Oh my goddd you ate with this one I'm literally shaking and dribbling and rolling around bru
I write Thanos so weird in this cause I did it from the perspective of reader being high 😭🙏 lmk how it is—also lowk made reader a proper addict cause let's be so fr that only works with Thanos
I hope you enjoy 🤫🤫
... The bed creaked under the shifting pressure of your body rocking subtly as a form of comfort, the pupils inside your head rolling and pinging from the back of your head to the front—darting around the room, as if the next fix would happen before you register it.
You can realistically only register the coldness of your core, no matter the build up of cloth that now swarms your frame as you collect people's—one dealer in particular—jackets like medals.
You're aware your eyes give a wide birth, swooping over the room as if on servailance—although there was only a cold draft from your open window to be weary of. You hear the subtle tap on your shared apartment door, eyes widening as you vaguely connect dots in your head and then focus on the point.
You sit up, legs dragging out the silken sheets so your naked feet plant against the floor. The steps are heavy, leading to the empty shared living room before cracking the door of the apartment open.
Purple hair was the first thing you registered. Second being the wide dark pupils of his suspiciously bright eyes. There's a stigma around dealers refusing to take drugs, knowing the harmful effects but high of the richness was a fad in the face of Thanos.
The bright colored, dimly cowered dealer now just on your doorstep. He pops his own pills like his rap carreer keeps him afloat with money, yet he's still pushing thirty and scraping reliable clients off the street just to get enough cash to have his oen fix. In a haze, you miss hoe he glances past you and checks out the apartment. As if looking for any other movement, noting you were alone.
He's now grinning, corners of his mouth pulled tightly as he invited himself into the apartment. You step back, mind blanking as you slump back down on the couch, suddenly eager at his appearance. "You said you were busy." You recall, voicing out to him as he laughs out—energy seizing his performance.
He makes himself comfortable, knowing your roommates were out, so he could just swing open the door in the fridge and pick at the contents. "Not anymore." He doesn't explain. Doesn't apologize. Doesn't give a guess to who used his time up before yours.
You then hear him mention something about club pentagon, about a guy you met there when you were clinging to Thanos that night.
The remarks from the self absorbed man towards you swung like a wip—yet numbness in smoke and pills kept you biting your lip for the sake of him being one of Thanos' other clients. "—Always grabbin' and reaching for my pills." Your eyes flicker as he turns around, down the the cross necklace around his neck. You couldn't say anything towards that, knowing your hands are just as forwards when you find the time for it.
Thanos eventually sat besides you on the sofa, lighting a blunt in his mouth. On the come down from your last high it made you all spacey, yet itching for more, yet you couldn't remember the exactly moment he had rolled up. Your eyes flicker down, first the the stick embmitting the waft of weed to Thanos' lips.
Your eyes flicker back up, taking the details off his face. He only grins back at you—smoke escaping from the tunnels of his nose before he reached his hand over and placed the blunt to your lips—fingers brushing the try, peeling skin of your mouth.
"Not you tho angel, this is free of charge.." He says, you yourself vaguely following the convoversation he and himself were in. You take a deep inhale, no urge to couch as you let it out slowly through your parted lips. "It's fun when you get grabby." He teases again, his voice like a mist that hits your face and blurs in your ears. "Yeah." You agree, your mind lingering on other clients. "Sure." But your voice was weak.
He didn't care. He chuckled, leaning back and taking another inhale. "You're my favourite client, senorita." He says, chuckling, his eyes suddenly peircing. His grin grew and he did a sudden flick of the wrist with his free hand. You only stare, the lack of a filter giving a faint judgmental look in your hazy eyes and furrowed brows as he tried making his hand rap signal work. You nod faintly, not exactly sure how to take his energetic energy.
"Yeah..." You say again, trailing his messy outfit that lead to his colorful nails. He only grins at your cluelessness. "Stop with that—" he suddenly demanded, "—or someone will think you're trying to sweeten them up." He says, missing the point of the faint expression. But even if he caught it, it wasn't complete judgment. He knew that.. Completely.
Especially after the night he chose to crash here instead of underside a bridge, where the air was brittle and could've shattered him like glass.
Hello! I hope you're having a great morning/ night, I was wondering if I could request something if you don't mind 🐧
May i request the obey me brothers (if you do them) with an uma reader (uma musume) where uma reader is training for their upcoming race , getting their racing outfit ready and the brothers are so confused that they ask what uma reader is training for. So uma reader tells them that they're aiming for the triple crown
Uma's are all female so I'm not sure if you do female reader but if you do can you make it female reader? :o
Arggg I actually don't have a lot of knowledge on Uma musemes but I tried my best with this request 😭🙏🙏 I can always redo it if it's not exactly how you wanted it, I was a bit lost but we roll!! Hopefully you enjoy!!
Also I tried to keep up the chaotic energy of the game, hope that's ok 🙏🙏 and wrote it as if the brothers didn't know reader was an Uma Museme, therefore they didn't know about the races. Ya feel me? Alright good 😛😛
Obey Me! Brothers x Uma Museme! Fem! Reader
Morning in the House of Lamentation was usually slow. Quiet. Peaceful.
Until today.
A thunderous rhythm echoed through the marble halls, like a herd of demons had decided to stampede through the living room.
“Outta the way—!” you called, your voice sharp with determination as you sprinted past the kitchen doorway. Your shoes slammed against the tile floor, hair whipping behind you like a banner.
Mammon barely managed to dodge out of your way, clutching his breakfast in horror. “Oi! What’s the big idea?! You tryin’ to kill me before I finish my toast?!”
You didn’t answer—you were timing your laps. One more turn, one more sprint, one more fraction of a second shaved off your record.
In your head, the crowd roared. The wind howled. The track stretched endlessly before you, and victory shimmered just at the horizon.
“Is she… running laps in the hallway?” Leviathan blinked, halfway through an early gaming session on the couch. “Wait—she’s seriously doing it. Is this… an event quest?”
“Whatever it is, it’s loud,” Satan muttered from behind his book. He glanced up just as you darted past again, a look of pure focus in your eyes and your D.D.D. stopwatch clenched tightly in one hand. “She’s been at this for twenty minutes straight. What is she training for, exactly?”
Lucifer stepped out from his study, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It had better not be another one of Mammon’s scams involving exercise equipment.”
“Hey!” Mammon shouted indignantly, mouth still full. “I don’t do that kinda stuff anymore!”
The floorboards shook again as you made another pass. This time, you came to a stop at the end of the hall, chest heaving as you checked your time. “Personal best!” you grinned proudly, wiping sweat from your brow.
Asmo, who had been watching the spectacle in disbelief, tossed his hair dramatically. “Darling, you’re going to ruin your skin with all that sweating. And what are you wearing?”
You looked down at your workout gear — your training top, leggings, and a faint shimmer of magic-enhanced energy bands on your legs. “It’s my practice outfit!” you said cheerfully. “I’ve gotta stay in top shape if I want to win the next race.”
“Race?” Beel’s head immediately perked up from the fridge. “Are there snacks involved?”
You laughed, shaking your head. “Not that kind of race. It’s an actual competition! I’m training to earn the Triple Crown!”
The brothers all froze.
“…The Triple Crown?” Mammon said finally.
“The Triple Crown,” you repeated proudly. “It’s a huge goal for Uma Musume! Winning all three major races in a season—Satsuki Sho, Tokyo Yushun, and Kikuka Sho. Only the best can do it!”
Lucifer blinked slowly, the faintest look of disbelief breaking through his usual composure. “You’re… competing in horse races?”
“Well—kinda!” you said with a bright smile. “I’m an Uma Musume! It’s what I was born to do.”
There was a collective pause as six demon brains short-circuited simultaneously.
“So… wait,” Levi said cautiously, eyes wide. “You’re like… those anime horse girls? The ones who run really fast and sing after winning?”
You crossed your arms, cheeks puffing slightly. “I do not sing after every win. Only sometimes.”
Satan rested his chin on his hand, clearly amused now. “So you’re part girl, part horse?”
“Exactly!” you said proudly. “Strong legs, sharp reflexes, unbeatable speed—”
“—and a diet of hay?” Mammon interrupted.
You grinned. “Only premium quality!”
Beel looked genuinely intrigued. “If it helps with stamina, I might try some too.”
Asmo gasped. “Beel, no! You’ll ruin your complexion!”
Lucifer sighed heavily, the corner of his mouth twitching as he resisted the urge to rub his temples. “Just… don’t destroy the floors when you sprint through the halls again. I don’t need another repair bill from Diavolo.”
You saluted playfully. “Yes, sir! I’ll stick to the courtyard for intervals!”
Levi was already typing furiously on his D.D.D. “Okay, but if you’re really training for the Triple Crown, I’m documenting this. My followers will lose it when they find out I live with a real Uma Musume!”
Belphie’s sleepy voice drifted down from the stairs. “You’re all too loud… but if she wins something, wake me up for it. I’ll cheer… probably.”
You giggled, stretching your legs again. “Don’t worry, Belphie. When I win, you’ll hear me from here.”
“Please don’t,” Satan muttered under his breath, though the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him.
You flashed them all a confident grin. “Alright, boys. Break time’s over. Next lap starts now!”
Before anyone could stop you, you bolted down the hall again, magic rippling through the floor as your speed built up.
Mammon groaned, clutching his head. “I swear, we’re livin’ in some weird anime crossover…”
Lucifer exhaled, watching you go with an expression somewhere between exasperation and amusement. “Apparently… yes.”
As you disappeared around the corner in a blur of motion, the brothers could still hear your voice echoing back:
“Triple Crown, here I come!”
And despite all their confusion, more than a few of them couldn’t help but smile.
sal fisher x reader ANYTHING! Literally anything would be sufficient for me bc i’m desperate and deeply in love with sal and i just want any x reader of him like literally anything
PLEASEE THIS IS SO BAD DONT EVEN I WROTE THIS AT 2:39 AM. Might be a bit of a random use but I thought Drummer! Reader would be quite suiting. Always request again if ur going for a different vibe 🙏🙏 I've had other requests for Sal Fisher so stay updated 😛
also not proof read..
Sal Fisher x Drummer! GN! Reader!!
... Crush Headcanons!!
Story-based part !!
I could see you as the same sort of type as Larry. Chill, calm, maybe even more empathetic and understanding but in a lowkey way. I could see you guys originally being a trio to gradually dig up the romantic feelings in Sal, in a more realistic way than just him being hit with a crush.
When Sal Fisher first arrived to Addison apartments, you were probably acquainted firstly in Larry's room, located in the basement. That, or you found him snooping around one of the floors, trying to introduce himself to everyone.
Regardless, you'd be one of the very first unfamiliar faces to greet him. He introduced himself as Sal Fisher, and in return you give your name over, maybe getting comfortable with sarcastic jabs or some insight into the nearby neighbour's—which he could only chuckle at subtly, the conversation natural firsthand.
If you weren't initially with Larry, I'd see you two as close friends anyways.
As a drummer you probably have simular tastes in music and that lead you guys to bond over bands or music. You wouldn't really care so much of introducing yourself, if it weren't for the differences in appearance from him to others.
You're referring to the blue hair pulled into pigtails, as one of the first things you notice. You don't make big deals out of appearances, but you did like how his hair was. You don't really mention the 'mask', quoted by Larry, until it was brought up in conversation and you find out it's a prosthetic.
Shit.
When he was explaining you couldn't help but notice the glances towards you as he was speaking. You felt bad, of course as a initial thing to feel as you assumed something bad happened when he said he didn't want to talk about it. Still lowkey awkward, you pat his shoulder and reassure him that things get better as some poor comfort.
It was the best you could do, at the very least.
But it was quick to dismiss, the whole comment overall, and that's when Sally had pointed out either of your shirts. You'd both probably have been wearing merch from favorite bands, or more specifically drummer based for you. It had been a big hobby for you, after all, and you did like the music.
This leads you to talk about bands, and showing him music after the two of you hear of how he didn't know if he liked it or not. This may be the part you let slip that you play the drums, Larry continuing saying that you were very good at it.
Crush Headcanons !!
Of course Sally thought that your drumming skills were impressive even for when you two first met— but now so many months later, and that he's grown more fond of you and the type of music he finds it alluring. He has a bad crush on you, he realizes it, but it's like words get caught in his throat and he never brings it up.
As well as that, you're always hanging around in a group or trio, Larry usually the third wheel that always puts little comments or does certain things to bring you two closer.
How could Sal Fisher not have a romantic liking to you? First to be introduced to, really kind, priceless humor, your talents and how you carry them, the type of music you like, the music you make, the quality time spent together... it almost seemed to good, you never judged him, and it made him fall harder everyday.
You could be his crush AND his friend without forcing it.
The first few times you played the drums in front of him, he kinda bobbed his head to the beats but not as enthusiastically as you would imagine. Most of the time he was just watching you, the loud clatters and bangs you would make seemed like background noise as he just.. took it all in.
He just looked at the way you would be so happy to produce the music, but in the moment you would considerate on certain parts of pace or where you were hitting your drumsticks against the main instrument. The harsh contrast of the drums to your more mellow personality.
You'll probably teach him easy songs, him kinda freezing up with the subtle touches as you readjusted his hand to hold the drumstick properly, yk? Little gestures like that always make him swoon before he remembers what he's doing.
He'd totally buy some stickers to decorate the drumsticks and certain aspects of the drum set— bands logo's or names, maybe stickers of your other interests and so on. You might use it to be matching as well, like sticking it onto both of your phonecases and having no one else share those band stickers.
Probably will face time/text you a lot for stupid questions or opinions on bands or what you think is best— he'd ask about bands or music taste to see more about your interests at first, but then eventually(or more like in the few weeks of knowing) will he pick up on your habits.
Refuses to let you see his face underneath the prosthetic when you mention it, or ask specifically about it. Only because he doesn't want to ruin the image of himself for you, since that would be really embarrassing.
But if you do it out of comfort or if in need to help him(Just as Ash did in the game) without flinching, he would probably be more open to removing it more often when you're around once he gets comfortable.
Maybe, Will never bring up the fact he likes you word for word, but by his actions you could get an idea. He's more flustered then he would like to admit, luckily the prosthetic hiding his face hides his slightly pink cheeks.
He loves hearing you talk about everything and everything, and that's how he shows his subtle affection for you.
The room was a slow kind of chaos — air thick with humidity and the faint trace of cigarette ash clinging to the curtains. The radiator hummed low in the corner, an uneven pulse that matched the rhythm of Nam-gyu’s breathing against your chest.
He lay half across you, skin warm but clammy, the weight of him almost grounding — almost. His hair brushed your jaw, damp from either sweat or the rain he hadn’t shaken off when he stumbled through your door an hour ago. The scent of him was an uneasy mixture of smoke, cheap cologne, and something sharp and chemical that didn’t belong.
Your fingers traced the bones of his back through his shirt, feeling every tremor that passed through him. Beneath your touch, he was alive — but barely anchored, as if some invisible thread was the only thing keeping him tethered to this room.
Outside, rain fell in thin, hissing sheets against the windowpane. Each drop streaked downward like a clock counting the seconds you didn’t want to face.
He shifted, mumbling something — your name maybe, or the ghost of it — and for a moment, you caught his face in the half-light. His eyes were half-lidded and unfocused, pupils wide, swimming in a universe that didn’t include you. There was a faint red mark on his neck, the residue of a night you hadn’t been there for.
You wanted to ask him where he’d gone. What he’d done. Why his hands shook even now, tucked between your ribs as though he was trying to hide them. But the words stayed trapped behind your teeth. If you asked, you’d have to hear the truth — and the truth was already sitting heavy between you, in the stale air, in the shallow rise and fall of his chest.
Nam-gyu exhaled, his voice rough and slurred at the edges.
“I’m fine… I’m just— fine.”
The lie fluttered into the space between you and died there.
You turned your head slightly, resting your chin in his hair. The strands smelled faintly of rainwater and something metallic — the kind of scent that made your stomach twist with dread. The warmth of his body seeped through your shirt, but it wasn’t the comfort it used to be. It was the warmth of a fever, of something burning itself out.
The clock on your nightstand blinked 3:47 a.m. The seconds blinked by in soft electric blue, lighting the hollow of his cheek, the bruise beneath his jaw you hadn’t noticed before.
You remembered when his laughter used to fill this room, bright and reckless. When his hands were steady. When the space between you was filled with something that wasn’t fear. Now, it felt like holding smoke — something beautiful and impossible to keep.
The rain kept falling. The world outside kept turning.
You stayed still, listening to his uneven heartbeat, wondering when loving someone started to feel like watching them vanish in slow motion.
