#emory scribbles

[intricate-ritualz]

party and jet ᯓ★

[mariscribble]

Emori heromari!

(emori made by @/shrimperini)

Request 4: Emori AU by @shrimperini!

[growup2bmegmccaffrey]

Emory Valdez-Zhang inspired by this silly post.

[mjonthetrack]

collide

Chapter Twenty: "When It Rains, It Pours"

Before Tay could chase after her best friend and the screaming Cutlass tires, she took a detour.

Right over to their booth. Bold as hell, popping her gum between her teeth, every step a little smirk.

Jimmy didn’t even register her till she was damn near in his lap.

"Hey, Jimmy," she said quick, a little nod, a sly smile flashing.

Then she turned full attention on Jey, twirling the tip of one of her braids around her finger like she was picking out dessert.

"Heyyy, sexy twin," Tay purred, all syrupy sweet, looking him up and down like he was her next meal.

Jimmy blinked, confused as hell. Jey just raised a brow, half-amused, half-suspicious.

Before either of them could say a word, Tay whipped a napkin outta nowhere, scribbled something down quick, folded it up messy as hell, and with one bold move, tucked it straight into the collar of Jey’s t-shirt.

She winked — teeth flashing, gum still popping — and jogged off, yelling back over her shoulder, "Slow the fuck down, Mo!"

The Cutlass peeled out the lot, bass rattling windows.

Gone.

Leaving just the two twins sitting there, blinking at the whirlwind that’d blown through.

Jimmy leaned back, exhaling slow, hand dragging down his face.

“Bro...” he muttered, voice thick. “The fuck just happened?”

Jey snorted, pulling the napkin out and reading the digits scrawled on it.

"Your lil prison ghost just ran out lookin’ ready to throw hands with Jesus," Jey said, stuffing the number into his pocket. "And I think I just got picked up like a piece of meat at the swap meet."

Jimmy didn’t laugh. Didn’t even crack a smile.

He just sat there, staring at the door she disappeared through, heart pounding against the inside of his ribs like he was still trying to catch up to that moment.

Jey clapped a hand on his shoulder, light but grounding.

"Two days, uce," he said low. "That’s all you need. Two days to get your head right."

Jimmy didn’t ask what was in two days.

Didn’t know yet.

Later That Night...

Jey’s phone buzzed, screen lighting up with a text from an unknown number.

Tay: Rec center kickback this Sat — bring ur in-trouble ass twin... and bring that fine ass wit you too. Weed, forties, new pool — vibe right. Don’t play wit me Jey.

Jey chuckled under his breath, shaking his head.

"Crazy ass girls," he muttered, but he ain’t delete the text.

Might be crazy. Might be messy. Might be just what both their stubborn asses needed.

Meanwhile...

In a nice-ass apartment right on the edge of the hood — gated but still close enough you could hear the ice cream truck’s busted ass jingle in the evenings — Emori was pacing.

Food still in the box, forgotten.

The apartment was all clean lines and plush couches, candles half-burnt on every table, the kind of place she built for herself out of scraped knuckles and broken dreams.

And she was losing her shit.

Tay flopped on the couch, grinning around a lollipop, pretending to listen but secretly tapping away on her phone.

“You SEEIN' this shit, Tay?!" Emori snapped, waving a fry around like it was a weapon. Tears burning hot in her eyes, words slurring together with anger and heartbreak.

"Fifteen fuckin' years, and then—BOOM!—he just sittin’ there lookin’ like—like God made him fresh out the fuckin' pan, T! Lookin’ at me like I’m the past and the future and the fuckin' present all wrapped in one and—and what the FUCK am I supposed to do with that?!"

She shoved a handful of cold fries in her mouth, talking around them.

"I ain't no bitch that cry over no man, Tay. I ain’t! I done built my whole damn life back up brick by brick and now he just—he just—"

Tears spilled over, hot and angry, and she wiped at them furious.

"I hate him for leavin' me, Tay. I hate him so fuckin' much. I hate him and I miss him and I still love him and it’s some bullshit."

Tay stayed quiet, letting her rant.

Texted Jey under the pillow:

Tay: She still love him. Just stubborn af. I got u. Saturday gonna be 🔥.

"—and I swear to GOD if he look at me like that again I’m—"

"You gon’ what, Mo?" Tay finally cut in, lollipop bobbing between her fingers. "Beat his ass? Cry in his mouth? Fall the fuck back in love?"

Emori glared, throwing a fry at her.

Tay ducked and laughed, lounging back on the couch like she didn’t just set two whole worlds on a crash course neither of them could walk away from clean.

Chapter Twenty-One: "The Calm Before the Storm"

The Cutlass was long gone, just the faint ghost of bass still rumbling through the night air.

Jimmy and Jey slid back into the car, both of them quiet until Jey pulled out the lot, tires squealing a little.

Jimmy wasn’t mad. That wasn’t it. It was worse — the kind of hurt that curled inside his chest and wouldn’t let up.

“She ain’t even deny it, uce,” Jimmy finally said, voice thick like it hurt to talk. “She ain’t deny it when Tay asked her if she was still in love.”

He stared out the window, hands flexing uselessly against his jeans.

“She just told her to shut the fuck up... but she ain’t deny it. She ain’t say no.”

Jey nodded, keeping his eyes on the road, one hand tapping the steering wheel absently.

“And she looked at me, Jey,” Jimmy whispered, raw as hell. “She looked at me like I slapped the fuck outta her. Like just seein’ me hurt her worse than anything.”

Jey let the silence ride for a second before he blew out a breath through his nose.

“She still love you, uce,” he said simply. “She just don’t know what the fuck to do with it.”

Jimmy didn’t answer, just leaned his head back against the seat, jaw clenching hard enough to hurt.

Meanwhile, Jey’s phone buzzed. He thumbed it open at the next light, smirking when he saw the contact:

Tay: Your brother look like he ready to cry, poor baby. Tell him we ain’t done yet. Tell him big kickback this weekend. Tight clothes, tight bodies, good weed. Bring him. And bring that fine ass of yours too, sexy twin.

Jey chuckled low under his breath, glancing over at Jimmy, who was lost in his own storm.

He texted back quick:

Jey: I gotchu. And don’t be tryna throw it back on me either, wild girl.

Tay hit back fast:

Tay: No promises, pretty boy.

Jey shook his head, fighting a grin.

Meanwhile... across the hood...

At Emori’s apartment, a whole different storm was brewing.

The girls were sprawled out on the floor, old-school big ass quilt thrown down, Chinese takeout boxes and half-eaten fries scattered around them.

"Poetic Justice" played across the TV, Tupac’s voice low and smooth, Janet lookin’ all shy and sweet.

And Emori?

Emori was cussing Tupac the fuck out.

"I swear to GOD I hate men," she barked, waving her chopsticks at the screen like she could smack Lucky through it.

Tay, stretched out on her stomach, lazily tapping away at her phone and stealing fried rice from Emori’s carton, just grinned.

“I’ma turn into a damn nun," Emori went on, furious. "Or fuck it — maybe a lesbian. That’s what the fuck is next. I’m done, T. Over it. Stick a goddamn fork in me, sis."

Tay barely looked up from her texting, knowing good and damn well what she was doing.

Tay texting Jey: She on one. Talkin bout she hate men. Callin Pac a fuckboy. Sayin she might become a nun or a lesbian. Cryin but still fine as hell. Missin yo brother so bad it hurt.

Emori caught Tay giggling and whipped a throw pillow at her head.

"Why you laughin’, bitch?! I’m havin’ a full mental breakdown and you over there texting whoever the fuck!"

Tay caught the pillow mid-air, dramatic as hell, and flopped back laughing.

"You cute when you mad, Mo."

Emori just growled low in her throat and stabbed another dumpling with her chopsticks like it personally offended her.

"Fuck all these men, T. Every last one."

Tay just smiled, eyes glinting, sending one last text before putting her phone face down:

Tay: Yall bout to break the fuck open this weekend. Bet money.

Chapter Twenty-Two: "Dreams That Burn, Moves That Scheme"

Jimmy didn’t sleep that night.

He laid in bed, the cheap ass box fan rattling in the corner, trying to drown out the weight in his chest.

Every time he shut his eyes, she was there. Not the soft dreams that used to come — nah, this time it was her walking away.

Him standing there, dripping blood and sweat and tears, trying to reach her.

Her, in that cutlass, tires screaming against pavement, head turned away, refusing to look back.

He woke up at damn near four a.m. Soaked in sweat, breath ragged, eyes burning.

He sat on the edge of the bed, hands digging into his thighs.

"I ain't never... gon’ be enough," he whispered to the empty room.

Next morning...

Jey was damn near skipping around the apartment.

Swim trunks? Laid out. Fresh black and gold Dunks? Waiting by the door. Bottle of Henny? Chillin’ in the freezer, just enough to hit hard but still be cold as fuck. Weed? Rolled tight in a Backwood, tucked behind his ear like a king.

He was on pure evil twin vibes — and proud of it.

He grinned wide, tapping a text out to Tay.

Jey: Operation pool party about to be lit. U ready, trouble?

Tay hit back in seconds:

Tay: Born ready. And I got Mo lookin like a fuckin’ fever dream, uce. You owe me for this one.

Tay: Just wait til you see her. Snake skin bikini. Dior slides. Her nips sittin pretty. Body banging like them old school Ice Cube beats.

Jey whistled low under his breath, texting back:

Jey: You the real MVP.

He glanced over at Jimmy, who was sitting on the couch staring blank at the floor, jaw locked tight, heavy chain glinting against his black muscle tank.

"You gon’ thank me later, uce," Jey muttered under his breath, clapping Jimmy on the back. "Come on, man. Sun out, buns out. Let’s go."

Jimmy just shook his head but grabbed his shit, muttering, "Whatever, bro," under his breath.

Meanwhile...

At Emori’s place?

Straight chaos.

Tay already had her neon pink bikini on, strings tight at her hips, abs glittering under body oil.

Meanwhile, Emori stood in the middle of her room, arms crossed, glowering at the mirror.

"This fuckin' bikini is a war crime, Tay!" she barked, tugging uselessly at the stringy-ass snake skin top that barely hid the bars of her piercings.

Tay cackled, tossing her Dior slides on and adjusting her own top.

"You look like a whole ass weapon, Mo! Stop bitchin'. You gon’ kill every man in that building."

Emori rolled her eyes, but inside?

Her stomach twisted tight.

It wasn’t the men she cared about.

It was one man. The one with heavy hands and soft eyes. The one who once loved her like the world could crumble if she let go.

The snake print clung to every inch of her newly thickened hips, her ass sitting ridiculous, her curves powerful now, full grown and unbothered.

Her Dior slides slapped the floor as she followed Tay out, towel over her shoulder, oversized shades over her eyes.

"You owe me big for this shit, T," she grumbled.

Tay just winked, smacking her ass as they locked the door behind them.

"Trust me, sis. Tonight? You gon’ thank me."

Cut to:

The rec center was popping. Summer hip hop bumpin’ — Ty Dolla $ign, old YG, throwbacks like "She Knows" — the smell of grill smoke in the air, waves of weed loud as hell, forty bottles glittering in people’s hands.

The giant new pool sparkled under strung-up lights.

People were everywhere — laughing, smoking, sipping, wilding.

Emori and Tay moved through the crowd, heads turning everywhere.

Tay beamed, loving the attention.

Emori?

She didn’t even see them.

Her shades shielded her, but inside she was already fighting ghosts. Fighting him.

They found a spot at the pool’s edge, dipping bare feet into the cool water, passing a tall can of Modelo back and forth, laughing, trying to shake the weight.

Chapter Twenty-Three: "Every Regret, Every Damn Mile"

The smell hit first — weed, smoke, fried food, sweat, sweet summer.

Then the sound — bass heavy, City Girls thumping from the speakers hanging on the old shelter building's rafters, the whole damn place moving like it had a heartbeat.

Jey threw the truck in park, smirking wicked.

"Man, the fine ones out tonight, uce," he teased, slapping Jimmy on the chest as they hopped out.

Jimmy adjusted his chain, still uneasy, still pissed at himself for getting dragged here. He didn’t know why his heart was beatin' stupid fast. Didn’t know why he felt like a string was pulling him somewhere in this big ass crowd.

He followed Jey through the mix — dodging girls with box braids and hoop earrings, gold grills flashing, bodies dipped in glitter and coconut oil, forties sweating in hands.

The summer was alive.

But he barely noticed any of that — because the second his eyes hit that open shelter, his world tilted sideways.

There she was.

Under those cheap-ass fairy lights, the world slowed.

Emori — Mo — his Mo — Bent slightly over, hands on her knees, laughing that bright, sharp laugh he could hear even through the damn music.

Tipsy off a 40oz, pink tongue poking out between glossy lips, them snake skin strings struggling to hold the lethal shape of her body together.

The snake print barely covering full round tits, the bars of her nipple piercings glinting under the lights. Flat stomach with a glint of metal at her belly button, thighs thick, ass even thicker, the weight of her curves bouncing like a fuckin' hypnotist spell every time she threw her ass back against Tay who was cackling like a demon.

She was chaos. She was destruction incarnate.

Jimmy's throat locked tight, body gone ice cold while burning up from the inside out.

She was older. Finer. Realer. More deadly.

The long braids swaying across her glowing brown shoulders, bamboo earrings catching every bit of the low lighting. That snake print was damn near illegal, the way it clung to the fat of her hips and thighs, the strings digging into her caramel-dipped skin like sin itself.

He couldn’t even breathe.

He swore he could still taste her name.

"Fuck," he muttered, rubbing a hand down his face like he could erase what he was seeing.

Jey whistled low beside him, wide grin splitting his face.

"Yo..." he said under his breath, cracking up. "Told you the pool parties bring the demons out, uce. You look like you seen a damn ghost."

Jimmy didn’t answer.

Couldn’t.

His entire body was locked up, stuck in the middle of the crowd, while the only girl who had ever truly mattered was out there living without him.

Throwing that fat ass back without a care in the world.

And it killed him.

He ain’t seen a damn thing like it in his life — and he been around enough to know real when he saw it.

The snake print strings. The sweaty curves. The careless, reckless, gorgeous fucking laughter. It was murder.

And it was his own damn fault.

Every day lost. Every letter not delivered. Every visit denied.

All of it crashed into him at once like a tidal wave.

He dug his nails into his palms.

"Goddamn, Mo..."

Jey, fully evil now, popped the top off a Corona, elbowed him.

"Come on, bro. Let's get closer. Shit, I might just go shoot my shot if you ain't."

Jimmy's head snapped toward him, death glare ignited.

"Don't even play with me right now, uce," he growled low.

Jey just laughed, already walking toward the shelter crowd.

Jimmy followed — heart jackhammering, hands shaking, jaw clenched — every nerve in his body screaming.

Every step closer, her scent cut through the chaos. Coconut oil. Brown sugar. Fanta pineapple.

The same.

But different.

Stronger. Finer. Fuckin' devastating.

And he was stuck in it.

No escape.

Chapter Twenty-Four: "The One That Got Away — And Knew It"

Jimmy damn near crushed the bottle of Corona in his hand.

He was sweating, not from the heat, but the rage and regret seeping into his bloodstream like poison.

Jey was hollering somewhere, hyping the scene up, but Jimmy barely heard him — too locked in.

Because right there under the raggedy ass fairy lights, Mo and Tay had climbed on top of one of the old ass folding tables. The music shifted — the bass thudding so hard it rattled the damn pavement. "Get It Sexy" blaring.

And baby — Mo moved like she was trying to kill somebody's son.

Half the bottle of Duce tilted in her hand, the other arm wrapped around Tay's waist, laughing and throwing it back like it was a damn competition.

The snake print bikini was criminal. Her thick thighs flashing every time she dropped low, ass jiggling like a fucking earthquake, the strings on her hips threatening to snap. The glint of the belly ring flashing. The heavy sway of them full tits, bars of her nipple piercings winking through the snake print with every body roll.

Sweat slicking her skin to gold under the lights.

A goddess dipped in sin.

Mo in full demon mode.

Tay was laughing her ass off, but Jimmy's focus was surgical — the way Mo gripped that Duce bottle like a damn trophy, pouring a little over her wrist and licking it off, then tossing her braids over her shoulder, body winding slow and mean.

It wasn’t just sexy.

It was violent.

It was years of pain, years of surviving, years of freedom she’d earned with every goddamn tear she shed for him.

And she was up there owning it.

Free. Ruthless. Unreachable.

Jimmy swallowed hard, the jealousy burning up his throat.

She wasn’t his anymore.

Hell — maybe she never really had been.

And even surrounded by old faces from the hood, by sweaty bodies and hungry ass dudes clockin’ her every move, it was still her spotlight. Nobody could touch her.

Not even him.

Not anymore.

He didn’t even realize he’d taken a step forward until Jey grabbed his shoulder, snickering.

"Cool out, uce," Jey said low, amused but cautious. "You run up on her now lookin' like you about to snatch her off that table, security gon' tackle your big ass."

Jimmy didn’t laugh.

Couldn’t.

He just stood there, fists clenched, watching the love of his life — the one girl who had waited, hurt, built herself outta the ashes of his mistakes — dance like she was untouchable.

Like she ain’t even know he still existed.

And the worst part?

She looked happy.

Not fake happy. Not "trying to forget" happy. Real happy. Drunk. Wild. Untamed.

Living in a way he could never give her back.

Every body roll. Every bottle tip. Every braid whip.

It was another bullet straight to his chest.

And he just stood there, bleeding out in slow motion, while the whole hood threw a party around him like his world wasn’t ending.

Chapter Twenty-Five: "The Devil's In The Details"

The tension was thick, but Tay was in her element — always the mastermind, always knowing exactly how to push Mo past the edge. She’d slipped her bestie that last shot of tequila like it was nothing, knowing damn well what was coming next.

And Mo? She was already tipsy, maybe even more than that. Half a bottle of Duce in her system, with the liquor mixing with a shot of reckless confidence. Her edges were gone, and so was any pretense of holding back. Tay had hit the right nerve, making sure the night pushed every button Jimmy didn’t even know was still there.

Tay turned her head and gave Jey a wicked little smirk as Mo danced — no, she wasn’t just dancing. She was performing.

Glorilla was booming from the speakers now, that bass deep and thick, thumping against the walls, the crowd bouncing with the beat.

Mo wasn’t about to let any of these dudes off easy.

Her body was a weapon, and she wielded it like she owned the damn place. The split came out of nowhere — so smooth it was almost a challenge to see how fast she could get low before flipping back up, nails long and gleaming like claws, catching the neon light in every angle.

And then, she threw herself into it.

The music was her rhythm. Her body was the perfect match for it.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Every time she twerked, it felt like the room shook. The beat ran through her bones, her hips moving like liquid. She had no care for who was watching, no concern about who was paying attention. This wasn’t for anyone else — not for Montez, not for the guys leaning against the pool, and definitely not for Jimmy.

This was all for her. She was finally free.

She dropped down into a split that damn near made the whole crowd stop, catching the air with a wicked grin on her face, nails up in the middle fingers, tongue out. Flawless.

Tay? Laughing her ass off. Screaming out, “Get ‘em, Mo! Get ‘em, Mo!” like she was the proudest best friend in the world.

But Jimmy?

He was standing there frozen, every word from the night before replaying in his mind like an echo.

“I’m done.”

“It’s too late for me.”

Jey’s voice cut through the haze of his thoughts. “You gonna go get her or what? You been standing here like a damn statue for ten minutes now.”

Jimmy couldn’t even respond. His mind was too far gone, too tangled in what he saw in front of him. Mo? She was herself again. Not the woman he remembered — no, this was the woman who survived the worst of everything and came out stronger than ever.

The body? Damn near flawless. The attitude? Unbreakable. But it wasn’t just that.

It was the confidence. The control. She was no longer waiting for anything — not for him, not for any of them. She was living, fully alive in a way he hadn’t seen in years. A part of him hated it. Another part — the part that wanted to crawl back into her arms, to take back what he lost — was desperate for it.

He wasn’t ready for this.

But Tay was. She knew the game, knew exactly how to play it.

She was on her phone, typing away like she’d already planned it all out. She shot a quick message over to Jey, a sly grin creeping across her face. This was how it was going down. She was getting Mo over the edge — and the rest would follow.

Mo didn’t care about the fact that her ex was somewhere lurking, or that the whole damn hood was watching.

The music pumped louder, shaking the air around her, and she was in her own world. A world where she wasn’t some sad girl crying on her knees for someone who wouldn’t even remember her name. She was Mo. The one everyone looked at with hunger in their eyes, the one who danced like she had no limits.

The crowd? They were here for her. They knew. They could feel it in the way she moved — this wasn’t some half-hearted attempt to get attention. This was a woman who had suffered and survived, and now she was showing the world exactly who the fuck she was.

And maybe, just maybe, she was making Jimmy remember too.

Chapter Twenty-Six: "The Final Countdown"

The heat in the air was thick, and so was the anticipation. Tay could feel it — she had a sixth sense when it came to these things, and right now? The energy was about to shift. She glanced at Jey’s phone, already typing up the message with a grin, as Mo threw her body into another round of crazy, reckless dancing. The way she moved was a dangerous combination of playful and wild, and Tay knew exactly what it would do to Jimmy when he finally got close enough.

Her fingers slid across the keys quickly, her eyes glinting with amusement.

“This combo 'bout to have Mo real loose... like, come out that bikini top loose. Get ready, Jey.”

She hit send before she even finished the thought. Mo was on the verge, but Tay was prepared for it to tip her over the edge.

Meanwhile, Mo wasn’t even thinking about what was going on around her anymore. The liquor was doing its job, and the music was her only focus now. One arm was reaching up, her fingers brushing against the top of her bikini halter, as she threw her body in wild, rhythmic movements.

The crowd was cheering her on, but for Mo? This wasn’t about them. Not anymore. She was in her own world, dancing like she hadn’t a care in the world.

And then... it happened.

Her fingers slipped beneath the straps of her bikini top, adjusting it, unaware that the man she’d tried so hard to forget had been watching her every move.

Jey saw the shift, too. He glanced at his phone, reading the message from Tay, and grinned.

“Well damn,” he muttered to himself. The corners of his mouth lifted in that familiar smirk. He’d seen it all, but this? This was next-level. He nudged Jimmy with his elbow, already knowing what was about to go down. “Yo, your girl ‘bout to get real loose, uce.”

But Jimmy? He wasn’t even listening. His mind wasn’t on the conversation. His eyes were locked on Mo, who was now tugging at the top of her bikini, loosening it in a way that sent a chill through him. The sight of her pulling on it — so damn carefree, so alive — hit him harder than anything. It was like she was giving the world, him included, a look at the part of her that wasn’t meant for anyone’s eyes but her own.

That was it. That was the moment.

Jimmy stood up, his body moving before his mind could process it. His heart raced as he pushed through the crowd, a singular focus in his mind. He could barely hear the muffled laughter, the music, the voices calling out. All he could hear was the pounding of his own pulse, drowning everything else out.

Jey saw it happening. He saw Jimmy on the move, and he could only smirk.

“Bout damn time,” Jey muttered under his breath, then laughed to himself.

Mo’s body was in full motion. Her hips rolled, her chest lifted, and as her hands gripped the top of her bikini, it was as if everything in the world disappeared. She didn’t care about the stares or the murmurs — she was just living.

But that’s when she felt it — a presence. She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. It was like a force, a pull she couldn’t deny.

Jonathan.

The way her heart skipped when she felt his eyes on her. The way everything froze for just a moment, but only for a second.

She continued moving, trying to shake the feeling off, but it lingered.

And then, she turned. Her eyes locked with his. And for the first time that night, everything stopped.

Jimmy didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to. His gaze spoke volumes — angry, hurt, yet desperate.

Mo stood there, staring back at him, chest heaving slightly from the intensity of the dance, and the fire in her eyes matched the storm swirling in his.

Tay's phone buzzed. She read the message from Jey: “You ready for this?”

She smirked, knowing it was finally happening. Mo and Jimmy were about to meet at the center of all the things that had been simmering for years. There was no more avoiding it.

Mo's breath caught in her throat.

She was still standing there, locked in the unspoken tension with Jimmy. No words were necessary — not yet. They were both feeling it, the way their history collided with the present. She felt the weight of it, the ache that had never quite gone away, the one that came with seeing him again after all this time.

But before anything could happen, she took a deep breath, gritted her teeth, and turned to walk off.

Jimmy couldn’t move.

The space between them felt miles long. He couldn’t reach her, couldn’t stop her. But that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she was still there — still here, still her.

[roachcult]

Here take some men

[morgue-ratt]

B L O O D F E S T: week II

Gore, fluff, toys, CNC

Asa Emory x Collected! reader in God Complex

word count: 1k // warnings: amputation

YOU didn’t want to the think about what had been done but every time you were alone, the scene replayed in your mind’s eye. It made your head spin, the series of events and how bizarre the world within the Collector’s personal palace was. No one could really appreciate the suffocating fear that wove its through every inch of this place and you, trapped, had no choice but to breathe it in until it was all you were, all you had left. The fear. 

And he still could make it worse. Behind the mask those black eyes gleamed, pratically spilling over with all those horrible plans. Things that no normal man would even consider and made whatever cold heart he had fill with joy.  

He let you out of the trunk, you were no longer alone and the scene faded as he sat you on his lap, running his large and gloved hands all over you. What was left of you. You had to lean against his broad chest to keep balanced, feeling small and barely like a person.  

And what did he feel like? How long had you been here, trying to study him and get inside his head? He brushed his hand over your hair and you hoped he’d think to brush it soon, but you knew better than to ask. You flinched, only slightly, when his hand crept across your throat but he noticed, of course he noticed. He studied you almost as intently as you studied him. His grip slowly tightened and tightened and tightened until you were struggling to breathe, jerking awkwardly on his lap until he exhaled—the closest thing you’d ever heard to his laugh– and he let go. You coughed and hung your head, breathing deeply.  

That’s what he felt like. He felt like God. Choosing who died and who he took away like his own Rapture. He had deemed you worthy. Every day, each and every day he deemed you worthy, even now. He let go of your throat, he allowed you to breathe, he allowed you to live. Part of him wanted you, he just hadn’t ever wanted all of you.  

You straightened up and went back to nestling your head into the crook if his shoulder. You found his heart beat soothing now.  

Sometime ago you’d been taken from your room and down to the third floor. The third floor was where the Collector kept the dogs, his horrifying preservation projects and the blinding white room which you thought of as the infirmary. You didn’t like the third floor; you liked the safety of your room where he wouldn’t risk staining the carpet. The third floor was for messes.  

When he lifted you onto the operating table you whimpered, trying to think of something, anything to say that spare you from the Collector’s plans but he brought a finger to his lips and your eyes brimmed with tears. You stayed perfectly still as he dragged your clothes off your frame; it wasn’t anything memorable. He gave you a clean change of clothes once a week, sometimes they were in your size. This week, the tee shirt was far too big. You didn’t even react when he patted your head. He had you lay down, not exactly forcing you but you knew there was no hope in fighting him. The fear seeped from the walls and into your racing heart.  

When he strapped your arm down, you started to hyperventilate, your chest rising and falling. He took his time, going to the other side of the table and dragging his hand across your stomach. You felt bile rise in the back of your throat as he secured your other arm. You were sobbing by the time he strapped down your legs, you couldn’t help it. Sobbing so hard you were hiccupping. He was doing something else now, making his way around the table again, wrapping your arms in leather straps, tighter than the restraints. So tight that it hurt, you didn’t understand. He knew you wouldn’t try to run, wouldn’t try to fight.  

He brushed his hand across your cheek. “Shhhhh.” 

You tried to stop shaking, tried to steady your breathing. He pulled away and you craned your neck to see as he leaned over his cart of tools. You moved your head as much as you could, following his movement. You couldn’t see what it was that he selected, and you didn’t like that. With measured steps, he went down the table towards your legs, his body getting in the way so you couldn’t see. It wasn’t until he was standing at the end of the table that you saw what he was holding clearly in cold and clinical light. The Collector was holding a saw. He wasn’t paying any attention to you, or rather he was, running his hand over your shin as it went slowly purple and numb.  

Your scream cut through the quiet as soon as the saw cut through your skin and into your flesh. The spray of blood flashed through the air, landing on his mask and becoming lost in the dark fabric. You were sure that alone with the pain you could feel the saw, reverberating up up your tibia. You twisted in the restrained, you twisted in pure agony, feeling it as your blood pooled beneath you on the table. 

The sounds you made were inhuman, howling like a wounded animal. You screamed, you screamed until it blended in with the sound of his saw, you screamed until it didn’t mean anything, you screamed until you physically couldn’t, your vocal cords in shreds and you wept. Your tears felt heavy and you felt heavy and unconsciousness swooped mercifully over you. 

You woke later. Time had no real meaning; it wasn’t permitted in his domain. You weren’t in your trunk, weren’t in your usual room, this was somewhere new. There was red wallpaper with black flowers, a thick rug over thinning carpet. There was no trunk; you were on a bed with pillows and blankets. You were given new clothes now, things that were meant to be flattering and he dressed you up in something new every day. He spent more time with you, bringing you food twice a day now, and you would soon learn to bask in his attention like a lizard in the sun. But these were things you noticed later, when you’d been given the time to find the bright side. Things you noticed later, after the shock. And the horror, the visceral grief and sickening loss.  

You cried for days and he would come to comfort you. He’d hold you close and stroke your hair while you pressed your cheek to his heart and his sweater soaked up all your tears. You started to see the benevolence in those black eyes.  

[spinning-stars]

Horror characters favorite color 🩷

I just wanted to head cannon some horror characters and their favorite color and make mini stories.

Warnings- Petty Lester.

Vincent Sinclair-

Green, but not just any green, a muddy dark green. He owns at least 30 green pens either in that color or close to that color.

Lester Sinclair- Deep red, when he was a kid his favorite color was dark blue but then Bo told him that he couldn't have that color because it was his favorite color and that Lester needed to be more Original. He's still petty about Bo taking his favorite color as a kid.

Bo Sinclair- Dark blue, he says it's a manly color. He once got a red hat and came back to it scribbled on in black sharpie 'Get your own color bitch.' written in Lester's handwriting.

Thomas Hewitt- an orangy yellow, he says it reminds him of the sun and sunflowers. (He really likes sunflowers)

Bubba Sawyer- yellow, chop top calls him "little piss boy" bc of it.

Chop top- the entire rainbow, he just likes colors he does lean a bit more towards purple and green tho.

Asa Emory- purple, he eats, sleeps and snorts the color purple.

Michael Myers (both the Rob zombie version and the regular Micheal)- pink, not even trying to be funny I genuinely think these two just fuck with the color pink.

Jason Voorhees- brown, bc "it's the color of a tree"

Billy lenz- sage green, bc green.

Authors note- Hiii 👋 u just wanted to make a silly little post bc I just got a shirt that was my favorite color (sage green) have a lovely day, and for my bone lovers check out my other Sfw x reader post! <3

Bonus question!- What's y'all's favorite color?

[loafsbakery]

hey stranger | j.m.

A/N: Long time no see :D Bee is just a nickname for the reader. character has no name and is still reader insert.

Synopsis: after a tense split between you and Joel, he finds you again, but do you want to see him anymore?

Genre: angst and fluff

Warnings: Age gap (15+ years) 

Pairing: joel miller x f!reader, OC!Emory x reader

Main Masterlist

You found Joel and Ellie at Frank and Bill’s house. A couple years after Joel met them, they found you. You were a teenager, and your brother had turned into a runner. 

Frank took pity on you, and asked Bill to take you in with them. He relented of course, but what choice did he really have. If Frank asked for something, Bill rarely ever denied him. 

What was supposed to be temporary turned long term. You stayed with them and they were the only family you had. They talked a whole lot about Tess and Joel, although you could see Bill’s dislike for the guy. 

You finally met him, and a younger girl. The first thing you noticed was how handsome he was despite the permanent scowl on his face. The second thing you noticed was the gun he held up to your face.

“What are you doin here?” He ushered the girl behind him and she listened dutifully.

You squinted your eyes at him, seeing the connections from his features to the descriptions of Bill and Frank. “Joel? Joel Miller?”

“What the hell.” He muttered under his breath. 

He lowers the gun slightly, but not by much. “Bill-” You swallow thickly. “He left a letter for you and... Tess, but she’s not- sorry, let me get it.”

Joel keeps his gun up as he follows you, Ellie not far behind. He notices the picture of the three of you together, and he wonders how Bill was able to find a camera. 

“Here.” You hold out a piece of paper with his name scribbled on it. He doesn’t take it, but the girl behind him takes it much to his dismay and reads it. 

You mess with your hands trying your best to not remember your own letter that he had left for you. Sadness displayed on every corner of your face as Ellie finished reading the letter. 

Joel’s face remained the same, although his gun was fully lowered now. He took the letter that explained who you were as well as everything else. It was most certainly his handwriting and his voice in those words. “He said you would come one day. I guess it’s nice to meet you finally.” 

He just grunts at your hospitality. Ellie rolls her eyes and sticks out her hand. “I’m Ellie.” She sticks out her hand and right as you are about to take it you see the mark.

“Shit.” You bite out, quickly grabbing your gun and point it at her. Joel moves quickly in front of her and his gun is on you again. “She’s infected Joel.”

“She’s not.” He grunts out.

Ellie holds her hands out in front of you. “I promise, I’m immune, I’ve had this for over three weeks. We’re trying to get a cure from it please. I promise.” 

Your brother’s eyes flash back into your memory, how he pleaded for death after being bitten and how you had to grant it to him. But she didn’t look anything like your brother did after a couple hours. And you assume Joel wouldn’t take a risk like that on himself either. “I’m sorry.” You whisper. “Well, I’m Bee. Can I help?” 

Thus began your adventure with the pair and your unlikely relationship with Joel. Ellie was easy and could talk for hours, you and Ellie would have competitions to see if you could make Joel laugh. You were pushing 40 but still were so lively in comparison to Joel. 

“What do you miss about before, Joel?” You asked as Ellie slept behind you two.

He hardened almost instantly, he did this every time you asked of life before. You weren’t sure what it was, but you would have hoped he would confide in you one day. 

“I miss showers.” You laughed. “That and sushi probably.”

Joel coughed out a small laugh. “That raw fish is shit.”

You feigned hurt and slapped his shoulder. “Joel Miller you take that back.” 

He tried his damndest not to care about Ellie and not to love you. It was hard. So painfully hard not to love both of you. Ellie who was just as spunky and full of everything good like Sarah. Sarah who would have befriended Ellie if she could of. And you. You never not had a smile on your face, regardless of the situation. 

So he took care of you the only way he knew how. He kept you alive and got so incredibly mad when you would put yourself in danger. He loved you, but he would never let you know that. 

But you did. You knew it from the way he gave you an extra bar of food from his own stash, you knew it from the eyes he keeps on you when he thinks you can’t see. And one day you give Joel a kiss on the cheek. He coughs it off and looks away from you. You chuckle and squeeze his shoulder before going back to your sleeping bag. 

Then one day it blew up. You had met Tommy and his wife Maria and saw a picture of a young girl he kept in his coat pocket when it fell out. “Is this your daughter?” You asked Tommy with Ellie beside you.

He shook his head. “Niece.” The two of you obviously understood what that meant and a lump appeared in your throat. Your heart breaking for the man you have come to love. His hatred for the state of the world was already justified, but knowing this. You can’t imagine how he’s survived so long with the weight of this. 

A bit after you continue your journey without Tommy and Maria. You hug Joel from behind and he places his hands on top of yours, putting down the tools he was using to set up camp.

“Joel.” You whisper. “I’m so sorry about Sarah.” You thought it would maybe bring you closer but he pulled away.

“How did you- don’t. Don’t you mention her name.” Joel felt his heart break the way it did every time he let himself remember his baby. 

You step closer only for him to step back. “Joel, I love you, I just want to help you.” You might as well have slapped him from the way he looked about you.

He pointed a finger at you. “Don’t come snoopin’ in my life. You’re on thin fuckin’ ice right now.” 

“I just want- I love you, and I know you love me. Please just let me in.”

Joel’s head shook from side to side. “No I don’t. I don’t know where you got that idea from but that ain’t it. I didn’t even want you to come with us, but really what choice do I have when you’re always puttin’ yourself where you don’t belong.” 

“Please, you don’t mean that.”

“Try me. You could leave right now and I wouldn’t care whether you ended up dead or alive.” In the same way as Joel’s, your heart broke, and what was left of it hurt your chest.

Joel took off, angry you brought Sarah up, angry all over again for the way she was taken from him. Ellie watched quietly as you cried and leaned against the wall holding yourself. She had gotten to know you pretty well, and she knew of everything you had gone through so she hugged you as you cried, trying to comfort you.

“I don’t think he meant it.” She would say.

You shook your head, tears staining her shirt. “I’m so sorry El, you have to be stronger than me okay? Promise?”

“Promise.” She wouldn’t know what that meant until the next morning when she woke up and you were gone. 

She woke up earlier than she would normally, she only knows that because Joel was still asleep. Ellie saw the note left by her sleeping bag, her name on it in a similar manner to the note Bill left long ago. 

I’m so sorry baby girl, I love you so much, please take care of yourself and Joel. He needs you. 

Ellie’s breathing picked up. Her worst fears coming true. You left her. Rationally, she knew why you left, but it didn’t change the overall fact that you left her. “Joel.” She cried out getting up. “Joel!” She cried harder and Joel bolted to her side with his gun in hand.

“What Ellie. Are you okay? Where is Bee, Ellie?” He asked looking all around for you. “Where is she?”

Ellie cried handing him the note you left. “She’s gone. She’s- she’s gone cause of you Joel! Because you were so mean to her. She-” Ellie’s crying caused her to start hiccuping and she couldn’t breathe. Joel lowered his gun, ignoring the pain in his chest and held her close. Crying how it was his fault you left and that you abandoned her. 

The guilt Joel failed to feel last night came at him full force, and there was nothing he could do. He wouldn’t be able to find you, and contrary to what he said last night, he cared about you a whole lot, and you being gone caused so much panic in his head knowing he couldn’t do anything. 

He couldn’t do anything but hold Ellie while she cried, his own feelings stifled by her loud ones. 

Ever since you were little you had someone looking over you. Your brother, Bill and Frank, Joel. You have never known what it was like to be truly alone. Until now anyway.

When you had to figure out the map by yourself. Figure out where to even go. You remembered something about Tommy being in Jackson. He was the only friend outside of Joel and Ellie that you had. So you attempted to make your way there, gun in hand, scared for your life.

There were a few incidents with clickers, one got a little too close for comfort, but you kept yourself safe. It was a feeling you never had before. You did protect yourself before, but in case you weren’t strong enough, someone was always there. And now you had no room for errors.

You were more nervous about bumping into someone, as only really crazy people wander out so far. Thankfully, your walk to Jackson didn’t include interacting with anyone really. 

But that also meant it was really lonely. You would cry to sleep hoping Joel and Ellie were okay. That they were safe and you were happy they had each other, because you were so lonely. 

It was your choice to leave, but it was only after the cruel things Joel had said, and it did look like he meant it. He never came to apologize, but you regret it a little if only for Ellie. 

It was too late, you had no idea where they were, and it would be dangerous for you to just wander with no real place in mind.

Eventually, you made it to Jackson and reunited with Tommy and Maria who welcomed you with open arms. Literally, you ran straight at them and hugged them tight, relishing in the human touch you missed so much.

“Bee, are Joel and Ellie okay?” Tommy asks worried.

You nod pulling back a bit. “Why are you here all alone, Bee?” Maria asks this time.

“It’s a- a bit of a story. I left. I don’t really think they needed me.” Tommy nods, understanding that his brother sabotaged himself from something good like he always does. 

Maria ignores the pensiveness from the younger Miller brother and ushers you in the town. “We have a couple new houses Tommy finished up, and there’s some jobs you can take up.” She explains.

They let you stay with them for that night, and you moved into your new house the next day. It was really close to the farm they had, so you decided to run it. Tommy had been going there periodically with Maria, but it needed constant care. You were more than willing to be surrounded by some animals. There was even a German Shepard who took to you quickly named Lily. She was about six years old, and she was the sweetest. 

A few weeks after feeling settled you decided to go out to the town bar that everyone frequented. You sat with Maria chatting as Tommy socialized with the other townspeople. 

“Emory has been looking at you since we got here.” You turn to see who she meant and it was the same guy who kept coming to the farm with new appliances for the animals. He always made things. “He’s cute, Bee.

“He stops by the farm a lot, I didn’t realize I never knew his name.” You explain, but as you go to turn back around he walks towards you sitting beside you. 

He smiles joyfully, and you take a better look at him. It was true, he was handsome, and he was much closer in age to you. Though you loved Joel still, Maria kept telling you that moving on was something you had to get on. That you shouldn’t wait for Joel to ever come around. 

You thought you knew Joel well enough, and because of that you figured she was right. “Hi Miss Maria.” He flashes her a warm smile.

Maria smiles at the two of you cheekily. “Hello Emory, nice seein’ you around. Been some time.”

Emory chuckles at her callout. “I’ve been busy workin’ on some new project for the farm. Wanted to help Bee out... make it easier to care for em’.” 

You felt your face warm at his admission and you finally look at him. “I’m so sorry, I never got your name. I feel so rude.”

He shakes his head softly. “We’re all square Bee. I like helpin’ y’out.” A new song played in the small bar and he lit up. “You wanna dance Bee? Haven’t heard this song in ages.” 

Maria sends an obvious look your way and you take the hand he had out for you. His smooth southern voice reminded you of Tommy and Joel, and you wondered if he knew them too. 

He danced with you slowly, you had never danced like this with anyone before, but it felt nice. You felt wanted. “I really am sorry I never got your name before. You’ve been so helpful to me.”

“It ain’t your fault.” He reasoned as he swayed with you, his hands on your sides. “I just wanted to know everything about you.”

You giggled quietly. “Definitely not everything.”

“Everything.” He nodded. 

From then on, you saw Emory a lot more. Lily liked him enough to greet him at the door. He made stuff for you personally now. A bed frame, furniture. You two would take strolls on the horses, and it was one of your first date. 

Four months into dating Emory and you felt yourself finally beginning to maybe letting go of Joel Miller. You still loved him, but maybe you could make room in your heart for Emory. 

It was hard. There was so much about Joel you loved, and even now you couldn’t let go of it, but you tried convincing yourself he wouldn’t want you anyway. And here was this great guy who wanted you. There really was only one choice.

Yet one random day, you were feeding the pigs with Lily you hear the gate open. Emory said he would be back later today, but you smile knowing he got off early. “Welcome back.” You smile happily as you turn around.

Whatever else you had to say dies on your lips when you come face to face with Joel Miller. His hands at his sides looking as devastatingly handsome as he did the first time you saw him. “Hi Bee.”

His voice is smooth as it always was. Your hands clench feeling your breathing getting faster. “Hi.” You breathe out. 

“I’m-” Joel paused holding back all the words he wants to say. “I’m so happy you’re okay.” 

Your nose scrunches at his admission. “I didn’t think that would be the case.” Joel’s words came back to you and it hurt just as bad as it did when he said them, but you weren’t going to try to make amends with Joel. “Is Ellie here?” He nods. “Where?” You ask eagerly.

“Walk with me.” He’s already turning around and you walk quickly with Lily to catch up. She walks cautiously towards Joel, and when she’s close enough he bends down to pet her. Her tail wags like crazy as she lick Joels hands. He chuckles at the furry creature, and you watch quietly. “What’s her name?”

“Lily.” 

He nods and continues to walk forward.

You see her before she sees you. She’s talking about something with Tommy. You run as fast as you can and squeeze her from behind. She’s quick to turn around and takes you in. “Bee!” She cries out squeezing you in a hug again.

“I’m so sorry baby girl. I missed you so much.” You cry into her. Finally believing that her and Joel are alive. 

“S’okay.” She blubbers out, crying with you. “I understood.”

Once you let go you wipe your tears away and look back at Joel, feeling very emotional. “I’m happy you’re okay.”

He nods. “I’m so damn grateful you made it.” He’s about to say something else before your name is called out. 

“Hey Bee, are you alright sweetheart.” Emory inspects your face as you nod.

He turns back to Joel and Ellie who has a scrunched up face. “Hey, nice to meet y’all.”

You gesture to the two of them. “That’s Joel, Tommy’s brother, and Ellie. This is Emory” 

Joel nods stiffly while Ellie waves a hand around. The two of you walk off and he takes you to the farm. “You knew them?”

You nod stiffly. “Travelled with them for a bit.” That was that. Emory left you to tend to the animals, promising to spend more time together tomorrow. 

Of course Joel couldn’t really keep away from you. Not when for the longest time he didn’t know you were alive or dead. He got in through the gate and Lily immediately greeted him, so happy to see him. “Hello sweetie.”

Her happy barks echoed throughout the place, so you went back out to see him with her. It made you feel warm, but the dread you felt from before crept back in. “Can I help you Joel?”

He slowly pushes off his knees to stand back up. “I just wanted to see you.”

“You saw me earlier.” You point out.

“Not enough.” 

The two of you remain quiet for a while, letting Lily’s soft panting and the noise from the farm linger between you.

“I’m sorry Sweet Bee.” Your eyes shut, not wanting to look at him. “I didn’t mean it.” It’s been so long without any sort of apology that the emotions from the argument come back as if it was fresh. “You just... thinking about her?” Joel sighs softly trying his best to explain without falling apart from the loss. “It breaks my heart all over again- my baby girl. I’ve been so angry, at everything that took her from me.” Your eyes squeeze to prevent the tears that form from his grief to fall. You feel it, just like you did back then. “I was so angry I didn’t realize I was losin’ you in that process.”

Joel didn’t cry, he’s worked hard over the years to keep his feelings to himself. But he almost did. Watching you break down in sympathy for him, for Sarah. It tears him apart. “I’m sorry Joel. I know I’ll never really understand, but fuck if it doesn’t hurt all the same. I’m so sorry Joel.” 

Your words don’t come as shock, but it’s warm. It’s honest and your sadness for him is welcomed this time instead of pushed aside. He closes the distance between the two of you, pulling you to him. “I was so scared, Bee. Scared you were hurt and there was nothin’ I could to to help you.” You nod crying into his chest, your knuckles clenching together. “And I do love you Bee. I really do.”

His admission has you freezing in his hold, guilt creeping in for the man who has been nothing but doting on you since you got to Jackson. You pull back from him to finally look at him. “Joel I-”

“I know you’re with that kid.” Joel sighs. “But I felt like you deserved to know after I- after I lied. Quite terribly.” He leaves a small kiss on your forehead before pulling back and leaving you be.

Unfortunately, it only left you more lost than before. You closed up farm early and headed home with Lily. It was true that you still loved Joel, but you did care about Emory, and was it fair to let him go after everything he has done for you?

The next day you decided it was best to let him go, not keep lying to him when you knew it would always be Joel. When he visited you you sat him down by the stables. 

“I just wanted to talk to you about something. You play with your hands a little as your nerves kick in.

He smiles still, albeit a bit confused. “Are you alright Bee?”

Your head shakes and you finally look at him. “I really do like you Em, and I have loved spending time with you. But-” Your words get stuck, mouth open trying to form some sentence that will make it easier. “I can’t be with you anymore.”

Emory’s face now completely sullen hurts. “I guess I just don’t... understand. What happened?” He’s looking at you for answers, and you’re not sure if you should really reveal it. “I-” he breathes out. “I love you Bee.” 

You let out a small cry at his confession. “No Em, I’m definitely not worth that-”

“You are Bee, and I’m sorry I didn’t say it earlier, but please. I just want you.”

“I can’t- I can’t love you like that Em.” You admit sheepishly. “I don’t think I can love anyone else like that.”

His face unfurls and he’s squinting at you. “Are you-” his hands move to his hips. “Are you in love with someone else.”

Your eyes close, but open again to face him. “Yes.” You breathe out. “The same person I was in love with when I got here. I don’t want to lie to you or myself anymore thinking that it’s going to change.” 

“Who?” He asks through gritted teeth.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“It kind of matters a fuckin’ lot to me, Bee.” His voice is raised and you’re on your toes. Lily starts barking up, not liking the way Emory’s voice became angry. You really needed her with you, so you’re on edge when she goes off somewhere.

Your hands go out in a way to calm him down. “I need you to step back, and I’m sorry I’ve hurt you, but I’m telling you I can’t be with you anymore. Please understand.”

He shakes his head. “Nah.” Emory chuckles slowly. “You mean to tell me I’ve wasted my time with you?”

You huff out in disagreement. “If that’s because I didn’t sleep with you then it’s for the better that we split.”

“Now don’t you fuckin’-” He goes to grab your arm but he hears Lily’s barks come back louder.

“You touch a hair on her head I’ll shoot you right through your goddamn skull.” Joel holds up his gun, and it’s almost comical how much it reminds you of the first time you met.

He points to Joel with the hand he raised to you. “This him?”

“Leave Emory. Now.” You say sternly.

He clicks his tongue to look back at Joel. “You know this ain’t none of your business.”

“It is my business if you lay a finger on her. Get outta here like she asked. I won’t ask again.” 

Emory relents finally and leaves you with Joel and Lily. You stoop down to pet Lily, silently thanking her for getting Joel for you. “Thank you, Joel.”

“I’m sorry about it.” He says.

You shrug. “He’s just angry I didn’t sleep with him.” Joel’s head whips his head around to you and you laugh. “What? I’m selective.”

He brushes it off stepping closer to you and Lily allows it. “Are you alright?”

You nod. “It- It was always going to be you Joel.” His expression doesn’t change by much, but you can tell he’s really listening by the way his breathing picks up. “So if you want me, well, I’m here.” 

It doesn’t take long for him to drop the gun and take you in his arms kissing your breath away. Your hands instinctively go to his hair pulling at it as he holds you tighter, pressing into you as much as he could. 

He pulls back, resting his forehead to yours, his hands in your hair now and yours moved to his shoulders. “Well thank you Miller.”

Joel laughs into you. “I love you Bee.”

Thank you guys for reading!

See you next time! <3

[ramencat12]

Welcome to the Ramenverse

Hiya everyone! I am Ramen and I upload animations and art of the fandoms im into (mostly art because i'm a very unmotivated person when it comes to animation sometimes ;-;)

Reblogs, Comments and Upvotes are very much appreciated :)

I’d be very happy to receive fanart of my characters you can always feel free to send in my inbox or tag me

(ART REQS: Opened )

If you ever want to do any art collabs with me you can always DM but if I don’t respond right away I might be busy

Please no NSFW reqs

Fandoms im in

Aqua teen hunger force

The amazing digital circus

Bob the builder

Homestar runner

Fundamental paper education

My singing monsters

Thomas the tank engine

(idk if this is a big fandom but-) Miss spider's sunny patch friends

I do hope you are all having a great day :>- Ramen

(The main ocs)

(This is my fursona)

I am a minor so please don’t be weird

I am a Abstragedy shipper

Dni: MAPS, TERFS, ZOOPHILES, PROSHIPPERS, PORN BOTS, HOMOPHOBES, RACISTS

(this is a safe space for rare pairs and i'm happy to hear them as long as they aren't problematic)

I also have some side blogs

@askgangleandzooble

@askthepileofribbons

@mittensthescenecorekitty

@scribble-and-friends

@thecircusgangansweryourquestions

Here are my favorite characters from the fandoms i'm in:

Bob the builder

Lofty, Dizzy, Muck

Thomas the Tank engine

Emily, Toby, Sir Handel, Edward, Henry

The Amazing Digital Circus

Ragatha, Gangle, Kinger, Zooble

Aqua teen hunger force

Ignignokt, Err, Frylock, Emory

Homestar runner

Coach Z, Strongbad, Homestar

My singing monsters

Ghazt, Pixolotl, Piplash, Vhenshun, Jeeode, Pentumbra, Tympa, Poewk

(the ones in the gifs are my top favorite characters)

[kinetic-elaboration]

June 26: Murphy, Devil

Murphy, with some Murphy/Emori, Southern Gothic 'verse, ~800 words

This sounded waaaaay better in my head I don't even know.

*

All his life, John Murphy has been a liar and a thief. He was born with these traits. Some talents are simply transmitted through the blood.

His father was an upstanding gentleman, who did some quite terrible things for the good of his family. He used to sneak pills under the counter from the pharmacy where he worked. Some were for his son, who needed them—a sickly boy he was then. The rest he sold. They needed that money, too. Later, he died in prison, of a disease John didn't know he had. His widow drank herself to death slowly. As John grew, she decayed. He observed it all, that morbid disintegration of living flesh, the sickly stench of booze and rot all through the house.

He's told the story a hundred times by now: for sympathy, as explanation. A sob story, a distraction, a moral tale. An exemplar: what life is like in the ditches of Arkadia, the parts of town the rest of them would like to forget. A shrug of his shoulders, spitting into the dirt. Why he is the way he is.

The truth is he was always the boy who started fires when no one was looking. The boy no one could trust in his quiet or his solitude. He flashed the sun through a magnifying glass, sparked fires in the dirt. Stole his father's lighter. His cigarettes too. A spark of flame he held there beneath his thumb, and smoke in his mouth. He liked to pocket candy and bubble gum from the dollar store and the grocery. He'd practice his lines to himself as he walked through the aisles, in case he got caught: ah hell I didn't mean it. How'd that get there? I meant to pay for it, I swear.

Almost a pity that he never was. He ate the candy brazenly, popped bubbles on the sidewalk—wondered who he would tell if he could.

His father was in prison but not yet dead when Murphy stared high school and met her. Emori, from the back row of Algebra, who drew geometric patterns on her binder all through quadratic equations; he'd watch the hard, persistent scribble of her pen and trace the slick twists and turns of the single, small braid she wore at the side of her head, and he didn't learn a single thing, and he didn't care. She was from a town even smaller than Arkadia, a town not even big enough for a high school. He thought at first she might have been home schooled. She held herself apart in a certain way, hard to pin down, had a steady and unblinking stare that unnerved all of the other kids, and made Murphy's heart beat harder in his chest.

They taught each other how to pickpocket, the exhilaration of a hand slipped into a warm and forbidden space, and how to recognize, from the viewpoint of a mark, the sly, quick movement of it. How to stay attuned to every hair on your arms and on the back of your neck. Got pretty good at it—though she was always better. But more than anything, they excelled at the grift.

She was a born liar, just like him. A woman of talented lips and tongue.

They had an idea they'd drop out of school and take to the road, hitchhikers who specialized in grand theft auto. Somewhere out west, the hills disappear and the roads even out, and even the sky pulls up and stretches wide; somewhere out there was infinity, or maybe even paradise, or God.

Maybe they would have tried it, too, if it weren't for Bellamy Blake.

Murphy thought he was just a church charity case. Another hard luck soul, swept up in the sermons or the need for salvation. An easy mark. Then somehow, Murphy found himself with his back up against the cold brick of the school building, Bellamy's forearm lodged against his throat, and for the rest of his days, he never figured out quite how that son of a bitch did it—even less how he got Emori's knife from her in the same movement. Left her there adrift in the shadows of the high school, more shadows than sun that day, and the wind frigid and biting. For a second, he'd seen real fear on her face. And he'd felt it in himself too, a frisson, an electric shock—perhaps the most thrilling feeling of his life. He'd smiled a sick, bitter smile. He was a liar and a thief and he knew a kindred spirit when he saw one, and he knew that Bellamy was something worse, something more powerful and rarer still.

Something more dangerous still.  

Right away, he was ready to follow him anywhere.

[soupslashers]

The Heart Shaped Box Series

CH. 1 The Proposition

Pairing: Eventual Asa Emory/The Collector x Fem Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 4K

Summary: An infatuation has led you to him, and now you’re beginning to think it could become something more…

A/N: This was meant to be a one-shot, but it blossomed into a series. It’ll be a bit of a slow burn, depending on your definition, but still, I hope you all enjoy some professor Emory while he’s still in that persona ;)

Entomology was the only class you looked forward to.

Around you the black seats curved inwards, all aimed towards the chalkboard that was littered with drawings of various insects. Some had fat white shaded shells and were made to look as if they were crawling, while others were slim with outstretched wings. They were each created for extra credit; twenty points just to go up there before or after the class period to scribble down your favorite insect species.

You had yet to do so. The concept constantly lingered in the back of your mind on your drive to the campus. One day, you promised yourself, you would walk up there and scratch out your best impression of the Madagascar Hissing Cockroach—a forest dwelling invertebrate with a loud hum. Their unique alarm sound was something you had been infatuated with since your professor had first spoke about them. He said it was both a defense mechanism and a form of communication, one typically used for mating purposes.

The way he spoke is what had initially brought you to his class. Last semester you had been wondering the halls of the college campus, looking for ample distraction until your anatomy professor was free to speak with you about an exam you had missed, when a man’s voice had caught your attention.

It traveled through the quiet, cool air and to you. The noise was soft yet gruff. Not grating exactly but spoken low enough in his throat that it came out with a twinge of raspiness, almost like his voice was permanently coated with the thickness of just waking from an extended period of sleep.

To say it sounded nice would be an understatement. Most of your professors had clipped speech from years of burnt-out lectures to students who couldn’t care less. Their tones always carried a robotic weight to them, a drone akin to the humming of bees. But this voice was like fresh honey, dripping down in gobs of sun ridden gold to your eardrums.

Your feet had carried you to the source of the sound. The knotted walnut door was propped open with a stone butterfly, its wings and body cut to precision. It was just bigger than your fist, yet the weight of the rock enough to properly hold the door from closing. You hesitantly peeked through the gap, only allowing yourself to enter just enough that you could see despite the crack being lengthy enough to stick your shoulders partly through.

Inside was another lecture hall. The lights were bright saucers high above the small body of students who littered about the seats. Despite the vast seating, only about forty people lingered about, books open and heads trained forwards. Nobody glanced back towards you, and this you silently thanked. Bothering a professor and his students during a class was definitely something you wanted to avoid doing.

As your gaze made its rounds about the room, you found yourself lingering on the man who stood front and center.

Tawny brown pants hugged muscular thighs, the fabric moving and forming wrinkles as he gestured around the enormous chalkboard that hung on the wall in front of him. A pine green overcoat wrapped around him, falling to his mid upper thighs. Only as he turned around did you realize that this intoxicating voice extended to his physical features as well.

His chestnut brown hair was cut short, looping cleanly around his ears to connect with the stubble that gathered on his upper lip and around to his cheeks and chin. A broad forehead extended down to eyebrows that seemed permanently slightly furrowed, the skin inching over deep-set eyes that— your staring was halted as you peered closer at his eyes.

You were far enough away that you couldn’t make out distinct details, but there was something strange in the way his eyes seemed to almost reflect the light that shone around the room. He had been broadly speaking to the room, his stare shifting, and as it did, a white globe seemed to be sitting there, moving around as his eyes did.

It was a small oddity that had you enamored. You stayed hovering in the doorway for a full minute after initially noticing it, racking your brain for something that would explain it. But then those eyes had caught your own, which had you reeling back as if someone had harshly pulled you.

After that you had taken the route back to your anatomy professors’ doorway, mind stuck on the man like a scratched record. Even when you sat in front of Dr. Dunne, her speaking over when you could make up the exam, you still couldn’t move on from it to the point where you had even mentioned it to her before making your leave from her office.

She had been bemused, chuckling at the way the words had suddenly rushed out of your mouth, so very off topic from a test over bone structure. You remember the way heat had crawled up your neck and to your cheeks like it usually did when you spoke out of turn as she listed out numerous causes. However, just as you wanted to bolt from embarrassment, she paused, and then mentioned a professor on campus who had leukocoria—a condition in which blood vessels would leak into the hollow portions of the eye. Doctor Emory, she had called him. An entomology professor on campus.

You never got the chance to glance at the name plate by the propped open door, but you immediately knew it was the same man you had seen teaching just minutes before. It felt like some dirty secret that you had. Like she knew why you were asking and the thoughts you had as soon as you heard his voice. You were glad to be able to thank her then leave a moment later.

While you should’ve been focusing on the end of this semester, you instead incubated a growing crush on Dr. Emory. You’d linger around in the halls after your anatomy class, sometimes walking past the knotted walnut door to your car, other times staying there, listening to his teachings from behind the thin walls of the building.

Unlike the first time, you never risked peeking in again, nerves too heavy to even bear the thought of doing so. As well as that, you always made sure you were gone by the time the class ended. The idea of him suddenly walking out with the students, seeing you there, a student so captured by his voice that she stayed after her own class had already ended just to listen, was enough to cause your heart to hammer against your ribcage.

Still, you couldn’t help yourself. By the time the next semester’s enrollment period rolled out you were already there, putting his entomology class down despite it not matching with your major. At least now you’d have a reason to be hanging about.

Once Spring semester came around, you found yourself once again lingering in front of that door. You were allowed to venture in now, to pass that threshold you hadn’t dared to since that first day. Given the circumstances; you should’ve been elated. You were finally able see Dr. Emory in all his glory without having to hide just to hear him, but you couldn’t help the way your feet felt glued to the carpet of the hall.

It had been overwhelming. You wondered if he’d remember you peeking around his doorway, or if any of his past students had told him of the girl who would sit against the wall that existed just outside the classroom. The possibility of that, of him somehow knowing of this odd infatuation you possessed for him, had you buzzing with nerves.

For the first few week, you remained towards the back of the lecture hall, the safety of the door a necessity given that lingering thought that Dr. Emory somehow knew what you had been up to only a few weeks ago. Yet, as time proceeded on and your comfort in the room grew, you found yourself seating yourself closer and closer.

The number of people remained around forty, which meant there was no seating chart considering the numerous empty chairs that spanned around the area. This allowed you to slowly move forwards day by day, inching towards the front of the room where he spent most of the hour and a half.

Then he posed that silly prospect one day two weeks in by saying, “And if you’re curious about extra credit, you can always come to the board and draw me an insect of your liking.” It was simple, really. Just walk up there, take a stick of chalk and sketch out your favorite bug. That’s all it was, but like actually peering into the room, you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

It stuck around like his voice had last semester, plaguing your mind even when you weren’t in his class. Except now it was perfectly attainable.

You were a student, you reminded yourself today as the class neared its end, and it wasn’t out of the norm for a student to want extra credit. He wouldn’t bat an eye at the fact you were seeking it out, as many of your peers had before you. So why did you feel so trapped in your seat at the very thought of doing so?

Though you gained the confidence to sit just a row back from the front, you still felt like a deer caught in headlights every time he passed you. Dr. Emory liked to walk back and forth in slow, almost calculated movements. He’d near a kid speaking, stepping right in front of the seats, then back to stand in the middle of the room until something else caught his eye and called on him to approach it.

During your time spent in the class, you began to suspect it was due to his leukocoria. His case was unknown to you as he never spoke on it, but you knew it must’ve messed with his eyesight at least a little bit, if it wasn’t still an ongoing concern of his. This could be why he felt the need to walk close up to someone speaking, especially if said student was sat at the back of the room like you had been.

You remember the first time you had spoke during class. It was a simple question regarding your newfound favorite bug, the Madagascar hissing cockroach, when he had initially talked about it. He had walked up the rows and to just a few seats away from you. You had put it on your quiet speaking voice and what you guess was his lack of sight, but it still made your throat clench up every time you thought of speaking from then on, his focus on you almost unbearable with the crush you nurtured.

That’s probably why you get so flustered just thinking about walking up to the board, you ponder as Dr. Emory announces everyone is free to go. It made going to the chalkboard while he was still there a daunting task with the way his eyes found yours every so often. It meant you’d be truly up close and personal with him, no seats or doors to add as a distraction. Still, you decided no more hiding. Today was the day you’d venture pass yet another threshold and get that extra credit.

Your hands plucked your phone from your pocket, pulling it out and typing in your passcode. A detailed picture of the cockroach species was already there, ready to function as a reference. It was that last push that you needed, your backpack straps finding their way around your shoulders as you moved from your seat and out into the rows that separated the isles of chairs.

The walk was very quick. Way too quick, you realized as Dr. Emory stood behind the wooden desk that sat in the middle of the front area of the lecture room. Suddenly you were out in the open, way too close to act like these feelings you had towards him were just a figment of your imagination.

He was occupied with the papers in front of him, until you neared even further. You were to the right of him, closing up on the vast blackboard, when you saw him turn his head towards you in your peripheral.

Your heart quickened in its already fast pace, thrumming in your chest with pounding beats. Though you tried your best to ignore his attention, it was like walking through quicksand. It kept pulling at your thoughts, leaving nothing but him to make its place in your mind. To maintain your sanity, you silently hoped he would stay where he was and just turn back to whatever he was already doing.

Unfortunately, though, as you picked up a piece of still warm chalk, you felt his stare continue to penetrate your skin like the sun on a summertime day. It seemed physical; as if his gaze had hands that wrapped around you and kept you from fully raising the chalk up to the board. You moved your shoulders under the false guise of adjusting your shoulder straps in order to somehow shake it off you.

The Madagascar hissing cockroach was gigantic. Other students went for smaller, easier bugs to make. A ladybug with its spotted shell to a couple of ants that crawled along the lower part of the chalkboard. You decided to make it as accurate as you could, mostly because you knew Dr. Emory would not only see it later on but now as he watched you make the first circular motion of its oval body.

It wasn’t odd for him to closely watch a student. His lack of eyesight meant he’d have to be closer and look more intently for longer in order to gain the same information as most other people. Still, it felt like this was more than just an intrigue at your actions. Of course, he monitored the other students momentarily as they interacted with him and others, but he always went back to whatever he was doing quickly. This time, though, it seemed he found something more worth his time to watch.

A part of you didn’t mind at all. Having his attention, someone so attractive with voice akin to vocal alcohol, was something you had only dreamed about. It actually happening was truly a personal wish of yours come true. However, another part of yourself that was driven solely by insecurity was unnerved by this action.

Why did he feel the need to watch you so closely? Were you messing up your drawing so early in its process? Maybe the prospect of extra credit had already passed as you had waited so long to do this and now he was just watching you make a fool of yourself. That thought had a blaze of heat cascading its way through you, promptly causing you to shift in an attempt to lessen its affects.

By now the cockroach was mostly done. You had sketched an outstretched hand that held the bug, showing off its size to those who cared to peer at your drawing. The lines of its shell were carefully being drawn when you heard a honeyed voice speak to your left.

“Madagascar hissing cockroach, right?” You didn’t look at him, too focused on not messing up, but you swore you heard a smile in his tone.

You nodded, then stated a simple confirmation, too nervous to add anything else.

Now you heard him chuckle. It perfectly encompassed the softness of his voice, the rasp gone and replaced by the gentleness of a passing cloud, surprisingly quieter than his normal speaking voice. “Accurate to the size,” he noted now coming to stand so close that you could feel the heat radiating off of him. “This much diligence could earn you more than twenty points.”

The sudden appearance of praise caused your hand to twitch, the right antenna now crooked and longer than the other one. A wave of dizziness found its way to you as you hurriedly erased it. He smelled clean, like he had just gotten out of the shower despite your class period ending at 5:30PM. There was also a faint scent of something earthly but expensive. You couldn’t help but to inhale a bit heavier.

With the antenna fixed, you held the chalk in your hand, hesitant to move and ruin the moment. He was so warm next to you as if his entire being imitated a burning furnace. It was only the first week of March, which meant winter still mingled heavily with the air. Even in here you felt the familiar nip of coldness, but with him next to you like this, you finally felt at a comfortable temperature.

His face was a blur in the corner of your eye as you hadn’t turned to face him fully yet. Moving an inch seemed like a task you weren’t prepared to do. Even then, you’d prefer to stay like this; his face too out of focus to cause the anxiety it usually did and the way you could move over just a bit and be touching him, shoulder to, well, your head.

This sentiment progressed as he cocked his head, leaning in closer to see your drawing. Immediately, all functions that came naturally to you ceased. Your breath hitched in your throat midway through, and your hands dampened. He was so close now, his face coming into clarity right next to yours.

Your eyes roved over him, devouring every little detail that you could. Dark hairs that combined to form a long stubble, even more grown out than it had been the first time you saw him. His eyes that were clouded heavily in the middle, white extending out hazily into the deep brown of his natural eye color. The way his eyelashes brushed against the tops of his cheeks as he blinked, inspecting your creation.

Then he was facing you. It was just a swift turn of his head, a small motion that had somehow caused your eyes to widen into saucers. You couldn’t help but take a step back, suddenly burning up in the room that had been so cold just moments before. Now you were really looking at him, eyes interlocked, nearly face to face with the way he had leaned down to see your drawing.

“I’m glad you like the—the drawing, Dr. Emory,” you breathed out. It came out thickly, the words blurring together with how fast they flew from your mouth. This had to be the third, maybe fourth time you’ve spoken to him? The territory was so new and utterly terrifying. You couldn’t even remember if he preferred Doctor or professor.

His spine straightens out as he came to his full height, a towering 6’2 to your own, much smaller build. “Such a beautiful bug,” he says, voice low and oh-so-very personal as it was just you and him now in the lecture room. “Is it your favorite?”

Again, your head bobs up and down.

He smiles at this, as if he knows exactly why you aren’t trusting your words. “I’m taking that as a yes,” he replies, then turns around, but not before saying, “Come with me.”

Nearly dropping the chalk back on the tray that’s connected to the board, you scamper after him, steps small and  quick to match the pace in which he crosses back to his desk. Once there, you find yourself standing in front of him, the wooden work surface separating you from the entomologist.

“I have a proposition for you,” Dr. Emory announces, hands busying themselves with the sleek laptop he carries in with him every day. He opens it, tapping a few times before his eyes catch onto yours, already looking at him. There’s a glint of knowing within the white and brown haze of them when he says next, “A research paper. Strictly for you, if you’re interested, that is.”

“I am,” you blunder out all too quickly. The way he had stated that it was, in fact, just for you had something in you shifting. How could you say no, even if you had no idea why he even proposed it in the first place? Still, you attempted to redeem yourself from the embarrassingly rapid answer by asking, “Why a paper? If I may ask that.”

He chuckled again, revealing white teeth, before saying your first name. It rasped towards the end as the word came out, something that had your mouth going dry. “Why did you take this class?” Then, with slight amusement evident in his tone, “If I may ask that.”

Your mouth pulls back in confusion. The worry is apparently evident on your face as he goes to speak again. “You seem to be very…intrigued in what I have to say, but you’re always so hesitant to speak out directly to me, and in your group assignments.”

“Oh,” is all you can utter out, swallowing thickly before taking interest in the way the pattern of the hard floor changes in coloring. Dark and light browns mottled together being separated as planks by thin, black lines.

“I’m asking because participation is a crucial factor in my class. Our group is small if you haven’t noticed already. It’s important to stay connected with your peers when studying such a specific subgroup of zoology,” he continues on when you don’t give him more of a response. From where your gaze is, you can see one of his fingers twitch from its place on his desk. “Your grade has suffered an amount due to this. I figured I’d offer a way to make it up since you do seem interested in what I have to say.”

“I appreciate that, Dr. Emory,” you say, still not raising your eyes to him. It’s not like your grade was bad. A high B was something you were actually proud of considering this class pertained to a subject so entirely different to what you’re used to learning. Plus, zoology was interesting, but you hadn’t taken a particular interest in insects until now. As you look up to say what you want to next, you find his eyes already on you, his head shifting and following your nervous movements. “I’ll do the research paper.”

He seemed satisfied with your answer, the hand that was on the desk coming up to rub at the scruffy hair that made its home on his face while he looked over what was on his laptop screen. “That’s great to hear. It should be six pages over a subject pertaining to this class. I’ll email you the details and the rubric.”

That evening once you were home you took out your own computer from your bag, starting it up with the recent events heavy in your mind.

It wasn’t just the conversation you shared, but the way he stood so closely next to you. He didn’t do this with other students, or at least none that you’d noticed before. In fact, you hadn’t even seen when the others drew their insect of choice on the board. Maybe he watched them like he did earlier with you, smelling so heavenly and relaying praise like a second tongue.

Or could this really just be for you?

The proposal of a research paper, strictly for you, had you thinking that maybe, just maybe, this was an interaction not so commonly handed out. He had to have been watching you, noticing the way you kept to yourself to be able to bring it up with such specifics. Or perhaps he was just close with his students.

Your mind went back and forth on the subject, the torture so much that you decided to head to bed early without looking at the email he said he’d sent over the matter.

[intricate-ritualz]

[tuttifuckinfruttifriday]

All slashers with a S/O who counts on their fingers:

For @iloveslasher ;) since asked! idk when I’ll open my requests (inbox)

Warnings: teasing, some cuteness, lots of confusion, referring to Pennywise as “they”, ooc Doom Head

I’ll probably forget some since I’ve got lots on my list :,)

It’s the longest thing I’ve ever written!

I’m SO, SO sorry it took me so long D:

Sorry if I made some mistakes or missed some things!

Michael Myers

He probably doesn’t even see it at first, not until he sees you at the table with a sheet full of your month expenses and your fingers moving up and down while you look down at the scribbled numbers.

If he cares, he sure doesn’t show it. He’ll just look at you from the doorway and maybe tilt his head before walking away. If you do that again though, he’ll stare at you and wait until you notice him before he walks over and finally understands that you’re just counting, which makes him almost facepalm.

I don’t think he ever did it, and he never will.

Jason Voorheese

The first time he’ll see you counting will probably make him smile as you’re looking at the ceiling, your lips moving a little as you put your fingers up then back down.

He did that when he was a kid and still does it sometimes, but only rarely though! So he understands how it can help you and will only smile whenever he sees you doing that. He finds it so cute coming from you! He’s happy he isn’t the only one who did and does that.

He’ll be less self conscious to do that because you do it.

Charles Lee Ray/Chucky

He’ll laugh when he sees you focused on something and moving your fingers, a shit-eating grin on his face. “What tf are you doing?”

If he startles you he’ll laugh even more as you try to explain it helps you counting. He’ll then tease you about it, seeming like a big meany, when he‘s just really curious ,even if he would never dare admit it.

When you see him at the kitchen table trying to count while moving his fingers, don’t tell him you saw. He’s got too much pride to be caught doing something so “stupid” like he told you when he saw you at first.

Tiffany Valentine

You’ll probably laugh at how big her smile will become when she sees you. She’ll probably squeal like a fangirl too.

What can she say? It’s so cute! So whenever she sees you, she’ll hug you from behind and if she sees that you lost your count, she’ll feel guilty and help you count back, trying the trick with her fingers.

If we’re talking about your concentrated face as you do that, oh boyy.. She will stare at you with a smile on her face, but will look away when you’re about to catch her. She’ll try it behind your back one time, but won’t really do it after.

Brahms Heelshire

He’s really happy when he sees you doing it. You count on your fingers?! He does that too!

He’ll help you if you need some help and will compliment you and tell you about how you’re twinsies for doing that.

Everything you do is cute (y/n)... So be prepared for him to be amazed by your cuteness, even if like I said multiples times earlier, he does that too.

He’s pretty childish though, so he might tease you when he’s feeling like it. Don’t hesitate to tell him if he offends you or if he’s being a brat, he’ll immediately stop.

If you’re too concentrated, he WILL try to make you pay more attention to him.

Freddy Krueger

Wanna talk about teasing? He’s going to tease the HELL out of you when he sees you. He’ll act confused, even a little disgusted as he call out your childish behaviour, but it’s all obviously a big joke to him.

If you’re offended, he’ll just laugh in your face and roll his eyes, smirking if you frown or become mad at him.

He’ll be so smug as he looks at you deep in thoughts, your fingers moving as you try to keep count of whatever you’re counting, before he scares the bejesus outta you.

He’ll probably try it once and like it, which will result in him doing it without you noticing.

Thomas Hewitt

If he comes up and sees you sitting at the table, your fingers moving up and down as you’re trying to count whatever you’re counting, he’ll be curious.

He knows you’re counting, he just didn’t thought you would do it like that! When he was younger, he used to do that to help himself too.

He’ll probably sit and watch you for some time, a small smile on his face. If he distracts you, he’ll feel so sorry! He’ll fidget and probably get up to get back down, but if you stop him he’ll stay reluctantly.

Bubba Sawyer

What?? What are you doing??

He’s clueless at first and only watches, his eyes following the movement of your fingers before they stray to your concentrated face as he tries to be quiet.

Lots of happy noises and cute babbles when you tell him it’s to help you count. He never really had to count, but he did it sometimes too! He definitely will always do that now<3

If his brothers make fun of it, he won’t hesitate to let them know his mind with the threat of a hammer.

Nubbins Sawyer (since I count him as a slasher)

When he sees you, he’ll tilt his head and come closer, sitting beside you and trying to keep silent to not make you loose your counting.

He can take the guess that you’re counting, he probably knows it, but he finds it cute that you do it with your fingers.

He’ll probably goofs about it, doing the same as you do whenever he needs to count, even if it’s to count to three.

Prepare yourself for some camera flashes! He will shamelessly try to capture you in pictures and put them on his wall, and he’ll talk about it like it’s normal if you ask him hehe

Chop Top Sawyer

He’s like his twin, but even more goofier.

But he’s a nuisance too.

When he sees you counting, he won’t even think about it and make you loose your count, then he will apologies and try to hug you even if you don’t want to. He feels bad!

Definitely trying, though. More to make you laugh and joke than to really count <3

ChromeSkull/Jesse Cromeans

It couldn’t be funnier to see his massive frame stop in the doorway, his eyes fixated on your smaller form as you’re trying to count something. He’ll only stare at you, like Michael, but will probably go see what you’re doing.

Whenever you do that, he’s going to tease you to hell and back, but it’s only because he finds you really cute!

His smoll S/O is counting on their fingers! Aww!

It’s only playfully though, he doesn’t (kinda does) wants to be mean or anything.

He doesn’t do that, but doesn’t have anything against it so he’ll try.

The Collector/Asa Emory

Oh... Okay?

He’s probably the one that acts the most normal about it at first. Like, you do you.

He sure will find it childish and a little bit funny, but he won’t say anything about it.

After that, there’s two ways it can go, one: he can go in with his day and just forget about it or two: he can just stare and silently wonder how cute it is you’re doing that.

He doesn’t do it, but he might try ONE time, feeling like it’s kind of ridiculous.

Pin Head

He won’t see you and won’t say anything about it— Or maybe he will, you never know what this guy will say or sees.

He’ll probably lift one of his non existent brows and will go away, leaving you to count. If you see him, he’ll maybe say something or like I said just go away without a word.

He doesn’t have time for this, so he probably won’t try.

Doom Head

As soon as his eyes land on you, a grin will escape him.

He’ll definitely distract you, chuckling if you become mad. But he’ll tickle you to make you forget about it! Even if you’re not ticklish.

He might cuddle for some time with you if you’re mad enough, reluctantly as he would seem grumpy.

He won’t try, but he’s got nothing against watching you.

Carry White(NEW!)

She’ll be the normal one probably, smiling if she sees you at first.

She’ll let you do it, and might even try it if you feel insecure about that^^

Scratch that, she WILL do it.

She’s SO nice about it too🥺!

CandyMan

A deep chuckle will escape him when he sees you sitting, your fingers moving as you look deep in thoughts. He might even try to capture this moment with a little sketch!

He’ll look at you lovingly as you pout your lips as they move, your brows furrowing as you finish counting.

If you’re not finished and you see him, he’ll only shake his head and murmur a “don’t mind me” with one of his charming smiles.

He’ll try counting on his fingers if it makes you happy!

The Creeper

What...??

Super confused at first, until he hears you mumbling some numbers.

After that, he finds it really cute like most of the slashers <3 he’ll definitely tease you about it with some purrs in between, just to make you loose what you were counting and pay attention to him. He might feel a little left out if you take too long.

You want some help? He’ll just pop up randomly and start counting with you, a little smirk as he counts on his fingers too.

Jig Saw/John Kramer

He’ll chuckle at first, seeing you so concentrated with your back to him.

He’ll watch you for some time, but he’ll sit beside you and probably will help you if you need some help.

He’s got nothing against trying, if it makes you happy<3

Amanda Young

She’ll just smile when sees you, walking back towards what she’s doing if she’s doing anything. If not, she’ll just watch you and wait for you to finish.

She’ll make some comments here and then, but she isn’t mean about it.

Probably tries!

Mark Hoffman

Okay, first thing... why can’t you use the calculator before you?

Well, he’ll smile tho when he sees you so concentrated bit won’t bother you. He’ll make some small comments that you probably won’t put together, but he won’t say much about it.

He won’t try, maybe just one tiny time.

Poly!Ghostface/Billy&Stu

Billy will be more chill about it, but Stu will try not to giggle to loud as he stops him in the doorway, his hands on his face.

It’s cute! It reminds him too much of a kid<3 you’re precious

The two of them will laugh/chuckle when they see you’ve caught them, but they won’t look away and Stu will even ask if you need some help!

They will both try, but Billy prefers sticking to paper.

Norman Bates

He’ll be kind of confused for 1 second, just to realize when he hears your small mutters.

“O-Oh! You’re counting? Let me help you!-“

Even if you tell him you don’t need help, he’ll insist and you two will probably be counting on your fingers, even if he prefers paper. His mother might say it’s too childish, but he won’t even care.

He’ll try it, but only when he’s with you.

Otis Driftwood

He’ll be hella confused, maybe chuckle a bit.

“You back in kindergarten or something?”

If you’re downstairs and Baby is near, she’ll smack the back of his head and send him a little glare.

Immediately feels bad if he sees you slouching! He’ll give you a head pat or a hug, trying to not seem too lovey-dovey.

When you’re alone together, he’ll probably tell you he didn’t mean it in a bad way.

He won’t really try it, except if you really want him to,

Captain Spaulding

Of course he’ll probably laugh at first when he sees you.

“What the hell are you doing?”

If he scares you, he’ll feel a little bad and ask the same thing, a small smile on his face.

When you tell him, he’ll laugh like it a joke, but stops once he sees you aren’t laughing.

Why... Why are you counting like that?? How can that help you??

He’s confused, but he’ll still smile and joke a lot about it if he sees he made you sad or feel insecure.

He’ll definitely try!

Vincent Sinclair

He acts pretty normal about it, if as-soon as-he-sees-you-he-tries-to-capture-the-moment counts as normal. But if somewhere throughout your relationship you’ve made comments about him not taking moments out of sketches, he’ll just stare in awe.

He sure does find it kind of funny tho!

He’ll look at you and smile softly behind his mask, blushing madly and turning away if he sees you’ve caught him.

He’s the first to try it, but he’ll do shyly<3

Bo Sinclair

When he sees you, he’ll do some jokes about it and tease you, because we all know that he’s the Queen of teasing (😂)

But seriously tho, it’s just because he finds you really cute. Like, who does that anymore?? He did that when he was a kid!

He’ll tell you it’s childish and all, but you might catch him trying to count on his fingers at the end of the day

Jack Torrance

That’s cute! He’ll definitely smirk each time he sees you doing that.

He’ll act goofy about it... But it’s just to hide the fact that Danny did that.

If you ever tell him that because you see through him, he’ll probably just frown or have a full breakdown while hugging you tight. Just don’t talk about that when he’s finished...

He might try, but probably only to be funny.

Art The Clown

He obviously won’t say anything about it and watch you, mimicking you for fun and grinning as soon as you see him.

If he’s in the mood, he might sit beside you and count on his fingers too, for what? We’ll never know.

He acts like it’s one of the cutest things, you might even see him framing his face with his hands, or maybe you won’t if he wants to be sneaky.

Is it a question? He’ll definitely do that now!

Pennywise(1990/2017)

What are you doing, human?

IT will be the only one who doesn’t understand one bit, having no idea what tf you would do that for.

They will just tilt their head, maybe try it^^

But they’re definitely the one who made fun of you for it, kinda playfully

Leslie Vernon

He’ll stop what he’s doing just to watch you, a smile on his face. But when you’ll look towards him, you’ll see him looking at his things like nothing happened 👀

He’s so sneaky about it you won’t even notice each time he’s looking at you.

It might slip sometime later tho, he’ll tell you with a big goofy smile before acting shocked and smirking at your face.

He’ll try!

Leprechaun/Lubdan

This guy will smirk about it, probably will scare you with a little magic too.

If you loose your count, he’ll have it counted in one second, so please try not kill him 😂

He honestly finds it really cute, not that he would say it (except if you’re cuddling he might hehe)

He’s got nothing against trying it, but he’ll probably be really confused.

The Moaner/Billy Lenz

He does it mostly all the time, but he’ll still tilt his head when he sees you sitting peacefully, a piece of papier and a pencil before you as you’re concentrated on counting.

If he’s feeling it today, he might just sit and stare at you, or he’ll mumble some filthy words under his breath as he bounces his leg, random impatience going through him.

If you see him and try to tell him he’s distracting you, then he’ll be even more of a nuisance

Or he’ll simply just walk away with a blank face, so please consider your options carefully, because that’s not a good sign.

You should probably pay attention to him if you don’t want something in the house broken tho, what do you need counting for anyway?

The Man(Hush)

He finds it funny at first, but he’ll still watch you silently, he might even scare you, like he’ll just sneak and jump before you to make you loose your count

He’ll have a good laugh, but after that he’ll apologies and give you kisses before he sits down and continue to watch you. He won’t do anything after that until you’re finished.

He’ll try! He’ll say he feels silly, but he just finds it cute hehe

Mayor Buckman

Aww! Cute^

As soon as he sees you, he’ll stop what he’s doing and a smile will appear on his face as he watches you so focused in what you’re doing. When he’ll ask you why, his smile becomes bigger and a chuckle might escape him.

He’ll let you do it, might even try it^^ but he’ll insist that you ask him for help whenever you want to count, because he doesn’t want you to take too long.

Herbert West(Dk if he’s a slasher but hehe)

He probably never saw it since he’s so into his work, but he’ll frown when he sees you.

What are you doing? It’s so childish!

Personally, he’s got nothing against counting on your fingers, but he’ll still wonder why?? Why can’t you just use your head??

He’ll be confused even if you say it helps you.

He won’t try.

Patrick Bateman

He might just stare at you blankly or make a “supposed to be funny” comment about it, even though he finds it kinda.. cute

He’s got other things to do, but if you ask him, because he won’t do it if you don’t, he might try counting on his fingers, or maybe he’ll just say an excuse because he don’t want to.

But other than that, yes he might try, just might.

[growup2bmegmccaffrey]

Lazy Sunday…perfect for doggy snuggles.

[diamond-coral]

Play by the Rules

Steve x Reader, Tony x Reader, Implied Steve x Reader x Tony

Summary: Working for the powerful CEO, Tony Stark, was a nightmare. Especially when you have to deal with his new, and equally as powerful, partner; the CEO of S.H.I.E.L.D. Inc., Steve Rogers. You have a plan to leave it all behind, but Tony has his own plans for you.

This is my first writing for @ darkficsyouneveraskedfor and @ harper-emory-writes Dark Bingo challenge: crossing off the squares Blackmail and CEO AU. I’m nowhere near a bingo but I’m super excited that I’ve started !!

Warnings: 18+ only! NON-CON/DUB-CON(ORAL (M RECEIVING), INTERCOURSE, MENTION OF ANAL), BLACKMAIL, VOYEURISM, sexism in the workplace, swearing.

 “We’ll review the new contract with S.H.I.E.L.D. today during the meeting. I’ll need two printed copies of it as well as a printed copy of our current one with Asgard Corp.” Tony snaps his fingers in front of your face. “Y/n, are you even listening to me?”

You look up from your notepad. “Of course, Mr. Stark. Just taking notes.”

Tony scoffs. “Wasn’t half the reason I hired you your ability to retain information without wasting time by writing things down?Since when did you start taking notes?”

Since I became willing to do anything to not have to look at you and remember that you were balls deep in me just last week.

“I’d just like everything to go smoothly for this meeting. I understand it’s a big deal for the company and for you, sir.”

Tony studies your face. “Well in the spirit of dedication, I’ll need you to stay a couple hours extra.”

You try to avoid scrunching up your features at that. Although you had been looking forward to curling up on your couch when you got home, you would never dare counter your employer, so you just nod.

“Rogers will be here in an hour,” he continues. “I’m expecting you to greet him, so I’ll have an intern go out and get you an outfit.” 

“With all due respect, Mr. Stark, I believe the attire I’m currently wearing is satisfactory, is it not?”

Tony eyes your black blazer and pants paired with flats. “It’s not,” he states as he gets up from his chair across from you at your desk and fixes his tie. After pausing to consider your confused look, he elaborates. “You gotta show some more skin, sweetheart. It’s the only way a woman like you will be able to make it out here.”

Your mouth falls open as he turns and leaves you to process his offensive comment.

“Bastard,” you mumble.

You could run Stark Industries in your sleep. In fact, Tony had already appointed you head of three separate divisions as well as let you bring a few of your own original projects and ideas to life in the years you had been here. You saw your own potential and Tony had been generous enough to help you expand and experiment with it. A couple more years and you could leave Stark Industries behind to start your own company with the connections you’d already made.

Which is why you remained compliant with Tony’s every demand. No matter how much it hurt your pride (especially when a drunk hookup with him practically destroyed your pride), nothing would compare to the sweet victory of running Tony’s company into the dirt when you started your own. You did your own projections. Tony wasn’t short of enemies, and with their help and your own skill set, you’d make double the profits Tony did in half the time.

So you put up with the touches, grabs, and comments from Tony. He had such a large company to run that he barely noticed that the three divisions he absentmindedly handed to you were the most successful. You’d giggle and bat your eyelashes as long as Tony didn’t notice you practically undermining his company.

Play by the rules,

But be ferocious.

_________________________

Twenty minutes later you’re interrupted from your pile of paperwork by a soft knock.

“Come in!” you call out.

A boy with short brown hair lets himself in. You’d seen him around as Tony’s shadow.  

‘What was his name again? Patrick? Pietro? Pierre?’

“Oh, Peter! How can I help you”

“Hey, Ms. L/n, Tony asked me to bring this up to you.”

Peter holds up the clear dry-cleaning bag, and it takes all your effort not to grimace at the short black pencil skirt inside. Instead, you give him a tight-lipped smile.

“You can just leave it on that chair, thank you,” you say.

As Peter leaves you get up to inspect the clothing Tony so graciously provided for you, and you notice a note attached.

leave a couple buttons undone ;)  -TS

Scoffing, you throw the note in the trash as you pick up the clothes and lock your door.

You’d begrudgingly play a little eye candy knowing you’d get your revenge in a couple years.

But how much could this escalate in a couple of years? 

“Stop it,” you mutter to yourself while pulling on the black blazer.

Once you're finished changing, you receive an alert that Steve Rogers had checked into the building. 15 minutes early.

You hadn’t even met the fucker and you already hated him.

________________________________

“Mr. Rogers!” you greet the blonde in a painfully cheery voice. “You’re early!”

“Well, this is an important meeting, sweetheart,” he replies, and you cringe at the pet name, handing him a clipboard and pen.

“This is just a quick confidentiality contract, Mr. Stark would like you to sign,” you inform. “Basically just saying you agree not to share any contents of the meeting or contract to any outside parties until you and Mr Stark have solidified and confirmed all aspects of your partnership.”

“Ah so Stark is already confident he’ll get a partnership with my company?” Steve muses and scribbles his signature. He looks up, handing the clipboard and pen back to you, and you motion for him to follow you down the hall.

“So what’s your role here exactly?” Steve asks, following behind you. “Are you an intern, receptionist...maybe a call-girl?”

You don’t bother turning at his teasing remark, instead answering calmly. “I run the three most successful divisions here, Mr. Rogers.”

“Impressive,” he remarks, but it sounds more of a mock from him. “And Stark still keeps you as an assistant.”

Your brows furrow at that comment. “How do you know I’m an assistant? And why would you ask what I did here if you already knew?”

“Women like you are just so fun to rile up. Stark and I had a meeting earlier in the month, and he talked of you very fondly.”

Well that didn’t sit right with you. You coordinated all of Tony’s meetings and practically created his everyday work schedule. “Mr. Stark didn’t mention meeting you already.”

“We decided to go over all possibilities of this transaction. It wasn’t much.” Steve brushes your comment off as he enters the elevator with you.

The doors close and you feel trapped. Through the short conversation you’ve had with this man, you can already tell how calculating he is. Every word, every movement, has been intricately steered by him for his benefit. And you couldn’t even begin to explain how belittled his stature made you feel; sheer power barely contained by an expensive three piece suit. The dark blue made his blue eyes more piercing in comparison. Everything about him radiated dominance. And for a woman like you who was practically clawing her way up the corporate ladder, that was a problem.

“You coming?” Steve’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. He stood by the open elevator doors, arm gesturing out for you to lead. “Time is money.”

“Well then you have plenty of it, don’t rush me,” you snap.

“Feisty,” he muses, lips turning upwards.

Steve follows behind you, and you can feel his gaze burning on your ass. You’re more than grateful when you reach Tony’s door, having to refrain from frantically knocking, trying to escape the stare of the man behind you.

“Enter,” a voice calls from behind the doors.

You push open the large door and stand to the side, allowing Steve to enter the room before you.

“Mr. Stark,” Steve greets, crossing the room to give Tony a firm handshake.

“Rogers.”

The men begin to talk business and you take that as your cue to leave, turning back towards the door.

“Y/n, have a seat,” Tony calls out to you. You glance back at him and beckons you over with two fingers.

“Um, Mr. Stark, there are no other chairs,” you stammer.

“Don’t worry, doll, I wouldn’t be a gentleman if I didn’t offer a lady a place to sit,” Steve declares. You expect him to get up, but he just spreads his legs a little wider and gestures to his lap.

Eyes flitting to Tony in panic, your employer just nods and gives you look of warning as if saying ‘don’t mess this up’.

You let out a breath and hesitantly make your way to Steve.

‘How much could this escalate?’

The words from earlier rang in your head, but you brush them away and tentatively place yourself on one of his muscular thighs, angling yourself inward. You can’t hide how your face twists into a look of disdain as Steve’s arm snakes around, pulling you further up his leg so you’re back right up against his torso.

“Mr. Rogers I-” Your voice is nothing but a squeak before Tony interrupts you.

“As I was saying,” Tony interjected. “Your profits will grow exponentially if you add Stark Tech to your security services. Which is why I get 60%. I’m already doing you a favor by growing your profits.”

“I want 50/50. Stark Industries will gain consumers from S.H.I.E.L.D. We both get more buyers from the partnership, so I say it should be an even split.”

“Well we both know you’re not just getting the consumers, Rogers,” Tony spat. 

That has your attention fully invested in the conversation. What could Rogers possibly get from the company that Tony would be so mad about parting from? You look down at the contract on the desk in front of you and your heart stops cold.

“Mr. Stark, why is my name on this contract?” It was there. Under ‘assets acquired’, it was the last thing, as if added as a last moment bargain.

Tony just ignores you. “Steve, you’re taking the head of Stark-Touch Smartphones, my most profitable branch, you can’t just expect things to run as efficiently when she’s gone.”

“I’m taking her twice a week, I highly doubt that’ll make much of a dent in your operations,” Steve scoffs, and you tense up. “How about this. I get her for two weeks- straight- a month, and I’ll split it 45-55.”

“Mr. Stark, what’s going on?” Your voice quivers.

“Your boss here just agreed to sell you to me, as my...assistant,” he explains, hot breath fanning your ear. His free hand that’s not on your waist moves to grip your bare thigh up your skirt. “Two weeks a month, for every month, for as long as you work for him.”

“No!” you suddenly shout, wrenching your body from his grip to stand up. “I will take the comments, I will take the stares and the touches, but I will not be whored out like this. Mr. Stark, I quit.”

Stark just tsks and rises from his chair to stand in front of you. While shorter than Steve, it still feels like he towers over you with the demeanor he holds. “That’s just it, y/n...you see, you’re not gonna be quitting to start that new company of yours.”

Your eyes practically bulge out of your head as he mentions your future plans.

“Yeah, I know, you’re not as good at hiding as you thought. At least from Peter that is. Kid’s a whiz at the computer. Had him plant a bug on your home laptop and do a little sweep of your personal account. And I gotta hand it to you, the numbers you ran? Almost perfect. Every single projection and hypothesis you had would’ve gone through. You factored in almost everything. Almost. But you forgot one thing, sweetheart.” Tony’s hand flies up to grip your jaw and uses the momentum to throw you into the wall a few feet behind you. He’s back on you in an instant, seething, as the grip on your chin is bruising. “You forgot me, bitch. You forgot what would happen if you cross Tony fucking Stark. I’m the most powerful man in America. I can ruin your life with a snap of my fingers.”  Just as quickly as he was on you, Tony’s anger switches to calm, and in the blink of an eye, he’s off of you, casually smoothing his suit down. “Well more of a push of a button.”

Smirking, Tony reaches into his pocket to pull out his phone while you remain frozen in fear, glancing at Steve who just looks amused at the show in front of him. At the sound of Tony coughing to get your attention, you look back in front of you at the phone he’s now holding out. Black and white security footage is displayed on the screen, and the moment Tony presses play, you know what it is.

Your voice rings through the speaker, the moans, expletives, and begging coming out of your throat are clear as day as Tony fucks you over your desk.

“Harder, daddy!”

“Please, please, let me cum!”

Your eyes water. “Stop it,” you murmur, but the video keeps playing. “I said stop it! Please!”

Tony chuckles. “So now you understand what’s at stake here? One push of a button, one phone call to Peter, and this video will be up all over Time Square. Forget starting a company, you’ll be blackballed all over America from even being a receptionist.”

You’re defeated, your entire future crumbling before your eyes.

 “What do you want from me.”

“Well I think leaving me or the company is now obviously out of the picture, so for now, I want you to give Steve here a little trial of what he just bought from me.”

“Please...please no,” you croak, but Tony just holds up his phone and raises an eyebrow.

As you start to make your way toward the other man, Tony grabs your jaw once more. “Don’t half-ass it,” he grows in your ear before shoving you to Steve.

Eyes lowered, you stand in front of Steve and shrug your blazer off. “What would you like me to do...sir?”

“Suck me off.”

You’re barely able to breathe, sinking down to your nears, as tears begin to flow freely from your eyes.

“You’re so pretty when you cry doll,” Steve murmurs under his breath.

There is no dignity left in you as you unbuckle his belt and open his fly. The soft zip is deafening to your ears, and you reach in and pull out his hardening cock.

Shit. He wasn’t even fully hard and he was big. You’d be lying if you said that didn’t send a pang down to your core.

Giving him a few shy strokes, you then place your mouth over him, hollowing your cheeks as you lightly suckle at the tip. You pull back and take a deep breath. 

‘Don’t half-ass it’

You dive back in with renewed vigor, taking as much of him as you can and running your tongue across the underside of him. He’s hot and heavy in your mouth, and you find yourself pretending you were somewhere else with someone else, enjoying it. You let out a moan at his taste and Steve responds with his own groan, hand caressing your hair as you slightly speed up. His hand winds itself into your hair, and he begins thrusting his hips up into your mouth, extracting a whimper from you. Each buck of his hips turns harsher as his hand pushes down on your head to force his entire length down your throat, and at this point, you’re drooling onto his expensive slacks. He’s about to cum and you feel it; his thrusts becoming erratic and his entire body tensing, but before you can speed up and get this nightmare over with, he wrenches you off his dick and pulls you into a heated kiss, hands coming up to grope you all over.

You let out a startled squeal as both hands grasp your blouse and rip it down the middle, buttons flying everywhere, before he proceeds to do the same to the black lacy bra you're wearing.

“Ride me,” he commands.

All shame has left you at this point as you proceed to straddle him, your skirt now bunched up at your waist, and sink down on his length. The mewl that comes out of you is from how his girth is stretching you, and after what seems like eternity, you’re bottomed out and unable to move.

“Move,” he orders.

“I can’t,” you whine. “It-it’s too much.”

“Move.”

You let out another whimper as you slowly raise yourself a couple inches and sink back down, feeling every single vein on his cock brush against your walls. A few more attempts later, Steve grows impatient. A low growl is torn from his lips while he grabs your hips tight and slams you back down on his impossibly hard length.

You can barely hear the string of strangled screams and moans as he brutally thrusts into you, moving your body up and down and using you for his own pleasure. Every punishing plunge into your cunt punches the air from your lungs, and Steve’s groans are animalistic.

You glance over to the side to see Tony fisting his own dick, and the only thing that tears you away from staring at him is a particularly hard thrust from the man in the chair below you.

“Fuck, doll, your gripping me so tight,” Steve grunts.

The sound of skin slapping and the squelching of your now wet pussy is so overwhelming you don’t even register another set of hands on your waist.

“Bend her over more, Rogers. I wanna fuck her ass.”

[kainscape]

Really enjoyed the Morning fic you made for Bo! If possible, can I please request one just like this for Asa or Jesse? I just could use all the possible fluff right now~ Thank you!!

A/n: I can’t tell if this one is as good as the morning fic because I kinda just had a random idea in the middle of writing it, but I really like writing for Asa so here you go!

Death do you part ~ Asa Emory

Happiness wasn’t in Asas vocabulary or main emotions. It was drained from him at such an incomprehensible age he never mentioned it to himself. No whispers of joy or happy warmth, just exultation or sinister excitement. Asa wasn’t one to ponder or to think about what lies ahead in the future besides his traps and plans of new specimen to find.

Just like how he didn’t think anything of you when you were still asleep in your shared bed he never came too. Of course it was to be expected hence his return being quite early in the morning. He would’ve guessed around 7:30 to 8:00. The university needed to be stayed at, him finalizing the place to sleep at from his exhaustion. It was the best choice not to drive home in his state, and it made it easier to more access of his work.

You must’ve guessed he wouldn’t be returning home again, which seemed to be more common in the latest month. It annoyed you to no ends, but when it came to Asa and his work force, there was almost no convincing him to take a break. So you settled on heading bed early to meet him at dawn.

The professer walked through the front door, his case full of papers to grade and fix filling it whole in his hand. He kicked the door shut behind him, hearing it settle back in place as he laid down his keys on the end table. It was quiet except the air flow of the AC from the vents.

He travelled over to kitchen table, laying down the case on its side as he slid off his jacket. The temperature from inside to outside was perfect, it was cold and gave him freeway to wear layers in his house while it was humid and unforgiven on the outside.

He signed, a hand running down his face as he tried to rub away the tired feeling that buried within him. It was something he would never try to fix, like he could even attempt to do so. He made his way to the stair case, trudging up each step with a small hold on the railing.

Asa walked down the hall with a small click of his shoes. There wasn’t many creaks in the floor besides the two by the guest room and bathroom, so he wasn’t concerned about waking you.

Even if he did make a loud sound, it seemed there would be no one to wake from the empty bed that laid within the room. He kept his weak grip on the door handle, eyebrows furrowed as he looked around the room. It was dark besides the slight shine from the curtains, and the door to the bathroom was wide open and collecting darkness. Where the hell were you?

His hand slipped from the metal knob, his steps slow as he fully entered the room. He couldn’t have missed you on the second floor, you could be quiet at times but not that quiet. He analyzed your personal items, taking count to see if there were any gone. You were the only person to ever gain Asas full trust, he thought you realized the great importance of just that as he formed conclusions.

He didn’t even want to move from the room, his mind blank as the scenery before him was bare. Maybe he did miss your presence on the first floor, the realization that he was so tired coming into mind. With first ever hesitance, he headed for the stairs, slowly making his way to the living room and kitchen. It’s like he was almost begging you to be down there, wanting you to be curled up on the couch almost half asleep or in the kitchen one your phone at the table.

But you weren’t. Still reaching for that unacceptable feeling that you left him, he traveled to the bathrooms, the pantry, the closet. He ripped open the doors, unhinged more than he’s ever felt. He was desperate to see you, even if it was in the fucking basement. His breath picked up the pace, somewhere in between fast walking down the hallways.

He returned to the kitchen, running a hand through his hair. He was sure that you were here, you were just hiding from him. He ran a hand through his hair, closing his eyes with a deep sigh. He pushed down the nagging feeling pulling at his heart, instead focusing on the primal feeling of hunting you down.

He’d rather not feel hurt like this compared to other emotions. The light from the window above the sink showered him, his eyes traveling with the few dust particles in the air. That was until he was forced to focus on the figure in his backyard. He walked up the counter, his hips leaning against it as he squinted his eyes to see closer.

It was you, sticking your hand through a metal wire fence to pet a dog. You were on your knees, resting back on your heels as you smiled. The clothes you must’ve slept in last night were still on, gathering water on the fabrics knees. He couldn’t stop staring, his hands resting on the edge.

You could say it was relief, but he didn’t care as he exited through the back porch door he never used. The sound of the door shutting closed caught your attention as you looked over your shoulder. Asa headed toward you with determination, you calmly petting the dog once more as you rise to your feet.

It was tension that stretched between you two, his hand cradling the back of your head as he observed you. You raised your eyebrows with a smile, happy for him to be this close at such early mornings. You had been sitting on the back porch, taking in the scenery of his beautiful back yard before a simple dog showed up, practically begging you to pet him.

You most likely didn’t hear the car pull up, the modern vehicle quiet. But, here Asa was. Quiet besides the quickened breaths and intensely loud stare. Your hands tested the water, running up his forearm and bicep while the other reached around his waist. It was quite odd, no words spoken from him, actions far from the collector in this moment.

You weren’t complaing, finally deciding to pull him closer. He obliged, pushing you into his chest as he looked across to the dog that resided in the same place. He could almost say he was pissed at this dog for taking away his companion like that. But he insisted on holding you, his chin gently resting on your head.

He couldn’t say what possessed him to hold you in such a random place at an early morning of the day, but he liked it. You hadn’t left him, you didn’t break that trust he never let free. Instead you were simply out of sight, subconsciously hiding from him like he had told himself.

You guys had returned inside the house, you explaining why you were out there as he sat at the kitchen table, cracking open his case to destroy his chance of sleep once more. He would usually travel to his work room, not to be bothered by you or anyone. He wanted to keep you in sight for the time being, wanting his senses to interact with you in anyway.

As he listened to your plans that would probably change throughout the day, he relaxed his face and body, looking up to you. You were rambling as usual, one thing that he grew to seek out when you would converse with him. Maybe it was a smile forming, maybe it was just his lips resting. But either way, he was satisfied for the time being.

Asa hated to admit it, but he actually cared for you, absentmindedly searching for you in simple things. Like how a certain color on an item would remind him of you entirely. It just goes in depth to how.. attached? Connected? He was to your relationship. It made him feel better about himself honestly, the way you loved him unconditionally even after everything you’ve seen him do.

It was the way his first thoughts were to look for you, rather than hunt you down which came later. It showed him how important you were, that you weren’t another common specimen. As he scribbled on the papers, he realized that even if you had left, he would find you. You were his. Thinking that made him, what you could say, happy. It would be like that until death do you part.