#i actually put on effort on shading his outfit | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

taintandviolent · 7 months

Text

feed my Frankenstein ; Frankenkyle x reader

summary: stripper!reader decides to dress up like a zombie for Halloween, and when the girls bring Kyle to the strip club…. He makes the decision for himself that he’s going to be with his kind. w a r n i n g s: 5k words! stripper!reader, female reader, cunnilingus, rough sex, violence, mentions of blood, biting, graphic descriptions. kyle being a big, horny zombie who doesn't understand his strength. a/n: [🎃 part of lizzie's halloween fics! 🎃] probably some errors, whoops. I didn't want to label this as dead dove don't eat, but Kyle literally tries to eat reader, so be warned, I guess??? also my ending is very... cliff-hangery. don't come for me, this fic took on a life of its own very quickly. thank you for reading if you did!!! full fic & taglist under cut!↓ / ao3 link here! / ♪ recommended playlist here! ♪

You dab a stippling sponge against your neck, hiding an edge with a speckle of grey makeup. You’d put a lot of effort into your silly little zombie look - but it was Halloween after all, and hardly any of the other girls had dressed up. Sure, they’d started out in low-effort costumes of Dorothy Gale and Snow White, but as soon as those came off, they were just their normal selves again. You… not so much. You went the extra mile. You’d spent hours applying prosthetics on your limbs, and painting your flesh to mimic the rotting corpses seen in cult classic horror films. Specks of blood around your perfectly lined lips, uneven skin, stitches from your neck down the front of your body.

It wouldn’t be everyone’s cup of tea, you knew. Some of them would lose their boners at the sight. It was time for your first shift. The club was rowdy, you heard it from behind the door. You lean against it, gulp down the last of your water, and fluff your hair before spinning on your red, patent leather heels and pulling open the door.

“I don’t know if this is such a good idea, Madison…” Zoe confesses, nervously. She holds onto Kyle’s arm tightly, guiding him around a booth like an elderly man. He was already entranced by the vibrant lights that swept back and forth in shades of orange and green. It reminded him of his show. Colours….

“Oh, please.” With a roll of her eyes, Madison flips her blonde hair over her shoulder. “This is the best place to put a braindead man… look, they’re everywhere.”

Men cluster around the stage, watching hungrily as women take their clothes off, gyrating their hips close enough to their faces that they could reach out and take bites out of their full asses. The bouncer in the corner makes sure that doesn’t happen, though.

Over the PA, a loud voice says: “Alright! Put your hands together for our resident nerdy girl, our very own reanimated sexpot…”

As though it was on hinges, Kyle’s head swings heavily to face the stage. H

“Look, he’s already fitting in.” Madison nips.

You prance forward, reaching for the pole in the centre of the stage. Men holler your name, the few regulars that came every night you were working. You’d earned yourself a reputation as the nerdy girl because of your penchant for dressing up on the themed nights. Your hips roll to the beat of the song, coming daringly close to the hands that hold dollar bills. When they don’t get the chance to slip them into your outfit, they flutter at your feet, decorating the stage. You undo the tie of your shirt, revealing white bikini with gratuitous blood spatter. You’d done that yourself.

You wrap one leg around the pole, latching onto it. As it spins, you reach behind your back, undoing the tie of your top. Your breasts fall free, nipples hardening in the air conditioning. You hold the bra out proudly, smiling as the hoots and cheers fill the room.

“C’mon,” she starts, taking hold of Kyle’s thick wrist. His skin is always slightly cooler than everyone else’s. She remembers how cold the inside of his mouth was when they first — She blinks away the thoughts, actually disgusted by the idea. After all, she’d never really wanted to fuck a dead guy…

“Hey!” “Watch it, sweetheart!” “Get outta’ the way, you’re blockin’ the view, toots!”

Madison ignores the heckling, and continues to the front, pressing her bony hips against the lip of the stage.

“Hey! Dead bitch!”

Her voice is loud enough that it carries over the music, and you furrow your brow. She wasn’t wrong, but the bitch part seemed unnecessary. Still, you make your way over to the cluster of them, and bend at the waist to hear her.

“Yeah - what?” You ask, still swaying to the song.

“This is our little zombie — ”

“His name is Kyle,” The other girl interrupts pointedly. Madison throws a look towards the other girl, who nods with a fake smile. Truly, she didn’t care what you called him. As long as she didn't have to deal with him, she was happy.

“Kyle — and he needs a babysitter. He’s a little…” she makes a face, stretching her mouth out in a sneer. You knit your brows together again, unsure what that means.

Kyle, you think to yourself. What a frat boy name. In fact, he looks like a frat boy with really really good makeup. Full head of curly blonde hair, dark eyes, strong but soft features… looks like he can absolutely devour a keg.

He’s wearing an open black shirt and jeans, and beneath the black shirt, you can see raised flesh, scars like he was put back together. Funny that you’d chosen to do a dance number to Feed my Frankenstein.

“Do your job and keep him entertained, okay?” She pulls the peeking string of your thong far enough out to freely press a one hundred dollar bill against your hip and lets go. It snaps back against your skin, hard enough to sting. You wince.

Before you have time to protest, the girls are walking back towards the entrance without their little zombie in tow. One of them casts a woeful glance over her shoulder, and you’re left wondering why if she cares so much, why was she still walking away? You fill your lungs with air, exhale and lower yourself down onto your haunches.

“Hey baby,” you coo, wrapping a single blonde curl around your index finger. It’s angel-soft, and bounces back as you let go, straightening up. He seems to melt towards your touch, starved for it. “I like your costume.”

He watches as your ample cleavage sways with the gentle motion of your body. He repeats the word back to you, laboriously. “Cos…tume….”

“That’s right,” you say, running your hands over your thighs as you stand upright. The long heels of the shoes elongate your legs, making you tower over the club’s patrons. “I like it, it’s cute.”

Kyle watches wordlessly as your hands glide over your body, carefully skipping over the stitches at your knees, along your stomach, and finally up to the long stitch around your neck, which to him is holding your head on. Kyle’s eyes blink repeatedly with recognition.

You dip down, reaching for his hand. The crowd woooo’s as you hand him the string of your skirt. He grips it hard before looking at it deeply. You take one step back, flashing a coy expression to the men in the front row. Another step, and the tie begins to slip through the bow, unravelling. Another step and the skirt falls to your feet. A cacophony of approval fills your ears.

You’re in nothing but the blood-spattered bikini bottoms now, and you sink to your knees again, flashing Kyle a bright smile. He blinks, your skirt awkwardly hanging from his hand by the string.

On all fours, you crawl towards him, popping your ass to the beat of the song. Dollar bills shower the stage, and when you slide your knees out to the sides, allowing men a delicious view of your backside, someone tucks another $100 in your bikini.

Kyle is watching you, but his hands drop to his groin where he makes a fist, and rubs it awkwardly over his now-throbbing erection. You immediately notice this, and your eyes widen. That’s a sure fire way to get kicked out, and for whatever reason, you’ve clocked him as too innocent to let that happen. There’s either a) something wrong with him, or b) he’s really committed to acting like a clueless, braindead boy. Both options require action.

“Okay, okay,” you murmur, guiding him to the side of the stage. There’s an empty chair, and with a heel, you push him back into it. Sit. Stay. He does. Good boy.

He never takes his eyes off you though, and every time you’re looking at him, his jaw hangs slack, staring at you with half-lidded eyes. He keeps trying to get up, and you have to slowly shake your head at him, teasingly. He seems to understand that gesture, and stays put.

As you dance, you find yourself watching him, too. Inexplicably drawn to him, for whatever reason. You don’t usually take guys to the back, but $100 is a pretty good tip. Besides, you didn’t want to run into that girl again, and especially not angry.

As your routine comes to an end, Kyle gets up out of his chair, knocking into the edge of the stage. A few guys turn their heads, trying to figure out what this guy’s deal is. You’re too busy picking up your tips, and gathering your clothes to notice. With arms full, you race to the back, throw on a t-shirt and bolt back to the front, praying that Kyle is still where you left him.

He is. He may be trying to climb up on the stage, head craning in the direction of where you exited, but he's still there. You heave a relieved sigh, and saunter up to him, softening your expression.

“Hi, Kyle…” you murmur sweetly. You slip your arm underneath his, linking it with yours and softly pulling him down into a normal standing position again. There’s a small moment of processing and trust before he looks at you and smiles very weakly.

Destinee is next, and while she’s a nice girl, you absolutely loathe her taste in lighting. You enjoy a good rave, sure, but this is like the Electric Daisy Carnival in a much, much smaller space.

You learn very quickly that Kyle doesn’t like it either. At all. In fact, he might dislike it more than you. As soon as the beat is thumping and the bright red and orange lights are washing over the establishment, Kyle wrenches away from you, covering his ears. A low groan starts in his throat, bubbling up through his lips until he’s practically screaming.

“Shhh, shh it’s okay!” You try desperately to console him, but he can’t seem to hear you. Glancing nervously at the guests around you who are starting to take notice of him now, you smile apologetically. “Kyle, it’s okay!”

There’s only one solution - the private dance rooms. They’re quiet, secluded and a perfect spot to store a stressed out zombie boy for a few hours. You looked towards the spiral staircase that led upstairs, and hesitated. You were a dancer who rarely used the private rooms. You had been hard pressed to avoid being alone with any man, especially one that had paid you and felt entitled to whatever he wanted to take. Kyle, however, didn’t seem like the type to… well, do that. Or even articulate that he wanted to do that — did he even understand that you’d been paid to babysit him? Likely not.

You force his hand down as gently as possible, interlacing your fingers with his. “Kyle,” you say. “Kyle, look at me.”

His head moves sluggishly, and his eyes gradually follow. He looks at you with big, black eyes, the surrounding skin darkened and mottled. In the changing lights, he looks so lost, and your heart throbs desperately. Shucking the worries of whispers aside, you lead him through the club towards the wrought iron staircase.

“Hey Lance,” you say. “Private room open?”

“They sure are…” he replies with a large grin, his heavy accent coming through. Lance was one of the bouncers and rotated positions, so you had gotten semi-close with him. He enjoyed your presence and penchant for the strange. “Last door on da’ left.”

With Kyle in tow, you head down the long, red hallway. Each of the doors were painted black, with gold trim. Kyle’s gaze travels from each door, picking up on the various sounds that seeped from behind them.

“Okay…” You say, your voice a touch softer than before as you push open the last door, praying that it’s been cleaned adequately. You cock your head to the side, urging him inside. His concerned eyes swept from you to the door and back to you before he finally decided that it was safe enough for him to enter. “Look, no strobe lights. No loud music. Just you and me.”

“You… and me….” He grumbles. The door clicks shut behind you. His words are painfully slow and slurred, but you can’t help be charmed by the innocence of them. “You…. You’re…. l-like me.”

“That’s right, baby… I’m like you.” In a quiet, joking whisper, you say: “Raaaaauuuuggghhhhhh…. Brains.”

Kyle seems to like this. The tiniest of smiles forms on his mouth. His chest heaves, and without warning, he lunges for you. His strong arms wrap around you in a steely grip that at first terrifies you; your arms are pinned at your sides, locked into place. His tongue slips over your collarbone, wet and cool like he’s just finished eating ice cream. It slips over your neck, along your jawline, and up behind your ear. He’s licking you, devouring you with such pressure that he has to have eaten some of the makeup by this point. You wince as he nips at your ear lobe, his teeth grinding down on the flesh. With some inhuman gurgle, he descends, covering your chest in his saliva.

You were used to men being hungry for you, acting like rabid dogs the second that they caught a glimpse of your plump tits or your juicy ass. It was part of the gig, came with the territory. But not this. This guy was on something. Had to be. Without warning, he yanks your cropped shirt up, and his jaws clamp down on the meat of your exposed breast. You yelp, pushing him off. He looks hurt or confused, or maybe both. Immediately, you scramble, feeling like you’ve just taken candy from a child.

“Hey no.. it’s okay. You can bite me… I like being bit. But not too hard, honey… that hurt.”

He doesn’t understand. Or he doesn’t look like he understands. His brows knit together sadly, while the dark, ink pools he has for eyes glaze over.

“….biiiiiiiiiiiiiite….” He says.

“Softly,” you finished, with your cutest zombie voice. “Biiiiite soft…ly….”

He cranes forward, mouth finding your flesh again. His teeth continue to graze your skin, slightly softer than before though, so maybe he does understand. His tongue lolls out sloppily to taste every inch. He nears the jumbled up mess of liquid latex on your elbow, and you expect him to stop, or skip over it — but he doesn’t. He feels uneven, soft flesh and his front teeth clamp down on it with a guttural sound. He rears his head back far enough for the liquid latex to streeeetch, and snap.

This gorgeous, blonde boy has a chunk of faux flesh hanging from between his teeth. Fake blood dots his pale lips, and he’s looking at you with the most confused expression you’ve ever seen on a man. It’s a grisly sight, really, but it fits the theme of the night. He’s committed to the zombie act, you’ll give him that.

“Hey, hey, take it easy, spit that out…” You reach up, rubbing the fake blood off his bottom lip. flatten your slender fingers on his broad chest, skin smooth like stone except for the deep scars. These are really good prosthetics. You can’t even see the seam. Because there aren’t any…

Like a dog, he drops the wrinkly skin-toned mass from his mouth and frowns. He looks genuinely disappointed, like he expected blood and guts. “B-bad… th-that… didn’t taste….. gooood…” he stammers. "Hun..gry…..”

For a moment, you’re frozen. Your realization clicks into place painfully slowly, slower than his brain seems to move. He’s really too good at the whole zombie act, and a panicked thought writhes its way into your mind, penetrating it the way that a tissue absorbs blood. Just sucks it in, becomes a part of it. No, no way.

Heavily masking the nerves in your voice, you clear your throat and reach for his shoulder. You stroke the smooth roundness of it, raking your nails against his skin. “You want something that tastes good, baby?”

That ‘something good' is your cunt. You’ll let him eat you out so you can think. You assume he’ll eat you out like most men do — boringly — and you can process the realisation that this poor creature in front of you is actually really badly scarred, and possibly, a victim of head trauma, or something. Because there’s no way you’re meeting an actual zombie. Even on Halloween in New Orleans. That’s insane. So, you’re going to let him eat you out while you sort this out in your mind.

That was the plan, anyway.

Except the second you sink into the vinyl chair, he’s on his knees, looking at your pretty cunt with hungry eyes and the visual wipes your brain clean. It was like you put a plate of food in front of a starving man. His mouth opens. You untie both sides of your underwear, letting them fall to the floor. His eyes drop heavily, watching every move.

At first, his tongue juts out, curiously tasting what you’ve put in front of him. It presses between your folds, pauses, before wiggling around. Your eyelids flutter; you were ready to zone out, but Kyle’s inexperience, his curiosity feels so good.

“Good,” he growls, the word vibrating your cunt. His cool breath washes over your core, sending a chill up your spine. He delves deeper, tasting more of you.

His tongue flicks at your clit, flipping the swollen bundle of nerves mercilessly. Your whole body is trembling, and you feel the first of your orgasms rushing towards your centre. Carefully, not wanting to scare him, you grip his angel curls and ride his mouth slightly. Shit. Almost instantly, the throbbing starts and you make a mess of his poor boy’s face, squirting over his lips and chin.

“You like that?” You ask, through uneven pants. The first of the night always feels sooo good.

He nods heavily on your cunt, still lapping up the juices that leak from your slick hole. Your legs start to quiver and a fire burns deep within your cunt. You try to pat his shoulders, wordlessly telling him to stop. His tongue delves in, and he freezes.

“Kyle?” You ask nervously. Unconsciously, you clench around his tongue. He snaps to life, like someone flipped a switch in his brain. His strong arms wrap around the front of your thighs, tightly. Very tightly. He starts to pull you off the chair, lifting you up into his arms. Your ass cheeks are pressed against his chest and the back of your head is on the chair’s cushion now. He’s holding you tightly, upside down, still swallowing mouthfuls of your sopping wet cunt. He can’t seem to hear your desperate, pleading cries to stop.

You blink back tears, your vision throbs. You don’t know if it’s because the blood is very obviously rushing to your head, or because you’re coming again so quickly, but he’s drilling his tongue into your cunt like there’s a cream centre. If there is, he’s found it.

A scream fills your lungs and your body lunges upwards, trying to find leverage — something, anything to hold onto. She clenches again, pulsating around his cold, slippery tongue. Kyle’s practically drinking you with each clench. The overstimulation is crippling, and you can’t help but scream out.

“KYLE! STOP!”

At the shrill sound, he immediately drops you and your body hits the ground with a heavy thud. Your ass aches a little from the fall, but it’s nothing that’s going to ruin the night.

He’s frowning at you, his lips and chin glazed with your cum.

“S-sorry…” he grumbles. “Sorry. Bad.”

“No, no… not bad. Accident. Accident. Kyle?”

You call his name and he’s looking at you with those big, hopeful, dark eyes of his. You can tell — he isn’t sure if you’re going to scold him, or praise him and the uncertainty terrifies him. You get to your knees, crawling towards the sofa. Once you’re up on it, you pat the spot next to you three times.

“Can I see?” You gesture to your own body, tracing the remaining prosthetics with a single finger before pointing to him. He looks down, his bottom lip jutting out. He nods after a few seconds and lumbers over to you, sitting down heavily.

Your fingers dance over his skin. He was literally pieced back together. His head, his arms, his legs, the lower half of his torso… he was sewn back together like Frankenstein. Different parts connected as one. You’re sitting next to an actual zombie.

And then it dawns on you. Those girls. You’d seen them before. You knew their faces. They lived in the massive mansion on Jackson Avenue. They were witches. Witches were a dime a dozen in New Orleans — in fact, it was weirder if you didn’t practice some kind of craft. But zombies… you’d only ever heard stories. You’d never seen one, let alone be eaten out by one.

You stroke Kyle’s broad chest. For being a zombie, he’s surprisingly soft. You’d always imagined them as dried out, crusty creatures, but he only had a few patches of dry skin. In fact, he had more patches where you could see dark blue pooling underneath his skin, where blood had settled after death. He is cold however, and that’s the most jarring part.

You ease him back on the leather sofa, making sure his head goes down softly onto the arm rest.

“It’s okay, Kyle…. I like your body.”

“Costume….” He says. You shake your head.

“Body. Body.”

His hips give the tiniest little buck, and it slips between your ass cheeks. He whimpers, trying to get a visual of what he’s feeling. Gradually, his thrusts increase in pressure, and you adjust for your own pleasure.

When you adjust, forcing his cock to slide in between your cunt instead, he feels the slick warmth, and his feral nature returns, stronger than before. His thrusts pick up, and he seems to realise that you are a living thing, with pulsing blood and a throbbing heartbeat. Something else is throbbing again, too.

You whine and match his thrusts, letting your head loll back.

Kyle has a different idea, and before you can stop him, he has your forearm in his mouth, teeth clamped down on the soft, warm flesh. It only takes a few seconds for you to feel the stinging ache consuming your arm. It hurts… bad. The muscles in your fingers contract, twitching limply. He aggressively shakes his head, and your heart drops. The terror sets in, and you’re suddenly running cold.

“Kyle, no- OW! KYLE!”

He shakes his head again, biting down harder and digging his the ridges of his teeth deeper into your skin. You don’t necessarily feel the flesh tear, somewhere near the top, but you certainly feel the warm flow of blood that drips down your arm, dribbling onto his chest. Your pupils dilate. The blood keeps flowing, and you feel him start to rear his head back. Something pulls back with him. The ache is replaced by a searing burn, and you realise that if he pulls back any further, he’s going to pull off skin. You’re panicking now, and don’t know what else to do but try again. This time though, you roar at him, bringing back your zombie voice. It’s not so cute this time. “Raaaaaaaaauhhhhhh, KYLE. KYLE STOP. STOP!”

You try to rip your arm away from his mouth, while pushing his head. Thankfully, his powerful jaw goes slack and your arm slides out, strings of spit stretching from his lips. Your blood is smeared across his chin and bottom lip, and collects in the corners of his mouth.

With your vision bouncing thanks to Kyle’s furious thrusting, you look at your arm, watching the bright crimson well up in the indentations of the bite mark. Amidst the rest of your makeup, the bite doesn’t look out of place. You hold your arm out further, trying to come up with a story for this one. Maybe the makeup had stained in an absolutely mind-blowing way. And you had a reaction to it, hence the bizarre swelling and scabbing. That sounds good, sounds believable.

“Want… more…” He says, and your stomach drops, praying that he doesn’t mean more flesh. You’re not sure you can handle another one. Mid-thrust, Kyle’s thick, veiny cock angles just right and slips into your cunt. She swallows him easily, still wet from being eaten — a mixture of cum and Kyle’s viscid, slimy saliva. You plant both hands on his chest, letting out a breathy, melodic moan. He feels good enough to make you forget about the bite, and as you begin to ride him, it seems that he forgets too.

You’re taking control, grinding on top of him, using his cock like your own personal toy. It’s hitting every spot you want it to, pressing into your walls with its girth, and you can’t help but whine about it. Pausing to smear your blood across Kyle’s chest with your middle finger, you leave deep, red streaks across pale skin. You shouldn't find that hot, but you do.

Kyle wraps both hands around your waist, pulling you down onto his cock relentlessly, each thrust feeling harder than the last. You lean forward, pressing your tits against his almost bare chest, and allowing him to take control, thrusting his cock up into you. The slightly bent positioning of his cock, head grinding against your spongy insides is enough to make you cum right then. You don’t though, holding back, clenching your pussy as tight as you can.

“You like it, Kyle?” You ask, through shaky pants. “You like that?”

Kyle nods, heavily, his darkened eyes watching the way that your body quivers on top of him, wordlessly marvelling at the way your thigh muscles contract and shake on top of him every time he slips out, and buries himself inside your dripping pussy again. He loves how it feels, even if he can’t articulate it the way he wants to, the sensations are everything he wants. Everything.

He grips you harder, lifting you off his cock and slamming you back down, repeating this violent display of strength over and over again. Your cunt shudders, unable to hold back your orgasm any longer. Kyle feels it first, and the sudden tightness has him growling, snarling and pushing his length into you as deep as he can. Kyle digs his heels into the sofa, lifting his legs. You feel the pressure against your cervix as he bottoms out, and press against his cock, forcing his cock deeper into you, until you feel the ache. You ride out the waves of your own orgasm, feeling his as it comes in thick, sticky ropes.

There’s a gentle knock at the door, and you quickly get to your feet, pulling your shirt over your head. You scramble, trying to find the bikini bottoms and once they’re tied, you throw open the door. It’s Lance, who is looking very concerned. Your legs are pressed tightly together, in fear that Kyle’s load is going to start dripping down your thighs and onto the floor.

“Miss Y/N. The club is closing… are you alright in there?”

Closing? What? It was bareley eleven when you brought him into the room. The seedy, slick realisation that you’d been fucking this zombie for almost four hours made your cheeks blossom with heat. You immediately tuck your bitten arm behind the door, flashing Lance a charming smile.

“Yes! Fine! Just uh, finishing up a dance. Hey - Lance… did two girls ever come back, asking for this blonde guy in here?”

He pauses, thinking. After a few moments, he shakes his head and apologises.

Okay, guess he’s coming home with me, then. “Thank you, Lance. I’ll be down in just a second.”

You shut the door and lean against it, looking at the zombie on the sofa. He’s staring up at the ceiling, a small smile on his face. “Kyle, do you live on Jackson Street? Where do you live?”

He sits up abruptly, turning his head to face you. “Uhm…” He murmurs. “Big…… white.”

“Big white house?” You repeat, making a house shape with your hands. He nods.

“You wanna’ go home?”

After throwing on a pair of dolphin shorts, collecting your duffel bag and giving Lance a generous tip, you have Kyle in tow, fingers laced tightly with his. Jackson Street was maybe a twenty minute walk, something you both could handle.

Despite it going on 3 AM, the streets were still filled with partiers, people in masks, and drinks in their hands. You and Kyle blend in as you walk, heading down the busy roads. Once you arrived at the Mansion, the gates were open, a fine mist spilling into the sprawling yard.

The woman who answers the door is beautiful, graceful and composed. She wears all black, her honey blonde hair cascading graceful over her shoulders.

“Good Evening,” she says.

“Good Evening. Um.. this is going to sound strange, even for Halloween, but, um…” You want to continue. Desperately, but for some reason, you already know the answer. He does belong here. As though she’d said it to you, plain as day, he belonged here, this is where he stayed.

Zoe and Madison must’ve forgotten him.

Your brows furrow, indignantly. How could they?

Cordelia’s plump lips flatten into a knowing smile. You swallow, suddenly feeling uneasy. You scratch at the liquid latex on your neck, fiddling uncomfortably with one of the edges of the prosthetic.

“Well, Kyle… here you go. Go with…?”

“Cordelia.”

“Cordelia. Go with Cordelia, you’re home now.”

Kyle seems somewhat hesitant, but when Cordelia holds out a hand, he obeys and lumbers inside, looking over his shoulder at you one last time.

“Thank you for bringing him home,” she says, softly. “Would you like to come inside?”

You consider that for a second. Deep within the wetness of your bones, and the warmth of your blood, you feel like you should. There’s something extremely comforting about this place, but… “No, no thank you. I should be getting home. It’s Halloween. Weird things happen on Halloween.”

She smiles again. “That’s quite a bite you have on your arm… did Kyle do that?”

“Oh, uh… yeah. He got a little excited earlier, I’m a dancer, and uh, y’know. Men.”

“I have something for that.”

You look down at your bite again, it looks nastier than before. You clear your throat, ready to reject and explain that your older sister is a nurse and she’ll help, but instead, and you’re not quite sure how that happened, you’re walking through the doors. Kyle is delighted to see you again, pausing on the grand staircase to look at you.

Cordelia’s hands end up being very, very soft.

t a g l i s t : @kaismanwich / @redwoodghost / @elsamars / @silverzoomies / @kaissweetlamb / @thewolveswithin / @80strashbag / @twinkiemaximoff / @spill-the-t / @stucktothetwo / @evansb1tch / @enchanting-evan / @petersevans / @yesdevineruler / @enchanting-evan / @anonymous0316 / @eventually27 / @violetharmonscupcake/ @my-own-walker / @kai-slut / @evanpetersfansblog / @fuckedbykai / @iluwmycats / @nova-kayne67 / @dewberryobssesed / @the-goblin1 / @dirtyfairy97 / @jellyluvr / @strangerthings420 / @kai-anderson-whore / @piecesofcain / @lilthbunny / @quickandsilvers / @tatelangdonsweater / @ifeeltoofuckingmuch / @howtobesasha / @randodummy / @throwinginmythai / @hyperharlz

Ask to be added to taglist for future fics!!

#AHS Coven #Kyle Spencer #Frankenkyle #Kyle Spencer x reader #Kyle Spencer x you #Kyle Spencer x yn #ahs smut #halloween #zombies #lizzieshalloweenfics #myfics

531 notes · View notes

codgod · 8 months

Text

y’know generally i try to limit colour palettes to as few colours as possible to make things more cohesive but despite my best efforts only jay ended up being able to stick to that </3

ANYWAYS here’s the as-of-right-now fully updated designs for these dickheads. these will no doubt undergo even more tweaking as i draw them more but this is a start i guess. also pls open the pictures to look at them properly i worked so hard LOL

some random notes under the cut yaaaay

chip —

he jingles when he walks. somehow he’s still stealthy. i do not know how

kept the platinum ring that bonded him to gillion in the block! because hey he doesn’t really have a reason to take it off (and it’s a nice reminder of how much gill cares about him, and how far their friendship has come since that ice arena)

his tattoos shift and flicker like actual flames, and sometimes (harmless, purely aesthetic) sparks fly off them when he’s excited

i just think smoke coming out of his mouth when he’s angry would be cool :]

chipped teeth from biting rocks and coins all the time :/

he has scars from the red lightning, they’re just mostly contained to his back and shoulders. they’re a similar red to his coat even once they’ve healed

gillion —

the tail sleeve thing is so he can rest it on the ground without damaging his scales, he doesn’t usually wear it when he’s just on the ship because the wood is soft enough that it’s usually fine + it can hinder swimming a bit. it’s mostly meant for places where there’s cobblestone or gravel streets and such. i think his armour would probably have a version that looks similar but covers the whole tail minus the fins, maybe with some armour plating of its own. i didn’t draw it because there wasn’t any room lol

his scars from the lightning are pink mostly because red stood out too much tbh. they softly glow in the dark the same as his coral and the pink parts of his fins

also kept his ring! his hands aren’t really made for jewellery, though, because the webbing means it won’t sit very secure on his finger. so he keeps it on the same chain as the necklace he got from aslana to keep it safe

tried to make him look a bit bulkier and more his age than in my original design? i feel like i was leaning too much into the naivety and. shortness. originally lol. he also has thicker eyebrows now and i’m still trying to decide how i feel about them but i think? i like it? i don’t tend to give many character thin eyebrows so it could’ve been a unique thing for him but alas

i think i made the sword too small but like ignore that

also forgor to include pretzel </3 that’s okay though she can get her own design sheet later. she’s special like that

jay —

i believe in tall jay supremacy

blue magic! i was considering gold but that’d look a bit more like a canary than i wanted for her wings so. blue jay :]

her hair is supposed to look kinda like fire to mimic her dad ! kinda showing that even if she runs from her family and the navy they’ll always be a part of her. and also i just like drawing messy hair

i gave her sturdier gloves just because i feel like it fits her better. also changed up the shirt to more of a button up solely because i don’t like tank tops very much LOL

i did WANT to make her outfit a bit flashier to match the boys better but i couldn’t quite figure out where to Put the flash. maybe that’ll come later, the way the story’s going i might get to design some cool prosthetics for her or something

overall —

because there’s just so many fucking colours i triiied to add at least one or two colours from each of them into the others designs. jay has her necklace with each of their main colours on it, her wings are the same blue as gillions eyes, her jacket and right eye are the same dark blue as destiny’s blade, her hair is the same orange as the lighter part of chips tattoos. chip has a dark green sash under all the belts, the same as the hilt of destiny’s blade. they all use the same shades of black, gold, and brown

the only real exception is gillion doesn’t have anything from the other two because he has Such a specific colour palette and he already had so much going on as-is orz jay was obviously the easiest to do this with because she has both warm and cool colours in her palette by default lol (and i did her design last, so that helps)

#.png #jrwi #jrwi riptide #just roll with it #jrwi chip #gillion tidestrider #jay ferin #jrwi spoilers #THEYRE FINALLY DONE zoo wee mama #the lines are thicker on the little armour drawings because i did the sketch thing and then went yk what. good enough. and just coloured tha #also got rid of gills button nose it was too annoying to draw #i’m so used to straight and aquiline noses #another thing that could’ve been unique for him in terms of my character designs #but nah #pls ignore that i drew them all standing on diff planes/angles btw i wasn’t trying very hard w that #weirdly proud of myself for managing to give them all pretty unique profiles #that’s normally something i kinda get stuck on. drawing people from the side #in different ways besides nose shape

409 notes · View notes

texas-bitch-yee · 7 months

Text

Dazai Crush headcanons

Bc I love crush headcanons they are clearly my fav if you scroll through my blog

Definitely a you fell first he fell harder type of moment

Even tho he’s a flirt i don’t think he gets too many crushes.

You would probably start out as friends and as he grows closer he starts to catch feelings. I feel like he’s the type to need to true connection with someone to get a crush. Someone he realizes he can be his true self around and not keep up his facade.

Once the realization hits he’ll need a little bit to process his emotions.

After he accepts his emotions he’ll definitely make an effort to be by you as much as he possibly can. You’re going on your lunch break how about I come with you? You’re going to the park on Saturday what a coincidence I was totally planning on going to the park on Saturday too.

Will try his best to make you laugh so he can see you smile.

Would try to woo you by showing off his wit. “Oh you love chocolate?? Well did you know in 1865-“

The agency would definitely know he’s crushing and yosano and ranpo ship y’all. Definitely egg yall on. “Dazai your outfit looks amazing today! What do you think , ____?”

Dazai would definitely throw flirty comments around but I feel like you wouldn’t take it seriously bc he’s dazai. But what you didn’t notice was he’s no longer flirting with anything that breathes the same air as him. Just you.

Dazai is definitely a lover of physical touch so I can see him ‘accidentally’ bumping into you or putting his hand on your shoulder. Taking something you hand him and brushing his fingers against yours for longer than what’s comfortable. Just simple little touches that make his heart race

He also loves words of affirmation so I can see him giving you compliments a lot. “I like that jacket on you ___ it suits you a lot” “wow you’re so good at this!! Can you teach me”

Definitely gushes and kicks his feet at night while holding his pillow like a teenage girl while thinking about y’all’s intentions that day.

Actually shows up early to stuff if you’re there. One time Kunikida freaked out and made him go home thinking he was sick “I’m just happy to be here” “🤯 it’s worse than I thought go home dazai”

You might hold the power to possibly making him blush. All these new emotions about you have him in a frenzy so it’s one of the few times you can catch him off guard.

I can see him bringing you little gifts since he’s a broke bitch. “Hey I got this donut this morning and i don’t want it anymore would you like it?” (Lies he purposefully bought that for you)

You often catch him looking at you but when he gets caught he just does that smirk at you. You know the one

Acts extra confident in front of you. Even though on the inside he’s losing it.

Weirdo probably has a picture of you somewhere that he just likes to glance at when he’s feeling down.

Starts tidying himself up. Nicely dressed, hair just so, he even splurged on some expensive cologne and probably goes a tad bit overboard putting it on. Will walk past you 100 times the first time he wears it hoping you pick up the sent and like it “dazai you smell good today you got plans or something?” “No 🤭”

Protective but not overprotective. He’s knows when you need his help and when you don’t.

If you’re a girl who wears lipstick daily you get bonus points. He loves lipstick especially red shades. Definitely takes your tube out of your purse and plays with it. Then goes to the store looks at the brand of lipstick and gets you another shade “you got me a gift what for?” “Idk just reminded me of you” “omg this is my favorite brand how did you know?”

I could go on and on but this is already too long and I have a college essay due in 3 days that I haven’t even started

#bsd #dazai #bungo stray dogs #dazai x reader #Dazai crush headcanons

234 notes · View notes

bunnyreaper · 6 months

Text

the sinners saints

pairing - gabriel reyes x f!reader

wc - 1.2k

warnings - 18+/nsfw, mentions of anal

notes - a little gabe halloween fic? as a treat? miss you papi ♥

"I won the bet, you wear my costume. That was the agreement!" You remind Gabriel of his promise as you wrap the blindfold around his eyes at the perfect time to hide your shit-eating grin.

Gabriel loved Halloween, and had planned on attending this year's party in one of his usual ghoulish and elaborate costumes.

While you appreciated the effort and passion he had for them, you couldn't help but feel they always had one common flaw—too much fabric, not at all revealing.

This year, you decided to take matters into your own hands—luring the man into a bet in the hopes that you'd get your own way.

If he won, he could choose a costume for you. He insisted on something similarly elaborate and grotesque to his, a contrast to your usually revealing and cutesy Halloween looks.

But you had won the bet, and you planned on converting Gabriel to the dark side of barely-there outfits with cute accessories to match.

With the blindfold secured, you get to work.

You both had freshly showered, and Gabriel lounged in his towel as you worked on your makeup and styled your hair.

The only remaining step was the outfits—which you also decided would be matching, much to Gabriel's chagrin. Gabriel had grumbled too at the idea of you selecting his costume, a surprise no less, but you insisted on physically dressing him so that you could reveal the outfit dramatically.

A part of you hoped that once he saw it on himself, he'd actually be convinced.

You pull your own outfit on first, humming happily as you dress and undoubtedly rile him up as you take your time and leave him blinded and waiting. His impatience is easy to spot in his tightened jaw and furrowed brow.

Pulling each piece on quickly, you check yourself over to make sure the outfit is okay for now—as you resolve to make it perfect once you've finished dressing Gabriel and done your reveal.

Returning to his side, you pull off the towel that's slung low on his hips and let it drop to the floor. It's hard to not get distracted as you stare at his naked form, but you're on a mission, so you shake the thoughts away as you grab his boxers and get to work.

"Underwear first." You comment gleefully, allowing him to support himself as you pull the fabric up his legs. Even this part requires the blindfold, as you worried the color of them might give him some hints.

"Hmm." You appraise what to put on next and decide on the main part of the outfit.

Once more, Gabriel supports himself as you pull up the flowy material that feels like shorts to him. When the elastic is settled perfectly on his waist, you grab the excess fabric and tie it neatly across his left shoulder.

He hums, and from the purse of his lips, you can see he's already trying to figure it out, brain kicking into overdrive.

You quickly move to his feet, helping him into the sandals and securing them around his thick calves. The arm bracers are next, before the headpiece is nestled into his hair.

"If I'm Julius Ceaser—" He grumbles, but you cut him off before he can speak any further.

"Shush. No guessing." You say as you fiddle with the outfit and make sure everything rests on him perfectly.

With one final item, you pull his arms through the straps and settle the accessory on his back before you step away to admit your handiwork.

"You look perfect." You squeal happily, before you march him over in front of the mirror, though facing you first.

The two of you look great together in the outfits—a yin and yang to the composition you've created—but his tan skin looks perfect wrapped in shades of white and gold.

"Ready?" You ask, your hand coming up to fiddle with the fabric obscuring his vision.

"No." He answers dryly, brows knitted together. You know he's convinced you're going to make a mockery of him.

You drop the blindfold, and watch his reaction intently as his eyes roam over the outfit. They start at the killer heels adorning your feet, tracing up the fishnets to the skin-tight black dress, then to the ashen wings and the horns sitting atop your head.

His eyes turn as dark as night, as he clearly appreciates your devilishly alluring look.

You're quick to turn him before the lightbulb moment can hit, and he finally gets a look at himself in the sexy angel outfit you picked out just for him.

His toned legs are completely on show—his huge arms and broad chest revealed by the garment too. The golden halo sparkles in his brunette locks.

Regardless of what Gabriel thinks, you're practically drooling. He doesn't just look sexy, he looks ethereal—exactly as you'd intended.

For a moment he looks at himself in wonder, and the expression only adds to his beauty.

"I hate you." He comments, yet there's no venom to his words at all.

"No, you don't." You lean up to press a kiss to the tip of his nose, smiling widely. "I just thought you should live up to your name."

He might not think of himself as an angel, but he's still your angel. "Do you really not like it?" You ask, as you know he would have protested had he known in advance.

"I look good, actually." He smirks, flexing his exposed shoulders slightly.

You continue to embrace him while checking him out in the mirror, your eyes trailing over his reflection. "That would've been true no matter what, but it really does look good on you."

You lean up further, getting even closer so that you can whisper filthy shit in Gabriel's ear. "Thought it'd be nice to turn the tables for once, have me be the one that corrupts you."

His arm slips around your waist, gripping at the curves of your hips as he smirks. "Is that what you think, mi pequeño diablo?"

"I think I can tempt you into some naughty things." You giggle, throwing him a wink.

"I'm sure there's nothing you can throw at me that I haven't already imagined doing to you." He purrs, his voice dropping low.

"Hmm, 'imagined', I have no doubt, but maybe the devil can finally lead you into temptation and sin." You chuckle, purposefully brushing your lips across the shell of his ear.

"You look incredible, by the way." His hand tightens, moving down to grip at your ass.

"Thank you." You purr, feeling a sense of satisfaction, as Gabriel's hand moving lower gives you the chance to reveal your secret.

"Speaking of sin..." You guide his hand below the stretchy fabric, past the barely there g-string to the butt plug nestled in your ass.

Gabriel's eyes grow stormy, his grip on your cheek so tight it starts to hurt.

"I might be named after an angel, hermosa, but we both know I'm anything but." His voice sends shivers through you, as you know you've stoked a fire deep within him.

"Once we're done with the party, I'm gonna split that ass open on my cock and show you who the real devil is."

taglist:

@simonrillleyyysss @ivymarquis @msdrpreist

want to be tagged? click here! want to be untagged? dm me or comment, i won’t be offended ♥

#gabriel reyes x reader #gabriel reyes #overwatch x reader #overwatch fanfiction #reaper x reader #reaper overwatch

90 notes · View notes

your-local-hoemie · 11 months

Note

Okayokay but... lipstick stains on heizou?!?!?!?! S/o just covering his neck with lipstick kisses<333 and a bit on his lips too!! All because s/o wanted to test out if the lipstick was smudgeproof or not

THIS IS KINDA NS!FW. 18+ ONLY

HDJFJDIRJENDOND YESYEYSEYSUEYSYEJFJID

He’s such a little shit I want to turn his smug, pretty face into a flustered mess istg.

Warnings: pretty suggestive, it’s Heizou so it’s gonna be a lil’ sus, swearing, established relationship, Gn!Reader, does mention makeup, Not proof-read.

Characters: Heizou.

It was an hour before the Irodori festival in Inazuma.

Ayaka and Ayato invited you personally after your friendship with them had grown during the time spent after the vision decree hunt had been abolished.

You had been spending the whole day trying to figure out the perfect outfit not just for the Kamisato’s but also to try and impress your boyfriend, Heziou.

You had only been dating a few months now but it’s the least to say that he’s infuriatingly smug not to mention flirty.

You loved him dearly but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to wipe that smirk off his face, so you took it upon yourself to try that out this very night.

Sitting down at your vanity table, you pulled out a draw containing some makeup and started expertly applying it to your face, making sure to enhance all the features he’s mentioned he liked on your previous dates.

Taking a look at your reflection, you let out a satisfied hum before pulling out a tube of lipstick that you picked up in Port Ormos before applying the red pigment to your lips, giving them a satisfying pop.

Throwing on the rest of your outfit and grabbing your bag of mora, you head over to the door of your small home and right before you turn the knob-

“Knock knock, Y/N, your escort has arrived~”

You knew that voice better than your own.

The smooth tinge each word had along with an undeniable teasing undertone.

It was heizou.

Opening the door confirmed your thoughts. There stood your red-haired detective with his trademark smile as his eyes scanned over your outfit.

Letting out a whistle, Heziou placed his hand on his hip while flashing you a teasing wink.

“Man alive~ Is it my birthday or what? If I had known you’d been looking so dolled up I would of put in some extra effort to my appearance. Can’t have you showin’ me up now, can we?”

“Heziou? We were supposed to meet up at the festival, what are you doing here?”

“Oh come now~ I couldn’t leave my partner in crime to walk alone at night now, can I? Besides, it’s my job to keep everyone In Inazuma safe isn’t it?”

Rolling your eyes, you can’t help but smile at his teasing before your smile is quickly replaced by a mischievous grin as you grab his hand pulling him into the hallway.

“Actually, this is perfect! I need you to give me your opinion on something real quick!”

“Oh~? I’m not sure I like that spark in your eye there, doll.”

Closing the door, you took a deep breath to gather your courage before grabbing Heizou by his shirt, pulling his face dangerously close to yours.

“I got this new lipstick and I need to test it out real quick~”

Without letting him retaliate even for a second, you pressing your lips tightly against his before pulling away a few seconds later, relishing in the pretty shade of red growing on his cheeks.

“W-well I think I’ll have to take back my earlier statement, I think I like this very much~”

“Oh? Well you won’t mind if I do this then, Hm?”

Leaning your face in again before you press your lips against his jawline, drawing out a soft gasp from the red-head as you trail down to his neck leaving pretty trails of red lip prints against his soft, pale skin.

“Y-Y/N what are you- fuck~”

Before he could finish his sentence you took the opportunity to gentle grace your teeth against the skin of his neck, trailing further down to his collar bone enjoying the soft whimpers escaping his lips as you bite down a little harder.

Starting to get a little too into the moment Heizou, trying his best to regain his dignity, tried to reach his hand out to balance himself he accidentally knocked over a vase causing your concentration to get shattered along with the vase now laying on the ground.

“W-well… I, Ahem, you’re going to make us late, sweetheart~”

Flashing him a innocent grin as I wipe a smudge of lipstick off the corner of his lips with your thumb, you can’t help but continue to ride your confidence even further into dangerous waters as your really the lipstick to your lips.

“I don’t think they’ll mind too much~”

I wrote this while being mad at heizou for not coming home (totally didn’t use real money for extra pulls) so I apologise that’s it’s bad and if he’s very ooc. I wanted to make him a subby little bi-

#genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin boyfriend scenarios #genshin impact scenarios #genshin scenarios #genshin #heizou genshin impact #genshin shikanoin #genshin impact shikanoin x reader #shikanoin heizou #heizou x reader #heizou #heizou fanfic #heizou shikanoin x reader #heizou drabble #genshin impact fanfics #genshin fanfic

92 notes · View notes

thevalleyisjolly · 10 months

Text

Some Eärendil and Elwing headcanons because I love them:

It took a long time for Eärendil to start singing again after Gondolin, and it was mostly sea shanties and Mortal tunes. Only in private and only with Elwing (and later, his sons) would he sing in Quenya the songs of his childhood in Gondolin.

When Elwing was 12, she decided that she wanted to be a great seafaring explorer and sail all the way around Middle-earth. Her hopes were rather harshly dashed when she stepped foot on a ship to pay Círdan a short visit on Balar and discovered that she suffered from terrible motion sickness. Eärendil gallantly vowed to go on the adventures instead and come back to tell her all about them.

Elwing is just a little bit taller than Eärendil. He quite likes it, even though it’s not a very great difference.

Eärendil is fantastic at sewing, and has a good eye for embroidery as well. When he has downtime on Vingilot, he creates beautiful patterns and designs on tunics, handkerchiefs, shawls. The crew of Vingilot was the most well-outfitted crew to ever sail the Sundering Seas, and he’d always make sure to bring back little embroidered patches with scenes from his voyages, which first Elwing and then the twins would add onto an ever-growing quilt.

Elwing learned how to make lembas from Idril, but for Eärendil’s journeys, she bakes him hardtack in the Mortal fashion. He likes to make “pudding” out of it with sugar and water.

Elwing loves math, and is very good at it. By the time she was ten, she could do complex calculations in her head in a matter of seconds that Elven scholars thousands of years her senior would need several minutes and a writing surface to do. She didn’t have the time or resources to seriously study it while she was in Middle-earth, but in Aman, she does a correspondence course with one of the universities in Alqualondë and promptly has to deal with a whole hoard of mathematicians coming from all over the Blessed Realm to her tower wanting to learn from her.

In their own home, they speak a mixture of Quenya, Sindarin, and Taliska with each other. They also have a secret written code that they came up with as children, which they leave little love notes for each other in.

Neither of them have ever learned to ride a horse. Eärendil has fuzzy memories of being put on his grandfather’s saddle for a gentle trot when he was young and the Gondolindrim assure him that he once briefly had a pony, but there were very few steads or mounts at Sirion. Frankly, both of them find horses a little bewildering.

The twins were a surprise because they’d been aiming for triplets. Mostly just to see if that was even possible, and also because neither of them had ever been pregnant before and didn’t truly understand what it would be like to carry and birth triplets.

Despite the harps of gold they brought to him, Eärendil does not actually play the harp very well. He’s not fond of wearing white either because he thinks it’s too hard to keep clean. Elwing looks very good in white, but it’s a mourning colour and she generally prefers warmer yellows and oranges.

Eärendil’s favourite colour is the soft silver of Elwing’s hair, and Elwing’s favourite colour is the warm gold of Eärendil’s hair. Their favourite wedding present was a tapestry woven by some of Idril’s ladies depicting the intermingled light of Telperion and Laurelin in those exact shades.

Elwing is a vegetarian. Eärendil isn’t, mostly for practical reasons onboard a ship with limited supplies, but is happy to eat vegetarian when he’s at home. The real challenge at mealtimes came from Elros being a picky eater and Elrond having a seafood allergy.

There is an outdoor bathhouse at Elwing’s tower because Silmaril glitter is absolutely impossible to get rid of once it’s in the house. The grout in the tiling there has become permanently shiny, despite their combined best efforts at scrubbing.

#lotr #silmarillion #elwing #earendil #starwing #long post

84 notes · View notes

whisperofsong · 1 year

Text

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Female Reader

Summary: A certain outfit inspires a heated evening.

Note: This fic was inspired by an outfit I purchased for a party last month as well as a particularly scrumptious photo of Lewis. This is only my second time composing a written piece of this nature, so please be kind. Thank you for your continued support😊

Warnings: NSFW (18+)

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the days following Halloween, you can’t help but feel despondent that you missed out on celebrating with Bob. Although you’re certain you’ll have plenty more opportunities to celebrate Halloween together in the future, this doesn’t comfort you after missing this particular one.

When you return home from work that day, you saunter to your walk-in closet and are met with a set resembling Cher Horowitz’s plaid ensemble from the iconic movie Clueless. You had purchased this outfit for a nineties party and it was a hit. Your fingers play with the fabric of the outfit and you’re suddenly struck with a brilliant idea. Smirking to yourself, you remove the outfit from the hanger and change out of your work clothes. You gingerly put on the jacket and snug mini skirt along with the white knee socks. Finally, you put on your black heels and approach your full-length mirror to examine your appearance. You look absolutely sinful and while you would normally harbor reservations about wearing such an outfit in a man’s presence, you feel confident that Bob will have nothing but appreciation for this look.

When you arrive at Bob’s apartment complex an hour later, you step out of your car with confidence and walk to the entrance with nothing but giddiness bubbling inside you. You press the button corresponding with his address and within seconds, his voice comes through the intercom.

“Hey, baby. Come on up!” he says eagerly.

While you’re typically not opposed to taking the stairs, you would be mortified to run into his neighbors wearing such revealing attire. Therefore, you opt for the elevator and the brief ride seems to drag as a result of your excitement to see your man. You remind yourself that you have nothing to worry about because Bob loves you more than any man ever has and if there’s anyone worthy of this fantasy that you’ve desired to execute for years, it’s him.

You lightly knock on the door and it doesn’t take long for Bob to open it.

“I’m so-“ His words immediately cease as his eyes widen and travel over the expanse of your body. They sweep over your chest before flickering to your exposed midriff and eventually settling upon your partially bare thighs and long legs. This outfit is truly a keeper as it accentuates your curves and complements your overall figure.

“Wh-wh-what are y-you wearing?” he stutters, fumbling over his words. His eyes haven’t left your body and he is now sporting cheeks tinted by a light shade of pink.

“Oh, this old thing? Just a little something that was hanging in my closet.” You feign interest in your nails as if the man’s reaction before you isn’t a massive turn-on, as if his marveling of your body isn’t one of the greatest things you’ve ever experienced.

“You like it?” you ask innocently, knowing the answer before he replies.

“I…I…I like it. A lot. Wait, no.” He shakes his head and closes his eyes in an effort to gather his thoughts and makes a second attempt at formulating an answer. “I love it, Y/N.”

“Mmm. That’s good to hear, but I actually have a favor to ask you.” You sidestep him and enter his apartment so that you’re now standing with your hands clasped behind your back.

Bob turns around while the door remains open as he eyes you with an intrigued gaze. “Wh-what is it?”

“I was hoping you’d be able to help me take it off. It’s awfully tight,” you say as you toy with the hem of your skirt, allowing it to rise up slightly as you take your bottom lip in between your teeth. “You wouldn’t want me to be uncomfortable, would you?” you prompt.

Bob shakes his head while his chest rises and falls heavily. “No. N-never,” he states firmly.

You reach for one of the buttons and pop it open before repeating this motion on the second button. You peer down at your chest and plaster an artificial frown on your face. “Oops. It looks like I forgot a bra in my rush to get here.” When your eyes return to Bob’s, his magnified pupils and parted mouth give you all the confirmation you need: this man is definitely turned on.

In a matter of seconds, Bob slams the door shut, causing the sound to ricochet off the rather thin walls. He advances towards you and pulls you into him so that your chest is now pressed against his own. “Bedroom?” he asks in a low voice. You nod before leaving his embrace and walking backwards to his bedroom so that you’re able to watch him.

Once you’ve backed up into his room so that the backs of your legs are now met with the end of his plush bed, you halt and wait for him to make the next move. Bob licks his lips and approaches you slowly. He caresses your arm through the constrictive fabric of your jacket before his hand inches higher so that it’s now in direct contact with your shoulder. His other hand follows suit before he uses both hands to delicately push aside the top of the jacket to fully expose your breasts.

The sight of your perky nipples elicits a groan from Bob and, almost as if he loses his grip on self-control, he uses the pads of his thumbs to brush your nipples lightly, causing them to harden into little points. Although you don’t have voluptuous breasts, Bob couldn’t care less because he was a staunch believer in the expression, “More than a mouthful is a waste.” Bob repeats this tantalizing motion before he begins swirling your nipples in a circular motion, leading you to arch your chest into his touch.

“Don’t keep me waiting too long, Bobby. Not when I need you this badly,” you whisper seductively. You’re pleasantly surprised at how effortlessly your words are flowing and realize that the nervousness you formerly harbored has now vanished.

He takes your words seriously and slides your jacket down your arms. A shiver runs through you as cool air hits your naked upper half. Bob tosses the jacket to the side with no regard for where it lands and latches his lips onto your right nipple, the warm sensation of his tongue feeling like pure heaven. A soft whimper leaves you while Bob sucks on your nipple with fervor before granting your left one equal attention. You could come undone just by looking down at your glistening nipple and the one currently moving in and out of his mouth.

As much as you relish the feeling of his lips on your sensitive flesh, you crave that same attention elsewhere and want to regain some of your previous control. “That’s enough,” you pant and plant your palms on his shoulders to stop his movements.

Bob looks at you with a quizzical look. “Enough? D-did I do something…wrong?”

“No. But I thought you might want to see some other things,” you purr into his ear. Bob’s eyes flutter closed at your insinuation and exhales deeply. “Yes. Yes,” he breathes in desperation.

“Lay down on the bed,” you instruct him and he obliges you, making himself at your complete mercy. You swiftly join him and push up his gray t-shirt, thereby giving you a wonderful view of his taut abs. You slowly crawl up his body so that you’re almost seated on his stomach and take his hands in yours so that they’re positioned on the edge of your skirt. His eyes meet yours, wordlessly seeking permission, and you grant him this permission with your eyes alone.

He pushes your skirt higher at a painstakingly slow pace and when it finally reaches your hips, he whimpers upon discovering you’re not wearing any panties.

“It looks like I forgot panties, too. I can be so forgetful,” you sigh. Bob gawks at your slick pussy through slightly fogged glasses and you know it’s because you’re wetter than you’ve ever been. His hand moves towards your center, but you gently grip his wrist to stop him from continuing. “Actually, I have a different idea in mind…if you’re willing.” You look at him questioningly and he gulps before replying in a shaky voice, “Y-yes.”

You smirk and then proceed to carefully climb over him so that you’re slightly hovering over his body. He lays back and is looking up at you with his mouth agape, clearly in a trance. You glide your hands up and down his chest and hum in appreciation. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” you admit.

“D-do what?” he asks in a breathy voice, but you don’t reply with words; instead, you allow your actions to do the talking. You rub your bare pussy against his stomach and Bob lurches forward at the contact with his face contorted in bliss. He closes his eyes and his mouth forms an o shape while you unabashedly slide your wet center against him repeatedly, enjoying the glorious view beneath you: Bob writhing and moaning each time your pussy slides against his now slippery chest.

“Y/N, I…oh, God.” Bob tosses his head back again as he’s immersed in the pleasure you’re providing him.

You lean down closer so that your breasts are now directly above his face with only a few inches of space separating them from him. “What is it, Bob?” you whisper.

“You just…you f-feel s-s-so good.”

“You feel good, too, honey.”

“Need t-to taste you,” he grunts somewhat impatiently.

“Only good boys get rewarded,” you assert. “Do you think you’ve been a good boy, Bob?” you ask, knowing you’re teasing him and that it’s only heightening the pleasure he’s experiencing in this moment.

“Yes. Always wanna be good for you,” he moans and starts writhing more harshly beneath you, jostling you somewhat as you do your best to maintain your seat on his chest.

“You’re always good for me and to me,” you say into his ear as you playfully nip at it and then immediately soothe it with flicks of your tongue. After repeating this several times, you return to a sitting position. He doesn’t give you much time to process what’s transpired in the last ten minutes because he deftly flips you onto your back and spreads your legs so that nothing is concealed. He doesn’t bother removing his glasses when he goes down on you because he knows how much you adore them, especially when you gaze down and see them hanging loosely off his face while he’s bringing you to your climax.

One of your favorite things about being intimate with Bob is that he takes his time with you, savoring each sound you make, the way your body feels against him, the loving gleam in your eyes solely reserved for him. In your initial experiences in being intimate with Bob, you noticed that he was often reluctant to stray from what’s considered normal, but with enough encouragement, he was willing to venture into uncharted territory. Consequently, you learned he’s adept at dirty talk, but will not initiate it because you sense he’s still concerned about potentially crossing a boundary with you. Tonight, you intend to make him cognizant of your ardent desire for him and him alone.

The first stroke of Bob’s tongue against your core is spellbinding and you feel your insides liquify at the way its moving against you, almost as if he’s using it to worship you. “Bob,” you moan. He groans in question as he skillfully slides his tongue up your slit in a tantalizingly slow manner. “Talk to me, baby. Please,” you implore and you know he’s incapable of resisting you, especially when you’re in such a state.

He momentarily pauses and holds your gaze to confirm he heard you correctly. “I want this,” you affirm and sweetly caress his cheek. He turns his head to place a tender kiss on your palm before resuming his previous position.

Bob’s tongue sweeps through your folds. “Tell me something, Y/N. What specifically got you this wet? Was it surprising me with such a naughty outfit?” His tongue glides through your folds once more and your hips buck in response. “Was it riding me with your bare pussy?” he questions, swiping your clit with his tongue. “Or…was it knowing you can only be dirty with me?” he inquires before he harshly sucks on your clit. You gasp and rub your center against him, noting your slick that now coats his chin along with his pink lips.

His tongue is relentless as it laps around you, the obscene noises of his mouth and tongue permeating the room combined with your moans that are increasing in volume. He groans against you as your pleasure results in his own and he grips your hand with his, which only intensifies the experience. “Whose pussy is it, baby?” Your eyes dart open and you begin to feel the telltale signs of your orgasm approaching. Although dirty talk always enhances sex for you, this particular question does something special: it rids you of your inhibitions.

“Oh…oh my God,” you sigh and struggle to string words together. You bite your lip to delay your impending orgasm because you don’t want to let go just yet.

“Say it,” he urges in a demanding tone that causes you to curl your toes and arch your back. “Tell me who this pussy belongs to,” he grunts.

You can no longer ward off your pleasure as it reaches its peak, but before it consumes you, you manage to get out a broken, “You.” Unbridled pleasure courses through your veins, the feeling unparalleled to any of your experiences with former lovers. No one compares to your Bob.

Your legs tremble as you rub your center in a frenzied manner against Bob’s face, but he doesn’t seem to mind as his tongue is persistent in seeking you, unwilling to stop. Once your body settles down, Bob presses a few soft kisses to your now sensitive area before he pulls away, enabling you to somewhat catch your breath.

For a few minutes, you lie there with your chest heaving and your limbs feeling like jelly. Despite the intensity with which Bob ate you out, you find yourself possessing ample energy and want more. You use your palms that are flat against his comforter to hoist you up and find yourself clamoring for him, pulling him to you as your lips crave his in desperation. Your lips meet clumsily at first, but this awkwardness quickly subsides when his tongue licks your lips. Without hesitation, you open your mouth so that he has complete access to you and your tongues mingle in a languid fashion. The sensation is indescribable and, just when you think it can’t get any better, Bob cups your cheeks with his large hands and whispers against your swollen lips, “I love you, Y/N. My girl.” Your mouth transforms into a smile before you whisper, "I love you, Bob.”

You attack his lips once more before pushing him back down on the bed. He tugs at his jeans and they lazily fall to his ankles before you rid him of them. You press a kiss to his dick through his Calvin Klein briefs and feel it jolt as a result of your touch. “Please,” Bob breathes. “I need you.” You and Bob remove his underwear in tandem, the enthusiasm you share reflected in your nimble movements. Bob’s eyes are dramatically enlarged as you climb on top of him and reach for his hardened length.

“You…you want to ride me?”

You nod sheepishly as you’ve only done this one other time and although it was a bit awkward, you’re eager to try it again.

“Fuck,” Bob exhales.

“Is…is that okay?” You mentally wince as you hear the confidence lacking in your voice, afraid that you’ve ruined the moment.

“I’ve been thinking about it ever since the last time. It’s more than okay,” he answers sincerely and you’re relieved. “We’ll take it slow, okay? There’s no rush,” he reminds you and gives you a small smile that’s both reassuring and sexy.

You guide his tip to your entrance and move it between your folds to cover him in your arousal, earning soft moans from him that are heard with your own gentle cries. When he’s covered in you, you slowly situate yourself onto him and clench his arm once he’s fully seated inside you, the stretch overpowering your senses.

“Are you okay, baby?” Bob asks with a concerned expression.

“Mhm. Give me a second.” The sharp sting fades and when you attempt to move, you’re not met with any discomfort. You grind against him and savor the way your clit brushes against his pubic bone. Eventually, you find your rhythm and alternate between bouncing and grinding. Bob reaches behind you and palms the flesh of your ass greedily before delivering a light slap to your left cheek.

“You look so damn sexy like this. Riding me so well, Y/N. Love being yours,” he moans deliciously and you find your hands gravitating towards your breasts to play with them as you continue to ride him in a wanton manner. Bob begins to meet your thrusts and the two of you move in unison as you aim to maximize each other’s pleasure. His thrusts become more forceful, causing your tits to bounce furiously above him. “This view is enough to make me come. Can’t get enough of your gorgeous tits and this tight pussy, baby,” Bob remarks and you let out a whimper fused with a moan in response.

“I’m close, Bob. Really close,” you reveal. Without warning, Bob uses his fingers to spread your pussy lips wider as he pushes into you even harder and says, “This is my pussy, Y/N. Don’t you forget that. Mine.” He punctuates this final word with a particularly sharp thrust and his wicked words send you careening over the edge. In the midst of chasing your most potent climax yet, you feel Bob come inside you as his thrusts lose their rhythm and become lazy. You topple over him while taking deep breaths and he encases you in his arms as he nestles his sweaty face in the crook of your damp neck. “That was amazing,” he whispers. “Think you can wear that outfit for me next time?” he asks sweetly.

“For you, Bob? I’ll do anything.”

@bradshawsbaby @gretagerwigsmuse @roosterforme @demxters @bobfloydsbabe @notyoursbutlewis @theforgottenmcrmy @sebsxphia @bratshaws

#bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fanfiction

267 notes · View notes

curedeity · 7 months

Text

Yooo!!!! Anyone wanna see all the assets I made for the first part of my hikaru visual novel!

First of all, I was honestly surprised by how few I had. Even then, theres a lot I wouldve wanted to put more effort into. Its good this is just a prologue then, as it let me figure out what worked for me

These are all six Hikaru sprites I made for this first part of the game. I really like all of them, except the angry sprite, which I struggled with the posing of (might try redrawing it). Her design was pretty simple, I went off the show pretty closely while changing a few of the colors slightly. I decided pretty early on not to shade my sprites, so I would feel more confident about making more. I also decided to give her two more neutral sprites, one a bit more serious, so I could switch between them for different emotional moments in dialogue.

Ryo only got three sprites, which is a testament to how much I hate drawing this man and how much. well. he really just had some of the easiest emotional beats for me to capture. I like his neutral sprite (the first one) the best and am very proud of it!

Madokas sprites... I love them, but now I'm worried because I realized I want to give her a different, maybe slightly more grown up design for later portions. I worry that her using her fusion outfit accidently complicates people's understanding of when this takes place. Either way, if i want to change her, I'll just change her, but dnndlbgbgdjgjlbs sorry for any confusion that might cause. Im actually very happy with all her sprites! Her thinking sprite was the funnest to come up with

These are my backgrounds. Im sure you can tell which ones I had screenshots to base them on. I'm very proud of Madoka's workshop, but otherwise, I plan to work on my background skills a lot. They're very fun and I want to improve at them!

Now, there are two more art assets im not posting here, which are the two ending cgs. So if you want them... Well actually the video only includes the good one but i have a video of the good ending on my blog! please go check it out! the game is also posted to my discord server.

As a bonus though! Here are some development drawings.

In the first draft, I used a completely different sort of sprite shot. I also directly color picked from her reference with no changes. And I hadnt figured out how to draw her hair.

So these first drafts included a lot of changes to Madoka's design... that I just forgot to include in my redraws. Welp, next time you see her, she might be beat up! I had a lot of solid concepts for what i wanted her sprite work to look like, so just transferred that into my redraws.

#beyblade metal fight #beyblade #hikaru hasama #madoka amano #ryo hagane #mfb #hikaru visual novel #between stars and dust #art #my art #fan art

26 notes · View notes

eruden-writes · 2 years

Text

Halloween Drabble: Salty & Sweet (werewolf x gender neutral reader)

A sudden question leads to a bit of flirtation.

If you want to get early releases for my on-going stories or early access to the occasional drabble like this, check out my Patreon!

🍫🐺

“Can werewolves have chocolate?” The question came so suddenly as you munch on your own chocolate bar, you not only startle yourself, but the companion you’d been sharing the quiet with. They turn their almost-glowing brown-gold eyes to you.

Kellum sits at the picnic table with you, except he’s chosen to sit atop the table while you sit on the bench. Before your question, he sat hunched over his phone, elbows on his knees as the light flickered over his partially-morphed face. Now, as he stares at you, you realize you’ve rarely seen him in this phase of shifting.

Fur has begun sprouting along the sides of his face, his ears shifted from simply pointed to furry and tapered. The fur is the same shade as his hair, with interspersed flecks of grey. A ‘silver fox’ that was in all reality a wolf, you mused once. His nose has darkened and flattened, taking on the appearance of a snoot than a nose. His lips are the same dark shade and, a little shamefully, you wonder if their texture is somehow different.

When you first saw his outfit - a plaid button-up over a white tank-top and worn blue jeans - you had teased him about being a timberwolf lumberjack. Now, you’re regretting the joke, realizing how the plaid and tee-shirt highlights his muscular-chubby dad-bod, and how the rolled-up sleeves bring your attention to his forearms. Which are also partially morphed, the tan skin fading to a grey-black-brown fur with elongated fingers tipped in dangerous looking claws.

The two of you are taking a break from your shift at the haunted house, run by his college-aged kid and their friends. Gerard, Kellum’s son, actually asked for your help with the haunted endeavor ages ago and, without thinking, you agreed.

You hadn’t realized Kellum would also be helping out. In retrospect, you really should have expected it. The poor guy was having hardcore “empty nester” syndrome with Gerard off living it up at college. You’d born witness to it on a number of occasions, since you were his next door neighbor. Of course, Kellum volunteered to act in a haunted house and spend time with his son.

Embarrassed, you glance at his ear - locking your gaze to the glow-in-the-dark gauge there - to avoid eye contact. “I mean, dogs can’t. Not sure about wolves, but I imagine they can’t either. So can werewolves?”

In an effort to stave off further embarrassment and babbling, you shrug and break off another piece of your chocolate bar, shoving it in your mouth.

“I don’t know,” Kellum finally answers, a thoughtful timbre to his tone.

You rack your brain for any memory of him having chocolate in your presence, but come up empty. “How do you not know?”

It seems damn near impossible for the man to have gone his whole life without eating chocolate. But he shrugs again, before leaning over to pocket his phone in his jeans. You think you sense the slightest grin on his lips. Suspicion crawls over your skin, but you ignore it, telling yourself it’s the chill in the air.

“Should we test it out?” He asks, and you catch the sight of his tail flicking back and forth on the table.

At first, you’re not sure. What if it really makes him sick? Or agitates his system? Weren’t chocolate allergies often deadly?

But Kellum isn’t a spontaneous risky sort. He was a single father for fifteen years, for cripes’ sakes. He wouldn’t put his life in danger over testing a silly hypothesis. Likely, even if he did suffer adverse reactions, it’d be minimal, right?

He waits patiently as you mentally struggle, amusement curling at his lips. Eventually, you settle on a decision. Kellum is a grown-ass man, capable of saying no and understanding risks. And if anything really bad happens, you have your phone at the ready. “Okay, but let’s go small, just in cas-”

Your words are swallowed up by Kellum’s mouth, pressed suddenly to your lips. He moved so fast, your heart barely had time to beat between your words and the kiss. Heat claws up your face and you jerk, only to realize a clawed hand cradles the back of your head. His free hand grasps your shoulder, claws pricking into the fabric of your shirt. You gasp against his lips, which only seems to make the corners of his lips curve upward.

Then his tongue, thick and wet, slips into your mouth. Without thinking, you part your lips a little wider, angling your head as the kiss deepens. He is everywhere in your mouth. Tasting your tongue and your teeth, encouraging your own tentative exploration of his maw and teeth.

Your eyes flutter shut, the woodsy scent of Kellum’s cologne enveloping you as he leans closer. His body heat sinks into you, warming the chillier parts of you and stoking a warmth deep inside you. Your hands slip to his upper arms, grasping the fabric bunched at his elbow.

As quickly as it began, the kiss ends. Kellum pulls away, leaving you frazzled and - honestly - feeling a bit sloppy. You brush the back of your hand against your lower lip, swiping away any wayward drool, as you level a glare at the man.

Kellum ignores your irritated look, smacking his chops and humming in consideration. “No, I don’t think I-”

Suddenly, his eyes fly wide, a choked sound leaving his throat as his body stiffens. Even a slight tremor flickers through his body. Your eyes fly wide, terror gripping at your chest as you watch him list forward, toppling completely over before his back hits the ground.

“Kellum!” You shriek, trembling hands shooting for your phone. You stumble down from the picnic table, trying to find any sign - foaming at the mouth or gurgling - as further symptoms. In your head, you’re already rehearsing what you’re going to say as you dial the emergency services.

You freeze as Kellum’s eyes crack open, a wolfish smile tilting his lips. Embarrassed and angry, heat rises in your cheeks just as you realize his tail is wagging, thumping against the ground.

“Oh no, I must be allergic,” he chuckles sarcastically, propping himself up on his elbows. His furry brows raise, a devilish expression crossing his features. “You might have to give me mouth-to-mouth.”

You only barely resisted the urge to thump Kellum on the chest before standing. Fueled by rage and mortification, you’re already stumbling backward. With an accusatory finger, you jab it in Kellum’s direction. “That is not funny!”

Turning your back on him, you begin charging back toward the haunted house, trying to ignore how fast your heart is throbbing in your chest. It feels like your cheeks are going to burn off, with how hot the flush across your cheeks feels. Your brain tries to make sense of why Kellum pulled such a stunt. But wasn’t that what Halloween was about? It wasn’t simply about treats, but also the tricks.

As angry as you are, you can’t help being a little amused. And that just makes you angrier.

Behind you, you hear Kellum getting to their feet and laughing as he tails after you, “Aw, why so salty?”

Something in Kellum’s tone makes you freeze. That particular resonance when a dad is about to lay on a dad joke. A realization prickles through your thoughts. Turning around to face him, you narrow your eyes and point a finger in his face again. “You better not say what I think you’re going to say.”

His toothy grin only widens at your words, showing off his sharp canines. In that instant, your stomach drops, but the heat at your center churns wildly.

“Lucky for you,” Kellum’s eyes positively glow as he scoops you up in his arms, holding you against his warm chest. The fact he just picked you up leaves you a little dumbfounded. Instinct kicks in as your brain fritzes out and you struggle and squirm. As he teasingly growls, the echoes vibrating through his chest, you freeze. “I like my treats salty and sweet.”

328 notes · View notes

prettyboyhowl · 9 months

Text

the gang goes to Barbie (drabble)

(when I thought about which movie the ROs would see between Barbie and Oppenheimer I quickly realised none would go for Oppenheimer lmao, so have a drabble)

You look down at Gil's footwear with a combination of disgust and awe. "I still can't believe you bought those. Are you even going to wear them after today?"

"Uh, hell yeah! It's gonna be me and my barbie pink Crocs all day every day." With a shit-eating grin, he flicks his pink sunglasses down over his eyes. "That's Kenergy, babyyy."

Nearby, Otto sports a similar pair of shades on top of her head. You all agreed to wear pink to see the movie, but she lacked the colour in her wardrobe and didn't want to buy a new outfit. Instead, in an effort to commit, she took an old plain white tee and scribbled on it with hot pink marker. The front says 'BARBIE', with a messy thick line underneath it, and there's a large 'B' on the back. She's wearing it with a pair of black cargo pants and boots.

In contrast, Lemon Sorbet truly went all out, showing up to your meeting spot outside the cinema in a pink suit. He bristles with energy, looking very excited and happy to be here.

Gil's not completely donned in pink, dressed in a hawaiian shirt and shorts, but he's a staunch competitor for 'most attention-grabbing' with his pink shades, the pink Crocs, and the flaming hot pink feather boa draped around his neck. Passers-by glance at him as they approach, then do double takes as they pass, the streets crowded with people on their way home from work. You stand in a bit to avoid blocking the sidewalk.

The most normal-looking one is actually Ernie, who, despite her commitment to the theme, hasn't changed much from usual. The elegant light pink jacket and skirt combo may be a little fancy for the cinema, but it's the kind of outfit she'd normally wear. She's standing off to the side, eyes sparkling as she takes a picture with a Barbie movie poster that's been put up on the outside wall of the cinema; framed and rimmed with lights to combat the darkness setting into the sky.

"Alright, let's go," Gil exclaims, gathering the group's attention. He begins to lead the way to the supermarket three doors down.

"Aren't we going into the cinema?" Ernestine asks.

"We're getting snacks first," you say with a smile.

Gil slows to take up the space on Ernestine's other side. "Right, see cinemas usually don't let you bring in your own food because they want you to buy their snacks, which are more expensive," he explains to the Otherworlder.

"Ohh," Ernestine nods understandingly. "So you save money by smuggling in things you get from the supermarket."

"Exactly!"

"Why don't you steal from the supermarket while you're at it?" There's not a hint of sarcasm or judgement to her tone, and when you scan her face you find her looking at you in genuine question.

"Uhh," your smile freezes, "that would be illegal." You swear they have laws in Faethairis; why do you always seem to be having this conversation with Ernie?

"You're breaking the cinema's rule, aren't you?" she points out.

"Yeaaah," Gil pulls a face, "but that's not the same as breaking a law. Potato, tomato, you know?"

Ernestine tilts her head. "Aren't you already breaking laws-"

She's cut off by loud laughter from Gil, who looks around to check no one was listening in. His voice pitches up nervously. "Whaaat, we have not done… anything of the sort."

"What are you three talking about?" Lemon Sorbet asks brightly, catching up from behind with Otto in tow.

Three different answers come simultaneously: "What snacks we want." "Law-breaking." "Nothing much."

Otto lifts a brow amusedly as Lemon Sorbet just smiles cheerily. "Ooh, I'm so excited for the movie," he confesses. "Aren't you, Otto?"

She shrugs non-committally. "Eh. Better this than the other one."

"To think of how far Barbie has come… " He lifts a finger. "You know, I was there when the first one was released. Fascinating, how things evolve." You can see the scholar in him ignite as he begins to get lost in reminiscence.

"Hey, we should all take a group photo later," Gil suggests as you all file into the supermarket, flooding the bright white aisles with a wave of pink.

"Can you stop pushing me?" "I'm not even touching you… ow!"

"Otto I think you need to stand a bit closer." "Yeah, people will think you're scared to be seen with us." "That's ridiculous." "Okay now you're too close."

"Are we smiling or doing funny faces?"

"Let's smile first."

"Okay wait is everyone in the frame?" You start the countdown. "Okay, 1, 2, 3…"

"Barbie!" "Margot Robbie." "Cheese!" "…"

*click*

#as an aside #eddie would've chosen barbie too #and f!eddie would've teared up at the ending #ros #drabble

24 notes · View notes

peachsayshi · 2 years

Text

Chapter 22 - Halloween (I)

Summary: Satoru tells you the truth.

A/N: (18+ / minors and ageless blogs dni) So, clearly I update fics by taking forever to write them and then posting a bunch at one time. This was initially supposed to be one chapter but it was getting to long so I split it into two. There are only eight chapters left to this story which is so crazy to me! Thank you so much everyone for the support xo I hope you guys enjoy this update!

(Three Years Ago - Halloween)

Satoru is running late.

Two and half hours late to be exact.

He promised you that he would go all out with a costume for Rina’s party, but now finds himself expecting a long, drawn out lecture because he failed to keep his word.

He really did have every intention on surprising you tonight, but didn’t have the time to make it back to his apartment and change into his vampire attire as planned.

He spent all month searching for the right pieces of clothing to match his outfit. He found a fitted black shirt with pants to accent the intricately embroidered vest that he splurged way too much money on. He wanted to dramatically model the extravagant cape with the silky red fabric underneath, and flash a toothy grin to show off his set of fake fangs. He even reached out to Utahime in the hopes that she would help with his hair and make up, and she agreed only after he mercilessly teased her into submission.

He was supposed to slick back his silver locks, powder his face whiter than the natural color that he was blessed with, and shade the bags underneath his eyes with a deep purple to make him look as lifeless as possible. Instead, he combed through his hair with his fingers, feeling the strands flop over his face as he replaced his blindfold with his sunglasses.

A part of himself wanted to impress you with the look he worked hard on putting together, but the other half just wanted you to be happy since you practically begged him not to flake out on tonight’s occasion when you called yesterday.

“Rina and I are pairing our costumes, but nobody likes to dress up anymore. I don’t want us to be the only ones putting in all the effort…”

“It’s Halloween, of course people will dress up!” Satoru answered back nonchalantly. “You don’t have to keep asking me. I told you I would, right?”

You sighed, “Yeah, you’re right. I just can’t expect everyone else to do the same. This is my favorite time of the year but it’s so childish to even ask people to participate in this stuff…”

“Who the hell told you that?” Satoru scoffed with disbelief, his fingers gripping around his phone hearing the hurt in your tone.

“It was just something Haru mentioned when I asked him what he planned on wearing. I guess he’s right, who cares about silly costume parties anyway…”

Satoru knew that you were just repeating Haru’s pitiful comments which only made him huff with disappointment. He tried not to dwell on the fact that you’ve been acting odd recently, but his gut told him that it had something to do with the sudden tension surrounding your relationship.

He wondered if your boyfriend finally found the courage to confess to his infidelity after he asked Satoru not to let his secret slip.

Considering how much you adored Haru, Satoru wouldn’t be surprised if you had forgiven him on the spot.

However, if Haru had actually admitted to cheating on you, and you had decided to forgive him as Satoru theorized...then why did it suddenly seem like you’ve been thrown off balance?

He tried to pry into the subject but you have been maintaining a barrier on discussing anything serious surrounding your personal life. This tied in with your sudden short tempers, and your friend found himself walking around egg shells in the hopes that you wouldn’t pick a petty argument with him over the tiniest things.

You always apologized afterward, blaming your annoyance on your lack of sleep or that there’s been a lot on your mind recently.

Excuses, excuses, excuses…

Satoru knew what the answer to the problem was but your friend just couldn’t bring himself to confront you about what was really going on.

He wasn’t hiding from the truth because he was loyal about keeping any promises to your boyfriend, but he found himself trapped in a situation that he didn’t particularly enjoy.

If Haru did tell you the truth, then Satoru would not be able to handle any of your lame reasons about why you agreed to take him back.

Your friend cared about you in a way that was beyond his own comprehension, and understood that this would be the straw that broke the camel’s back.

He didn’t want to have to break the dam and unveil all of his true feelings about Haru, while risking your friendship as a result.

On the other hand, if it turned out that Haru was still lying to you then Satoru would have no other choice but to tell you the truth.

He had plenty of opportunities to do so before, but whenever your face lit up at the mention of Haru’s name it became reason enough for him to bury the secret deeper inside.

He wasn’t going to take away your happiness, and refused to be the reason behind your heartbreak.

By the time the sorcerer approached Rina’s front door his stomach had already twisted itself into more knots than he could count.

From behind the frame he could hear the low thump of the bass bursting through the speakers, the sound of happy drunks singing along to the music playing, and the muffled conversations coming through the melodic tunes.

He pressed his forehead against the door and exhaled before finding the courage to ball his hand into a fist and knock.

The door swung open and Rina stood before him in a fiery costume. She was wearing a short crimson wig, decorated with a pair of devil horns that matched her fitted full length dress while holding a toy trident in one hand.

A teasing glint twinkled in her eyes when she met Gojo’s gaze.

“No costume, no entry” she joked with a quirked brow, as she dramatically pointed at his casual clothes with her trident.

Satoru pouted, tilting his head slightly as he looked down at her, “can’t you tell that I am an international super model?”

Rina scoffed, “that’s what you’re going with?”

Satoru lowered his shades, before delivering a smoldering squint to show off his best pose.

“Satoru Gojo! The face that makes millions!” he boomed in a dramatic voice, mimicing the tone of advertisers before finishing his statement off with a wink. “Is that convincing enough?”

Rina held back a smile before stepping aside. “Not to me but I’m pretty sure everyone else will believe it.”

Satoru passed through the threshold, his tall frame obvious among the sea of strangers as he towered over every single person in the room.

Rina cocked her head to the right, “she’s inside dancing with my sister.”

Satoru ignored the way his heart thumped, his eyes quickly scanning the room until his gaze laid upon you and he parted his lips in surprise.

You were wearing a glittered white dress, the thick straps were snug around your shoulders and the semi-sweetheart plunge revealed a subtle hint of cleavage. His eyes lowered, taking in how the fabric wrapped around waist until it flared out to reveal your legs underneath. Fluffy white wings fluttered as you danced, and you were barely able to stand straight holding onto your partner as you tried to keep your balance on your high wedged heels.

When you finally looked over to Satoru, he felt his cheeks heat up instantly as your tinted lips spread into a warm smile.

He cleared his throat, lifting his hand to salute a wave while trying to brush off the rush of emotions that ran through him.

You whispered something into the girl’s ear, then carefully stumbled your way over towards him.

“Satoruuuu!”

“Hey, you-ugh!...”

Satoru groaned, stepping one foot back as he tried to catch the weight of your body in his arms when you fell into his chest for a hug.

“You caaame!” you replied with enthusiasm, before pushing him away and furrowing your brows as you took a moment to judge his outfit.

“You didn’t dress up?” you questioned with sad doe eyes, which only made the warmth spread from his cheeks down to his neck.

“Work ran late,” he confessed with an apologetic smile, “but I really did have a costume planned-”

You scoffed as you let out a short laugh, waving your arm in his face to brush off his words.

“Ohhh, it doesn’t matter.” you slurred, ”you’re here and we are going to have sooo much fun, right?”

The smile falls on Satoru’s face, his lips forming into a straight line and his fingers hold both your elbows as he steadies you in place.

“How much did you have to drink?” he asks in a low voice.

“Don’t be a bore…” you grumble, lifting your index finger to poke his chest.

Satoru arched one eyebrow in response, unamused by your pathetic jab at his concern over you.

Upon seeing the disapproval on his face you sigh before reaching for the collar of his jacket, and gently squeeze your grip around the fabric.

“Relax! I’m fine! I promise!” you reassured with another grin.

“She’s more than fine,” Rina interrupts, and Satoru notices your best friend loop her arm around your waist to hug you from behind. “...now you can either join us in our dance or strike a few poses on your own!”

Satoru releases you from his grip and you giggle before tumbling backwards to follow Rina’s footsteps. Within minutes you were back to shaking your hips and running your fingers through your hair, singing along to every song without a single care in the world

Satoru made his way over to the kitchen, where he rummaged through the fridge to pull out a bottle of sparkling water. He tried to ignore the mild annoyance he felt by having his concern overlooked.

Regardless of what others believe, he knew you better than anybody else which is why he could see right through you.

***

Satoru stood in the corner of the room pretending like he was invested in the conversation with one of Rina’s old high school friends. She went on about her current experiences working as a flight attendant, going into great detail about all the different places that she traveled to. He could tell that she was trying really hard to impress him but he was busy getting distracted whenever he shifted his attention to you.

Your arms were around Rina’s neck, the two of you swaying while murmuring a secret conversation in between your dance. The sorcerer's back stiffened when you brought your drink to your lips, taking another sip as you finally finished off the beverage.

Satoru merely let a few “uh-huh’s” slip to keep the conversation rolling, but the minute he watched you head towards the kitchen is when he found an excuse to cut the topic short and follow your footsteps.

You were reaching for the bottle when you felt slender fingers circle over your hand.

“How about we have some water instead?” Satoru questioned kindly, lowering your wrist down before you could even fill up your cup.

You spun on your heel, your senses gravely lagging as he easily managed to remove the empty cup from your grasp and replace it with a water bottle instead.

“Fine,” you nodded in defeat before twisting the cap open, “...but only if it’ll make you stop starin’ at me all night.”

“I’m not staring,” he denied.

You scoff, rocking slightly from side to side as you chug down the water.

Satoru winced at your discomfort watching you swallow the beverage.

“You definitely are staring...” you groan with disgust, scrunching up your face as you tried to shake off the queasy sensation that suddenly washed over you.

“Well, it’s not every day you decide to drown yourself in alcohol.”

“Its a paarty, Satoruuuu...” you tease again, before leaning back against the counter and folding your arms across your chest. “I’m supposed to be having fun.”

Your friend merely hums.

“Well then, how about we sit somewhere and catch yourselves before our next round?”

“Our next round? You plan on drinking with me tonight, International Supermodel?”

“That’s Mr. International Supermodel to you, and absolutely not.”

You shrug your shoulders as you try to move past him but you were quickly blocked by the length of his torso.

“Just for a little bit, please?” he playfully coaxes, “All of this is kind of stimulating for me and I didn’t even get a proper hello from you…”

“Satoru…”

“What if I promise you a dance afterwards?”

That made your eyes light up immediately and you reached your hand forward to extend one of your digits in his direction.

“One whole dance to whatever song I choose. Pinky promise?”

Satoru chuckles to himself, watching you struggle to hook your finger around his.

“Promise.”

His hand finds the small of your back and he quietly guides you away from the stuffy crowd as he makes his way towards Rina’s bedroom.

He could see the many eyes studying you both closely, but tried not dwell on how suspicious this might appear to them.

A heavy silence took over when Satoru shut the door behind him. He watched you saunter towards the bed, plopping your entire body weight onto the mattress before releasing a sigh as you welcomed the quiet with open arms. Your hands reached down to your ankles, and you fumbled with the straps before kicking off your killer heels.

“Maybe this is a good idea,” you slur, “m’feet are killing me...”

“Well, you’ve been dancing like nobody’s watching you…”

“Except there was somebody watching me. A six foot tall creep with white hair, tryna to pose as a model when he promised me that he’d wear a costume tonight...”

Satoru smirked before falling onto the mattress as he found his seat right next to you.

“I’m just making sure that my friend doesn’t fall flat on her face.”

You purse your lips at him, but upon reading the sincerity in his expression, you merely bump your shoulder against his in jest.

“I guess an injury would kill all the effort I put into my make up...”

“And what a waste that would be...” he replied with enthusiasm, subconsciously grazing you back as he presses his body into yours. He arches his neck down, moving his lips closer to your ear and dropping the tone of his voice unintentionally before speaking.

“You look great by the way.”

“Think so?”

“Absolutely...” he answers back, releasing the tension from his body and allowing the conversation to flow with a familiar ease, “As a matter of fact, I think this costume suits you. You should wear it more often! Maybe, next time when you accompany me on one of my shopping trips...”

“Wings n’ all?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way...”

“I’m sure the sales representatives at all those luxury brands you like would have a field day seeing me next to you...”

“What can I say, we’d make a pretty team...”

You give him another genuine smile and Satoru can’t help but mirror you now that he’s broken whatever facade you were showcasing outside of this room.

“Did you really put together a costume or are you toying with my emotions?” you wondered while angling your body to face him and then lifting your legs up on the bed to sit in a crossed legged position.

“I'm offended that you would question me! I would put Dracula to shame from how good I would have looked tonight,” Satoru replied, reaching both hands behind him as he leaned onto the weight of his arms. “I guess it’s best that I didn’t wear it. I wouldn’t want to outshine anybody...”

The corner of your lips lifted when he gave you a playful wink but you didn’t know that he was forcefully trying to keep his gaze away from the hem of your dress riding higher up your thighs.

“Are you sayin’ that you would’ve looked better than me tonight?”

Satoru ponders the question, using this opportunity to succumb to his flirtatious state as he quickly glances over your feathery wings.

“I wouldn’t stand a chance against you, angel.”

You drew in a sharp inhale, your chest rising and falling quickly as he caught you by surprise with his statement. He knew his comment must have flustered you but he didn’t really care. You looked unbearably cute tonight, and deserved the compliment.

“I-I don’t think the odds would totally be in my favor…” you breathed softly while trying to regain your composure. “Not with the way half the of the room has been lookin’ at you tonight.”

Curiosity prompted Gojo to lift his brow, “And how would you know?”

“I always pay attention to how people look at you.”

“Why?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “I mean, s’kind of hard not to notice when you look the way you do...”

“Oh, right, because I’m a six foot tall creep with white hair…

You roll your eyes, “you know that’s not the reason why...”

“Yeah, but it’s what you said! People must think I’m a freak or something…”

“That’s not what I meant though!” you argued back defensively, unamused by the cocky expression on Satoru’s face.

“Indulge me just this once and elaborate then...” he begged.

“I’m sure you have plenty of girls who tell you exactly what you wanna hear,” you replied and Satoru tried really hard not to analyze the strange way you phrased that sentence.

He tucked out his bottom lip and lowered his shades so you can see those blue eyes sparkle against the dim light.

“Is that what you really think of me?” he sulked.

“Yes.” you teased.

Satoru dramatically gasped, one hand reaching to clutch his shirt directly over where his heart is while the other covered his mouth.

“How...dare you...” he exclaimed, before launching his body forward and dropping his forehead onto your shoulder. “...you can’t just go around breaking people’s hearts like that!”

You giggled, “Satoru...”

“What have I done to deserve such cruelty?! Does my loyalty, my friendship, mean so little to you?!”

You pat him lightly on the back, but it only made him burrow his forehead into you even further.

“How will I recover from this insult?! How will I cope?! Don’t you know that I’m an international supermodel?! Don’t you know that my good looks is all I have to offer?!”

“Satoru, shhh!” you squeaked as his voice started to boom louder the more he got into the dramatization do his distress.

He was pretending to sob, and you couldn’t stop the rumble of laughter from escaping you because his hair was making you feel ticklish, and his warm breath was causing goosebumps to raise across your skin.

“How can you shame me for the things that make me who I am?! Oh, I’m so huuuurt....”

“Fine, Fine!” you yielded, reaching both hands to grab his shoulders as you pushed him off you. “I didn’t mean it! You’re the most handsome man that I’ve ever laid my eyes on. There, now can we cut the theatrics, please?”

Satoru’s face dropped to his usual expression, his tone shifting with ease as he balled one hand into a fist and placed it underneath his chin.

“The most handsome? Really?” he calmly egged on while pretending like nothing happened.

You dug your nails into his shoulders before letting another loose comment slip from your intoxicated lips.

“Yes, really. You’re so handsome, it actually infuriates me.”

Satoru’s mouth spread into a full grin and your eyes took in the sight of his pearly whites.

“I'm never going to let you live this down. You know that right?”

You furrowed your brows together and huffed, one hand sliding across his tee as you grabbed onto his collar.

“The likelihood that I’ll remember this tomorrow s’very slim...”

“Oh, I’ll be sure to remind you, do you worry about that...”

“You can’t!”

Satoru’s eyes widened and you were equally surprised from how stern you were with your reply.

You tightened your grip around his collar, swallowing hard before looking at him with pleading eyes.

“You can’t...” you murmured, “whatever is said tonight stays between us, it’s our secret...”

The sorcerer parted his lips caught somewhere between confusion and curiosity. He knew he was only joking, but the look of panic in your eyes was speaking volumes to him.

“It’s just a compliment...” he replied nonchalantly, “it’s not a big deal...”

“Just promise me, m’kay?” you begged, your free hand lifting up as you extended your pinky finger once more. “Please?”

Satoru searched for an answer in your eyes but was met with only more mystery. He swallowed the lump in his throat, trying hard to ignore just how much closer you were to his body now.

He hooked his pinky finger around yours and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Nothing you say leaves this room, I promise.”

***

“What’s going on with you?”

Satoru was still holding your finger, your faces merely inches apart as he kept you grounded amidst the spinning bedroom.

The pent up frustration of the last two weeks began to crawl up your throat, with all your internal thoughts ready to pour out of you as you finally found an opening to ease all the worries that’s been stressing your mind. You didn’t even realize that your eyes were welling up, that Satoru’s caring gaze was enough to strike you the hardest while you were your most vulnerable.

You blinked back the tears, shaking your head as you murmured “nothing,” but your voice cracked which only made him disregard your lie.

“You know you can talk to me, right?”

You nodded your head.

Satoru loosened his finger, his gaze falling as he watched you curl into your self when you folded your arms across your chest protectively.

“Things with Haru...have been weird...”

“Weird?”

“He’s been acting strange, and I-I...” you sought out your friend, his attentiveness making you comfortable enough to let out a groan of frustration. “...I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

Satoru’s expression remained the same, but you didn’t know that in the back of his mind he was starting to panic.

“He’s always working now, and every time I bring it up he tells me that he’s tryna to build for our future...” you vented. “I just-I feel like I’m a crazy person for wanting to spend time with him. I plan out dates which he forgets or cancels last minute, and whenever he’s home he barely wants to talk. He keeps tellin’ me that he’s "too tired”...I can’t help but feel...distant...”

You were wounded, and you bit your bottom lip as you looked down at your legs instead of Satoru’s eyes as if you were ashamed to admit the truth.

“I feel like I’m a thorn at his side. He’s been picking on everything I do...everything I say...” you confessed, “We...we got into an argument before the party. I don’t even think he’s coming tonight...”

“What happened?”

You sighed, “I answered his phone while he was in the shower. Some woman called him from work...when I told him about it, he got upset with me. He said I had no right answering his work calls...”

Satoru’s jaw twitched, but you were too distracted to notice.

“I told him it was an honest mistake, that I wouldn’t do it again but he shut me out after that...didn’t say a single word and left. I’ve been trying to message him, but he’s not answering me...”

“That fucking ass-...”

“No...s’my fault, ‘toru. He gets so anxious about this job, I shouldn’t have-”

“Stop,” your friend sternly interjected. “don’t make excuses for him. You don’t have to do that. Not with me at least...”

“I’m...I’m not...” you replied defensively. “I just-I’m tryna to make sense of it. I need to fix whatever’s wrong...”

“But why do you need to fix it?” Satoru countered. “He’s the one who should apologize to you...”

“I’m not being patient or understanding,” you explained, and your words were only making your friend’s blood boil.

“Just the fact that we are friends tells me that you’re patient and understanding,” Satoru declared. “You’re not telling me anything that justifies his behavior...”

“I dunno,” you mumbled as you covered your face with both your hands. “I just...don’t want this to escalate to a point of no return.”

“Would that really be so bad?”

You dropped your hands, lifting your eyes up to meet his as you were astonished by his bold question.

“People change,” Satoru explained with an even temper, “...and sometimes we hang onto just a version of who they are...”

“No, no...” you shook your head in denial, “No, that’s not what this is. We are just hitting a rough patch. I just need to see this through...”

Satoru pinched his lids together, your name leaving him in both disappointment and anguish.

“Look, there’s something you need to know...”

“Satoru, I can’t lose him.”

The white haired sorcerer looked at you in disbelief because your voice cracked not out of distress but fear.

“Haru...he fits into my life perfectly. My parents love him, my friends love him, and he’s...everything I’ve ever wanted, everything I’ve ever asked for…”

“So, you’re fighting for some perfect little dream at the expense of your own happiness?”

“I don’t want all these years to go to waste. If I lose him, then...then I’ll have to start all over again...”

“Do you really believe that he’s the only man capable of loving you?”

“S’not like there’s anybody else...”

“And if there was?”

An uncomfortable silence lingered between you both as Satoru’s question hung in the air. Neither of you had anything to say, but you were both staring intently at each other, while trying to read through the other person’s thoughts.

Your friend wasn't quite sure if he could find a reason behind his question, and instead exhaled as he nervously scratched the back of his head and leaving you to speak first.

“I...I think I need to lie down,” you murmured, “I’m feeling dizzy.”

Satoru felt the mattress dip underneath him as you crawled over to lay your head down on one of Rina’s pillows. You curled your arm underneath it, while you placed your other hand flat on top. You nuzzled into yourself, your eyes growing heavier as you started to blink them shut.

“I don’t want you to settle because it’s comfortable. I’m just trying to look out for you, that’s all...”

Your friend could hear you breathing softly but you gave him no response. Satoru reached for the straps of your wings but hesitated as he retracted his hands back. He didn’t want to disturb you and instead proceeded to stand up as he adjusted the covers to ensure you you were comfortably tucked in.

“Don’t go…” you mumbled, bringing your hand out to hold onto his wrist as you held him. “Please stay…”

When you finally drifted off to sleep, he exited the bedroom feeling exasperated.

There was an unfamiliar weight that burdened him as he considered your words - authentic words that you would have never allowed yourself to blurt out under regular circumstances.

The thought made him incredibly sad.

He couldn’t comprehend why you felt this urgency to sell him your fairy tale, and upon realizing that there were cracks that were fragmenting your relationship with Haru, the guilt was starting eat him up from the inside out.

If you were already having your doubts then there was no way for the truth to backfire.

Satoru still had a chance to make things right with you.

He concluded that you deserved the truth, already planning out the speech in his mind with every intention on seeing you tomorrow to revisit this delicate conversation.

He didn't have any reason to linger at the party any longer, and ignored the inquisitive stares from the people around him as her emerged onto the scene. The Flapper Girl approached him once more, hoping to get a second chance at him but he rejected her advances with the excuse of having to leave urgently.

He found Rina and thanked her for the invite, before saying a quick goodbye and informing her of your sudden disappearance.

He left the party with a swiftness while trying to comprehend this unfamiliar tightness in his chest, and gulped down a breath of the crisp autumn air as he stepped out onto the street.

***

(present)

“Haru is a chameleon,” Satoru explained, “He’s the kind of person who shows you exactly what you he wants you to see, without ever giving himself away in the process...”

You absorbed his words but your body was growing numb. You were still trying to wrap your mind around him confronting Haru in the elevator, while recalling the conversation you both exchanged the night of the Halloween party but it merely played back like a hazy dream in your mind.

“...I ran into Haru right after I left, and things got heated. I just-I couldn’t stand him lying to you anymore. Unfortunately, what I didn’t anticipate was for him to spread fowl lies to anyone who would listen...”

Satoru sighed, his fingers closing over your hands as he held you carefully before continuing to speak.

“Haru needed to save face and I was his scapegoat. He told Rina that we...that I...took advantage of the situation. He said that I was trying to manipulate you into breaking up with him, that it wasn’t the first time I tried to wedge myself between your relationship...everyone saw us go into that room together…it made for a very convincing story…”

“The argument?” you whispered, your voice trembling as you tried to piece together the puzzle of stories.

“I couldn’t figure out why Rina resented me so much after you ended things. She made it perfectly clear that she didn’t want me crossing that line with you, and I...I agreed that I would keep my hands to myself. That was until you showed up at my place with your proposal...”

Satoru felt you inch your hands further away, trying to slip out of his grasp and it hurt him to have to ease his grip.

“Rina had a close friendship with Haru. I don’t blame her for believing him so easily. She agreed that she shouldn’t have been so naive regarding his story, but then again...I don’t come off as the easiest guy to trust either...”

“Except...” you interrupted, your voice wavering when you sniffled and the sound made the sorcerer’s heart race as the blood rushed to his cheeks. “except I trusted you, Satoru.”

Your touch left his and you shook your head in disbelief.

“What...what happened after you left the party? What happened when you ran into Haru?”

Satoru’s face hardened, and he ran his thumbs across the pads of his other fingers as he adjusted to the vacancy without you holding him.

“Haru showed me his true colors,” he declared in a gravelly calm voice, “...only this time I had a reason to intervene...”

***

NEXT: CHAPTER 23 - HALLOWEEN (II) - this is still a world where jujutsu sorcerers exist right? - just a hint for what's to come ;)

TAG: @haikyutiehoe @damn-geto @pensivespecter @ekaterinatepes @jelly-jellx @lollipopd @shuxjodie @heavenlyres @alreadyblondenow @nanamikentcs @artemisthestar @velvetlight333 @sluttoru @smoothy-ve @bloombb @mrsmorgenstern @smoothy-ve @bisexualwomanofcolour

#gojo x reader #Gojo Satoru x reader #Gojo Satoru x you #gojo x you #Gojo Satoru fan fiction #gojo fan fiction #jujutsu kaisen fan fiction #gojo x female reader #Gojo Satoru x female reader

98 notes · View notes