#it just feels strange to me that I’m the only one who feels this way

[yanderenightmare]

Bakugou Katsuki

♡ TW: omegaverse, size difference, reader's second gender is omega, so there are mentions of pregnancy, somewhat subjugating omega politics, old-fashioned high-class politics of sorts

♡ prequel to this

♡ GN reader

His eyes are garnet and slim—you can’t make up your mind if they’re judgemental or just assessing. Either would be allowed, of course. The point of the date is for him to decide if you’re sufficient or not.

And yet, you’re the one taking him in. His main is ashen blonde, boyishly spikey and wild—not fine-kempt and slick like you’d pictured. He didn’t have any grey hair either, or stubble, or wrinkles. Though he’s still much bigger and burlier than they are, he can’t be any older than the eldest males back at the institution.

He’s obviously an Alpha, and still, it’s so odd.

“You’re young,” you end up saying.

His nose scrunches. “No younger than you.”

It must have sounded accusatory, even when you only meant to point it out for yourself. You probably ought to have said it silently, inside yourself, and not out loud like you did.

And so you apologize, “I’m sorry, I was—I was just expecting someone older…” You try smiling, but the thought of him actually having been older makes your throat tight, and you swallow thickly instead. “Much older.”

He sighs, looks off to the side instead of at you. His brows tighten—you probably want someone who’s already got a house and a car and a boat on a lake, not to mention a good salary and not the intern pay he’ll be living off of for at least the next year or so. His foot taps beneath the table. You feel it in the floorboards. “You disappointed or somethin’?” he grumbles through grit teeth and a slim frown.

Your eyes widen, and you shake your head, blruting, “No!” You even jump out of your chair, both hands slamming flat on the table, making the napkin-wrapped cutlery clatter within their confines. 

Quickly, but too late, you realize you’re causing a scene. Cheeks burning, you look around before settling down again—you’re not making a very good first impression so far.

You take a breath, confessing, “I mean, I’m happy,” You place your hands in your lap and then start fiddling with them. “This way, we can be together for a long time…” Your voice is breathy as you let out a somewhat apologetic sigh, smiling some. “If you’ll have me, of course.”

He doesn’t say anything, and you don’t dare look up to gauge his expression.

You end up laughing nervously in the silence, feeling the joke arise before you're able to dispel it. “I was afraid I was gonna have to be your nurse soon.”

His foot stops tapping. Then he scoffs.

You perk up again, fumbling over your newest mistake, already apologizing a second time so far, “I’m sorry, that was rude. You’re just not what I was expecting—I’m a little caught off guard, is all.”

He huffs, then grins. “That’s okay. You don’t gotta apologize.”

You both sit in silence after that. You pick your nails more. All the questions you’ve prepared are useless given his age—he doesn’t have an answer to how many kids he wants from you. Probably. It somehow feels strange asking him when he isn’t in his thirties or forties or early fifties.

You look at him in askance. It really is odd.

“You can ask—if you’re curious,” he sanctions.

You really want to, but you’ve made enough mistakes already. Your teachers wouldn’t be proud if they witnessed you acting so childish and not as the proper little lady they’ve trained you to be. 

“No, I shouldn’t.” You shake your head and look down at your lap.

“Come on, you don’t gotta worry about being rude with me,” he insists.

You bite your lip, feeling fidgety in your chair, peering up at him. “You sure?”

“Hit me.” 

The question leaps from your tongue before you have the mind to regret it. “How can you afford this?”

He leans back in his chair. “I can’t—not yet. My folks are paying.”

You hum—that makes more sense. “They must be nice,” you say.

“They try,” he agrees.

There’s a silence again. You don’t have anything appropriate to ask. You were more prepared to talk when spoken to, to answer his questions about your health and hobbies, all silly things that make you cute and likable, but given he’s your age, none of it seems any interesting. It seems he doesn’t have much to ask, either.

“I was unsure about this,” he declares after a while. “To be honest with you, it was all my mom’s idea. I didn’t ask for it…” With a pause, he picks up the menu that had been lying undisturbed in wait for his decision. “But, she tends to be right about most things. So, I think I’ll take the offer this once.”

He lets you decide without ordering for you. Neither of you decide to drink, even though you’re both old enough. The conversation is awkward, but you giggle a couple of times and he smirks in turn. You hadn’t anticipated it—this feeling. You’d anticipated the nerves and the tension—but not this other thing, this sweet fluttering feeling blossoming in your belly, flirty and fizzy. Is this what they call butterflies?

He’s left asking himself the same question.

♡ BAKUGOU KATSUKI masterlist ♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

[robinsfilm]

OH, TAKE ME BACK (TO THE NIGHT WE MET)

PAIRING: jason todd ✗ gn!reader ;

SYNOPSIS: the promise between the two of you never broke, not on that roof as children, not even now.

ANON ASKED: " Reader meets/is with Jay after he becomes Red Hood. After finding out that he used to be Robin, she recalls an interaction she had years ago with the Boy Wonder, unaware that they would paths again years later. " ;

WORD COUNT: 0.8k ;

NOTES: i like this one, i truly do, writing angst is a whole different experience. this is angst/comfort though, because i'm not evil (because i can't handle it). cross posted on my AO3.

♯ MASTERLIST ; NAVIGATION.

THE NIGHT SKY OF GOTHAM HOLDS NO STARS TO COMFORT YOU. No stars to shed the soft and guiding light on you as you sit on the steep edge of the roof. Small feet dange from the brink as a heavy feeling settles in your heart, spreading like an infection, all-consuming in your body.

The tears falling from your eyes onto your cheeks go unnoticed by you, even as they drop onto your wobbly and scarred knees. They burn.

You wish the sky did not look somber and dim tonight. The cold air bites at any exposed flesh, even crawling its way into your clothes. Any semblance of comfort had been stripped from your hands; no amount of clawing and hanging on mattered. You were alone, on an abandoned roof, overlooking Gotham in all her melancholic glory.

Only the sounds of cars passing and the distant murmur of people filled your ears until a shuffle behind you caught your attention.

Turning your head, you tried to focus your gaze on the person—the kid behind you.

He seemed to be around your age, with messy hair, cheeks red, and chests rising. The red and green of his suit standing out next to the washed-out color of our surroundings. But the golden ‘R’ engraved above where his heart should be leaves no chance for you to mistake who the boy in front of you is.

The Robin.

Robin stands here with you. He opens his mouth to speak, although hesitantly, “You’re not going to jump, are you?”

You stare at him for a moment, taking every detail of him in: his jet black hair—a mess of ink on top of his head—his slightly tan skin; he has a hand out, reaching out to you; you can feel his eyes taking in your state.

“You’re not very good at this.” You mumble as you shuffle away from the edge, “I’m not going to jump, bird boy.”

He straightens up, his spine going stiff. You think you're imagining the pink hue on his cheeks.

He pouts, “It’s Robin, actually.”

He takes a single step closer to you, as if asking if it's okay. When you don't decline, he settles down next to you, his yellow cape grazing your hand.

“You should get that cleaned,” he motions to your scarred knees.

“I will.” You answer with pensiveness in your detached voice.

He considers something for a moment before moving next to you. He takes your hand in his. He feels warm, you note.

“C’mon. I’ll help you.” He speaks as he pulls you away from the edge, away from the somber and dim sky, the biting cold air.

He glances back at you. When he sees the unconvinced look in your eyes, his jaw tightens. “I swear.”

“You’re not going to fly away somewhere else, bird boy?”

“I’m staying here.” With you.

His stare doesn't leave your gaze, just as his hand doesn't waver in its hold of yours. You don't pull away; you don't push him away.

You hold onto his hand, letting him guide you instead of the stars of the dim sky.

Strange, you note; your heart doesn't feel so heavy anymore.

*****

The mellow air spreads through the shared apartment of you and Jason as it wraps you in its warm hold. The dim night sky is lit by only the moon and a single star following the crescent moving through the coal-black sky.

Jason settles his head on your chest, bringing his ear to your chest, feeling your heartbeat. It flows through his body as a solace, bringing him comfort.

When you recall the interaction with the young Robin, he could see the bittersweet memory in your wistful eyes. Your saudade voice rings out in his mind over and over again.

He remembers an icy cold night, so unlike this one in your arms. He remembers the biting air, the starless sky, how even the moon decided to abandon Gotham City that day, how it left its people alone.

How it left you on that roof.

He remembers approaching you, seeing the way you curled into yourself, the way you hid from the word that night.

He remembers taking your freezing hand in his, clutching it in his hold as a feeble attempt to warm them.

He remembers how unsure you looked and how you were already getting ready for the chance for him to let go and leave you alone on that roof. The hesitant shaking of your hand in his leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

He remembers the moment of trust appearing—the moment when you let him tend to you. Two confused children on a cold Gotham night, looking for warmth wherever they found it.

Jason wraps his arms around you tighter, tangling his lips around yours as one. You return his hold, arms wrapping around his neck, burying yourself in the safety of him, wherefore the word ceases.

“I’m not leaving, not again.” He mumbles in the crook of your neck. You're thankful he can't see you right now.

The tears you shed for him, he already knows.

“You swear?”

“I swear.”

© ROBINSFILM ﹕ I do not give consent for my writing to be posted or used on any other platforms without my permission and proper credit.

[drgnflyteabox]

lament [1]

part one -> honey || part two -> tbd

pairing: john price x fem reader summary: as you recover from prolonged illness, you meet a man on a hike in the woods just as strange things begin happening around you. tags/warnings: creepy / horror vibes, slowburn, phone sex, masturbation, injuries, mention of hospitals, pneumonia, mobility aids, softdom!price (for now), dubcon due to intoxication, tags will update as the story does w.c: 5.9k

The woods are a peaceful, meditative thing. You’ve been spending your mornings there walking with Diva, meandering through the local trails and venturing off for pictures of red mushrooms or Diva in her little yellow raincoat, sniffing something or other.

The trails were scarcely used and took a couple of hours to finish, a longer trek in taller trees that closed off the sunlight and created peace through insulation, like an echo chamber of wet pitter patter from rain the night before and the gentle calls of birds, broken only by the sounds of your hiking shoes crunching gently through pebbles and leaves.

Quiet. It’s just what you need, slowly erasing memories of bright fluorescent lights and the smell of antiseptics. The trail isn’t elevated, it’s long, but not elevated. That’s important for your recovery, two months spent in a hospital bed attached to breathing apparatus.

Relief, freedom, as slow as your steps are and as beleaguered is your breathing, it’s pure relief. You’re no longer breathing through a straw, building strength walk by walk, spending time with Diva and watching her little tail wiggle under her coat. This time is good for her, too. You could sink to your knees and praise a higher being for the time off and sick pay policies your job has - so could Diva.

The shaking continues, your limbs still weak, muscles unused to standing and walking. You often find yourself sitting, on a log or a rock, and taking time to breathe and recover. Sometimes a granola bar makes its way into the mix, sometimes a handful of trail mix.

The last few times, there’s been a man. Tall, imposing, walking much quicker than you even with a brace around his knee. His posture tells you he takes himself pretty seriously, or he’s military, if there’s any difference.

Mutton chops, mustache, cargo pants. He’s been coming up behind you with sure steps, barely a limp even with his knee, and going by you so fast there's a breeze, makes you a little nervous to get mowed down.

Diva is weary of him. Her hackles raise, though she doesn’t bark, and she tucks close to you when he goes by. You don't feel unsafe, just a little surprised at the break in monotony no matter how tiny it is.

Doesn’t help that it’s pretty nice watching him go, that broad back and tight shirt, those well sculpted legs. Hey, you’re still sick and weak, still recovering. Sue me, you think, leaning on a tree when your lungs start burning again a little too much.

He stops, a few feet in front of you.

“You broken?” His voice is just as you imagined, rough maybe from smoking, maybe from overuse.

“What?” Broken?

“You alright?” He repeats, turning then. The quiet is a little oppressive now, with your struggle. You’re wheezing.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine-” you cough, dryly. “Just asthmatic.” It’s an easy explanation, you’re trying to get him to move on. You’ve never felt in danger, but it’s still the middle of the woods and he’s still a strange man.

“Need a hand?” He has to look down at you, even from a distance. His head is tilted down, arms folding across his chest, biceps calling to you like sirens.

You shake your head, squatting down as best you can, taking the breaths learned from your doctor and pulling out your steroid inhaler. One puff, two puff.

The man looks at you skeptically, eyes small and narrowed, flitting once to Diva who would fail as a service dog, but tries her best at guarding you despite being so small. Her gaze is pinpointed to him, as stiff as he is.

”Right, then,” is all he says before he’s back to his soldiers march.

You imagine him with horse blinders on and pulling a sled behind him, wheezing a laugh into the empty air.

Recovery is not linear. That’s what your doctor tells you, what you were told before you left the ICU, before you were discharged all together. There’ll be ups and downs, moments where you feel you’ve backslid to the point of having to start all over.

You get it, really. It’s a mantra. Recovery is not linear.

What they don't warn you is that it’s different when you’re actually feeling it, waking up weaker than ever and coughing, burning in your chest. It’s jarring, every cell in your body crying for oxygen and yet you aren’t low enough that you need to go back to the ER, just sit up in bed and stare out the window to the fortress of green that surrounds your house.

Recovery is not linear. You watch comfort shows - animated Halloween specials, a couple months too early. They fit the cooling temperatures, the slow yellowing of the trees.

Food is hard when you can’t stand for long periods of time, so you order in. Soup, and an extra chicken crunch treat for Diva on her dinner.

It’s only when you turn Charlie Brown off that you hear it.

Tap tap tap. Deliberate, timed taps, like a mini hammer on a mini nail. Quiet enough that your ears strain, and yet you can just barely catch the sound. It’s coming from the side of your house, opposite to your bedroom and closest to the living room you were just in.

Tap tap tap. Maybe it’s the vibe you put yourself in, but you shiver with apprehension. Could be an animal, you do live fairly far out, and by the woods. Your driveway is long, separated from the highway just outside of town.

Diva is usually a false alarm - she raises her hackles at the stove, she’s not trustworthy when it comes to alerting you. And yet you look, and find her standing straight up and staring at the wall the sound is coming from, lips peeling back.

Only there's nothing you can do. You aren’t gonna go check, not with your weak limbs and thin breath. Theres a landline in the kitchen with a long cord, and your cellphone. The best you can do is lock the windows and doors, which you do, shuffling so as to make the least amount of noise possible.

Next the lights and curtains, drawn and shut. You tuck a knife under your mattress, more for reassurance than anything, and close your bedroom door behind Diva.

The only reason you’re able to sleep is the bedroom door locks. The handle has one, and there’s a chain above that. You tuck into bed under the covers like a child hiding from their closet, straining to hear the tap tap tap. Sometime between you locking all the entries and exits, it stopped, but you’re still unmoored.

Your lungs fare better the next morning, eased by rest. You’re back in the woods by late morning, driving up to the trailhead through the canopy of trees. It really is beautiful, part of the reason you moved here, other than peace and quiet.

There's another car as you pull up, a reliable model in a dark colour, a surprise since you’re usually the first one there. 

You park away from it in an effort to not be creepy, but still sneak a peak while Diva does her post-car ride shakeout and pee.

It’s the man from before, sitting in the front seat, talking on a phone. He looks serious, frowning, talking in a measured way but you can still hear the volume as you pass by.

He waves, and you wave back, giving him a little smile.

Diva leads the way, prancing into the woods without fear even as the leaves start blocking out the sun. She inspires you - a little dog, brave, braver than you were last night.

God, it was probably a rabbit or a possum stuck somewhere. Maybe a mouse, and though you hope it isn’t it is the season for them. Cooler temperatures means creatures trying to enter your house. Means you have yet to drive down to town and pick up insulation supplies for your windows before fall really hits and you’re freezing.

Making a mental note of that, you lean heavily on your walking stick and pause. It’s one of those days, needing more aid than usual after yesterday and more breaks.

Crunch.

“Sorry, honey,” the army man holds his arms up, seeming sheepish as you flip around to face him. “Didn’t mean to scare ya.”

“Oh, no, it’s okay,” your cheeks burn in embarrassment. “Just jumpy today.”

“That’s alright,” his eyes crinkle at the corners, softening at the edges. He’s approachable today, not speed walking through the woods like there's a pot of gold at the end. “Mind if I join you?”

Unexpected, but with your eyes at pec-height it’s an easy yes. You deserve a handsome escort for the second half of the trail, and your emergency alarm is tucked in your front sweater pocket if you need it.

“Sure,” you nod. “I’m pretty slow, though, just to warn you. Recovering.”

“That’s fine, I should be taking it easier anyway. Make my physio happy for once,” he gestures to his knee with a chuckle. “John.”

You tell him your name. John. It suits him, the masculinity of it, the simpleness too. He gives the impression that he’s careful about how he presents himself, that outside of this sudden friendliness he’s very closed off - the way he was when you’d come across him before. Now he calls you honey, and touches his fingertips to your back as you navigate a patch of rough terrain warped by roots.

“I’m off until my knee is battle-ready, again,” he says it like it’s a joke, but there’s a steel edge beneath his words. You ask about his job: contract work, he says, not self-employed but with pockets of free time.

“Did you move here recently?” The wind shivers the trees, chillier than last week, as you meander.

“Ah, didn’t move here,” he scratches his thumb with his nose. “Staying with a friend. Needed the fresh air.”

“I get it,” your shoulder brushes his arm. “That’s why I moved here too.”

“Helps your asthma?”

You pause for a moment, confused. And then.

“Oh!” You’re a little embarrassed. “I don’t have asthma, actually. I mean I could have it, or develop it. But really I had pneumonia for a while, really wiped me out.”

“Ah, I see,” his voice says surprised, but his face stays the same. You wonder if he notices. “Terrible, that. My mum had a bad bout of it a couple years back, gave us a scare.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” you aren’t sure how old John is, but you can assume it was dangerous for his mother to have caught such a bad infection. “How’s she doing now?”

“Much better. Healthy as a goat.”

“A goat?” You’re laughing, then. A giggle that has him smiling back at you. “Haven’t heard that one before.”

John hums when he doesn’t reply verbally, and nods like you’re giving a university lecture. The attentiveness is nice, but it makes you self conscious, unused to having so much attention so focused on you. And he is so focused, like you’re discussing nuclear launch codes or what a quark is or something important. Honestly, it makes you hide your face in an embarrassingly shy way, avoiding eye contact.

He walks with you slowly, patiently down the path, arms crossed behind his back. Every once in a while either or the two of you laugh, which seems to bother Diva, whose been looking back at John suspiciously or trying to get between you the whole time.

“So sorry about that,” you really don’t know what’s gotten into her. Sure, she’s a pro at finding innocuous things suspicious, but you’ve been walking for a while now and she usually warms up when she realizes you’re okay with the offensive person or item.

“Don’t worry about it, honey,” honey again. He sure knows how to make a lady flustered. “She’s just looking out for her mama, right?”

If your pussy reacts to that, it’s no one’s business but your own.

The air chills, day by day. John has begun joining you on your walks every other day, and sometimes you catch him jogging to the trailhead from the road instead of driving it. It makes you wonder where he’s, whether it’s close or he’s really pushing his knee, and whether or not he’s flirting with you when he shows up all sweaty in a tight shirt.

Another anomaly is that the tapping has returned, nearly every night. You’re scared every time, won’t even let Diva out for a final pee and have stuck to walking up at the buttcrack of dawn to make sure she’s taken care of.

Tedious, is what it is. Ridiculous. And yet when those little taps come, in different places around the house now, different walls, you hide under the covers with Diva growling her little growl at the bedroom door and try to sleep.

When cabin fever starts to set in, anxiety and insane thoughts like, what if someone is trying to break into my house? You decide it’s past time for a visit to town.

The trip serves many purposes, anyways. Diva needs treats, kibble, and a new ball. You need groceries, tampons, new socks. Overall worth it outside of the fresh air and human interaction with more than just one person.

“Hey! Hey you!”

You’re in the bakery, weighing with your hands two loaves of artisanal bread. Just the one will do, since your freezer is small, but you want both. Pumpernickel or dark rye? Which will go better with the honey ham sandwich slices?

“Hello? Earth to-”

Your deliberation is interrupted by a waving in your face. You realize Jo, your only real friend in town, has run across the street to catch your attention.

“Oh gosh, my bad,” you look down at your shoes, then reach for a hug. She squeezes you.

“That’s okay, babe, off in your own world?” She’s dazzling, too cute for such a small town. Her ringlets bounce on her shoulders and her mouth, which is always smiling, is stretched wide with mirth. Makes you feel warm inside that she cares for you.

“Trying to make a hard decision. You know, end world hunger or stop all wars.” Stupid, but she laughs. You love making her laugh, and if you were lesbian you’d have made a move on her. Maybe you were, just a little.

“Why not both?” Her hands find your shoulders and squeeze. It’s then that you notice someone behind her, a much taller someone. At first the muscled chest and thick neck make you think it’s John, and a small squeeze of jealousy grips your stomach.

Then you see the mohawk, the difference in height. This man is looking at you with a similar intensity, though, all piercing blue eyes, thick furrowed brows, pin-straight posture.

“You’re right,” your laugh is more awkward, then, motioning with your eyes to the man.

“Oh, I’m so rude,” she turns to him. “This is Johnny, we met a few weeks ago.”

A wink. Ah, they met a few weeks ago. You picture them in the only bar in town, low lighting and Jo looking like Botticelli’s Venus, plump cheeks and red lips. And yeah, Johnny’s pretty good looking. You’d laugh about the mixup and the names if it wasn’t rude.

“Nice tae meet ya,” his accent is thick, palm warm and rough against yours. “Shall we, lass?”

He’s talking to Jo. They exchange glances, him looking at you once so fast you almost miss it. There’s something uncomfortably familiar about the look he gives you, but you shake it off. Nerves, you think. From the taps.

“Right,” Jo looks a little sheepish, then. “We’re off to the movies, but nice to see you!”

You raise a brow. You can’t help it, it’s 10am. Jo laughs and they leave.

You bake, sometimes. It’s a good hobby for someone on a leave of absence with nothing much else to do but read, walk and play with her dog.

The oven sometimes scares Diva, and she curls up in your room indignantly until you’re done using it. You’ve always wondered why, since she came to you as a puppy and hasn’t got a single reason to be upset with the appliance. 

Oh well.

You decide to bring brown butter chocolate chip cookies on your hike, hoping to see John and give him one. Your interactions haven’t progressed past leisurely chatting and walking together, but he’s a handsome man and you're still a little stir-crazy. At least with work, it wasn’t just hours on hours of uninterrupted alone time.

Funny how that works, isn’t it? You spend every day at work wishing not to be at work, and once you have the opportunity you have no idea what to do with yourself.

John loves the cookies. He takes two right out of the Tupperware, flattering you by groaning as he eats. The recipe is that good, but you think he might be putting it on a bit anyway.

It’s sweet.

“Fantastic,” he says, licking his fingers. You try not to look. “You bake often?”

“Just something to do, keeps me busy.” Diva has growled at John again, her second offense. She’s being a real heel today, rude and fussy. You elect to schedule a vet visit for a checkup soon.

“No one to keep you company in that house?” He stops when you need to stop, takes the opportunity to stretch his bad leg.

“What?” You take a puff of the inhaler, frowning a little.

“Are you lonely?” A weird question, but you chalk it up to small town weirdness.

“A little, but that one over there keeps me company,” as if she knows, she turns and yips. “What do you mean, that house?”

“You mentioned you live in your grandfather's house, no? Inherited it.” He chuckles at Diva.

“Did I? I don’t think…” you fully frown, thinking back to your conversations. Did you mention that? You haven’t even thought of it yourself for a while, not wanting to revisit painful memories. Your grandpa did pass you his house, but you’re usually more private than offering more than surface-level information to strangers.

“I believe so,” he looks deep in thought himself, squinting up at the umbrella of trees above you. That comforts you, the fact that he’s trying to recall. You’ve been so anxious lately.

“I must have forgotten, sorry. I’ve just been so scrambled lately.” John perks up at that, turning towards you as you finally continue walking.

“Scrambled?” His palm finds the back of your arm, the meat of it. He squeezes you, and it fills you with warmth. “How so?”

“Ah, well, just some animals around my house. I think,” you meet eyes, and he gets the best of you, so you elect to stare between his brows.

“Want me to take a look?” His tone is very serious. You shiver.

“I don’t think it’s necessary… I think there’s just some mice making a home for winter. I gotta call an expert,” He slides his hand down to your elbow, holding it gently. You’re nearing the end of the trail, the woods getting brighter around you. Diva marks her territory here more than anywhere else and yips at John again. 

“I could do it for free though, honey,” the air drops where you are, a gust of wind creating a symphony of sound all around you. A little romantic, you think. Ridiculous.

“Well,” far be it from you to pass up free help. “Only if you let me pay you back somehow.” 

“You have already,” he holds up the cookie Tupperware, shaking it gently. 

“Then let me make you dinner. Whatever you want!” The enthusiasm in which you say it has you cringing at yourself, but mentally you justify it; it’s completely normal to invite a friend over, especially to pay back a favour. You’re not being obvious that you’re attracted to him at all, no sir. Definitely not scared and in need of comfort, Mr John sir. 

“Sounds like a plan. I’m free after 7 o’clock.”

You elect to be cliche and make British food. Good British food, a proper roast. Something you’d had a few times with friends in pubs or that time you’d visited London as an exchange student. Hot, smothered in gravy, salty and perfect with a mug of beer British food. You really hope he likes it, that he doesn't think you’re weird or making fun of him for his accent.

John is a proper gentleman, so punctual that he knocks on your door the very second it turns to 7:30 on your oven timer.

Diva has to battle her hatred of the stove with her need to announce a guest, staying in hallway purgatory barking at both.

The smell of garlicky roast beef, rosemary and thyme, salt and boiling potatoes is rife in the air, no doubt spilling into the woods through your badly insulated windows.

The moment it hits John, you can see it. Your door opens, creaking, and his eyes fix to you so quickly it’s almost physical.

“Hey! Thanks for coming,” you open it, motioning for him to come in. “Don’t mind Diva, she’s not a fan of the oven being on.”

He toes his boots off, still staring, like you’re a prize heifer and he’s set on buying you at the farm auction. A little sexy, mostly nerve wracking. Diva peeks around the corner at him and the sound of her little nails on the hardwood breaks the tension.

“Smells like home,” he leans closer to you to put his coat up on the rack. “You really went through all this trouble?”

“It’s the least I can do for your help.” At that moment, he seems to remember.

“Right, the mice. Want to show me where you heard them, or can I not steal you away from the stove?” His voice deepens as he talks, intensifying, grating hot coals and growling like a bear. Blue, focused eyes find the half-apron you’re wearing. You swear his pupils dilate, but he shakes his head before you’re sure.

“I can show you, there’s still a few minutes left for everything.”

The air is biting outside, cold with the evening breeze and dark already. So dark you equip your biggest, brightest flashlight and walk around the house with him, explaining the taps all around.

“I figure it’s them trying to dig holes so they can get in,” you hand the flashlight to him, feeling your fingers brush, and shivering in response. “I’ve been too chicken to check, to be honest. I keep thinking it’s a person walking around, not some animal.”

John nods as you speak, squatting by your little tool shed, looking diligently and moving items as he needs to. Then, he looks up, smiling a little.

“Why don’t you head inside, darling? Let me take care of this.”

“Sure,” you squeak. Squeak. Your stomach makes a knot and you scurry like one of the mice he’s looking for back into the house to mash the potatoes and make the gravy.

You are quite proud of this meal, not a proper cook by a long shot but it looks and smells pretty good. The Yorkshire puddings are alright, too, and that was the hardest part. Plus, you think, it’s free food. He’s gotta be happy with the effort, even if he winds up not liking it, right? That’s something your mother always told you. Someone’s put in a lot of effort for this meal, she’d say, pointing at you with a long nail. Better eat it.

“Think I found the little buggers,” John startles you just a little as he comes in, toeing his boots off again. You’re plating his plate, huge portions of mash potato and roast carrot and brussel sprouts nestled to the beef. His eyes look at the plate, then to you, then down to your apron, and you pretend you can’t see him adjusting his pants.

This isn’t what you think it is, you remind yourself. Two friends, one lending a hand and the other paying them back. You don’t even know his last name.

“Oh god, how bad was it?” You ladle gravy over his portion, then yours, pretending to be unaffected when he walks into your kitchen and takes a huge sniff.

“Not too bad. I’ll have to come back with some traps, if that’s alright.” You want to say John, you can come back anytime, but you don’t.

“Glad to know it was mice at least,” that’s the truth. A feeling you didn’t totally realize you had turns from paranoia into relief. “I was really scared it was some creep walking around my house, trying to get in.”

“Here,” John takes his plate when you hand it to him, but puts his phone into your hands before you can get yours. “Put your number in there, honey. Call me if anything like that happens.”

Honey. You fucking love that, so much it renders you temporarily mute as you punch in your number. He doesn't let you bring your own plate to the table, picks it up while you’re busy and comes back to shepherd you there with a palm on your lower back.

“Thank you,” you say, struck timid by his casual and yet firm guidance of you.

Diva makes an appearance for supper, summoned by the smell of beef and the oven being turned off. Her little claws tip tap against the hardwood as she circles your chair, tucks herself under the table looking for scraps, and whines at John while he’s trying to eat.

You nudge her away from him with a socked foot, stuttering that she isn’t usually like this, honest, only for him to brush it off kindly.

After supper, when you’re full and you can’t handle him looking at you with those half-lidded, well-fed bear eyes anymore, you move to pick up the dishes and bring them to the kitchen.

“Ah ah,” John cuts in front of you, stealing the plates and cutlery. “You cooked, I’ll clean.”

Useless to argue - he’s built like a brick shithouse. You’re forced to pack up the leftovers, one container for you and one for him to take home. For no reason other than you’re feeling especially soft and gooey, you wrap up a few homemade fig and date granola bars for him to take too.

“Thank you,” he gruffs, rolling his sleeves to his elbows, flexing his forearm muscles, making you hot again.

“It’s really the least I can-”

Snap. Fuck, the day that creepy noises don’t happen near your house is the day you convert to whatever religion that’ll make it happen. Both your heads turn to the living room window, where the sound came from, a crack in the otherwise quiet night air.

Anxiety curls in your stomach, sharp and dreadful. You try to remind yourself that you live in the woods for gods sake, there’s gonna be sounds, but that awful sense of danger is back and if you were Diva your hackles would be raised.

John frowns, wiping his hands on a towel. He doesn't seem as phased as you are, probably because he’s not worried over boogeymen haunting the forest like you are, but when he looks back at you and sees your fright he leans in and murmurs that he’ll go take a look.

“It’s okay, it’s probably one of my furry friends,” you try, but he shakes his head, putting a palm on your hip for a brief moment as reassurance and then he’s out the door.

God, you’re so nervous you whip out a bottle of wine, desperate for a little courage. The feeling is so strange, you’re used to feeling safe and cushioned by your home, by the forest. Even your little dog whimpers, tapping her way into the kitchen, rubbing her face on your leg like a cat. She’s a comfort still, something about there being a more nervous person (or animal) that inspires bravery. Still, you won't peek out the window.

The wine is good. A little too dry, but still good. A housewarming gift from your mother, even though she knew you didn’t drink unless it was social.

Or unless you were nervously waiting for some man to come back, having dealt with your problems for you. She’d weep to see you, aproned and wringing your hands and sipping red wine too quickly. Whatever, you think. There’s nothing wrong with letting him help.

John comes back in, maybe a few minutes later or maybe a half hour, you can’t tell. Your wine is half empty, and you feel awkward about it so you pour him one without asking.

“Think you’ve got more than one furry friend,” John says, laughter in his voice. In his fingers he’s got tufts of light brown hair, which he holds up. “Dinner, if you hunt.”

“Ah, I don’t,” and you wouldn’t. You’re fine eating meat or even purchasing it from a local hunter to eat, but there’s something in you that’s deeply uncomfortable with the idea. Maybe it’s cowardice, unable to do the dirty work and yet enjoying the fruits of someone else’s labour. Maybe you’re putting stock in something that really isn’t worth stressing over. Either way, you’re overthinking, and only stop when John steps into your space.

“Hey- you alright, darling?” You like darling too, just as much as honey.

“Yeah, sorry,” your hands find the wine glass you poured for him, and you hand it over. One thing about abstaining is that it hits you quickly, even with the big meal. “Want to sit? I’ve got a fireplace.”

You cringe at yourself, not meaning to sound so suggestive. Oh well, he doesn’t seem to mind, just nods and takes you by the elbow again to your living room.

“This all the heading you’ve got?” John asks.

“Er, no. I have to get my windows insulated for winter, then I can turn the heating on without it all going to waste. For now, I make do with the fireplace,” when you sit, Diva runs to you both and demands to be swaddled in her blanket. It’s an old knitted one, a college project finished between essay assignments and readings. There’s sentimental value there, especially with your pup who doesn’t even let the presence of a strange man come between her and her cozying up.

“I can help with that,” John says. Briefly, Westley pops into your head shouting As you wish! and it makes you smile.

“That’s okay,” you sip, tasting spice. Would’ve been good with dinner. “I owe you double now for helping me again.”

“Not at all, sweetheart.” Oh, he’s full of names - and getting bolder. 

The conversation ebbs and flows naturally. Sometimes you both sit in silence, sipping, refilling glasses, staring at the fire. He’s easy to talk to, soothing, his confidence and sureness leaving you relaxed.

“I better get going,” he grunts as he stands, extending a palm to you.

“Are you okay to drive?” You’re half worried, half disappointed. There’s been a steadily building sense of heat between your legs the entire evening, brought on by his touches and his pet names and his taking care of you

“Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. I live close-by.” That’s one mystery solved.

“Well, okay. But will you call when you get home?” If you weren’t three glasses in, you might be embarrassed. John crinkles his eyes at you while he puts his boots on.

“John?” You’re in your pajamas, face hastily cleaned with a makeup wipe. Your door is double locked again, anxiety beaten down by the wine.

“I’m home,” he sounds distant. You can’t really hear anything, just his breathing, the sounds of him taking off his coat and his boots. “You tucked in bed, sweetheart?”

“I am,” you breathe, eyes slipping, drunker than you thought you were. “Did you drive okay?”

“I did,” he laughs. His keys jingle and make a clamor as he tosses them. You imagine him in a house that fits him, a log cabin or a house built by hand, before remembering he’s talking with someone. Disappointment dampens you a little.

“I guess I should let you get to bed then,” you try to keep it out of your voice, but you’re curled on your side with a hand pressed against your clothed pussy and it’s hard not to be sad at the fact that you have no idea if he’s actually been flirting with you, or just being friendly.

“You sound disappointed,” either he’s perceptive, or you’re more obvious than you’re trying to be. “Don’t worry, I won’t leave you without saying goodnight.”

A pulse, between your legs. You rub with all four fingers, moving the phone away from your mouth.

“That’s okay, I don’t want to keep you,” you scrunch your eyes shut, trying to stop, not being able to. You’re starved, really, haven’t been touched or talked to like you’re desirable in quite some time and he makes you feel safe. Taken care of.

“You touching that wet little cunt, sweetheart?” A shockwave, from your nipples tightening to your toes tingling, curling. You stop hiding, breathing whines into the phone.

“I’m so sorry,” you mumble, biting your lips. It feels like permission, and maybe it is or maybe it isn’t, but you stuff your hand into your pants and start focusing on your needy clit. “I’m so-”

“Shh, sh, sh,” you hear a mattress creak, a grunt, and imagine him laying back. Maybe palming his cock. “That’s okay, baby, I could tell how needy you were.”

Panting, you stuff two fingers in your soft hole, grinding your palm into your clit. You hear him making sounds, quieter than you, but you’re straining to hear them. He starts talking you through it, murmuring into your ear, calling you sweetheart and honey and baby, telling you to put three fingers in and to play with your tits.

“Go ahead and touch your nipples, sweetheart, go on,” his breath is growing laboured. “Needed to come so she could sleep, did she?”

For a moment, you think he’s talking about you.

“Poor little pussy needed some attention,” his voice gets rougher again, like when he walked in and saw that you had made him a roast. “Give it to her then, baby, go on, let her come.”

That’s all you need. You squeeze your nipples one last time, letting your tits out of your shirt and turning over to hump your hand unashamedly. Your clit drags against your palm still, hips desperately moving, listening to him grunting and groaning on the other side of the call, waiting to hear him come before you let go.

You shake, shiver, curl into yourself as your core tightens and explodes like an elastic band snapping. It’s great, just what you needed, and you’re half asleep by the end of it

“John..” you mumble into your pillow, just enough consciousness left to pull your hand out of your pajama pants.

“It’s alright, it’s time to sleep now, alright? Close your eyes.”

“Alright, John.”

“Good girl,” his voice is distant, sleep taking you, muscles more relaxed than they’ve been in so long.

You’ll deal with the rest in the morning.

[beneaththebirches]

Seafoam Green

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Female!Reader

Summary: Rafe and the reader meet at Midsummer and continue their most recent naughty shenanigans.

A/n: Just a reminder this is a repost from my original account @sublimecatgalaxy! Love you all!

Midsummer is the same every year.

Loud music, drunk adults, bored teenagers wandering around, stealing sips of parents drink when they're not looking, too enthralled in conversations of wealth and status with others.

The whole night is just a fun excuse to get dressed up and pretty, an excuse to make people look at you with wide, intrigued eyes- it's like the one night of the year where girls can be princesses without strange looks. Pretty but dainty diamond tiara's, flowing dresses, a sneak peak underneath for those you end up going home with.

My dress is green, his favorite color, a dash of silver and green on my eyelids, sparkling under the twinkling lights just enough to get the attention of who I want.

It's been all night and he's yet to notice me from across the room but I've noticed him; black suit, a pale green shirt underneath, his hair swooped to the side in a calculated way and it makes me feel drawn to him, like a moth to a flame.

When he notices me, he looks around- almost to see if anyone's watching- before he approaches me with a kind smile, eyes dipping down the front of my dress, giving me a once over as his cheeks blush an auburn red.

"You look stunning." He smiles, holding his hand out to me which I gladly take, slipping my hand into his as he leads me away from the bar and to the wooden floor where, mostly, the older people dance. He pulls me flush against him with a grin, hand slipping down my exposed back and I instinctually wrap my arms around his neck, securing myself to him.

"You look good too, Rafe." I soothe my hands down the front of his suit and he grins, hands gripping my waist as we wander slowly throughout the dance floor, skilled and untouched by the laughing couples around us. Like it's only us.

"We matched." He smiles, pinching the fabric of my dress as I give him a simple knowing nod, shoulders shrugging.

"I'm smarter than you think I am." He grins wickedly at the confident smirk that I give him and he bends me back over his arm, dipping me skillfully without wobbling in the slightest.

"You're more beautiful that you think you are." His eyes seem to be fixated on the ways that my lips spread out into a bashful smile, tongue sweeping out to wet my lips as I lift myself to his ear, whispering quietly so only he can hear me.

"I just thought you would like to know that I’m not wearing any underwear right now." His body turns to stone against mine, hands stalling momentarily from the sweet circles he was drawing into my skin with his thumbs and I feel a rush of confidence wash over me as I lower myself back down to my heels. "Do what you must with this information."

"Come with me." He says without another word, gripping my hand and dragging me past both of our parents and into the building. I can already see the bathroom in view and know what this means, nervous butterflies swarming in my stomach at the thought of feeling him. "I want you to bad." He mutters, shoving the door open with a bang and locking the door after giving the bathroom a once over as we finally find ourselves alone. "Sit down." He orders and my brows furrow, not sure why I would have to be sitting down for him to fu-

"What're you-" I start but he forces me down into the seat without looking up into my eyes, his whole body lowering in front of me so he can kneel on the ground between my thighs, hands already working on pushing up the fabric of my dress as it dawns on me what he wants. He's never done this for me before.

"Bend your legs, sweetheart." He pats my thighs gently and I do what he says, not in the mood to argue and give him any push back when he's look up at me like that, eyes full of excited lust as he whispers against the sensitive skin of my thighs. "Fuck, you're so beautiful."

[evilmenshoe80]

ADAM & MIKA

The meeting  

(WARNING: this is a guitarhero endgame fic with past adamsapple, don't like don't read, pretend I don't exist and that's it, thanks! ❤️)

It was a beautiful morning in the garden of eden. The birds were happily singing announcing a new morning, the breeze of the wind gently rocked the trees, generating a pleasant melody that filled the entire place, the warm rays of the sun filtered through the trees creating a beautiful yellow and orange collage in the skin of the first man, Adam.  

He slowly opened his eyes, taking a moment to fully awaken, before rising with a yawn. It had been a decent night, no nightmares after what he had feel like an eternity of waking up crying in the middle of the night, maybe his father took pity of him an removed his capacity to dream, that would be the best, something he would gladly accept, why dream? When the two beings that he loved the most abandoned him without a doubt.  

Lucifer, his best friend, his guardian angel, the one that guided him on his first years of existence, the only one that didn’t kneel when god presented him because in his own words “they were equals”, the angel that had made beautiful promises of a bright future for both of them.......the angel he hated and loved.  

And Lilith, his wife, the first woman, the other half that he didn’t knew he needed, the other fundamental piece of God's plan so that both could give birth to humanity, his equal as a human....his first love and the person he though it would be by his side forever. 

 

He remembered the day he saw the two for the first time. 

~~~~~~*~~~~~~ 

The earliest memory he has of his existence was waking up in a room full of light, with creatures similar to him, but not exactly like him, their shape was similar to his, but most of this beings were taller, easily covering him with their body, they had wings, their body was covered by a strange material, some had two eyes, others only one eye and some had many more than two and as a weird extra, they all had a weird looking golden shape above their heads, gently floating and following them everywhere they moved.  

But despite the strange look of these beings he didn’t feel scared or threatened in any way, he actually feel at peace, at ease, like he belonged there despite so many eyes looking at him, As he moved his gaze around, inspecting his surroundings, it landed on the figure next to him. A figure that left him speechless, this one has more similarities with him, but like with the other creatures it had some differences, the middle of her body was smaller, her hair was longer and with a lighter colour, similar to the light that shined in the place, her skin a different tone just like her eyes, which also were sharper than his, but with a similar light, she was beautiful, the woman looked at him with the same curiosity.  

Before he could try to form a word, an imponent yet gentle voice filled the room, silencing the whispers of the other creatures and making both humans turn around to face the origin of it. Their father, the creator of everything, god. Their voice was strong, with clear autorithy but at the same time, it was the most calming and beautiful sound adam remembers to ever hear, no singing of any other being or instrument could compare to the beauty that it was the melodic voice of the supreme being.  

“Adam, Lilith, my perfect creations” said the being of light “I welcome you to the world” 

“w-who are you?” said the first man, in a trembling voice that was more for lack of experience that for being afraid 

“i’m your creator, you can call me father”  

After some time of pure silence and of the first humans looking at each other, both with the same confused expression, lilith asked in a curious tone.  

“why...did you create us?”  

“I created you so you can start a new world togueter, new life, a new race, the human race, that’s your purpose”   

“purpose? What's that?” asked the first men  

“It’s what gives a reason to exist to every being that I create, and yours, it’s to create new life”  

“why?” asked both humans at the same time  

To this question, god stayed silent for a whole minute, which make the angels feel nervous and start whispering again, not because god didn’t knew the answer, they knew, but their father not wanting to answer right away had a meaning none of the humans could handle, at least not yet, so, god only answered: 

“because the universe cannot exist without it” said the creator, making the angels shut their bickering again.  

Both humans stayed silent and before either of them could ask another “why?” the father of everything pointed their stare at one of the angels in the room. A short figure with white skin, his cheeks adorned with blue dots that matched with his crystal blue eyes, golden hair that was decorated with a big blue hat with a golden ribbon, and a blue tunic that moved gently with the fluttering of his golden wings.  

“Lucifer”  

At the mention of his name, the angel spread his wings and approached the center of the room where God and the humans were standing.  

“Yes, father” the angel made a reverence  

God pointed their gaze at lilith and adam again “the name of this angel is Lucifer”  

Lucifer made a reverence to both humans 

“what’s an angel?” asked lilith  

“another of my creations, his purpose is to teach and protect you, guide you through the paths of life” he pointed his stare at every angel in the room “that’s the purpose of all of them”  

At this, all the angels started to kneel, understanding the weight of their creator words. Yes, all of them, except one. The angel that was at their side, lucifer. All the room was in a dense silence, the angels looking at each other and some at lucifer without daring to say anything. The humans stared at each other, like trying to get some answers, though both of them where in the same situation, neither knew why suddendly the atmosphere had become more than tense, suffocating.  

God seemed to be staring at lucifer, with an expression no one in the room could really read, everyone were expecting, waiting for god’s next words, their next reaction.  

“Lucifer” said the lord with a calm but firm tone 

“yes, father?” answered lucifer with a smile  

“Guide adam and lilith to eden” he looked at the humans “your duty is to name all the animals and plants in the garden, let your curiosity lead you to create new things” then he looked at the other archangels, lucifer’s siblings “accompany them, any question that adam and lilith have, you shall answer them”  

“yes, father” answered the archangels at the same time  

“I will visit you once you have properly settled”  

And like that, in the blink of an eye god dissapeared. After some seconds the other angels began to get up and stretch. Their whispering started again.   

“I hope everything goes well” 

“they look so fragile”  

“do you think they can make it?” 

“I can’t believe Lucifer didn’t kneel”  

“I know, his new position is getting over his head”    

Both adam and lilith looked at each other again, restless, hesitating to approach each other wanting to search some comfort at being the only “humans” in the whole place, life? Race? Purpose? What did all that really mean?. These creatures seemed to be have a higher understanding of things, why did they needed them?  

“adam, lilith”  

Both humans turned towards the soft but playful voice 

“I’m so happy you are finally here, we all have been waiting to finally meet you!” said lucifer with a smile “I’m sure that both of you have a lot of questions, but don’t worry” he pointed his hands towards his siblings “we’ll help you understand”  

One of the angels behind lucifer reached his hand towards him, patting his shoulder.  

“yes, michael?” said lucifer with a bright smile towards his brother  

“can we talk for a moment?” asked his twin with a conflicted expression 

“right now? But we have work to do! Lilith and Adam need-” 

“I can’t believe you didn’t show respect towards father’s creations” said gabriel “you know how much father loves them, how much effort he put in making them!”  

“geez, calm down gabe, I made a reverence and that was enough for father, he didn’t got angry or complained about my behaviour”  

“wow, a reverence, how respectful” said uriel with his arms crossed and an unamused expression 

Lucifer’s smile twitched at his brother sarcasm but before he could answer, michael interfered  

“Luci, I know you don’t mean bad or try to be disrespectful, but, try to follow the protocole next time, As high of your position is now and as much patiente father has, we have to remember our place and duties, ok?” said michael, with a sincere smile, full of brotherly love towards his twin  

At this lucifer stayed silent for a moment, like analizing his brother’s words “ok mike” then, his crystal blue eyes landed on the humans, who were standing very close to each other, and looking at the tense scene in front of them “I promise to behave” said the angel with a smile that made adam’s spine shiver. 

~~~~~~*~~~~~~  

Adam blinked rapidly and shaked his head, finally standing and making his way towards the lake to wash up, breaking free from that memory that hunted his mind constantly, he tried and tried to not think about it, it hurted, everytime that he remembered lilith’s curious stare, how she smiled at him, the way she holded his hand when they were walking towards the garden for the first time, how the feel of her soft skin made him shiver and feel heat on his cheeks, it hurted, remembering lucifer’s soft touch on his shoulder, his friendly chatting and mischievous smile that filled his heart with something he couldn’t understand at the moment, it hurted, it hurted, it hurted, IT HURTS, STOP! 

His mind was begging, PLEADING for rest, so many things happened before the angel and the woman decided to leave him behind, but it didn’t matter if they were good or bad memories, they all made him feel bad, feel things he couldn’t name or understand at all, and that only served to increase his anger.  

Adam arrived at his favorite spot in the lake, he let out a little sigh of relief at the feeling of the cool water on his feet, he looked at his reflection for a moment  

“Eve” adam said in a sad tone, as if someone just asked him about who he was thinking about 

The second woman, his second wife, his third love but not less special, his other half, the person that was created from his rib to fill the void in his heart, while the extraction didn’t hurt, her creation left a scar on his body that burned once he woke up from his sleep, a burn that he could still feel once in a while, he noticed that it was stronger when he missed her, which was constantly.  

Her eyes were the first thing he saw, they were the same as his, golden, with long reddish brown hair, her skin a little lighter than his but with the same golden freckels and shine, she was a little shorter but not too much, and her smile, that sweet and kind smile that he loved so much, that made him forget about the mess in his head, the feeling of solitude 

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you Eve” adam practically whimpered, feeling the hot tears running down his cheeks at the memory of eve being kicked out of eden, of her squirming and crying, trying to reach him, begging mercy from the angels, he had never see the angelic beings like that, it was the first time he felt an odd feeling towards them 

He had tried to reach her, but he was stopped, they couldn’t risk to lose him too, he tried to beg to sera, to the archangels, to every angel that was present at the moment but the decision was made, eve would be kicked out of eden for disobeying the only rule in the garden and try to tempt him to sin too, “luckily” for him the angels arrived before he could take a bite of the forbidden fruit, saving him from an unfortunate destiny. 

But the worst about all of it, as if the whole situation wasn’t terrible enough, is that she wasn’t alone in this, someone had tempted her, tricked her into disobeying god and ignoring her husband advice, the two beings that he had loved the most.... 

Adam couldn’t contain himself anymore and started crying, letting out whines of pain, letting out all the tears he didn’t though he had anymore, he already cried so much before, until his eyes hurted, until he felt like he didn’t had more tears to shed, but it seems like he was wrong.  

Why no one wanted to stay with him? Why no one choose him? Why it seemed like they didn’t cared as much about him like they said? would it be better if he took the apple from lucifer when he offered it? Would things have been different if he had the guts to bite the apple when eve offered it too? should he have fought harder to be with his wife? Was she doing ok? Where lucifer and lilith doing ok? Did they though about hi- 

The bombardment of questions in his mind suddenly stopped when he felt the soft touch of a large but delicate hand on his shoulder, soft and warm, he turned his head slowly until he found himself face to face with the owner of that hand.  

Seraphiel, or “sera” to shorten, the seraphim that was in charge of the order and correct progress in eden, it was needless to say that was not the situation right now, they had loss two humans and a powerful angel to sin, the plans for the progress of humanity had been put on hold until they could fix the current situation, the veteran angels were becoming more impatient and worried every day, and sera didn’t visit him as often as before, he was sure that she was angry with him, dissapointed, Adam was sure that they all would give up on him, that they would look for another way to give birth to the human race without him, since he was unable to keep his partners by his side. 

Adam was ready for bad news, for her to guide him to god and for his father to turn him to dust, to what he originally was, that would be merciful he though, that would stop his pain, his worries, every bad though in his mind, but no, for his surprise nothing like that happened, sera had that gentle and motherly smile she always gave to him, there was hope in her eyes, she didn’t say anything but something in her stare told him she has found the solution for all their problems.  

Without breaking her silence, she slowly moved, revealing a bright figure behind her. 

Adam was blinded for a second, before he laid his eyes on the person in front of him, it was a human, another man.....a very beautiful one.  

He was tall, taller than him, with a strong build and beauty marks in different parts of his body, his skin tone lighter than his with pink undertones, hair on his chest, arms and legs, he was wearing a short yellow chiton around his waist like him, his hair was long and blonde, some locks standing out from his shoulders, and his eyes, oh father, his eyes were sapphire blue, sharp and intense, locked on his golden ones, his pinkish plump lips curled in a charming smile that had adam practically hipnotized, he couldn’t stop looking, who...who was him? 

“adam, dear” said sera breaking her silence “this is your new husband, his name is Mika” 

“H-h-h-husband?”Adam stuttered 

Sera nooded and looked at mika “Mika, this is your husband, adam the firstman” 

Mika’s smile got wider before approaching adam and kneeling in front of him “hello adam, I’ve been told a lot about you, I hope we can get along, I’m really excited to spend time with you” 

Adam felt his body heat rise “I-I-I've been hope really excited to time with you”   

Mika gave adam an amused stare before letting out a giggle 

“sucessful introduction, excellent” the higher seraphim though to herself, now it was up to Michael. The warrior angel could do it, she was sure, after all, Michael never failed. 

~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~

(HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY!!! I FINALLY FINISHED THE FIRST EPISODE OF MY ADAM & MIKA (human!Michael) FIC!!! AAAAAGH I'M REALLY EXCITED! And omg, to the great writers of this fandom and any other, my respect for you is 100000 higher now, I erased so many parts of the history so many times, how do you do it?! 😭

And I'll be honest with you guys, this au at first was just an excuse to draw and write michael x adam smut hehe but know I really want to write something more meaningful for them, and I hope to do a good job, I'll do my best for my guitarhero fellows 🤝💕

also, I know what you may be thinking, "it's ridiculous how adam is so sad at the start of the story for his past lovers but sees Mika and suddendly he's happy and in love!" adam is shocked by his new mates beauty, that's all, Michael's new body was made specifically for adam to like it and feel attracted to, BUT believe me, I plan to develop their relationship more before we start talking about real love

thanks and good night!!! 😘)

@bluefrostyy I remember you wanted me to tell you when the story was out so, here it is 👍

[foreverlittlesoshi]

All Of Our Foolish Notions

noah sebastian x reader

content warnings: angst and cheating

word count - 1.7k

an ~ the beginning is heavily based off my personal life and something i've gone through recently so this was my way of letting go

The world felt like it was collapsing on you. A dream couldn’t have possibly led to this. no way. You couldn’t believe it. 

Maybe it was a little strange to go through someone’s phone over a dream but you couldn’t help it. The dream was too realistic and caused you to worry for a couple days before getting the bravery to check. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise because you had certain doubts about Sam and reading the messages just confirmed them.

I miss you, Kali

I miss you too, Sam.

How could he say that to her? Why would he say that to her? He always said she treated him so badly yet he’s putting in the effort to talk to her? Anger and betrayal ran hot through your veins but you couldn’t help but look further and sadly found more. Just what you wanted to see. An intimate video that was definitely not of you two and the date/timestamp was a couple months ago and just a day before your one year anniversary.

You quietly put his phone back down, carefully not to wake him up and just stared at him. It felt like a bigger slap in the face that he was sleeping so peacefully while you felt like your heart was being ripped apart. Choking back the sobs felt like pure hell but you didn’t want him to see you like this because it’s not like he would even care.

The energy to even stand up couldn’t process in your head so you crawled back to your side of the room and grabbed your phone, quietly crawling to the bathroom and locking the door. You only knew one person who could help you out in this situation and maybe it wasn’t the best to call another man but he was your best friend.

“Hey, are you okay? it’s 1 am.” His voice was too relaxing to hear though you felt bad because he sounded groggy.

“He’s been cheating on me. with his ex of all fuckin people, Noah.” Saying it felt like a bigger punch in the gut. 

“Hold on, what?” He said more clearly and wiping the tiredness from him.

“I-I had a dream the other night, i guess my subconscious trying to tell me something so i started to overthink but i didn’t ask because i didn’t want to start an argument and tonight i finally broke. I know i shouldn’t have but i went through his phone and saw-“ a painful sob left you, “he literally filmed them having sex just a day before our one year anniversary.” 

“I’m gonna fuckin kill -“ “No, please just help me get out of here. He’s not even awake. I just want to leave.” Begging him made you feel so small but you couldn’t help it. 

“I’ll be there soon.” 

“Thank you.”

-

When Noah arrived, it made you feel a little better though it still all felt like a big blur packing your things quickly, quietly and carefully to not wake up Sam. Maybe it was the power he had over you but you felt guilty, just leaving and not even leaving a message, note or anything. Just the key to his apartment on the coffee table and walking away from someone you spent a year of your life with. 

“This is stupid to ask but are you okay?” Noah asked as you tossed your bags into his car and you couldn’t help but chuckle weakly.

“I just feel really fuckin stupid. It doesn’t help this situation but i had already caught him in two lies about her before i found this out and i just made excuses for him. I thought the last time was the final straw but clearly not. The worst part is somehow i feel like i deserve this.” You confessed and could feel the anger rise again. 

“No, you fuckin don’t. Don’t ever say some stupid shit like that again. He’s an insecure stupid little prick who doesn’t even know that he just lost the best person ever.” Maybe he let his feelings out a bit but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t stand the fact that you genuinely believed you deserved to get cheated on and treated like garbage.

“Let’s just go back to yours before i go back in there and punch him.” Saying as you headed to the passenger side.

Even while having your heart broken, you let your anger get the best of you and Noah couldn’t stop his heart from beating faster. He always thought it was cute.

-

The amount of crying you did exhausted you to the point you didn’t even feel Noah carrying you to his bed and tucking you in.

“Don’t leave me.” you mumbled to him.

“Just wanted to make sure you’re comfortable first.” He tells you as he crawls into the bed, you automatically cling onto him and let out a sigh of calmness. 

“I love you so much and thank you.” He shouldn’t have taken it too seriously but he couldn’t help it. It was killing him that you were going through this pain but he didn’t want to make it worse by confessing to you and messing with your mind/feelings more. 

“If only you knew.” You swore you heard him say but decided to not say anything and just fall asleep.

-

Getting back on your feet again wasn’t the hard part of getting over your last relationship, the hard part was realizing your feelings for Noah. You didn’t want to admit it though because you don’t want to make him feel like a rebound or taking advantage of him. You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if he thought about himself that way.

Drinking wasn’t the right choice but you were so overwhelmed that you didn’t know what else to do and honestly, you didn’t mean to get too drunk either. You just wanted to stop thinking about everything so you could calm down though maybe going out with the whole group wasn’t helpful. 

“Are you ever going to confess to him?” Folio’s voice broke your thought process.

You didn’t want to answer him at first, instead downing another shot of tequila. 

“I’m just scared.”

He scoffed at your response, “Of what? It’s clear that he loves you.”

Noah’s words replayed in your head from that night, “If only you knew.” and the memory made the alcohol hit ten times harder. 

“I don’t want him to think of himself as a rebound. He’s too special to me. I love him but i don’t want to hurt him.” You could tell you were slurring your words but he still acknowledged what you were trying to say.

With the alcohol hitting hard, you couldn’t even tell if Folio said anything else. All you could think about was Noah and everything you two had been through. Seeing his hardships from a young age, letting him stay with you when you two were teenagers and your family treating him like their own, going to his local shows with his old band, the fallout, seeing him mature and grow while forming bad omens, his past flings, his breakdowns, his decision to cut his hair short after so many years and seeing bad omens blow up with just pretend and all the success they received. 

It hit you hard. You were in love with him. Maybe you always had been but just refused to accept it. You were there for him through everything and he was always there for you. Why didn’t he ever confess?  was the main question in your mind.

“Where is he?” you asked Folio.

“Outside with Jolly.” Once he told you, you tried to quickly stand up but stumbled. “Let me help you out.”

Folio helped you through the crowd, guiding you out the door and the cool air sobering you up just a tiny bit. 

“NOAH!” yelling his name immediately got his attention and he rushed over. 

“Are you okay? Did some-“ “She’s fine. Just drunk.” Folio warned him and Noah sighed with relief. You tried to hug him but you just fell into his chest bursting out into a giggling fit as he held onto you so you wouldn’t bust your ass on the ground. 

“I’ll take her home and I’ll text you guys later.” He said guiding you to his car, buckling you in and making sure you’re comfortable. The ride was quiet until you finally spoke up.

“Why haven’t you confessed to me yet?” 

He felt like his heart genuinely stopped for a moment. His throat dried up, his face became red and his stomach started hurting.

“I don’t want to have this conversation when you’re drunk.” his voice was stern which caused you to whine.

“I was just-“”I will not have this conversation when you’re drunk.” To be honest, he shocked you with how stern he was again and decided to drop it until you woke up the next morning.

-

The raging hungover headache woke you up though the blinding sun wasn’t helping it and trying to remember the night hurt your head more. 

“Here.” Noah said startling you while holding some ibuprofen and a glass of water. Quickly downing both and thanking him.

“Why didn’t you ever confess to me?” You ask him finally sober. Seeing him squirm from the question surprised you. Did Folio lie to you? 

“I was just scared of you rejecting me and leaving.” he confessed avoiding your eyes.

“Noah,” your heart was feeling like it was going to explode, “It may have taken me a lot longer than you to realize my feelings but i do love you and i always have.”

“Really?” His timid voice made your heart hurt. 

“Absolutely.” you reached for his hand, it felt so clammy yet still so soft and kissed his hand softly, “I love you Noah.”

“I’ve always loved you and i always will. I love you, more than you will ever know.” He felt relief after so many years of hiding this secret from you. “Can i kiss you?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, “Of course.”

Soft lips met yours, the kiss just felt right and like it was meant to be. You couldn’t help but feel bad for not realizing your feelings sooner than later and putting him through hell. 

When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours and cupped your cheeks as he asked, “Will you finally be mine?”

“Absolutely Noah.” 

title comes from Lucky Ones by LIGHTS

[maespri]

oh my i never really saw myself making a post like this, but i really wanna talk about morgana! more specifically… why i don’t really understand the hate he receives.

for starters, i know a lot of people dislike mona because he gets on ryuji’s case often. his squabbling with ryuji can get hurtful at times too, i know, but i feel like so many people conveniently leave out the fact that… ryuji returns fire? it’s not as though mona is constantly attacking poor ryuji who can’t defend himself; it’s a two-sided fight throughout most of the game. both of them are constantly fueling the fire. not to mention, it’s a fight that eventually ends. both individuals have great character development (i could talk about it for /ages/, but i digress) that ends with their fighting essentially ceasing entirely. they’re both dumb teenage boys, they both said dumb stuff to each other, and they both hurt each other, and all of that is recognized and left in the past.

the hatred toward mona in general is something i struggle to understand entirely. you hate this cat because he tells you to go to bed? the game would have told you to do that one way or another, because it’s a game. there have to be constraints, or you’d get terribly overpowered incredibly fast. i wholeheartedly agree that mona’s lacking in comparison to the other characters in many ways- but i’ve never hated him, and was surprised to see a lot of people did.

maybe i’m just weirdly empathetic toward fictional characters, but i really liked his storyline. mona’s been with the protagonist since day one, helping him out, staying with him, encouraging and supporting him in everything he does, navigating them through mementos and palaces and battles… and he’s never really appreciated for any of it. obviously, the other phantom thieves do the same and don’t require any extra praise, but morgana already has a complex stemming from the fact that he’s not human. inherently, he believes he’s not nearly as good as any of the others, and subsequently, that he isn’t good enough in general- and he’s so ashamed of that that he can’t even voice the concern to the protagonist pre-okumura’s palace. it made sense to me when he snapped and ran away; if you were constantly the black sheep of a group, unable to engage with anyone unless the guy you live with is always there as well, wouldn’t you yearn for autonomy too? (don’t even get me started on the haru parallels there; there’s a reason morgana snapped during the okumura arc.) if you felt expendable and there wasn’t ever an effort made to prove otherwise, purposeful or not, wouldn’t you also want to leave? to spare both yourself, and the people you’re leaving? i really liked his arc because it led to two realizations- that he was pivotal to the group, and it was fine if he ended up not being a human. (and honestly, he was pivotal to my group… who else would i use to heal everyone outside of battle…!)

anyway, his objectification of women was weird. didn’t like that. but this is a JRPG, and he’s not the only one who does strange things like that at times (why was ryuji looking at ann’s chest in the mona bus outside futaba’s palace man…). honestly, his flirting was also weird at times, but as long as it never got strangely sexual, i didn’t really mind? it’s not like it ever genuinely bothers ann either as far as i remember. it’s more just a stupid thing he does.

anyway… i dunno. i like the kitty. he’s silly, he kept me company, and he made my playthrough fun. life is so much more beautiful when you carry love in your heart rather than resentment

[sitp-recs]

Between the Power Lines by @tackytigerfic (M, 3k)

For Harry Potter, all roads eventually lead to Draco Malfoy. Or: this is not an AU! It's just Harry and Draco meeting by chance in an imported food shop in Connecticut and going on a road trip together. Featuring motels, cacti, Americana, and a hefty dose of pining.

In New Orleans, they got drunk on Bourbon Street, and Malfoy danced on his own (arms bare, laughing; Harry could have watched him all night) and later on, so late it was almost morning, they let themselves into the St Louis Cemetery—Malfoy unpicking the lock so sweetly—and walked around until the sky was pink-edged with the promise of another day’s heat. Then they sat on the steps of a crypt, watched over by sightless eyes of the statue of an angel. She looked exhausted rather than sad, Harry thought, and that made a lot of sense when he thought about his own longstanding, dull-edged grief.

It’s been ages (or 2 years) since I last wrote a rec for Tacky (I usually write for other readers, except when I’m reccing friends - then I write for them) and their birthday was the perfect excuse to put my reccing muscles back to work. I almost bailed out because I know this is one of T’s own faves and “what if I don’t do it justice?” but that tired angel banner has been sitting in my drafts for 3 long years and it deserves a proper rec!

Where to even begin? Anyone who knows Tacky is aware of their superb prose - rich and nuanced, compassionate, effortlessly funny, with a strong sense of place and a soft spot for suds scenes and filthy m-rated sex I mean devastating romance. Their writing breathes heart and personality, very much like Tacky themself. So knowing that this fic came out exactly as they intended it to should be enough to make you go read this right now, but in case you need further incentive, see below all the reasons why this oneshot is so special to me:

1. The *vibes*: if you thought that 3k is nowhere near enough to build the sexiest, most intriguing Americana atmosphere you’ve seen, think again. The aesthetics are impeccable here, decorating the beautiful and strange landscape - cacti and cheap motels included - into something peaceful and desolate, an overarching melancholy making it even more compelling. The dialogue is brilliant but the silences are just as loud and meaningful, with a quiet intimacy and a dreamlike quality that make you feel as if you're intruding a memory.

2. The romance: at this point everyone and their dog know that pining!Harry is Tacky's jam - they luxuriate in making us all suffer with him until the realization that Draco has been loving him back all along slaps us in the face. Harry is so stupid and desperate and wanton, I love it. And the way Tacky reinvents this delicious trope to make it work in new angsty ways blows my mind. Imo the slow burn is particularly effective here, a feat in any 3k story, because the narrative gives us so much character insight. We learn all the little things that make these two lonely boys tick as we watch their ever-changing perception of each other evolve from a tentative truce to reluctant confidants to a comfortable, easy love that comes naturally and earned. We often get those bits of information from imagery and emotions alone, no dialogue needed, and a road trip is the best way to explore those dynamics in a smooth, unhurried pace.

3. The journey: this is truly an immersive journey, not only physical as we keep jumping from one destination to the next, but also emotional, as we learn more about their vulnerabilities and desires the more they gravitate towards each other. This story shows that being far away from home can be both freeing and grounding, when you’re stuck with your hot enemy someone who knows about your darkest hour. It gives you the chance to heal and visualize a different future without forgetting your past or letting go of that which has shaped who you are. I love their chance encounter and how this poignant 30k love story is told in such impressive economy of words.

TL;DR: if you’re a short form fan and prone to melancholy like me believe me when I say it doesn’t get any better than this. The whole road trip shebang mixing grief, romance and nostalgia wrapped in Tacky’s lush writing is a gift to any reader and an elegant work of art. Enjoy!!!

[literary-illuminati]

2024 Book Review #47 – City of Last Chances by Adrian Tchaikovsky

This book was recommended to me by a few different people, and in any case I am generally a pretty big Tchaikovsky fan. So of course I’m only getting around to reading it now, however many months later. Having put it off so long for no good reason at all, I can say that the book is in fact very good. Not Tchaikovsky’s best work (that’s still Children of Time in a walk), but a good read and one that left me curious (if not exactly excited) about checking out the sequel.

The story takes place in Illmar, the eponymous City of Last Chances – scarred and oppressed, tyrannized by cursed dukes and conquering imperialists, built upon a dangerous and unreliable route to other worlds and forever attracting the sort of people with no better options available to them. While the book has any number of characters, it’s really the city itself that is the star of the story – a story of how the theft of an imperial magistrate’s ward before he makes an experimental voyage through the gateway in the woods leads to a whole series of byzantine intrigues and bloody misadventures, culminating in an abortive revolution against the Pallseen who occupy and rule them. Which in one sense is an absolutely massive spoiler and in another just feels like stating an inevitability that was obvious from the first chapter.

The book was apparently quite heavily marketed as harking back to the whole New Weird trend of a decade or two ago – marketing that is lived up to wholly and entirely. The whole book absolutely drips with Mieville and Vandermeer. The oblique worldbuilding, the mundane day-to-day life built around the opportunities and inconveniences of some intrusion of the sublime, the awkward intersection of ancient magic and industrial bureaucracy, and so on, and so forth. The Reproach in particular feels very Area X (or very Roadside Picnic, as you prefer), but in general the city feels like absolutely nothing so much as Bas-Lag with the weirdness dial turned down from an 11 to a 5 or 6.

It’s a real triumph of the book, I think, that the world genuinely feels vast and strange even beyond the points where it matters to the story - that all the little asides and the ways something affects a certain character feel like just small parts of something far grander and more uncanny than anyone can hope to understand. Maybe I’m just painfully tired of rpg-system worldbuilding, but it’s an effect I dearly love.

Much like Bas-Lag, Ilmar is very clearly a magical fantasy city going through a magical fantasy 19th century industrial revolution (instead of steam engines its demonic slave labor contracted and imported from the Kings Below). The meat of the book is playing into the whole tradition of the idealistic, virtuous but tragic liberal revolution – 1848 in Berlin or Vienna, the June Days and Commune in Paris, Warsaw a dozen different times, Les Mis. You know the type. Students singing patriotic old songs, workers rising up against class oppression, ‘revolutionaries’ who are mostly cowardly nobles pining after lost privileges and criminal syndicate putting on airs being caught flat-footed by events. You can probably tell the basic story in your sleep. But for such a venerable genre, this book's honestly probably the best rendition of ‘fantasy 1848’ I can recall. Something which won it my instant affection.

The other thing the book just overwhelming shares with the Mieville’s Bas-Lag books is a very keen sense of the necessity of revolution combined with an extreme cynicism towards anyone who might actually carry it out. The university students are sincere believers, and also naive sheep the narrative views with condescension (at best). The professional revolutionaries are all power-grabbing hypocrites who have wrapped themselves in the flag. The workers syndicates have a real sense of solidarity among themselves, and also none at all to the demon slaves that are used and broken powering the mills and factories. And so on. The overall thrust of the book is a tragedy not in the sense of railing against the inevitable, but in the sense that triumph and revolution were absolutely possible – indeed plausible – but for the flaws and frailities of the revolutionaries who might have accomplished it.

Not to say that it's misanthropic – the book is very humane towards the vast majority of its POVs. Of which there are enough for ‘vast majority’ to be a meaningful term. It was something like 130 pages in before any character got a second chapter through their eyes, a feat I had previously only seen in Malazan – and that’s not including the chorus chapters which just give a half-doze vignettes from across the city. But yes, most characters (even the ones who are really just viscerally repulsive) are shown through their own eyes as someone who is at least understandable, if not particularly sympathetic. The sheer size of the cast in a 500 page book mean that no one character or set gets that many chapters from their perspective (you could easily have written as long a book about roughly the same events with half or less of the cast), but some of the dynamics that are very lightly touched on are just incredibly compelling. Its enough to make you wish this was a series that would ever get any fanfiction written about it, really.

Given the way the book is so deeply concerned with oppression and violence on the basis of culture, class, and nation – imperial occupiers, native population, refugees and immigrants used and scapegoated by both – it is kind of fascinating that this is a world where misogyny and (possibly? Not very explored, the only example of a queer relationship we see is hardly going to be concerned by normative society) homophobia just flatly don’t exist. Which would be less interesting if it was unusual, really – the same could be said about very nearly every recent sci fi or fantasy book on the same lines I can recall. Interesting because it is very much not the case in Melville’s stuff – the cultural impact of Ancillary Justice continues to echo down the years, I guess. So yes the imperial police inspector will extort sex out of a brothel owner in exchange for not stringing up the entire workforce for peripheral involvement with the resistance, but also this is entirely gender-neutral. Something very modern about how oppression is imagined relative to the ‘90s or ‘00s (or just a different genre of self-consciously feminist novel a few book shelves to the left).

But yeah, great book, I am compelled. No idea where the sequel would be going, but will probably hunt it down sooner rather than later.

[fanfic-she-wrote]

Second Chances

One of the reasons Beetlejuice is determined to get married is because he needs true love’s kiss to return him back to the man he once was. Only Lydia doesn’t return his feelings…or so he thinks.

(Beetlejuice x Lydia Deetz)

(Contains spoilers for Beetlejuice Beetlejuice ⚠️ Do not read if you haven’t seen the movie! )

Chapter 1:

It was about mid November in the small town of Winter River, Connecticut. A slight dusting of white covered the lawn of a lonely house on top of the hill, the one known to locals as “the ghost house”. Which now belonged to Lydia Deetz, who decided to keep the house after Delia’s passing. Why? She really didn’t know. She had some fond memories there of course, like the time she spent with the Maintlands before they crossed over. But she also had some equally bad memories as well…

She took a deep breath and turned over in her bed, forcing her eyes shut trying to sleep, but she couldn’t. Not after what happened a little over a couple weeks ago when she saw him again. At first she was scared,but after a while it was like her and Betelgeuse seemed to just work together. She didn’t know why, but she actually found herself missing him. How strange, she thought.

She even felt a twinge of regret for sending him away after everything he did for her. If only he didn’t try to make her marry him…again. She didn’t want him or anybody for that matter. Then again if she didn’t, why would she be lying there thinking about him? She groaned feeing confused. If only she had someone to talk to. Astrid wouldn’t understand. She had nobody now. Not her father, not Delia, Rory, not even Betelgeuse…

——————————

Lydia wasn’t the only one feeling lonely. Betelgeuse was too as he sat there behind his desk listening to the sound of the shrunken heads endlessly typing away. Things had settled back down to how they were before, the same way they’ve been for over 30 years. To be honest, he was tired of it and just as he thought he would be free, he was sent back to the netherworld again. What was he going to do now? Just wait for Lydia to need him for something again? No, he was done with her. He helped her out twice and this is what he gets. Nope. Never again!

But then why was her picture still on his desk in a brand new frame?

—————————

Unable to rest, Lydia got up, put her black bathrobe on, and slowly opened the door, peering out into the hall as she went not wanting Astrid to see what she was doing.

Quietly she crept out into the hall and made her way towards the attic. Everything in the house was dead silent except for the thoughts racing through her mind as she slowly approached the stairs.

She just had to talk to him. Even though she was a little afraid to, she knew she had to see him again. At least thank him for what he did.

Lydia paused at the bottom step, looking up she saw the attic door was shut. She swore she would never go up there again and yet here she was. Just as she was about to take the first step she heard a voice call out from behind her, making her jump.

“Mom? What are you doing?” Astrid asked, half asleep.

“Nothing. Just…checking on things.” Lydia quickly replied, folding her arms, and taking a deep breath to calm herself.

“He’s gone, mom. You don’t have to worry anymore.” Her daughter assured her. Lydia sighed. That wasn’t exactly what she wanted to hear.

“What’s wrong?” The teen asked, noticing how unusual her mother was acting. Her mother was always unusual, but this was different.

“Nothings wrong, kiddo. I’m fine. Let’s just go back to bed.” Lydia said, pushing her daughter down the hall away from the attic.

“You can tell me.” Astrid insisted. Lydia shook her head.

“Astrid, it’s complicated.”

They came to a stop just outside Astrid’s bedroom door. “Is it about…Be—“ She quickly stopped herself, not wanting to say his name. “Him?” She asked.

Lydia sighed, becoming impatient. “Just go to bed. Don’t worry about it.”

“But-“

“Good night Astrid!” and with that Lydia shut the door to her daughter’s room officially ending the conversation.

Lydia took one last glance over towards the attic and went back to her room, losing her nerve. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea after all? Maybe he’s better off wherever he is without her.

“Oh Betelgeuse…” She sighed as she headed back to her room.

From the Netherworld, her voice carried down to his ears sounding like a faint whisper. “Fuck.” Betelgeuse swore to himself. Why did she have to say his name?

[landfilloftrash]

shoutout to my girl eno’s nightmare bc. Hi! What and/or Who the fuck was that ! its gonna haunt her and i for awhile !

[milo-is-rambling]

Who was gonna tell me that reading is fun sometimes

[ko-eko-ev-go-ms]

Brain is braining too much me thinks

[screampied]

‘ I JUST WANNA HEAR YOU (S)CREAMMM ! ’

ᡴꪫ sum. what’s your favorite scary movie? is it carrie? psycho? or maybe nightmare on elm street? perhaps picking up the phone was a bad idea, but you don’t scare easily! or do you?

wc. 6.0k

warnings. fem! reader, ghostface geto & ghostface nanami, college au, threesōmes, unprotected, brief phone sēx, roleplay, dirty talk, praise, overstim, implied multiple ōrgasms, spit, manhandling, brēeding, hair pulling, oral (f & m receiving), cowgirl dp.

an. from this ask!

“hello.”

“hello?”

“what’s your favorite scary movie?”

you deadpan, almost as if you’ve seen this movie before. it was around close to midnight. you were the only one sober at some random frat party you got dragged to. everyone besides you were probably wasted or shoving tongues into mouths. sitting up on a cushioned bed, you hold the landline up to your ear. “mean girls two. bye.”

“….girl what? that’s not a—”

you hang up, averting your eyes back towards the tv screen that displayed some cheesy soap opera. about precisely thirteen seconds pass before the landline screeches a loud deafening ring again.

sighing, you answer it. “stop calling this number. prank calls aren’t funny.”

“no.” the voice replies, and it’s very deep—you swear you’ve heard something like it before. a best way to describe it was that it had a gruff pitch to it, baritone running all underneath it. his voice was also a bit sly too. “i just wanna talk to you.”

“bother some other girl. bye.”

“don’t hang up on me.”

for whatever reason, you don’t hang up. his voice sounded a bit stern—you sit up before growing quiet. you’re fully alert now.

“good girl. now, i’ll ask again. what’s your favorite scary movie?”

pressing your back against the comforter, your thighs squeeze together. with another vexed sigh, you say the most random movie that comes immediately to mind. “halloween.”

“pft. basic.”

“wha— you’re the one who asked.”

“oh, doll i’m just joking. but anyway, you like slasher movies, yeah?”

for whatever reason, the more you talked to this total stranger, you start to feel a sudden uncanny stir delve around your stomach. you weren’t scared, yet at least, but it was oddly peculiar. his voice sounds a bit familiar the more you listen to it. with how teasing the caller on the other line appeared, it was strangely intriguing. you kind of didn’t wanna hang up anymore, besides this party you were at was quite … not the best.

“not really. i am a jamie lee curtis fan though, i only watched because i make fun of the deaths.” you mumble.

“hmmm,” the voice hums through the other end. it’s as if he’s pondering what his next choice of words will be to you. “so…you got a boyfriend?”

you were taken aback by how abrupt the change of subject was. the man on the other end laughs at your awkward silence before you finally speak.

“no, and it’s not like it’s any of your business.”

“easy, girl. i’m just curious. besides, what if i wanna ask ya out?”

you grow quiet again before rubbing your neck, you were growing a bit hot.

“whatever. no, i don’t have a … boyfriend.”

“ooh. you hesitated there.”

you grumble. “shut up. i’m hanging up.”

the man immediately replies with a chortle.

“wait, wait. heh, serious though. you never told me your name, doll face.”

with an eye roll, you utter, “why do you wanna know my name?”

“because i wanna know who i’m looking at.”

“what?”

“what?”

each word he spoke breaks through the phone due the deep mess of his voice. a few rough sparks from his dialogue punctures through the soundbox of the device. again, he did sound oddly familiar. you just couldn’t put your foot on it.

the man chuckles before responding in a more sly tone—changing the subject again.

“you know doll, you sound kind of out of breath. call me crazy, but before i called you, were you playing with yourself?”

your legs suddenly squeeze shut, you were wearing one of your borrowed hoodies and shorts underneath. any sane person would have hung up eons ago, but for whatever reason—you felt your heartbeat start to race. the more you listened to the deep voice on the other end, the more you started to grow more curious. what’s wrong with playing around for a little bit? besides, what’s the worst thing that could happen—you dying?

you scoff, thinking this was nothing more than a dumb prank call—you decided that playing along wouldn’t hurt. you had nothing else to do anyway.

“so what if i was playing with myself?”

“i bet you didn’t even make yourself finish, doll.”

his voice, the more it spoke in that rough pitched tone—you couldn’t help but press the landline up to your ear just a bit further. you furrow your curled up brows, lowering your guard a bit. probably foolish, maybe you’d regret this later, but alas, reality wasn’t on your mind at the moment.

“are you saying you can make me finish?” you mutter, growing amused now.

“oh i know i can. i can make you get off from just from my voice alone.”

he was toying with you, but it was too late to back down. you intake a honed breath before humming.

“okay, prove it then.”

he chuckles.

“mhm. take those panties off first. actually no, slide them to the side for me.”

you really felt like you were in a movie, shamelessly at this random guy’s beck and call. as the show played in the background, you press the middle part of your thumb against the volume button to turn it down four notches. the room was practically silent now, the only noises heard were from the blaring beat drops of edm music downstairs. sprawling your legs out, you creep a shaking hand between your thighs.

the voice grows quiet, you finally move your panties toward the side before slouching back against the pillow.

“you must be really bored. talking to a random girl at the m-midnight.” you exhale.

“heh, m-maybe,” he mocks your falter. “but i’m sure you’ll keep me entertained with that cute voice of yours.”

he was so smooth. smooth as if he was prepared for every word that flew out of your mouth. as your fingers glide against your now exposed entrance, you let off a shaky breath.

he was right, out of boredom you tried to play with yourself— yet, that didn’t work out because you could never make yourself finish. your attempt was basically useless. with a frowning pout, you reply. “now what?”

“finger yourself, silly. and i wanna hear, put the phone up against that pussy for me, doll.”

he was filthy.

you felt yourself start to throb before removing the landline from against your ear and placing it right against your doused entrance.

with heavy jagged breaths becoming more irregular, the person on the other line hears the wet sloshes of your cunt up against the phone. again, he grows quiet—it’s almost like you can make out his deep attractive breaths and it makes you pulse even more.

“bet you’re so nice ‘n soaked. sounds so sloppy.”

gnawing on the softness of your bottom lip, your thumb briefly skims past the nub of your clit and you whine. you were already a bit sensitive from before, starting to stroke your fingers against it. bringing the phone back up to your ear, you ease a single finger inside. it feels warm—you were slick, coating your own finger with a nice amount of your obscene arousal. it doesn’t take long for you to start to pant, slithering another finger inside of your cunt before moaning. it fits nicely, nice and snug.

“you sound so pretty. i want you to imagine those are my fingers, pretty girl. can ya do that?”

“y-yeah,” you start to stammer, feeling a sudden spongey texture inside of you—you gasp, not expecting to reach your sweetened g-spot so soon. it was a mere bumpy texture, gloopy gummy walls involuntarily accepting your two slender fingers with an open gesture. “fuck, ‘m still a bit sensitive.”

he guffaws lowly.

“yeah, i bet you are. poor baby can’t even make herself cum.”

you swallow, the playfulness in his voice making your thighs start to tremble a bit. with relaxed fingers stretching throughout your walls, you focus on your breathing. each pant that came out of your hot breaths seemed like it was gonna be your last. after a while, your toes start to curl up in pure pleasure—you moan, feeling a sudden rush of weightlessness nirvana overtake you.

“find your g-spot for me. tell me when you do.”

“i- i already found it,” you whine, a sheaf of nerves that store inside of your pussy pulsating at a rapid speed. your head throws itself back as you’re just moaning melodically. “fuck, why don’t you just come over ‘n finish for me already.”

the voice laughs again.

“yeah? you want me to come over instead? maybe i should use my tongue since your fingers are so useless, dollface.”

at this point, you didn’t really care. maybe making simple rational decisions today just wasn’t in your favor. the eerie voice, each second you spent listening to it the more aroused you became. maybe getting off to a pure stranger’s voice was embarrassing but you were feening. the air felt suddenly thick. so thick you could cut it with a knife. with your bottom lip being chewed on like gum, you briskly shiver. cold, wintry air wafts against your skin and you moan for the nth time. an unforeseen chill runs down your spine before you hold back yet another whine.

“f-fuck, just come ‘n finish for me. i can’t do it. please.”

he grows quiet for a solid good four seconds before replying in a cheeky tone.

“okay. turn around.”

your panting stops and instantly, you turn your head the other way—of course, no one was there. figures, the only things your eyes were met with was the wooden headboard. with a disappointed grimace, pulling your occupied fingers out of your cunt, you turn back around. as you’re about to speak into the phone again, you open your mouth before pausing.

there, you’re met face first with what appears to be some guy in an infamous ghostface costume. he was tall, staggering inches on him before you don’t see one but two. they both had the same getup, ghoulish ghost mask, a long black robe, and the same spectral, tilting head-stance.

one of them takes off a mask and it’s suguru geto, your roommate.

your eyes concisely widen. once he yanks off the mask, his silky well-kept black strands fly loose. no wonder the voice sounded a tad bit familiar. the other removes his mask and it was nanami, two of them—now you really felt like you were in a movie. “you always did say how much you liked scream,” and then you glance at nanami who had a sheepish expression. “don’t be shy now, someone’s gotta help ya finish.”

“o-oh,” you remember, sitting up against the bed. now you were embarrassed. just a few seconds ago, you were getting off to your roommate’s voice. suddenly, you felt even more hot. you did end up talking their ear off about your adoration for the beloved franchise, ranting about your cute little ghostface obsession.

truth be told though, you didn’t know they’d make it a sheer reality for you. the two of them get on the bed towards you before nanami brings a gloved hand to your chin. he strokes your chin softly, and geto moves underneath.

“sorry princess,” he whispers. “suguru wanted to scare you but i told him we should just show ourselves,” and as he’s speaking, you get lost in his soft, honeydew eyes. such gentle compared to geto who was a bit more—crazed. “he didn’t scare you too bad, did he?”

you moan once you feel geto run a thumb against your already exposed cunt. with a firm head shake, you huff. “no, n-not really.”

“aw what. i thought i was pretty scary,” and you whimper out once he blows against your folds. for a concise moment, geto stares up at you—dark eyes keeping a strong gaze on you. “tell us what you want, pretty girl. you want us to help you finish?”

you nod, feeling geto spread your legs apart further.

nanami, with a gloved hand purses your lips together, forming them into a tight squeeze before humming. “words, princess. use them, okay?”

the more you feel geto’s breath fan against your clit, teasing you—you were about to go feral. you stare up at nanami before letting off a sweet whine. “i- i want you both to help me finish,” you stutter out, stumbling over your pathetic words like you’d stumble with an untied shoe. “make me cum, please kento.”

he leans in to kiss your forehead and you hear geto scoff underneath. “i’m the one between your legs but whatever,” and you feel his soft lips kiss against your pussy. “kento, keep her distracted for me, will ya?”

“you’re so pretty,” he mutters, lightly lifting up your chin. as he wore black gloves—the fabric gently brushes against your lip, popping a thumb into your mouth. he doesn’t expect for you to happily take it in his mouth, sucking on it. “oh,” he breathes, a bit speechless. you stare into nanami’s eyes, swirling your tongue around his thumb in such an erotic way. lowly hooded eyes stare at him the entire time, you moan once you feel the flatness of geto’s tongue run against your sweet clitoral hood. his tongue—the texture of it was so cold, the moment he digs in he makes you know the pure definition of sloppy. all with his tongue, he slowly flicks it against your nub before delving his tongue deeper between your soddened folds. nanami pulls your chin to face him again before softly purring, “don’t look at him, look at me pretty girl.”

as your eyes focus back towards nanami, you could already feel your legs quavering. you felt hot, the lewd way geto drags his tongue against your pussy makes you gasp out three strained second puffs of air.

“k-kento,” you moan, pawing your hands at the low part of his robe. he watches, lowering his head at you before you reach there. nanami’s bulge, he has an abashed expression as he realizes what you were fondling at. “take it off.”

“ah, ask nicely,” he coos. your lips were now glossed with your own spit he smears against you as he pulls his gloved thumb out of your mouth. even though nanami was more tame than geto, his voice had a bit more dominance in it. he grabs your chin gently, cocking his head toward the side. “tell me what you want ‘n i’ll give it to you.”

your legs felt like they were standing on its last few hinges—geto’s tongue runs down your slit, taking a moment to depart his lips and spit on it, only to then lap it up again. a few annoyed grunts escape out of him partially due to his long strands of hair getting in the way. “so sweet,” he mutters, you whimper once he prods two fingers against your outer entrance. every few seconds he’d kiss near your thighs, leaving a few bite bite marks before focusing back towards your folds. “mhm.”

barely even able to keep focus, you gaze back up at nanami who’s standing near the edge of the bed—you’re laid back against the pillows with geto between your thighs. finally, a sweet mewl of words leave your glazed lips. “i- i wanna taste, ‘ken. wanna suck you off,” and he gives you a playful eyebrow raise, prying his pink lips open a few inches apart before you correct yourself. “pretty please.”

“better,” he murmurs, a hand of his reaching towards your head to give it a good pat. “good girl. go ahead, lift it up ‘n enjoy the meal.”

with a soft slackened sigh, you lift up the obsidian black robe. you’re met with ripped jeans, for some reason you just figured he’d already be sprung out for you. as geto’s still lapping up every drop of your taste, you unzip his fly before yanking down his pants. you were so impatient— and with geto’s demented pace, you were getting close. he chuckles, watching you struggle with the zipper for a bit before finally reaching near his boxers. they were a cerulean blueish color, his bulge was just appetizing. the entire shape of it, you felt yourself starting to drool the longer your eyes made direct contact against it. so rounded and full. with clammy hands, you tug them down before his thick cock springs out.

“it’s okay,” he whispers with a nod, watching you glance up him—a silent gesture as a way of asking if you could go further. nanami brings a hand towards the crown of your head, gingerly massaging his fingers through the crevices of your scalp. “you can be a little messy for me.”

a wretched whine that was raw rips from your throat once you feel geto’s tongue latch against your cunt. by now, he was sucking against your folds. the squelches were so sloppy, a hand of yours grab onto his hair for leverage and he shoots you a sly smile.

“don’t be shy girl, yank on it.”

dark pooled irises linger into yours for a long time before you get a good grip of geto’s hair, dragging him closer towards your entrance. over and over and over.

he giggles, hot breath ghosting against your folds and you throb even more. with dilated irises staring back towards nanami, you wrap your free hand around his length—he was so thick, such full balls that you just wanted to run your tongue all across it. he had a few veins skim down his beige, weighty cock. you could make out a few drops of lustrous pre-cum that decorates near his very tip. “u-ugh,” he shakes, the warmth that your tongue provides has him smothering his lips together. nanami watches, you’re slow but deadly.

pursing your lips together, you gradually start to sink him into your mouth.

geto’s still between your thighs, shoving two fingers in and out of you now—he surrounds your clit with his mouth, the suction he creates with just his lips was brutal. you’re moaning, even whilst your noises were pretty much muffled due to nanami’s fat cock. “easy,” he whispers, tapping a thumb against your cheek. “no teeth, okay? you’re doing s-so good.”

nanami groans, goading the same thumb against your cheek before you inch yourself further and further down. he has a shy smile at the way your hair forms in musses due to his tight grip. within no time, your throat’s already stuffed and few droplets of your own saliva trickles down the sides of your mouth. geto’s still making sure to thrust his gloved digits in and out of your soaked cunt and you don’t know which roommate to focus on.

“m-mphm,” was all you could manage out, your legs in a swift spread-eagle position. as you’re outstretched, you feel yourself about to cum. you’d recognize that feeling anywhere—the feeling when a swelling pool of heat residing inside your stomach tickles throughout your entire abdomen. that same feeling of nirvana courses through your veins as you’re now leisurely bobbing your head. every time you pull on geto’s long hair, he grunts—spanking your clit in response and that only causes you to whine for more. nanami strokes your face as he starts to feel his dick prod against the roof of your mouth. for a split second as you’re breathing through each nostril—you gag, long lashes fluttering in sync together.

your legs couldn’t hold still, geto’s continuously pushing you towards your limit before you whimper out. your tongue lathers over the splotches of pre-cum that paints nanami’s tip a pretty shade of snowy white.

he just couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, especially not with a face like that.

low eyes, sheepish smile, furrowed eyebrows. you’re convulsing profusely all in geto’s mouth, the sides of your thighs occasionally hitting against his face and he titters. “such a sloppy m-mouth,” nanami inhales deeply, and he starts to gently drag your head against his cock. he’s got your mouth filled with so many inches—your cheeks were all puffed up from his immense length, sheeny slobber emanating all down the sides of your mouth before he pants. “gonna make such a mess ‘n your mouth, princess. ‘s that what you want?”

you nod, feeling the vein that runs down his girthy cock twitch in your mouth. you moan, he’s feeling weightless—you’ve got his knees trembling, a hand’s still attached to your head like velcro before gyrating your tongue all over the crownhead of his shaft. “such a pretty face,” he gruffs lowly, swiftly pulling your hair side to side to take every inch. “s-shame i gotta ruin it a little.”

even nanami’s dirty talk was tame— it was cute to witness, the way his blond brows would tug into a furrow. he’s so pent up, and out of nowhere—you feel a sudden rush erupt within your cunt. before you could even react, you end up cumming hard. it shoots out of you like a rough wave, it’s such pure bliss that it takes you a few seconds to realize. geto’s making out with your pussy, slowly sliding his two protected fingers in and out of your sopping wet entrance and you shudder. “what a fuckin’ mess,” he hums, taking sight at how saturated you were. as geto laps his tongue against your folds once more, he stares back up at you and nanami. “aw. look at you two,” and he leans down to kiss your forehead. “slobbin’ everywhere, messy girl you are.”

your eyes go back up towards nanami, he’s sweating.

he felt as if the fabric of his robe stuck against his skin. while he’s holding it up with one hand, you sneak a stare at his abs, perfect washboard abs that looked quintessentially sculpted against his body. “g-gonna cum,” and he stares at geto, growing a bit flustered once all attention’s on him. “suguru, don’t just stand there. p…praise her.”

geto scoffs, kneeling beside you on the bed before moving a few strands from your face. “so bossy,” he grits before giving you your second head pat. he leans up close to your ear, grabbing the voice changer again and brings it up to his lips. “c’mon, doll. make ‘ken cum, yeah. doin’ so good for us. you’re gonna make him whine for you, heh.”

nanami’s legs felt like mush, he throws his head back, his long black robe syncing with his movements before he’s gently pulling your head against his thick cock. he shudders, welts of twinges close in on the undersides of his thighs before he finally finishes. it builds up gradually before you find him pouring into your mouth with a nice amount of parching hot cum. it’s hot, a good mass of satiny ropes coat the flat middle part of your tongue and you moan. “f-fuuuck,” he heaves through heavy lungs, it’s still trickling, you savor the taste. it’s bitterly sweet. he pulls out of your mouth before letting off a tremulous sigh. “good girl, f-fuck.”

“aw. don’t hog her, give me attention too,” geto sneers, softly grabbing you by the neck, making you face him. with his right hand, he squeezes your lips together with a rigid grip. “ah, don’t swallow yet. c’mere.”

with half-lidded eyes, you do—leaning into his touch before geto plants his warm lips onto yours. you’re caught by surprise for the umpteenth time today, prying your mouth open for him and he lolls his tongue down your throat. you let off a whine, feeling his gloved hands rub against every inch of your body. immediately, he tastes the candied flavor of nanami’s cum and it makes him groan. he didn’t even bat an eye—you return the kiss, feeling geto’s hand slither further down towards your ass. he caresses it, giving it a mean spank to make you moan out in ecstasy.

after a while, he pulls away, humming at nanami. “ken ken, don’t be so shy. you want a taste too?”

“yeah,” he mutters, needy eyes staring at your lips that were lubricated with your own sheeny spit. “can i?”

you nod, and he’s so gentle with you. a hand nimbly wraps around your throat before he brings you into a deeper kiss. geto’s still for his hands on you, strumming his fingers near your pulled to the side panties. you let off a soft pant, feeling the spiral of nanami’s tongue go against yours. he tastes sweet — savory even, his flavor was purely mouthwatering. a thumb drags down the passageway of your throat before he pulls away. it’s slow, a polished concoction of saliva departs from each mouth and you whimper. you were throbbing, desperate for more and they both knew that. if this— whatever this was was some sort of movie, you never wanted it to end. you never wanted the credits to roll because you felt like you were floating on cloud nine.

with the two of them, you were stretched in every way possible. if you could compare who was bigger, actually you couldn’t. throughout multiple positions, you felt as if you were gonna snap in half. they had you so stupid. pink tongue rolled out, full lungs of oxygen departing out such hot breaths of air, you were the definition of stupid.

cockdrunk at its finest. each orgasm that got ruthlessly snatched out of you had your head spinning, heart racing entirely.

you felt like something was creeping up behind your shoulder, chills. whenever you’d coax out yet another teeth-shattering orgasm, all you felt was stone cold chills. time after time, it felt like pure bliss—you thought you were in a whole new world, barely even able to move your thighs an inch. being sandwiched between the two of them, perhaps you were a little greedy but you just couldn’t get enough. geto’s degrading you whilst nanami’s whispering sweet pleasures into your ear, you’ve never felt more soaked.

you didn’t wanna stop—

currently, you’re straddling nanami. he’s got two rough hands gripping your waist, intaking every inch of your pretty physique. his stare sends you butterflies, his shaft was underneath you and only then pulls out. with a cute, “phew,” he swipes a sheet of sweat that expands across his forehead. you rode him so good that he couldn’t even figure out what to say. he was so flustered, tips of his ears a reddish hot before he watches geto creep behind you. “think she wants more, suguru.”

“bet she does,” he whispers, bringing a few sweet kisses near the inner corners of your neck.

you’re promptly sat up straight. the brief sounds of booming speakers roar from downstairs as you wrap your arms around nanami. geto licks near your collarbone before purring seductively. “say, doll. how ‘bout you try to take us both? would ya like that?” and with a gloved hand he gives your ass a squeeze. “wanna be the final girl ‘n prove your worth? our final girl?”

without an inkling of hesitation—you nod, mewling out a sweet, “yes, yes jus’ hurry up, sugu. ‘m still c…close.”

“so wet, so impatient,” he whispers once more, and with two hands he makes you sit up from nanami. you gulp—swallowing whatever sanity you had left, preparing to be quite literally double stuffed with your roommates. you aren’t so sure why, but the fact that they both still had on their ghoulish costumes made you pulsate a bit more. geto’s helping you slide back down onto nanami’s length before slowly making his way into you also. “god, you’re so hot in here. gonna fuckin’ swallow me whole.”

you moan, everything goes so slow—your cunt was a ticking time bomb. you clamp down on each before slumping into nanami’s chest. you’re met with kind eyes, he strokes your forehead before kissing the bridge of your nose, panting in a hushed voice. “eyes on me, princess. just relax.”

you wriggle a bit at the positioning—being on nanami’s lap, geto directly behind you, you’re quite literally being filled in every orifice by thick inches of cock. nanami’s words were soothing, filling up your tummy with a pool of fluttering butterflies. you keep your eyes on him, clenching down on geto a bit before you hear him hiss in response. “ugh. doll open up for me a little m-more, yeah.”

his voice was deepened heavily—you let off a cute gasp once they’re both finally in and a few shaky breaths exit past your lips. “hold my hand, i got you,” nanami coos, and that’s when geto starts to rock. he had more control between the two of you, the grip on your hips was firm and you let off a sweet babble. each individual entrance was stuffed, you swallow the invisible lump in your throat as you start to feel the sweltering friction of your thighs slap against nanami. “you’re so pretty like this,” and he kisses the temple of your cheek.

every kiss presented from nanami makes your heart race—being sandwiched between nanami and geto, you really did feel like the main character.

your lip tremors, grinding back and forth between each of them, you feel geto wrap his thick fingers around your neck.

whilst you’re still straddling nanami—you moan again and again, feeling a free hand of geto’s spank your ass. the stretch that you continuously felt had your mouth watering. you heard the harmonic pap pap pap’s until it rang throughout your ears. “fuck, ya like being stuffed don’t you, pretty girl? feel full enough?” geto rasps, pressing his body right up against you. you felt his hot temperature go against your skin. making you feel every amount of his heat. your brain’s swelling up with fog. giving him an inert nod, you hear him click his tongue. “didn’t say to nod your head, doll. i wanna hear that sweet voice.”

whenever geto lowers his voice a bit, you feel the abrupt tension arise between your legs. leaning against nanami, you whine out a, “hngh y-yesss, ‘m so full, sugu. want more, stuff me more.”

“let me stuff your mouth too then.”

and before you could come up with a reply, geto removes his glove—shoving your mouth with two fat digits. he grunts, watching as you’re so compliant with your throat being filled with his fingers. nanami stares at the entire scene in front of him, his dick idly twitching inside of you. your tongue runs down his fingers before your own spit starts to seep down the corners of your lips. it was messy—you were messy. your hips jitter and judder and you knew with having both holes stuffed you weren’t gonna last that much longer. it was probably the dozenth orgasm your pussy’s been introduced with and you could feel the creeping pleasure brew up inside your abdomen.

“suguru, ‘m gonna cum.” nanami groans, bringing his own hands to wrap around your waist. you lessen your tense from his touch before gagging a bit from the prodding of geto’s fingers way back into your throat. “she’s s-squeezing me so good.”

geto snickers, making eye contact with nanami. “are you? ‘ken, you’re more whinier than usual today.”

“shut up.” he grumbles, slapping a hand over his face in embarrassment — nanami wasn’t so known to be all flustered and abashed, but whenever he was, it was so cute.

you’ve still got a mouthful of geto’s fingers before he pulls them out only to shove them into his own mouth. he hums, sharp hips snapping into you repeatedly as his other free hand tightens its secured grasp around your hip. “mhm,” he groans, feeling himself reaching his peak also. “you taste like a final girl. so sweet like candy.”

with the piston of geto’s vigorous hips, you’re so loose that you feel the fleeting sensation of your cunt gaping.

its cavernous, you jerk forward against nanami before seconds later — geto groans, abruptly finishing two seconds early. even his moans were pretty, he tugs his fingers out of your mouth to wrap them around your neck. strands of black hair glue to his forehead and he puffs out a single breath. licking a stripe near your neck, he feels thick volumes of his cum ooze into your hole. it’s so sticky, you bring your hips to a slowing halt before nanami shoots inside you too.

“f-fuck, sugu,” nanami grunts, feeling his thighs stick underneath you. he was panting heavily, each breath that ran from his lips sounding more and more wearied. “damn, so m-much.”

everything spurts into you at once. they mirror each other inside of you perfectly. callused stubby fingertips of geto’s squeeze your neck softly, watching as you’re just being filled with bulky strings of cum, it floods your cunt until it drizzles further into your womb. you’re drooling, it feels so hot, sweltering hot. it sticks against your entrance before your arms wrap around nanami. “so f-full,” you whimper, and he returns the gesture by brushing his thumb against your waist. droopy eyes hang low before nanami pulls you into another deep kiss. you decided—this was far better than some dumb party. the cottony fabric of the ghostface robe pricks against your skin as you lean into his heinous touch.

you shift your weight against nanami’s lap, feeling geto pull out before he leans down between your legs. “spread your legs,” he mutters, and in the midst of your tongue roaming down nanami’s throat, you part your thighs—gasping once you feel geto’s own tongue lap against the freshly created mess. he makes little tiny licks, tasting the ropes of crisp cum that’s sloppily easing out of every entrance—you pulsate before he chortles, warm breath ventilating against your sobbing pussy. “so messy. don’t want any spillin’ out. gotta push it back in.”

you’re moaning, after a while you break away from nanami’s lips before he strokes your cheek lovingly, a cute drowsy look before he huffs, “did you hear me, pretty?” and he gently pokes your cheek. “you always do this..”

confusion hits you before your eyes suddenly open—you jolt up, both of your roommates beside you, gawking at you with a look of deadpan. you’re leaning against geto, the third movie of scream playing in the background—it was near the ending where the killer was being revealed. you sit up, staring down at your legs and you were fully clothed—there was no geto eating between your legs, no being stuffed with nanami, nothing.

“hellooo, earth to roomie,” geto waves his hand in your face, you stare at him before furrowing your brows. “you okay? you fell asleep on me again. what’s got ya so spooked? looks like ya seen a ghost.”

so it was a dream?

a mere glimpse of your lewd imagination—?

you have a sudden sheepish look, running your fingers near the nape of your neck. “huh. oh, i’m fine. i thought the movie would be over by now.”

nanami rubs your back. “we still have like twenty minutes left,” and then he looks at you with a concerned look. so gentle—so tender. “are you sure you’re okay? we can watch a rom-com if you want.”

“i’m okay,” you insist, slumping your head back against geto.

that was weird, out of all the dreams you’ve had throughout your life—none of them ever felt as surreal as that one. for some reason, you were still aroused though. you were a bit out of breath and felt chills run all over your body.

abruptly, your phone rings,

“sugu, can you pass me my phone?” you sigh, trying to relax. you were pretty bummed you weren’t at that party getting stuffed with your two roommates but instead—in your generic dorm watching a scary movie.

he hands you the phone, grabbing the remote to turn it down a few notches.

once you take it, succinctly, your eyes scan across the screen—it reads that it’s from an unknown number. not really thinking much, you decide to answer, swiping the green button to answer. “um, hello?”

“hello.”

“hi,” you rub your eyes. “can i help y-”

“what’s your favorite scary movie?”

rolling your eyes, you peer at your two roommates beside you, nudging them and peeling the phone away from your ear for a moment. “very funny, suguru.”

geto gives you a look of confusion and nanami mimics the same. he shrugs, averting his eyes back toward the movie. “very funny what.”

and suddenly you’re laid back, an unbelieving expression was expressed on your face as you were left with a weird feeling. if it wasn’t them then who—

that same chill eerily creeps up your spine before you put the phone back near your ear. it’s that same low voice you heard from before, each word it speaks pitches deeper before you grow quiet at its final haunting response,

“oh baby, i’m not suguru or nanami..”

[exopelagic]

dr who is a strange show

[murphyslawyer]

Finally found the courage to watch Six Feet Under’s final episode and boy am I crying. It’s that good.