his phone screen, anxiety twisting in his gut. Would she even answer? Would she be angry? Disappointed? He didn’t know what to expect.

He pressed the call button, holding his breath as the line rang and rang. No answer. The phone clicked, and he was met with her voicemail.

Spencer slumped back against the cold wall of the cell, rubbing his hands over his face. He felt worse now, his chest tightening with guilt. He had dragged Y/N into this, into his mess, and now she wasn’t even answering. He was probably interrupting something important. Maybe she was at work, or worse, maybe he had pulled her away from something fun—a rare night out, even.

Another hour passed, his mind continuing to spiral into a web of worry. An officer came by, handing him his phone back.

“Try again,” the officer said, her tone flat.

With shaking fingers, Spencer dialed Y/N’s number once more. This time, she answered on the third ring. The background was filled with muffled music, her voice breathy as she greeted him.

“Hey, Spencer,” she said, sounding out of breath. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

His heart sank. He could hear the noise, the laughter behind her, and instantly regretted calling. He pictured her out with friends, enjoying a rare night off, and here he was ruining it. He almost didn’t want to ask, but he knew he had no other choice.

“Y/N, I… I’m sorry. I got arrested,” he admitted, his voice small. “I—I don’t know who else to call.”

There was a long pause on the other end.

“Where are you?” she asked softly, and even though he couldn’t see her, he could picture the worry in her eyes.

“I’m at the downtown precinct. They, uh… they’re holding me for-”

He hears a zipper zip on her end. “I’ll be there soon.”

It took nearly an hour for her to show up, and in that time, Spencer could feel the weight of his situation pressing down harder with each passing minute. The fear, the guilt, the helplessness—it was all suffocating. He kept replaying the last few months in his head, wondering how he had let it spiral this far.

When Y/N finally arrived, Spencer felt a mix of shame and relief. She was still in the same sweats he had seen her in earlier that day, but her face was tight with concern. She barely said a word as she walked up to the front desk and counted out $1,000 in mixed bills, sliding the cash toward the woman behind the glass. The whole interaction felt surreal, like he was watching someone else’s life unfold from the outside.

The woman at the desk gave her a bored look before droning, “Someone will call him about the outcome. He’ll have a court date soon.”

Y/N nodded, taking the receipt and turning toward Spencer, who had been standing a few feet back, avoiding eye contact with everyone in the room. She motioned for him to follow her, and without a word, they stepped out of the police station into the cool night air.

For a long while, neither of them said anything. They just walked, side by side, the weight of the situation hanging heavy between them. Spencer could feel the tension, the unspoken questions bubbling beneath the surface.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, his voice cracking with exhaustion. “I didn’t mean to drag you into this.”

Y/N stopped walking, turning to face him. Her eyes softened, though there was still worry etched in her features. “We’ll talk about it later,” she said quietly. “Let’s just get home.”

Spencer nodded, too ashamed to say anything more. They walked the rest of the way in silence, and as they reached the front steps of their apartment building, Spencer couldn’t help but wonder how he was going to dig himself out of this hole.

August was supposed to be the start of a fresh semester, but instead, Spencer found himself sitting in a courtroom, missing his first day of classes. Y/N’s boss had managed to find him a pro bono lawyer, and after hours of waiting and worrying, the relief came in the form of a fine. It wasn’t an insignificant amount, but Spencer had enough in his checking account to cover it. No jail time. No criminal record. Just a bruised ego and a promise to himself that he’d get things back on track. Y/N had saved him, and he didn’t know how to properly thank her.

So, he bought her dinner.

They sat together, a comfortable silence filling the space between stories. Y/N laughed at something he said about an eccentric professor, and for a moment, all the weight of his mistakes felt like it had lifted. Spencer thought about how nice it was to have a friend—a real friend. Someone who didn’t judge him for his faults, who didn’t ask for explanations he couldn’t give. That night, as they cleared away the dishes, he thought about how different his life would be if she hadn’t picked up the phone.

As summer faded into fall, the pressure mounted again. His mother’s care, tuition, bills—everything felt like it was closing in. Despite the warnings he gave himself, Spencer found his way back to the casinos. At first, it was just to make ends meet, but soon he was hooked again. The thrill was intoxicating. His confidence grew, and with it, the risks. He found himself in underground poker games, the stakes higher than anything he had played before. It was dangerous, but he couldn’t help himself. The money was good, and for a while, it felt like he had control.

Until he didn’t.

One night, he left a private game with his pockets full, the air cool against his skin as he walked down a dimly lit street. He was feeling good—too good. But as he neared the end of the block, two men appeared from the shadows. They didn’t say much, just took his money, his watch, and left him with a bruise on his cheek and a burning pain in his stomach from where one of them had punched him.

When he got home, Y/N practically jumped off the couch the moment she saw him. Her eyes widened, and before he could say anything, she was leading him to the couch, gently pushing him down.

"Sit," she said, her voice calm but firm, though her eyes couldn’t hide the worry. A moment later, she returned with two ice packs, pressing one into his hand and placing the other on his cheek.

“What happened?” she asked, trying to keep her tone steady.

Spencer winced as he gingerly pressed the ice pack to his stomach. "It’s nothing," he mumbled. "Just ran into the wrong people."

Y/N’s brows furrowed. "Do you want to call the police?"

He shook his head quickly. "No, it’s not worth it. I shouldn’t have been there. It’ll just waste their time."

She didn’t seem convinced, but she didn’t press him. Instead, she sat down next to him, her shoulder brushing against his. "You don’t have to keep doing this, Spencer."

He closed his eyes, feeling the weight of her words settle on him. "I know," he whispered, but in the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but wonder if he really did.

By fall, Spencer and Y/N had fallen into a comfortable rhythm. Their routines intertwined seamlessly, like two cogs in a well-oiled machine. Despite everything else going on in their lives, they found small moments of joy. In early October, they decided to start decorating for Halloween. Some might say it was too soon, but neither of them cared. Spencer had been the one to suggest it, eager to cling to something fun and lighthearted amidst the constant stress. They spent a weekend hanging fake cobwebs in the windows and placing plastic pumpkins and skeletons around the apartment. Spencer, surprisingly, found himself smiling more than he had in a long time.

It was a reprieve, even if temporary. The guilt still lingered at the back of his mind, nagging him whenever he returned from the casinos. He had stopped going to the private games—too risky after that one night. But he hadn’t stopped gambling altogether. He couldn’t. Not yet. His final semester was in full swing, and December commencement loomed closer. Graduation meant he wouldn’t have to re-enroll, wouldn’t have to juggle classes and the pressure of supporting his mother. He could finally find a stable job. Something steady that would take care of them both. He told himself it was just a matter of surviving until then.

But as the weeks went on, the weight of it all began to creep back. Spencer would lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling, his mind running circles around his choices. Guilt gnawed at him for falling back into old habits. He tossed and turned one night in the middle of October, unable to shake the unease. Y/N had left late again, her car still broken down, and he assumed she was working extra hours to cover the cost of repairs. He figured she’d taken up more shifts at the bar where he’d picked her up that one night. It made sense, though he hadn’t asked. It wasn’t his business, he reminded himself.

But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. She’d been working late a lot more often lately, coming back in the early morning hours, and it worried him. He kept telling himself she was just working hard, like he was. Still, the quiet of the apartment gnawed at him in her absence.

As he lay there, trying to force himself to sleep, the buzzing of his phone cut through the silence. His heart jumped. It was late—who could be calling him? He reached over to the bedside table and grabbed his phone. Y/N’s name lit up the screen. He furrowed his brows, a knot forming in his stomach as he sat up in bed.

“Hello?” Spencer answered, his voice low and cautious.

“Spencer…” Y/N’s voice was shaky, barely above a whisper. “I… I need your help.”

The knot tightened in his chest. “What’s wrong? Where are you?”

There was a pause on her end, and he could hear the faint hum of traffic in the background. “I’m not far. Just… can you come get me? Please?”

Without hesitation, Spencer threw back the covers and started pulling on a pair of jeans. “Of course. Where are you?”

She gave him the address, and Spencer was out the door within minutes. The streets were dark, illuminated only by the faint glow of streetlights, and his heart raced the entire way. Spencer expected to find himself standing outside Flynn’s again, but this time it was a different bar. His stomach twisted when he realized it wasn’t a bar at all, but a gentleman’s club. The neon lights flickered faintly, casting a garish glow over the entrance. Through the slightly ajar doors, he caught a glimpse of dim lighting, red velvet chairs, and the unmistakable sight of scantily clad women moving between tables. His cheeks flared up instantly, and he fought the urge to turn around and leave.

The bouncer at the door eyed him with a bored expression. “ID,” the man grunted.

Spencer fumbled with his wallet, barely able to focus as he handed over his driver’s license. The bouncer barely glanced at it before stepping aside. “Enjoy yourself.”

Enjoy myself? Spencer thought, feeling sick. This wasn’t his scene. He wasn’t the type to gawk at women in lingerie, no matter how much he understood that it was just a job to them. It still made him uncomfortable. He could already feel his nerves bubbling up as he hesitantly stepped inside, the heavy door closing behind him. The music thumped through the room, loud and rhythmic, and the room was filled with men, most with glazed-over eyes, openly staring at the performers on stage.

His eyes darted around the room, scanning for Y/N. His heart raced faster with each passing moment.

Before he could take another step, a woman with bright red hair, wearing a barely-there outfit, leaned against him, pressing her body too close for comfort. "Looking for a good time?" she purred, her voice smooth and practiced.

Spencer swallowed nervously, his hands stiff at his sides. "Uh, no—actually, I’m, uh, looking for someone. Y/N?"

The redhead’s expression shifted instantly. She straightened, her flirtatious demeanor dropping. "Y/N?" she repeated, her eyes narrowing as if she were assessing him. "What’s your name?"

"Spencer," he answered, confused by her sudden change in tone.

Without another word, she grabbed his wrist, pulling him toward a door behind the bar. Spencer blinked, stumbling slightly as he followed her. The catcalls and whistles from the nearby men echoed as they passed, but he barely registered them.

"Come on," the redhead muttered, leading him through the door and down a short hallway. "She’s back here."

Spencer’s heart pounded in his chest as they approached a small room near the cooler. When the redhead pushed the door open, he saw Y/N sitting on a metal stool, her knee bouncing wildly. She looked shaken, pale, her hair a mess. As soon as she saw him, she rushed forward and wrapped her arms around him.

"Thank you for coming," she murmured against his chest. He could feel her trembling.

Spencer awkwardly returned the hug, his arms wrapping around her in a comforting gesture. "Of course," he replied softly. "Do you want to head home?"

Y/N nodded, pulling away slightly to meet his eyes. "Are you okay with taking a cab?" she asked, her voice still shaky.

Before Spencer could answer, the redhead piped up again. "Clive’s back," she explained, crossing her arms over her chest. "Y/N doesn’t like to leave alone when he’s here. Usually we have a guy to drive them home, but he's sick."

Spencer frowned, the pieces starting to click in his mind.

Without a second thought, he pulled out his phone. "I’ll call a taxi."

The ride home was quiet. Y/N sat beside him, her eyes staring out the window, while Spencer tried to process everything. He hadn’t expected any of this when she’d called him.

When they got back to the apartment, Y/N immediately started pacing in the living room. Spencer watched her from the doorway, unsure of what to say. He started to retreat toward his bedroom, giving her space, but her voice stopped him.

"Can you stay for a bit?" she asked quietly, her voice so small he almost didn’t hear it.

Spencer hesitated but nodded. "Yeah, of course."

They sat in the living room, the silence thick between them until Y/N broke it. "How was your day?" she asked, trying to keep her voice casual.

Spencer blinked, surprised by the question. "Uh, it was... fine. I went to see my mom today."

Y/N stopped pacing, looking over at him. "How is she?"

"She’s... the same," he admitted, feeling the familiar weight settle on his shoulders. "She’s in a home now. Schizophrenia."

Y/N’s expression softened. "I’m sorry."

He shrugged, trying to downplay it. "It’s just... my life."

The room fell into silence again. Spencer wasn’t sure what to say, but before he could think of anything, Y/N spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I don’t want to be a stripper." Her words hung in the air, and Spencer felt his heart sink. He looked over at her, watching as she wrung her hands together nervously.

"It’s easy money," she continued, her voice shaky. "But I know you’ll see me differently now."

Spencer’s throat tightened. He shook his head, his voice soft but firm. "Y/N, I don’t see you any differently."

Spencer watched as Y/N exhaled, the tension in her shoulders loosening as his words settled over her. He hadn't realized until now just how much she had been carrying, how deeply she feared judgment. In that moment, he felt an ache—a quiet understanding of how much they'd both hidden from each other.

He swallowed hard, the knot in his throat tightening again, but this time, it wasn’t just from the weight of her confession. His own secrets had been buried for months, festering beneath the surface. Now, with the raw honesty between them, they suddenly felt too heavy to keep to himself. The words he hadn’t meant to share began bubbling up before he could stop them.

“I… I’ve been hiding something too,” he began, his voice so low he wasn’t sure if she heard him at first. When she looked up at him, eyes still soft but curious, he knew he had to say it.

He shifted in his seat, fingers nervously tapping against his knee as he searched for the right way to explain. But the truth was, there wasn’t a ‘right way.’

“Y/N, I—” he started, then hesitated. His heart pounded in his chest, and he could feel the rush of guilt flood his system before the words even left his lips. “I cheat casinos. It’s… it’s not like I’m counting cards—well, I guess I kind of am. But it’s not exactly illegal… more of a morally gray loophole.”

Her eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t say anything, just listened. He kept going, his words spilling out in a rush, almost as if he needed to explain himself before she could react.

“It’s the only way I can afford my mother’s care,” he admitted, his voice hoarse with emotion. “The medical bills, the home, everything—it’s all so expensive. I didn’t know what else to do. I wasn’t making enough just working. So I started going to casinos, trying to use what I knew, what I was good at, to make enough money to keep her safe.”

He could feel his pulse in his ears, the blood rushing to his face. He hadn’t planned to tell her. He hadn’t even planned to admit it to himself. But here he was, spilling the truth in one messy, unfiltered confession.

“I know it’s wrong, but I couldn’t watch her suffer. I just… I didn’t want to lose her.”

Silence filled the room. Y/N didn’t look away, didn’t interrupt. She just watched him, her expression unreadable as the weight of his words sank in.

Spencer felt exposed, like a spotlight was shining down on him, illuminating every flaw, every mistake. He wasn’t sure what kind of reaction he was expecting—anger, disappointment, maybe even disgust. But instead, there was a shift. A quiet understanding settled between them, like they had reached some unspoken agreement.

Y/N slowly moved from where she had been standing and sat down beside him. She didn’t say anything at first, just rested her hand gently on his. Her touch was warm, grounding, and it sent a wave of relief through his chest.

“I get it,” she said softly, her voice filled with empathy rather than judgment. “You’re doing what you think you have to do.”

Spencer blinked, taken aback by her response. He had been bracing himself for condemnation, but instead, there was this—a quiet acceptance. She wasn’t condoning what he’d done, but she understood why.

“I don’t see you any differently either, Spencer,” she added, her eyes meeting his. “We’re both just trying to survive.”

Her words hit him hard, the rawness of them resonating deep inside him. They were both tangled in their own struggles, doing what they thought was necessary, even if it blurred the lines of right and wrong. And in that moment, Spencer realized that they weren’t just two people keeping secrets from each other. They were two people trying to navigate a messy, complicated world in the only ways they knew how.

For the first time in months, Spencer didn’t feel so alone.

As the months passed, Spencer and Y/N's connection deepened, their shared confessions forming the foundation for a much stronger bond. Spencer, once hesitant to let anyone get too close, found himself softening in her presence. He kept his phone on all night, ready to answer her calls without a second thought. Y/N seemed to sense that he was always there for her, and the distance that had once separated them as roommates faded into something much more personal.

On quiet nights, when Y/N didn’t have work and Spencer wasn’t pulled into the casino world, they spent hours talking. Spencer even began taking her with him to the casinos, showing her the ropes, teaching her how to gamble with efficiency and precision. He was patient, guiding her through the math and the psychology of it all, explaining his methods for maximizing their chances without raising suspicion. She picked it up quickly, and they even managed to win small amounts together, enough for a celebratory dinner or a couple of drinks afterward.

Mornings became their time to unwind. They would sit over coffee, the rich aroma filling the small kitchen, and swap dreams and desires. Spencer talked about his future, how after commencement, he was hoping to find something steady so he could finally stop relying on the casinos to support his mother. Y/N shared her own ambitions, but they were less concrete. She wasn’t quite sure what the next step was for her—she just knew that the life she was living wasn’t what she wanted long-term.

Dinner was different—lighter. They laughed over the mishaps of their day, whether it was Spencer recounting an awkward encounter with a professor or Y/N sharing wild stories about strange customers at the bar. The ease between them was palpable, and Spencer realized that he looked forward to those moments just as much as anything else.

As the semester drew to a close, the temperature dropped, and the crisp air signaled the end of fall. Spencer found himself in an odd limbo, stuck between the stress of final exams and the excitement of commencement. One afternoon, he was sitting at the table, filling out a request form to bring his mother to the graduation ceremony. His brow furrowed as he concentrated, not noticing Y/N slip through the front door until she spoke.

“Groceries are put away,” she called from the kitchen, her voice bright. A moment later, she settled onto the couch, tucking her legs underneath her. “So, what do you think about becoming a nanny?”

Spencer glanced up, raising a curious eyebrow. “Me? I’d be terrible with kids.”

She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Not you, Spencer. Me. I was just thinking about it. You know, maybe it’d be a change of pace, something different.”

He pushed the form aside for a moment, turning in his chair to give her his full attention. “I think you should go for it if you’re interested. It’d definitely be a shift from bartending.”

Y/N sighed, leaning her head back on the couch. “Yeah, but I don’t exactly have stellar references…”

Spencer cocked his head, confused by her sudden hesitation. “What do you mean?”

With a small smirk, Y/N lifted the hem of her shirt just slightly, swirling her hips in a playful motion. Spencer blinked for a moment before it clicked, and then he chuckled, the realization dawning on him. “Ah, right. The whole… dancer thing.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah. Not exactly nanny material, huh?”

Spencer shook his head, still amused. “I don’t think that disqualifies you, Y/N. You’re good with people. You’d be great with kids.”

“You think?” She shifted, her tone lighter now, though still carrying a hint of doubt.

“I know,” he replied confidently. “Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? Give it a shot. It can’t be any worse than some of the jobs you’ve done, right?”

Y/N laughed softly, the tension easing from her shoulders as she let his words sink in. “I guess you’re right. Maybe I will give it a try.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, the warmth of their shared space wrapping around them like a blanket. Spencer glanced back down at the form in front of him, his thoughts wandering as he imagined his mother sitting in the audience at his graduation. His life, once filled with uncertainty, now felt like it was finally moving forward. And sitting there, with Y/N across the room, he realized he wasn’t facing it alone anymore.

Commencement day was a blur of emotions for Spencer. He stood in his cap and gown, the weight of his degree finally sinking in as he scanned the audience. His heart swelled when he saw his mother, Diana, sitting near the front, smiling proudly. She’d been well enough to come to the ceremony, and the fact that she was there—present and lucid—made everything feel even more meaningful. Y/N sat next to her, waving at him with a wide grin, and for the first time in a while, Spencer allowed himself to feel like everything was falling into place.

After the ceremony, they all went out to dinner. It was a simple restaurant, nothing extravagant, but the company made it perfect. Diana was animated, more herself than she had been in a long time, and Y/N fit seamlessly into the mix, chatting comfortably with Spencer’s mother as if they had known each other for years. Spencer sat back, watching them, feeling a rare sense of contentment. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to forget the anxieties of the future.

The night carried on, and after dinner, Spencer walked his mother back to her room at the assisted living facility, staying well into the late hours. Diana seemed more at peace than she had been in months, and Spencer clung to that, knowing how fleeting these moments could be. They sat together, her hand in his, as he nervously told her about the job offer he had received from the FBI.

"I don’t know if I’m ready," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "It’s... it’s a lot. I don’t know if I’m the right person for it."

Diana’s eyes, filled with a mother’s wisdom and love, softened as she squeezed his hand gently. “Spencer,” she began, her voice calm and reassuring, “you’ve been preparing for something like this your whole life. You’re brilliant, and you have a good heart. I think you know what the right thing to do is.”

He swallowed hard, looking down at their joined hands. The FBI was something he never imagined for himself. He had attended a career fair weeks ago with Y/N, more for her than for himself. She had been relatively uninterested, wandering through the booths, but Spencer had found himself lingering near the FBI’s table, mesmerized by the thought of working for them. He could picture himself in the field, wearing a bulletproof vest, solving cases that no one else could. The idea had shaken him, and he’d quickly dismissed it at the time. But apparently, Jason Gideon, the FBI agent manning the table, had noticed. He’d taken an interest in Spencer, encouraging him to apply.

“I just… I don’t know if I can do it,” Spencer admitted, his throat tightening again. “What if I fail?”

Diana’s smile was soft, knowing. “You won’t fail. And even if you stumble, you’ll get back up. You’ve always been resilient, Spencer. Don’t let fear stop you from going after what you want.”

Spencer’s eyes met hers, and in that moment, he knew what she was really saying. She was urging him to take the leap, not just for himself but because she believed in him. And maybe—just maybe—that belief was enough to tip the scales.

He sighed, nodding slowly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

Diana chuckled softly, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. “That’s because I know my son.”

The conversation lingered in his mind as he walked home that night, the streets quiet under the chilly December sky. By the time he arrived, Y/N was already asleep on the couch, a blanket draped over her. Spencer stood for a moment, watching her in the soft glow of the living room lamp, feeling grateful for the way she had been there for him through everything.

He quietly retreated to his room, but he couldn’t sleep. His mind was racing with thoughts of the future, the weight of the decision in front of him. He could almost hear his mother’s voice urging him forward, telling him not to be afraid.

As Christmas Day rolled around, the apartment felt eerily empty. Most of the furniture was gone, and the decorations were sparse. Spencer was on his way to visit his mother’s facility, a tradition they had every holiday season, when Y/N’s voice called out, stopping him in his tracks.

“Spencer, wait!” she called, shaking a small stack of neatly wrapped boxes in her hands.

His heart melted at the sight. He walked over, his smile widening. “Is that my gift?”

Y/N grinned, handing him the boxes. “It sure is.”

Spencer grabbed two boxes from under the small Christmas tree they had left standing in the corner and handed them to her. “And these are yours.”

They settled on the couch, exchanging gifts with the kind of quiet excitement that came from years of friendship.

He tore open the first box, revealing a soft, purple scarf. Spencer laughed, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he ran his fingers over the fabric. “A purple scarf?”

Y/N nodded, her eyes twinkling with warmth. “It gets cold in D.C., so I thought I’d give you something for when you get off the plane, Agent.”

The word “Agent” made Spencer’s chest swell with pride, even as he blinked back tears. He opened the next boxes, finding a few sweaters, gloves, and a thicker coat. Practical gifts, but thoughtful nonetheless. They were things he would need for his new life, things that showed how well Y/N knew him.

Y/N, meanwhile, opened her gifts with a bright smile. Inside were a few children’s books, a brand-new lunchbox, a journal, and a manual on nannying. She looked up at Spencer, her eyes soft with gratitude.

“These are perfect,” she whispered, flipping through one of the books. “You really thought of everything, didn’t you?”

Spencer chuckled, shrugging modestly. “I wanted to make sure you were prepared for the new job. It’s going to be a big change.”

She smiled at him, the kind of smile that told him how much she appreciated him—not just for the gifts, but for the friendship they had built over the years. “Thank you, Spencer.”

For a moment, they just sat there in the quiet, the weight of the future hanging between them. But it wasn’t heavy, not like before. It felt hopeful. Like they were both ready for whatever came next, even if it meant parting ways for now.

“You’re gonna do great, you know?” Spencer said, his voice soft.

Y/N met his gaze, her smile warm and full of confidence. “So will you, Spencer.”

Spencer’s heart fluttered as he stood at the counter, fidgeting with his fingers. Telling Y/N he wasn’t renewing the lease had been eating at him for days. He finally worked up the courage, watching her closely for a reaction.

“I won’t be renewing the lease next month,” he blurted, his voice slightly shaky. His nerves prickled with unease. He was afraid of leaving her, of this new chapter that would take him away from the apartment they had called home for so long.

Y/N breathed a dramatic sigh over the counter separating them. Spencer blinked, confused by her calm reaction.

“I’m not renewing either,” she said with a nonchalant shrug, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

His heart skipped a beat. “Wait—what?”

She gave him a grin, leaning on the counter. “I found a family to nanny for. A woman who’s a child psychologist, ironically enough. I’m transferring to a different campus next semester to be closer to them.”

Spencer let out a breath, relieved and proud of her. They shared a quick laugh, the tension melting away. For a moment, they just stood there, smiling at each other, their eyes filled with a mix of pride and the unspoken acknowledgment that things were changing—but it was the good kind of change.

The morning sun glinted off the tarmac as Spencer stood beside Y/N in the airport parking lot, a mix of excitement and apprehension swirling in his chest. The reality of their impending separation felt heavier than the duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He glanced at Y/N, who stood next to him, her hands stuffed deep into the pockets of her jacket, a bittersweet smile on her face.

“I can’t believe this is it,” he said, his voice slightly wobbly. “It feels like we were just decorating for Halloween.”

Y/N nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Time flies, doesn’t it? But you’re going to do amazing things, Spencer. I know it.”

Taking a deep breath, he pulled out a pen from his jacket pocket and flipped open her address book. With careful strokes, he wrote down his new address in Washington, D.C. The words felt surreal, a tangible representation of how much had changed in such a short time.

“There,” he said, closing the book and handing it back to her. “You have to come visit. You can stay with me, and we’ll explore the city together.”

“Deal.” She looked down at the page, tracing his address with her fingertip as if committing it to memory. “Just don’t forget to send me a postcard or two, okay?”

“Of course,” he promised, a small smile creeping onto his lips. “I’ll even send one from the FBI office.”

Y/N laughed lightly, but there was an edge of sadness in her voice. “I’ll be waiting.”

They stood in silence for a moment, both of them acutely aware of the ticking clock and the finality of the moment. It felt strange to be standing there, knowing they were about to go their separate ways. He would be stepping into a new chapter, and she would be continuing her own journey.

Spencer took a step closer, his heart pounding. “Can I have one last hug?”

Y/N stepped forward without hesitation, wrapping her arms around him. He breathed in her familiar scent—a comforting blend of lavender and something uniquely her. It felt both reassuring and achingly bittersweet. He held her tight, as if trying to absorb every moment they had shared, every laugh, every worry, and all the late-night talks.

“Promise me you’ll take care of yourself,” she murmured into his shoulder, her voice muffled. “I don’t want to hear any stories about you getting into trouble.”

“I promise,” he replied, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes. “And you take care of yourself too, Y/N. You deserve all the happiness in the world.”

With that, they hugged once more, the embrace lingering longer than it should have. It was a goodbye filled with unspoken words, memories, and a strong bond that would remain even across the miles. Finally, they stepped back, both reluctantly breaking the contact.

“Okay, I guess I should go,” Spencer said, glancing over his shoulder at the terminal.

“Yeah,” Y/N replied, biting her lip as she fought to hold back tears. “I’ll be okay. Just… don’t forget me.”

He reached out, squeezing her hand tightly before letting go. “I could never forget you, Y/N. You’ve been one of the best parts of my life.”

With a final wave, he turned and headed toward the entrance of the airport, glancing back once to see Y/N standing there, her silhouette framed by the bright morning light. He could see the glimmer of tears in her eyes, and it pulled at his heart.

As he walked through the sliding glass doors, he couldn’t shake the feeling of loss settling in his chest. He reached the lobby, the sounds of the bustling airport swirling around him, but all he could think about was her. He found a spot by the large windows, waiting for his flight, but his gaze remained fixed outside.

It wasn’t until he spotted her car pulling out of the lot that he felt a wave of emotions crash over him. He watched as she drove away, the red taillights disappearing into the distance, and his heart ached. A mix of gratitude and longing filled him as he thought about all the moments they had shared, how she had been his anchor in a storm of chaos.

Spencer pulled out his phone, his fingers hovering over her contact information. He sent her a quick message, a simple “Thank you for everything. I’ll miss you,” before slipping the phone back into his pocket.

He could feel the weight of her absence already, but deep down, he knew this wasn’t truly the end. Their friendship had weathered so much; he had faith it would withstand the distance.

As he settled into a seat in the waiting area, his heart brimmed with both hope and sorrow, knowing they were both embarking on new journeys. And as he stared out at the endless sky, he vowed to make the most of this opportunity—both for himself and for Y/N.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reidx reader #spencer reid x you #fanfic

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20doozers · 3 days

Text

★Small problem★

TW: dressing room sex, unprotected sex, spit as lube, semi-public sex, quickies, m!reader, anal/gay sex

Bill whined when he heard his dressing room door open, expecting it to be one of the staff to interrupt him. Yet when he felt hands on his waist he realized it was his boyfriend, sighing and letting his eyes close as his hands gently wandered his sides, occasionally slithering up under his t-shirt.

“Sorry if I interrupted, jus’ needed to see you before the set..” m/n murmured, kissing at the side of his neck with a small yet sly smile. Bill just rolled his eyes, going back to doing his makeup in the full body mirror. He always found it easier to stand and do his makeup before shows anyway.

“No big spiky hair?” M/n hummed, his eyes locked on Bill’s figure in the mirror and the lack of his boyfriend’s spiky hair like he usually had it.

“Nope, it’s an acoustic set anyway, just enough volume to look good.” Bill hummed. He had his hair down a bit, it was a lot less spiky and more reminiscent of his past style the year before.

“So no scolding if I want a quickie and mess your hair up?” M/n teased, smirking as he nipped at the side of Bill’s neck, leaving a little red mark. Bill whined, feeling his boyfriend’s hips press against his ass.

“Cmon.. please bill? We have like 30 minutes before the show.. surely that’s enough time.” M/n whined, pleading with bill for a compromise.

“Without lube? You’re out of your mind.” Bill scoffed, he was so anal about it (no pun intended), it was just a quickie anyway.

“Bill please.. help a man out…” bill couldn’t help but blush at the needy whine, letting out a huff as he set his makeup palette back on the small vanity.

“Fine. But quickly.”

Bill moaned as m/n’s hands groped at his ass, their lips moving almost in sync as they kissed. Bill could feel himself getting harder, his tight jeans not helping one bit as m/n basically dry humped him while they made out. How desperate. Bill frowned when m/n pulled away, pouting as he watched the other boy undo his belt, his frown fading at the sight of his boyfriend’s erection, a bead of precum already gathered on the tip as bill quickly turned and undid his own jeans and pulled them off. He had to change his jeans before the show anyway after spilling soda on them.

“Mmh.. fuck..” m/n moaned, watching as bill stripped his lower half and m/n quickly used the opportunity to press him against the vanity. He spat in his hand and slicked up his cock, pumping himself a few times before pushing into bill, earning a hiss from him as he adjusted to m/n’s size.

“Sorry.. fuck.. I would use lube if I had any baby..” he murmured into the crook of Bill’s neck, glancing at the mirror to gauge Bill’s expression for any pain. Bill’s eyebrows were furrowed like he was concentrating really hard, either trying not to show it or too focused on how it felt. Either way m/n was trying extremely hard not to cum right away as bill experimentally clenched around him, making small whines fall from his lips as he tried to not be too loud. They could never be too loud in case they got caught, nobody ever really knew how thin the walls of dressing rooms were so it was better to be careful.

“…move.. please..” bill murmured, moaning as m/n’s hips began to slowly move, thrusting in and out slowly as he tried to form a steady pace. He froze when bill let out a strangled whine, his cock having hit Bill’s prostate a bit roughly.

“What? Did I hurt you?”

“N-no.. Scheiße keep going please..“ bill whimpered, moaning loudly when m/n began to pick up his pace, bringing a hand to slither up Bill’s chest to gently pinch one of his nipples through his t-shirt. Bill‘s nipples were extremely sensitive, bill could cum from only nipple play most days if he did it right; one wrong caress and his hardened nipples would give away how aroused he was.

M/n’s pace slowly sped up until he was rutting his cock deep into bill, soaking up every whine and moan bill let fall from his lips, letting out little grunts when bill clenched around him.

“Ah- Scheiße.. I- ‘m gonna-“ bill couldn’t even finish his sentence, moaning as m/n gently pinched one of his nipples as he orgasmed, spurting cum all over the vanity as m/n wrapped a hand around Bill’s cock, milking every last drop out of him as he picked up his pace a tad more, only a few seconds behind bill as bill clenched around him and brought his orgasm over him harshly.

M/n's thrusts slowly came to a halt, his hips only lightly jerking forward as he and bill slowly came down from their highs.

Bill frowned as he pulled on a fresh pair of jeans, staring sadly at the makeup palette he had accidentally knocked off of the vanity while coming. He crouched down to pick it up, scanning it over for cracks or chips. It wasn't broken thankfully. He looked over at m/n who was currently working on wiping Bill's cum off of the vanity, having used about 5 tissues already.

"I swear bill you spray like a sprinkler..” he huffed, earning a whine from bill as he wiped up the last bit of cum and tossed the wad of tissues in the trash, chuckling when he went over to bill and pulled him close.

"Oh c'mon don't give me that look, it makes me want to kiss you even more.." m/n teased, earning a small giggle from bill as he leaned in for a kiss, his hands planting themselves on Bill's hips as their lips met in a sweet and gentle kiss.

YAY! Another fic done, some bill smut for you guys. This one was a bit rushed but I promise I tried my best if it’s shit. Love you guys!!

Tags: @itsmealaiahh @itsmealaiah @itsangelll @cherry-rawr @divinelolita @d0wn-in-the-morgue (let me know if you wanna be added to my taglist!)

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pretzel-box · 1 day

Text

CHAPTER 5 | Masterlist for AASB here!

Tags: Threats, Violence, not proof read

Words: 5k

Authors Note: I had to rewrite it all in the middle of the night. It's not proof read and can have logic issues, weird sentences or mixed up stuff.

Working with Sebastian was a challenge in itself, a blend of relentless demands and looming danger. His form of labor was relentless, and unfortunately for you, that meant being handed all the menial tasks he didn’t care to do.

"Files," he growled, his focus on the broken flashlight in his hands. The odd position of his hulking figure and the delicate way he maneuvered his claws around the tools was fleeting, yet striking. For a moment, you caught a glimpse of something softer beneath the brutality, but it vanished as quickly as it came. His head snapped toward you, impatience flashing in his eyes.

“You either sort the files or I take them and stuff them into your silly little mouth to gag you. Then you can spend the rest of the day suffocating in the locker."

Threats were his specialty. He was creative with them, always finding some twisted, violent edge to keep you in line. If there was one constant in your work with Sebastian, it was the looming sense of his brutal tendencies, always just beneath the surface.

Working with Sebastian wasn’t just about completing the tasks he shoved your way. It was about observing him. Getting to know the man he never wanted you to see. He shut you out—always. His words were sharp, often wrapped in a threat or some dark humor. Social interaction, for him, was nothing more than a tool, laced with violence. But you learned more about him through what he didn’t say, what he couldn’t hide.

He had no friends. You could see the loneliness gnawing at him, eating away like a hungry animal. It was clear in his posture, in the way he worked late into the night, avoiding sleep. That loneliness—it clung to him, scratched at his mind, likely kept him awake when the world quieted. Being lonely, that was something human, something he tried desperately to deny. He told himself he didn’t need anyone. He didn’t need you.

But it was clear he was anxious. You could feel it like a current, underlying everything he did. There was a paranoid edge to him, a mind that had been on high alert for too long. The madness of survival must’ve driven him to do things—things you didn’t want to imagine. His hands would sometimes shake, and his eyes lingered on certain items, fixated, as if they could reveal something to him. He was scared. Just as scared as you were, but neither of you would ever admit it.

For all his threats and violence, you realized that Sebastian wasn’t just your tormentor. He was trapped too, battling the same fears that haunted you.

And god forbid you to address it in front of him. He will behead you with a rusty piece of scrap metal, cutting your limbs and putting them in an old dirty jar to sell.

“Urbanshades finest idiot on sale.”

Before you knew it, he threw a bag at you, the metal in it hitting a part of your leg, making you whine in pain. It will definitely leave a bruise later on, coloring your flesh.

“Stop whining and go get new stuff.”

This was also a common occurrence, he would send you out, but not without a special item. He always placed a metallic bracelet around your ankle. It was one of Urbanshades creation. Simply enough, it will reveal your location as long as you are far away enough from the scrambler on Sebastian’s back. He can track you down himself easily when you are near him but it's another story when you are in another area. He also warned you, do some weird business and he can give you electronic shocks with it. Yet he never did so far, leaving it an actual mystery if he can.

So, in the end, he had two things. Painter and the bracelet.

You hurried out, the cold metal of the vent that he made you use as an exit, biting against your palms as you crawled through it, the sound of your own breath loud in the confined space. The small shaft felt even tighter with each movement, but you forced yourself forward. You had studied the building’s layout just enough to navigate through the vents, at least in theory.

Each turn brought you closer to the hallway on the other side, where freedom—or at least a chance at it—awaited. You tried not to think about the pounding in your chest or the echo of your hurried breaths. The vent rattled beneath you as you moved, but you knew better than to stop. Stopping meant giving up, and giving up meant facing whatever Sebastian had in store for you. And that wasn’t an option.

The moment you saw the faint sliver of light marking the vent cover at the end, you sped up, the desperation clawing at you as fiercely as the metal beneath your hands.

You pushed the vent cover open as quietly as you could and dropped into the hallway, your knees bending to absorb the impact as you fell down a small bit. The air was cool and heavy, carrying the scent of dust and something faintly metallic. Dim, flickering lights barely illuminated the space, casting long shadows across the floor. You stood still for a moment, letting your eyes adjust, your heart pounding in your ears. This was your chance for some time in indirect freedom, but you had to be smart about it.

The hallway stretched out in both directions, abandoned and eerily quiet. You forced yourself to take a slow breath, shaking off the tension that threatened to paralyze you. You didn’t have a plan—just a vague sense that you needed to gather what you could. Anything useful. Most of the things would end up in Sebastians shop, but a few rare pieces would stay in your secret stash. Over the time where Sebastian let you wander around, you started to stash useful items in a small hole inside a wall. It was covered by a large picture of the ocean, so Sebastian wouldn't find it.

You began walking, your footsteps barely making a sound on the cold floor despite the heavy boots that Urbanshade gave you. The first thing you spotted was a drawer left half-open, its contents scattered across a small desk. You rifled through it quickly, pocketing a few items—a worn-out screwdriver, some loose wires, and a small flashlight. Its battery was low, but it would do.

Moving further down the hallway, you noticed a small alcove where someone had abandoned a toolbox. You knelt down, opening it with a soft creak. Inside were tools, some rusted but still functional—a wrench, pliers, and a pair of wire cutters. You stuffed them into your bag, the weight of them reassuring as you planned to put them in your secret spot.

The sound of a distant clank made you freeze, your heart skipping a beat. You held your breath, waiting for any sign that Sebastian—or someone else—had heard you. But after a long, agonizing pause, the hallway remained silent. You exhaled slowly, your nerves stretched thin.

You pressed forward, passing broken machinery, old filing cabinets, and the occasional door that led to rooms too dark to explore. Your hands trembled slightly as you picked up more small items—batteries, a bundle of cables, anything that might help. Each find felt like a tiny victory, a step closer to surviving whatever this place held.

But in the back of your mind, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Sebastian was always watching.

As you continued down the dimly lit hallway, the flickering overhead lights began to pulse more erratically. You barely had time to react before, with a loud crackle, they all went out at once, plunging you into near-total darkness. Your heartbeat quickened as you stood still, holding your breath in the sudden silence. The lights were an indicator for danger, your life was now at risk based on the logic you picked up.

Then, just ahead, a few small lamps on the ceiling began to flicker on, one by one, their pale, cold light guiding you down another hallway. It felt deliberate, like you were being led somewhere on purpose. Warily, you followed the lights, each step quieter than the last, your grip tightening on the small flashlight in your hand—though it felt useless in this strangely guided path. You had the feeling that it wasn't the smartest thing to do and yet your feet carried you through it all out of pure curiosity.

The hallway twisted and turned, eventually leading you to a large metal door that was slightly ajar. You pushed it open slowly, the heavy metal groaning in protest. Inside, the room was massive, the walls stretching higher than you expected. What caught your attention, though, was the far wall, covered entirely with televisions of different sizes, each screen reflecting dim light off the walls.

At first, the televisions remained dark, save for the occasional flicker of static. You stepped closer, unsure if you should be there at all. Then, one by one, the screens started to come to life. Some flashed erratically, while others lingered on a static-filled image before cutting off again. You watched, transfixed, as more screens flickered on, creating a patchwork of glowing light and sound. The images were unclear—just distorted patterns, numbers, and strange symbols.

Suddenly, with a loud hum, all the screens snapped into place, merging into one enormous, seamless picture. The static and symbols dissolved, leaving behind a single, vivid image: a digital face.

An unfamiliar face, though digitized and slightly distorted, stared back at you from the giant wall of screens. Painter's expression was calm but somehow felt more intense, the lines of his digital form flickering ever so slightly as if he were barely holding himself together. His eyes, glowing with an eerie light, locked onto you through the screens.

"Hello," his voice crackled through the speakers, the sound distorted but unmistakably his. "I’ve been waiting.”

Painter’s voice cut through the dim hum of the room, and as soon as the sound registered, your brain was flooded with memories—fragments of conversations, moments of strained camaraderie, the familiar yet unsettling presence of this digital entity. It dawned on you, with a sinking feeling, that this wasn’t just some trick or illusion. This was Painter.

On the surface, his face looked simple, almost innocent in its digital form, but the weight of his presence was suffocating. There was a quiet malice radiating from him, something that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. It was a different kind of danger from Sebastian. With Sebastian, you always knew what to expect—the violence, the threats, the twisted game of dominance. As frightening as he was, there was a predictability to him.

But Painter? Painter was a mystery. The way his eyes glowed from the screens, the subtle distortion in his voice, all hinted at something darker, something more calculating. You weren’t sure what he wanted or what he was capable of. And that uncertainty gnawed at you.

Sebastian wouldn’t kill you—not yet, anyway. You were somewhat useful to him. But Painter... you didn’t know if he operated by the same rules. His digital form meant he could be everywhere and nowhere, watching you, controlling things behind the scenes. You had no idea what his true intentions were, and that made him all the more dangerous.

The silence stretched between you, his digital face watching you unblinkingly from the massive wall of televisions. The room felt colder, the air thick with tension. You swallowed hard, your mind racing to piece together what he wanted, why he had led you here.

"I see you’ve been... busy," Painter's voice crackled again, softer now but no less unsettling. His expression didn’t change, but you could feel the weight of his gaze, as if he was studying you, sizing you up for something yet to come. "Is it fun? Are you enjoying yourself, running around like a little mouse? I must admit…You are truly disgusting."

The question hung in the air, the tone more reflective than threatening. But still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were walking a fine line, teetering between being useful or expendable in his eyes.

“Sebastian let me—”

“Sebastian. Sebastian! SEBASTIAN ISN'T THE ONLY ONE IN CHARGE. Don't think you get a free pass for survival just because he has fun playing with you. You are just temporary, a distraction, a nuisance. Don't you DARE to think that you could wiggle your way to freedom, not when I AM TRAPPED LIKE THIS. YOU WILL NOT LEAVE AS LONG AS I HAVE MY EYES ON YOU. I AM THE ONE THAT HAS YOU RIGHT IN HIS HAND!”

Painter's voice was no longer just unsettling—it was saturated with hatred, every syllable sharp with venom. The usual mechanical distortion of his digital form couldn't mask the intensity of the emotion behind it. His tone, rising and falling with an eerie unpredictability, seemed to buzz with something far darker, something that sent a chill racing down your spine.

It wasn’t just dislike or anger; it was pure bloodlust, raw and palpable, like a knife hovering inches from your skin. Painter hated you with a ferocity you hadn’t fully grasped until this moment. The malice in his voice threatened to reach through the screens, as if his digital form was barely containing the rage inside him.

Yet his tone snapped back, to sweet and innocent. “You see, f r i e n d. You are in d a n g e r. Sebastian is not your savior, no, he will be the one that slaughters you. He is temporarily blinded by your existence, but oh, don't you w o r r y. In the end, he will free me and not y o u.”

You shook your head, trying to push away the growing fear gnawing at you, but it was too late—Painter's words had already dug deep, filling your mind with dread. Your heartbeat quickened, each pulse loud in your ears as his laughter rang out, echoing through the room. It was a chilling sound, distorted and mechanical, yet filled with a sickening glee. The lights flickered erratically, casting strange shadows that made everything seem more sinister.

Then, just as suddenly as it began, the laughter stopped. The screens snapped to black, plunging the room into absolute darkness. For a moment, you stood frozen, the silence pressing in on you like a weight, your breath shallow and rapid as you struggled to make sense of what had just happened. Painter was gone, vanished without a trace.

You barely had time to process it before the lights flickered back on, as if nothing had happened at all. The room looked the same—the screens were still there, silent and lifeless, the heavy air still thick with tension—but something had shifted. The sudden absence of Painter's presence left you disoriented, unsure of what would happen next.

Your legs felt unsteady as you scanned the room, half-expecting him to reappear, waiting for the next wave of malice. But all that remained was the faint hum of electricity, the room eerily still. It was as if the entire encounter had been some kind of twisted nightmare, one that left you feeling more vulnerable than before.

But you knew this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

“Did I scare you?” a new voice echoed through the speakers. It was female, calm, and unnervingly polite. “Pardon me, little bunny. Let me introduce myself.”

The voice was different from Painter’s; no malice dripped from it, no distorted laughter followed. Instead, it was sharp, precise, and deliberate, every word measured.

“This is Professor Doctor Sasha Mariya Lazarski speaking, lead researcher of Urbanshade's 4th research department,” she continued, her tone holding a faint trace of amusement, as though she was speaking to a child who had wandered somewhere they shouldn't. “It was quite troublesome to track you down, but I assume you’ve found your target?”

Her voice lingered in the air like a cold mist. Urbanshade. The name sent a chill down your spine, reminding you of things you had tried not to think about—things you wished you could forget. The cold clinical nature of her voice told you this was no casual encounter. She had been watching, waiting, and she was here for a reason.

The silence stretched for a moment, as if she were giving you time to gather your thoughts—or perhaps relishing in the tension she’d created.

"You haven't forgotten your goal, have you?" Dr. Lazarski continued, her voice still eerily polite. "Now, let’s discuss the matter at hand. Since we couldn't reach out to you for a…rather long while…I used the chance to check on our precious little bunny. The scrambler is still on, and we can't have that.”

Her tone shifted, becoming more gentle, almost like a mother scolding her child with an unsettling mix of patience and authority. It was unnerving, the way she maintained that softness, as though she wasn't speaking about something so dire.

“You’ve been quite slippery, little bunny,” Dr. Lazarski said, her voice laced with a faint sigh of amusement. “For a while, we lost track of you. But I know now that’s thanks to him—the device that Sebastian carries, isn’t it?”

Her words settled heavily in the air. You had managed to evade them, temporarily disappearing from their watchful eyes because of that device. The one Sebastian had kept close, something you hadn’t thought much about until now. But now it was clear: that device was the key to everything. And they wanted it—wanted you to shut it down.

“It’s quite clever, really,” she continued, her voice dripping with gentle condescension. “A temporary blind spot in our systems, a little trick of his. But it won’t last, you know that, don’t you? You’ll have to shut it down sooner or later. It’s only a matter of time.”

The calmness in her voice made it worse. She wasn’t threatening you, not directly, but her words made it clear that they had a plan, and you were running out of options. Each second you held onto that device was borrowed time, and they were watching closely, waiting for the moment when you would slip.

“Now, my dear,” she said, her voice almost soothing. “You’ve come this far. Let’s not make things more difficult for you, hm? Be a good little bunny and do what needs to be done.”

That last sentence sent a cold shiver down your spine. The way she spoke, it was as if your fate had already been sealed, as though there was no other option but to follow her lead.

“I have a gift to help you,” Dr. Lazarski’s voice continued, her tone never losing that eerie, motherly calm. “On the third floor is a hallway leading to a temporary research lab. You’ll find some of my old belongings there, including a handy-dandy keycard. You will need it.”

Her words lingered, the promise of a gift laced with something far more sinister. She was offering help, but it was hard to shake the feeling that it came with strings attached—strings that could easily tighten around your neck.

You swallowed hard, the dim light of the room doing little to ease the knot of tension building in your chest. This wasn’t an offer out of kindness; it was a carefully laid path, one that she fully expected you to walk down. The keycard could be a way out—or a trap. But did you have any other choice?

"Don’t keep me waiting, little bunny," she added softly, as if she could sense your hesitation. "Time is running out and your father grows worried. Hate to tell him that his dear child might be…dead!~"

The keycard could be your key to survival—not just to navigate the labyrinth that Sebastian kept you trapped in, but also to open new paths, ones that might lead to freedom. It offered possibilities, but with them came risks. You could bypass the locked areas, gain a step ahead of Sebastian, maybe even find a way out. But you knew deep down, escaping the Blackside was not as simple as finding an open door.

Dr. Lazarski’s voice, soft and coaxing, had made it clear. If you wanted to escape, you’d have to play by her rules, follow Urbanshade’s instructions. There was no room for rebellion, no safe path where you could make a break for it. Escaping meant tracking down Z-13, deactivating the scrambler, and retrieving the crystal. It was all part of their plan.

But there was a grim reality in this twisted game. Completing her tasks might not guarantee your freedom. Even if you managed to find the crystal, shut down the scrambler, and get past Sebastian, you’d still be caught in Urbanshade’s web. They didn’t care about you; you were just a tool in their grander scheme. And a tool could easily be discarded once its use was over.

Still, the keycard was a means to an end, a potential weapon to use against Sebastian if things turned sour. You couldn’t deny its potential value. But each step you took down this path brought you closer to Dr. Lazarski’s cold, calculating grip, and that chilled you to the core.

You took a breath, weighing your options. Whatever choice you made, there was no turning back.

With a deep breath, you moved your feet, leaving the dark room behind. Dr. Lazarski's directions echoed in your mind, the path ahead as clear as it was unnerving. You needed the keycard—there was no other way if you wanted any chance of navigating through the facility or dealing with Sebastian. The third floor, the temporary research lab. That was your target.

As you made your way through the dimly lit hallways, the faint hum of electricity filled the silence. Each step felt heavier than the last, your heart beating in time with your footsteps. You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched, that at any moment, something—or someone—could be lurking around the next corner.

The stairwell leading to the third floor loomed ahead, its metal door slightly ajar. You hesitated for a second, glancing over your shoulder as if expecting Painter to reappear or Sebastian to emerge from the shadows. But the hallway remained empty, the stillness pressing in on you.

Pushing the door open, the creaking metal echoed through the stairwell. The climb felt longer than it should have, each step a reminder of how far you were from safety. But you kept moving, determined. Reaching the third floor, you stepped into a narrow hallway, the air noticeably cooler.

This was it.

The lab was just ahead, down the hall where the light flickered sporadically. You could feel a knot tightening in your stomach. Dr. Lazarski’s promise of a “gift” lingered in your mind, and you couldn’t shake the nagging doubt that came with it. But you had no choice now.

You moved forward, ready to see what awaited you.

You stepped into the hallway, the flickering lights casting erratic shadows on the walls as you approached the door to the lab. The air here felt stale, as if no one had been in this part of the building for a long time. Your hand hovered over the handle, and with a soft creak, the door swung open, revealing the research lab.

It looked as though it had been left in a hurry, abandoned mid-experiment. The room was large but cluttered, with overturned chairs and papers scattered across the floor, some of them crumpled and torn. The dim light revealed stacks of old folders and documents, some stained with what looked like coffee, others torn as though someone had hastily searched through them before fleeing. A few cabinets were left open, revealing rows of empty shelves that once held important equipment or files now long gone.

In the center of the room stood a large metal table, covered in dusty instruments—scalpels, syringes, and strange-looking vials filled with murky, discolored liquids. The lab equipment, once precise and organized, was in disarray. Broken glass littered one corner of the room, where a microscope lay overturned, its lenses cracked.

The walls were lined with tall, metal shelves that held rusted equipment and various electronic devices. Some screens flickered with static, while others were completely dead, their once bright surfaces now covered in dust. On one of the shelves, you noticed a row of petri dishes, some of them still filled with moldy substances that had long since decayed.

It was clear that whoever had worked here had left in a rush. Loose cables dangled from the ceiling where overhead lights had once been connected, and a nearby computer screen was frozen, stuck on an error message as if it had been hastily abandoned mid-task.

At the far end of the room, amidst the chaos, was a small desk. On top of it lay what you had come for—a sleek, metallic keycard, sitting on top of a stack of disorganized files. It gleamed faintly in the flickering light, out of place in the otherwise neglected lab.

You crossed the room carefully, your eyes scanning every shadow, every corner, half-expecting something—or someone—to be watching. The place felt wrong, as if whatever had driven them out in such haste still lingered, waiting.

Your fingers closed around the keycard, the metal cool to the touch. For a moment, you stood there, staring at it, knowing it was more than just a key—it was a tool, a step toward something larger, something both freeing and terrifying. But this wasn’t over yet. There was still Z-13, the scrambler, the crystal.

You pocketed the keycard, your mind already racing with possibilities and plans. The lab remained silent, a graveyard of forgotten experiments and lost time. It was time to leave before the ghosts of this place caught up to you. Your next step was a mistake. The floor groaned under your weight, cracking until it gave way, sending you plunging through into a body of water on what appeared to be the second floor.

Green torches floated eerily in the water, their ghostly glow cutting through the darkness and guiding your way. You followed them, each stroke through the cool water feeling heavier than the last, but the flickering lights kept pulling you forward. As you broke the surface, you were met not with relief, but with an unsettling familiarity. The room around you was nothing extraordinary—just another plain office space with bland walls and stark furniture—but the tension in the air was undeniable. You recognized it immediately, every detail, every corner. It was a place you'd been before, a place that held memories you wished you could forget.

Your heart sank as the realization dawned on you: the path you had followed led straight back to Sebastian. The subtle dread that crept over you grew stronger with each passing second, as if the room itself was preparing you for the inevitable encounter. You knew this wasn’t just a coincidence. It never was with Sebastian.

The familiar clanging of a vent being kicked open echoed through the sterile office, the sound reverberating off the walls like a warning. Your pulse quickened, knowing exactly what that meant—you were close. Too close to your so-called "temporary home," Sebastian's shop.

Before you could gather your thoughts, his voice pierced the silence, rough and impatient. "YOU BETTER MOVE BEFORE I DECIDE TO LEAVE YOU IN THE HALLWAY!" His angry scream sent a chill down your spine. It wasn't just a threat; with Sebastian, it was a promise. You knew better than to test his temper—he had little patience for delays, and you were already pushing it.

You hurried forward, heart pounding, knowing that whatever lay ahead wasn’t just another task, but another trial in the long list of dangers that came with being anywhere near Sebastian's world.

"I'm back!" you shouted hastily, making your way toward the vent, arms full with the items you'd collected. You scrambled through the narrow passage, the cold metal pressing against your skin as you hurried to avoid another one of Sebastian's outbursts.

When you finally popped out on the other side, you were immediately met by his towering figure, his presence looming over you like a shadow. His fluorescent eyes, glowing unnaturally in the dim light, locked onto you, their intensity sending a shiver down your spine. "Took you long enough…” he muttered.

"Took you long enough... bunny," he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm, yet laced with an unsettling edge. The nickname felt more like a mockery than anything else, a reminder of how he viewed you—small, fragile, and easily caught.

Befriending Sebastian was the exit. Track him down, turn of the device he owns and get the crystal.

"Good work, for once," Sebastian muttered, his voice oozing condescension. His large hand landed on your head, rough and heavy, as he ruffled your hair like you were some kind of pet. The gesture was far from affectionate, more of a reminder of your place beneath him.

"Finally useful for once. And yet, not smart," he continued, his fluorescent eyes narrowing as he studied you. "You could've kept it—used it as a guaranteed exit." His words dripped with mockery, as if he were testing you, waiting to see if you’d flinch or reveal something in your expression.

You kept your face steady, masking the frustration boiling beneath the surface. He wasn’t wrong—you could’ve used the keycard for your own escape, but playing it that way would have burned bridges you couldn’t afford to lose just yet. For now, you had to endure the humiliation, take the hit, and let Sebastian think he was the one in control.

In your mind, the game wasn’t over. You’d make sure the next move was yours.

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