#me: (looks at violent character) but what if they were soft

[aka-indulgence]

Made another Bob Velseb drabble… thing. Idk why I was suddenly inspired, I just was > < It’s a lil thing where he comes to take care of you a little while you’re sick in the winter, while it’s snowing, late at night /w\ hehe

——

It’s snowing pretty hard out, and your bed is placed next to the windows. You’ve drawn the curtains, as if it was going to protect you from the chill outside. Huddled in your blankets, trying your best to force yourself to sleep, through the headache.

It’s pretty damn hard to do.

…

Especially when you hear some hard knocks on your apartment door. In this late night.

“Mmnerghhh,” you grumble, giving the doorway an irritated look. You are not getting up from your bed. Who was it anyway?

You tried not to let your mind run wild at whatever spooky monster had crawled its way to your door, from all the rumors you’ve heard around the town. Especially when an acquaintance you had couldn’t resist introducing you to the scariest ones when they found out you were a newcomer.

Thanks, Luna. You thought sarcastically to yourself, Real helpful for the newcomer who lives alone.

It’s probably nothing anyway. Though you struggle with a proper explanation, since.. you didn’t really know your neighbors.

Tried to ignore it.

… The knocks were back.

Fuuuck.

“Who??” You try your best to keep the irritation out of your voice, and physically cringe at how raspy your throat sounds. “Is it???”

Silence hangs for a moment. You’re about to start cursing, you didn’t have TIME for this, when a voice answers.

A familiar one.

“.... ‘s Bob.” His baritone voice answers.

It startles you to alertness, eyes opening wide, looking at the doorway. It’s a good thing you didn’t curse immediately, you would be very panicked right about now.

“O-oh, c… comingng!” You say, the ‘ng’ sounding stuffy. You had the problem of getting out of your bed… the heater was warm, sure, but it felt as if anything was cold when you were sick. Especially in winter… while it’s snowing…

You decided to try to walk barefooted towards the door, stepping over the carpet threshold onto the tiled floor.

Bad idea- you made a very unattractive yelp when your delicate foot touched the icy cold floor (probably not that cold if you weren’t sick, you note). You mumbled incoherently, putting your feet in your fluffy slippers and shuffling towards the door.

You have little brain-power, some of it going to the thoughts of What if he’s confronting me about giving him late notice on your absence? Maybe this is why he worked alone-

You don’t hesitate to open the door, however. You blink confusedly, looking at a wall of red before you remember right. Have to look up to look at his face, before doing just that. Bob is… looming over you a little bit, eyes narrowing as he looks at you. Puffy eyes, stuffy nose, blanket wrapped around you, making you look like a cloaked grandma.

The question that comes after a moment of silence surprises you with how warm with concern it was. “Are you ok?”

“Yes I am, don’t worry about me, just… cold.” You explain easily, “... I mean I’m cold, but I also have a cold… but it’s fine, I’ll… I’ll try to come to work tomorrow.”

… You shivered.

He looks unimpressed. Although… you aren’t sure how you’d read his expression, right now.

“... Let me in.”

It comes as an order, rather than a request.

You… you weren’t prepared for that, and all too quickly the word “Yes,” tumbles out of your mouth.

Bob opens the door wider. And maybe, if you had the clarity of mind, you’d start to feel pretty awkward, having invited your boss into your modest apartment while you were poorly, but. You didn’t have that right now, and simply hobbled back closer to the warmth of your heater, in your bedroom. Your boss(/friend????) walked in after you, his footsteps heavy.

“I’m sorry… ‘bout the late… message,” you muttered, “I don’t think it’d be good to work like this, and I didn’t have energy to talk it with you this morning and just passed out…”

Bob is silent as you try to explain yourself.

“.... Are you firing me?” You turned to look at him as you stand in the bedroom, your brain too headachey to think about how odd it was that you had this big man in your bedroom… not that you don’t trust him. Just, odd.

You don’t see the weird face he makes.

“No. You’re sick.”

Hm… why does he look so angry then? … no that’s a look of concern.

“I’m… mean not tuh be rude…” you say, as you feel your legs aching, sitting back on the bed. “Why’re you here, Bob?”

“To check on you,” he explains simply.

“Awh… that’s very nice of you,” you say, unintentionally interrupting something that he looked like he was about to say. “It’s not that bad, just-”

Itchy.

Ah.. ah…

“ACHOO!” you sneezed, quite violently in fact, that your whole body shaked and snot was dribbling down your nose. Wonderfull, (Y/n), you looked great in front of your boss. Curse this window right now… you could feel the chill when you bring your hand to it. You ungraciously feel around for the box of tissues beside your bed, and furiously wipe away your snot. The trash bin you’ve moved closer to your bed was almost full.

You look at Bob… then start shrinking into your blanket. You must look like garbage right now- not a look you wanted him to see.

“... Sorry.”

The man only shakes his head, asking “Have you eaten?”

“Mm… sure…” You nod your head at the yet-to-be-cleaned table just beside of him. Microwaved, ready to serve food, that.. didn’t taste very good. You needed something warm, something that tasted good even if your taste buds decided to take sick-leave.

It was not that.

“... Darlin’,” your brain doesn’t even process the nickname, “No.”

He looks at you disapprovingly. As if on cue, your stomach starts grumbling, and you shift uncomfortably in your bed.

“Was a good idea I came here, then…” He puts his hand in his coat pocket (he hadn’t taken it off)... producing a tupperware.

You sit up straighter.

“What’zat?”

“Stew.” He answers simply, then smiling secretively, adds “Beef stew.”

He smiles wider (but not eerily so!) when he sees how your eyes start to regain it’s sparkle, looking at it. Maybe you even start to drool when he opens it up, and the delicious scent starts wafting in the air.

“Whoa…” You wipe your mouth with sleeve. If he noticed it, he doesn’t mention it. “That smells heavenly… … did, did you make this for me?”

Bob chuckles, that warm chuckle that made you feel… something, when he did. “Yeah. Can’t have my only waitress sick… need her back as soon as possible, hm?”

Your cheeks warmed, at the idea of mm, stew, and that Bob was being such a sweetheart. You thank him, as you take the stew into your hands (wonderfully warm… wonderfully fragrant…), dipping the spoon he’d so kindly offered you to taste.

“Fuck… this is so good!” you moan a little at the taste, “Burger isn’t the only thing you’re good at, huh?”

“It’s… anything with meat, really,” his eyes cast to the side, eyes giddy about… something. He takes off his coat, revealing more of his signature red sweater, putting it on a clothes hanger, and… you notice, as you slurp your soup, the snow starting to melt off it. You open your mouth to mention it, the winds howling out the window, but it’s Bob that talks first.

“I can make other stuff too, if you’d like…”

“Oh, would I!”

—————

Bob was happy to see the color flooding your cheeks again, (he always enjoyed watching blood rushing…) and you looked less miserable while he talked with you. You shivered less, too. Eventually you went quiet, and it took a while before he noticed that you’d fallen asleep, head on your pillow.

Eyes softening, he pulled a blanket over you. By the stars, he thought you looked cute. Your cheeks were slightly pink, even if your nose was redder. You were snoring very quietly that it sounded cute. He chuckles to himself, pulling the blanket up over you, tucking you in.

He wouldn’t have pegged himself for a guy who liked… soft things. Sure he… liked soft meat, but he also found out he liked soft bodies. Soft, warm bodies. Body.

This one.

He lets his hand reach for your cheek, running the back of his finger up and down your cheek. Such delicate skin… so warm. Perhaps that was a slight fever, but it felt nice to touch in the chill.

It’d be laughably easy to break it. … but he doesn’t let his claws scratch you up. And he doesn’t even think about the knives he has on his belt.

Never this one. He thinks to himself. This one’s mine.

He stands up, wondering to himself if he could just… settle into your bed and wrap himself around you, but thinks better of it. Let her rest. He should probably leave now.

… But.

The snow wasn’t letting up soon.

And his house was a bit far away.

And the chair looks mighty comfy, right about now.

He could leave, but then your door would be unlocked and the thoughts of someone else bad that could walk in here puts a bad taste on his tongue, like bad meat. And he definitely isn’t willing to wake up the sleeping little thing in front of him…

So to the chair he goes. It creaks under his weight, grunting as he settles into it. He closes his eyes for a moment, before opening one, to look at you again.

… Yeah. This was much nicer than having to go home alone, where there wasn’t any adorable little things to look at.

[slyandthefamilybook]

look dawg, the destruction of Magnus Hirschfeld's Institute was an important moment in the Holocaust, but I feel like ever since goyische tumblr learned about it it's literally all they talk about. People have just instantly latched onto it because it's something that makes them feel connected. "Those famous pictures of Nazi book burnings are them burning gay and trans research" comes off as less of recontextualizing history and more of "omg that's me! I'm famous!". The fact that it's brought up in every conversation about the Holocaust now, even when the discussion is about the specific persecution of other groups, is highly suspect. When Jews talk about the Holocaust, we don't view the victims as people like us. They are us. They're our parents and grandparents, our great- uncles and aunts. In every generation we must see ourselves as if we left Egypt

JKR is engaging in Holocaust denial, but it's a soft sort of denial. Someone told her the Nazis hated trans people, and she responded "nuh-uh" because she didn't want to believe trans people have been around for that long. It's bad, sure, but we already knew she was a shitty person. I think it's a better opportunity to discuss the process of radicalization and closed-loop ideological thinking than to shit on the internet's favorite punching bag with your new favorite factoid. Jews right now are experiencing violent antisemitism. Bomb threats, death threats, rape threats have become the norm for a lot of us, but I have yet to see that discussed with the same fervor as JKR being shitty for the gajillionth time. If you truly want to make yourself a part of the living history of the Holocaust, you have to understand how to fight for what's important. You have to learn how to protect what you love, not just destroy what you hate. It's very important not to lose the plot here

It's crucial that we remember that the book burnings were primarily about Jews. Joseph Goebbels proclaimed in Berlin "The era of extreme Jewish intellectualism is now at an end. The breakthrough of the German revolution has again cleared the way on the German path...The future German man will not just be a man of books, but a man of character." The German Student Union described book burnings as a "response to a worldwide Jewish smear campaign against Germany and an affirmation of traditional German values." Science, study, reason, progress were all seen as Jewish plots to destroy society (wonder where else we've seen that). Magnus Hirschfeld was persecuted because he was gay and his Institute was full of gay and trans people, yes. But it was also because he was a Jew, and a man of science who was pushing the boundaries of medical care for LGBT people. Just. something to think about

[ohdeerfully]

Man, I just need some more sleepy Alastor x reader. Honestly, I don’t know what the plot would be or whatever but I am a literal magnet when it comes to sleepy characters😋😋

Lazy Morning

Alastor x Reader (fluff)

TW: none!

join my discord!

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You stretched your arms up and out as you woke up, eyes flickering open at the bright red of Hell’s sky filtering through the curtains of your room. You let your eyes close again for a moment, sighing and going limp under your covers again. You had a long night, and just… a few more minutes…

Your consciousness started slipping again, and you felt so comfortable under your fluffy duvet…

Knock, knock knock

Your eyes cracked open and you couldn’t stop the groan that escaped your lips. You knew exactly who knocked on your door, because he had a particular way of doing so every time. You weren’t upset that he was here, but you were upset that he was rousing you from your comfortable bed.

“Let yourself in,” You called, unintentionally sharp. You tugged the blanket around your face tighter, staring at the door as it opened softly.

Alastor peeked the top half of his body in, looked at you, laughed lightly, and fully entered the room. 

“My dearest,” He said through a gentle grin. His head tilted to the side, as if he was confused to see you laying there. “It’s… rather late in the morning! Don’t waste your eternity lying in bed!”

You simply hummed in response, and you didn’t move an inch. He stepped forwards towards your bed, looming over you. You had trouble seeing his face in the long shadows cast by the violently bright morning beaming through your curtains. But, you could tell there was a disapproving look in his features. He hated unproductivity. 

“Could you close the curtains tighter,” You pleaded, ignoring his earlier comment. You were growing irritated at the light, and shoved your face into the pillow.

Alastor ‘tsked’ and walked towards the curtains. His sharp fingers dug into the fabric… before he sharply pulled them apart, blasting light into your room.

You shouted wordlessly at him, though an intelligible ‘you dick’ was heard in your otherwise mindless yells. Alastor only cackled at you, dramatically wiping a fake tear from his eye—the sound of a laugh track on his cane joined him. He was cut off when a pillow hit him square in the face.

“Fucking close them!” You practically screamed. Your voice cracked, still dripping with sleep. You were squinting in the light to the point your eyes might as well be shut.

Alastor obeyed with a hum, a pleased look in his eyes at his own antics. The room was swamped in darkness. The demon walked towards your bed again, his eyes slightly glowing in the darkness. You watched him as he watched you.

“Now, when do you plan on not being so lazy?” There was a hint of a tease in his voice. “It’s a wonderful day in Hell.”

You slid your arms out from the blanket and reached towards him. He looked at your arms strangely. You rolled your eyes at his cluelessness.

“I’ll get up if you stay with me for a few minutes.”

Alastor thought for a moment before gingerly setting himself down on the bed near you. “I’m not going to babysit you,” He began. “Just b-” You cut him off with a whine. His eyes narrowed at you.

“Get closer,” You demanded, your arms still outstretched. Alastor wasn’t the biggest fan of your childish attitude, but he bit back a comment and scooted a couple inches forward. You lifted yourself up slightly and slid your hands behind his back, tugging him forward.

With anybody else, Alastor would have probably yanked off an arm, or something. His heart held a strangely soft spot for you, though, and he was able to fight off his instincts to let himself get dragged by your hands. He caught himself from falling completely forward, his hands placed flat on either side of your head.

You smiled up at him, a sleepy look still affecting your eyes. He felt his chest squeeze while he looked down at you. It took him a while to get used to the strange, alien emotions you made him feel in the months after he confessed to “feeling a strange way about you”, but he was starting to become more acquainted with them. He clenched his jaw, his smile becoming low and watery as his eyes watched your hand drag a light finger down his cheek.

“You curse me,” His voice was low and intimate, and it lacked the sound of radio frequency. His face inched closer to yours as he spoke. “I feel so weak near you.” He kept the fact that he hated it to himself.

You gave him a lazy, lopsided grin. “I consider myself more like a hex, really.” This made Alastor smile a bit wider. He pressed his face into your neck, and you laughed lightly at the sensation of his hair tickling your skin. He inhaled sharply before sighing, settling his body next to you.

What a change in mood, You thought to yourself as Alastor snaked an arm under your head. You saw a tired look in his eyes, something that he would tend to hide in his day to day. You knew he didn’t sleep much. 

“It’s been a few minutes,” Alastor commented. His voice had a twinge of exhaustion in it, likely brought on by laying down. It was no surprise that sleep would jump on him like a rabid animal since he kept himself awake for seemingly days on end.

“Just a few more,” You pleaded. You pressed your face into his chest, and felt it rumble slightly when he hummed an ‘okay’ in response to your request. You curled your arm around his torso.

You don’t know when you fell asleep, but you know you did when you crack open your eyes and your body feels heavy, still waking up. You lift yourself, but stop when you feel the weight of Alastor’s arm around you. You smile when you look down and see a soft, sleepy smile on his lips and a relaxed look on his features.

You slip yourself from his grip, and his eyes crack open. His eyebrows furrow for a moment, and you watch as he stifles a yawn.

You wordlessly blinks his eyes open and looks at you.

“Ready to get up?” You ask him, leaning over to stare directly down at him.

He closes his eyes in response again and sighs, simultaneously lifting an arm to lightly wrap around your waist.

You watch him for a few seconds, before looking up and around your room. Your eyes settle on your curtains, an ominous glow of light emanating from the edges. A sinister smile peaks your lips, and you weigh the pros and cons.

It was a brief thought, though, because when you looked back down at Alastor all evil intent left your body. This guy never slept, you shouldn’t interrupt this just to get back at him.

Plus, how endearing he looked, so vulnerable underneath you. The Radio Demon, sleeping, guards lowered, trusting you. You leaned down and pressed a careful kiss against his forehead before lying back down. He was quick to swamp you with his arms once again, and you suddenly wondered if it’d be so bad to sleep the day away.

[starlost97]

— distractions.

summary: You always hated when Max got into fights, and because of that, he stopped. However, when you came into question, he just couldn't help it.

keywords: fluff, Max Verstappen (almost) fights, Max Verstappen is protective, walk him like a dog vibes, 2018!Max Verstappen, gn!reader.

characters: Max Verstappen.

warnings: almost a fight, lots of swearing, shoving.

a/n: I remember having so much fun writing this one! the prompt was "them hearing someone talking shit about you while you're not near". I didn't write what they said (just wrote that they said something)! also this one's a part of the shortfics series (that I desperately need a name to) as well!

word count: 491.

requested?: yes! by a friend.

Max was known for his temper. At 21 years old he still got into fights, and for some time there was nothing that could stop him.

Then he met you, an incredibly sweet person that — for some reason — fell in love with him almost as hard as he fell in love with you. So now he had a reason to think before doing.

Still, when he heard someone muttering all the things that they would do to you, every piece of self-control that he had broke to pieces.

"What did you just say?” He asked, his voice a bit louder than usual. “Are you fucking deaf? What the fuck did you just say?”

“You are hearing things, Verstappen.” The man said, now a bit more courageous as he stepped closer with his hands in his pockets.

“Why don't you act like the man you pretend to be and own what you just fucking said?” Max said, shoving him hard against the wall.

“What's your fucking problem?” The guy asked, now getting angry.

“My problem?! You are asking me what my problem is.” Max asked, more to himself as he tried to process what he just heard. “I’ll show you exactly what my fucking problem is.” He said, violently grabbing the guy's collar and shoving him against the wall one more time. Max was angry enough to break the man's nose right there, but then, he heard a familiar voice.

“Max!”

In seconds, the guy was on the floor. Max didn't even hesitate to let him go and turn his attention to you, who had your arms crossed and looked at him with a look of disapproval.

“You know I don't like when you get into fights.” You said, making Max smile.

“I'm so sorry, babe. When he started talking shit about you… God, it was stronger than me.” He said, caressing your cheek with his thumb and kissing your forehead. He let his eyes linger around your features for a bit. “How can you be so pretty? I can't comprehend it.”

Someone might say that he was trying to change the subject so he doesn't get in trouble, but truly, everything about you was a distraction factor. Your rosy lips and how kisseable they are, the way your hair looks and feels so soft against his fingers, and your eyes…

God, your eyes.

Max was going crazy, really. One of his favorite things about you — even before you started dating — would be your eyes. And now when they look at him carrying such love…

Max likes to talk about how not even the greatest of the poets could express the feeling that those pretty eyes conveyed him.

“What were we talking about?” He asks, genuinely, as he comes back to reality, making you chuckle.

“Nothing important.” Max smiles at your answer, getting distracted once again by your pretty lips, which he gently kissed, now distracting you too.

[salfishersface]

Baby Fever || Sal Fisher

Synopsis - Sal has baby fever.

Warnings - NSFW.

Notes - All characters are 18+!

Word Count - 0.6k.

{Caffeinate Me}

Part Two || Part Three

Visiting Chug, Maple and Soda was always something you enjoyed, it was so lovely. To see little Soda’s face light up when you walked in filled your heart with so much joy. Your boyfriend, Sal Fisher, loved it too. He loved giving Soda a ride on his shoulders, hearing her little giggles and squeals of delight made life not seem so bad. However, it always put you both in the same position when you got back to the apartment you shared with him, his dad Henry, and Lisa: your face buried amongst the sea of pillows on his bed, arse up in the air as he pounded into you from behind silently begging for you to let him cum inside and knock you up. That’s where you found yourself now. 

Your hands grasped the sheets below, knuckles turning white as you tried to hold in the moans that were threatening to tumble from your lips. “Please, please,” Sal begged as he bit his bottom lip, trying his hardest not to be loud and wake up his sleeping parents just a room over. “Please make me a daddy.”

“Sally!” You cried out quietly, eyes rolling into the back of your head as his cock thrusted inside of you. 

“I know, baby, I know,” he cooed, pressing his exposed lips to your bare shoulder blade. “Just a little more, you can take it can’t you? I know you can,” his voice was hoarse, but then again, he had been edging himself for what felt like hours. You nodded into the pillow, biting the skin of your bottom lip between your teeth as your third orgasm of the night washed over you. Your body shook violently, legs trembling as the coil in your stomach snapped. His lips kissed over your bare shoulders, biting and nipping at the soft flesh as his hands roamed your chest. He squeezed your breasts lightly as his thrusts became sloppier and more staggered as his stamina wavered. “Gonna cum,” he groaned into your neck. You were too fucked out to comprehend what he was saying, but you nodded in response anyway. Sal’s hands grasped onto your hips tighter as, with a few more staggered thrusts, he came inside of you. Thick ropes of creamy cum filled your cunt to the max. 

When Sal finally pulled out, he sat back and admired what he had created as if it was a work of art. “Shit,” you whispered as your entire body collapsed on the bed. 

“Put your knees up to your chest,” Sal said suddenly, tearing his gaze away from your cum covered cunt and gazing into your eyes. You looked at him quizzically, tilting your head to the side. “I wasn’t joking about wanting to become a father, you know.” 

Your eyes widened with surprise, but did as you were told and pulled your knees up to your chest. “You really want to have a baby with me?” You asked.

“More than anything,” Sal nodded. He lay down next to you and pulled you into his chest, making sure to keep your knees fixed to your chest in hopes that his semen would find its way to their desired place. You knew tomorrow you’d be in the same position since you were babysitting Soda again for Chug and Maple, but you didn’t mind. You wanted to make your loving, adoring boyfriend’s dreams of becoming a father reality and the pleasure he gave you was just a plus. “I hope it worked,” Sal whispered as he placed a tender kiss on your forehead. 

“We can try again tomorrow,” you said with a sleepy smile. 

Sal nodded, a grin plastered on his lips as he looked down on you. “We can indeed.” It wasn’t long before you both fell into a deep, peaceful sleep, ready for another day of babysitting an overactive toddler for your friends. 

[ayaboba]

I GUESS IT WAS UNAVOIDABLE

summary: turns out you got a cold - not to worry, your boyfriend is here!

characters: alhaitham, diluc, kazuha, wanderer.

notes: new year, new theme. wc: 1.2k total, gn! reader, petnames, angsty in diluc but it fades into fluff, thought i was real funny in wanderer’s, you’re sick.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ dreamy december event masterlist

alhaitham

“Don’t look at me like that.”

You shoot him a stern look alongside your words, taking a generous sip of the warm honey water swirling in your favourite mug. Its comforting warmth immediately eases the sharp pain in your throat down to a low throb, as its aftertaste proves sweeter than the concoction yesterday night.

Alhaitham assesses you from the foot of your shared bed, his face a mixture of contemplative, exasperated, and amused. How rare, your predicament must be concerning enough to expand Alhaitham's devastatingly frugal palette of emotions. What an honour.

“I’m not looking at you like anything,” he mutters, letting out an exasperated sigh. “It’s up to your interpretation of how I look at you, actually.”

Despite his sharp tongue and the knowledge that he’s pickpocketed this debate, leaving you nothing but suffocating gloom, the anxious face staring upon yours shows nothing but genuine worry.

“Your fever is easing,” Alhaitham notes, his voice trailing off as he watches your body shake from a particularly violent cough. “Although, I strongly suggest that you go back to sleep.”

If the cold hadn’t snatched your usual, more energised self, leaving this crippling state equivalent to lying on your deathbed (it really wasn't), then you wouldn’t have second’s hesitation in replying with a sharp response contrasting whatever Alhaitham just said.

But right now, with the decorative array of warm lights illuminating the room, it casts a spell on your tired senses as the slow song of sleep cradles you away.

diluc

No amount of your most persuasive chants is able to coax that stupid idea away from him.

Dawn Winery was one of the many sponsors for Monstadt’s annual winter markets, an exquisite yearly event composing of streets after streets lined with cosy stalls lit with soft fairy lights, late nights sprinkled with the frosty taste of freshly fallen snow as everyone stayed up as late as the moon’s guidance, laughter and cheer dancing through the night.

Wasn’t it only obvious that the stall’s demand was going to skyrocket?

Wasn’t it obvious that you would think of assisting, even if it led to seeing the cracks of dawn?

That’s what you argued earlier, about twenty minutes ago, as if you were more concerned with his rationality than your spiralling fatigue. Which, to be frank, you were.

His hand was intertwined with yours, desperately tight, strong like the gaze falling from those eyes, rimmed with the reasoning for empty tissue boxes. Those hands were squeezing an ailment into the emptiness of your veins, leaving his desolate. And that’s when you snapped. How could he give it his all if he gave it all away?

Even when you cried, even when you yelled, even when you were on the verge of giving up, Diluc never once faltered; he adapted each time to defy what gnawed you, and perhaps he will go with these silent battles to win the golden hope restorative for you both.

Midnight. That same hand clambers up, searching for yours, finally finding it and squeezing it once, for you. Only this time you squeeze it back, twice.

kazuha

Those lacy curtains awaken a myriad of joyous senses, the strengthening sunshine warmly caressing the surface of your skin, leaving a glistening glow, while the tickling breeze drifts away the last of your drowsiness through the window.

What a beautiful day, you notice as you stretch the aching muscles in your neck and shoulders. The simple sight of sunshine releases a blossoming feeling of positivity that is likely going to be engraved into the roots of your day.

As you finish up with the basic stretches and shuffle on to tackle your shared bed, taking the covers in hand and connecting them to their respective corners, something on your bedside table catches your eye.

You were mere thoughts away from the impending decision to investigate, and this part you’d like to blame Kazuha for his chosen timing to start prepping breakfast.

Not just any typical breakfast, you might add. Your favourite.

It’s instantly recognisable from the first delicate wafts seeping into the bedroom. And it’s not exactly an exaggeration when you admit that your body and mind halted. Completely ceased, flabbergasted personified.

That peculiar guest on your nightstand was all forgotten the moment you stepped foot into the kitchen.

“Good morning, sunshine,” a particular poet smiles over as you take a seat opposite the counter.

“Feeling better? I left the last of your cough medication on your bedside table so you’d remember to take it.”

He passes the plate, the masterpiece of the morning by far, almost too perfect to eat.. but then it all comes flooding in. Starting off with a few waves in the form of muffled words, and then the tsunami hits, the biggest wave, the recollection of memories.

"Ah..." is all you reply with.

Kazuha lets out a good-natured chuckle, subtly surveying you as he does. “Well, it doesn’t look like you need it, anyway.”

wanderer

One of the most eminent traits about your boyfriend was his determination—no, stubbornness—when it came to things that really shouldn’t concern him, especially if they sincerely nettled him so much. So simple that it confounded you why it never occurred to him to try and mind his own business for once. You frequently muttered under your breath how his behaviour reminded you of some toxic grandma living down the street.

Additionally, he should consider that you’re a human. A human who experienced things every other human did, for example, colds. Inevitable and terrible, but everyone had them.

Therefore, he shouldn’t treat it too seriously.

Yet here he is, sleeping in the same bed, under the same covers, just a ghost of a touch away. Promptly declining your polite request that he should spend the night in the spare bedroom as you felt particularly sniffly and probably needed a tissue permanently attached to your nose for the night.

Sleep was playing an eternal game of tag, teasing you. You don’t know what time it is, but it must be late. You’ve finished many seasons of your delusional scenarios and are now left bare of anything to entertain until dreams pulled you into its whirlpools.

The rims of your eyes water as you attempt to hold in that itching cough, blinking the tears back, but it felt like a million deluxe feathers each performing acrobatics in your throat.

“You should probably let out that cough. You’re starting to look like you’re having a breakdown.”

With more strength than anticipated, you snap to face him, but not after letting out that wheezing cough that more or less rearranges your skeletal structure. His pretty face nodding sombrely into yours.

“I’m fine,” you burst.

“And I’m the Dendro Archon,” he acknowledged, passing you a tissue. “Have you not slept at all?”

“It’s playing a game of tag,” you sniff, with a tone that conveyed, you’re not going to get it.

“Just run faster,” he recommended, pulling you into his chest before you even have the chance to process what he just said.

[atypicalamortentia]

Firsts || Severus Snape

Synopsis - You give your potions professor his first blowjob.

Warnings - NSFW.

Notes - All characters are 18+!

Word Count - 0.8k.

[Caffeinate Me]

Professor Severus Snape, potions master, had it down bad for you, his final year student. 

With a wave of his wand, the door slammed shut and the lock latched. You were sitting on his lap, frantically kissing. Your mouths smashed against each other with a deep desperation. You smirked into his lips as you felt your potions professor grind against you, begging for more. His hands were around your waist as he pulled you closer until you were flush against his chest. Then, he pulled away. “We shouldn’t do this,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Sir…” you whispered back, gulping softly. You were about to continue your sentence when he attacked your lips again feverishly. You knew when you called him ‘sir’ it had him weak at the knees. 

You let out a soft moan as his tongue forced its way into your mouth, swirling around your own, fighting for dominance. His hands were still planted firmly on your waist, grasping at the clothing that was surrounding your hips. Oh how he wanted more from you. 

It was like you could read his mind as you began grinding against him, eager to feel his clothed erection against your most intimate area. You let out a muffled moan against his lips as you continued to grind yourself against him, and he couldn’t help but do the same. The man was close to cumming already and you had barely even touched him. 

You hopped off his lap and gave him a cheeky grin before getting onto your knees. 

“What are you doing?” He asked, breathing heavily. 

“Just relax for me sir,” you whispered, unzipping his trousers. You looked up at him with those big doe eyes and smiled, fluttering your eyelashes at him. 

Were you really about to do this here?! 

You tugged his trousers down with a bit of help from the potions master himself and pulled his cock out of his grey boxers. It was positively huge, something you didn’t expect, and his slit was already leaking with pre-cum. Your mouth instantly began watering at the sight in front of you and before you had even had a chance to think about what you were doing - sucking off your potions professor in the potions room - you were already leaning forward to put his thick cock in your mouth. He tensed as you leaned forward, but immediately relaxed upon the warm heat of your mouth around his length. 

“Shit,” he groaned, throwing his head back against his wooden chair. You took him all the way into your mouth, so far back that you were gagging on his cock, tears in your eyes as you looked up at him. The sight drove him wild and he began to fuck your face slowly. You continued to make eye contact with him, admiring the way his face was flushed red and sweat was threatening to spill from his brow as he concentrated on the amount of pleasure you were giving him. You tried to smile at him, but the sheer length of his cock in your mouth made it almost impossible. You swirled your tongue around the tip, licking up his slit and forcing him to shudder underneath you. “Shit - just like that,” he whimpered, hands making their way into your hair as he continued to thrust his hips into your face. 

“You taste so good professor,” you mumbled around his cock. The vibrations of your words around his length sent him absolutely feral and he began to fuck your face faster. You gagged a few more times as the force of his thrusts continued to get harsher and harsher. He was using you like you were some sort of toy, and you were completely okay with that. You knew this was his first time and you wanted it to be pleasurable for him. 

“Ah - I’m going to cum Y/N,” he groaned loudly as his movements picked up in speed. You hallowed your cheeks and continued to suck like your life depended on it until he spilled his seed down your throat, his hips stuttering violently. When he was finished, he retracted his cock from your mouth and placed his hand on your jaw to prevent you from opening your mouth. “That’s a good girl, swallow it. Swallow all of it.” You did as you were told, swallowing every last drop he gave you whilst still maintaining eye contact. “Such a good girl.” 

He released your jaw and smiled awkwardly at you as you stood up from your kneeling position, rubbing at your red raw knees. “That was certainly interesting, sir,” you smiled. “But next time, I get to cum.” 

He nodded, nerves fluttering in his stomach slightly, but he was too caught up in the afterglow of cumming to truly focus on your words. With a small peck on the lips, you turned to leave, leaving the potions master alone once more. 

Professor Severus Snape, potions master, had it down bad for you, his final year student.

[petriwriting]

Promise. - Theodore Nott X Reader

Summary: Theodore gives Y/N a special gift, reminding them that they are his safety in an unsafe world.

A/N: I would imagine this takes place in 6th year, 'cause you know.. Voldemort. But beware I've been really into writing fluff for my comfort characters lately. This is very angsty. Extra heartbreak points if one of them dies at the battle of Hogwarts, use your imagination.

Late-night walks were common for the pair. Especially when they needed to get away for the night, with everyone going on in their world it was no wonder they both needed a break.

Theodore Nott was under the threat of his father, expected to side with Lord Voldemort, it was his reputation as a pure-blooded Slytherin. Perhaps in some sickening way, he felt the need to clear the family name of his father's wrongdoing. But deep down, he knew it wasn't right. They both did.

Y/n was by his side, as loyal as a Hufflepuff. through everything. On the nights his father became aggressive and violent, Theo came to them seeking refuge. Y/n always welcomed the boy with open arms.

They had been a pair since childhood, they attended dinner parties together, and y/n attended every one of Theo's quidditch games. In turn, Theo was there for y/n when classes were stressful, and life felt overwhelming.

It wasn't until that particular evening that things would change, possibly forever.

The two walked along the empty, quiet streets braving the cold air together. they had both been quiet, observing their surroundings and enjoying each other's company in silence.

"Y/n," Theo finally said, shattering the long silence that had been following them.

"hmm?" y/n's voice was soft, quiet. they were now entering a park square. someplace slightly more private than the streets.

"I've been thinking."

"About what?"

"About us."

y/n's heart began to race. surely this wasn't a breakup, how could Theo possibly be abandoning all they had, after all, they had been through? this couldn't be. y/n was so accustomed to hearing bad news these days that it was the only solution their brain could come up with.

"Y/n," Theo turned to them, holding their face in cold pale hands. "I love you, but I don't want to be with you in this war," he said.

"Teddy, I don't understand-"

"Please just listen." Theo insisted quietly. "This is not me parting ways with you, I- could never," he explained gently. "I propose that we run away. change our names, we can flee and start a new life together. without all the dangers of being here."

Y/n was unconvinced and looked down for a moment before locking eyes with him.

"I love you more than anything. But if we stay here our lives will be in danger, possibly forever."

Y/n couldn't deny that fact. The war had already taken people they both loved. It wasn't right to be talking about wanting to get married one day, have kids, and grow old together if it meant they would be living in danger, living in fear.

"It isn't right. We can't just flee. we need to fight this," y.n shook their head gently, partially in disbelief. "no matter what happens." the pair locked eyes and the snow began to gently fall around them, coating the park in a grey glow.

"Then promise me."

Theodore shuffled through his pockets, pulling out a tiny deep red velvet box. It was battered, aged, and torn. but it was still soft. "Promise me, that you'll stick around, no matter what." as soon as Theo mimicked y/n's words, soft tears began falling from their eyes, watching him toy with the box.

Out from the box emerged a shiny, silver ring with an elaborate stone placed in it. something very expensive no doubt. something that was purchased with his father's money. Theodore offered the ring to y/n.

"This was my mother's ring," he said quietly, his voice slightly shaking. "I took it from her things when she,-" Theo gasped quietly, the shaky breath taking the air out of his lungs when he tried to continue his sentence.

Y/n grabbed the sides of his face, the boy wasn't crying, Theodore rarely ever cried. but there was hurt in his eyes that pained y/n to see.

"I promise." barely a whisper. "no matter what Theo, I'll always be right here."

Y/n's soft touch brushed against Theo's cheeks before he pulled forward pressing their lips together in desperation. It was a sweet and heartfelt kiss, like two lovers that couldn't live without each other.

After the kiss, they embraced one another very tightly as the snow collected around them.

"I just want everything to be okay," Y/n whispered. "we'll be okay."

they pulled away from one another, each shivering in the cold. Y/n took the ring and gently twirled it around their thumb and forefinger. "Theo I can not take your mother's ring." it was dazzling. quite beautiful for that sort of thing. "I know how much this means to you." y/n said. Theo was insistent. "I've been wrong about a lot of things in my life, y/n. But I was never wrong about you. I want you to have it, keep it, my end of our promise." he insisted.

"Theo-"

y/n was promptly cut off. "Please take this. you know how much it means to me, you mean more than that." his heartfelt confession made y/n's stomach flutter, it was that same feeling they had when they were younger and Theo would hold their hand or say just the right thing. Theo grabbed the ring and slipped it onto y/n's middle finger.

"I'll guard it with my life." y/n said with another shiver, the later the night grew the colder the chill in the air became.

"Here, love," Theo said, taking off his coat and offering it to Y/n by draping it around their shoulders. "but Theo, you'll be cold." y/n retorted, but Theo was incredibly insistent that evening. "I can manage until we are safe at home," he chuckled softly. "Don't worry about me. I'm fine."

As the two continued on their path, Theo wrapped their arm around y/n, in an effort to keep them warm and as an act of deep affection. Y/n leaned their head over onto Theo's arm.

[kazutora-kurokawa]

Heyyyy, omg can I ask for nsfw headcanons for haitani brothers, hanma, baji, kawata brother and shion with a reader who has a extremely high libido 😼

TokRev x High Libido!Reader

♡ NSFW, fem reader, pet names, roughness + fluff, praise + degradation, Hanma lowkey being a jackass ♡

Characters: Ran, Rin, Hanma, Baji, Nahoya, Souya, Shion

note: Just some short headcanons, thank you anon 🩷

note 2: Writing smut while I'm on my period is so therapeutic for some reason

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Ran

💜 Doesn't mind your high libido because he has one too

💜 Mutual masturbation + phone sex

💜 Teases you when you're needy

💜 Lazy morning sex 🔛🔝

💜 He lets you ride him as soon as he wakes up

"My pretty baby~ so needy for me early in the morning ♡"

Rindou

🩵 Soft boi hours fr

🩵 Eats you out before he fucks you

🩵 Fucks you like he loves you because he does

🩵 Praises you nonstop and loves listening to you whimper and moan for more

🩵 Doesn't stop til you tell him to even if he's tired, he lives to please you

"It's okay princess, imma make you cum okay?"

Hanma

🏵️ Teases you about your high sex drive and laughs when you get upset

🏵️ Doesn't let you touch yourself because you're his to touch

🏵️ Lets you sit in his lap and grind yourself on him

🏵️ Degrades you while you beg for him to fuck you

"Aww my little slut wants me to fuck her? You're gonna have to beg me better than that baby ♡"

Baji

🪷 Bites you during sex to mark you as his, you always wake up the next day looking like you were the main dish at a vampire buffet

🪷 Loves when you leave nail marks down his back (he'd proudly show them off to Chifuyu too 💀)

🪷 Laughs at you when you beg for him to fuck you because he was going to even if you didn't beg

🪷 Eats you out til you're overstimulated

"What's wrong cutie? You begged me for it and now you're a whiny little mess~"

Nahoya

🌟 Thigh riding + ass slapping (he'd probably slap your pussy too if you let him)

🌟 Grips your thighs hard enough to leave marks

🌟 Likes when you pull on his hair, takes it as a sign to be rougher

🌟 Curses the whole time you two fuck

"Fuck baby, pussy gripping me fucking so good. I'm gonna make sure you can't walk in the morning ~"

Souya

💠 Doesn't mind your high sex drive, but his is definitely lower

💠 Moans louder than you when you fuck, you're just so tight and warm

💠 Loves when you ride him, especially when he gets home from working at the ramen shop, it's a great stress reliever

💠 He'll let you keep riding him even if he's tired and overstimulated, he just wants you to feel good

"You look so beautiful on top of me babygirl, keep going til you're satisfied~"

Shion

🖤 He may be a violent delinquent, but he's a major softie for you

🖤 Obsessed with your high sex drive and always makes time to fuck you

🖤 Prefers to fuck in private, but will do it in public if you beg him enough

🖤 He whimpers when you suck him off

🖤 Has to go slow when he fucks you so he doesn't cum too fast, but you always end up fucking yourself onto his cock faster

"Shit! Slow down please, I ain't tryna cum just yet pretty girl~"

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Tagging @arlerts-angel and @i-literally-cant-with-this

[sixstepsaway]

so here's the thing

i've seen a bunch of people say on twitter and stuff how... ed's behavior is very abusive and his anger is dangerous and he isn't romantic lead material because of it

and i get where they're coming from

but to me the main issue isn't putting ed in the position of a romantic lead, but not crafting the narrative around his characterization so that it allows for a spicy romantic pirates-in-love narrative instead of...whatever this is.

i'm going to try and explain this. idk if i'll do well but i'll try

the way she show presents stede is as an innocent baby who isn't really equipped for pirate life. he goes into a fugue/disassociative state whenever there's any real violence, apparently, and needs protecting by other characters when things get too rough - for example when ed is telling ned lowe not to take the poker to stede.

that's fine! it's honestly adorable to see a masc character being so soft around the edges and being protected by other characters this way.

(i'm not going to touch on stede's... eh... not great characterization this season rn)

then there's izzy, who is shown as a bit violent, a bit rough around the edges. he's more likely to draw a sword or throw a punch or hit someone with a chair or take a punch like a champ. violence is just part of life for him and that's okay, it just Is, from small things like smacking stede on the ass to bigger things like being wall slammed, it's not all that big or bad for violence to happen around and with him, he tends to give as good as he gets (there's some nuance here but i'm talking the macro themes not the micro of what izzy does vs is done to him)

and finally there's ed

ed is presented as violent (stabbing knives at guys, telling fang to use the snail fork etc) and used to a life of violence, and then in season 2 he's presented as really violent, his anger coming out in dangerous and terrifying ways

and frankly, i'd be super into it if he and izzy were the main ship and that twisted dynamic from the first two episodes of s2 was explored and fleshed out into something deeper

friends to enemies to lovers who fight and fuck. angry pirates who lay hands on each other, who break the whole ship with each other in the heat of passion.

except instead, s2 gives us... abuse. it gives us izzy cringing and lowering his head and trying to protect the kids crew from ed's angry outbursts.

so when stede comes back and he's still soft around the edges and ed headbutts him and it's deliberate, it's... not a great look, and the vibes are a bit skewed

if stede fought back, if when ed struck out at him he struck back, if they fought rather than it being one-sided, if it was friends to enemies to lovers and not presented as healthy, but maybe they can work their way there, who knows, maybe even more like anne bonnie and mary read because hey, they were doing something very similar?

except they were both into it. they were both enjoying the fighting and the fucking and the burning down the house.

stede's not enjoying it.

i cannot describe how much i hate this sequence just because of the way stede flinches

anne and mary don't!! mary jumps at the unexpected bang but she doesnt flinch, she doesn't cover her face like she thinks the vase will be coming for her not the wall and anne? looks so into it

and the thing is that in real life, no, you don't want to date someone who throws shit around, or headbutts you

but in fiction when it's two fucked up people doing this shit together like anne and mary?

that can be fun.

but instead what we've been given is stede flinching and apologizing to ed and then all of ed's...what, semi-redemption???? is done away from the other collection of people he abused, and then he spends some time on a fishing boat wearing a dog collar and everything is fine because he's good now and won't be doing anything bad ever again

and it's just... poor writing. the vibes are rancid.

i spent a really big chunk of time between s1 and s2 defending ed. i kept saying how what he did to izzy by making him eat his toe wasn't abuse, it was a one-off and abuse isn't a one-off thing it's a pattern, and then s2 made it a pattern.

explicitly. explicitly a pattern.

not just one toe but three.

jim saying "you're in an unhealthy relationship with blackbeard"

and all ed offered izzy was a "sorry about your leg" which might've been fine if izzy survived and they could work on this more, but instead that's all the apology and closure izzy will ever get

ed threw a chair and a vase and made stede flinch in fear and stede was right to do that. what part of any of this implies this will never happen again? that stede won't press the wrong button at some point and be on the receiving end? none of it

and if we'd been presented with a s2 stede bonnet who could handle himself and stand up for himself and fight back, then maybe i could imagine that turning into a weird sexy fucked up anne/mary like thing and maybe that could be why they put that episode in, but instead it feels like that episode was going, "look, see, ed's violence is fine because these two are fine with it with each other"

but stede isn't

ed and izzy or ed and stede in an unhealthy battle of a relationship could be such a fun, interesting and downright sexy thing to watch unfold on tv, and could honestly end somewhere far more down the chill end of the spectrum, but that's not what we've been given here

i cannot argue that ed isn't an abuser anymore, and not just of izzy but of the whole crew. he terrified frenchie.

it's not good writing to try and lean into the idea that ed and the pirates are violent and live a life of violence, so it's okay that ed's been violent, while simultaneously presenting his violence as traumatic and abusive, and then less than three episodes later saying oh it's fine now, he's just a little meow meow who can do no wrong, see?

especially considering they had him murdering people at the end of the season. and sure, you can say the english are just cannon fodder and they dont 'count', but they did before. ed explicitly did not kill before, and that included the english, or the spanish, or anyone else. so either they count or they don't, but flipping him on a dime makes no sense.

ALSO

having ed be the son of an abusive man who threw plates at his mother and made her cringe and then having ed kill his father to protect his mother and then a season later having ed become the kind of man who throws chairs and vases and makes his love interest cringe is, again, not bloody optimal

i want to say again i dont CARE about tv always presenting healthy relationships or tv always giving us aspirational goals. i want messy fucked up dynamics and terrible people making terrible choices, and still, to this day, i fucking love ed teach. i would honestly love to have seen them continue with ed's darkness and bring stede into it and see where they went with that, to have stede kill ned lowe and not just bury his feelings in ed but get off on it, enjoy the violence, and see where that led, but no

and so instead all we end up with is a protagonist who is being set up for a lifetime of abuse from an intimate partner, and a romantic lead who abuses his love interests (and yes. izzy is a love interest, he is set up like one and positioned like one and treated like one), frightens his love interests with his violence, is erratic and most of all inconsistently written. he was so sorry about scaring fang as though he hadn't been deliberately terrifying the whole crew for fuck knows how long? what?!

the whole fandom has spent so long saying, "no no, i know stede bonnet irl was a slave owner, but ofmd is using the names and not any real piracy, it's more disney piracy, you know? so that kind of stuff doesnt exist!" and then they flipped around and went "blackbeard is blackbeard and so he is evil and does all these horrible things" and i dont know how to rationalize the two sides of that because it feels so out of place

i'm getting rambly, this isnt a particularly well constructed thought process, i just feel like we were robbed both of a toxic, violent relationship that could be fun to see explored on tv and a soft and sweet love story between two middle aged men exploring their first loves in one fell swoop and there's no way for s3 to bring either of those things back because they got utterly torpedoed by making ed a horrible person

ugh

[dollwrites]

ᴀɴɢᴇʟs ᴏғ sᴍᴀʟʟ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ ! ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ᴜʀᴏɢɪ & ᴋᴀʀᴀᴋᴜ

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!hashira!reader, noncon, breeding kink, descriptions of blood and injuries, instant loss / bad end trope, dvp, the boys are meanies, choking, degradation, lots of cum, brief oral sex ( m! ), fingering, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝘆 ∣ @serenesaku [ thank you so much, i hope you like it! ]

“If you drop her, our fun’s over before it even starts!” you can faintly hear Karaku harping, and your head rolls around on your neck— it feels like jelly, hardly able to support the weight of your head as it droops backwards to look up at the demon who has you in his grasp. his talons are wrapped so tightly around one of your wrists that you can see a trickle of ruby, feel it as it runs down the length of your forearm. the blood mingles with the dirt and scuff that clings to your skin as you hang there, suspended in the air by merely his claw’s grip on your arm. “Give her to me already!”

all of the muscles in your arm were on fire, sore and aching, and you felt as though the pull of your weight on the one limb had knocked it out of socket. that wasn’t the worst of your injuries, however, but most of the pain from the battle had numbed at this point, anyways.

you don’t even remember where your sword had clattered, broken and useless. wherever was, it was well out of your reach as the demon flies you higher and higher, as if planning to perch you atop the moon itself.

it had been quite the game to him already, flying you higher, and then loosening his grip to let you slip just far enough to gasp and fear the plummet, before he gripped your arm again. at this point, you were praying to whatever god could allow this to happen that they would simply kill you already and get it over with. being toyed with would’ve been scary enough, but you were Hashira, and you were supposed to win this fight. not become a demon’s marionette under the moonlight.

Urogi glances down, smirking with putrid delight as he sees the dulled, defeat-snuffed gaze as you take in your position. “Wishing I would really drop you, demon slayer?” he was mocking you, spitting the words as if they were soaked in acid. “Let you die this easily?” a low cackle bubbles up from his throat, amber eyes burning. “Not a chance.” the violent flap of his wigs send blades of cold wind through your hair and ruffles your torn uniform, you could swear the sheer force of it nicks your cheek as he swoops downward, diving towards the ground. “We’re not done playing yet!” the speed makes your head spin, but you’ve not enough energy to squirm or try to stop the impending collision, so you close your eyes, brows furrowed, and brace for impact.

it comes, but not in the way you expect. with a flick of his talons, Urogi flings you from his grasp and into Karaku’s, who laughs wickedly at the way you smack against his chest like a sack of potatoes, and then try your best to grasp his shoulders. you wanted to regain some semblance of control over yourself, find your footing, but he wasn’t having it. both fists grasp your wrists and pull them back. your knees buckle with a gasp of pain, and you’re once again supported only by a demon’s will, and his hold on your arms. you dangle there, clenching your weak fists. “‘M… going to…”

Karaku’s emerald gems light up, “You’re going to what? Kill me?” you didn’t have to nod, but you do so weakly, and he leans close. only inches from your lips, his fiery breath washes over you. you shy away from a demon for the first time in your life, letting out a soft whimper, “You’re not going to do anything, girl, but let me tell you what we’re going to do to you.”

as Karaku speaks, his lips moving and grazing your cheek the closer he gets, you feel the ground shake beneath you when Urogi lands behind you, talons cracking rocks beneath his powerful feet.

“We’re going to rip this demon killing uniform off,” Urogi’s claws work diligently to make good on his counterpart’s promise, shredding the fabric of your top, down through your pants until the black garments fall away in defeated, little strips. Karaku croons yo you, in amusement, “it’s not like it’s useful, anymore. Your demon killing days are over.” you let out a grunt of discomfort, feeling the drag of his talons against your stomach, biting at your vulnerable flesh. “But your demon serving days? Well, those have just begun.”

“— And we’ll defile your defenseless, human body.” Karaku flashes insanely sharp teeth in a daunting grin as Urogi finishes his threat, his talons grasping your thighs to hoist them up. your feet, that were dragging against the ground prior to this not sweep from the ground, and dangle helplessly as he spreads your legs. completely exposed to the one thing you were meant to hate in this world, the thing you’ve trained your whole life to kill, you felt disgusting and shameful, and your thighs twitched and fought against his strength to close. “Until it all but gives out.”

Karaku takes one look at your cunt as it’s presented to him, and a low gurgle of lust rumbles in his throat, dropping your hands to, instead, jab two fingers inside abruptly. you cry out and immediately grapple at his arm with one hand, trying to pull his hand out, while the other grabs for his horn and forehead, pushing with all your might, squirming and writhing, but you’re trapped. “Stop—!!” but Karaku’s guffawing drowns out your weak demand. his fingers are thick and rough as they pump into your unprepared core, though the rough treatment coaxes your arousal to life, encouraging you to soak his knuckles as he scissors them inside you. pressing his calloused fingertips against your inner walls, he can feel them spasm and tighten.

“Tighter than I expected,” his voice is a low, raspy growl as his fingers work relentlessly inside you, pummeling over delicate nerves. you can’t help but pant and groan, but you try to steel your glare, and push him off. “Your little Hashira buddies haven’t fucked you out yet?” his digits spread, testing the elasticity of your insides, and you moan, haplessly. “All those muscles and no brains. They promote a useless, little piece of fuck meat and don’t even take advantage?”

Urogi giggles from behind you, his lips close to your ear as he hisses. “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of that.”

Karaku, using his free hand to retrieve his cock, wraps his fist around the girth and pumps it to life at the same velocity with which he finger fucks you, and his fangs peek out against his bottom lip as he bites down on it, moaning low and guttural. “I broke her down, so I want to fuck her first.”

Urogi had been taunting you, kissing at the shell of your ear, whispering threats and excitedly watching you jerk and squirm to get away from him, but when Karaku says this, he pauses. you can feel the air behind a powerful grit of his teeth, as if Karaku’s claim annoyed him. “We broke her together—“

“Shut up,” Karaku waved off his counter’s nagging, grasping his ready cock at the base and guiding between your thighs. replacing his fingers with his cock was a sudden switch, and a size difference your body wasn’t prepared for. “I’m already in.” your eyes widen, your nails scraping at his horns and his face as he forced his way inside you. your walls spasmed and fluttered around the intruder, clamping down, instead of trying to push him out, and your back arches. the movement was intended to bring you a moment of reprieve, and shove him out of you, but the curve of your body only gives him the room he needs to slide hilt deep.

“F—fuck!” you exclaim; you can’t help it. the force behind his nesting is almost too much to bear, and you grind your teeth, glaring up at him weakly, with your thighs trembling. Urogi’s claws dig into them, blood beading to the surface as you struggle. “Y—you despicable, vile… uh!!” you were just about to make your stand, demand he pull out of you or else you would find a way to kill him with your bare hands, but his hips rocked suddenly. back and forth, falling into a rough and hungry pace that had you scrambling for breath, your feet flopping in the air. “Y-you can’t…!!”

Karaku howls with pleasure, both of his hands now wrapping around your throat, instead, a wild and primal look in his wide eyes. his lips are etched into a permanent, open mouthed smile as he fucks you with reckless abandon, cackling and crowing as he does so. “Aha! It’s been such a long time since I’ve had tight, warm human cunt!” his thumbs press against your windpipe, teasing it closed until you’re clawing at his wrists, gurgling pleas to breathe. it was hard to focus on anything but the lack of oxygen, and yet the sound of your squelching and the smack of his balls against you pounded in both of your ears. “It’s good,” his tongue flicks at his teeth, his breaths coming out in ragged breaths, “the more I choke you, the tighter your cunt squeezes me!”

Urogi was smiling again, his eyes flickering down to the join of your bodies to watch Karaku’s cock slide in and out at a rapid pace. if he zeroed in, he could see your entrance clench down on him, as if to keep him anchored within you, and he chortles low, nipping at your earlobe. “It almost seems like she likes it, listen to how wet she is. Choke her harder, I want to see her cheeks turn purple.”

you shake your head, fervent, “D-don’t!!”

you didn’t want them to hear how your body betrayed you, how it spat and sputtered, grateful to be decimated with demon cock, but even that scream sounded less reluctant. your sounds were changing, twisting from protest to pleasure, and you couldn’t stop it. the tighter the demon gripped your throat, the more pleasure you derived from being taken against your will. the wetter you got.

Karaku’s brows knit together, focusing all of his energy into pounding deep, as he hissed through clamped teeth, “Cumming for you, little demon killer. Going to fill up that belly!”

you didn’t have time to process what his threat had been, because a few, forceful thrusts against your limit, his tip battering your insides, and he erupts with a wail, giving your neck one final, right squeeze that you thought for sure would crush your trachea. it doesn’t, somehow, and when his grip loosens, you choke on a massive influx of air, uttering a defeated, “N-no, not inside—“ though it was too late. you could feel his cum in your guts, much more than a human could produce, sloshing about as he continued. he didn’t pull out, or even slow his pace. dribbling white release out with every buck of his powerful hips, his climax only seemed to spur him to fuck you harder.

“Do you feel that, Hashira?” Karaku taunts, grabbing your hair at the roots to pull your head up, forcing you to stare deep into his eyes. every thrust pushes his release deeper into you, and you mewl and groan, “You’re full of demon cum.” your eyes roll around in your head when it shakes, but Karaku swipes his mouth over yours, tasting your kiss with his long, invasive tongue. “You’re my breeding bitch now.”

“Ours. We’re supposed to be sharing her, did you forget?” Urogi nagged, dropping one of your legs to free a hand. your toe scrapes against the ground, leg limply dangling, but you don’t have the energy to use it to fight back— all of your resistance Karaku had already fucked from your body. you assume, with Urogi’s shifting behind you, that he too was grabbing and readying his cock, and you groan at the thought of being handed off for this to happen again. if you had to satisfy them both, you would surely not survive this night. “Give me room.”

“She’s too tight,” Karaku barked, “give me a minute to open her up some more.”

Urogi snarls, and rubs the swollen head of his cock against the brutal fucking you’re getting, causing your eyelids to flutter as you try to look back at him. surely, he didn’t intend to force his way into the same hole at the same time?

“We’ll stretch her out together. I’m not waiting anymore, I want to break her, too.”

Urogi worms his way inside, spearing your elastic entrance and forcing you to stretch to not only accommodate Karaku’s brutality, but now Urogi’s cock, too. they were roughly the same size and shape, at least they felt that way, but the sensation of them rubbing together inside of you, bulging against your inner walls, was utterly maddening. you felt like you were being torn in half, or as if you were a rope in a vicious game of tug-of-war between the two demons. Urogi was just as eager and cruel as his counterpart, falling into a merciless rhythm opposite of Karaku, so as Karaku was retracting, Urogi was pounding deeper, keeping your limits brutalized with not a moment to recover.

it was difficult, at this point, to do anything short of blacking out. your eyes rolled around in your head, your mouth hanged open, drool leaking from the corners and mews and helpless babbling fell free. your body slumped, in between the two sturdy demons as they all but fucked right through you.

Urogi moans, much louder and huskier, breathing hot on your neck and in your ear. “She’s so much more receptive now that she’s been tenderized,” he takes a sharp inhale, his talons tickling your chin as he tilts your head back, instead, to smash his hungry lips against yours.

the kiss is wrong. rough and forceful, and you can’t fight it, so your mouth hangs open, gurgling quiet pleas for some sort of mercy. Urogi ignores them, and kisses you deeply, so deeply that you worry his tongue, that was prodding at every inch of your mouth, would eventually choke you as fiercely as Karaku had with his hands.

he breaks the kiss for a moment, to pull back and admire the broken expression on your bruised countenance, before he tilts his head. “You’re being ruined, you know? Turned into a mindless fuckdoll.” a wide grin teases his taut lips, “Your body is ours, demon slayer, to destroy as we please. To breed when we feel the need.” if you had any tears left, they would’ve streaked the dirt on your cheeks, but you couldn’t cry.

it felt too good.

“I’d… rather… die…” you breathe out, uneven and trembling, trying to hold on to what little denial you could still muster.

“Shut up, breeder.” Karaku chomped at your clavicle, sucking and biting, leaving his mark on you. “We’ll kill you if we get bored of stuffing your holes, but you won’t get that lucky for a good, long while.” Karaku was grunting again, speeding up, as he must’ve caught on the trail of a second orgasm, and you started to whine and whimper to punctuate each thrust. all of the stimulation— the rubbing against his shaft as Karaku pounded and the way you clench and milk the two cocks fighting for ownership of your pussy— must’ve pushed Urogi over the edge, because he dropped off along the way. coming undone and bucking his hips madly, whimpering with sordid delight as he kisses you again, his release joining Karaku’s and the load already inside as they cum together this time.

a strangled cry bubbles out of your throat, the pressure on your belly more than you’ve ever felt. you could feel a faint bulge, as if they’d inflated you like a balloon, as the excess that refused to fit seeps out between your legs, splattering on the ground underneath you. you could hold absolutely no more, and they both knew that, too. as if coordinated, they both release you, and you crumble to the ground on your belly, sliding off both of their cocks in the process. another eruption of their release oozes out from your abused cunt as you lay there, fucked out and weak.

“Look at you.” Urogi swoons, planting one claw on your arm to pin you in place, squatting down to your level. his cock swung in front of your face, still hard and smelling of your body. it made you dizzy, so you tried to look away, smearing your face in the dirt to escape. “You’re no soldier, girl. All of that training did nothing for your weak mind or your easily ruined body. Break your sword and feed you a couple of demon cocks, and your true purpose is revealed.”

you hear footsteps on the other side, and only a moment passes before Karaku grasps a fistful of your hair. you were familiar, now, with that terribly painful grip. and, upon jerking your head upwards, your open mouth is plugged by his cock, giving you no choice but to taste the cum that frosts it. it’s raw and musky, and your eyes roll back upon swallowing the taste, gurgling weakly. he laughs at this, pushing your head down to force it deeper. “Hanging off our cocks like a pathetic, human puppet.”

[buryustogether]

lilac - chapter 8 + epilogue

miguel o’hara x f!reader

summary: the walls are crashing down, and even spiderman can’t hold up an entire universe.

wc: 6k

warnings/tags: smut, kidnapping, universe collapsing, torture, filming, blood, blade violence, explosions, choking, falling off a building, love confessions, major character death, start-overs

If you closed your eyes hard enough, if you flooded your senses with your deep, treasured memories and blocked out everything around you, you were able to transport yourself back into last week. Last week, when Gabriella had crashed on the couch, and you and Miguel were lying in bed with chests heaving and sweat cooling across your necks. The bedside lamp was dim; the bulb needed to be changed. Outside, the city continued to thrive, churning and burning and spitting. But inside your bedroom, your hand clasped in his, the world was still.

He had rolled you over so that you lay on top of his broad frame, but he was still inside of you, soft and flaccid now that he’d finally chased his release - after giving you yours four times. You blinked tiredly, staring at nothing as you felt one of his long, thick fingers skimming over your back.

“I’ve been thinking,” you murmured against the warm, tan skin of his shoulder.

Miguel hummed, acknowledging your words. His fingers continued to graze across your skin, up and down, up and down.

“Obviously we’re… planning on staying together. For a long time. Right?”

Though he kept his eyes closed, his thick, full lips quirked upward into a smirk, allowing the tips of his fangs to poke into view. “Believe me, sweetheart,” he rumbled from deep in his chest. “I’m not letting you go anytime soon.”

His words stirred inside of you, like a new hope springing to life. “Well… we’re going to need to move. Someplace bigger, with more room. For all of us. And this city, Mig, it’s… it’s not safe.”

It was then that Miguel’s eyes opened, and that smile slowly disappeared from his lips. You felt your heart sink with them, like an anchor in your belly. “You’re talking about moving away?” he said. When you only lifted your head to look at him, chin resting on his sternum, he exhaled deep and moved his hand to begin carding through your hair. “I can’t leave, bebe,” he said softly. “You know why.”

Yes, you knew why. It was because he was Spiderman, and this was New York, the worst city in the country to live in. With criminals on every block and fires and shootouts and a sky so deeply and violently purple you’d never even known its true color.

Being a lover, a father, everything before and after and in between, was what made Miguel who he was. But that was only a part. That other half came from being a hero, from helping those who could not help themselves. Walking with a sense of pride in what he did, knowing that people had something to trust in.

And you knew he could never leave that.

So you swallowed thick and let the issue go. You sighed and wrapped your arms around his large, naked form, nestling your face into the soft, delicate spot where his throat met his chest. “Okay,” you said, and you felt him lean down to kiss the crown of your head. “I’d still like a bigger place, though. Your daughter can’t sleep on the couch forever.”

Miguel chuckled, wrapping a sinewy arm around your middle to keep you close while you both dozed off. “I think we can do that.”

You were suddenly brought back to the present when, behind the glass partition you were facing, the giant, hulking machinery moved a few inches before coming to a halt. The metal groaned and squealed, startling the little girl held tight against your chest. Gabriella was heavy, and your arms were beginning to grow tired, but you would hold her until the end of time, if you needed to.

The Alchemax viewing area was dim and dark in the corners of the room, illuminated only by the glow of the control panel to your right and the stark, white lights projected onto the molecular collider in the lab. It was a massive piece of machinery, built to withstand its own otherworldly power, armored and bolted to the ground should the walls and ceiling be blasted away into nothingness.

You turned slightly when the collider moved again, twisting and turning in on itself, and Gabriella released a small, pitiful cry against your shoulder. Twisting your expression into a sneer, you fixed the man at the control panel with the meanest look you could muster.

Doctor Octopus - Otto Octavius, a visionary genius turned terrorist after his mechanical arms took over his head - lifted his head slightly and let his shades slip down his crooked nose. In return to your harsh frown, he gave an apologetic expression that carried no genuinity whatsoever. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he said as one of his arms reached out to flip a few switches. “Just a few test runs.”

Shifting Gabriella’s weight to your hip, you glanced down and smoothed the girl’s hair from her face. She was still wearing her jacket that she would have put on at recess - they must have been watching the school, waiting for her to emerge from those brick walls so that they could snatch her up. Suddenly you were cursing yourself, wishing you could face your reflection in a mirror and shatter the glass with a fist. You could have been there. Could have made sure she was safe, she was secure.

Her being here was your fault.

And her being here meant something that made your veins turn to ice when you thought about it; they knew who Spiderman really was.

When the collider began to shift again, shaking the building slightly in its very foundations despite being here in the basement of the building, you turned your head to face Octavius again. “What exactly are you all planning to do with this thing?” you said, watching as he shifted across the control panel to reach a few buttons and scanners. “I heard it wasn’t ready for tests yet.”

“From who, darling?” he said, meeting your eyes over the rims of his shades. “A spider on the wall?” When you said nothing, averting your eyes to the floor, he hummed and continued on, allowing his mechanical arms to carry him over to a large monitor. His gloved fingers typed faster than you thought possible for a person. “Alchemax is playing a dangerous game with a toy they don’t understand. Tests mean nothing when dealing with a piece of the future like this. That Spiderman of yours told you about the multiverse, didn’t he?”

Told you about it. Explained it. Came from it.

Octavius raised a finger and beckoned you toward him. You hesitated, holding your breath, before silently padding across the observation area to stand behind him at the monitor. Squinting your eyes against the light, you watched as he gestured to a warping, live image of string-like animations repeating in a loop on the screen. “These,” he said, finger grazing along the lines, “are realities close within one another. They’re different, sure, but only in little ways. Someone’s eyes are a different shade. A grain of sand is misplaced a foot from where it landed. Again - little ways.” He used the touchpad of the computer to scroll outward, giving you a view of so many lines warping together it looked like almost an entirely colored screen. “And these are the realities within our grasp with the collider. Meaning -” he looked down at you - “every reality in the multiverse.”

You stared at the screen, hugging Gabriella to yourself tightly. One of those lines was Miguel’s reality. Where he was supposed to be.

As Octavius scrolled back in, you caught a glimpse of a line flickering and glitching, unlike the others. You stopped him. “That one,” you said, and he halted. “What’s that one?”

“Earth - 9193,” he said, his voice low and grave. He met your eyes, his gaze darker than it was just a moment ago. “Our home universe.” He gave a rather rueful smile as he watched your expression melt into one of confusion. “In our reality,” he explained as his mechanical arms set him - finally - on the ground, “there is no Spiderman. This city - it’s not supposed to get better. So imagine the universe’s bafflement when Spiderman from a different reality swoops in to save the day. It tries to expel him. Tries to correct canon events gone wrong. But it couldn’t. And so - it’s collapsing.”

“Collapsing?”

“Correct.” He paused and you both looked up when, overhead, there came a distant boom; the city falling apart at the seams. The building shook again and dust fell from the ceiling. To your surprise, he lifted one of his arms and shielded your head as it bounced off your shoulders and clung to your hair. “Call us selfish,” he said and lowered his arm again. “But my associates and I aren’t particularly fond of sticking around when the end comes around.”

You blinked a few times at the screen, feeling your heart skip a beat or twelve as you let his words sink in. Your universe - it was collapsing. That was what the glitches in the city had been. That was why Miguel’s apartment building had folded in on itself - it was because of him. No matter where he went, the glitches followed.

Because he was a virus here in your reality, and when viruses could not be expelled, the system would ultimately kill itself.

You clutched the little girl in your arms a bit tighter. “You’re… running away,” you murmured as Octavius fiddled with the monitor and its data. “You’re leaving us all here to die.” The words were barely able to clear your throat, barely able to keep themselves afloat.

He hummed in that way you noticed he did. “Running away wouldn’t be the correct term,” he replied. “Moreso… self-preserving.”

At that moment, the doors leading into the observation area were thrown open on their hinges to reveal the figures you had come to fear striding into the bay. You took three steps back as the Prowler slid down a railing and came to a smooth landing at Octavius’ side. “How are we looking, Doc?” he said as his purple, eye-lit mask dematerialized to reveal his face. His gaze was a touch crazier than you remembered it, bold and wild in a way that screamed danger.

Octavius’ cold, stony facade slid back into place as he adjusted his shades and rose, his mechanical arms lifting him off the ground. “Swimmingly,” he replied. “A few more tests, and she should be ready for lift off.”

“Perfect!” shouted Ferris abruptly, causing you to jump slightly. He clapped his hands and approached you as, behind him, Kraven hefted a news broadcasting camera onto his shoulder and began to fiddle with the settings. “Sorry to keep you waiting, babe,” said your ex as he approached you, taking two steps forward when you took one back. He showed off a disturbing, unnatural smile. “Had some loose ends to tie up.”

You sneered at him and turned, placing yourself between him and Gabriella. “You’re fucking insane, Ferris,” you hissed, inches from his sickening grin. “Taking me is one thing, but a kid? You’ve lost it, for real this time.”

“Big words, coming from you,” he said, tilting his head as the collider twisted and churned again. “Shacking up with a vigilante who crossed realities to dick you down.” He snickered to himself. “Listen, babe. That day when Spiderman - sorry, O’Hara - cracked my spine and broke my jaw and left me to suffer in that fucking alley, I realized something; why stick around in a dump like this when I can make like your little fuck buddy and squeeze myself into another dimension? Hell, why do I need you when I can just find another one of you who won’t screw me over?

“So I managed to get myself up. Crossed paths with these guys, told them…” He brought his lips close to your ear, so close you felt his breath fan across your skin. “I knew the identity of Spiderman.” He grinned again, drew back slightly to touch his forehead against yours. You would have smacked him, shoved him away, were you not still shielding the little girl in your arms. “I would say it’s not personal, babe,” he whispered. “But it is.”

Then his lips were smashed against yours, so roughly and ruthlessly you were flashed back to when you still lived with him, let him touch you, let him fuck you. He would always kiss you like this, like he possessed you, like he owned you. It only lasted a moment or two before he pulled back, forcefully plucked Gabriella from your arms, and handed her off to the Vulture, who was standing beside Octavius.

“Alright, boys,” he said as his mask materialized back over his face. “Let’s make a movie!”

Taking a few steps closer and backing you up against the glass partition of the observation area, Kraven hoisted the camera up and pointed it directly at you and Ferris. You found yourself frozen in place, petrified and staring back at your own reflection in the lens. His clawed hand came up to grip the back of your neck, and the other clapped over your mouth.

“Stick to the script,” he murmured in your ear, “and I’ll let the kid live.”

“Broadcasting to every system in New York,” said the hunter, then clicked a button and the camera and a light near the top flashed red. “...Now.”

Unbeknownst to you, across every screen in the city - televisions, phones, Times Square, everything - the broadcast crackled through and began to stream. There was not a soul in New York that was not watching.

Not one.

Ferris tilted his head at the camera in a way that made your stomach churn. Even behind his mask, you knew he was smirking and squinting his eyes in that way he did when he was playing coy. “Hello, Spiderman,” he said in a low, even voice. It sent chills crawling up your spine, made you struggle in his hold until his claws dug against your skin. “You and I have unfinished business, and it would be rude to leave hanging in the air - you know, before we both jump ship. You know where I am.” Behind you, the collider moved, and this time, it did not stop. A blast of energy exploded from the edge, shaking the building again. You stumbled slightly, raising a hand to clasp at his wrist over your mouth. “And just in case you need some incentive…”

You let out a small shriek when Ferris ripped you forward, sending you spinning around to face the camera. Before you could get anything out, he came up behind you like a vengeful apparition and grabbed your jaw, his claws digging into the soft skin of your cheeks. “Go on,” he murmured in your ear, just loud enough for the camera to pick up. “Cry for help. Cry for him.”

Against every ounce of willpower you had, because you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, you felt tears pooling in the corners of your eyes. Just a moment later, they spilled over, cascading down your cheeks and staining the fabric of his glove. Yet despite your tears, despite the silent sobs racking your body, you refused to speak.

Ferris dug his claws into your cheek further, drawing a few dots of blood and pinpricks of searing pain. “Come on,” he whispered against the shell of your ear. “Beg for him.”

Your eyes turned behind the camera, where the Vulture held Gabriella’s collar in a grip tight enough to pale his knuckles. She stood beside him like a confused puppy, tear tracks staining her face as she watched you. And you knew you couldn’t do this alone. Not with her here. Not with Ferris.

“Spiderman,” you breathed, then cried out when Ferris yanked your hair to expose your neck and poise a claw over your throat. It gleamed in the light that the collider was throwing about the lab, shaking and burning out energy.

“Ah-ah,” he tutted. “His real name.”

You didn’t have time to mull over the realization that you were going to expose his identity, didn’t have time to think about that, really, it wouldn’t matter, because your reality was tearing apart, anyway. Blood collected on your cheek where his claws dipped in, and pain seared through your face.

“Miguel!” you finally wailed, feeling your tears mix with the scarlet. “Mig, we need you - please! He has Gabriella. I need you, please, Mig, I need you!”

With a grunt, Ferris spun you to the ground, then stalked forward and grasped the camera by the lens. “Come and get your girls, O’Hara. Alchemax. You have until the universe collapses. Or, you know…” He trailed off as his mask tilted downward toward you. “I decide to let one of them go a little early.”

You found yourself sitting against the row of desks holding computers, cradling Gabriella to your side as you watched Ferris and the rest of the vigilantes watch the collider charge, murmuring amongst themselves. You heard the words ‘sensors’ and ‘turrets’ and ‘muzzle for those teeth’ and ‘dead before he hits the ground.’ They had planned for Miguel, were waiting for him.

Gabriella murmured your name - the first thing she’d uttered since you both had been brought here - and you at once looked down. She clutched onto your dress, her cheeks stained with tear tracks and her chest rising and caving with deep, panicked breaths. “Is Daddy going to come and save us?” she whispered.

Doing your best to shove down the dread, and sorrow, and grief hanging suspended in your throat, you put on your best wobbling, warped smile and brushed her hair back from her face. “Yeah, sweetheart,” you replied quietly, just barely audible over the sounds of the collider. You sniffled, holding her closer. “He’ll be here any minute.”

It couldn’t have been just a few minutes later when, from the corner of your eye, you saw one of the computer screens jump to life. You thought it to be chance, a touchpad disturbed by the constant shaking and rattling of the building, but then images began to flash across the screen. You turned your head and realized they weren’t images, but letters. Words - being typed out across the monitor.

Letter by letter, your name was spelled out. The cursor blinked for a moment before everything was deleted. Then -

H E R E.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you leaned forward. The word was typed again, this time in bold. Then in italics. The computer - no, someone behind it - was beckoning you forward. With a few words of reassuring nonsense in Gabriella’s ear, and a quick glance to make sure the men were still distracted, you crawled on your hands and knees along the row of computers. Sitting up on your heels, you faced the dim screen.

Hesitantly, you whispered, “Hello?”

The word disappeared, soon replaced by another. L Y L A.

Lyla - Miguel’s AI. A surge of hope flooded through you like a tidal wave, filling your veins, your heart, your soul.

H E I S C O M I N G.

You exhaled, blinking at the screen. Then -

D U C K.

Your body reacted before your mind even had a chance to catch up. The entire world seemed to move in slow motion as you scrambled to your feet, grabbed Gabriella and huddled behind the desk - just moments before the back wall blew outwards in a ground-shaking eruption. The glass partition shattered and the collider shrieked as debris rained upon the observation area like hail from a hellstorm. A chunk of rock sliced across your cheek, letting pain rip through your face and blood spill down your face.

Like a train unable, unwilling to stop, to keep from plowing into the first thing it saw, a flash of red and blue came tearing from the site of the explosion and collided with the purple figure of the Prowler as he struggled to his feet. They went sprawling across the rubble-covered deck, only separated when a mechanical arm grabbed the back of Spiderman’s leg and hurled him across the room.

He caught himself and landed in a striking pose - then his mask dematerialized, and Miguel’s scarlet eyes raised to the men before him. He opened his mouth, exposing those long, glinting teeth, and released an animalistic snarl that froze the blood in your veins. His hair was mussed and the lines beneath his eyes seemed deeper than before. His hands, his claws, practically trembled with the rage and fury radiating off of him in waves. In that moment he was truly more beast than man.

You shielded Gabriella’s eyes as he snapped, standing again to his full height.

“About time,” said Ferris behind his mask, then readied his own steel claws. “Let’s settle this once and for all - Spiderman.”

The next few moments were blurs of violence, of villains with metal limbs and wings and a thirst for blood all came down to assault Miguel where he stood. He was a whirlwind of action, taking blows and giving them back in a tempo you knew was not humanly possible. His teeth sank into skin. His claws tore through muscle. He roared and thrashed and fought for everything he had, because life outside may have been falling apart, but his entire life was right there inside that observation bay.

Bits of light poking through the still-settling dust from the explosion drew your eye away from the nauseating fight, pulling your attention to the place where the door used to be. Flickering from the corridor - the exit.

Gripping Gabriella’s hand so tight you knew it ached, but you didn’t care, you brought your face close to hers so that she could look into your eyes. Blood still seeped down your cheek, now staining your collar and your neck. “Listen to me,” you said to her, just audible over the sound of her father snapping one of the Vulture’s wings in half. “We’re going to run, okay? And we’re not going to look back. You hold my hand and don’t let go. Just like we practiced with the drills at school, alright?”

She nodded her head, and then you were off. You ducked your head as a piece of technology sailed past, tugging the little girl along over rubble and through the shattered doorway. From there you took the first stairwell you found, listening as the sounds of the battle grew more and more faint. Up and up you went, until you reached a heavy metal door that you shoved open with all your might. Gusts of wind rushed in to greet you, whipping your dress skirt about, whispering about your fate in your ears, and when you reached the roof, it seemed that, really, they were right.

New York was no longer recognizable. It had turned into a hellsite of glitches and chaos, entire streets folding in on themselves before completely vanishing. You nearly screamed upon realizing Harlem, Queens, Brooklyn… they were all gone. From this height you could see past where the river was supposed to be, but instead it was all… nothing. There lay a vast, wide nothingness, like a blank canvas. No ground. No buildings. No people. Everything, just… erased from existence.

Panic rose in your throat like bile, pulling you to your knees and fresh tears to your eyes. It was all true - your reality was collapsing in on itself. All those people, gone. And soon, you would be, too.

It was a long moment before you realized Gabriella was tugging on your hand, attempting to pull you further along the roof as she kept her terrified gaze trained on the door to the roof - until it was too late. You both shrieked as the Prowler emerged from the frame, his suit ragged and torn, stained with blood and his mask vanished. Scarlet ran down his face, same as yours, as he approached you on the roof.

“You want to know something funny, babe?” he said. The last word, that awful pet name, was rasped through clenched teeth as he stalked you, taking his time even as you scrambled to the edge of the building, because you both knew - you had nowhere to go. “I wasn’t really going to kill you in that alley. Just wanted to scare you, ‘ya know?” His face dropped. “Now I really wish I had.”

In a moment, Ferris had pounced, rolling you over and over yourself on the roof of Alchemax, his clawed hands tight around your throat and his knees on either side of your waist. No matter how much you struggled, how much you kicked and screamed and wailed and bucked, he refused to let go.

How ironic, came a quiet, barely-there voice. Even while it dies, the universe is attempting to fix itself.

As tears blurred your vision, you shifted your gaze to Gabriella, who watched the life being strangled from you with wide, petrified eyes. To Gabriella, who suddenly clutched at her stomach, her lips parting. To Gabriella, who, slowly, like a channel stuck on a loop slowly fading out, began to dissolve into a reality-splitting glitch.

To Gabriella, who was there one moment, and gone the next.

For a moment, you stopped your struggling. You stopped trying to grasp at Ferris’ own throat, stopped your kicking and howling. You just lay there, feeling the life drain from you slowly, staring at the spot that little girl had been just seconds ago.

You would have cried, could you have breathed. You would have screamed, could you have breathed.

You would have died inside - could you have breathed.

“Isn’t this romantic?” panted Ferris over you as his hands tightened their grip on your throat. “The two of us, going out together? Like we were always meant to?”

You knew he would have killed you then and there, had you both not heard the thundering, storming, ground-shaking thuds pounding up the stairs leading to the roof. Footsteps. A body being slammed into the walls as they ran. An ear-splitting, heart-skipping roar of your name.

Ferris let out a long, trembling, exasperated groan before he yanked you up by the neck, hauled you over to the edge of the building, and held you out like a lure over a lake. Your hands, your nails, scrabbled at his wrist as you looked down the best you could, watching as people stories and stories below scrambled for cover before glitching out of existence. Your legs dangled, your hair blew in the wind.

This was it. This was how you bit it. Not from strangulation or being winked out of your reality - but from a drop that would hit you before you knew what had happened.

Slamming out onto the porch in a frenzy of raw, untamed, wild fury, Miguel skidded to a stop and began to lunge at the Prowler - before he laid eyes upon your form at the end of his arm. His gaze searched wildly for his daughter, for his Gabriella, before it met yours. Before it took in the tears spilling down your face.

“Don’t you see what you’ve done to us, O’Hara?!” said Ferris, flexing his fingers around the column of your neck - the only thing keeping you from plummeting. “What you’ve done to our world?! Can’t you just leave us this last bit of ourselves before we all kick it? Can’t you just leave us alone?”

Miguel began to pace on the rooftop, edging closer and closer with each step. “I can offer you a bargain,” he said, but his voice came out more snarl than word. “Give her to me and I send you home. To a different home, one just like this. You’ll never know the difference.” His tone dropped. “You’ll think you’re in the real thing.”

Your legs were beginning to go numb, your fingers clawing at Ferris’ wrist losing feeling. One hand dropped to your side.

Ferris shook his head, sneering at him with all the hatred left in this collapsing, dying universe. “You already took my world,” he said. “So I’ll take away yours.”

And suddenly you were falling. Released from his grasp, because in the split moment after he let you go, his body glitched and jumped and disappeared. But you were still there, plummeting toward what remained of the earth below you.

You didn’t think it would be so fast.

Craning your neck against the wind screaming in your ears, against the sight of the Alchemax building beginning to crumble as it, too, succumbed to the fate of all else, you watched as that familiar suit of red and blue jumped off after you. Extended his arm. Released a web that, you thought, wouldn’t get there in time.

But it did. The webbing clung to your chest, pulled taut, buoyed you like a bungee cord as Miguel stuck himself to the side of the building that was still standing. He slowly lowered you to the ground, then began the descent himself.

You stood. Extended a hand to him as he raced toward you.

Then fell as you lost the feeling in your legs, lost what it was to be still.

Miguel caught you before you hit the ground, skidding to his knees and gracefully pulling you into a cradle in his lap. “Hey, baby, hey,” he said in a strained, strangled voice. Red stained his temple, the crooked bridge of his nose. “Hey, I’m here. I’m right here.”

You realized then that you were crying again, letting sobs and wails rack your body, because you knew what was happening. You knew it because everything else of this world, of this reality, had vanished. Ceased to exist. It was just him, and you, and the sky overhead. Nothing else. And soon, you would be gone, too.

“Miguel,” you gasped, reaching up a shaky hand to paw at the side of his face. “Gabriella - I tried. I really, really tried, I’m sorry -”

“Shh, baby, I know. I know you did.” Through the wetness in your eyes, through the sensation of your lower portion becoming static and fuzz, you watched as tears pricked at his own eyes. They trickled from the corners, mixing with the grime and blood on his face, and he did not wipe them away. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

You cried and clung to him, desperate to hold onto the feeling of him. Of his hand cradling the back of your neck. Of his lips against yours. Of his body on your own. Of his laughter against your skin, and his fingers trailing across your back, and the warmth that spread through your chest when he smiled at you.

God, that smile. What you wouldn’t do to see it again.

“I don’t want to die, Mig,” you said, your voice wavering. You’d forgotten the feeling of your waist, of your belly. They were foreign to you. Glitched out. Going. Gone.

You did not jump when Miguel opened his mouth and released a stifled sob, his warm, salty tears dripping onto your face. “I know,” he shushed you through his own cries. “It’s going to be okay, alright? I’m right here, baby. I’m right here. You’re going to be okay.”

Arms dropped. Your chest stilled.

“Hey,” you said, nudging your nose against his when he leaned down to press his lips against your temple. He met your eyes, his forehead pressed against yours. “Look.” Your gaze tilted upward, upward, to the sky. He followed it. “No smoke.”

You were right. Without the buildings to churn out smog, without the people to feed the machines, without the universe to choke itself out… the sky had cleared. And it was not violet, or plum.

It was lilac.

Miguel dipped his head again, his lips quivering as you stared up at him. “I love you,” he said.

You would have said it back - were you not already gone.

He stared at his now-empty arms, eyes trained on the spot beneath him you had just been. There was no trace left. Nothing left behind, nothing to tell him you had even been there.

For a long, long moment, Miguel sat still, his chest heaving and his eyes wide and his lips parted. Then he dropped to all fours, shoulders shaking and knuckling the ground, and opened his mouth to scream. It was a wail heard in every corner of the empty universe, a cry that shattered everything of the nothing left. Filled with agony, and grief, and horror, and guilt. Again and again he screamed, fangs glinting and tears gleaming and throat hoarse.

When he at last could not take any more, he collapsed onto his side. Hands twitching. Chest shaking.

Nothing.

For a long while in that empty universe, it was still. Silent. Lilac.

Then, from behind Miguel, there came a voice. “Hey, boss,” said Lyla gently. “Ready to go home?”

—

Earth - 2943

New York

Roses, peonies, lilacs, irises… the bundles of flowers crowded your workstation at the back of your store like a wildflower field had grown right in the middle of the little shop on seventy-first. Greens and pinks and yellows and oranges filled your windows. Petals littered the floor like a chapel. Living walls carefully and lovingly-kept occupied the sides, a rainbow display of every flower and blossom one could name.

Your little flower shop was doing well - and you couldn’t have been more proud. You lived alone in your apartment just upstairs, your rent was on time, you didn’t have to work a second job at all to keep yourself fed.

Everything was perfect. As it should have been.

Your attention was drawn to the front of the store when the little bell above it chimed, signaling someone had just entered your shop. “One second!” you called around the corner, hurrying to clip off the remaining thorns from the blossoms. “I’ll be right there!”

When you were finished, you wiped your hands off on your apron, gathered the bunch of flowers up in your arms, and swept around to the front room. There, a man and a little girl - his daughter, no doubt, they looked almost identical - stood admiring the displays you’d set out just last night.

“Good morning!” you greeted them, carefully setting the bundle down. “Can I help you find anything?”

Brushing a bit of hair from your face, you were able to see the man more clearly. Your breath hitched in your throat; you were staring at the one of the best looking men you’d ever seen. Tan skin and cheekbones placed high on his face, full brows and lips, a sinewy body and a tapered waist… he was beautiful.

The man smiled at you - with his lips closed, but nevertheless it was gorgeous - and jutted out his hip to place his hand on. Oh, fuck, that was hot. “Just browsing,” he said kindly.

You found yourself unable to pull your gaze away from him. You could not say precisely what it was, but there was something that drew you to him. Like a magnet between walls, almost, yearning and needing to be closer.

When he realized you were staring, he smiled wider.

“Heh - sorry,” you said, shaking your head. You leaned over your counter as he meandered closer, letting his daughter marvel at your flowers. Up close, you were able to see the tired, exhausted lines beneath his eyes. “It’s just… have we met before? There’s just something about you…”

Unbeknownst to you, because he could never let you know, could never let you go… you had met before. In a different universe. In seven, to be precise. He had met you as a teacher, a stripper, a doctor, a thief, a hero, a villain… He’d seen you in every form your soul had to offer. And he would continue to do so. Because he wasn’t going to let you go.

Not then. Not now. Not ever.

He chuckled, his free hand reaching up to touch the delicate skin of his throat. “No, I don’t think so. First time in here.” He tilted his head, smiled at you. “But… I wouldn’t mind getting to know you better.” Then, like every other time before, and every other time that would come after, he stuck out his hand and said, “I’m Miguel. You are?”

tags: @mooomeadows @twentysomethingwereyote @screamforyani @fangirlreice7 @axdjelx @ornamentalnecromancy @faust-pda @ilikethemoon28 @mrm-pachypoda @wadafrick @natthernandez @bakgoktski @soupsexsunsalutationsss @roxannarichie @lovagirlxxx @soggyeyeballsss @yoyoyoyoyo55555 @sophipet @quaintii @lavnderluv @cookiezxx @euphorica @its-a-polyglot @nicalysm @maxi-ride @exzidss @crappwr0m @femme-is-dead @bitch-onthemoon @hier—soir @takayomi @kirke-is-my-name @d1lf-loverrr @might-be-a-rat @brooks-lin @maki-z @bookfreakk @act1839 @dollscircus @sleepingaway @anxietybutterfly @bioticboot @mxkn @freeingrebels @digitalcreature404 @aimee777 @hunnaye @blahbahed @cyanide-mustard @impettywhenyouare @mental-illness-is-my-friend @bobfood @jenniferdixon05207 @moonchild-cupcake @venomous-ko @marvelouslovely-barnes @syarblu @fruitcupsworld @soooooyesbutactually-no @hopefulcandywitch @elwyn7 @oh-theseus @thepanwiccan @takayomi @dreamingofbucky @yuuuumii @p1nkliquor @scammer-get-scammed @mlishe

[xxsabitoxx]

How the Pillars react to your death

Important note: all of these deaths occur during the infinity castle arc, heavy and implied spoilers. Rengoku’s reaction to your death takes place before Mugen Train! Reader’s gender is unspecified.

Warnings: this post contains spoilers for the final arc of the manga. This includes implied spoilers for various characters. Please do not read this if you don’t want to be spoiled and don’t blame me if you go ahead and read it anyways lol

A/N: I wrote this whole post in my head while showering last night and I’m honestly offended it took me 3x as long to actually write it.

Giyu 

“CAWWW! DEAD! KOCHO SHINOBU AND L/N Y/N ARE DEAD! THEY DIED AFTER A CONFRONTATION WITH UPPER MOON TWO!” Giyu’s body comes to a screeching halt, Tanjiro shooting past him before falling to his knees as violent sobs wracked his body. Giyu, on the other hand, is frozen in place, a sob stuck in his throat. Shinobu’s death was a punch to the gut, but you? For the first time since Sabito had died, Giyu felt tears burning at the back of his eyes. Yet, nothing would come out, those tears wouldn’t break the barrier and slip down his cheeks. His tight throat would not let the sob escape. There was no possible way you were gone, you promised him you’d be okay. Though, childish beliefs like that reminded him of his own faults. Once again, he couldn’t protect the people he cared about. Rather than wallowing in sudden grief, he began moving again, past Tanjiro who was struggling to get back up. He needed to keep moving, if he didn’t stop, he was certain he would collapse entirely and never get up again. He couldn’t let your sacrifice go to waste. 

Shinobu 

Her feet barely hit the ground, body manoeuvring through the endless castle with one destination in mind. “CAWWW! DEAD! L/N Y/N IS DEAD! THEY DIED AFTER ENCOUNTERING UPPER MOON TWO!” She stumbles, shock hitting her like a bucket of ice water being dumped over her head. Her mind is racing, not willing to believe what the crow had just said to be true. You had steered away from the plan. In a desperate attempt to save Shinobu’s life you tried to defeat Upper Two yourself. Hot, angry tears are spilling down her cheeks, hand clutching her heart as she tries to understand. “Why would you do this? Why wouldn’t you take my word for it and go with Tomioka? Look what you did… you went and got yourself killed,” Yet again, Upper Two had taken something precious to her. One word flashed through her mind, alongside your beautiful face. Revenge. She would get her revenge, not only for Kanae, but for you. “Don’t worry, my love. I’ll be with you soon.” 

Rengoku 

It’s quiet, too quiet even. You should be back by now, the sun has fully risen. Kyojuro’s heart is hammering in his chest, doom creeping up his spine. He has an unshakable bad feeling about your late arrival. His worst fears are confirmed when your crow arrives without you. “No…” breathless, as if all the air is being ripped from his lungs. “Don’t say it…” his knees are giving out as your crow lands on the wooden porch. “T-they’re gone…aren’t they?” he chokes it out, the words are as bitter and burning as bile. Your crow only caws, soft and full of sorrow, unable to share the proper message as Kyojuro begins to sob. He’s curling in on himself, crying so loudly but unable to hear it due to the intensity of the ringing in his ears. It’s a panic attack manifesting in the most intense form. He can’t fathom a world without you, nevermind having to live in one. Senjuro is rushing to his brother's aid, seeing your crow gives him more than enough information to know as tears well in his eyes. 

Tengen

He’s kneeling dutifully outside of Nezuko’s room, Shinjuro by his side. His wives are inside, too stubborn to sit out and not help at all. Their excuse being that Nezuko saved his life, they owe her the same kind of protection now. You on the other hand, were too determined, leaving your retirement to fight the battle against the demon lord himself. Nothing Tengen nor his wives said could convince you to stay on the sidelines. His heart is sinking the moment your crow appears in the distance, he’d recognize it anywhere. “N-no… don’t you dare…” Tengen’s voice is cracking as it lands, Shinjuro is turning his head the other way, knowing what is to come. “Don’t you dare say they are dead…” his voice is rising in his panic, he knows the answer. The commotion has Makio, Suma and Hinatsuru running outside. The moment Hina’s eyes land on your crow, a violent sob escapes her chest, falling to her knees as Makio and Suma come to the same conclusion. “T-they’re dead…aren’t they?!” Makio sobs, Tengen can’t raise his head as your crow delivers your final message. 

Mitsuri 

She’s frozen in place as a crow comes directly for her, fear is ebbing through her body, a cold sweat forming on her brow. She knows the message before the crow can even utter it. “No! Go back! I don’t want to hear it!” Obanai is frozen beside her, grabbing her arm so she doesn’t collapse. The crow circles around her, cawing woefully as she begins to cry. “I-I don’t want to know! Don’t tell me!” she’s hiccupping as Obanai tries to pull her forward, they need to keep moving. “Mitsuri…” his voice is surprisingly soft, the crow is still circling overhead. “We need to hear the message…” she shakes her head, hands coming up to cover her ears as tears slip down her cheeks. The crow caws again, Obanai signals for it to deliver the message. “CAWWW! L/N Y/N IS DEAD! THEY DIED AFTER AN ALTERCATION WITH UPPER MOON ONE!” The crow continued on about who lived and who died, what was important is that upper moon one was dead. That didn’t matter to her though, no she couldn’t even hear the rest of the message over the ringing in her years. Mitsuri let Obanai tug her along, they needed to keep moving at whatever the cost. 

Muichiro 

“CAWWW! L/N Y/N IS DEAD!” He keeps running, uncertain as to why he feels a tightness in his chest at the crow’s message. “THEY DIED DURING A CONFLICT WITH UPPER TWO!” He’s still moving, more so concerned over his unexpected and overwhelming sadness. Why am I sad? I don’t even remember that name… but then your kind smile is flashing before his eyes and the world is crashing down around him. He comes to a screeching halt, eyes wide as he finally pieces together the message. “y/n…” how could he ever forget? Before he realizes it, he’s sniffling. Tears blur his vision for a moment before he blinks them away. He begins to move again, the sadness gripping his chest is slowly fading, fading until he can’t even remember why he got teary eyed in the first place. He needs to remember the task at hand… where was he heading again? 

Obanai

The flapping of wings catches him off guard, head craning upwards as the crow begins to caw. The noise is full of sorrow, which can only mean it bears bad news. “Obanai…” Mitsuri is watching the animal circle above them, her heart pounding erratically at the endless possibilities of the message it may share. “CAWWW! L/N Y/N IS DEAD! THEY DIED IN BATTLE AGAINST UPPER MOON ONE!” Obanai’s feet are slowing, hitting the floor beneath him with a little too much force as the message rings through his head over and over. “N-no… oh… Iguro I…” Mitsuri is crying, staring at the man beside her as the world seems to cave in on him. It’s as if everything is in slow motion for a few beats in time. The words the crow uttered felt foreign, your name paired with ‘dead’ didn’t make any sense in his mind. It was impossible really, there was no way you were dead. You had gone to face Upper One with Gyomei, Sanemi, Muichiro… four hashira against upper One and you didn’t make it? You were so strong… no the message can’t be correct. “Kanroji… let’s keep moving.” he’s turning it off, every swelling emotion is being suppressed as he takes off again. Mitsuri is left with no choice but to wipe her tears and follow. 

Sanemi

Upper Moon One is standing before him, Gyomei at his side. This battle needed to be won, if not, everything would be lost. The demon before him needed to be put down, there was no other option. He’s talking, but he couldn’t be bothered to listen. Rather, Sanemi is gauging every vital point he can strike and how to go about doing it. “CAWW! I BRING A MESSAGE!” he doesn’t glace up, nothing that crow could say would be able to break his focus. “L/N Y/N IS DEAD!” except for that. Sanemi inhales deeply, eyes widening significantly as he debates on if he heard the message correctly. “THEY DIED DURING AN ALTERCATION WITH UPPER MOON TWO! UPPER MOON TWO IS NOW DEAD!” it feels as if all the air in the room had been sucked away with the crow’s flapping wings. Upper One no longer seemed smug about the message after the addition of Upper Two being defeated. Beside him, Gyomei is crying. Sanemi doesn’t realize it, but so is he. He’s oblivious to the hot, angry tears rolling down his cheeks. Still, his patience remains intact, waiting for Gyomei’s signal to attack the high ranked demon. Now, he has absolutely nothing to lose. Kagaya is gone, now you are gone, it is likely the rest of the Hashira wouldn’t make it out of this… he has nothing left to fight for. 

Gyomei “CAWWW! L/N Y/N IS DEAD! THEY DIED AFTER ENCOUNTERING MUZAN!” Tears flow freely as he fights, part of him wishes he hadn’t been able to hear the message in the first place. You had met the unfortunate fate of encountering Muzan himself. It was likely that you were alone, if you weren’t, you were likely the strongest in your group. It pained him, knowing you likely died a brutal death. That pain fueled his attacks, taking every ounce of heartbreak and despair out on the demon before him. You didn’t deserve that, nobody deserved a fate that cruel. He keeps moving, mind reeling yet completely focused. It’s as if he is fighting in a bubble, the world muffled around him yet perfectly clear all at once. Too many emotions are raging through his soul to really pinpoint just one of them. He can only hope you’ll wait for him on the other side, he can only pray you’re watching over him at this very moment. Guiding him, giving him strength. “I’ll meet you again soon, don’t worry. I promise I won’t keep you waiting much longer. Wait for me, please? You will, won’t you?”

[frostyhelltime]

I Said Don't Touch My Hair

Basically someone fucks with curly haired GN!Reader's hair and promptly finds out.

Characters Listed: Alastor, Vox, Lucifer.

Warnings: Violence, but it has Vox and Alastor being pissed off, so what did we expect?

Author's Note: I have really curly hair, 3A or 3B typically. And it frustrates me to no end when people just walk up to me and start touching my hair without even asking. Especially if I spent a lot of time making my hair look extra nice that day. So I got to thinking I wonder what the guys would do if someone approached their lover and did something like that?

If anyone wants me to do this for additional characters let me know. I just thought I would start with these three.

Also hope you like the graphics! I made them myself!

Alastor

It's a distinct possibility this person doesn't even get to lay a hand on you, actually. Ever cognizant and aware, especially when it comes to possible threats to you, he likely has this person on his radar before you do. He is the type of person that's typically five steps ahead of everyone else, and he prides himself on it.

It's during a pleasant stroll on the way to Cannibal Town to have tea and coffee with Rosie that some fool accosts you.

Rosie has been pestering him for the better part of a month to introduce his little paramour and he has finally given in because you were just as excited to meet one of his friends.

In fact you had been so excited you made sure to put extra care into your curls today, wanting to impress. He knew from you only partially jokingly berating Angel when he played with your hair that you didn't like it mussed up when you actually put serious effort into their appearance.

But he can't find it in himself to be annoyed or anything of the sort at the people he passes by when he sees your bright smile as you walk, arm in arm, together. He's also smiling as well, of course, but looking at you the smile turns more soft and genuine for a split second, a chuckle on the tip of his tongue about some joke you made when he sees some stranger's hand reaching for your curls.

Although his smile remains ever present, the scrunch of his nose and furrowing of his brow belay his true feelings.

"Ah ah ah. Don't you know it's improper to touch someone without their permission?" His voice rings out with a thicker layer of static, freezing the demon who stupidly hadn't even realized exactly whose arm you were on. He's annoyed at the way his voice takes on an extra edge of static as you turn around to face the poor soul who probably wasn't much longer for his world. He doesn't like that it could be apparent he's so annoyed. Oh well.

"How repulsive." He mocks, delighting in the clear terror they were feeling as they back up and away from you, as if that will save them.

"Don't worry though, my good fellow. It's a mistake I'll be sure you don't make twice. Someone has to teach you some manners, after all." His voice drops low, letting his form shift taller, antlers elongating and becoming more angular, neck craning forward and stretching to reach the man who was already attempting to run away, maliciously excited grin growing closer and closer.

You release his arm, knowing he'll be back once he's done. You also know he would be even more upset if your clothes got ruined by the blood of this poor uneducated sinner who he plans to teach some manners, and goodness knows the last thing this demon needs is another reason for Alastor to be mad at them.

With a twist and a rip of his claws, once, and twice, the sinner finds themselves violently robbed of their hands and begins blubbering for forgiveness. Alastor blinks at the pathetic creature and brings the hands closer to his maw. He swallows the two offending hands without even a second thought, tilting his head to look at the sinner quivering in delightful fear as if pondering what to do with him next. He takes another step forward and is about to continue when he hears your voice ring out.

"Alastor dear, we're going to be late. I'm sure he's learned his lesson. We don't want to keep Rosie waiting, do we?"

"Ah you're right. We can't be late, it's so impolite. I'm afraid I won't get to continue your lesson." He sighs and then tuts at the sinner frozen in fear, who is still unsure if he's actually going to get to live or not.

Alastor's eyes shift from yours to his prey and his claws give one final rip through flesh as if to punctuate his 'lesson', pulling open the demon's chest with practiced ease before he retreats.

"I hope you found my lesson on etiquette quite educational." Alastor chuckles to the man good naturedly, as if nothing out of the ordinary had taken place.

And with that he's rapidly returning to his normal form, his arm laced through yours again and he's continuing the conversation from before, mood brightening when you thank him and kiss his cheek for protecting you.

Vox

Vox doesn't even see the person coming. No one other than you tends to exist in his peripheral when you're together.

He had been planning awhile, wanting to really wine and dine you for your anniversary. Remind you how good it is to be with him and all the wonderful perks that come with dating the CEO of VoxTek! Of course you knew, but he liked to spoil you and remind you how good he is to you all at the same time and an anniversary was the perfect excuse. Which is also why you're extra dolled up, curls perfectly coiffed and a backless outfit with a cutout in the shape of, a V, of course to entice him for the time you'll spend together...after dinner.

You're listening half mindlessly and half focused as he talks. There's something just nice and relaxing about his ecstatic chatter and it never failed to make you feel at ease.

He's currently talking about his latest idea for a new show that he thinks will be a hit as you two walk, his arm resting on the small of your back on your bare skin. A subtle but possessive claim to you.

A claim that one poor idiot either doesn't heed or doesn't see.

Either way their hand is reaching for you and snags on your curls almost immediately, causing you to jerk back and yelp in pain, frustration and annoyance evident on your face. Though it compares little to the immediate upset it causes Vox.

You think he didn't mean to snag it, only wanting to feel it, though it doesn't much matter now what his intent was.

The guy doesn't even look remorseful since he doesn't seem to even think it's a big deal until he realizes Vox seems upset as well and then he's apologizing, but apparently it doesn't seem sincere enough for Vox.

The tall man quickly steps forward, barely needing to take any steps at all before he snatches the man's hand with sheer brute force, his other hand beginning to gently untangle your hair and pulling it out of this idiot's grasp. You found it such a funny contrast between the grips of his two hands that if you weren't so pissed you would have laughed. As soon as the man is untangled from you, Vox has him picked up and slammed into a wall, electricity crackling from him as he does, errant sparks burning the man's skin without Vox even trying.

"Listen here you piece of shit, do you have any idea who you just fucked with?" His eyes narrow, electric sparks growing bigger and hotter as he speaks. The man just shakes his head no, trying to apologize to try and save his own skin.

"Now, you're going to apologize to my sweeatheart and you're going to mean it." He growls, dropping the man down in front of you as carelessly as he would a sack of trash. Even belly down the man tries to scramble to get up and run but Vox's foot is pressing down and keeping him pinned before he can succeed.

"I'm running out of patience..." He warns, narrowing his eyes, and then the man is changing gears and giving his best attempt at as remorseful of an apology as he can muster.

You are pissed but take pity on the man, not letting his torment get more drawn out. You're certain Vox won't just accept an apology so you might as well let him get on with it, and not extend the suffering.

You kindly accept his apology as you continue to fix your hair.

As soon as the acceptance leaves your mouth though, the man has such a large amount of electricity shot through him so violently that he's almost glowing, a smoldering corpse left in the dust of the smoke that had arisen from the electric burns, which Vox steps over to check on you, making sure you're okay.

You are of course fine, and assure him as much and it seems to placate him a bit that you aren't actually hurt.

He hurls one last insult of "Prick" before he leaves, his hand gently on the bare skin of your back once again, although he pulls you closer than before so you walk almost hip to hip. He would certainly pay more attention to look out for any other idiots that thought they could get handsy with you tonight.

Lucifer

Another one who sees it before it's coming. He's always aware of everyone and everything when he's out with you. Dating the king of hell certainly had some perks! But it also came with a big fat target on your back. Although you never minded. You knew he was always looking out for you and wouldn't let anything happen.

It's part of why you never noticed anything amiss, you always felt so safe around him that you did sometimes let your guard down. It was easy when Lucifer was so sweet and goofy, even when he wasn't trying.

Needless to say, his hyper vigilance that most never noticed beneath the silly facade comes in handy now, his eyes catching someone approaching you from afar as he walks towards you but still too far away to hear anything they might be saying to you.

You were waiting for him, patiently as ever, to meet up for a date. You looked so beautiful, standing there and smiling down at your watch since you knew he would be there any minute now. It made him giddy just seeing you there.

But despite how far away he is, as soon as he sees them reaching for you, he's beside you in a flash, crossing the distance and using his cane to block their hand and push it away from you before it ever makes contact.

"Hey hey hey, what are you doing? That's so rude." He laughs, smiling at the man, who seems genuinely shocked to see the king of hell in front of him suddenly. He is smiling but there is an air of annoyance in his smile, as if he's trying to keep it casual and struggling. He's not unnecessarily violent, and usually just a casual signal that you were with him was enough to have people keep their distance. He's pretty confident the sinner will just turn and run.

"Lucifer!" Your happy voice chirps at him, only barely registering someone had been reaching for you, and clearly not even registering it as a threat now that he was here.

"Sorry I'm late. I...got distracted." He says sheepishly, shifting his attention from the sinner to you, especially since the sinner jumped back as if the cane had been made of pure fire, running off as quick as he can. But not before mumbling out a shakey "S-Sorry!" Seems Lucifer was right on that bet. He wouldn't have to worry about them bothering the two of you anymore, he's sure.

But you just smile and wrap an arm around his, clearly not the least bit annoyed by the interruption.

"...What does this new rubber ducky do?" You only halfway joke, having a pretty good idea what could have distracted him, and just as quickly his face changes from apologetic to excited. You smile seeing how his face changes; you were right on the money it seems.

"Shoots spikes like little pointy bullets!" He grins like a child excited about their latest toy, and he's guiding you now, away from this person who almost caused trouble if he hadn't been there in time.

"Ooo, after dinner can you show me? That sounds so cute!" You smile, leaning down to kiss his cheek.

"Although I know you don't need any spikes to save me, my king." You whisper to him teasingly, his face flushing just a little bit red at your playful use of his title as you headed to your date.

[mysaintkitten]

Stranger | Neil Lewis x fem!reader

prompt: you and neil make your own pornos (NSFW!! NO MINORS!!)

WARNINGS: NONCON ROLE PLAY, filming sex lol, unprotected penetrative sex (p in v), home invader/stranger role play, a bit of knife play, harsh/violent threats, degradation, slight dumbification, creampie

word count: 2.1k

neil, like most men, liked porn. but since getting into a relationship with you, his preferences towards porn had started to shift. prior to your relationship, he’d see you regularly roaming around gumshoe video, and when you handed in an application to work there his knees almost gave out from beneath him. pretty girl? that likes movies? who i’ll see daily? working for me? he had never felt so lucky. for a few months leading up to him building up the courage to ask you out, he’d deliberately search for pornstars that had similar features to you. it started off as kind of vague, but it developed into to him getting incredibly specific with the details. hair colour, eye colour, body type, any feature you can imagine, he was including it in his searches. it was almost a wake up call for him that maybe he should just bite the bullet and tell you how he feels before he loses his mind.

and to his surprise, he got you.

after getting to hold you, and touch you, and fuck you, he knew that he just couldn’t settle for any old porn anymore. when you were away and he was horny, he’d resort to jerking off to a picture of your just face, or sometimes he’d ask for you to call just so you can tell him about your day while he sneakily tries to get himself off to your voice without you knowing. but he eventually got bored, he wanted something different.

then he got the idea, why not make our own porno?

he mentioned the idea to you, and you were not as onboard with it as he was.

“neil .. i don’t know .. what if it gets leaked somehow?” you question, “i know, i know, it’s a bit scary, but i swear i’ll keep the camera locked and hidden away. no one will have access to it besides you and me. and if someday you want to destroy the camera and all the tapes, i’ll be more than happy to pass it over to you.” he replies softly, grabbing your arm gently.

you sigh, “alright, fine, i’ll try it.”, moments after those words leave your mouth neil is visibly excited. giving you a quick peck on the lips before scrounging around to find his camcorder.

you film your first tape that night, it’s soft, vanilla. it’s neil shakily recording himself fucking into you in missionary, occasionally bringing the camera up to your chest to show him gripping your tit or he would show your face while whispering small praises, some shit about how gorgeous you are or how pretty you look taking his cock.

filming those sweet little couple-like tapes are fun, but after you guys get a bit more comfortable with being on camera, you begin to indulge in a bit of role play. neil had the costumes, and he loved the idea of almost making a movie out of it, so when he heard you were into it he felt himself nearly getting hard at all the possibilities.

it starts off tame, neil pretending to be your boss (which, ironically, he technically is) and you being an employee that has to put in some special “work” for a raise, you dressed maid, bumping and grinding on neil while you scold him for being dirty, things like that. but tonight, you went into unmarked territory. at least for the two of you.

the camera is on a tripod beside the bed, showing you in bed “asleep”, with the bedroom door in clear frame behind you. as you sleep, a man dressed in all black with a ski mask creeps into your bedroom, a prop knife in hand. he sneaks over to you carefully before placing his hand over your mouth and bringing the prop knife to your neck, your eyes shoot open and your body jerks to sit up.

“scream and i’ll fucking kill you.” neil growls, gripping your face harshly. out of character he would’ve never handled you like this, he asked for your consent numerous times before you started filming and he wanted to be sure you were absolutely comfortable with everything he was going to say and do, and you gave him the clear.

you nod, eyes still wide, as you stare at him anxiously, he slowly pulls his hand away.

“sir, please, don’t hurt me, my boyfriend will be home any minute now.” you plead, he just laughs, “take what you want, just please don’t hurt me.” you add, putting on your best scared performance. he cups your face, running his thumb along your cheek, “oh, i’ll take what i want, sweetheart. your boyfriend can watch, too.” he groans, placing a firm smack across your cheek.

you quickly get up to try and run, but he grabs you and shoves you back onto the bed.

“please, sir, don’t hurt me!” you beg, slowly shifting backwards away from him on the bed, he just crawls on top of you and pins you down, bringing the prop knife back up to your neck.

“shut the fuck up.” he spat, using his free hand to aggressively tear away at your shirt, prior to filming you two had trial tested various shirts based off their ripping ability, and eventually you settled on one that tore apart like nothing. he releases a low chuckle at your bare tits, gripping them roughly with his cold hand. you whine, enjoying the feeling, but you play it off as fear, “stop, sir, please!”

you wriggle slightly beneath him, but he doesn’t budge, “pretty tits, huh .. what else on you is pretty, sweetheart?” he murmurs, moving himself down slightly so he’s sitting on your shins. he rips down your loose-fitting pyjama shorts, immediately exposing your pussy. he chuckles lowly again, bringing his thumb and index finger down to spread your lips apart. you continue to shift beneath him, but he’s ultimately unfazed.

“please, sir, stop!” you continue to beg, he just shakes his head and tosses the knife beside him, “if you want me to stop so badly .. why are you so wet then?” he taunts, slipping his middle finger between your folds, sliding your slick around before bringing the glistening digit back out. he brings it to his mouth and sucks off the wetness, groaning lowly at the taste.

“fuck .. tastes nice, sweetheart, be good for me and let me use that pretty little pussy of yours, yeah?” he purrs, sliding the ski mask off while palming himself, revealing a flushed neil with messy hair. all you can think about is how good he looks, but you continue to play your part.

you try and push him away, using minimal effort, “no, please! please don’t, sir!”

he drops the “nice” act and pins your arms down, “stay still and i’ll be gentle, keep fucking moving and i’ll abuse all your holes for as long as i fucking want.” he growls through gritted teeth.

your body freezes, terrified beneath him, he lets go of your arms, “my boyfriend .. he’ll be home very soon ..” you mumble, “you already said that, hun, are you stupid or something?” he laughs in your face, unbuttoning his pants and tugging them down,

“no, no, no!” you whine, attempting to push him off of you, “sh, sh. let him see. let him see what a dumb little whore you are, letting just anyone come in here and use this pussy as they please, poor little thing just needs some cock, hm?” he cooed, using such a sweet tone to say such dirty words.

he crawls off your legs and forcefully spreads them apart, sighing at the sight of your slick pussy, that was the real neil coming to the surface for a moment. with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth, he drags his middle and index finger along your folds, “pretty, pretty pussy ..” he mumbles, only loud enough for you to hear.

you smirk slightly, yeah it’s not professional, but you’re not planning to sell this tape. so who cares?

he grabs your thighs and drags you harshly so his hips align with your pussy.

“can you use a condom at least? please, sir?” you whine, trying to close your legs.

neil doesn’t allow that, he pries them back apart and scoffs, “sluts like you get fucked raw.”

before you can even respond, he violently thrusts himself inside of you. the sudden fullness making you help, but your dripping arousal allowed for him to slide inside of you with ease.

“fuck .. nice ‘n warm, sweetheart ..” he groans, digging his nails into your hips as he fucks into you. you moan loudly, the combination of his relentless thrusts and the pure eroticism of this role play had you both so worked up.

he glances down at your pussy, using his thumb to get a better view, “look at that cunt, stretching around my cock so nicely.” he moans, his mouth hanging agape. “please, sir, hm!” you whine, crossing your arm over your face, “please sir, what, sweetheart? please sir, touch me? please sir, come inside me?” he purrs, forcefully nudging your arm away from your face.

your eyes go wide, the thought of neil coming inside you was hot, you knew how much it riled him up so you’d often times tease him with it and dangle it in his face like some sort of potential reward he could get if he behaved. but with him in control, he has the say.

“no! no, sir! please!” you beg, knowing deep down how badly you actually want it, “sir, please don’t!”

he exhales a shaky breath, “you keep saying no .. but you’re absolutely soaking my cock .. i think you like the idea of me coming inside you. claiming you.” he sneaks a hand down between your legs and rubs harsh circles on your clit with his thumb, making you whine and writhe him. “stop! please!” you huff, you and neil had discussed prior safe words, and you made it clear that stop didn’t mean stop for the time being and that if you actually wanted him to stop all you’d have to say was kiwi. so he persisted, continuing to pound into you at rough pace.

you start to feel yourself becoming close, the adrenaline rush of it all had your mind foggy and body sensitive, each of his touches was sending shockwaves down your spine. he groans, “god, you’re so wet, it’s pathetic. boyfriend doesn’t fuck you right, does he? poor baby, just waiting for someone to come in here and fuck her right ..”

he’s right. it is pathetic how wet you are. but you can’t help it, he’s fucking you like he never has before, and he himself looks fucked out with flushed cheeks and still messy hair, while still remaining this dominant demeanour.

neil’s close too, you can feel him twitching inside of you. after a few more harsh pumps, you come on his cock. your body twitching and legs swinging shut, your cunt gripping around him as your orgasm crashes through you. he moans at the sight, tutting before bringing his thumb off your clit, returning to grip your hip tightly.

“dirty, dirty girl. coming all over a strangers cock. does your boyfriend know what an easy whore you are?” he spat, his harsh words making you whine beneath him, “gonna come inside that little pussy, let your boyfriend know how quickly you give it up ..” he huffs, his thrusts becoming weak. after a couple more pumps, he holds your hips directly against his pelvis, shooting his hot load deep inside of you, gasping loudly at the release.

you moan, feeling him spill into you.

he slowly slides out his softening cock, spreading your pussy apart to watch as his come slowly started to seep out.

he groans, “look at that .. jesus ..”, before slipping his middle and index finger inside of you, stuffing the spilling come back inside you. you whimper, your opening feeling immensely sensitive after his relentless usage. he slides them back out, bringing the wet digits up to your mouth. watching intensely as you suck off the mixture of his come, your come, and your slick off his fingers. his eyes flutter slightly at the gesture, you can tell by now he’s dropped his intruder act.

he shakily gets up and shuts the camera off, quickly shuffling back to bed to lay down with you.

“was that good?” he asks, a bit breathlessly, “did i hurt you at all?” he brushes some of your hair out of your face. you smile weakly at him, “it was great, baby. you didn’t hurt me, at least, not in a bad way.” you hum, absolutely exhausted. neil can tell you’re tired, so he just kisses your forehead and holds you close, bringing the blanket out from beneath the two of you and covers your bodies with it while holding you tightly in his arms. he places small kisses on your head as you drift off to sleep, you’re both still messy and sweaty, but you can deal with that when you’ve recovered.

—-

this came to my mind before going to sleep, i had sweet dreams to say the least!

[maladaptiveobsession]

yandere valentino x reader x angel dust

contains: reader w/unspecified genitals, gn reader, nsfw themes, noncon/dubcon, dehumanization, degradation, heavy abuse (brief mentions of physical violence, manipulation, sexual exploitation), dacryphilia, overstimulation

word count: 2,160

It’s not unusual for sinners to throw themselves at Valentino’s feet, but it is the first time the red skies of hell have thrown one directly onto him. The impact sends you both to the ground, collapsing in a startled heap.

He scrambles to throw you off, having every intention to rip you to scraps. Upon lifting your head, he suddenly has grander schemes in mind. His towering figure and lascivious grin send shivers down your spine.

“My, what lovely specimen do we have here? How kind of heaven to send a beauty like yourself directly to me.” His flirtations send blood rushing to your head, making your face grow warmer. You shyly break eye contact, swiveling your head to get a look around. Where is this place?

Valentino must notice your growing confusion and distress, interrupting your thoughts with a low chuckle.

“Welcome to hell, dollface.” Oh, you must be dead. You never thought you were perfect, but you never could’ve imagined you’d go to hell! Where did you go wrong? Suddenly thrust into hell with murderers, rapists, and monsters alike, you wondered if you could die twice.

“Don’t look so down, baby; you’re in luck! There’s no better demon you could’ve crashed into.” He goes on to introduce himself as a powerful overlord with a well-known and successful business.

“I’m feeling awfully generous right now. Why don’t you come work for me? I know just where to put you! You’ll fit right in! I’m sure my patrons will love you too.” He pauses to let you digest the information. “As my employee, you’d be provided housing. I could easily protect you from the creeps and losers on this side of hell. I’ll even forgive you for dirtying my coat! Sounds like a steal, right?”

He takes a long drag from a cigar that you're not sure where came from, then whips out a contract and pen.

“So, how about it, baby?”

Stranded in an unfamiliar place, you easily accept his kindness. As you take hold of the pen, something about his grin makes you uneasy.

If only you read the fine print. So began your life of torment.

What Valentino neglected to mention was that the “successful business” he ran was a porn studio. You spent hours doing photoshoots, films, and shows. Like Valentino suggested, you became his star attraction—the shy and delicate pornstar all of hell’s degenerates thirsted for. Yet they would never get a taste. Valentino didn’t share his personal toys. 

Inexplicably, he couldn’t get enough of you. He wanted to own you the moment he saw your pretty face, drawn to the light in your eyes.

Even with your skin bruised by his fingers and your throat sore from careless treatment, you still desired his rough affection. You didn’t mind that he left you battered each night or his harsh comments when you couldn’t keep up with his demands.

You could even forgive him for cruelly allowing his customers to take advantage of you and fuck you back into submission.

“I said I could protect you; I never said I would. Perhaps you’ll think twice before disobeying in the future.”

You would do anything if it meant receiving his violent devotion.

Being the personal toy of an egomaniacal moth could never be easy, but at least you weren’t alone. You had befriended none other than Valentino’s former favored pornstar, Angel Dust. Despite your differences in character, your shared experiences created a bond neither of you could find anywhere else. Misery always finds company.

Angel felt conflicted upon meeting you. That bastard had finally found a new toy to replace him! His joy only lasted until he heard your voice, so soft and sweet.

Valentino would break you.

Angel dreamed of the day Valentino would grow bored of him and find a new toy to play with. Now that that dream was a reality, he couldn’t push down the guilt. Shouldn’t he feel happy?

There was nothing Angel could do to protect you, but he could give you advice on how to protect yourself.

“Just do what he says. The consequences aren’t worth going against his word.”

He hadn’t planned on getting so close to you; he had tried to scare you off with cruelties, but you never minded. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t shake you. He tried to keep his distance and went out of his way to avoid you. You must have taken the hint and stopped bothering him like he’d wanted.

He didn’t owe you anything, so why did your absence make him feel worse? Why did he feel like something was missing?

Angel found his answers not long after.

He'd followed the muffled sound of choked sobs to your studio, pausing outside the cracked door. Against his better judgment, he peeked inside.

He’s met with the sight of you huddled in your vanity seat, knees raised to your chest, and your face buried in your arms.

“Doll?”

You raise your head at the sound of Angel’s voice, rushing to wipe away tears. You greet him with the best smile you can manage.

How miserable you must look to him, with smudged mascara and puffy eyes.

“I’m sorry for bothering you so often, Angie.” With how hoarse your voice is, he suspects you’ve been crying for a while. “I didn’t mean to overstep. I just felt so alone, you know?”

He does. He knows better than anyone.

It suddenly occurs to him how much of an asshole he’s been. You didn’t deserve the shit he’s been giving you.

He'd put up walls ever since he signed away his freedom; he couldn’t trust anybody. He thought nobody could understand what kind of shit he’s been through, but then you came along. You do understand because you’re going through it.

You’re all each other has.

“Don’t cry for the bastard. He doesn’t deserve your tears.” You look like you’re about to apologize again, but he continues. “Listen, I’m sorry for being such a douchebag lately. You didn’t do nothing wrong. We’ve only got each other in this shithole.”

You smile brightly, unsure what caused the sudden change in attitude, but happy nonetheless. “Right, together, we’re not alone.”

So began your unlikely friendship.

Unfortunately, Valentino wasn’t nearly as enthused. His obsession grew to new heights when you befriended Angel Dust. This manifested itself in the form of longer studio hours and even rougher sex.

Seeing you get along on set made his blood boil. The final straw was the stupid grin you sent Angel’s way. How dare you flirt with that slut! How dare he grin back!

You both clearly needed to be reminded of your status. Since you liked each other so much, he would be happy to give his blessings. Why, he’d personally see to your union.

Later that evening, you found yourself back on set, blindfolded and gagged. The cold nipped at your bare skin. Valentino kept the studios cold to keep your nipples perked. The handcuffs keeping your hands pinned to the bed post provided little comfort.

The sound of the film crew setting up around you sent heat to your sex. You couldn’t swallow the feeling of disgust residing in your throat; how could you enjoy this? Even amongst the buzz of conversations, you could easily pick out the click of Valentino’s healed boots. You wait for the familiar call to begin filming, yet you do not find it.

It’s only when a pair of hands, strangely familiar, find their way to your chest that you realize the set began. The whole situation strikes you as strange, but what could you do anyhow? Nothing would change the outcome. In the end, all you’d receive for your curiosity would be a nasty bruise.

So you brush off your worries and focus on the sensation of soft hands groping at your chest, teasing your nipples. You can’t help but lean into their gentle touches; the familiarity comforting.

The way they glide across your skin—as if searching—you wonder if they’re blindfolded too. Shivers run across your spine as they spread your legs, the cool air kissing your core. The bed shifts as your film partner settles between your thighs, their hands never leaving you.

Fingers prod at your entrance, sinking in easily. Your head spins at the sudden intrusion. As they finger and stretch your hole, you struggle to maintain composure. Each motion was intentional and practiced. You could feel the slick gather below you in a thick puddle. Somehow, they knew how to work you just right.

Droplets of pre-cum smeared against your skin as their cock brushed up against your thigh.

Unable to wait any longer, you tried lifting your hips away from their fingers. You wanted more; you wanted to be filled.

Your desire clouded any creeping shame or embarrassment. You never wanted this; why shouldn’t you enjoy the pleasure being given?

The hand lingering on your hip stills you with surprising strength; another set of hands you didn’t know they had pushes your thighs up to your chest. Desire clouds your thoughts, never once questioning the owner of said hands.

They guide their cock to your entrance, driving it in without warning—the sudden stretch takes your breath away. Though easier to accommodate than Valentino’s, you still find yourself pushed past your limits.

Little time is given to adjust; their pace is rough but controlled. Waves of pleasure burn through you. 

Your moans and pleas are swallowed up by the gag. Tears of pleasure and pain gather in your eyes, darkening the fabric of your blindfold. It hurts so good; the intensity building in your core threatens to snap. A particularly rough thrust sends powerful shockwaves throughout your body.

They shudder against you, their pace stuttering for only a brief moment. They were too busy changing their own bliss. You writhe against your binds as the heat within tightens once more, all too soon. Your pleas for clemency are muffled.

Valentino watches with great interest, languidly stroking his own length as you're brought back to the edge of pleasure. You were so sensitive and expressive.

His favorite slut being forced to use his personal toy wasn’t a sight he thought he’d enjoy. He’d initially been reluctant, only convinced by the masses demanding your collaboration.

Now he couldn’t wait for the reveal—to see the despair of fucking your only friend. Commanding his toys to fuck like dolls was fun; maybe he’d do it again some time.

He watched closely as Angel’s hips stuttered, pace becoming erratic, and fingers pressing deep into your thighs. The heat of his climax sends you over the edge. With your ears ringing and your heart pounding, you feel dizzy. Darkness swallows up your vision.

Valentino makes note of your limpness, suddenly struck by an idea. He strides over to Angel, leaning down to whisper in his ear.

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice you flirting with my toy?” He didn’t miss the way Angel tenses. “Well, I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Wasting no time, he wrenched the blindfold off.

Angel’s reaction is more than he’d hoped for. Horror and disgust flash in his eyes as he scrambles to pull out of you. He tumbled off the bed in his urgency and crumpled at Val’s feet in despair.

Angel can feel his stomach in his throat, panis rising.

“Aw, did you not like my gift?” Valentino mocks him, relishing in the pitiful display. ��Well, too bad. Pick yourself up and get ready to do it again.”

For a moment, Angel is unresponsive. He has to do that all over again? He has to violate you? He can’t do that to you; it would break you.

Buzzing under the thick layer of disgust creeps darker desires: to touch and tease your skin, to sink into your warmth. To do it all over again.

He doesn't notice the way his dick responds, but Valentino certainly does. How unexpected!

“Holy shit, are you hard again? Does the thought of raping your friend turn you on that much? I wonder what your friend will think?” He can taste your fear and anguish already. “Let’s not waste any time, then.”

Angel's fear is palpable and thick. He doesn’t want to lose you. When you open your eyes, the little sanctuary you've built together will never be the same.

You should feel something, but you can only feel empty as your only friend splits you open against both of your wills. Averting his eyes, he rocks into you. Valentino’s voice hardly registers at all. 

“Don’t act so shy, Angelcakes. Go on, fuck them with your eyes like you usually do. If I don’t see some eye contact, there will be consequences for your dearest friend.”

With your eyes connected, you can’t pretend anymore. This is happening. This is real. 

You only have each other, but together you created a nightmare you can’t escape. At least you’re not alone—closer than you’ve ever been.