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s-4pphics · 2 days

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candy crush. (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: you’re too sweet, and ellie hates it.

WORD COUNT: 4.3K

WARNINGS: recordshopmanager!ellie, crumblcookiebaker!oc, hurt/comfort, ellie’s a cunt, ocs too sweet, FLUFF?? FROM ME??? HUHHH, crushing, slight suggestive thoughts

A/N: idk where this came from lol

Ellie’s reorganizing the vinyl selection when a delicate hand lands on her shoulder. “I know your miserable ass doesn’t enjoy company,” Dina hisses in her ear, purposefully hushed, “But you got company.”

Ellie’s eyebrow quirks with confusion, leaving the earplug that blasts Head like a Hole to dangle over her shoulder. Her eyes glaze over the semi-filled shop, narrowing in on every face until she locks eyes with you from behind the guitar displays. The eye contact only lasts about 1.5 seconds before Dina smacks her leg.

“Don’t look. You’re gonna make it weird.” Dina quietly snaps from beside her, occupying her hands with some misplaced records.

“You know her?”

“I see her around sometimes. I think she works nearby,” Ellie catches her smirking from the corner of her eye, “… I think she likes you.”

“Fuck off.”

“I’m dead serious. She’s been staring for the past 10.”

“At who.”

“At you, dipshit.”

Ellie can’t help herself. She takes one experimental glance in your direction; discovers you typing away at your device with a black mask pulled down under your chin, bottom lip trapped between your teeth with worry. Your apron and tiny name tag indicates you probably work somewhere close by, but she can’t pinpoint where. You’re too far and her vision is failing.

“Get her numbe—“

Ellie’s head whips to face Dina, “If you don’t shut up, you’re fired.”

“Abuse of power,” She snarks in return, “C’mon! She seems so—“

“D-Do you guys have any acoustics for sale?”

You’re a ninja, for sure. Both girls' heads snap around to face you — who stands a bit too close for Ellie’s liking — phone desperately clutched to your chest and eyes wide as a doe. Mainly locked with Ellie’s before they drop to your name tag.

Crumbl. 2 shops down.

Fuck.

“Why, yes!” Dina says excitedly when Ellie doesn’t reply, “Most of ours have been used, but they’re still in great condition. Are you interested in renting or purchasing?”

“Purchasing… I think.”

“No problem. I can show you some that we have on display, and if you don’t like those, we have some stocked in the back!”

Ellie’s forehead creases. Dina has never been this active in making a sale, let alone interacting with any customers. Ellie is always the one who’s forced to pick up her and Riley’s slack in the shop. She catches the light traces of disappointment that overtakes your expression at Dina’s interjection, but eventually, you’re led over to the guitar displays.

Ellie sighs in relief.

That brief exchange gave Ellie everything she needed to know. She doesn’t find gratification in denying proposals at work, but after months of being hit on by a multitude of customers — the men particularly piss her off— she’ll be as stern as she needs to be to get the point of denial across. Sure, it makes her look like a cunt to the general public, but she’ll take that over being chased after on the clock. No questions asked.

Ellie assumes that you’ve found what you needed because on your way out, persistent stares are thrown in her direction up until your departure. She dodges them with mastery.

She would hate to have to embarrass a strip neighbor.

Three days later, you stumble upon the record shop once more. Dina isn’t here to save Ellie this time, and Riley’s passing time in the break room. Your uniform is lightly dusted with white, presumably flour, and your mask is down, phone clutched to your chest like it holds all your secrets.

Your mouth drops open around a small smile when you approach the service counter, but Ellie interrupts before you can greet her.

“What can I help you with?”

She assumed her annoyance would be guarded by professionalism, but your smile drops at its corners at her tone. A light flinch that Ellie prays is enough to deter you from spending your breaks here.

It doesn’t. Your eyes still shine like the star that you aren’t.

“I, um… I actually wanted to talk to you. If that’s okay—“

“Is it regarding the purchase you made a few days ago?”

Dina slid Ellie a notice on the down payment you made for your used dreadnought since you weren’t able to pay in full. The scolding she received about “taking care of you” whenever you returned made her teeth grind together.

“N-No. I just—“

“I’d appreciate it if we kept the conversation about that,” Ellie uses the scribbles on her notepad as a distraction, “Did you have any questions regarding the instrument? Or if you’re interested in taking part in the lessons we offer, I could redirect you to Riley. She’s in charge of—“

“I just wanted to see if you were… interested in sampling out some cookie flavors I came up with? I’m a baking and pastry student and—“

“Look,” The tip of Ellie’s tongue sharpens into her cheek, irritation evident when you two are eye-to-eye. “I’m not sure where this proposal is coming from, but frankly, I’m not interested.”

The drop in your expression doesn’t stop Ellie’s relentlessness.

“I don’t know you, and I don’t know why you thought I’d be a good candidate for… taste-testing, but I’ll politely decline. No thanks.”

Her declination doesn’t sound polite in the slightest; quite snippy and condescending from your perspective, and it forces your windpipe shut. Only for a second before a strangled gasp leaves your lips. You’re not sure if it’s out of shock or lack of breath, but it aches in your lungs all the same.

Ellie’s glare sends holes through your back as you rush towards the exit, the small bell singing through the store and alarming your leave.

All Ellie can hope is that you got the message.

It’s a new week, and therefore, a new Crumbl cookie line-up. Dina won’t stop raving about the carrot-cake cookie which doesn’t resemble a cookie at all. It's tiered and way too soft and stacked with icing that’s sweet enough to rot teeth from the gum.

It reminds Ellie of you, for some reason; Somehow still managing to be a nuisance without trying.

Even more so now since Dina’s been using her 45 to walk down and see you. To talk to you. Dina has yet to cough up what about — not that Ellie cares. It’s just weird that you two suddenly have so much in common after knowing each other for all of two days maximum. Whenever Dina clocks back in, she tortures Ellie with dramatic retellings of your stories.

It’s Thursday; a quiet day for the shop that Ellie uses to her advantage when the sun is at its peak. Searching through cheap magazines and playing Candy Crush on her phone.

What a time for you to come barreling in. The formerly enjoyable shriek of guitar suddenly sounds like nails on a chalkboard at your appearance. No longer are you in all black. You’re in a sundress. An orange one. You look like a popsicle.

And you bear gifts. Ellie’s mood turns even more sour when she sees two bright yellow gift bags with smiley faces on them and a tray filled with coffee stuffed in your hands.

“Good morning!”

You’re smiling, gleaming, and Ellie’s nose turns up. She plucks one of her earplugs out and closes her graphic novel.

“How can I help you?”

You set your bag down on the display case of her prized arch top, and she sighs in exasperation. Annoyance sparks when she notices one of the bags has her name on it, flowers and hearts and sparkles surrounding the tag.

“Can you not put your belongings on the displays, please? I’d have to clean up after you since none of my employees will.”

You’ve already moved your bags and exclaimed apologies before Ellie could finish her sentence. She’s seconds away from shoving her earplug back in to tune you out, but you’re fast. Persistent. She hates it.

“I’m really sorry about that,” You say gently, and Ellie shrugs you off, “I, um. I-I came to, uh…”

Ellie blinks rapidly, “If you’re here to apologize for last week, don’t bother. It’s not needed.”

“Not at all! Well, I’m just… I wanted to drop by and—“

“You’ve gotten quite comfortable with just… dropping by. Have you realized that?”

Ellie’s squint is harsh and scrutinizing, and sorrow overshadows the light in your pupils.

“Since it’s obvious that you’re not understanding me, I’ll put it like this,” She leans a bit over the counter, front fully pressed against the glass and palms resting on the stainless steel, “I’m not interested in anything you have going on. Stop using your breaks as an excuse to come see me. I don’t wanna go out with you. And I don’t want to do a taste test. Drop it already.”

Ellie watches your lip quiver with a harshness exclusive only for people like you, tears welting in your eyes and your fingers pinching at the hem of your sundress. Insecurity is practically seeping from your pores, and your gaze drops shamefully to the floor.

Ellie’s just about to tell you to kick rocks when the STAFF ONLY door swings open and exposes Riley. Her break ended 20 minutes ago.

“Hey! You’re early!”

Ellie scoffs, “No, you’re late—“

“Not you. Be quiet,” She waves her off and smiles at you, who’s smiling back at her with guised genuity. A complete 180 from the you seconds ago. Since when were you and Riley on speaking terms? Friends?

She jogs from behind the stand, “Dina told me you weren’t coming til 3!” Riley throws her arms around your shoulders, and your hands tremble where they rest on her forearms. “Are those the goods?”

“Yeah!” Your voice sounds heavy. Like you’re guarding a breakdown, “I-I had some time so I stopped by a little early.”

“I got some to spare til Dee gets here. Hang out with m—“

“Actually!” You intervene shakily, “I have some other drop-offs to make. I really appreciate you guys doing this for me.”

“Are you sure you can’t stay? Watch me get my Food Network judge on?” Riley suddenly points in Ellie’s direction, “Who knows. Sourpuss might even pop a grin once she tries one.” Ellie’s cheeks run red-hot.

“Sorry, Riley. Maybe next time,” You’re already wobbling towards the exit, “But, please call and tell me what you think! Dina, too! Any feedback is appreciated!”

“I’m sure they’re delicious, Monster!” Riley compliments playfully, “Text me when you’re home!”

When the door shuts, Ellie sees Riley’s back stiffen at the sight of you frantically wiping your face through the glass.

“What the fuck did you do.”

“I didn’t do shit. She’s loitering.”

“Lo— Oh my fucking god, you’re an embarrassmen—“

“No, she is. Taking up space for no fucking reason to come and see me. She’s loitering—“

“You’re blowing a fuse over fucking cookie samples?” Riley stares at her like she’s nuts, “And not to burst your self-centered bubble, but I told her to come. She’s been asking all the stores on the block if they’d like to taste ‘em.”

Ellie pauses, expression softening only slightly when Riley continues,

“I told her you don’t like chocolate, so she made a peanut butter version for you.” Riley shakes Ellie's special, slightly smaller bag as a means to taunt her, and the freckled girl’s face burns red. Glows even harsher when her friend throws in, “You cunt. She’s a sweetheart. Not everyone is fucking obsessed with you.”

Riley leaves Ellie to simmer in her discomfort, slamming the break door shut. The day seems to drag on longer than usual.

Ellie’s organizing the break room when she comes across her small baggie that Riley left behind. She would’ve expected her friend to take them home after Ellie’s dramatic blow up, but there it sat on the counter, untouched and jeering.

Tempting enough for her to rest the broom against the counter and inspect its contents. Wafts of cinnamon and peanut butter hit her through the small opening of the bag, and her heart gives a squeeze. The cookie is iced to perfection — an entire scenery on the light brown canvas. So many flowers and trees and the blue hues of the sky; almost too much detail. It looks printed on.

You’re artistically talented and the cookie smells divine.

One nibble wouldn’t hurt. She’s sure the damage she caused is already irreversible.

But when she cradles the carefully swaddled cookie, a small note falls from beneath the bunched cling wrap. She knows she shouldn’t. She should really, really leave the neatly folded piece of paper where it lays. Down the cookie. Trash the bag.

She takes the cookie and the note back to her seat at the table. The cookie isn’t what she unravels first.

“thought I’d make you a separate batch. Riley gave me the heads up about your chocolate disdain. I’m too paranoid to ask for your number in person, so I thought I’d use bait instead. I hope it’s convincing enough. Please let me know if it’s decent. Thank you for tasting.”

Signed with your name and a smiling heart with wings. Ellie’s heart shatters, remaining shards dangling from the rim of her ribcage. She can already see her friends glaring through her chest when they visit the apartment to berate her tomorrow morning. She already knows what they’re going to demand from her, but she’s three steps ahead.

She ate the entire cookie in two bites right where she sat. It was delicious. Almondy, not too sweet, gently spiced. Probably the best she’s ever had.

Ellie has never been to Crumbl before.

The viral spot is always bustling — too crowded and filled with loud teenagers with a sugar rush for her taste. Plus, she’s already on the clock when they first open. But the record shop is closed on Fridays.

She put an extra bit of care into her appearance. She doesn’t recall the last time she did her hair. Half of it is pinned up and her button-up is neatly pressed. Jitters rustle in the pit of her stomach and her forehead is a bit damp, mainly because she can see you through the goddamn window.

In uniform, you stand at the register with the same beaming smile from last week, talking and giggling with your coworkers, and Ellie instantly feels guilty. Your day seems off to a great start, and here she is… About to ruin it. She almost turned around at the thought.

But the small bell above the door blares loud, and your bright smile drops once you recognize her, and with that, her stomach. Ellie mentally notes the bags forming under your eyes and the tension in your shoulders. It looks like you haven’t rested for days. Her heart squeezes.

Your movements turn robotic; stiffly perched on the sides of the iPad stand as your thumb works on the screen. You haven’t looked Ellie’s way since. She approaches the counter with her tail between her legs, fidgeting with her middle finger.

“Um… hey.” Ellie’s quiet. Out of place. Afraid.

“What can I get for you?”

Even with the stiffness, you somehow still manage to sound as soft as a cotton ball, but Ellie’s body locks. The scenario hits her like a brick wall; she’s doing exactly what she accused you of doing to her last week. Bothering her at fucking work. She should’ve never come to your place of business to coddle her ego. She feels like a hypocrite. You certainly see her as one.

“Um… A cookie?”

“… What flavor.”

“Uh… peanut butter?”

You swallow thickly, voice hollow, “That’s not on the menu for this week,” You point towards the display of cookies that were big enough to feed a family, “These are the six we’re serving until Sunday. You can also look at the menu on the screen.”

Ellie follows your pointing finger. How the fuck does this place work? Weekly flavors? What the fuck does that mean? She quickly examines the names of cookies that flash across the screen: raspberry cheesecake, pink velvet… Mom’s recipe? Odd name for a dessert but she lets it slide.

“W-What’s your favorite?”

You’re a baker, for fucks sake. You’d have better taste than anyone, better than her, she’d painfully admit.

She watches your fingers clench around the screen, tapping mindlessly.

“Um… raspberry cheesecake.”

“I’ll get a dozen.”

“O-Of the same flavor?”

She shrugs like it’s obvious, “… Yup.”

You give her one skeptic look before tapping at the screen. “It might be a little wait. About 15 minutes. Do you mind?”

“No.”

“Cash or card?”

“Card, please.”

More tapping, “That’ll be $41.65. Swipe or tap whenever you're ready.”

A financial dent over a box of cookies was not on her bucket list. You hand her the receipt, and before you can rush to the kitchen, Ellie exclaims, “When’s your break?”

“Excuse me?”

“W— um, when’s your break?”

Your coworkers are suddenly very interested in Ellie, all four of them eyeing her like venomous hawks. Her cheeks burst into flames.

“Um… I don’t think that’s any of your concern.”

And you’re right. Anything involving you is short on Ellie; it was never her business, but a burning in the pit of her stomach desires to learn. Needs to catch you at the right time to give you a proper apology even though she doesn’t deserve the time of day. She doesn’t know what to say.

You use her floundering as a scapegoat and hustle behind the slamming doors. Just as Ellie rushes to leave empty-handed, one of your employees — Abigail reads across her name-tag, keeps professional, but Ellie’s skin burns with the fire in her eyes.

“We’ll have those right out for you,” monotone, but gruff. It makes Ellie wonder if you told any of them about her — she doesn’t doubt it.

“You can wait outside.��

One stiff nod, and Ellie’s booking it until her feet plant on the packed sidewalk, nearly bumping into a couple with interlocked hands. It takes 25 minutes for the box of cookies to be rigidly placed on the lounge table by another employee. Ellie scurries into her truck with a boiling face and pulls out into the road.

When she makes it to her apartment, she eats three mini cheesecakes in one sitting.

She sees why they’re your favorite.

The following week was filled with glares and curses from Dina and Riley — your newfound friends, evidently. They have a way of making Ellie feel like a worthless dunce. They both have rubbed in the tales of you being a thrill to be around; the life of the party whenever they hang out.

It makes her nauseous. And sad.

But her sadness swiftly shifts to bewilderment when she catches you smoking near a lamppost after closing. Still in your uniform with a bag over your shoulder, pants dusted in white, proof of your labor. It’s dark out, the only illumination coming from the light stood tall above you and the orange gleam of your cigarette. The sight shocks her. You didn’t seem like the type.

Maybe that’s where Ellie went wrong with you: constantly assuming… who you are. Your desires, your intentions with her, her friends. She’ll admit her wrongs, of course.

But it has to be to you.

Ellie scares you when she approaches, inhaling the nicotine a bit too roughly because you start heaving. Shoulders hunched and jumping with every cough.

“Uh — fuck, I’m sorry! I-I thought you could see me coming! I didn’t mean — fuck —“

You’re still choking, but you hiss in between, “What the fuck do you want!”

“I’m just — I’m sorry about —“

“You’re not — cough — you’re not sorry! You made your point clear. I don’t why you keep — cough cough — following me. I left you alone like you wanted!”

“I DON’T WANT THAT!” Ellie shrieks in panic.

It’s a heavy-handed admission. A weighted confession that was said too aggressively given your flinching away from her. She takes an instinctive step forward.

“Your cookies… tasted fucking incredible. I’m also an asshole.”

The drag you take from your cig while she rambles is almost comedic. Brows cinched at the middle of your forehead, gauging her. You’re not convinced, but you’re not fleeing like the first time. She takes a leap, and a large step towards you.

“I feel really… really bad,” Ellie’s much quieter, eyes unwavering and the softest she’s ever shown you, “I shouldn’t have… said all that. To you. I’m just so used to being harassed at work. I’m sorry.”

Maybe nicotine calms you. Your body language isn’t as taut compared to when Ellie first initiated conversation, and your eyes soften at her reasoning.

The rasp from your timbre melts her skin like butter. “I didn’t know you went through that. That sucks.”

Ellie shrugs, “I didn’t know you were… nice.”

She made the mistake of attempting playfulness, “Maybe ‘cuz you wouldn’t let me talk.” You snark while ashing.

“I’m sorry.” Ellie implores.

You take one last drag before stomping out the flame. “Me too. For bothering you.”

Ellie cringes at your choice of words, but nods in acceptance. “Are we, uh… okay, now?”

A small smile grows on your face. It’s cute. Makes your cheeks puff out like a hungry squirrel.

“We’re good.” You extend a fist out to her, and she connects her own at the knuckles.

When they drop, Ellie nervously stares at her shoes, “Do you want a ride home?”

“I’m alright, thanks.”

“C’mon, I don’t want you waiting out here by yourself.”

You pause before asking, “What’s the catch?” Your brow arches mischievously.

Ellie doesn’t hesitate, “More of those cookies.”

A giggle escapes you. Soft and airy like a feather. Ellie feels a tight clench in her chest. A thumping from her ribcage. Has your smile always been this vibrant? She mentally kicks herself for not noticing before.

Ellie escorts you to the passenger's side of her passed down pick-up: opens the door for you and makes sure you’re buckled in before starting it up. She learns you’re a metalhead when she cranks the radio to the highest volume.

… How quickly can crushes develop?

Two months. Ellie’s spent two months finding every excuse to spend time with you. She welcomes your visits to the record shop and silently thanks the heavens above when you call after her shift to talk about your day. Listening to your rambles about customers and their weekly cookies has become the highlight of hers.

She’s also found comfort in watching you fail at playing guitar. You’re adorable whenever you strike an incorrect chord or break a string. She’s more than willing to guide you through your trials: late-night invites to her apartment to practice. One of your goals was to learn how to play the entire Vanara soundtrack.

Ellie assumed she simply enjoyed being in your space. She does, but something shifted between you during one specific session. It was past midnight, and Ellie could tell you were getting tired. She innocently suggested for you to spend the night so you wouldn’t have to Uber at such a late hour, and you graciously accepted her offer. When you started to get comfortable on the couch, she tuts in disapproval and invited you to share her bed because it was more comfortable.

What a mistake.

After showering and changing into comfortable clothes, you both crawled into bed and swiftly drifted off. When Ellie’s eyes opened the following morning, her heart immediately traveled up to sit in her throat. If anyone told her she’d wake up with you completely sprawled out on top of her with your warm breath hitting her neck and her arms wrapped around you, she wouldn’t have believed them. She was completely frozen beneath you, but not for the reason she’d assumed.

Ellie was scared to wake you up. Ellie was scared you would move away from her.

She was pulled between waking you up and pulling you even closer. You were soft and warm and you smelled like her cinnamon body wash. A literal human cookie. She caressed your back as delicately as she could, and you nuzzled into her shoulder with every swipe. She hoped the harsh thrashes from her heart wouldn’t disturb you.

They didn’t.

You took a piece of Ellie when you left her apartment that morning. She’s not sure which part you stole, but she hasn’t felt the same since then. A pull towards you that’s electric, sparks her to life, keeps her up at night. Whenever you’re away, at work, not next to her, she’s desperate to pull you close. To breathe in the natural scent of you.

Evidently, crushes develop rather quickly.

“I thought baking was supposed to be fun.” Ellie huffs from where she lays on her bed.

“It is fun! My favorite past-time, actually,” She watches you pace around her bedroom, guitar still strapped securely around your shoulder, “It’s just stressful when you have chefs constantly breathing down your neck. It’s so hard to be creative because they nitpick everything.”

Creating a menu is much harder than Ellie assumed. She’s become the person you’ve come to whenever you’re fired up from classes, ranting and raving about the apparent dickheads that judge your creations. After testing your recipes for as long as she has, how could anyone turn down a dessert from you?

You’re such a hard-worker. Focused, determined… pretty when you’re brainstorming. Pretty when you’re talking… Pretty when you’re smiling. Standing. Staring off into the distance.

“Hm.”

It’s all Ellie can say. She’s been trying to mask her rampant stares at your bare thighs for the past… however the fuck long. They look so soft. So pliable. So easy to stretch and pry and yank at—

Her guilty pleasure went from collecting Pokémon cards to gawking at your legs whenever you wear shorts.

Ellie’s definitely crushing.

Crushing very, very hard.

#mean!ellie #ellie williams au #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams angst #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams #ellie williams x you #ellie williams fluff #lesbian #works 𖧧࣪#ellie the last of us #the last of us smut

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alhaithamhabibi · 1 year

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#— meena rants #i'm putting this on tags just bc :p #very stresed out about college and my grades #but my mother istg #she could be the most understanding woman or the harshest critic #and when she's the latter #its like talking to a brick wall #she just never hears my side out or doesn't understand why i do what i do #she expresses her dissatisfaction so much #i grew numb to it but every now and then it hits me #and the way she makes her comparison to me and my other cousins #i love them and so happy that they're doing what makes them also happy #but i don't want to ruin that with jealousy #and mom makes it so hard #i just wish that she understood that i do what i want to do is because it makes me happy #anyways #on top of that just trying to get b's on my finals which is a lot harder than i thought #just taking a semi hiatus meanwhile #i'll post my works on thanksgiving or smth #just let me get through college first pls :')#and a part time job to pay off the bills

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lemmetreatya · 1 year

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OK but the urge to be milked by Farmer!Reiner is STRONG. I would moo for that man.🐄

farmer!reiner x fem!reader

this req was all the way from jan and i only got the motivation for it now <3 so enjoy

contains: established relationship, dom!reiner, semi public sex, m!pen, squirting, self-masturbation, spitting, cumshot

farmer!reiner; who everyone loves to buy their premium beef from, but nobody wants to purchase filtered whole milk through.

not because it was bad quality or anything! — farmer!reiner’s crates of white dairy were always thick and creamy and an absolute joy to drink from! it’s just…certain tell-tale rumours had gone round that within the stables, where farmer!reiner milked his cows, were the same ones where he occasionally milked his wife.

whether they were rumours or not? well.

“ooooh, baby. t-they gonna talk again!”

your cries are sobbish as you hold onto a wooden beam of the milking stable, one leg raised ontop of farmer!reiner’s shoulder whilst your other foot is flat on the ground to sturdy yourself.

farmer!reiner only grunts as he fucks into you sideways. the hold his hands have on your waist grips into your plump skin as his dick rams against internal ridges you didn’t think could be reached.

“let em talk. like i give a fuck.”

you can hear the annoyance in your husband’s voice but it didnt matter if you did or not, because it already translates into how harsh he fucks into you.

you let out a whine but farmer!reiner doesn’t like it; he knows its because you’re still thinking about the many rumours that had been spread about this very habit you both had, rather than it being from him pleasing you.

farmer!reiner makes a hughck, twp! sound as he spits out the farmer’s gum he had within his mouth onto the mesh floor. he then readjusts his position which results in him bending you forward into the wooden beam. finally, he’s getting the whines he wants out from you and that greatly pleases him.

“sod what they think.” he grumbles but the contrasting smirk on his face is sick.

he brings one arm round to hold onto your stomach as he presses down onto it, which he knows causes a rise out of you.

“i can fuck my wife.” plat, plat. “on my land.” plat, plat, plat. “where’ver the fuck i want.

farmer!reiners hitting all the right spots so you can only nod in numb and dumb agreeal. the feeling of your husband always left you full and you couldn’t help but let out a low and long throaty moan. it’s inevitable! that budding pressure at the base of your stomach is staring to feel so tight and you can’t deny that all of the feelings surging within you feel so bright and so fuzzy and so fuck, you were gonna—

“oouuhhh…”

unexpectedly an ooze of liquid squirts from between you and farmer!reiner as you cum onto his dick. your pelvis, slightly lifting from his wet length, posses you to rub your clit and spray your love over him — every ounce of shame is no longer your concern as you bare an obscene sight within the stables.

farmer!reiner can only groan as he uses one hand to hold you steady and the other onto the base of his length as he messily taps it against your squirting lips.

“yeah, that’s it darlin’. all over my cock, juuuuust how daddy likes it.”

your body jolts as you go through the lasting dregs of your orgasm. once the after effects wash over, you’re suddenly feeling slump and palpable.

farmer!reiner holds you upright as he can feel you coming down from your high. his eyes are beady as he looks over you to gauge your condition. but regardless, he slightly bends down to place a warm kiss to your jersey sleeve before affirming your exploit.

“god, i love ya. did so well. always do so well fa me…”

you let out a tired reply, mumbled and lazy as all you want to do is now snuggle with your husband in bed. however, farmer!reiner continues to stroke his still red and tall standing dick; the length of it shiny wet and slick from your juices.

he shivers once he feels a small gust of wind wisp over his sensitive slit but it doesn’t dwindle his need. if anything, it amplifies it.

“but…” farmer!reiner places another kiss along your arm. “imma need you ready to go again.”

“again?”

the whine is evident in your voice but farmer!reiner doesn’t pay it any mind. instead, hes reentering your spent cunt and you can only let out a desperate mewl.

“yes, again. you already know big daddys gotta cum inside that pretty cunt of yers. nothing new.”

despite your protests, your body takes no problem in remoulding itself around your husband’s cock. if anything, he slips in so easily that you cant help but comply. arching your back, you beckon upwards with a lax mouth and outstretched tongue and farmer!reiner already knows you’re on board.

spitting onto your moist muscle, farmer!reiner doesnt leave his saliva there long before hes enclosing his lips around your tongue for him to suck on — you keen as your husband nurses your mouth and moans into a dirty kiss and almost forget that hes now balls deep inside of you again.

farmer!reiner kneads his fingers into your arm that hes holding you upright by and the action is tender, but his thrusts come out erratic as he works to achieving his nut.

“mmm, you feel so warm.” farmer!reiner speaks into your skin as he lets go of your mouth to kiss along and into the crook of your neck.

you moan at the affection your husband is pouring into you because you know hes close. reaching back your hand, you hug around farmer!reiner‘s neck so that you could bury him deeper into you, encourage him to indulge and devour you.

“you always fuck me s-so good.” a wince forms onto your face as you feel your hand dig a bit too deep into the pillar stem but it doesn’t matter.

“mhm. gotta…gotta fuck you. make feel good.”

your juices from before now feel cold against your leg as the squirt starts to dry up but still, the wet squelches of your husband fucking into your cunt dribble down your thigh and you can’t help but feel so erotic.

“ahhh, im gonna come, im gonna come, im gonna co'm. im gonna…nrrgh.”

farmer!reiner only lasts a few more thrusts before hes pouring his milk into you, a muffled moan leaving his mouth as his face is still buried within the crook of your neck.

you slightly curse underneath your breath because you never really think you could be any fuller once impeached with your husband's cock, but yet here you were, letting out a half choke as you react to being completely stuffed.

"sh'i...baby"

farmer!reiner's grip is tight on your arm as he tries his best to not lead his whole body into a physical combustion. he's aware that he's carrying most your weight whilst still being buried to the hilt inside of you and therefore can't just flop down like he usually would in bed.

with haggard breathing, you weakly bat the man's chest and instantly he gets the message. farmer!reiner slowly pulls out of you with a plop but not before he's kissing the base of your neck.

"rei..." you weakly sigh, and your husbands letting out a weak chuckle.

"i know, darlin'. we gon go getchu cleaned up and then go check on the stack import, okay?"

"ohh, but i'm too worn out for dealing with hay and numbers!" you whine as you turn to lean your back against the pillar and farmer!reiner's only chuckling as he zips up his pine coloured breeches.

"i promised hoover we'd pass by today. id go on my ones but you now how his littlens get when they see me but dont see you."

yes, you do know how the hoover's kids get when they don't get to see you, but that's not really your worry right now.

with a complain-y moan you look up at your husband with wide pleading eyes because you really dont want to be doing house visits right now. but farmer!reiner, knowing how you are, can only let out an airy laugh before he leans down to deliver you a sweet kiss.

"do this one thing for me and i promise the rest of the day's yers." he mumbles against your lips.

you almost decline, but the sudden feeling of farmer!reiner's slightly cold fingers caressing against your swollen pussy lips as he gathers the leaking cum from around your folds and scoops it back into you, makes you reconsider.

with a bite of your bottom lip, you caress your cheek against his.

"mm. fine."

(not even several hours later, an anonymous account posts several pictures to your online community which clearly depict you and farmer!reiner's earlier escapades. when your husband sees them, he laughs with boisterous vim.

"well, at least they got our good angles!" he'd say, his eyes unable to look away from the content)

#reiner aot #reiner headcanons #reiner braun #reiner x reader #reiner x black reader #reiner smut #reiner scenarios

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steddieas-shegoes · 5 months

Text

light of my life, pain in my ass

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'christmas' rated e cw: interrupted sex, mention of dom drop tags: established relationship, mishap with christmas lights, dom/sub, dom eddie, sub steve, hurt/comfort, they take care of each other

is this based on a semi-true event that did not happen to me but that i do bring up as often as i possibly can to the people it did happen to? maybe.

"You cannot be serious." Steve's voice went from high-pitched, breathy, whiny to serious.

Eddie wasn't panicking. He wasn't.

But he was getting there.

"Just. Stay still for a second." Eddie's usually steady fingers were shaking as he tried to untie the Christmas lights holding Steve's wrists to the bed.

Steve tried, he really did. But the lights were getting hotter, and one of his hands was going numb from how tight the wire was wrapped around his wrist.

The panic was setting in when Eddie let out a huff, muttering something under his breath that sounded a lot like 'need scissors.'

"You are not using scissors!" Steve tried to sit up in bed, but wasn't able to hold himself up and his head hit the headboard hard. “Dammit.”

He felt tears spring to his eyes.

It was too much at once.

Eddie cradled his face in his hands, kissing his forehead, his cheeks, his nose. “It’s gonna be okay, sweetheart. Don’t cry.”

Steve cried.

He felt so stupid.

“You’re not stupid. Look at me.” Eddie didn’t give him much of a choice, his fingers gripping his hair roughly. “It was my idea, wasn’t it? And I’m the one who tied them too tight. It’s not your fault.”

Eddie kissed him again before going back to his task.

“Eds?” Steve sniffled. “Probably should unplug them.”

Eddie froze.

“Shit.” He smacked his own forehead before getting up to unplug the Christmas lights from the wall socket by his bed. “Sorry.”

Steve had enough sense to recognize the way Eddie was dropping just as much, if not more, than he was.

“Eds, love. Take a deep breath.” Steve watched him breathe in, then out, closing his eyes for a moment. “That’s good. Another one.”

Steve felt the lights loosen around his right wrist, not all the way, but enough to slip a finger through and tug to loosen it more. Eddie worked quickly then, almost tearing through the electrical wire to get it off of him.

When he did, Steve immediately reached for Eddie, seeking comfort and to comfort at the same time.

But Eddie was already turning his attention to his other wrist, laser focus that Steve couldn’t possibly distract him from.

Steve had to let him have this.

Eddie crashed before, dom drop he'd called it, and the only way out of it was for him to be so focused on Steve's care he couldn't think about what happened until after they were both stable.

Eddie's focus paid off, the lights falling from his other wrist.

Steve wrapped Eddie in his arms, whispering against his hair as he shook with a sob he'd been holding off.

"I'm okay, you're okay. No one's hurt. We're fine. I love you so much."

He repeated it until his voice was hoarse, until Eddie had calmed into a stillness no one would believe he was capable of. Steve knew he could fall asleep like this if he stayed still long enough, almost hoped he would so he could recover before they talked about it.

But eventually, Eddie's breath hitched and he sat up slowly, blinking down at Steve.

"Hey, baby," Steve smiled, full of fondness, love, everything Eddie needed. "Back with me?"

"Yeah. Sorry, sweetheart. Are you okay?" Eddie kissed the corner of his mouth. "Let me see your wrists."

Steve showed him, let him see the faint red lines that would disappear by morning, let him kiss them.

He looked over at the Christmas lights coiled on the ground, glared at their frayed wires where he'd tugged on them a bit too hard.

"I'm so sorry."

"Nothing to apologize for. We're both okay. We learned a lesson." Steve shifted and then let out a groan as the vibrator in his ass clicked on. "Fuck, Eds, turn it off."

Eddie sat back and started feeling around the bed for the remote control, eyes going wide when he couldn't find it.

"Shit. Okay. Um." Eddie looked at the floor, then stood up and checked under their pile of clothes thrown on the floor. "It's gotta be close. Are you sitting on it?"

Steve's answering glare was enough for Eddie to shake his head and lay down on the floor to check under the bed.

"Just take it out of my ass!" Steve whisper-yelled.

Eddie moved quickly, carefully, not wanting to cause any actual pain.

Steve sighed with relief when the vibrator was buzzing on the sheets instead of inside him, his eyes closing as his head fell back against the pillows.

"The battery might die soon," Eddie supplied. "I hope."

Steve started laughing. He opened his eyes and shook his head. "This night went horribly wrong." His laughter got louder, more hysterical.

Laughter bubbled out of Eddie next.

"Not sure I can ever look at Christmas lights the same way," Steve finally gasped out between peals of laughter. "Why did we think this would be a good idea?"

"Because it's always a good idea tying you to the bed and keeping a vibrator in you?" Eddie smirked, dodging Steve's hand swatting at him playfully. "I was feeling festive."

"How about next time you feel festive we decorate cookies?"

"Can I lick frosting off your-"

"Eddie!"

"I'm just asking!"

Steve shook his head, but couldn't stop smiling into the kiss he planted on Eddie's lips.

"Maybe."

Eddie pumped his fist up and down. "It's not a no!"

A sudden knock on the door interrupted them.

"Just found this remote on the floor by your door, boys!" Wayne's voice called through the door. "I ain't askin' questions. Just remindin' you I'm stayin' down the hall and would rather not know what this thing is for."

Eddie and Steve stared at each other with wide eyes before bursting into more hysterical laughter.

"Tomorrow, when Wayne goes back home, you can tie me up the old fashioned way and maybe not lose the remote," Steve winked. "Might even let you fuck me."

"I'm honored."

"Merry Christmas, love."

"Merry Christmas, Stevie."

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddieholidaydrabbles #christmas

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sanjisblackasswife · 1 year

Note

Could you please do a Luffy version of the high libido post please? I mean like Luffy finding out his partner has a high libido :) please

Luffy Finding Out His Girlfriend Has a High Sex Drive Headcanons (NSFW-ISH)

Continuation of this and this HC

Black Fem Reader in Mind

CW: More Implied Virgin Luffy because I have a problem, Fingering, Semi(?) Public, Gropping OOC Luffy,

He doesn’t know what the hell that even is.

You and Luffy were together for a long time, but never went as far as making out and you going down on him once, ever since then though your urges have gotten worse, but you wasn’t sure if Luffy would be okay of having sex considering you knew once you started with him you wouldn’t be able to stop. And it irritated you a little being so afraid to talk to him about it.

Luffy is a hands on and direct person so there are some moments where you have to just straight up tell him the truth.

However he is also very emotionally intelligent so when he notices how fidgety you get or the amount of times after training you run to the bathroom or bedroom, he peeps.

He ends up finding out about your little secret when you spill to Nami and he overhears.

You explain how much you are grateful to be with Luffy because of how carefree he is, but you’ve been afraid to approach him wanting to move forward sexually, but too afraid because your exes always belittled you for being so “dick drunk” (their words) all the time and it does shocks the boy a little.

Moreso makes him happy because that’s exactly what he wanted to it just wasn’t a heavy desire for him as it was you so the thought of having sex always came and gone in his mind.

But to know you wanted it VERY BADLY, but never came to him about the “problem” he was a bit annoyed at you. Is it that you don’t trust him or something? Who cares if you like to have sex alot?

He just didn’t get why you or your exes that the idea of wanting to have sex alot was bad?

Is sex bad? He thought.

So when he invited you up on the Sunny late night to cuddle after dinner he had a plan.

He knew how you got when he praised you, kissed you, or really any kind of physical attention so he did just that and more.

“You feel really soft, Y/N.” Luffy hummed in your ear holding you under the blankets, the air smelled of the sea and it was just the perfect temperature for being snug around watching the calm waves crash against one another. Your boyfriends hands didn’t graze away from rubbing your tummy under your shirt. You learned very quickly of his obsession with touching your belly alot. He loves kissing it, rubbing it, squishing it and even blowing raspberries on it. You know he means no harm by it, but times like this where his soft breathing out of his parted lips are hitting your neck, and his lips just barely close enough to steal a kiss you got squirmy.

And Luffy took note.

“You’re so jumpy.” Luffy spoke out loud eyes now fixated on your cleavage and warm skinny hands pinching your stomach . “You like me touching you, huh.”

“I…” You body stiffened, something in the tone of Luffy’s voice made your spine crawl, it was lowered, the same kind of voice he makes when he has a plan in motion.

You felt his hands lower and rest in between your legs, almost as if they went numb they didn’t move anymore, you felt the weight of his palms on your crotch where he insisted you wear a big sleep tee shirt under the covers. You laid uncomfortably still on his chest, eyes slowly closing to calm your nerves of feeling turned on, you didnt want to ruin this moment between you and Luffy because of your urges, but now you’re beginning to believe that’s what he wants as you feel his hands stir up again, the tip on his fingers swirling shyly on your clothed clit making you jump up, but you didn’t move far with Luffy’s head on your shoulder.

“I um…oh!” Your hand flew between your legs to grab Luffy’s wrist and stop the firm pressure he kept adding his finger on to your clit, you couldn’t handle being teased right now, “Luffy are you..are you okay?! Why—“

Luffy just placed his lips on yours, he didn’t want you to think too much anymore, your face was hot, but your thighs were hotter as you squeezed his hand in while he rubbed quick and small circles using his two fingers on your panties.

Both humming and moaning in his mouth it didn’t take long for you to give into Luffy’s touch, he smiled in between kisses and pulled away.

“You should have told me you like having me play with you like this. “ he pulled your thigh away pushing your panties to the side, finally seeing the wet mess you made to swirl the pads of his fingers back on your sensitive bud. “We can do this whenever i don’t—ah! Care.”

You both groan feeling your pussy stretch from his now thick fingers he made on purpose to give you the satisfaction you been craving for a while. You move his other hand to go back to attention to your clit now rubbing with three fingers as two of them were inside your greedy cunt.

“Luffy….just like that…”

“I’m not good at this kind of stuff but if you teach me we can feel good together ya know?”

And as a man of his word he most definitely got better at it through time.

#one piece #TimikosLuffy #one piece headcanons #black reader #one piece x female reader #luffytaro #luffy x reader #luffy smut #luffy x black reader #luffy x female reader #mugiwara no luffy #monkey d. luffy #straw hat luffy #op luffy #luffy headcanons #luffy scenarios #luffy imagine #one piece smut #one piece x black!reader

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her-power · 5 months

Text

The End of All Things (e.m. x fem reader)

C/W: 18++++ MDNI, I'm serious! Sweet! Eddie, smut, fluff, fingering (f receiving) oral (f+m receiving) unprotected p in v (don't be silly, wrap your willy!) making out, swearing, grief, hurt/comfort, parentloss, death, talk of death, best friends in love summary: This takes place 5 years after the events of S4. Midsummer 1991. Eddie & reader are in their mid twenties. Eddie is your best friend and has come to you after an unimaginable loss you just endured. You realize your feelings for him during this time, and sweetness and sexiness ensues. I originally was going for a subtle smutty-ness, but I got carried away, whoooops. (I suck at summaries, I'm so sorry)

A/N: This is based off of a life changing event that happened to me when I was seventeen. A lot of it has actual conversations/reactions from said event. This was insanely therapeutic for me to write, and I thank you all for reading this if you do, this goes out to all the ones who suffered a loss and are still actively healing. I see you, you are a rockstar and keep going <3 I also pay a little homage to Matthew Perry/Chandler Bing. I'm still not over it and Chandler will always be my comfort character like Eddie. This may have multiple parts, I also semi-proofread this, sorry for any mistakes! The title is a Panic! At the Disco song, it's been on repeat for awhile for me and I think it's perfect for this so definitely take a listen to it after you read this.

Word Count: 7.5k

“She’s gone.”

Your breath hitches as you stare at the wide amber eyes of your father from where you sat on the couch. He was clasping your hands tight as you stared at him. Your throat tightens.

“You’re lying.” A smirk tugs at your lips, this was a joke. The second those words left your lips you felt something cold creep up your spine, turning your stomach into knots.

“Honey, I’m not. She’s gone, she—”

You stand up fast, ripping your hands out of his. Your bottom lip trembles as you feel your tears burn the corners of your eyes.

“You’re lying!” You yell at him. “Where’s Mom?! Where is she?! You’re lying!”

Your father drops his face into his hands, his shoulders shaking with sobs. You knew he wasn’t lying; you knew it. It didn’t mean you had to believe it.

She wasn’t dead. She wasn’t dead. Wasn’t. Dead. She’s dead.

Those words swirl in your mind as you quietly groan. Your fingers clench at the hem of your black camisole, pulling and tugging at the thin material, feeling too hot, too tight.

“N-no…” You whimper, your vision blurring as you stare at your distraught father.

Your very core burns, it stings, and you couldn’t tell if you had a heartbeat. Is that what she felt? You wonder. Hunching forward, the pain in your chest was building and building as you loudly gasp.

“Nooooooooo!” You wail loudly. You find yourself pumping your legs towards somewhere, anywhere. An escape.

The door.

You swallow back bile as you push your front door open with your shoulder, you awkwardly stumble down the front steps, and the cool midsummer air caresses your face as your feet hit the paved driveway. You gasp again, gripping at your chest, and then you scream.

You didn’t know you could make a sound like that. A sound that was full of pain, full of anger, full of a feeling of invisible hands squeezing your heart until it bursts in your chest. Your scream echoes through the quiet neighborhood; you inhale another shaky breath, nails clawing at your stomach as you wail again.

A dog barks in the distance, a porch light turns on, then another. You swear you just heard someone say your name. You lift your head to the sky; the stars were so visible and beautiful that night, looking like small freckles kissing the dark sky. Your legs tremble beneath you, they’re numb, and you feel them start to buckle-

Strong arms grab you from behind, wrapping protectively around your middle; hot breath hits the back of your neck. Cool metal from ringed fingers touches your skin, hugging your arms to your chest as you let out another heartbreaking wail.

“It’s me, it’s me, sweetheart."

Eddie. Your best friend since you moved to this shitty town ten years ago. Your sweet, chaotic, beautiful Eddie. Your legs finally give out and he gently cradles your back against his chest, resting his forehead against your bare shoulders, feeling the roughness of hard pavement as your bum hits the ground. Your head leans back against his shoulder, his curly hair tickling your cheek ever so softly.

“H-how…” You try to form words; they were caught in your throat; you weren’t even sure if you had a voice anymore.

You wanted to ask how he got to you so fast, and if he could hear you all the way from his trailer a mile away. You’re practically sitting in his lap; his calloused fingers gently smooth out your mess of waves in your hair. Your vision blurred with hot tears as you could feel the Earth shattering beneath you. His hands find your face, his fingers cup behind your ear as he turns your face to his gently. Only the soft light from the front porch light illuminated his handsome features. Eddie. Your Eddie. His big brown eyes are wide as he stares at you, he looks terrified. He has never seen you this way before. You called him a few hours ago in the afternoon to tell him your mom had to go to the hospital for an emergency surgery, that you had to stay home to wait by the phone for updates from your father and you would promise to call him when you knew more. You were supposed to go to his place to smoke some weed and order pizza, a traditional Thursday night thing for you both. You figured he probably wondered what was taking so long, it had been hours. And for as long as you have known Eddie Munson, he didn’t have much patience; it was hard for him to sit still. Your fingers twirl the ends of his hair as you try to focus on him.

“Tell me.” He says quietly.

You can already see tears forming in his eyes, and you suddenly realize this is the closest you’ve ever been to him. Your noses were almost touching. You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head from side to side, spitting and blubbering out more tears as the pain tightens its grip on your heart once more.

“I can’t.” You manage to gasp out. “Don’t…Eds, don’t make me say it.”

His hand cups over his mouth as he stares at you, realization settling on his face.

“No…” He inhales sharply. “No, Y/N…there’s no way.”

A memory flashes in your mind just then, a memory from only a few months ago.

You sat on the counter in the kitchen with your mom and Eddie as she made dinner. She was making his favorite chicken parmesan because it had been the five-year anniversary since he was no longer a suspect of those murders that had occurred that Spring. Your parents never believed he had anything to do with it, and it was your mother standing up for him at the town meeting that really helped his case, partially because the entire town was afraid of a hard-headed strong woman who grew up in South Boston, Massachusetts and also there was no evidence at any of the scenes of his involvement, or that he was a Satan worshipper. The other kicker was that Jason had disappeared, and everyone just assumed he did it after that. However, it didn’t stop the town from calling the cops every time they saw him walking somewhere or blasting Metallica from his speakers in his trailer. When your mom had her back turned, he attempted to stick his finger in the boiling pot of homemade meat sauce. Your mother wasn’t stupid, you swore she had eyes on the back of her head. She poked him in the side with the ladle handle, causing him to yelp.

“Come on! Just one taste! I promise I won’t ask for anymore until it’s ready. I’m STARVING.” Eddie pleaded, giving her a pathetic puppy dog look.

“Kid, get out of my kitchen. I’m not falling for that look again, I got stuck with you for ten years!” Your mother chuckles, stirring the sauce.

“You got stuck with a very handsome, talented, super funny son you always wanted! Did I mention handsome?” He towers over her and had sweetly rested his head on her shoulder, giving her a goofy grin. Your mother used the palm of her hand to push his face away and laughs.

“It’s my caring daughter’s fault for LITERALLY dragging you out of the mud that summer.”

Eddie looks at you, his smile reaching his eyes. “Yeah, your daughter is pretty awesome.”

He winks at you, and you roll your eyes, trying to hide the heat rising to your cheeks.

“Don’t kiss my ass, Munson.” Your mom laughs. “I’m sending you home a plate for your uncle, and you better give it to him this time!"

“He politely declined!”

“No he didn’t, you ate it on the way there!” You banter back at him. He whips his head around to look at you, his face falling in mock betrayal.

“You are not my best friend anymore!” He wraps an arm around your mom’s shoulders and kisses the top of her head. “She’s my best friend now!”

You roll your eyes and laugh, hopping off the counter and making your way back to your room, but not before hearing your mother say this to Eddie:

"Everyone is out of their damn mind for not getting to know you or love you like we do. Jokes aside, honey, I can never ever replace your own mother, but I will make damn sure that you know that you can always come to me for anything.”

“Awww, Mrs. Y/L/N. Don’t make me blush-ow!” He laughs, you’re guessing she pinched him.

“I’m serious, Munson.”

“I know, I know.” You can hear the smile in his tone. “Thank you. Thank you for everything.”

You stare him now; he’s trying so hard not to cry.

“Fuck.” His voice shakes and he pulls you into his arms for a hug.“Fuck. I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry.”

Your fingers curl into the fabric of his Motley Crue t-shirt. Your mouth muffled by his shoulder.

“I’m sorry too.” You whimper. He hugs you tighter, and you can’t help but completely melt into his arms.

Your father had left the house the same night. Your mom’s brother lived an hour away, who was completely beside himself over the loss of his little sister. You could see that your father was exhausted, that he was tired of making fall calls and answering the phone. You could tell he wanted to go see his brother-in-law. He was already talking about arrangements, and you pretty much forced him to go see your uncle, that the arrangements could wait and that everyone needed to clear their head because she had just died. You assured him that Eddie didn’t plan on going anywhere and that she wasn’t going to be alone, that Wayne was aware of what had happened and knew where he was.

You sat on the floor of your living room an hour after your father had left. The rotary phone was at your hip, the receiver at your ear before you slammed it down and yanked the cord from the wall. You were over the phone calls too. The cops were called, apparently a neighbor had saw Eddie “lurking” around your house and assumed that was the cause of your screaming. You were too pissed, too grief stricken, too exhausted to bite your tongue. You had snapped at Office Hopper, but as always, he handled your snapping as graciously as he always did.

“Who was it?” You snapped. “Mrs. Hansen, right? That bitch always had a problem with us because my mother was so outspoken. She could never say shit to her face but would say it to our other neighbors. Well, guess what Kathy! SHE’S DEAD NOW!” You scream out your front door, Eddie’s hands were on your shoulders, gently pulling you back in the doorway.

“Easy, easy.” He mutters in your ear.

“Y/N. There’s no need to yell, I’m so incredibly sorry for your loss, but when we get a call that is concerning like that, we have—"

“Why is he still being targeted as the town freak? He has done nothing wrong, ever! We’re not in school anymore, we’re practically grown-ups. We work, we play nerdy games, and we listen to music. Come on, Hop. You know she didn’t call over concern for me. She hates me.”

Hopper sighs, taking off his hat. “You have to be respectful to your neighbors. You know this. Especially…” He lowers his voice and leans closer to you. “Especially the ones who call when a cat shits on their lawn.”

A smile tugs at your lips, and your face softens.

“Get some rest kid. Let us know if you need anything.” He glances at Eddie. “Take care of her, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eddie nods. “Yeah, I know Hop. Thanks.” He says softly.

You shut the door quietly and lock it. You glance at the clock, not believing it was after midnight. You comb your fingers through your knotted hair.

“I’m going to wash up. I need to scrub this fucking night off me.”

He nods at you, and you gently squeeze his hand as you walk by him into the bathroom. Eddie watches as you walk away, his breath hitching as soon as you close the bathroom door. He runs his hands through his hair and shudders. Eddie was usually pretty good with his words, most of the time he could never stop talking, but tonight, he had none. He had no idea how to comfort you, he had no idea what to say, or what to do. He loved your mother. That woman took him in like her own with no questions asked and it got to a point where Wayne would offer her money, which she would always refuse. She was the only one besides Wayne to defend him after the murders and all the bullshit with Hellfire. You had told him that Hopper had to practically restrain her from punching one of the mechanics who wanted to go on a witch hunt to find you; you told him you had never seen Hopper so scared for another human being. Eddie has tears form in his eyes and he quickly swallows them back, groaning quietly from the stinging and aching in his chest. Your mother treated him like a son, and he knows he would never feel that again and that hurt. It also hurt that Eddie had never told her how he felt about you, how for so many years he would be brave enough to pull her aside and say something but would pussy out last minute. Eddie wanted your mother’s approval. It had been like that for ten years. Yeah, he slept around, wasn’t a virgin by any means, but none of them ever stuck. All those girls, those women, he always wished it was you. He loved you; he loved you so much, but now, he wasn’t sure if he could ever tell you.

You peel off your clothes after you begin filling the bath, you stare at yourself in the mirror. You look like you aged fifteen years in a few hours. Blood shot eyes, hair a wild mess, cheeks crimson from all the screaming and tears. You sigh as you step into the bath, the water hot and you wince as you feel every muscle unclench as you slide into the porcelain, until just your head is exposed above the water. You stare up at the tile on the ceiling, marking each corner that had cobwebs that you made a mental note to clean. You close your eyes, inhaling a breath as you sink your whole face under the water. The sounds are muffled, the sound of the faucet still filling the tub vibrates around you. You wonder what it felt like, what she felt. Did her heart stop first? Or her brain? Did she know she was going to die? You open your eyes underwater, your chest clenches again and you stop holding your breath. Your mother’s lifeless face flashes in your mind and you gasp in water, quickly lifting yourself up, knocking over the shampoo bottles. You sputter and cough out the water you had just inhaled. Tears spring to your eyes and you begin to sob and suddenly felt so, so alone.

“Eddie.” You groan out, but your voice felt small. “Eddie!” You call again, the tears still spilling.

You hear a shuffling of footsteps outside the bathroom door, and a soft knock. “Are you alright in there?”

You had forgotten you were naked and submerged in water as you lean forward to turn the faucet off. You felt insanely vulnerable, but you needed to clean yourself up. You just didn’t want to be alone. You bring your knees up to your chest, resting your cheek on your knee, doing your best to cover your breasts and torso. The lower half of your body was hidden by the soap bubbles.

“You can come in.” You tell him meekly, wiping away the hot tears.

You knew he hesitated, it took him a few moments to respond. “Are-are you sure?”

“Yes, I just need…I just need someone in here with me.”

The latch on the door clicks open, and he slowly pushes it open with his toe. His eyes were already averted to the ceiling as he walked in, trying his best to be respectful.

“You can look at me, Eddie. It’s okay.” Wow, you thought to yourself, you were feeling brave.

A blush rises to his cheeks, and he meets your eyes, breathing a sigh of relief when he could only see your bare shoulders, legs and back. He sits on the floor next to the bathtub, leaning his back against the wall and looks at the side of your face.

“Talk to me.” He says sweetly, resting his chin against the lip of the porcelain.

He watches you make the washcloth swim back and forth in front of you, and he gently leans towards your hands, taking the cloth from you. He waits for you to say something, but you don’t. He takes the small bottle of body wash and squirts a glob of it on the cloth, gently massaging it into the fabric. Your heart was racing, and you hear him inhale a shaky breath. He kneels up a little, the warm washcloth hits your skin so gently as he carefully traces circles around your shoulders. You shudder, a warmness settling in your tummy.

“What am I gonna do?” You say quietly, tears burn your eyes again and you groan, you were tired of the tears.

Eddie swallows hard, gently moving a piece of your hair back to wash your neck. This felt foreign to you, this semi-erotic moment of him touching you like this, so sweetly, so gently. Your Eddie.

“I don’t know.” He says to you. “I wish I did, but I don’t.”

You lift your head to look at him, seeing a blush creeping up as the hills of your breasts are exposed. You watch him as he concentrates on your back, gently moving the cloth up your neck, your eyes flutter close. He dips the washcloth in the water and squeezes out the excess, pausing before moving his way towards your lower back.

“You know whatever you need, I’m here. Okay?” He tells you and you nod. He gently wipes away an exposed tear from your cheek. “You’re kind of stuck with me at this point.”

Your face scrunches up in mock annoyance and he laughs, you chuckle. “Yeah, I know. Thank you.”

He's looking into your eyes now and your eyes dart to his lips, before looking back into his eyes. He quickly glances away to finish washing your back and you turn your body towards him so suddenly, water splashes up and he drops the washcloth. You don’t know where this feeling came from, how you just wanted to continue to be touched by him, be loved by him. Was it the grief? You weren’t sure, but you sure as hell wanted to feel something else besides the fucking horrendous pain. Your hands are on his shoulders, the wetness from you dampened the ends of his hair as he stared at you with wide eyes.

“What are you doing?” He whispers, his hands reaching up to cup your wrists.

You could tell he didn’t want to overstep, and he kept his eyes just on you, your eyes. He was a gentleman in all the right ways; but he desperately wanted to look at your body. You were fully exposed to him besides your lower half, and he had dreamt of a moment like this. Your hands touch his cheeks, your nose barely grazes his.

“Kiss me, please?” You say quietly, and his breath hitches.

His hand cups the back of your wet hair, pulling you towards him slightly as your breathing picks up. You could feel him tremble as you lean closer, your breasts pressing against the coolness from the porcelain, your nipples hardening at the contact. You push your mouth onto his, his plush lips as soft as you imagined they would be. He uses his other hand to cup your neck, you opened his mouth with yours, feeling his tongue enter your mouth so carefully. You were kissing your best friend. You were kissing your best friend. You were kissing Eddie. Your Eddie.

You wrap both arms around his shoulders, and his hands wraps around your middle. He was getting comfortable, years and years of his love for you was spilling out in this exact moment. You feel him lift you so easily out of the tub, awkwardly stumbling into the wall. Not realizing how strong he was, he grabs your ass, hoisting you up to wrap your legs around his waist. You could feel his clothes soaking from the contact of your wet skin and could feel the wetness that pooled between your legs as he kept kissing you, blindly searching for the handle of the door. The cool air from the living room air conditioner hits your bare skin, causing gooseflesh to prickle all over you. You push your body against his more, deepening the kiss and he groans, bumping into everything you both contacted. Pictures became crooked on the walls, you heard something tip over from a few of the shelves, and you finally make it to your bedroom door. Your back hits it a little roughly, and he pulls away from you to catch his breath before pressing his mouth to yours again and he finds the doorknob with one hand as the other continues to hold you up. You both fall to your bed with an oomph, you start laughing hard because your head had clunked against the headboard, and he looks at you with wide eyes.

“Shit.” He breathes out, pulling away from your lips and laughs. “I’m sorry, are you okay?”

You smile at him and nod, your lips pulsating from the kissing. He smiles down at you, rubbing your cheek, your hair, his hand gently smooths its way down your bare arms, towards your hips. He’s still looking at you, wanting to make sure it was okay for him to really see you before going further. You rub his cheek, and he leans into it, gently kissing your palm as he hovers above you. He was still trembling, and you take his hand, placing it on your skin below your breast. His calloused fingers squeeze the spot gently, his fingers barely grazing the underside of it as you watch his throat bob. He leans towards you and kisses your lips gently, leaning back on his heels as his eyes dart over your body. You bend your knees ever so slightly; he places his hands on your knees and kneels between your legs. He lets out a sigh and smiles sweetly at you and pulls off his shirt. His fingers trace a soft line over your ribs, he makes circles over your navel, the soft skin at your hips.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers to you, he chuckles awkwardly. “I mean, you’ve always been beautiful to me, not that just your body is beautiful. Your face is beautiful too, and your heart. All of you, everything—”

“Eddie, take a deep breath.” You smile, moving your palm up his torso and cupping his cheek.

He laughs, inhaling deeply, and places both hands on the side of your head as he leans down, your legs wrap around his jeans, feeling his eager bulge through the zipper. He kisses you softly, pulling away to look into your eyes. You could see tears form at the corners of eyes and you hold his face in your hand.

“What? What is it?”

He sighs, leaning up on his elbow. “For so many years, I wanted to tell your mom something that had been eating at me.” He groans, a single tear falls down his cheek and you wipe it away. “I wanted to tell her how insanely in love with you I was…I am.”

Your eyes widen at his confession, your heart does a back flip, and you feel your own tears prickle your eyes.

“I know it doesn’t mean much now, because she’s gone…fuck.” More tears spill from his eyes, you wipe them away, he holds your hand to his cheek. “I loved her. I loved her so much and she became a mother to me at a time when I really needed her, and she always told me I could tell her anything. I should’ve told her how I felt about you sooner, and I’m sorry I didn’t.”

Your heart broke for him. You knew how much he really did love your mom. Their relationship was for sure that of a mother and son. He had called her one night from the Hideout in the middle of the night because he got into a fight with a stupid townie and she’d bring him back to your house, cleaning up his wounds and comforting him. One night he had fallen asleep on your couch from a night of too much drinking, and she tucked him in, placing a large cooking pot next to him in case he had to puke. She would do so many motherly things for him that he wasn’t used to, and once he was finally comfortable enough to accept those gestures, he felt like a little boy again. You bite your bottom lip to stop it from trembling and you give him a smile.

“I think she knew.” You curl your fingers through his hair.

“How?” He asks you.

“I never really thought much about it at the time, but she would throw subtle ‘son in law’ jokes at me and I would just ignore her. Because you were my best friend, there was no way you’d feel any other way than that. Or so I thought.”

You trace an outline on his lips with your finger. “You love me?”

He nods, not bothering to wipe another stray tear away. “More than you know.”

“I love you, too.” You tell him softly and he smiles.

“Yeah? You sure?”

You roll your eyes, tugging a piece of his hair and he yelps. “Don’t make me take it back.”

He laughs, caressing your face with the back of his hand, smoothing out your wet hair. He leans down, kissing you softly. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him onto you, he lets out a hot breath as you push your tongue in his mouth. His hands travel down the dip in your shoulder, down the middle of your chest and stops on the curve of your breast. You feel the coolness of his metal ring against your skin, your nipple hardens, and you gasp in his mouth when you feel his fingers gently pinch the hardened bud. His mouth finds your throat, leaving kissing trails down to your shoulders, still pinching and squeezing your breasts as you squirm beneath him. His mouth takes your nipple in his mouth, and you hear him softly moan as he gently bites down. His tongue swirls around the bud and sucks, and you arch your back. His hand travels down your navel and over your sex. You whimper when you feel his fingers spread your lips apart and he runs a finger over your clit. He pulls away from your breast and kisses you hungrily, his fingers tracing circles around your clit, pushing down and he smirks against your lips when you let out a loud moan. No one has ever taken their time with you; you have only had sex with two men in your life and it was always you finishing them off first and them being “too tired” to return the favor. Eddie knew what he was doing, you knew this wasn’t his first rodeo, and you desperately wanted to know what else he could do. He pulls away from your lips, licking and kissing a trail all the way down to your navel. He leans back on his heels, and your eyes widen at the outline of his hardened cock beneath his jeans. He places his fingers in his mouth, sucking off the taste of you and you squirm at how sexy he looked. You bend your knees and open your legs wider.

“Damn.” He mutters, scooting back to lay in front of your dripping cunt. He wraps his arms around your thighs and pulls you closer to his face. “You really are beautiful.”

He kisses your clit gently, you arch your back, gripping at the sheets beneath you. His tongue swirls around the sensitive nerves, and he sucks on it, letting out a loud groan. It vibrated your entire body, and you moan. His fingers press into the meat of your thighs as he buries his face closer, his tongue lapping at your hole as you could already feel yourself about to burst. You grip his hair, tugging on it hard, which sends him into a frenzy, and you feel two fingers slide their way into you.

“Eddie…”

You moan his name, and he begins to pump those fingers into you, pressing against the sponginess of your g-spot. He continues to devour your clit and you lean up on your elbows to watch him. You couldn’t believe this was happening, you couldn’t believe that your best friend of ten years was doing these things to you. Your Eddie. He pulls away from your clit, feeling you clench around his fingers, and he slinks his way back up your body, his chin wet and dripping of you. He kisses you passionately, you moan at the taste of yourself, and he continues pumping his fingers in and out. His thumb finds your clit and rubs circles, you hold onto his shoulders as he kisses you, feeling yourself close to release. He pulls away from your lips for a moment.

“Come on, baby. I know you can cum for me.” His voice was lower, almost deeper.

Those words almost sent you over the edge, words you never in a million years thought would come out of his mouth. He pumps harder and groans as your hand finds his cock through his jeans and you rub your hand over the material. You dig your nails into his shoulders, and he lets out a hot breath against your neck, whimpering at the sheer intensity and passion.

“Fuck, Eddie…”

You moan out in pleasure and he groans against your neck. You feel the pressure building and building in your lower belly and you cling onto him as your orgasm rips through you and you cry out. He keeps his fingers inside of you, riding the orgasm out with you, the overstimulation was insanely uncomfy but as he kept pumping into you, you eased into another hard orgasm and your body shook beneath him. He slides his fingers out of you, you catch your breath as you continue to cling onto him. His hands grip your hip, and he looks at you, a smile creeping on his lips. You sigh, crashing your lips against his, unbuttoning his jeans hurriedly and sliding them off. His lips graze against your ear lobe and you roll him onto his back with your legs and he giggles. You laugh, kissing his lips, his neck and you lean up on your heels. His hands hold onto your hips. The length of him was almost intimidating, you bite your bottom lip and take him in your hands, gently moving your fist up and down. He lets out a deep groan and his eyes squeeze shut, arching his back. You rub his precum over his tip and he shivers, you move your head towards his cock and glance up at him. He looks at you with half lidded eyes and you lick a long strip from the base all the way to the tip, taking him into your mouth.

“Oh…oh my, unghhh—”

A loud, throaty moan escapes him, surprising you both and you both laugh. He covers his face with both his hands shyly, slightly embarrassed by the sound he just made. You kiss his tip, licking down his shaft and he whimpers. He grips the back of your head as you bob up and down, taking him all in, rubbing his balls to get him to squirm. He let out a low growl, a sound so animalistic and sexy you couldn’t believe you were the cause. He wanted to feel you, he wanted to be inside you and couldn’t wait any longer. He pulls at your hair, lifting your head up, your lips were swollen and wet with spit.

“Come here.” He says breathlessly. “Now.”

You crawl up to him, his lips catch yours in a passionate kiss. You were trembling now as you lined yourself up with his length. He cups the back of your head, sweetly pecking your lips as his other hand grips at your hips. You keep your face close to his, your lips barely touching as you lower yourself onto his cock. He squeezes your hips, throwing his head back into the pillow and lets out a throaty groan. You whimper as you take him all in, slowly rocking your hips to get used to the size of him as he stretches you out.

“Are you okay?” He whispers to you, lifting his arm up to cup your cheek.

You nod, pleasure was building in your belly as you grind against him, your clit rubs generously on his pelvis. You look into his eyes, running your hand up his chest, over his tattoos, tracing his lips with your fingers. You insert two fingers into his mouth, which he takes willingly and sucks. You move your hips up and then down, hard. His moan vibrates on your fingers as you rock faster against him; you remove your fingers and begin playing with yourself with that same hand as he watches you in awe. He arches his hips into you, and you cry out, your head falling back, he caresses and pinches your nipples. You lean forward, using the headboard as support to continue your movement. His tongue traces circles around your nipple, sucking hard and squeezing both with his hands. He moves onto the next one, you moan louder into his ear, and he grabs your ass, burying his cock deeper into you.

In one swift motion, he flips you on your back. His eyes stare into your soul, and you kiss him. He kisses you back with the same hungriness from earlier, taking your leg and moving it onto his shoulder as he thrusts into you. An insanely pornographic sound escapes your lungs, and he smiles against your lips. He leans up slightly to stare at your face, you were biting your bottom lip, and your eyes burn into him, and he could feel his heart growing bigger and bigger for you in that moment. You grab his perfect ass with your legs to push him further into you and he arches back; your lips go to his throat, gently nibbling on it and licking all over. Your orgasm was building in your belly, and by the way he was slowing down and getting a little clumsy, he was close too.

You pull his face towards you by the back of his head. “Fuck me.” You tell him through gritted teeth.

His beautiful brown eyes dilate, and you see the pure lust take over in his stare. He leans back on his heels, pulling himself out of you and you frown, he pulls you towards him hard by your thighs, his fingers for sure going to leave lovely bruises. But you didn’t care. Before you could make another comment, he slams his cock into you, and you scream out. He holds onto your hips, rolling his against yours at a hard pace, you swear you could see all the fucking colors of the rainbow.

“Fuuuuck…” He moans out. “Oh fuck-I’m gonna—”

“Don’t stop, Eddie.” You whimper, his cock slamming into your g-spot over and over was making you forget your name.

You move your hands down and find your clit, rubbing vigorously against it as your cunt clenches against his cock. He watches you rub yourself, a smile toys on his lips as he stares in wonder at you, he felt as if he was fucking a goddess.

“Oh god…”

“Cum with me, baby. I want to feel you.”

He groans loud, and that was enough to send you screaming, and crying out his name as you came all over his cock. You grip the sheets under you, still cumming hard and he slams faster into you, the bed squeaks and the headboard bangs into the wall and he sputters.

“Oh…my…unnngh.”

He slams into you once more, you could feel the warmness settle in your cunt as he came inside you, feeling his cock twitching as he slowed his pace and cried out, collapsing onto your chest. He rolls his hips against you and shudders. The two of you lay there in a pile of limbs, heavy breathing, and sweat. He lifts his head up to look at you, smoothing out your still wet hair, and presses his lips to yours. Your tongue goes into his mouth, and he moans softly, cupping the back of your head, deepening the kiss. He slides out of you gently, and pulls away from you, laying on his back. His hand rested on your thigh, and you could feel him dripping from you; you needed a minute. Or several.

“Well,” he says breathlessly. “I’ve never done that with you before.”

You weakly slap his chest and laugh loudly; tears prickle your eyes as you feel another laugh roll out until you’re full-blown cackling. He looks at you with a raised eyebrow and you laugh harder. He shakes his head, laughing with you, turning onto his side to rub your tummy gently. Your laugh was one of the things he loved about you because it was so contagious, and that this was the first time today he could see pure happiness on your face.

“I’m sorry.” You manage to say, your laugh still rolling out of you. “I don’t know why I’m laughing so hard. Oh wait, I do, you’re a fucking idiot and I love you.”

He laughs, kissing your cheek. “No going back now.”

“No.” You say, catching your breath, bringing your palm up to his cheek. “Never.”

He kisses your lips, your cheeks, your neck and leans up on his elbows. “My clothes are soaked.”

“I’ll put them in the wash.” You kiss his nose, slowly sitting up in bed, you could already feel the soreness between your legs. “I’m pretty sure my mom folded a bunch of your clothes you left here the other day.” You pause and turn to look at him.

“Of course she did.” He says with a sweet smile, tracing your spine with the tip of his finger. “Do you want me to go get them?”

You knew he only asked because the washer and dryer were in her little den with her vanity mirror.

“Uh, no. It’s okay.” You give him a smile. You go into your dresser, pulling out underwear and your oversized Queen tour t-shirt you got in 1987. Your mom had bought the tickets for you and Eddie; Eddie was indeed a total metal head, but he had a soft spot for Queen, probably because you loved them so much. You throw on the clothes and turn when you feel his eyes on you.

“What?” You ask, a blush creeping up on your cheeks as you stare at his naked body.

His right arm, which was covered in a full tattoo sleeve, was bent behind his head as he looks at you.

“Nothing.” He smiles sweetly. “I’m just trying to wrap my head around this. Around us.”

You lean over to him to kiss him, he holds your head,, leaving lots of pecks around your cheeks and lips, causing you to giggle. You pull away, turning around to grab his mess of clothes on the floor, throwing his dry boxers to him. He takes this opportunity to smack your ass and you yelp. You narrow your eyes at him, and pull out his chain wallet, snapping it open, pulling out some cash, you could only make out a few ten-and one-dollar bills.

“I’m taking this.” You tell him, shoving the bills into your underwear.

“Pretty cheap date, don’t ya think?” He laughs, pulling his boxers over his hips as your face falls into mock shock, you pull out the cash and throw it at his face, causing him to laugh harder.

You shake your head, leaving the room, heading towards your mother’s den. You slow your walking down as you meet the closed door. The grief starts to creep up again, your hand trembles as you reach for the doorknob. You twist the knob and push it open. An aroma of peach, rose and slight Sandalwood hit your nostrils and you have to hold onto the wall for support, blindly finding the light switch. The light is bright, and you squint, your eyes already filling with tears as the scent of your mother was everywhere in this room. Her vanity sat perched against the wall, the wood was a soft amber color. She had rebuilt this vanity after getting it from a garage sale a few years ago. You gently run your hand over the fabric of her sweater that hung behind the chair she always sat at; whether to do her make up, or randomly sketch some drawings in her sketch book. You pull your hand away as if burned, and you quickly go to the washing machine, tossing Eddie’s clothes in as well as some dirty ones that were in the basket. You see his folded clothes on top of the dryer, your heart hurt with how right you were and how she would never fold his clothes again. You groan, looking over the clothes, sniffling. You take out his Metallica tour t-shirt, and his black jeans. You exit her room after shutting off the light and quietly shut the door. Eddie was strumming at your acoustic as you walk back in, smiling at you at you hand him the clothes. He sees the tears in your eyes and immediately puts the guitar back on the stand.

He takes your hand, “What happened?”

You shake your head, trying to smile. “Nothing…it’s nothing. I’m okay. Can we go to bed?”

He looks you over once with concern and nods, gently kissing the top of your hand. You crawl into bed, leaning over him to turn off the light on your nightstand. You curl up next to him, burying your face in his chest. He wraps his arms around you, pulling the blanket over the both of you. You feel his lips kiss your hair and you sigh. All the sadness, all the grief had fallen away as he held you and you wished you could stay like that forever.

As if the universe was working against you, you woke up screaming. You were covered in sweat and tears pooled from your eyes as a panic attack settled deep in your chest. You sat up, leaning against the headboard, bringing your knees up to your chest as you scream out a sob. Eddie had woken up immediately, feeling you thrash around before you woke up. Dawn was approaching, and he flicks the light on. He kneels in front of you, placing both of his hands on the side of your head.

“Hey, hey, look at me, I’m right here.”

The dream you had replays over and over in your head like a broken record. You let out a painful groan, holding onto your stomach as you to try to speak and to calm your breathing before you hyperventilated.

“She…she was right there. Right in front me.” You tell him, your voice choking with sobs. “Right there! She was so close to me and I tried to reach for her hand but she kept moving away from me, and I ran to her. I ran so fast, but she just kept going further and further away until I couldn’t see her. And then she was gone. She was gone.”

You cry, hard, and he takes you in his arms, hugging you as you wept. You wail and he tightens his hold on you, gently rocking you as you gripped onto his arms.

“I’m not ready for this.”

“I know.” His voice trembles, smoothing out your hair. “You don’t have to be ready for something like this.”

“Why did she leave me?” You whimper, your entire body shakes.

“Why was she taken away from us!? Oh god…”

He kisses your head, your cheek, finds your lips and kisses them softly.

“Please don’t leave me.” You choke out. “Please.”

“I’m not going anywhere, baby. I promise you.”

“Don’t leave me.” You cry, holding onto him for dear life. He rocks you and you cry. You weren’t ready for the coming days, you weren’t ready to keep feeling this sorrow phone call after phone call, hug after hug, tear after tear. You weren’t ready for today. You weren’t ready for tomorrow. You weren’t ready. You weren't ready.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fluff #Eddie Munson x smut #Eddie Munson #eddie munson x female reader

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callmeadin · 2 years

Note

Could you write something about us catching scara as he falls from his tall af robot? If your up for it of course. It hurt to see him fall like a sack of potatoes lol

a/n - this idea has got me in a chokehold jfsdfhsdf it really did hurt to watch that scene sobs. i hope you like this!! i feel like i kind of got away with this one lmao

Scaramouche's S/O Catching Him From His Mech

scaramouch x gn!reader

pronouns - they/them - none mentioned

warnings - hurt/comfort, not proofread, the use of scaramouche's real name

everything around you starts to slow down; your hearing fades out, your sense of touch feels cloudy, and your vision blurs everything except for where scara is. where he's about to fall from such a height. you don't realize you've already started moving until you're almost under the mech.

you kept your gaze connected with his, watching as the realization comes to him, he accepts it, and admits to defeat. watching as the light left his eyes absolutely terrified you.

the impact was a lot harder than you would've liked, but you don't care. you cough through the dust, fumbling around to sit up. once you do, you already have him in your arms. looking at him, you take notice that his clothes are torn in some places from the impact of the fall, and no doubt from the wires that are still semi attached to his back. sure, it feels slightly uncomfortable on your legs, but that's not what's important.

your ears are ringing, your entire body feels numb, everything blurs together; but you know his eyes are closed. puppet or not, it still scares you. he never told you of this plan. you realize that the faint screaming of his name is actually coming from you.

"scara! scara, i swear to all of the fucking archons above, if you don't wake up right now, i'm going to wake you up myself," you can hear the pure terror seeping in your voice. no matter what you seemed to do, he didn't wake. you sure as hell weren't gonna shake him awake; you don't want to make it worse. you're sobbing full on now, crying out his name trying to wake him up.

"please, please wake up! please, kuni, please..." you don't know how long you sit there for, holding his delicate face in your hands, whimpering his name occasionally. at some point, you close your eyes and connect your forehead with his. it hurts you to see him so lifeless. your tears eventually dry up.

...

"i'm sorry for leaving you earlier, y/n," a voice, so soft spoken and small, kind and young. you refuse to pick your head up. you're too tired.

"may i see him?" the dendro archon kneels in front of you, tentatively reaching her hand out to you. tiredly, you shake your head, refusing the kind archon. you feel as if you'll lose him the moment you let go. you don't want to let go.

"y/n, i am unable to help either of you if you won't let me see him," her voice is soft, kind. you know she means well, and at this notion, with great difficulty, you slowly raise your head and open your eyes. you're met with nahida smiling kindly at you. the both of you. "i know you're scared, but it's going to be okay."

nahida cups scara's face in both of her hands, a green glow coming forth. after a few seconds, she hums.

"he will be okay. he must rest for awhile," she meets your gaze. "and so do you. you're injured." you try to refute, yet you can't find your voice. "it's okay, i will take him to the sanctuary of surasthana, and you can rest there, too." you nod your head, feeling the fatigue hitting you like a sumpter beast. you feel a warmth consume you, and unwillingly, you close your eyes.

• after that whole deal, you wake up to find yourself in a room located in the sanctuary of surasthana

• after wandering for a bit, you find nahida indeed taking care of scaramouche

• she informs you that he appears to be in a coma, and that it might take some time for him to wake up

• you understand, and she lets you sit with her

• eventually, she leaves to go do something else that requires the attention of the dendro archon, but she knows that you'll take care of scara in the meantime

• after some time has passed, and scaramouche wakes up and becomes the wanderer, he apologizes for scaring you like that, so many times

• you keep telling him that it's okay, because he's still alive, and that's all that matters

• he's okay

• even though scaramouche is a puppet and doesn't have the need to breath, he still makes sure to do the action

• he knows that it scares you ever so slightly when you two are cuddling, and he stops

• he doesn't want to betray you again, even though he knows you'll forgive him regardless

"i love you."

"i love you, too."

#genshin impact x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #x reader #gender neutral reader #genshin impact #scaramouche #mmmmm angst #delicious #nahida #lesser lord kusanali #new comfort character dropped???#that being nahida

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residentfromnowhere · 6 months

Text

| CLICKED |

ModernAU!SanemiShinaguzawaXAFABReader

TW: Narcissism, Angst, Gaslighting & Unresolved Issues/Ending

“You’re not even looking at me right now.”

“Is there a reason too?” You say quietly.

“What do you mean? Is there a reason NOT to?”

You pause, eyes still glued to your fingers. It’s been two hours since dinner and you’re still upset about what he said during it. See, you would have brushed it off and called him an asshole but the fact he went a step further and semi play flirted with the waitress further angered you this making you no longer want to look or speak to him. The fact that he even asked that angered you more.

You shrug and then grab your phone out of your purse, not keen on having to explain yourself or what he did to him. If he doesn’t know why you’re acting this way, then that’s not your problem. You’re done explaining what and why whatever he does is wrong and choose to instead do something you’ve never done before, stop talking and looking at him.

You have been dating Sanemi Shinaguzawa for a couple of years and it wasn’t always sunflowers and sunshine but you tried to look past that because you really did love him but with the things he would say and the supposed “jokes” he would make concerning your looks, your personality and family, you started to reconsider if he even liked you let alone loved you back. Arguments were worse and the thing he would say would make you think he has cheated on you, which later he would get upset because he would claim he would never actually do that to you.

“Are you serious right now, y/n? I’m trying to have a conversation with you and you’re not even looking at me.” He says in annoyance. “Just tell me what’s wrong so we can get this over with and finish enjoying our night because this is getting annoying.” Your fingers suddenly stop and he notices your once neutral expression change to shock then anger. He hit a nerve and he hit it hard.

Annoying? You? Being annoying? Your feelings in which he clearly hurt when he straight up disrespected you by comparing you to her and flirted with her while jokingly putting you down annoys him? You gulp and you can feel the tears starting to form in the crevices of your eyes. You’ve done a great job holding them back but something just snapped.

The nerve to say such things when he was the one to hurt you. The one to say after fully checking the waitress out “man, you used to look that hot. Wonder what happened” and then laugh and look at you expecting you to agree. Your heart shattered in that moment and the smile you once had was wiped from your face. The food came shortly after and not another word was spoken. He would keep trying to have a conversation with you just for his words to fall to deaf ears. Your body was there but you were removed entirely which now brings you to this moment.

“How about you ask that girl what’s wrong with me since you’ve run out of things to put on your list. Maybe she can help you find out.”

You didn’t have to look up to know his face dropped completely and you didn’t have to look up to know what he was thinking. He was going back to two hours ago and trying to find a way to possibly gaslight you into thinking you were too sensitive just like he always did. You hear him scoff and lean back, as though he couldn’t believe what was coming out of your mouth. It pissed him off to no end that you were still hung up on earlier and without hesitation says, “Are you serious? You’re still mad about that? It was a joke for fuck sakes! God, if I knew you were this sensitive in the beginning, I would have went for your friend instead.”

You quickly look up at him and your mouth slightly opens, disbelief all over your face before quickly looking back down. Your face is numb now and Then something hit you, like some type of epiphany. This isn’t the first time he’s embarrassed and put you done like this, it’s just that this was in public and with this and memories of past arguments flooding back, you finally realize that this isn’t who you wanted to be with nor marry.

To realize the person you once considered your soulmate and friend was really the worst person for you and enjoys hurting you brings you relief but shatters you. Have you really been that blind? Rose colored glasses masking narcissist behaviors as love? It was all too much for you and it finally clicked. The words, the comments, the shaming in private and acting lovey dovey in public, all of it finally clicked.

Before he could come up with something to say, your intrusive thoughts take over and what you say next will to you finally open your eyes to how toxic your relationship is and free you and completely ruin his world. Finally making eye contact with him you say,

“Let’s break up”

#nowhere’s library 📚#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #kny x reader #sanemi shinaguzawa #sanemi headcanons #shinazugawa sanemi #demon slayer sanemi #sanemi angst #tw: angst #kny angst #kny sanemi #sanemi x reader #kimetsu no yaiba sanemi #sanemi x y/n #sanemi x you

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reallyromealone · 2 years

Text

Day 22

Semi public sex 🎃 clothed sex

Hawks x male reader

Warning: nsfw, smut, male reader, bottom reader, MLM, sky fucking, dirty talk, praise, I did my best

When Hawks said he wanted to go flying (name) wasn't expecting this...

Usually when they flew, Hawks kept (name) on-top of him so they could cuddle and kiss but today it seemed like he had other ideas as a hole was ripped into (name)s pants as keigo fucked him in the sky nice and slow, the night sky masking them a fair bit.

"...shit..." (Name) mumbled as keigos cock sat deep within him as he sat on top of the hero and held up by keigos feathers under his shirt, tickling him lightly as he rode the blond slowly "shhh baby, take it slowly no rush" keigo said smoothly as he rubbed (name)s jean coveres thighs and began controlling the others thrusts, moving him nice and slow.

"C'mon~ p-please!' (name) pouted as he tried to ride faster, almost loosing balance if it weren't for the feathers "so you don't fall baby, Lemme handle it yeah?"

(Name) looked annoyed but nodded none the less as Keigo moved him via feathers to rest on the heros chest before pistoning his upwards, watching (name) choke slightly at the sensation as the cold air whipped around them, reminding (name) that they were in fact outside above people fucking.

Thankfully high enough and late enough that no one could see but still!

"You're tightening up baby, thinking of something scandalous?" Keigo said in a singsong tone as he thrusted particularly hard, hitting (name)s prostate effortlessly "g-god! Fuck!" "I prefer keigo but god works too" keigo joked as he kept his thrusts up, hard and slow right on his prostate as he used a feather to move the males chin up to kiss him, tongues dancing messily in a French kiss causing (name) to moan pathetically.

Keigo swallowed him whole, taking everything and anything he wanted from (name) and (name) let him without argument.

He would give anything and everything to keigo.

Keigos cock was hard and hot inside him, every thrust taking his breath away and sending him into a plane of euphoria like no other and he never wanted to come back to earth.

"Pleasepleasepleaseplease" (name) chanted as he met keigos thrusts once the blond loosened his grip even slightly, legs completely numb while chasing his high.

"Love getting fucked stupid on my cock Huh? So ready for it whenever I want" whenever keigo was close he began dirty talking more, babbling obsinities to (name) who soaked it up "reach for me to take out the stress of work on you, fuck yo into the mattress"

Any 'please' 'harder' 'i wanna cum' or anything all translated to a slurred out 'keigo!' as he clung helplessly to the heros shirt before cumming in his pants, completely forgetting they're high in the air as keigo came deep within him with a low groan "fuck yes, so good baby"

(Name) didn't process when he got home or when he got cleaned or hell when he was put in soft clothes and set into keigos nest.

He did process falling asleep in the love of his life's arms after doing something crazy and thrilling.

#kinktober 2022 #mha x male reader #mha x reader #bnha x male reader #bnha x reader #keigo x reader #keigo x male reader #hawks x male reader #hawks x reader #smut

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bellewintersroe · 1 year

Text

Band of Brothers headcanons <3

How they react when you, Easy’s nurse, find them hurt 🥺

Whereewwwwww just wanted to thank you all SO SO much for all the love and support! I love writing these headcannons so much, so to know you guys enjoy them is amazing! I appreciate you all so much.

Also if anybody has any requests for head cannons or scenarios let me know! Ship requests will be open again shortly.

Carwood Lipton:

Ahhhhhh you know when he almost takes a piece of shrapnel to the nuts in Carentan? That’s probably when you find him.

you both are kinda good friends at this point but there’s a little more between the two of you, and it’s very obvious.

but anyway you see his body get thrown backwards and fuck!!! You’re sprinting over, heart in your chest, luckily he’s alive when you and Tab fall down next to him.

lip let’s out a sigh of relief to see you there, an instant hand reaching out to land on yours, for comfort. It’s so subtle, and you’re making such a fuss over him you don’t notice at first.

Obviously when he thinks he’s blown a ball up, you look away, allowing him modesty when Floyd checks him.

when you get him into the jeep and he’s all patched up, you’re wiping his face clean, soothing him gently as he watches you through heavy eyelids, tired from the shot of morphine you’d injected.

I don’t think there would be many words spoken between the two of you, but Lip is so pleased you’re there with him, out of all the nurses he got lucky enough for you to treat him- plus, he’s got both his balls- thank god.

“Hey! It’s like winnin’ the lottery, he got the girl and he kept both his balls!”

“Yeah, yeah, thanks for pointing that out, Luz.”

Skip Muck:

Holy SHIT! He’s in complete shock when him and Penkala both climb out of the foxhole, somehow alive. A bomb landed near by, giving them a good shake up.

when he sees you he’s on hands and knees, crawling across the frozen floor, but he’s a little numb seeing as, you know, he did almost get hit by a bomb.

but anyway, you fall to your knees, beginning to cry in a mix of shock, horror and relief? Both of them are alive, your love Skip, is alive.

with the help of the other nurses and medics available you get the two to semi safety.

Skip can’t stop watching you, he’s fearful another bomb will go off and you’ll both be separated again.

Skips probably frightened for his life, it makes me sad because I don’t think you’d see him showing that level of fear that often.

poor guy probably just wants a good hug afterwards. I can imagine him resting his face against your chest, keeping his eyes shut to pretend he was somewhere much, much better than Bastogne with you.

Joe Liebgott:

“Oh my GOD, Joe, why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?!”

“Ahhh, it’s nothing, hun, y’know I’ll be fine.”

You’d probably have to fuss over him a great deal to get him sat down and cleaned up. Especially if he’s feeling stubborn.

even when you’re treating him he’s swatting your hands away saying he has to get back to the line. But I think showing him how serious you are will shut him up.

then he’d probably turn it into a game. Starts smirking and pulls your waist into him so he gets a face full of boobs. It’s been a while since you two have been semi alone, what can I say?

complains about the stitches hurt and suggests more than several ways of ‘making him feel better’.

probably chases after you out of the aid station with a half unzipped flyer, leaving you flustered and giggly, attempting to maintain a poker face.

Chuck Grant:

Big sad ok.

Obviously Chuck gets shot in the head veryyyy late into the game, the war in Germany is over, but everybody’s in a limbo waiting to be redeployed to the Pacific.

by this time you and Chuck are in a well established relationship, hell you’re even engaged to one another- I think this would be recent.

anyway, high off your recent engagement, this is the last thing the either of you expect.

so everybody’s kinda hush hush to tell you, but I think some how you’d overhear somebody accidentally spilling the horrific news in front of you.

I think we all know that would never go down too well. God, it’s devastating. You think you’ve lost him, but he’s such a fighter.

Chuck’s a little confused when he wakes up, he’d be in a lot of pain and probably slip in and out of consciousness for a while. But to have you there whenever he is somewhat awake means so much.

When he was fully awake, he’d remember glimpses of you, your hair, your voice and your ring. You’d be such a comfort for him.

You’d be there for him through his whole recovery, and although Chuck can be a little doubtful at times, he never once doubts your love for one another.

Shifty Powers:

You two have such a cute, little, blossoming romance when Shifty gets to go home. It’s all going perfect, it’s new and you’re both excited to see each other back in the States.

but when Shifty gets hurt unexpectedly, you bet you’re using all your points, racing to where he’s stationed, and staying with him as long as you think he needs.

he’d be in a lot of pain, but he’d be so relieved to see you, he’d still be smiling and blushing over you- and despite the fact he shouldn’t really move, he’s holding his hands out.

shocked when you start crying!

oh my god, he’d be so soft, he wouldn’t want you to cry and comforts you so gently.

he just wants you to be happy, so when he’s still recovering in Europe and the men are already at home, he’s insisting you go home, saying he feels guilty for keeping you stuck there.

but truthfully, you love being around him, it’s a rocky beginning to a relationship, but you fall in love there. When you both get home I feel like Shifty would have already wifed you up or he’s about to.

Floyd Talbert:

Smith accidentally stabs him, we all know the story. And you’re probably not staying to far away, already up and just wrapping up somebody’s arm or what not.

until you hear the cries of a medic, and the voice sounds eerily similar to Talbert’s. Fuck- you’re in shock when you realise it’s him!

tab kinda doesn’t want you to see him like that, so he’d deffo try to put on a brave face.

when he sees you crying in the jeep to the aid station he gets SO upset.

“no, no, no, my sweet girl, I’m fine.” Seriously he’s all up over you (as much as he can).

“See, baby? I can breathe, I can talk, it’s all cool.” Tries to act a little too brave and hurts himself again. It’s fine though, because when you’re calm enough to, you patch him up and you’re his own ‘personal nurse’.

seriously calls you Angel for the next hundred years after you looked after him.

when he feels better he BEGS you to stay around and give him the same amount of attention you did when he was first injured.

Cracks jokes and pokes your sides just to make you laugh.

for a hot minute he did think he was gonna die, but it’s fineeee, he’s okay and he’s back up and running in no time.

Dick Winters:

Nah this man is so cool, calm and collected. He’s more annoyed at HIMSELF for getting hit with a ricochet?

anyway, you’re probably busy patching up the wounded or tending to a casualty when it happened, by the time Winters is all seen to you’d probably only just be finishing. So he doesn’t bother telling you what’s happened, he figures it’s no emergency and doesn’t want to distract you.

but you know how rumours spread right? One person says something and then the next repeats something slightly distorted and so on.

so somehow you hear that he’s been SHOT and he’s possibly badly wounded, being moved out from the Aid station?!!!??

oh my GOD your heart stops. You’d search frantically, everywhere for him, and he’s nowhere to be seen wtf?!!

within 15 minutes or so you’re balling your eyes out, scurrying around until you spot a familiar figure in the distance.

Oops? He’s completely fine, already limping on his foot like a fool, he kinda laughs when you throw yourself into him, comforting you and telling him he’s literally ok.

stupid, army gossip. Winters would rub the back of your head (as long as you’re somewhere private lol) and ensure you’re okay over thinking that he was not ok.

Babe Heffron:

“Edward?! Where the hell are you?! Edward?!”

“Oh, Edward? You’re in trouble, Babe.” Babe’s scrambling to find you as soon as he hears the way you address him.

When he comes face to face to you outside the door you’re breathless and red in the cheeks, scanning over the bruise that was painfully near his eye.

“Ya hurt and ya didn’t come to me? I thought you’d killed yourself.” You’d let out a huge sigh of relief seeing he’s okay.

babe feels kinda guilty. News had spread that he was hurt and he should’ve gone to find you sooner, he just didn’t want to take your attention away from guys with worse off wounds.

“I’m sorry, y/n, I just didn’t wanna take ya time up? I’m ok though, see? Still in one piece for ya.”

“Jesus, Babe, ya scared me half to death.” After one playful shove, he knows you’re not seriously annoyed at him. But he is aware you wanna give him a little more attention, tending to that nasty cut of his.

secretly enjoys it. You’d sit on his lap and patch him up, maybe getting a little distracted half way through.

Gene Roe:

gene’s usually the one patching people up, not the one being patched up. So it’s a little weird for him to have the roles reversed.

Gene gets a couple pieces of shrapnel to the leg, so you insist on fixing him up. Now Gene had a hidden crush on you, he’s all red faced and stammering.

probably wouldn’t tell you if you’re accidentally hurting him. He’s too polite.

You’d probably feel his shy gaze and ahhhh it would make you so weak. I think even tho he is a little shy, Gene can be quite chatty?? Like I know he’s always portrayed as fairly quiet, but we do see this more playful side of him come out.

that’s how I feel like he’d be with you. And it’s sooo charming, he’s effortlessly cool and you’d probably fall straight in love with him there and then.

Lewis Nixon:

Okay I think it’s less of a scenario of him being hurt, and more like the possibility of him being dead- hear me out.

when the plane Lewis is in, ready to jump, is hit, you hear of the news wayyyy before Lewis is back to prove he’s safe.

so your kinda hidden relationship suddenly becomes very apparent when you’re uncontrollably sobbing, you’re a MESS.

Then he just rocks up and he’s like ‘hey what’s wrong with her?’ But he’s sooo grateful when you throw yourself in his arms. He didn’t realise how close to losing you he really was- well more like you losing him, but you get the jist.

god it makes Lewis realise just how scared to die he is, he wants to be with you forever, and when you’re laid in bed that night he’d hold you sooo close omg.

so angsty, but all turns out to be good in the end.

James ‘Moe’ Alley:

Okay so he’s not exactly with it when he’s wounded by like 37 shrapnel pieces. Even though he’s conscious, he’s spaced out in shock.

probably when he wakes up from the morphine shot and he’s recovering in the aid station, does he realise you’re there besides him, tears staining your face.

he’d notice immediately that you were upset and want to console you, tell him he’s fine, but he winces as soon as he tries to lift his body.

Omg sooo soft and gentle and reassuring, you would think YOU’RE the one that’s hurt. He so desperately doesn’t want you to worry over him, the emotional pain would stay with him for much longer than the physical would.

probably get a little sad when he’s taken away to the hospital and you can’t see each other for months. It feels like a lifetime, ugh the agony in his heart is too much, he just wants to be back with his girl!

Wayne ‘Skinny’ Sisk:

“I’m in heaven, Doc.” He’d sigh and gaze up to you with the sweetest eyes.

fml he’s so adorable, and you’re always back in Bastogne town / the field hospital, so you’d be able to visit him sooo often.

I think he’d be super reassured by your presence, the fact you’re taking time out of your day to visit him? Ah he’s in love.

you’d sit and play cards together, even if you only have 5 minutes.

oddly he’d enjoy your company? He didn't so much enjoy a tree exploding into his leg, but oddly he’s somewhat grateful because that’s what brought the two of you together.

would purposefully brush his hands over yours when you’re playing cards, it’s a small flirty gesture, but it’s cute.

#band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers headcanons #skinny sisk x reader #James moe alley x reader #moe alley x reader #lewis nixon x reader #gene roe x reader #eugene roe x reader #babe Heffron x reader #Dick winters x reader #floyd Talbert x reader #shifty powers x reader #chuck grant x reader #Joe liebgott x reader #skip muck x reader #carwood Lipton x reader

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gasolineghuleh · 9 months

Text

A Visitor

Some Mary porn for the lovely @vampyrolesbos as the winner of my fic giveaway!

Mary and you get the idea for some inspired roleplay after a horror flick. Afterwards, you receive a surprise visitor in the middle of the night.

cw: CNC, somnophilia, rough sex, ownership and domination talk, double safewords

It’s nights like this that makes you love Mary even more— the two of you are curled up on the couch together with yet another slasher flick playing on the television set in front of you. A scream rings out from the booming speaker system the two of you invested in and Mary chuckles underneath you, his bony chest moving lightly with the motion. Rain pours down outside, beating against the window in a violent pattern semi-reminiscent of a pounding heartbeat as the wind batters the panes.

“You comfortable, babe?” he asks finally, shifting a little bit underneath you and rearranging your arms gently. “Don’t want you goin’ numb or anything.”

“Yeah? Make it a bit too easy to take me, then?” you toss back, laughing and allowing him to move you to a more comfortable position on the couch, relieving some of the strain on your muscles from holding the position for so long.

“You know me so well, babe.” Mary’s voice is tired but still with an unmistakable tone of humor to it. The two of you often joke around with him “taking advantage” of you when you’re in a compromising position, but he hasn’t acted on it. Yet. Sure, there have been nights where the two of you set safewords to specifically be ignored, but it’s been a while since that happened. “Would you like that?” he asks suddenly, seemingly reading your mind.

“Well, yeah. I mean, it would be you. Taking me. You know how fuckin’ feral I get for you, babe.” You pause, really considering it for a moment. “Yeah. I would.” Mary nods to himself as his hand starts tracing a path down your upper arm. Mary only does that when he’s thinking something particularly hellacious, you know, but you refrain from asking him. Save the surprise for yourself, huh?

After the movie Mary’s phone pings, and he spends a few moments going back and forth in the group text with his band. He’s got to run to the store for cigarettes, and now he’s been invited out to a beer with “the guys”. Reassuring kisses that he’ll be home soon pepper your cheeks, and soon enough you’re alone in the small apartment the two of you share.

— — —

Laying on the bed later that evening, you find yourself scrolling through your phone aimlessly. Tiktoks fly by as you barely pay attention to them, most of your energy focused on staying awake. It’s been an hour or so since Mary left for the store and to meet up with some friends, and the television flickering quietly in the background of your field of vision isn’t the best at keeping you company. You sigh and open your messaging app, scrolling to Mary’s name and opening the conversation, already typing out a message to him.

“Come home, I’m bored and lonely.” You hit send and there’s a small woosh as the message delivers, and an almost immediate ping when he replies, almost as if he was holding his phone and waiting for you to message him. A small smile plays around your lips as you envision the scene— Mary sitting with his friends and nursing a beer, his phone safe under his left hand on the table as he waits to feel it buzz with your love-turned-text.

“Wuts the safe wrds?” the message reads, and you instantly sit up a little straighter on the bed, a curl of arousal already spreading down your spine, just tickling you into sub-interest. You know when he asks for two words he intends to blow past the first, a staple in your relationship that’s been talked to death and back.

“Red and pineapple,” you text back quickly. This time there’s no response, and you put your phone down onto the bed face up as you wait, watching the screen light up with other messages, easily ignored. Pings from other applications and notifications keep filtering through, but none of them catch your eye unless it pertains to Mary. Even still, there’s only so many Instagram notifications of his latest single that you can take, and you wind up losing that small bubble of hope for a response over time.

Eventually a minute turns into an hour, turns into two. Two hours bleeds into midnight, and you soon find yourself nodding off on top of the bed you share, no longer able to keep your eyes open as you wait for your boyfriend to come home. You know he'll likely wake you up in your favourite way, and the thought puts a smile on your face as you finally slip beneath the veil of slumber. It finds you fast, exhausted as you are from being pent up and horny all evening.

—

“Be quiet, or I’ll snap your pretty neck.”

Your eyes fly open as your brain surges uncomfortably into awareness, the blanket of sleep pulled sharply from you. There’s a hand over your mouth, and another hand fumbling under the covers for your underwear, sharp fingernails scrabbling at your skin in what feels like desperation. You squirm slightly, hardly daring to make a sound, not wanting to know if the threat was true or not.

Your mind reels, panic seeping into every corner. The menacing whisper had come from just above you, an unseen figure in the cloak of darkness. The phantom presence’s hands are strong and unyielding, and you can feel the sharp pressure of what you think might be a blade against your neck. It’s a sensation you’ll never forget, one that brings the threat to life with a chill running down your spine.

“Just listen to me, and no one has to get hurt.” The voice is unequivocally Mary’s but there's still that cold trickle of fear in your belly that leads directly down to your core. His sharp and somewhat ragged fingernails catch on the edge of your panties and finally pulls them free of your skin, pulling the silky material down your legs and throwing them away with haste over his shoulder. He pulls them off of you with such ferocity that you're certain that there will be fingernail marks on your skin later. The thought makes your cunt clench.

“What are you going to do to me?” you ask, another sharp curl of fear entwining around your spinal cord. He doesn't answer, instead opting to throw your legs wide with one shove of those broad shoulders that you love so much. Mary’s long finger slides through your folds, pressing against your entrance with a trained tease that has you squirming— almost too late, you remember your role to play. “No, stop!” you gasp, twisting now in an attempt to get away instead of further pleasure.

“What, s’your boyfriend in the other room?” Mary asks, and the accompanying eye roll is visible even in the dimness of your shared bedroom. He always plays this part well, and the cold indifference to your perceived suffering sends another thrill of arousal curling down to your toes. “And look, this cunt wants me.” Mary pulls his hand away from your pussy for a moment, sucking the evidence of your arousal off of his finger with an exaggerated moan. “Oh! But I should stay quiet, huh? Wouldn’t want that big, buff boyfriend to come and find me.”

“He’s bigger than you, and way more dangerous,” you say, inwardly laughing at his clear mental fumble.

“Baby girl, no one’s more dangerous than me.” Mary, seemingly finished with talk, rears back and grips your arms tightly, rolling you over underneath him until you’re flat on your stomach. One of his coarse, rough hands slides up your scalp to grab a bundle of your hair, pressing your face into the goose down pillows until your half-hearted pleas can’t be heard.

It’s only then that you hear the jangle of his belt being undone with one hand, and the tug of his zipper; the slight cursing as his fist tightens in your hair and his other hand pulls his cock free of his boxers. There’s the push of his slickened fingers swiping through your folds, gently prodding at your entrance and then the push as he lines his cock up and presses forward. You gasp at the sudden intrusion, his cock sliding into you to the hilt, slick as you are.

Mary’s fist tightens in your hair again as his other hand grips your shoulder, pulling you against him in time with his own hips, the sound of his thighs slapping against your ass the only thing audible in the darkened room, save for your pants and groans into the pillows. He sounds animalistic— growls and grunts fall from his lips with nearly every move he makes, and his hands control you in ways you’ve never felt him do before.

“Mare- fuck, Mare!” you groan into the pillows, your legs starting to shake as you try to hold yourself up for him. “Red!” The faux safe word falls from your hips as you think about repositioning, but a large part of you knows that he’ll ignore it unless you say the other safe word… and ignore it he does, blowing past your feigned safeword and instead dropping the ruse of the invader.

“Don’t make me stop, baby, you know how much I fuckin’ love this pussy.” True to his word, he keeps going, dropping your hair and running a hand down your back possessively. “Aren’t you my girl?” he says, leaning in over you as he fucks you, deep and slow. You feel the press of his lips against your shoulder, quickly replaced by his teeth as he bites you hard, his teeth deeply indenting the skin there— you know it’ll bruise, bright purple and dark yellow, and the thought goes directly to your clit.

You cum around his cock, not for the last time, your cunt clenching as you rock through it. The rubber band in your gut snaps and waves of pleasure course through you, dropping you back down into the pillows as you moan and shiver with it. Mary slows himself down, fucks you through it perfectly, his cock grinding into the spot you love slowly and deliberately. He knows your body well, and you trust him to give you the best orgasm possible.

“See? I know this pussy.” Mary pulls out slowly, giving you time to adjust. Once his cock falls free, he spanks your cunt with four fingers, rubbing your clit roughly and chuckling when you squirm in overstimulation — one of the things he insists is one of his favorites, watching you squirm and beg for the sensations to stop, for a reprieve from pleasure. Another moment of the torment and you whine, kicking your legs at him until he finally relents and pulls his hand away. “Tell me.”

“It’s yours, Mary,” you relent, pushing yourself up onto your forearms with shaking and trembling muscles, sweating from your orgasm and still breathing heavily. “Your pussy.”

“That’s what I thought.” He spanks your ass once, sharply, before bringing his hands to your hips and flipping you over onto your back. Your head jolts against the pillow and you gasp, disoriented and seeing black from the quick and unexpected movement. When your vision clears you finally see him above you— Mary Goore, his black hair shocked up with sweat, and his face flushed and red in the moonlight coming in through the windows. “Say it for me again, baby.”

“Your pussy,” you relent with a sigh, spreading your legs for him again as he situates himself between them.

“That’s fuckin right,” he murmurs quietly, almost to himself, as he looks down towards his cock, gripped tightly in one hand as he drags the head of his cock through your folds again. When you whimper with desire he surges forward, sliding back into you with an exhaled tone of pleasure, hands landing on either side of your face.

“Mary-” His cock cuts you off, pressing against the spot inside of you that makes you see stars, pressing and pressing and pressing and then suddenly you’re cumming again, full of him and so perfectly taken.

“Love you,” comes his only response as he fucks you through your second orgasm, his lips coming to rest on your neck as he presses kiss after kiss to the tender skin there. Mary flattens himself over you, thrusting against you slowly and languidly until he cums, his cock pulsing inside of you with every heartbeat. When he’s finished he lays there for a moment, the two of you breathing in tandem and allowing your heart rates to return to normal.

Finally you grumble and tap on his side, signaling him to roll off of you. He acquiesces with a grunt and a groan as he pushes himself up with one arm, rolling sideways to land beside you on his back. Almost instantly he reaches to the side for a pack of cigarettes that lay there, lighting one and passing it to you, which you wave away for the moment.

“That was fuckin’ good.” You hold up your fist and Mary taps it with his own, blowing out a long stream of smoke from his nostrils. “Where’d you get the idea to wake me up from?” Mary pulls another drag from the cigarette, the end of it flaring in time with his chuckle.

“Nosferatu.”

“Say ‘sike’. Seriously?” you laugh, pushing yourself up onto your side to look at him. He’s gorgeous like this, draped languidly on your bed like some sort of goth otherworldly creature, naked and pale and so effortlessly handsome.

“Seriously. Did you like it?” he asks, turning to meet your eyes. You smile and nod, moving a hand forward to tuck his hair out of his face before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to his still flushed cheek.

“Of course I did, it was you.”

“Good, cause I’m off duty for the night, that was way too much exertion.” Mary stretches his arms above his head and groans with the movement, his legs shaking when he ends the stretch. “I’m gonna finish this cigarette on the porch and then I’ll join you for sleep.” He stands and leans down, pecking a kiss on your forehead. “Get some sleep, I won’t wake you up this time.”

“Okay but— you could, if you wanted.” You wink at him and pull the covers up, settling back in. You know he won’t wake you again, but the thought of it still makes you tingle a little bit. When you open your eyes again he’s gone, the door to the porch open and a slight breeze coming through.

#mary goore #repugnant #mary goore x reader #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost bc #fanfiction #ghost bc fanfic #papa emeritus

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unseededtoast · 2 months

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Turtle Doves | Joel Miller

Part Seven

Chapter Directory

Series Summary: In which two broken souls connect so deeply, that if one should perish, the other would surely die of a broken heart. (slow burn, timeline changes. After TLOU1, before TLOU2, assumed knowledge of infected, uses elements from both show and game)

Series Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, and sexual content.

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted!

"When they return, I'll be waiting for them."

The eerie silence of the night amplifies every little noise. Joel managed to fall asleep about an hour ago, and each time he moves or readjusts, fear strikes me. For some reason, my mind is convinced that more infected are in here, when I know they're not. If they were, they would have made themselves known by now.

Looking back out of the window, I readjust the way I'm sitting because my legs have gone numb. My eyes burn from forcing myself to stay awake, but each time I close my eyes I'm haunted by images of the dead children. I tap my fingertips on the floor as I keep close eye on the horizon, looking for anything to signify life. My chest rises and falls dramatically as I sigh in frustration and disappointment.

Standing from the ground, I pace around the small corner I've confined myself to for Joel's comfort. I knew that he'd never let himself be lulled to sleep if I stayed close, he seems to be well guarded and generally untrusting. So I was surprised when I glanced over and saw his eyes closed and head leaned against the wall a few hours ago. Only the muffled sound of my boots hitting the floor can be heard, and I'm sure it's not loud enough to wake him.

My mind begins working through different scenarios once more. Like what is my next move if the killers don't start a fire tonight? How am I going to determine which way to go? I can't just guess at it, that would be a massive waste of time and would put me in unnecessary danger. My eyes drift back to the large windows on the wall, wishing and hoping that I'd finally see something. Each time I look and see nothing, a small part of my strong resolve dissolves.

Yawning, I find my fingers fiddling with my necklace, trying to keep myself inspired to stay here and see this through instead of feeding into my disappointment and going back to the QZ.

"Why don't we trade off?" Joel's voice startles me. My body jumps involuntarily at the unexpected sound and I look over to him, the moonlight illuminating half of his face. Once my heartbeat has settled to a semi-regular pace, I shake my head,

"No that's okay. You get more sleep, I'll be just fine." My voice is rough from staying silent for so long. Joel looks out the window.

"You haven't slept all night. You really think you can keep goin' like this?" His voice is deep and quiet, his dark eyes meet mine through the shadows. A part of me knows he's right, I can't keep functioning at my fullest capacity with limited sleep.

"I'm gonna have to." I say, my words betraying what I know is right. For some reason, I know I would feel bad if I took him up on his offer. This isn't his fight, he shouldn't have to stay awake for my sake. He shakes his head,

"You say that 'til you're face to face with death because your judgment is impaired and you make a simple mistake." It almost sounds like he's speaking from experience. I walk closer to him so that our voices can stay quiet, just in case there is something lurking around in here that we didn't see.

"But that won't be on you. And besides, this was my idea, I can't pass off my responsibility to you. You'll need the rest for your trip." I say, tucking my necklace back underneath my shirt. He stares at me for a long while, like he's trying to figure me out.

"Who are you after?" He asks. I shrug my shoulders,

"I don't know. Well, you heard what I said back at James' place, three kids were killed. They were all assaulted and mutilated. One of them died in my arms. And I had even checked that area not fifteen minutes earlier." My voice trails off as I remember the poor girl's last breaths and her blood smearing on my arms as she grasped at them for help. My gaze finds its way down to the ground and I blink away the tears.

"Who were those kids to you?" He asks, his voice sounding softer than it was a few minutes ago. I pick my eyes back up and stare straight ahead out at the city.

"I didn't know them. But nobody deserves that end, especially not kids." I say and turn my head to look at him. He just nods.

"Sleep. I'll look for them." He says and stands from his position on the ground. I shake my head and cross my arms, prepared to stand my ground on this one. I'm not sure why I'm so concerned with this stranger's wellbeing, but I can't find it in myself to be selfish and accept his offer.

"No it's oka-"

"No. Sleep. You'll need the energy." He doesn't let me finish my sentence before he turns his back on me and goes to look out the window.

I take his spot up against the wall, and lean my head back. If he's so insistent on it, then I guess I shouldn't fight it. He knows his capabilities and it's not my job to take care of him. My eyes close and the silence welcomes me to sleep quickly, maybe I needed this more than I thought.

"Hey." A shove on my shoulder wakes me and my eyes fly open. Quickly, I look around, not recognizing my surroundings. I find Joel's face above me, he's standing right beside me and must have nudged my shoulder with his leg.

"What?" I ask, suddenly alert and aware of where I am. I stand from my spot and follow him over to the window, where he presses a finger to the glass, pointing off in the distance. I follow his finger and see what I've been looking for all night. A plume of black smoke is rising to the sky.

My jaw sets tight as I watch the smoke dissipate in the air. The rising sun is visible on the horizon, I must have been out for a few hours. My arms cross in front of my chest and I make note of where it's coming from, and what streets I need to take to get there. If I leave now, there's a good chance I'll be able to reach them before they abandon their camp.

Turning away from Joel, I grab my backpack that I had put in my corner last night. I shrug it over my shoulders and tighten the straps so that the weight is evenly distributed. My boots feel like they might be getting a touch loose, so I bend down and tighten the laces. Once I'm sure I'm ready to leave, I take a centering breath and go over to Joel and extend a hand.

"Pleasure doing business with you." I say with a small smile, appreciating his willingness to stay with me. He looks down at my hand and back out the window.

"The smoke was to the west, the way I'm headed back home." Is all he says and I awkwardly drop my hand back down to my side. My eyebrows scrunch together, not entirely understanding what he's implying.

"You could go around, might add a mile or two to your trip though." I say, glancing back at the smoke plume. Joel takes a moment to look back out at the smoke before he nods his head and holds his hand out. I take it and give him the firmest handshake I can.

The two of us turn and make our way back down to the street, the sun quickly rising in the sky. If I can pull this off well, I might even be back home before sundown. Off in the distance, I can still see the smoke. Joel and I turn to one another before we part our ways.

"Stay safe out there." I say with a small smile, hoping that his trip is uninterrupted and goes well for him. He's probably got a family waiting for him, and they deserve to have him back. He gives me a curt nod,

"Good luck." Is all he says before we embark on our separate journeys.

I begin walking towards the smoke and try to get into a fighter's mindset. It's not only the people I have to worry about out here on the streets. I push every other thought out of my mind and try to get back into the headspace I had years ago when I had to fight the infected every day on patrols. They're quick and they're strong. So, I have to be quicker and smarter if I want to live. The same goes for dealing with the killers.

My stomach twists the closer I get to the smoke. I don't like that I'm essentially going in blind, who knows how many there are. It would be in my best interest to try and pull this off stealthily. If I can find some sort of vantage point before I get too close to scope out the camp that would be best. It would be really nice if I had a rifle with me, then I could find somewhere up high to camp out and take them out like that. But unfortunately, rifles are very difficult to find nowadays, even more so now that the arms trade has slowed in Boston.

I keep moving forward until I find myself close enough to the smoke where I can smell it. Taking a look around, I find an old store off to the right where I should be able to get a good angle on their camp. Swiftly and quietly, I make my way to the store with no interruptions and carefully step through the broken glass door. I'm careful to keep my footsteps level and close to the ground, so that the glass shards don't make too much noise.

The store looks like it had been ransacked years ago, and is now a mess of tipped shelves and useless products. As I make my way to the back of the store, I look at the discarded items, making sure there's nothing of use that I can grab. But it looks like all that remains are empty boxes and various electronics. Nothing that I can immediately use to my advantage. The back of the store houses the roof access point and I climb the ladder, pushing the entrance open with a small squeak.

Sunlight blinds me as I step out onto the roof and I quickly crouch down so that any wandering eyes won't be able to spot me. From my vantage point, I see a small camp. There's one tent set up and a smoldering fire in the center, billowing white smoke now that it has been put out. Squinting my eyes, I see one person standing around. But nobody else.

My blood runs cold, that has to be the killer. Or at least one of them. Maybe the other one is off patrolling the area or something. If I can go take that one out, then the other should be no problem. However, it all seems too simple, too easy. Something just doesn't feel right to me. But, maybe I'm just overthinking this and it really is going to be this simple.

I wait for a few more minutes before I leave the rooftop, just to be sure nobody else is going to show up. I don't hear anyone in the distance, so I have to guess that the coast is clear, or at least will be clear enough for me to get down there and take down the person I saw.

I stay crouched as I make my way to the camp, grabbing the curved blade out of my belt and holding it tightly in my hand. All of my focus is on staying quiet and making smart moves. My mouth goes dry as I approach the edge of the camp. Hiding behind a building, I peek out to make sure nobody else somehow showed up.

The same person is standing by their tent with their back facing me. It strikes me as odd, but maybe they got their hands on some pills and are too spaced out to know what's going on. Before I leave my cover behind the building, I close my eyes and say a silent prayer with shaky breaths.

My eyes open and I'm focused on one thing only. To kill the man that stands a few feet from me. I turn the corner and take calculated steps, avoiding debris on the ground. My breath is silent, but my heartbeat sounds incredibly loud. The man isn't turning around, he's standing oddly still and it sends a familiar panic through my body.

I freeze in my tracks as my boot steps on a rogue twig, probably meant to fuel the fire but never got used. Within the blink of an eye, the man turns around and it doesn't take me long to register that he's not alive, well, not humanly. The man's reanimated body screams out and runs toward me, hands outreached to grab me.

I dodge his swing and plunge my knife towards his head. The recently-turned man is fast, and my knife only catches a few inches of his throat. I don't have enough time to react to the missed slash before I'm tackled to the ground, the man's teeth inch closer and closer to my neck as I try to fight him off.

My panic somehow makes me more focused, and old maneuvers feel like muscle memory. I bring my knee up and hit the man, throwing off the equilibrium so I can get the upper hand. As he's thrown off balance, I use the momentum from my kick to bring my body above his, my hips straddling his torso. Without thinking, I raise my knife and bring it down into the man's head. His body goes limp and twitches as he dies once again.

Blood splatters my hands and forearms as I pull the knife from the man's skull. I use the man's green shirt to clean my blade and then I stand from the ground, looking down at the corpse. He looks recently turned, maybe a few hours old at this point. Turning around, I look for any more runners that may have been tipped off to the struggle, but find nothing except empty streets and silence.

Taking advantage of an empty camp, I start rummaging around for anything they left behind. I check the man's pockets first, finding nothing but an old cigarette. Next, I search the tent and find an old map shoved underneath the sleeping bag. Unfolding the map, I see several marks on it.

The Boston QZ is circled, and I see a few other cities with the same circle. Other places are marked with the Firefly symbol. Sprinkled throughout the country there are some areas marked with stars. One location is marked with a large 'T'. There's no indication of what these symbols mean, but I can deduce some things from common sense. I can only guess that the circles represent QZ areas and the Firefly symbol is where known Firefly outposts are; that much is fairly obvious. The T might represent where these people came from, but it's all the way out in Nebraska. As for the stars, I don't have the faintest idea.

I fold the map up and put it in my bag to study later once I'm not out in the open. The rest of the tent holds nothing of value to me and so I move out and check the fire. There are scraps of paper in there mixed with twigs. Reaching in, I grab the largest scraps I can find, and see that there's only a few legible words left on each. The one scrap says "eliminate" and the other says "immune".

Moving on and not dwelling on what those words might mean, I tear apart the rest of the camp to look for anything useful. Beside the fire there's a second sleeping bag and I reach my hand down in it, pulling out another piece of paper. These people love writing notes to one another it seems.

The words on the paper are a lot more useful than the scraps I found in the fire. I read it quickly and read it a second time, not believing what I'm seeing. The note is almost like an instruction guide. It tells whoever was here what their mission was. It looks like their mission was to hit all the QZ's in the northeastern part of the United States and kill children between the ages of thirteen and seventeen indiscriminately. It doesn't say why, but on the bottom of the paper the Firefly logo is drawn.

I put the paper in my bag along with the scraps and map. What do the Fireflies have to do with this? Going back to the man's body, I look for the telltale sign of the Fireflies, but see no pendant around the man's neck. But what I do find is the letter 'T' carved into the skin of his chest.

Making sure there's nothing else to find in the camp, I move on so that if someone does come by I'm not caught off guard. I return to the store rooftop to monitor the camp some more. If someone does come back, they'll need to be killed for their involvement as well. Nobody is going to be spared from this group if I can help it.

The sunlight begins fading, and it's becoming abundantly clear to me that nobody is coming back to this camp. Infected probably came by and they scrambled, leaving their friend to his undead fate.

Back on the move, I decide to go west. I know there's more of these people out here and if I'm right about the map, they might be going back to where they came from in Nebraska. And even if they aren't going there now, they will eventually. And when they return, I'll be waiting for them.

#joel miller #joel #joel tlou #joel miller tlou #joel miller x oc #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller the last of us #the last of us #tlou #pedro pascal

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theywhowriteandknowthings · 8 months

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Blood Money Chapter One: The Capo - A Reader x Dave York x Max Phillips fic - Vampire Mafia AU

General Warnings: 18+, as is the whole of my blog, I will mark anything specific but be aware this is predominantly a smutty blog that writes porn with plot. DNI if you are a minor. By reading further you have taken the responsibility to do so with the warnings I have given. Specific warnings: Reader is in captivity, chained up, a servant of a malicious vampire mob outfit, blood, gore, horror elements, existensial dread, thoughts of death and ending reader's life. Max Phillips is a warning in himself. Canon/horror trope-typical violence. I'm going back to tag lists so please let me know if you want to be added! Big thanks to @wannab-urs and @pascalispretty for beta-ing and proofing this one! And special thanks to @pastelnap and @patti7dc for being my muses on this one, even if I am so mad you made me start a new work with my WIP backlog as it is (I love you really thank you so much!!) Without further ado:

Summary: Stuck in a basement for over a year, fixing the books of one of the most ruthless Mafia outfits in New York City has no perks, only pain, misery and servitude. But when your masters are murdered by a rival clan, you wish for a swift death, but Max Phillips has other plans for you. [Ao3 Link] Masterlist Next Chapter->

Chapter One: The Capo

The clink of chains, the dripping of a leaking pipe. The combined smell of your own body odour, blood, and mould. The flicker of the too-bright fluorescent tube lighting burning your eyes. The cool air of the basement hits your bare skin, a pleasant distraction from a fever burning through you.

These were the only sensations you have known for over a year, but getting kidnapped by the vampire clan that runs this part of New York City renders such discomforts mundane. The fact you are still drawing breath is a blessing and a curse.

“Come on meat-sack, work time.” The vampire guarding the door snaps you out of your sleep-deprived haze. You look up to see Ren, a sadistic underling with a habit of trying to scare you enough to make you piss yourself. Although, that hasn’t happened in months. His jet-black hair is slicked back in a ponytail and his dark eyes devour you, his tongue snaking over his lips as he lingers on your exposed chest.

You sit at your desk, atop a faded leather office chair that creaks and wobbles from age. But it’s not like you could tell the Vampire Mafia that they needed better facilities for their staff. You flick through the disorganised mess of papers, receipts, shipment manifests and try your best to ignore him. But he saunters over to you, coming to hover over your shoulder.

“Shame Hiro’s going to fuck you up later, you’ve become so obedient.” Ren chuckles as he rattles your restraints. He snaps his fanged teeth against your neck, you’re almost sure the blunt ridges of his incisors brush your skin but you’re so desensitised now that you just nod. He wouldn’t risk puncturing your skin, even today. But you doubt you’d care even if he did.

“You’ve gotten boring anyway.” He grumbles at your lack of response and leaves, locking the secure door behind him as you sit in your concrete box. Your calloused, raw hands sift through the documents once more, but your mind is foggy and sluggish. You actually think you might be dying. You sip at the canteen of water chained to your desk – the metallic tang of contaminated water burns your throat – but it’s better than dying of thirst.

Your head pounds. You try to balance the manifest against the ledger in front of you but your vision blurs. Your body aches with cold numbness that spreads to your extremities like a spill of oil, slow, sluggish, suffocating. You’re falling asleep, face pressed against the desk when you hear it, the unmistakable rattle of semi-automatic weapons above you.

Your head perks up, something about the break in monotony appeals to that dim, flickering ember in your chest that wants to live. You know there’s no point trying to break free, you’ve spent the best part of a year trying to free yourself. So, you wait, skin buzzing with tension as you wait for whatever is coming your way.

Footsteps in the corridor beyond your prison door make your heart race. You can hear the blood rushing in your ears as the locking mechanism clicks and you hold your breath. The door swings open and the realisation hits you; who would even come and rescue you? The FBI? The Police? Fucking Columbo?

“Let’s see what Hiro’s got hidden away in here.”

A low rumbling voice floats through the door as you feel your stomach lurch. You try and cover your naked body with your free hand, palm splayed over your right breast, forearm draped over the other.

“Help, please!” You call out, desperation getting the better of you for fear that they would miss you and you’d end up stranded, starving to death in your concrete prison. The door swings wide and you feel the blood leave your cheeks as another, unfamiliar vampire darkens the doorway.

He’s tall and clean shaven with perfectly styled hair that sweeps over his brows. His dark eyes glimmer in the harsh tube lighting, they rake over your naked form with a deep, primal hunger.

His three-piece suit is tailored to perfection. Grey suit jacket and slacks snug enough to show off his lean body but loose enough to not hinder his movement. The red and black baroque waistcoat and pocket square ooze opulence. If there wasn’t a semi-automatic rifle in his one hand, and a bloodied knife in the other, you would probably think him dashing.

But the fangs that jut over his plush lips extinguish all hope of escape. They glimmer, almost luminous, in the harsh lighting and you sit down slowly, crumpling into the decrepit office chair.

“Just get it over with.”

The vampire cocks an eyebrow at you, baring his perfectly white teeth at you in amusement. He saunters over, weapons still clutched in his large hands. You lean your neck to the side, eyes closed, you can’t even bring yourself to cry. You just want it all to end.

You feel him hover over you, the smell of his floral cologne invading your senses as you try not to react. The less you seem meek the quicker it’ll all be. The chains clink and you feel the restraints on your right ankle and wrist pull taut.

“Poor little thing, naked, dirty…” The vampire mutters in your ear, he inhales pointedly against your hairline, “But not afraid? Why is that little lamb?”

You go rigid as you feel the chains jostle once more, then an audible crack as your restrains fall away from your limbs. You whimper involuntarily at the blissful relief that radiates from the abused flesh; you’ve not had your restraints off in so long. You hear the vampire hiss, a curse in Spanish leaving his lips before he barks orders to someone else in the room.

“Just kill me!” You wail as you open your eyes, you turn to your captor and try to push against him, goad him on, rile him up to just rip your throat out and get it over with. You pound meekly against his chest with little effect.

A warm, heavy jacket weighs your shoulders down and you look up to see a strange look on the vampire’s face. A mixture of curiosity and pity, which only serves to makes you angry. But the world lurches around you before you can form another thought. You fall forward, nose pressed against the vampire’s silk waistcoat, and you welcome the sweet release of death.

----

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Dave finally snaps as he paces behind his desk. Not for the first time, he’s glad for the hardwood flooring. He knows there would be a worn patch beneath his feet if his office was carpeted. Max is splayed out on the chaise lounge in the middle of the office, a smug smile causing his cheeks to dimple. His buttons popped open to display the gold chain around his neck.

“She’s useful. She’s been running those books for well over a year, judging by the sores on her, we could use her.” Max says with a shrug, eyeing his superior with such challenge that would spell death for any of the other Capos.

Dave falters at the comment, searching Max’s features for a hint of a joke, or even deception. But for once, he reads Max like a book; something about this human is special. And Dave intends to find out what it is.

“We’ve been a team for a very long time Max, don’t make me regret this.”

----

You cough violently as you jolt awake, your mouth is dry and your tongue like sandpaper. Your head swims as you try and take in the dark surroundings.

Gone is the smell of rot and decay. Instead, you find your face pressed into clean, soft sheets that smell so fresh it’s almost surreal. You blink sleep from your eyes and roll up into a sitting position, you gaze around the darkness with tired eyes. You spot two doors; the one is firmly shut to your left. The other is ajar but the lack of light prevents you from seeing where it leads.

You turn back to look at the nightstand: there’s a pitcher of water and a glass waiting for you with a small note tucked under the base, and a lamp with a pull cord. You close your eyes and turn it on, opening your eyes slowly to the newly illuminated room. The colour scheme is deep brown and white, minimalist, yet dripping with wealth.

There’s a closet with mirrored doors at the far end of the room, next to what you can now safely assume is an ensuite. The mirrors let you look at yourself for the first time in so long and it makes your stomach roll. You’re too far away to make out the details but the sight is horrifying. You’re forced to look away from the gaunt, emaciated image of yourself, instead looking anywhere else.

The light from the modest lamp spills out over deep brown wooden floor, you let your eyes roam away from the mirrors, up to high-vaulted ceilings and down to the thick blackout curtains which effectively block any and all light from the outside world.

Not underground.

You think absently to yourself as another cough erupts from your throat. You pull the note out and place it on your lap as you pick the pitcher up with both hands, not bothering to decant the untainted liquid. It tastes like nectar on your abused tongue.

You groan aloud as the water washes over your dry tongue, rehydrating your mouth like an old sponge. You feel better with every gulp, but you force yourself to stop. You know if you drink too quickly you’ll just make yourself sick. You instead pour a glass of water, putting the pitcher down on the nightstand before unfolding the note.

The door is unlocked, the vampire guarding your room will arrange a car to take you wherever you need, if you so wish to leave. Her name is Amalia, and she is tasked with looking after you.

I hope you stay. We could use someone like you on our side.

Max (The handsome vampire that saved your life)

Your brow furrows as you try to make sense of the whirlwind of events that led to this point. You’re not dead, nor are you chained up, yet the sense of imminent danger remains. It clings to you like wet clothing, dragging you down, chilling you to the bone.

You look down at your body, lifting the sheets to check for restraints, you notice you are wearing someone else’s clothes. A white dress shirt that smells of orange peel and cinnamon, and a pair of loose, grey, cotton sweatpants. Both articles of clothing are too big for you but there’s a strange sense of comfort wearing something not your own. Not that you’ve owned anything substantial for some time.

You force yourself out of bed and make for the closed door. You knock gently on it before speaking through it to your vampire guardian.

“Amalia?”

“Ah, you’re awake, excellent. Have you made a decision yet?” Her voice is gruff and coarse but there’s a warmth to the way she speaks, setting you a little more at ease.

“No, but I am starving and I need to wash. Can you get me something to eat?”

“Of course, what kind of thing do you want?”

“I don’t know.” You say softly, realising you haven’t eaten a hot meal in as long as you can remember.

“I’ll figure it out. Try not to get your bandages wet, Max will kill me if he has to redress them so soon.” The sound of Amalia’s footsteps heading away from the door sets something off in your brain, the instinct to flee hits you like a punch to the gut.

No matter what the note says, you know that trusting vampires was foolish and often deadly. You have the chance to flee, but to where? You don’t even know where you are; are you still in New York? Did they move you across state lines?

And what would you even do? You’re weak, malnourished, they’d catch you before you even leave the building.

You scold yourself internally as you feel the desire to run ebb away, leaving hopelessness in its wake. You trudge into the bathroom and strip out of the shirt and sweatpants. The ensuite is large, with a walk-in shower taking up much of the right wall. The floor is tiled, large blue squares with streaks of silver and white arcing through the tile like the veins in marble.

The walls are bright white, and all the light fixtures and faucets are sparkling gold. You wonder for a moment if it’s all real gold. You spot the sink and mirrored medicine cabinet which you immediately cover with a towel from the heated rack fixed to the wall next to it. You’re not ready to see yourself, not yet.

You open the medicine cabinet to find it stocked with expensive shampoo, conditioner, and soap, as well as generic deodorant sticks, toothbrushes, toothpaste, even mouthwash. You feel a strange twinge of gratitude as you note the effort put in to accommodate a non-vampire like this. But you can’t trust it, your brain automatically lurching to thoughts of being buttered up, coaxed into a false sense of security. You grab the things you need and close the cabinet.

You turn the shower on and angle your body so that your right arm and leg stay out of the spray. You wash as best you can, taking twice the normal time due to only having one functioning arm and leg. You work through the products you had selected, making sure to wash your hair thoroughly. You can’t even remember the last shower you took, let alone the last time you washed yourself so thoroughly.

You towel off before using some of the fancy moisturisers on your face and skin without thinking, a strange appeal to your life before as you fall so easily into a muscle memory routine. Tears spring from your eyes, tracking down your cheeks as you feel something you can’t put into words. Like a burst of anguish and elation all at the same time. Like a burning blade being quenched in oil, it hisses and spits, but something about it all feels right.

You pull on the sweatpants and button up the dress shirt, subconsciously nuzzling into the collar as you head back to the bed. You still don’t know what time it is, but you really don’t care; you’re hungry and tired, and once you’ve eaten your fill you plan to sleep for as long as your captors allow.

You sit on top of the sheets, knees pulled up to your chest as you try to occupy your thoughts with something other than the looming inevitability of the servitude to your new vampiric overlords.

Same shit, different choice of designer suit.

----

“Food’s ready. Do you want it in there or in the dining room?” Amalia’s gruff voice calls through the door and your head perks up from its position atop your knees as you wake from a daydream.

“I can come out?”

“Of course. Max told me he left you a letter, didn’t you read it?”

“Well, yeah,” You call back, your voice stronger than before, a little self-confidence bleeding through, “But I just assumed that was some sort of trick.”

“Smart, I’ll give you that, but Max and Mr York are men of their word.”

“I’ll have it out there.” You say, crawling off the bed with weak legs. Your bandages were bleeding through a little and you wince at the deep crimson spreading across the off-white mesh.

“Alright I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be just outside the far door, the one with the peephole, if you need me.” Amalia says and you wait until you hear the closing of a second door before you twist the doorknob, mustering up the courage to leave the modest sanctuary of your room.

The next room is dimly lit, enough light to see by but with an ambience to it that felt almost romantic. There are no windows in this room, in their stead are lavish paintings in gilded frames. The long dining table sits at the centre of the room and you want to spend some time exploring this new space, but the smell of food draws you deeper into the room.

Three paper bags and three cup drinks sit on placemats and coasters, protecting the rich mahogany of the tabletop from grease and condensation. Each bag has the contents scribbled in Sharpie somewhere on the exterior, the drinks the same.

Cheeseburger and Fries

Chicken shawarma (Dairy Free)

Vegan jackfruit loaded nachos (Gluten Free)

Once again, the care and attention to your wants and needs strikes you like a physical blow. None of this was necessary or even reasonable. You’re a meat-sack waiting for the inevitable chaining to a desk and eventual draining when your value diminishes. Yet here you were, with a choice of three meals, and three sodas, as if they want you to be comfortable.

You rip all the bags open, sampling from each as you go. You can’t remember a time when you had variety in your diet, let alone a warm meal. You barely touch the soda, the fizz harsh on your tongue after so long without it; but there’s almost nothing left of the take-out bags by the time you’re done.

You settle back against the dining chair and let out a soft noise, somewhere between a whine and a burp. You sit for a while, letting the post-food coma take over as you feel giddy. You’ve been feeding on pouches of brown or grey mush for too long – you know you’ve overeaten, but you don’t care.

Freedom tastes sweet.

You ignore the little voice in the back of your mind that tries to remind you that this isn’t freedom. You want to acknowledge the small win, savour the brief reprieve from crippling despair.

The sound of the apartment door opening has you jumping to your feet, backing away slowly from the table, subconsciously making for the bedroom. Your heart hammers in your chest, your limbs feel heavy and unresponsive as you try to fight the Pavlovian instinct to submit and drop to your knees and bow your head.

“Max, come on, she’s still fragile, I don’t think she wants to see anyone yet.” Amalia’s voice has lost all the warmth she had used with you, and you hear Max hiss at her denial.

“Amalia, get out of my way or I will move you, and I can’t promise you’ll still have all your limbs when I’m done.”

You’re frozen, glued to the spot as you wait for Max to force his way inside, your skin slick with sweat as you wring your hands in front of you. You hear Amalia make a huffing noise of dissent, not quite a sigh, but something similar in tone.

The door opens slowly and Max slips inside, closing it with a soft click, as if after his explosive conversation with Amalia he could pass inside undetected. You let out a shaky breath and watch as he turns to see you standing there, arms crossed over your chest.

“Ah, shit, you heard that then?” He says with a dazzling flash of his perfectly white teeth. It’s disarming, leaving you feeling more confident than you know you have any right to be.

“It’s hard to ignore the threat of dismemberment when it’s practically roared through the hall.” You say softly, immediately clamping your hands over your mouth, eyes wide and pleading as you watch Max stalk over to you.

He’s wearing the same pressed slacks as before, but gone is the suit jacket and waistcoat. The sleeves of his white dress shirt are rolled up, the material accentuates his firm biceps; and gold shirt garters sit just above his elbows, holding them in place. His shirt is open, revealing a gold chain resting against his tan skin and small tufts of chest hair. You shamefully feel a spark of attraction for the monster before you, but you can’t deny he’s attractive, vampire or not.

“Glad you’ve got some fire in you, was worried you’d be deathly boring.” Max says with a dramatic roll of his eyes before opening a door to your left, gesturing for you to follow.

You hesitate, unsure if you should follow, but ultimately you decide to do as you’re told. You follow Max through into a large study, the walls are lined with bookshelves – mostly non-fiction but you spot a few unmarked ledgers bound in leather with gilded lettering interspersed amongst them.

Max flops down on one of the cream sofas that surround a small black coffee table. Beyond you spy an expensive looking desk with an equally extravagant looking green leather chair. You take a seat opposite Max, tucking your bare feet underneath you as you try to stop fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

“So, you’re probably expecting some grand monologue about how you belong to our Clan now, how you are to serve us as a diligent little worker bee until you serve no further use and we dispose of you. About right?”

You nod curtly, your eyes roaming over the vampire so casually sprawled out like a cat before you. His rich brown eyes are almost kind, but there’s a stony edge to them that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

“Did you read my note?”

You give another nod and Max rolls his eyes and sighs, a deliberate action, seeing as vampires don’t breathe.

“I’m not in the business of being the only one talking, as much as I like the sound of my own voice. It gets tedious,” He pauses and sits up straight, resting his elbows on his knees before cradling his chin on top of his interlaced fingers, “Please, I meant it when I said we would let you go; for vampires, we’re actually pretty reasonable.”

“Sorry, I’m just not used to being allowed to speak.” You bow your head, averting his piercing gaze. He makes a small tsk sound and you feel the warmth of his fingers brush your jaw. You try not to shudder but it’s like fire is being breathed into your skin, vitality returning to you like sunshine after unending rain. His large hand cradles your face, and he coaxes you to look up at him. He’s leaning over the coffee table, his eyes soft and vulnerable as he tries to reassure you without words.

“If you choose to stay, you will never have to worry about being kept mute, nor caged. You will be part of our family, you have my word.” His voice is serious, fringed with emotion and a fragility you don’t understand.

“And if I choose to leave?”

“We will let you go, but you will be on your own. Hiro is in the wind, and he won’t stop until you’re back under his heel, or dead.” He says with a sympathetic twitch of his lips, not quite a smile, not quite a grimace.

“So I don’t really have a choice?”

“No, I guess not, but I know which option I would pick.” Max goes to move his hand from your face but you snatch his wrist without thinking, holding it against you. The tender touch of a monster is too sweet on your touch starved skin.

“But I mean it, we don’t intend to keep you prisoner, we’d like you to work for us, bookkeeping just like for Hiro, but without the chains and nudity.” Max doesn’t try to pull away and you drop your hand back into your lap. You lean into his touch, your mind softened by the promises of his silver tongue, your body mending at the tenderness of his fingers.

“Fine, I‘ll do it.”

“Excellent. Well we don’t expect you to start straight away, you’re, frankly,” He pauses as he pulls away to look you up and down, “A hot mess, and we want you healthy and fit before putting you to work.”

Max stands and holds his hand out to you and you wobble to your feet and take it as firmly as your weakened body can manage.

“Thank you.” You feel tears well up as you feel the rush of emotion coursing through you.

“No crying now, I don’t know how to deal with that shit,” Max scrunches his face up at you, like you’ve just dropped a dead rat at his feet.

“Noted.”

You feel a small laugh escape your lips as you shake your head in disbelief. Max takes you back to your room, hovering behind you but never touching you. Even if you secretly wish he would, he bids you a good morning, informing you that it’s just after four.

“Oh, and I’ll be by later to redress your bandages. Sleep well.”

The door clicks shut behind you and you take a shaky breath before climbing into bed, nestling amongst the soft sheets before closing your eyes.

Here goes nothing.

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