#creeper! reader

[deadghosy]

So I saw a lot of your work, and I love them. Keep it up, please. You're doing great... but I wanted to ask or well request something see if the requests were open or not so so sorry if they were but I saw your Enderman reader and I wanted to have a creeper reader and see how the hotel would react to them. gender neutral, please 🙏 .

I got these pictures off the internet, and I thought these would give you a good idea of what the reader would look like.

They could also have a humanoid form similar to this, but you could easily ignore this. I was just giving you examples or pictures you could go off of

OOOOH THE FIRST DESIGNS ARE CUTE! IMA DO THATTTT HEHHE💗💗🦆 I LOVE MINECRAFT

HAZBIN HOTEL X CREEPER! READER

prompt: Steve accidentally knocked you into an unknown portal.

Steve had a leash on you as you hiss softly smiling and nuzzling against his hand that has your leash. Steve put the leash around a fence trying to make a portal to the neither as you sit down smiling at your human. Steve uses his flint and steel as the portal is red which makes Steve back away. As he backs away, he accidentally knocks you forward into the portal.

“READER NOOOO!” Steve yelled as you hissed in a quick panic.

You hiss with a cry as you plop on your face on some blood. You couldn’t even get up as your arms were short. You were 90% of body and 10% of legs….

Soon you felt someone pick you up grumbling drunk. “What the fuck is this?” A rough voice says as they shake you making you hiss. The person turned you around to see your black eyes and full black mouth as you hiss at him. The drunkard laughs and takes you by the leash, oddly gently walking you as he blabbers about being lonely and selling his soul to some smiley asshole.

Next thing you know, you are in the arms of this cat demon who is drooling passed out drunk

And that’s how you got into the crew as you became the server who serves the residents of course.

Literally you walk with a severing tray on your head as you smile with a “pst” and go back to the bar.

I headcannon they all woke up to see a four legged fuzzy creature literally walking around and they were like “what the fuckkkkk…”

I can imagine you falling down the stairs into Angel and you both just fall on the floor like idiots

You know how cats go towards the creepers and the creepers run away? Yeah. Literally husk got oddly attached to you making Charlie make you part of his bar as you serve drinks out to residents.

You were literally walking, holding a tray in your mouth. Husk just stares at you with dilated eyes and purr. The crew noticed this but didn’t confront him. Well alastor did of course and he didn’t get an answer out of husk.

Imagine a cartoony moment where Angel scares you, making you literally poop out gun powder😭 Angel gave the same face to you when sir Pentious called him “son”

Alastor definitely thought you were a cannibal because of your black eyes. He brought you a dead sinner, like literally he thrown a small sinner in your face. And you just stood there confused with a “pst.” And walked forward to Alastor and purr against him.

Mission failed successfully, Alastor gained a furry child-

I headcannon creeper! Reader to have a tongue just like the reference and picture because Steve mostly heard the sounds from their mouth.

Charlie and vaggie tried to make you a room, but Lucifer couldn’t help but love your fluffiness as he picked you up and ran as the others chased him.

I headcannon even if husk was the one that took you in. You can sense he is a cat demon, mostly a cat in your eyes as you run away from him as husk just walks normal speed confused behind you.

“Where you goin'?” Husk asked as you cry out a hiss running away on your stubby cute legs.

It was basically giving, “WHY ARE YOU RUNNING?! WHY ARE YOU RUNNING!”

You ran into Lucifer’s room to hide from husk-

Lucifer likes to pick you up at times. Literally he knows when you get too nervous you explode things. So he has part of his room your calm down station with fluffy pillows 💗

“PST.” “Why yes you fluffy boy??? Uuh girl. I did make you a duck. And look!” Lucifer says turning around dramatically “it was a rubber duck, green with green fuzz with a red button on its head. “It also explodes!” Just as he said that, a tiny exposure hit his face making his face look smoky as he gags and cough.

One time a sinner had yelled at you for accidentally giving them the wrong drink, and immediately they were thrown out by husk who had a dark expression at you cowering at the yelling. He’s not taking disrespect towards you lightly.

I can see you just casually walking outside only to get mistaken for grass, and an old lady was trying to cut your fur off.

“Hey has anyone seen Reader?” Vaggie says as she looked at the crew who showed up for the meeting. The crew looked around confused until they heard a big ass boom. *VINE BOOM*

I headcannon you sometimes explode based on intense emotions, mostly fear or being scared.

The old lady didn’t survive the explosion.

I imagine creeper! Reader having behavior issues like a cat. Like there was a small ball and you hit it like a curios cat.

The Vee’s were confused to see you as you were shopping at the beer store. And you walked minding your business, catching vox’s attention as he stopped the two other Vee’s. Literally they were intrigued at how different you looked. They’ve seen sinners and demons before. But you are so different.

I imagine you getting so much attention for your weird creature look. Literally either people wanna skin you, or pet you.

Valentino probably seen you on Angel dust’s post that said “what a cutie, they can’t pick up the teddy bear” and Valentino was raising a brow at your appearance

Rosie would also think you are a cannibal as Alastor brought you to cannibal town to show you off. Rosie admires your affection towards her as you just purr and help her around.

Creeper! Reader is definitely a child by heart as they thrown up one time and went to a “trusted” adult to say, “pst.” Which translated to “mom/dad, I threw up.” 🥺

You once blowed up one side of the hotel over a nightmare 😭 Alastor sighed with a smile and fixed it

You actually once had Alastor scratch your back as you couldn’t reach it . Alastor wasnt sure how he wanted to touch you since he wasn’t prone to being touch himself. But he did for you.

Why do I headcannon for a creeper and creeper! Reader to blow fire….

IMAGINE THE ABSOLUTE FOREST AND HOUSE FIRES YOU MADE😨

Cherri bomb would literally be friends with you since you can explode. So yeah I can imagine the chaos you two cause around the pride ring

Velvette probably would get ahold of you to give you a cute cloak that goes around your “shoulders” . It’s just so cute that you would have a cloak.

LMAO STOP CAUSE WHAT IF VAGGIE HAD THROWN YOU IN THAT ONE EPISODE WHERE VAGGIE THROW THE CAST DOWN INTO A FIELD😭 YOU KILLED SO MUCH PEOPLE WITH YOUR BOOM

Meanwhile Steve is just standing there shocked at the lost name tag you had as he sighs pulling out another creeper egg. Only for the creeper to blow up in his face.

I can see him posting out a missing poster with him coughing out smoke.

I headcannon Lucifer made you a duck pool seat as you just float in the pool smiling like a child as you drink lemonade. You’re so Adorable 😭💗

I imagine reader to go through a lot of training to be a waiter as you just trip on one of your legs to serve a resident their drinks

Niffty likes petting your soft fuzzy paw..she literally rubs her face in your fur hypnotized in it.

I headcannon you to smell like gun powder and a soft scent of fresh air that makes anyone relax as you are mostly outside back where you came from.

You mostly pick things up with your mouth of course. So imagine how awkward it is trying to put on your waiter outfit in your room. 😭

Sir Pentious definitely steals gun powder from you by making you scared so you can drop the gun powder. And then he apologizes to you after almost getting a heart attack.

I can see a calm moment of you snuggling with the crew as your favorite hotel crew member hold you.

The egg boiz definitely nap against you as you sleep in your fluffy pillows that Lucifer got you

You blowed up a resident on accident cause they didn’t tell you that they were behind you before you could see who it was.

You like getting groomed by niffty as it reminded you of how Steve combed your fuzzy fur while you smiled relaxed.

Adam had picked you up as you followed Charlie behind her back since you wanted it do errands.

“The fuck is this shit?” Adam says as you hiss at it. “Did this shit just hiss at me?” Adam asked with an amusing smirk as he noogies your head

Adam would definitely know what you are cause I headcannon he goes to earth to see what games online they have 😭😭

I headcannon that you just shed around the hotel with your green fur. But who can complain when literally it’s just small pieces that smell like gun powder.

[coryosbaby]

Riding Darry’s tattoo <3

“Baby,” Darry breathes. His hands rest above his head per your request.

“Shut up, Dar,” you reply breathily. “‘M busy.”

He groans, watching the way your bare cunt lips leave a slick trail of arousal across his happy trail. You had asked for this when you had sleepily woken up, needy and craving the touch of your boyfriend. You had shaken him awake, whining about how wet you were. The sliver of skin that his shirt had revealed when it had ridden up looked oh so appetizing— his abs, the trail of hair leading down to the place you like most. The way his tattoo seemed to beg for a nice, tight pussy to rub on it. You couldn’t resist.

Darry bites his lower lip. His face is flushed a dusty pink.

“You’re killin’ me, sweetheart.”

You smile, scraping your nails against the flesh of his chest. He feels so perfect on your achy clit, your head tilting back in carnal pleasure.

“God,” you sigh, the words bordering on a whine. “You feel so good, baby.”

“Could make you feel even better with my hands,” he muses. His tongue probes at his bottom lip as he takes in the sight of your nightgown falling off of your shoulders, your breasts spilling out of the silky fabric. “You’re so beautiful. Fuckin’ gorgeous.”

You whimper, your pussy clamping down on nothing. You miss his cock, his fingers and tongue. But you know that you’ve started something you have to finish.

“Aww,” Darry coos, watching the way you seem to slick even more on him. “You like that, huh?”

“Dar,” you warn, though his voice makes your stomach tighten.

He disobeys one of your commands. His big hands move to your hips, squeezing the soft skin in between his fingers. He rocks you harder on him.

“Yeah, there you go,” he murmurs, eyes wide as he watches your mouth fall open. You let out a loud, desperate moan. “That’s my girl.”

“Feels so good..”

You cry on him, giving in and letting him take the lead. You bury your face into his shoulder as his hips thrust up against you.

“I know,” and then, “let’s get you to cum, yeah? Let’s get you there… ‘n then you’re gonna ride somethin’ other than my tattoo, angel.”

[littlenightma]

Hello. I hope this request is not strange. Can you write a Yandere Jeeper Creepers headcanon?

Yandere!Jeepers Creepers Headcanons (NSFW)

• Your scent was intoxicating and it called to him like a siren’s song. He drops his latest kill to the ground. He had to find the source of the delicious smell or he was going to go insane. As he searches, he is bombarded with an assemblage of differentiating scents, but none of them are yours. Where are you, sneaky human? He flaps his wings harder until he is nothing but an unrecognizable blur in the sky.

• And there you are, pinned beneath him, screaming and squirming. Talons dig into your skin. Muscles ripple beneath your hands as you futilely try to pry away. He trails his nose everywhere, sniffing and scanning, searching for something. You think, this is it. This thing is going to rip me to shreds. He finally comes to a stop between your legs. Ah, there it is. To your horror he buries his face there and inhales deeply and rises with a toothy grin. He is going to enjoy you.

• Unfortunately for you, Creepers mate for life, so unless something terrible happens and you die, you’re stuck with him forever. Mating lets him to bypass the 23 year hibernation cycle, too, so yeah, until you die, you belong to the Creeper.

• There’s no use in running. He can track you from miles away and will find you every time. Not to mention he will be very displeased and will rip whoever helps you apart. All those times he allowed you to leave the den for a few hours are long gone.

• Creeper doesn’t talk much — and it depends on if he has vocal cords on him at the time — but every now and again he calls you different pet names from little human, pretty pet, or a simple mate/pup because he senses how you like it. His main form of communication is through body language or vocalization. When he growls you know you’re in trouble or when he tenses and his ears perk, it means there is someone or something nearby and you are expected to hide until it’s safe to come out.

• You do most of the talking because of this. Whenever he brings home bodies to “work on”, he listens to you ramble about different things: the weather, politics, or the new tv show you’ve been watching. He doesn’t understand a lot of it like why humans feel the need to buy their food when there was a plenty of animals to be hunted or why there were some who refused to eat meat altogether, but it doesn’t matter to him as long as he gets to hear your voice.

• Very territorial. Does not like when males of any species get close to you. Human, feline, canine, it doesn’t matter, however humans can get you pregnant and if that were to happen, he’d have no choice but to kill the offspring. No mate of his was going to bear any children that didn’t belong to him.

• Will scent and mark you to let others know you are already claimed. If anyone wants to fight for the right to have you, they can certainly try, but you know what’s going to happen, right? It’s not going to end well for them.

• You know who is in charge here, don’t you? You humans deemed yourselves the apex predators, top of the food chain, but it’s certainly not him rolled onto his back and displaying his belly in a show of submission. Such a good little pet you are.

• You’re unprepared for when he knots you the first time. Your initial reaction is to move away, however the knot is connecting you to him and will not budge, causing pain. You have no choice but to lay there and allow it to lodge itself further inside you. It’s intense, the feeling of his knot invading you, stretching you more than his monstrous cock did. You can’t believe you’re being fucked like an animal in the literal sense and how it’s even remotely possible for your human body to be adjusting so well. Wasn’t your body supposed to instinctively push out anything foreign? So why was your body greedily sucking him in and why was it starting to feel so good? Oh…

• When you’re on your period, it sends him into a state of frenzy and he will not leave you alone. The combination of your blood mixed with your pheromones are begging him to breed you. While it is impossible for him to impregnate humans, you’re still going to be put on your hands and knees, ass up and ready so he can fuck you all night long.

• And when I say all night long — I mean it. There are no breaks, no time outs, no breathers for you to take. It’s just him pounding into you relentlessly until his knot forms then it’s rinse and repeat. It’s messy, it’s sticky, and the more you cry out, the harder he goes. If you reach behind and grab his hips, pulling him close because you’re needing more is exactly how he wants you; a pleading, blood-soaked, cock drunken mess. You will never have to worry about having cramps again because he will fuck them right out of you.

• Loves to play fight. One because he wants you to learn how to properly pounce and pin prey to the ground. The more you learn to give into your own primal instincts that humans have all but lost long ago and learn to protect yourself when he isn’t around, the less he has to worry. Two, because of the social aspect of it. He likes spending time with his human and enjoys when you try your best to get the upper hand. Sometimes he will let you win, but there’s no changing the dynamics here. He will always play the dominate role.

• Takes you on impromptu flying trips. At first you were too scared to open your eyes to even look at anything and he has to jostle you until you do. It’s scary to know you’re that high in the air, but the fear eventually gives way and you begin to enjoy the wind blowing in your face.

• On those rare occasions when the Creeper isn’t out and prowling for himself, he rests you on top of his chest and cocoons you within his wings, locking them tight. He hums an old tune while scratching your back with his claws and eventually you are lulled to sleep, dreaming of a winged creature who has turned your life upside down.

• But maybe not for the worst.

[conchabread]

We need more fanfics of this man. I just know he whimpers

[ravennaortiz]

Your Boyfriend is a Bitch Headcanon -Mayans Version

Summary: How the guys would react if they overheard some guy hitting on you and saying that your boyfriend is a bitch. Inspiration came from the song below.

Taglist: @keyweegirlie @hatersaremymotivators @meera10 @kikijackson-blog @im-just-a-mississippi-girl

A hint of mischief is in Coco's eyes as he turns to you after knocking the guy out who had went from telling you how beautiful you were to telling Coco he was a bitch and he could steal you away if he really wanted to.. "My bad ma" he states with a smile. You had been begging for a normal date night away from the clubhouse and brothers. As much as you loved them and the club sometimes it was nice to have a quiet dinner at a nice restaurant outside of town. You couldn't help the smile and laugh as you shook your head as you reached for his hand quickly moving to your car. "I can't take you anywhere. Always getting me in trouble" he continued as the sound of sirens could be heard in the distance.

"Oh, really? You think you have a chance of taking me?" inquired Angel his voice casual as he turned to the younger guy who had sat down at your table. The guy had been chatting you up since you had stepped into the packed clubhouse looking for your man. Not taking a single word you had said to heart as you told him to back off and that your boyfriend was not one to play with. You watched as the mans eyes widened as he took in Angel and his eyes flickered over the patches. Angel was an imposing man sitting down but when he stood up the guy took off. "Thought I was the bitch?" laughed Angel as he sat back down looking at you.

Short king Bishop oozes big dick, don't fuck with me energy. Which is why you are stunned into silence as well as Gilly and Angel at what the new prospect has just said to him. The air is tense as Bishop contemplates the young man who had just dared to say he could fuck you better than him. "I assume you only said this because you think my beautiful goddess of a wife is a club girl correct? " asked Bishop as he gently taps your hip. Once you have stood up off his lap he stands up and walks to the new prospect who has decided now to shut his mouth. "I'll help you out son. There is no correct answer" states Bishop as he grabs the guys arm and leads him out the door.

Manny is all slow blinks and tight smiles as he listens to the man next to him at the bar describe all the ways he would do you as they wait for EZ to get them beers. "Said she has a boyfriend, dumb bitch doesn't know what she's missing out on. He's obviously a winner since he left her alone." states the man as he nudges Manny who chuckles darkly. "Yeah, the mother of my four beautiful girls over there sure is missing out" he states before punching the guy in the face. "Also im her husband not her boyfriend" states Manny before making his way to you. "This is why I don't bring you out ma. Always got me acting up" joked Manny as he pulled you too him for a kiss.

Guero is all angry forehead press and fists the minute the guy grabs your arm to turn you too him. The two of you had been taking a break from dancing and wee making out in the back of the packed clubhouse. You had mentioned to Guero earlier that the guy had been hitting on you and said he could take your boyfriend in a fight when you mentioned you were not single. Guero had wanted to put his fist through the guys face then but you had been so amused he had pushed the idea down so that he could keep that smile on your face. Now though it was on. No one touched what was his.

The moment your sweet Teddy Bear said excuse me and stood up you knew the guy was done for. It never ceased to amaze you how many people thought it was fun to poke the grizzly bear of a man that was Gilly. You smiled as he blew you and your daughter who was cooing away in your arms kisses before grabbing the back of the guys neck and walking him out of the clubhouse. "Still getting guys in trouble, four days after giving birth" chuckled Coco, making you laugh, as he stood up. "I'll make sure he doesn't kill the kid"

Creeper is silent as he watches you and the guy go back and forth. You have just as much blood on your hands as he does, he knows you can handle yourself. He won't hesitate to step in though if you want him too. He patiently waits for your cue as he sips his beer, chuckling when the guy says he can do you better and asks what position you like. "Do you like having your ass fucked?" you inquire as you tap Creepers arm. "As her bitch of a boyfriend I like to watch her fuck guys in the ass" he states as he looks the guy up and down.

"Who's the bitch now?" growled Bottles as he stood over the guy he had just punched in the jaw much to the shock of everyone. The guy had been following you like a scenthound, not taking your rejection of an offer to dance or to sneak off to a more private area. Even when you stated your boyfriend was a Mayan he was undeterred, going so far as to push you into a wall saying your boyfriend must be a bitch if he wasn't with you. Pushing Guero out of the way as he congratulated Bottles you pulled him to you demanding he take you home to bed now.

EZ is willing to let the guy slide. He's drunk and clearly overcome by your beauty. Who wouldn't be? He could not blame the guy for coming over and hitting on you. He probably figured you two were just friends sitting here having a drink and a chat. Its an easy mistake if you are new like he was. The two of you shared a look and small chuckle when the guy said your boyfriend was probably a bitch. He was going to let hat slide too but when the guy angrily slapped your beer out of your hand.....letting anything slide was out the door.

[imagineredwood]

"So, what are you gonna do?"

Request: Creeper and reader imagine finding out she's pregnant after she left him and wanting her back

Pairing: Creeper Vargas x female reader

Warnings: Arguing, breakups, hidden pregnancy, crying, angst with no comfort at least in this part

Word count: 2.9K

A/N: I'll do a part two to this, I'm just sleepy and I want to take a nap but I wanted to get this out for yall first lol What would yall like to see? Groveling? Happy ending? Should she make him sweat? Should she just understand and forgive that tensions were high? Let me know💕

"Fuck."

You cursed as you held the positive pregnancy test in your trembling hand. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Not in the slightest. Life was already complicated and messy enough as it was. Things with the club were tense, the war against other charters of their own club creating an air of chaos that amplified day by day. Creep tried his best to soothe you. Take away the worry. Tell you that everything was going to be fine, you just had to wait it out. But it didn't feel that way. It seemed like every time you turned around, it was a shooting or a bombing, your nerves frazzled. It had caused a rift between the two of you. Him feeling like you nagged too much, you feeling like he only ever disregarded you. The two of you had fought significantly more than you had fucked recently and yet now here you were, already apprehensive of where the relationship would end up, now with a baby getting thrown into the mix. You'd been careful, at least you'd thought so. But luck wasn't on your side, it seemed.

Throwing down the pregnancy test into the trash, the fourth to be exact, you held your head in your hands as you sat atop the closed toilet lid. You had no idea how this was going to go. You’d mentioned kids before, sure, but you hadn’t talked about it extensively. You had no idea how he would feel about a baby right now, and all that uncertainty did was make you feel even worse. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you swallowed around a suddenly dry throat. You would have to sit down with him tonight and establish some boundaries. Make him see that he couldn’t just placate and then disregard you anymore. It wasn’t just about you two now. There was a third life involved, and you needed to know where his head was at. It was a talk that was a long time coming, and you hoped that it would go smoothly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Enough with this shit already. Fuck!”

Creepers voice was harsh as he cursed, exasperated with you.

“Every fuckin’ day it’s the same shit with you. I get home and it’s immediately gotta be a fuckin’ war, like I don’t deal with that shit in the clubhouse. Coming home is supposed to be relaxing. I should get home and feel happy to be here, grab a beer and just shoot the shit with you, watch some TV, cuddle, something! But no, I come home and it’s a fuckin’ interrogation every night. I can’t take this shit anymore!”

You sat at the table silent, eyes welled to the brim with tears that you begged not to fall. You stared at him, feeling helpless and hopeless. You hadn’t meant to start a fight. You were just trying to get him to see that you wanted him around more. That you missed him. That you worried for him. That you needed more from him. That you needed to know that you could count on him All you’d managed to do however, was start the millionth argument of the month. You kept your voice low, half to deescalate, half to stop yourself from crying.

“I’m just trying to get you to meet me half way. I know you’re stressed, and I know you guys are struggling, I know. I just…I need to know that you’ll try to be present more. For us.”

You caught yourself with the last word, but thankfully he didn’t realize, simply thinking you meant the relationship. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath, his own voice quieter when he spoke again.

"I just...I don’t know what you want from me. I can’t be out here taking you on dates every night, spending the whole weekend with you, going on getaways. I know you need me but so does the club. Hang out with the girls. Go shopping with them. Go to the movies with them. It doesn’t always need to be me. It can’t always be me. I can't balance you and the club in the way you expect me to. One keeps losing out and at the end of the day, the club comes first. I told you that in the beginning."

You stared at him blankly. Sure, he’d said that before. In the beginning before you had even really gotten serious. You had taken it as a warning that things might not move in the way that you were used to. But you were well past that, you thought. Your voice was shaky as you inquired.

“Do you still feel that way?”

He stared at you, not wanting to have to say it. But you needed to hear it. You would need to hear it directly from his mouth if you were going to have to leave; because you would leave. If he couldn’t find some way to compromise - to find it within himself not to volunteer for every single little thing and at least try to be there for you more, then there was no sense. You had put yourself through it for three years. You refused to put your child through it. If you were going to find the strength to leave, you needed to hear him say it.

“Feel what way?”

You blinked and finally managed to look at him, his chest aching at the tears in your eyes.

“That the club comes before me. That even with how much I’ve tried and begged and pleaded and supported and waited for things to get better…that you still love it more than me. More than us.”

There it was again. Us.

The Mayan groaned, scrubbing his hand over his face roughly, eyes tired and somewhat cold as they regarded you. He shrugged, tattooed arms held out to the sides.

“You knew what this was when you got with me. This is who I am. This is what you get.”

You stared at him, and finally you couldn’t hold the tears back any longer. They cascaded down your cheeks and you felt like you could feel your heart breaking within your chest. Because it was done. You’d asked him to make the choice, and now finally after trying to save your feelings all this time, he’d finally been honest and chosen.

And it wasn’t you.

You knew if you told him you were pregnant, it might’ve changed things. He had always bashed deadbeats. Said how important it was for kids to have their fathers around. But you also felt it pointless. If he would change, you knew for a fact it wasn’t for you. It was because of the baby. Even by giving him the gift of life, he didn’t find you important or worthy enough to change for. And who was to say that change would stick. He’d change for the moment, but would he bail out on appointments and sonograms? Would he miss the birth, too preoccupied with a deal? Miss birthdays and recitals just to carry out hits? That wouldn’t be fair. Not to you and not to the baby. You were a grown woman; you didn’t need him. Wanted him, sure. But you didn’t need him. The kid would, and it wouldn’t be fair to them. It was up to you to protect them. To give them the best life possible. And bringing them into the world with an absent father who picked and chose when to be present wasn’t something you were going to sentence your baby to. You knew firsthand how bad it felt to always come second. You wouldn’t do that to them.

So you simply nodded, standing up from your place on the sofa, tears blurring your vision.

“Well, I guess that settles that.”

You didn’t really have much else to say, at least nothing that would make a difference. You wanted to cry and scream and plead, but you’d done enough of that, and it hadn’t made much of a difference any other time. No. You would keep your dignity. With the back of your hand, you wiped away your tears and made your way to the bedroom, ignoring his voice as it spoke from behind you.

“So that’s it huh?”

You didn’t respond, only went into the closet and grabbed your duffel bag, tossing enough clothing for a few days into it. You had moved in with Neron after a year, the Mayan feeling that you would be safer if you lived with him. You had obliged, and now wished that you had kept your place. Even still, you would go out and find an apartment tomorrow if you could. It was late already, nearly one in the morning. You would stay in a hotel tonight and begin the search for a place to live tomorrow.

You were stuffing bras and panties into the bag when he entered the room silent as he stood behind you and watched for a little while unsure what to say.

“You don’t have to leave. You can stay. I’ll sleep on the couch. We can talk tomorrow when you’ve had time to calm down.”

You shook your head. He might have thought you were just being dramatic, but you knew this was what you had to do.

“Nothing to talk about. You’ve made it clear what your priorities are. I just have to come to terms with that, and I am. We’re not compatible. Better I find out now than…later.”

You force yourself to stop there, not wanting to say too much.

“OK, but it’s the middle of the night. You can’t just leave and…go where?”

“Hotel. Don’t worry about me. It doesn’t matter what you say, I’m not staying here.”

He grumbled and threw his hands up, his anger flaring.

“Whatever. Do what you want.”

“I am.”

You made your way into the bathroom and grabbed your toiletries, tossing them into your bag as well. Chargers, phone, keys, wallet. Everything you would need these next few days. You zipped up the bag and slung it over your shoulder, walking past him and out of the room and heading to the front door. He trailed after you, seeing that you were fully serious. Your throat and chest ached, but you refused to let him see you cry. You would wait until you pulled away.

Making your way to the front door, you slipped on your shoes, Creepers eyes on you.

“I’ll tell Steve to grab the rest of my stuff.”

That was all you gave him before you went out the front door, his eyes burning into the back of your head as you walked. He said nothing as he watched you, angry but knowing to just stay quiet. He would let you take your few days to calm down and then he would sit down and talk to you when you came back.

“Text me when you get there. So I know you’re safe.”

You didn’t respond and simply closed the driver-side door behind you, pulling out of the driveway, knowing you were going to block him for at least a week so you could begin healing. You needed to start fresh. Both for yourself and for your child.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“She’s serious.”

Steve winced and nodded as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yeah, man. She wants me to take it to that storage place. She’ll keep it there until…”

Creeper knew the rest of the sentence. He didn’t have to say it.

“Until she finds were she’s gonna live.”

Steve nodded, hating the tension. Creeper shrugged, feigning indifference, but inside his heart was aching. He let the prospect in, silently carrying some bins with him to pack up the rest of your things. He disappeared into the room and Creeper sat down on the soda, pulling out his phone. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting. It had been two days, and he hadn’t heard from you. He only knew you were ok because of Steve. You’d grown close to the prospect, trusted him. You saw him like a brother, and normally Creeper was thankful for it. Now he couldn’t help the pang of jealousy. He hadn’t heard anything from you, and he knew he was blocked based of his calls and messages being prevented from going through. He knew you had been upset about the way things had been, but he hadn’t thought you would actually leave him over it. He realized now that maybe he should have been more patient, more open to compromise. It had only been two days and already the house felt cold and bleak. You’d taken the warmth away with you.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there contemplating his actions and shortcomings, but it was long enough for Steve to be done, the last bin stacked up at the door. Creeper looked at him, anger that wasn’t directed at him.

“Look after her. Make sure she’s good. Let me know if anything happens.”

The Prospect nodded quickly, remembering that you had told him the exact opposite. He would help you. You were his friend after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Thank you, Steve.”

You wiped the sweat on your brow and so did the Prospect, the bins finally in your new bedroom. You were thankful for him. You wouldn’t have been able to get all of them into and out of the storage, then into the truck and into your new apartment if it weren’t for him. He’d been a godsend with this break up and you made sure to try and pay him handsomely for his help. He’d declined. So instead, you’d forced him to at least yet you pay him in fresh lemonade and soft pretzels, and he’d been inclined to concede. Now all had been brought in and you could finally start unpacking, thanks to him.

“I really appreciate you doing this more me, Steve. It means a lot. It wouldn’t taken me forever without your help. I would’ve had to get someone and I’m sure they would’ve taken all the money they could from me. I can’t thank you enough. This place will be good for us.”

The Prospect nodded, brows furrowed as he looked down at the floor.

“You keep saying ‘us’. Do you have a new boyfriend already?”

Your eyes widened, caught, but Steve interpreted your surprise as indignation. He began to backpedal immediately.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insinuate or anything. It’s none of my business anyway, I just noticed you said us a few times and I wondered if maybe you had found someone else and I didn’t want them to get upset that I was in here alone with you because you’re just my friend and I would never-“

“Steve.”

You silenced him with a hand and utterance of his name. You were already moved in and more or less set up. The unpacking you could do at your own pace, but the couch and bed were already assembled, the fridge on and stocked. You were good now. It didn’t matter if he found out.

“I’m pregnant.”

Steve’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, eyes bugging as he stared at you.

“And Creep just let you leave?”

You shook your head, eyes still on the prospect.

“He doesn’t know. I didn’t tell him.”

He nodded and looked like he could pass out. You felt bad and sighed, trying to ease him.

“You don’t have to keep it a secret. I wouldn’t put that on you. You don’t have to lie or hide things for me. I’m not trying to get you in trouble. I’m just telling you the truth. That’s why it was so important for you to help me with this and why I appreciate it so much. I needed to get back on my feet.”

He nodded, understanding, and looking a little less stressed now.

“It’s ok if you tell him. It won’t change anything.”

He nodded again and you smiled, pouring him another glass of lemonade for the road.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“She’s what?”

Creepers eyes were on fire as he stared at the prospect. Steve shifted uncomfortably under Creeper’s gaze, as well as the others who looked just as shocked.

“Y-yeah. She’s not too far along. Like two months or something, I think. I don’t really know.”

His voice was small as he spoke, everyone looking at Creep now.

“And she knew when she left.”

He wasn’t really asking, but Steve nodded anyway.

“She said she needed to get back on her feet. Make sure she had a placed that was safe so she could start over.”

Steve’s words were like knives, even though he knew the prospect wasn’t trying to hurt him. Hank stood and tossed an arm around his shoulders.

“You did good helping her. Let’s get a drink.”

He walked them both into the clubhouse, leaving Creep, Bishop, Angel, and EZ outside. They stared at their brother, no one talking for a while.

“So, what are you gonna do?”

Creeper stood there motionless, unable to answer Angel’s question. It was Bishop who answered for him.

“He’s gonna get it the fuck together and go get his woman back. He’s gonna apologize, say that he was a fuckin’ idiot, that he wasn’t thinking, and it was a mistake to let her go, crawl on his hands and knees if he has to, and show her that she can count on him. That they both can. Whether she takes him back or not.”

Bishop took a long drag from his cigarette, eyes staring off into the distance as he felt his heart clench as he thought about his own late child.

“He’s gonna make sure he owns up to his mistakes and spend time with her, so he can be there for his kid and watch them grow up.”

His eyes landed back on Creeper then, his gaze stern.

“That’s what he’s gonna do.”

General taglist

@piccasoe @ateliefloresdaprimavera @gemini0410 @woahitslucyylu @my-rosegold-soul @that-chick212 @everyhowlmarksthedead @glimmerglittergirl  @fanaticfangurl21 @encounterthepast  @svintsandghosts @starrynite7114   @destynelseclipsa  @queenbeered @iamthegraham @emoengelfurleben  @otomefromtheheart @rosieposie0624 @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @beeroses @weirdosandhopelessromantics @kola95 @black-repunzel99 @xonickibaby @cruzwalters @myakai13 @mrsstevenbuchananstark @lyly00 @kaystacks17 @cole-winchester  @alexxavicry  @savagemickey03  @fanfic-n-tabulous   @choochoo284 @xbloodyxangelx @carma-fanficaddict @gillysoldlady

Mayans MC taglist

@dazzledamazon​  @abunnykisses​ @briana-mishell24​  @wrcn9fvlcver​  @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @krysiewithak​  @appropriate-writers-name​  @blessedboo​  @megapeacelovemusic-blog​ @emoengelfurleben​ @blowmymbackout​ @abby-splace​ @kola95​ @black-repunzel99​ @redpoodlern​  @myakai13​

@cruzwalters​  @danimals1096 @po3ticb3auty​ @lyly00​ @im-just-a-mississippi-girl​  @angel-121​ @fanfic-n-tabulous​ @90sisthenew80s​ @lovelytricia @librarian1002

[bisexual-horror-fan]

Then just for fun you take your tongue and run it over my lip | And gotta love the way she does it for the hell of it | We're in positions that most people only say they know | Rub it right up, against my body | You got your hand on a landmine, ready to blow |But the devil can hear you when you say... | C'mon and get up (get up), move your body |Use your body, lose control. |Use my body, make it yours (So get up) | We're gonna light this room on fire | Ya, you and I will burn it up tonight (so get up) | The two of us will fuel this fire | No way in hell we're slowing down tonight

And! Belly button shots with that slutty ass tattoo.

Smut? Implication? Sex dancing?. Edging? That's up to you. I am here to just proved a muse not a direct request.

Well, well, well, Lorde! Thank you so much for giving me the in for write for Darry Jenner for the first time! I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it! And now this is officially the last fic of my 20s! A weird and fun smutty fic of an underrated character, how on brand! Let’s get into it, yeah?

—

Rating. Explicit. Length. 3.1K. Darry Jenner X GN! Reader. No Pronouns Or Parts Specified. Warnings: Teasing. Alcohol Consumption. Partying. Body Shots. Mild But Playful Slut-Shaming (Darry Is The Slut Here.). Making Out. Grinding. Hand Job. Blow Job. Throat Fucking. Edging. Sex. Riding. Banter. Reader Is Kinda An Asshole But It’s Fun.

—

“Who’s The Real Slut Here?”

—

It’s Friday night, you are in college and so naturally you are out at a party, decently full of people, music playing at a healthy volume and your classmates drinking and making merry, excited the school week was done. You were of course among them, with the same idea in mind, of cutting loose and forgetting your stress, and you were well on your way to do that. You’d been here for around an hour, hadn’t really run into anyone you knew super well, but that was fine, you were enjoying milling and mingling. 

Currently making your way to the living room, looking around distractedly at the goings-on, people dancing, mingling, talking, in the early stages of hooking up, Hell, who knows, maybe you’ll find someone to grind up against yourself. 

That train of thought is quickly abandoned as another body collides into yours, shoulder to shoulder, and sharp contact with a small jolt of pain sends your body turning expectedly and unfortunately makes you drop your drink. You were drinking out of the natural party classic, a red solo cup, so broken glass wasn’t a concern, but the sticky and sweet mix of fruit juice, carbonation and alcohol spills over your shoes all the same. 

Eyes drop with a disgusted sound, your shoes are fairly waterproof so your socks getting wet isn’t a concern, but your shoes are going to be tacky and gross, you just know it. You feel annoyance and anger bubbling until you hear the frantic and rushed, “Oh my God, I am so sorry.” 

You had a response on your tongue, ready to snark out something close to, “Yeah you better be!” with a healthy amount of venom, but when your eyes raise to look at your assaulter in the face that quickly proves to be a difficult task. You become distracted by dark brown eyes and soft looking black hair, his face tinged with worry and what looks like genuine remorse, pink lips parted and hands up, it makes what was meant to be a bitchy barb melt into, “Yeah, you’re okay, I mean, it’s okay.” 

“God, no it’s not, looks like that was full-” You cut him off with a smile, anger was forgotten, “Really, it’s okay.”

“At least let me get you another drink? For my conscience if nothing else.” He is very sweet, reads as honest, earnest. You agree and say, “Yes, okay, I can let you do that.” 

He finally smiled, slow and more beautiful than it had any right to be. You and he make your way to the kitchen and once in there and in front of the drink station you both notice that there are no cups. He says, “I think there are some on the top shelf of this cupboard, hold on-”

“How do you know that?” You ask, and he says as he opens the doors, “Oh, my friend lives here.”

He reaches up to the aforementioned top shelf, rooting around for the cups, and you are just watching him, eyes move down his body and in the process of him stretching. His shirt rides up and you of course stare at the newly revealed skin, what you find there makes you gasp before laughing out, “Woah! Slut alert!”

He pulls the cups down, jaw dropped open as he says, “Excuse me?”

You respond enthusiastically with a point to him as you say, “You! I just realized, you’re a slut.”

The cupboard doors are closed, an eyebrow raised as he asks, “What makes you say that?”

You take the two strides forward to be within touching range, and you reach out, fingers hook in the hem of his shirt, and you yank it up and point to his tattoo with your other hand. “This! Look at this shit, guys who aren’t sluts do not have little whoreish rose tattoos like this!”

“Christ! You’re being awfully forward for someone I just met.” He smacks your hand away and smoothed his shirt back down into place, and you laugh again, “I notice you aren’t disagreeing with my assertion.”

He argues with you as the package of new red solo cups was torn open and one was retrieved, “Didn’t think I had to! I think it’s obvious I’m not a slut.”

You watch as he plucks up one cup and sets it down ready to finally make you that drink, but you aren’t concerned with that anymore, instead you asked, “Oh yeah? Wanna bet?”

“Seriously?” Was his deadpanned reply. 

“Yeah, let's ask ten people, if more than five agree with me that you are a total tart based off your tattoo, I win, and if less than five agree that you are not a slut, you win, and I’ll drop it.” You explained quickly, a wide grin overtaking your face.

He looks considering for a moment before asking, “What do you want if you win?”

You push his shoulder playfully as you ask, “C’mon, where’s the fun in that if I tell you upfront?”

A roll of his eyes as he crosses his arms over his chest, the small smile on his face as well as his tone tattles on the fact he is amused however, attempt to fix your drink abandoned, consumed in the current ridiculous conversation, “If you don’t tell me I won’t do it.”

You groan and kick the kitchen island you were next to, “Fine. Spoilsport. How about…” You look him over and then grin lewdly as the thought comes to you like lightning,, “A body shot.”

He laughs with a shake of his head, eyes drop to the floor as he shrugs and says, “Fine. You’re on.”

You shake on it, eye contact reestablished, and the game was on. 

Your hand on his wrist, you start to lead him around the party. The routine went as follows, you walk up to a person, ask if they are down to participate in settling a bet you were both in, if they said yes, you would be showing him off. You would lift his shirt excitedly, or he would be reluctantly tugging it up himself to show it off until ten people later you were saying positively giddy, “Seven out of ten college party goers agree! You are a slut.”

He sighs and asks quietly, “What shot are you doing off me?”

To you, there was only one answer possible.

“The classic naturally. Tequila.” 

Soon enough he is splayed across a table that is normally used for beer pong, currently in between games, and you are setting him up. He’d taken his shirt off before laying down, you rubbed the wedge of lime on him, the space of his belly button now slick and salt sprinkled, your other hand gripping the bottle of tequila you’d already taken the cap off of, you tip it and poured the liquid into the hollow of his belly button. He shivers and squirms slightly, some spills, overflows, and you chide him, “Fuck, stay still!” 

Before he can retort, you’d taken that same lime wedge and placed it in his mouth, rind side down towards him, flesh of the fruit upturned. The bottle is set down and you make your move.

You lean down, one hand on his jean clad thigh, higher than it needs to be, fingers curling over the curve of his thigh, your mouth is close enough. Your lips latch, and you drink from him, tongue dips in, and you eagerly lap up the burning alcohol before you swirl along the perimeter and over that same tattoo that set this bet in motion. Next your tongue turns upwards, passing over warm skin and his firm toned stomach, catching the salt you sprinkled before. 

Afterwards you are pulling up and with one smooth stride, fingers trailing up his bare torso as you go, your other hand descends onto his forehead. Your fingers run through dark hair, a and you leaned down, you give him a ghost of a kiss as you steal the lime wedge, you linger longer than necessary, if he wanted and responded fast enough he could have kissed you, but he was too shocked. You are pulling back up, your fingers come up too, and you bite down, sucking the acidic delight back. Clean rind is pulled away, and you look down at him, stomach wet and lips shiny, staring up at you, and you say, “I realize something.” 

He sounds just a little out of breath as he asks, “What’s that?” 

“I never got your name.”

He realizes that’s true. A small cock of his head as he tells you,  “Darry. My name is Darry.”

You toss the rind of the lime wedge aside, and you tell compliment him, “Well, Darry, I have got to say, at least you are a man of your word. You have follow through.”

He sighs and holds one hand out, “Gee thanks, wanna help me up?”

You do so, gripping his hand and pulling him to sit up and get off the table. He goes to put his shirt back on, but grimaces, “I feel all sticky now.”

Taking in the sight of the hardwood and sturdy table that was covered in a million rings from never having seen a single coaster but cups upon cups of drinks and who knows how many spills your expression mimics his, “Yeah, that table was not clean, c’mon, let’s go to the bathroom, I’ll help you clean up.”

Soon you are standing in the ensuite bathroom attached to the master bedroom. You aren’t supposed to be in here, it is supposed to be off limits, but you’ve always been a rule breaker, haven’t you?

You are cleaning him up, warm and damp wash cloth running over his back, and you say, “So why don’t you think you’re a slut?”

“Cuz I’m not one?”

“Are you sure? Letting me parade you around the party like I did, letting me do a body shot off you like that, I mean fuck, dude, I tongue fucked your belly button before you told me your name. Seems pretty whore like to me.” You teased playfully, and he laughs shocked, seemingly speechless. 

You asked, “What do you think?”

He takes a deep breath before, sighing out, “I think no matter what I say, you are gonna think I’m a whore.”

You finish cleaning him and are wringing out the cloth into the sink and shrug, “Maybe, maybe not.” He catches your eyes in the mirror. He is staring. You stare back. 

You turn and there is this tension. You break it by dropping the cloth and flicking some water onto his still bare chest, a challenging raise of your eyebrows asking, “What are you gonna do about it?”

And you get what you want. 

He wants to put you in your place, wants to shut you up, but mostly you think, he just wants to, and so he makes the first move. His hands on your arms, pulling you closer and taking that single step, and he kisses you. 

The make out is speedy. 

A brief thought flits through your mind, that you were getting just want you wanted out of tonight, fun, relaxation, a few good drinks and getting to hook up with someone. You are feeling bold, and you think he wants it, you test the waters, you feel him up, hands over bare and exposed skin, and he doesn’t shy away, no he leans in closer, eager.

You suppress a smile as you deepen the kiss, one hand is on the back of his neck, the other running over the expanse of his chest and one leg hooks over his hip as you grind on him. He gets hard pretty fucking quick. 

The speed is enough to make his head spin. Two minutes ago, he had his hand in your underwear, touching you, but you made him stop and were now on your knees, pants open and pulling him out. You work him over, hand locked onto his shaft, and you stroke, firm grip, a squeeze whenever you get to the head, a twist of your wrist on the down stroke of his shaft and a steady move back upwards to repeat the process all over again. 

He is leaned against the counter when you lean in, your tongue flicking over the tip, and that has him moaning, head back. The view is fantastic, pants and underwear low on his hips, shirt still off, hands gripping the counter edge so hard you can see the flex of tendons in his forearms, it encourages you to wrap your lips around his head. You suck indulgently and keep your hand in motion, he tastes very fucking good, salt and tang, delicious and when you feel him start to throb in your palm you pull back. His head drops, chin tucked into his neck, to look down at you. His expression is crestfallen, he looks sad and confused as he asks, “Why’d you stop?”

You remain on your knees, tongue licking up the pre-cum on your fingertips before you say, “Because I want you to say it.”

More confusion as he asks, “What?”

Pressing him, you say, “I want you to say it, admit it.”

“Admit what?” Asked Darry, still not getting what you were driving at.

You smile and say it as if it were as simple as two plus fucking two, “That you are a whore. Nothing more than a needy slut. Say it and I’ll keep going.”

He looks shocked again. His mouth opens and closes, but he can’t say much more than, “I-...” before you start again, he moans anew, how cute is he? How stupid and gullible? This will be fun. 

You work quickly, hand and mouth serving to wreck him in short order. He is moaning, panting, hips rocking forward, and you can tell, nearly there, he is close, and you stop, he curses, and you tease once more, singsonging out, “You aren’t finishing until you say it.” 

“I’m not gonna-” 

Well, that won’t do. You don’t let him even finish saying that he isn’t going to do it. Your hands on his hips you lean in, and you make one swift move and you deep throat him, take him to the root, and he lets off the best sound he has all night, a choked off moan with shattered breathing, utterly close to ruin. He looks so pretty like this. He had run his fingers through his hair, bit his bottom lip so hard trying to stay quiet you think it might bruise and bleed, his chest and neck is flush, he is unreasonably hard and leaking pre-cum at a steady rate. 

You are relentless. You work him perfectly, swallow around him, suck, lick and more until he is about to burst. “Please, please, fuck, don’t stop, s’ good-”

He sounds fantastic when he begs, you feel yourself in need and aching. You almost want to give in, you are sure he will moan with the utmost gratitude, will sound hot enough that it might get you halfway there on its own without you ever having to touch yourself.

He is still begging, “So close, God, yes, ah-”  He sounds so fucking hot, amazing, he is all but whining, but he didn’t say the magic words you wanted and so, you then pull off of him. Remove his thick cock from your throat and mouth, the wet strings of saliva break apart, the leash that bound you and he no more. You stand up and pull away, are ready to fully leave the bathroom, fixing yourself up in the mirror, and he grips your wrist. He is painfully hard, dripping, breathing is laboured as he asks, “Please, fuck, please don’t leave me like this?”

You give him a nearly apologetic smile, one thumb wipes some stray spit from your chin as you prompt him, “Then just say it, Darry. You say it and admit it, and I’ll get you off.”

A pause, a beat, and he finally relents. 

He says it shockingly smooth and confident, maintaining eye contact with you, he states as if he truly believes it, “I’m a whore, okay? Is that what you want to hear? I’m a fucking slut.” 

“There you go. Good boy.” You step away and your hand locks onto the doorknob, you open it and asked him over your shoulder, “Wanna go dance?” 

He sounds shocked and calls after you, “Wait! I-I thought if I said it that you’d-”

You turn, eyes meet again, and you tell him, “Oh I’m going to take care of that-” And a nod down to his still raging erection, “-but I was thinking we can go take a break, let you calm down a bit and then maybe you’ll be able to fuck me without busting in two strokes. No offence, by the way, I didn’t make it easy on you, I can make an experienced guy bust in two minutes with some serious effort.”

That is a lot to take in all at once. His mouth opens, another unsure sound before as he asks, “You want to-”

You fill in the blank. “Fuck you Darry. I want to ride you into oblivion.”

He was so caught up he hadn’t noticed you were holding his shirt, you threw it at him and said, “Now c’mon you still owe me that drink from earlier too.” 

He caught the shirt and was putting it back on as he asks, “The one you hoovered off my body doesn’t count?”

You lean against the door as you watch him stuffing himself back into his jeans and closing his pants off his still obvious erection as you say, “Not even close.” 

He got you that drink, you did dance and later on in on top of the coats in a guest bedroom you kept your promise. Only afterwards, the sound of him whimpering while he came still ringing in your ears while you remain perched on top of him, heaving and sweat slick, coming down from your own orgasm, you tease him and say, “Was that so hard?”

He huffed out with a weak and satisfied smile, “No, suppose not, it was pretty great.”

You hum out, “I’ll say. And hey, Darry, you know this is all in good fun, right?”

He hums unconvinced and shifts under you, and you say, “No really, think about it Darry. I fucked you without ever telling you my name, I’m a slut too.”

The laugh he let out is the second-best sound you’d heard all night, when he sucks down a deep breath and the laughter subsides, he tells you warmly, “You fucking suck.”

“You know it.” 

[ficnation]

Lying in Blood - EZ Reyes x Reader

Summary: When your husband dies you're left to mourn the life you were supposed to have. But when guilt consumes the killer, a chance at redemption opens as he steps forward to raise the child as his own.

Word count: 2,6k+

Pairing: Ezekiel ‘EZ’ Reyes x Female! Reader; Past!Neron ‘Creeper’ Vargas x Reader

Warnings: SPOILERS for Mayans MC season 5, mayans mc typical warnings, pregnancy, pure angst

A/n: EZ might be a little OOC but who cares. Enjoy the heartbreak and please reblog if you liked it!

Main Masterlist

Mayans MC Masterlist

The moment you walk into the clubhouse, the smell of smoke and leather assaults your senses. The atmosphere is smoky, the air heavy with the cigarette fog swallowing the entire room. In the background, the clicking of pool balls and the murmur of conversations can be heard, the smell and environment already making you feel a little dizzy as the door opens and shuts behind you.

You force yourself to move forward as the members of the MC raise their glasses and nod in welcome to your arrival. You greet them with a warm smile like always, then look around the room in search of your beloved’s face. You can almost see him talking with his friends in the crowd, an unopened beer bottle in his tattooed hand.

But he’s not there. It’s just your imagination playing tricks on you.

Bishop must’ve noticed the way your eyes wander around the room in search of a ghost. He stands up from his sitting place, grabs your arm, and pulls you toward one of the couches. You slump down against it, sighing heavily.

“Querida,” he starts, sitting down beside you, his arm outstretched, beckoning you closer.

You shake your head to will the dark thoughts away, then relax against his side, your cheek finding rest on his shoulder.

“Bishop,” you greet him back with a smile.

“You’ve popped,” the man notices with a chuckle, looking down at the roundness of your protruding stomach.

“Oh, definitely. I woke up one day, looked in the mirror, and thought she doubled in there,” you mumble with a huff, but there’s a lightness to your voice.

Bishop admires your strength—how you can still see the world in colors even when your life is falling apart. It baffles him. He wishes he had that kind of strength himself.

He smiles at you, pulling you just a little bit closer. “She?” he repeats, raising his brow.

You smile brightly at him, caressing the bump with gentle, loving strokes. “Yeah, it’s a little girl.”

But your smile falters ever so lightly when you think about the fact that Neron still doesn’t know that the doctors were wrong and you were going to have a little daughter instead of a son. He won’t even be there when you give birth. He’ll still be behind bars, far away from your baby girl.

Bishop notices the change in your expression and grasps your hand in his, squeezing delicately. “He’s proud of you, you know that. We’re all proud of you.”

You can only nod in response, blinking away the tears that started forming in your eyes. You weren’t as strong as they all wanted you to be. You were just about to become a mom—a single mom because your husband won’t be there for most of the baby’s early years. You’ll be lucky if he gets out when she’s a teenager.

“Yeah, just wish his child was more important than the club,” you whisper under your breath, quickly regretting your words. But Bishop looks at you with understanding, no ounce of anger on his face. “Well, I actually came here looking for EZ. Is he around?”

“He’s not around. But he should be back soon. Do you wanna wait for him?” he asks, kissing the side of your forehead. “I can get you some water and keep you company.”

You stay with him, conversing to kill time as you wait for the club’s president to turn up. The older man keeps you occupied, talking a little bit about everything—how long until the baby comes, if you need help setting up the nursery, is your money situation looking okay—Bishop asks about everything in hopes the MC can make your life a little bit easier.

An hour or two passes before Ezekiel walks into the clubhouse. He looks around the room and doesn’t expect to see you there. Your presence startles him.

His eyes stare intently as you talk with Bishop, one of your hands mindlessly caressing your protruding stomach, waiting for the baby to kick. The other man hovers his hand close, ready for you to guide it so he can feel the little kick.

EZ feels the guilt—it comes up his throat and makes him nauseous. You’ve been friends for so long, and you don’t even know just how bad of a friend he was.

He ordered the murder of your husband. He took away the father of your baby—the man you loved with your whole being. He took his life and didn’t even give a second thought to how it would affect you—how much it would ruin your life.

The baby in your stomach starts kicking, so you take Bishop’s hand and press it against it. Ezekiel still stares, but he’s too far gone in his thoughts to register what’s happening.

“She’s kicking.” Your smile is bright, and it gives him a tiny bit of hope that Neron’s death won’t make you miserable for the rest of your life.

He forces his legs to move forward, swallowing the want to throw up all over the wooden floor. With a forced nervous smile, he reaches the couch.

“Is she?” the words tumble out of his mouth before he can stop them.

You sit up straighter, surprised by his sudden appearance. The smile you give him is innocent—unknowing.

“Hi, EZ.”

He returns it, but it’s weak and awkward, and he’s sure you can feel just how out of place he felt in his own clubhouse.

“Hi.”

Bishop senses the sudden shift in the air. He gets up and presses a kiss to your cheek, his beard ticklish on your skin. He regards the younger man with suspicious eyes. “I’ll leave you to it,” he says finally as he leaves you with the club’s president, heading towards the exit of the building.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” you notice, patting the couch where Bishop once sat to beckon Ezekiel to take his place.

The man scratches the back of his head awkwardly. “Yeah… I was busy with the—” he’s lost in his own words as he gestures vaguely to the clubhouse, “the thing.”

You raise your eyebrow at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “Oh, definitely,” you joke, “the thing always requires attention.”

He laughs at your words, but it has a forced quality to it. The joke isn’t that funny. You know it, and he knows it too, but you wave it off, thinking he didn’t want to make the conversation more uncomfortable than it already was by giving you the details.

“Yeah.” He sighs deeply. “We’ve got it under control, though,” he continues, and you respond with a nod, your eyes not quite meeting his.

“Have you heard anything from Neron?”

So that’s what you came here to ask—EZ thinks. It was logical. You barely needed the MC’s help, preferring to get stuff done on your own, mainly because you didn’t want to add to their problems. You always held your head high.

“He’s been quiet for a while now,” Ezekiel tenses in his seat as the words leave your mouth.

He can almost feel the crickets playing a symphony in his head. He doesn’t know what to say or do, so he opts for a simple lie—he is getting better at them with every passing day. “No, I haven’t heard anything.”

“Damn it.” Your sigh clenches his heart painfully. “Those cops are probably harassing him again.”

“Probably,” he agrees with you, scratching his chin for a second as he glances at your face. “You’ve heard nothing at all?”

“Nothing. He doesn’t call anymore.” The tone of your voice changes, and he can feel the heartbreak—the agony that those words render.

EZ takes a deep breath and forces a smile. “He’ll call. I’m sure he will.” A fucking liar; that’s what he is.

“I hope so. We’re so close to the birth date. I wanted him to know that.”

He doesn’t know how to reply, so he gives your hand a gentle squeeze. He was always good at lying, but why was it so hard to lie to you?

He tries to smile more warmly—look more warmly at you, but all you can see in his eyes is pity. It drives you insane.

“EZ, is there something you’re not telling me?” your voice screams suspicion. He starts to get nervous.

“No, of course not.” He looks at you hard, hoping you’ll believe his lie. It takes a moment for you to process what you see and hear before the suspicious glint falters and falls.

“Oh, okay.” you sigh in sadness. You have a feeling he knows something, but you’re not willing to push it. “He was supposed to choose the name.”

Another gentle squeeze of your hand. “He will come through. Don’t worry.”

You believe him. “You’re right. I’m probably just overthinking.”

EZ nods his head in agreement. “You’re just stressing yourself out; it’s not worth it.” There’s a pause as he kisses your temple, then speaks again, changing the topic slightly, “How have you been doing? Everything going alright with the pregnancy?”

“Yeah, we’re doing good. The nausea went away.” His still didn’t. “Now I’m just running to the bathroom every three minutes. Girl makes me wanna piss so bad.” You let out a chuckle—such a beautiful and peaceful sound. EZ feels like he could record it and play it over and over again before he falls asleep.

“That’s good… and exhausting.” He’s starting to feel more at ease again. You seem to be distracted and not noticing how oddly nervous he’s been acting, or even if you did see, you let him have the upper hand.

“It is exhausting. But we’re gonna get through it. For Neron.”

He nods in agreement. “For Neron.”

Such a beautiful betrayal.

The next time you see EZ, a few days have passed. The whole MC knows about Neron’s death, but not you—not yet. He lets you live in a state of not knowing just for a few more minutes before he knocks on your door and gives you the information that will ruin your life. Oh, wait, he did that—he ruined it by choosing to protect himself, get rid of the snitch. Snitches end up in ditches—they were right.

He raises his fist, presses the buzzer, and he can almost hear the heavy pats of your feet as you rush toward the door. You open it and greet him with a smile. You’ve looked through the Judas beforehand—smart girl.

“EZ?” That carefree smile falters as you notice the seriousness decorating his face. Your hand grips the doorknob tighter, knuckles turning pale.

EZ sighs and hangs his head. “You need to sit down.”

“What the fuck happened?” you ask, but EZ doesn’t respond.

He turns you around, closing the door before gently pushing you towards the living room and the couch in the middle. You listen to him and sit down, waiting for him to speak. Your leg bounces up and down in worry. The dark thoughts swirling in your head make you want to crawl out of your skin.

EZ cuts straight to the point. He knows you’d only get furious if he tried to tread around the issue.

“Neron’s dead,” he says simply—as if to just get the words out of his mouth. They leave a foul taste on his tongue. He’s not even looking at you because he knows already how badly he fucked up. He can hear your heart breaking into a million pieces as your brain struggles to register that information.

When it finally hits you, you gasp trembly.

“No. No, he’s not,” you try to deny his words, shaking your head furiously. Tears are already building up in your eyes, and they’re falling down in waterfalls down your cheeks before EZ can reach to wipe them away.

“I’m so fucking sorry. It’s my fault.” He sits beside you and takes your hand, raising it to his lips. He leaves a kiss on every single tip of your fingers. “I killed him. It’s all my fucking fault.”

The sobs wreck through your body like a tsunami, and you drown beneath their intensity as you cradle your bump. You don’t even hear him. You refuse to hear him.

EZ wraps his arms around your shoulders and pulls you into his embrace, his hand cradling the back of your head as he pushes it to rest on his chest. He can’t look at you so broken—so destroyed.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

His other palm rubs your back up and down in a motion that is supposed to be soothing, but it doesn’t do shit to make it hurt less. You let him comfort you, giving into his embrace as you weep and clutch the back of his kutte in tight fists.

EZ sits that way with you for a while, rubbing your back and keeping you close. He doesn’t speak, only offers his presence and affection as comfort. He knows if he opens his mouth again, he’ll admit to what he’s done—this time for real.

“How am I supposed to go on?” You sob into his chest, your whole body trembling.

EZ just holds you tighter, his lips pressed to the crown of your head. “One day at a time.”

“I’m supposed to raise our daughter on my own? That’s so fucking cruel. Why did the world take him away from me?” your words are almost muffled as you get them out through the tears and sobs.

He looks down at you, his face etched with guilt. He’s glad your head is pressed to his chest and you can’t see it. You’d put the puzzle pieces together faster than he could mutter a single word.

He rubs his thumb back and forth between your shoulder blades. “I don’t know. But you’re strong. I know you’re strong enough to get through this.”

He puts on a facade before placing a hand under your chin and lifting it so you can look him in the eye. “I know you are.”

“No, Ezekiel, I’m not. I can’t do this,” you argue, shaking your head furiously. “I want him back,” you cry out, and it breaks his heart even more. It was his fault. He did this to you.

“I know. I know.” EZ says this over and over again, rubbing circles on your back.

He stays the night, cradling you in his arms as you sob and scream. And then he stays another night and another day keeping you company and helping with daily tasks. You don’t even realize that weeks have passed, and he’s still there when you wake up and when you go to sleep.

He’s there holding your hand when your little girl is born and when she says her first word. He never left, taking on the role of being a dad figure for your child. It felt wrong, but you never stopped him, either.

You didn’t stop him when one night his lips found peace pressed against yours and when he rolled on top of you, giving you pleasure you haven’t felt for a long while. You didn’t stop him when he moved in and became a constant presence in your baby’s life. Before you even knew it, she was calling him ‘papa.’ It made your heart clench painfully.

EZ took the opportunity and treated it as his only chance at redemption. He wanted to give you the life you wanted to have with the man he took away from you.

Sometimes the guilt was too much, and he had to leave for a few days to get it back under control. But he always came back.

He was good at lying, after all—lying with his hands covered in blood. Such a beautiful betrayal.

[whinesandwhimpers]

ghost as the creeper from jeepers creepers and when he smells your fear the only thing he wants from you is your pussy

[bjtch-craft]

"You're into dudes?"

Darry Jenner x Male! Reader

SFW!!♡

☆ Summary: After a laundry mix-up, [Name] meets a boy named Darry, whom he quickly catches feelings for, and in return for the mixup, Darry invites the boy to a frat party.

☆ Request: Yes or No

☆ Word count: 1,835

☆ Genre: Fluff☆♡

☆ Warnings: None! (At least I don't think so.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[Name] waltzed down the compacted hall of his dorm holding a basket of laundry he was supposed to pick up about two hours ago. He’d ran out of his class the minute it was over and ran into the building's basement in fear his clothes would smell like mildew and/or begin to mold. Luckily, someone had tossed all of his shit in the dryer.

A discman was clipped into his belt and a pair of headphones were draped around his head blasting some song his roommate had burned onto the disc. He bobbed his head to the beat, opened the door to his dorm, and tossed the basket on the floor taking off his Discman and headphones he tossed them onto the table that sat in the corner of the small room. He then grabbed the basket and began to sort through them.

“Huh… I don’t remember owning a yellow ringer” he thought out loud.

Several items in the basket looked extremely unfamiliar… wait no not just a couple, but every item looked unfamiliar.

“Oh, god these aren't mine!”

He dumped the contaminants of the basket onto the floor and looked through them, sorting through pink jockey shorts, jeans, and…

“Pink boxers” [Name] giggled.

He held them in his hand and flipped the waistband inside out.

“Darius… do I know Darius? They probably have my shit!”

[Name] got up and made his way over to his phone that lay on the desk. He flipped it open and punched in his roommate's number. It rang for a second or two until he answered.

“What’s up?”

“Hey um, do you know a Darius in this building? Our clothes got mixed up and I found his name on some of them!”

“I think so? I’m pretty sure there’s a boy down the hall by that name. His door has that dry-erase board.”

“Thanks, dude!”

[Name] put the clothes back into the basket and made his way out the door down the hall until he found the door his roommate had described. Balancing the basket in one hand, he knocked on the door, and the teeter tottered on his feet, waiting for the door to open.

“Who is it?”

“Hey I think our laundry got mixed up” [Name] called back.

The door opened slowly revealing the person behind the voice.

“I asked who it was, '' he said, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“I’m [Name] I live down the hall from you and I took your clothes by accident!”

The boy looked behind his shoulder before stepping into the room and pointing at the basket that sat in the middle of his dorm.

“Is this yours then?”

[Name] hesitated before stepping into the room, walking toward the basket, and kneeling before it.

“Yeah, this is my stuff!”

“Good! Um, my name's Darry, by the way,” Darry called as he dragged his basket into the room.

“Well, I’m sorry for the mixup.”

“Uh, no worries dude… oh shit I hung up a couple of your clothes in the closet.”

[Name] sat the basket down and walked towards the grey metal cabinet that the college had called a fucking closet. Darry walked into the room and stood back as [Name] stood on his tip toes and pulled the shirts off the hanger. Darry couldn’t help but peek at [Name] not in a creepy way (at least not in his eyes) but innocently he was you know just looking at him he had no ill intent behind the stare.

He watched as the hem of his shirt lifted, revealing a small bit of skin his eyes traveled lower from his back to his…

“Hey um, are you doing anything this weekend?” Darry asked, fixing his hair with his hands.

Name walked toward the basket and dumped his shirts in before looking at Darry.

“No, I don’t think so. Why?”

“Well, there’s a party this weekend and as a thank-you gift for returning my clothes I thought I could invite you!”

[Name] shifted his weight on his feet ``Yeah I think I can make it!'

He picked up his basket and began walking out the door “Cute jockey shorts by the way pink is so your color!”

Darry stood there, his face turning a light pink out of embarrassment as [Name's] giggle echoed throughout the hall as he walked away.

The days turned to night, and the nights turned to day, and eventually, the night of the dumbass frat party had appeared. Darry and [Name] had been talking to each other over the past couple of days, leading up to the party, and had slowly gotten closer.

The two boys walked up the steps that led into the frat house that surely would reek of sweat, musk, weed, and beer. As they walked up the steps, [Name] looked at one of the brothers who was slumped over in a chair next to the door and passed out drunk.

“Jesus, didn’t the party start an hour ago?” [Name] questioned?

“Pre-gaming.”

“A little too hard.”

They walked into the building, which for sure held many regrets and secrets. Darry and [Name] pushed and shoved through people as they entered the ground floor and looked around.

“Do you want a drink?” Darry asked, scratching the nape of his neck.

[Name] nodded his head, and Darry told him to wait there as he headed off to look for the drinks. [Name] looked around, staring at all the buzzed people who were either dancing to the music or screaming over it.

[Name] took this second of lonesomeness to himself and thought about Darry. He had barely known him for less than a week, and he had already developed feelings for the boy.

Darry walked through the frat and pushed himself into a crowded kitchen that had already been mostly trashed. Beer bottles littered the counter tops as well as red solo cups, and the smell of weed hung over the room like a thick fog. Darry made his way toward an ice chest, flipped it open, pulled out two bottles, and began walking back.

“Darry?”

Darry turned around and saw his sister walking towards him, her hands placed on her hips.

“Hey, sis! I um gotta go!” Darry said as he tried to move quickly through the mob of people.

Trish quickly caught up to him, grabbed him by his sleeve, and pulled him back into the kitchen.

“I thought you weren’t into the parting scene? Especially because you live off campus. And who invited you” Darry questioned.

“Connections,” Trish responded. “Who’s the other drink for Dar?”

“A friend. I met him a couple of days ago.”

“Aww, you have a little boyfriend, Darry?” Trish teased.

Darry stood there silent, his face starting to flush as his sister's jaw dropped.

“Oh. My. God! Are you guys like fu-”

“No! No! Not my boyfriend. I don't like dudes… I think?”

Trish shifted her weight on her feet, examining her younger brother.

“You’re into dudes?”

“I don’t know! He is cute, but he's got me all confused!”

“Can I meet him?”

“No. And anyways he’s waiting for me so… bye.”

Darry turned around and pushed back into the sea of people, Trish looking at him with a confused look. Darry entered where he had left [Name] and looked around for a second in fear that the boy got up and left.

But no. [Name] sat on the bottom step of the staircase that led up to the second floor, his chin, in his palm as he looked at the floor. Darry rushed toward him and plopped down next to him.

“Where’d you go? I was starting to miss you.”

“Sorry I ran into my sister, and she - never mind here. I don’t know what you like, so I grabbed the first thing I saw.”

Darry handed the glass bottle to the boy and smiled at him unknowingly giving [Name] a certain feeling in his gut.

“Oh shit do you need a bottle opener?”

[Name] shook his head, lifted his shirt, and used his belt buckle to remove the bottle cap. [Name] let out a small chuckle and smiled at Darry as he handed him his bottle, and he did the same and handed the bottle back to Darry.

“Cheers,” Darry asked, holding the bottle out.

“Cheers!”

Clink! After a few drinks (more than a few, Like way more.) Darry and [Name] were fucked. The two boys stumbled down the steps bumping into each other, their arms around each other's shoulders.

“H-heyy Dar” [Name] asked, slurring each word.

“Yeah?”

“D-do- Hic! Do you want to stay the night in my dorm? My roommate's gone, and I don’t want to be alone… and drunk!”

“Sure~!”

They stumbled through the college campus and into the building that they lived in nearly eating shit multiple times on the way there. They drunkenly walked through the hallway that led toward [Names] dorm, their arms still around each other's shoulders for support.

[Name] opened the door, and they pushed themselves into the small room. [Name] grabbed Darry’s hand, led him to his bed, and pulled him onto it. There was a moment of silence between them… a tension of some sort as they looked at each other.

Darry’s usually neat middle part had become disheveled and stuck out here and there. [Name] reached out and ran his fingers through the messy sections, combing it back to its neat form.

“Your hair is so… soft~.”

Darry looked at [Name], examining him as if he had never seen another boy in his life… or at most one that made him feel this way. Darry chewed on the inside of his lip and stared at [Name] his own face turning pink.

“[Name]?”

“Hm?”

“D-do you have a girl?”

A smile crept onto [Name’s] face, and he gently tilted his head at Darry looking up at him.

“Who said I’m into girls” [Name] said smoothly.

Darry smiled at him, his face turning even pinker as several thoughts ran through his brain. [Name] placed a hand on the right side of his face.

“Are you… into me~?” Darry asked.

“Maybe?”

[Name] placed a soft kiss on Darry’s cheek and pulled back, smiling at him.

“Lips?”

[Name] giggled“You’re cute!”

“Well, are you?”

“Maybe… later?”

Darry frowned at [Name] as he adjusted himself so he was lying next to the wall. He gently patted the spot next to him. Darry fills in the space next to him and lies on his back, drumming his hands on his chest as [Name] lies facing the wall. A million thoughts rushed through his mind once again, but the main one was about his feelings toward the boy next to him.

“Cold.”

“Hm,” Darry hummed in response.

“I’m cold…”

“Oh…”

Darry adjusted his position, his chest to [Name’s] back as he wrapped an arm around the other boy, pulling him in closer.

“Better,” Darry asked?

“Mhm.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Authors note!

In my active era? But I rewatched Jeeper Creepers (pirated it because fuck that director) and immediately after crawled to this app only to see ZERO stories. Also, look at this man, y'all, my knees weak... been on them too long for him. Also, I'm now just realizing how short this is. HOW TF WAS THIS 6 PAGES LONG ON DOCS???

[justloveme]

Does anyone have a gif of Micheal Myers’s, Bubba sawyer’s and pyramid head and other slasher’s thicc ass?

I have Thomas Hewitt

And Jason Voorhees

But I’m a whore and I need more!! I’m starting a collection and I won’t rest until I have everyone!!!

[lostin-thesos]

Mami? Sorry. Mommy? Sorry

Neron "Creeper" Vargas x AFAB!Reader

Summary: You find our you’re pregnant in a fairly interesting way.

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy symptoms (esp. vomiting), mentions and slight descriptions of anxiety/panic attack, slight language/cursing

Word Count: 4.6k

A/N: No use of y/n or pronouns, but given the context they do have a uterus, but that is it. Oh and some feminine nicknames.

Multiple text notifications back-to-back were what woke you up. You still couldn’t figure out if it was your or Creeper’s phone.  In all honesty you did not have the energy to check. If it was important, they could wait a few more minutes. You felt your boyfriend’s side of the bed but found it empty. Another round a ‘pings’ caused you to groan because it was your phone. You blindly searched for it on your bedside table and sleepily checked who was blowing up your phone so early.

The answer was the bar girls groupchat. They were all talking about today’s plans to make tamales. It had been decided that it would be fun to have at Nail’s baby shower. You were getting together today so they would be ready for the party tomorrow. This was the first time they were doing something like this and needless to say a few of the girls were excited. Right now, you were somewhat regretting agreeing to help. Only because you hated being woken up this early. It was a small price to pay to ensure that the tamales would finish cooking at a decent hour. According to the texts everyone was already at the clubhouse, except you and Jess. This info had you scrambling out of bed and frantically getting dressed. You sent a quick reply saying you’d be there in a bit and headed to the kitchen to grab a quick breakfast.

Creeper was watching in the living room eating a niño envuelto (Mexican Swiss roll) with his coffee. As quietly as you could, you crept up to him to try and grab his food. Just as you were reaching to grab it, he shoved the rest in his mouth. You playfully smacked his arm and called him a cabrón. He huffed before silently lifting his coffee to offer you a sip. The second the smell hit your nose a wave of nausea washed over you. You gagged a little before covering your nose and backed away from the couch. Neron was quick to move the cup away and placed it on the coffee table.

He apologized. “Shit. Sorry, Mami. I forgot coffee has been messing with you.”

After you no longer felt like puking, you reassured him. “It’s okay, babe, really. I didn’t even get sick this time.”

You squeezed his shoulder before heading to the kitchen to find some breakfast. You felt him watching you to make sure that you were actually good. His concern was comforting and valid because recently your nose had been extra sensitive. All it took was a decent whiff of certain odors to send you running to the bathroom. This sensitivity seemed to pop up out of nowhere and you were hoping it would pass soon.

Once your cinnamon tea was finished brewing, you joined Neron in the living room. You sat on the opposite end and stretched out to rest your feet on one of his thighs. Instinctively his arm came off the back of the couch and loosely grabbed your ankle. His thumb absently rubbed the patch of skin above your socks, while you sat there eating and lightly chatting. You filled him in on how the girls woke you up and needed you at the clubhouse asap. He snorted at their impatience and agreed to leave once breakfast was over. His shift at the junkyard started soon anyway so it was fine. All too soon breakfast was cleaned up, you finished getting ready and headed out.

Creeper’s bike slowed to a stop in its usual spot outside the clubhouse and you removed your arms from around him. He helped you get off, though it was not necessary at this point in your relationship, but it still made your heart flutter. It was the little things that made you feel the most loved. You put your helmet in his saddlebag and grabbed your bag that had some spatulas that were perfect for spreading masa, as well as your usual stuff. Neron, who had slung his work shirt on already, waited until you were situated before pulling you in for a quick kiss. You exchanged “love yous” and you fixed his collar before finally starting to make your way toward the clubhouse. Neron softly smacked your butt as you walked away. You turned back to him in fake shock, all he did in return is wink at you and headed toward the junkyard office.

You enter the clubhouse through the side door and went straight to the small kitchen hidden there. It was alive with chatter and the clattering of dishes as everyone made sure everything was almost ready. There was also music coming from a small speaker somebody bought. True to the group text they were all here although some not looking too happy about being up so early; Letty mostly. A quick survey let you know that the corn husks were already soaking and the meat was cooked, which were the arguably the most time consuming in terms of prep. Everyone was scattered around cooking the chili sauces, preparing the masa, and dicing cheese. There was a table set up in the middle where you would all prepare the tamales. It gave you an odd sense of déjà vu and stirred up memories of a similar scene in your grandma’s kitchen when you were younger.

You made your way over to Letty, who was finishing up the green chili, to ask if she needed help. She just held up a spoon to taste if the green chili was ready The small taste you took was honestly perfect, it wasn’t too spicy that it would overwhelm your taste buds but it had the necessary kick. You told her as such and excused yourself to go put your bag down and wash your hands. Jess and another girl were working the bar right now, since someone needed to be there to help the prospect. Small greetings were exchanged before you returned to the kitchen.

Hope was moving all the different bowls to the table when you walked in. You were quick to help her set them up in a way that you could work like an assembly line. This was proven to be the most efficient way. She sent you a thankful smile in return. Once everything was set up, you all stood around the table ready to begin, Letty delegating specific duties to each of you. The pairs were you and Sofia on masa spreading, Hope and Nails were on adding the fillings, which left her and Cielo on folding and adding to the pot. As you were about to start scooping when Nails spoke up.

“Wait. Before we start, I gotta ask. Neither one of you is pregnant, right?” She asked gesturing to you and Sofia.

It got impossibly quiet in the small kitchen. To say you were all surprised by her question is an understatement. Why was it relevant? You glanced at the others and saw that they looked just as confused as you. The silence was slowly becoming unbearable. Sure, you were close to these girls but normally you worked up to talking about your sex lives. You didn’t know what to do or say so you just started awkwardly laughing. Sofia joined in but you both stopped when you saw the serious look on Nail’s face. Oh, she really wanted to know.

“Maybe I should explain.”

“Yeah, that would be helpful.” Letty muttered.

“The reason I asked is because of an old superstition my abuela used to tell us about. She always said that pregnant women under no circumstances should touch the masa. They can help but the masa is off-limits. There’s something about being pregnant that causes masa to not cook for some reason. I don’t know much about it,” She paused letting us process. “I know it’s a silly wives’ tale but I figured it is better to be safe, ya know?”

Another silence filled the room while you took in what she said. Again, you were at a loss for words, but the more you thought about it, you kind of remember your grandma saying something similar when she hosted the annual tamalada (tamale-making party). You didn’t pay much attention then because you were young, and thought there was no way it could be true.

“Oh please. For all we know this could just be a rumor some pregnant lady started so she didn’t have to help.” Letty argued.

“I know that, but it feels safer asking. Just in case,” Nails reiterated.

Letty just rolled her eyes and held her hands up. “Whatever.”

You were quick to try and cut any remaining tension. For whatever reason lately Letty had been bitchier than usual, with everyone. When anyone tried to ask her about it should would just mutter “I’m fine” or “fuck off” before walking away. Hope speculated that it was boy trouble on your double date last week.

“Well in any case. I know for sure I am not. EZ and I are not quite there yet.” Sofia commented. She was semi-new to your group since she had just started talking to EZ. She and Nails have been friends for awhile as well.

“Yeah. Creeper and I are safe every time. Not even sure we are ready for a kid.” You assured Nails with a smile. If you learned anything growing up is that there was some truth to old superstitions. “Now let’s get started or we will be here all day.”

Once that was settled, the work began with some light chatter. It didn’t take long for a system to develop where Hope filled your husks and Nails filled Sofia’s. No topic was considered off-limits given how connected most of your lives were. You dished out a fair amount of dirt about your old men, coworkers, and even rude strangers. Although you still couldn’t get Letty to spill on what has been going on with her. Which was understandable she was the youngest of the group, not to mention that her dad’s girlfriend was here. Laughter filled the room after a story about how Neron claimed you were cheating the last time you played Loteria with your nieces and nephews; he was just upset he kept losing. You may have disclosed that some of the cards went “missing” when he was close to winning.

After the first bowl was empty and the first batch was on the stove to steam. It was unanimous decision that it was time for lunch. A timer was set but it felt irresponsible to leave the pot unattended, so a small group was sent to go pick up food. The once noisy kitchen had gone silent as you all munched on your food. There was not much you could do now, so unlike this morning there was no rush. It was nice and in a weird way took you back to making them with your family before you moved. In some way these girls here were your family. Why else would you be making tamales out of season for a baby shower?

Someone’s hand grabbing your burrito from behind made you jump. An arm wrapping around your waist told you it was Neron. Although, you could not relax because before you knew what was happening, he pulled your food out of your grasp and taking a bite. A small gasp left your mouth at his blasphemous actions. How dare he still your food. You may love him, but sharing your food was testing that love.

“Oh, so now you wanna share food?” You joked turning around to face him, snatching your food back.

All he did was grunt in agreement as he also took a sip of your soda.

“Aye, Güey. Get your own!” You bleated swatting his hands away.

He tightened his grip around your waist before kissing the crease between your brows. You felt your face soften almost instantly. His lips were so damn soft. He held eye contact as he took another sip of your drink. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion and he set the cup down.

“Is that root beer?”

You nodded your head in answer. “Why?”

“Nothing, just curious. Anyways I came over to tell you my shift is over and I’m gonna hit a meeting.”

You nodded your head in understanding. You were proud of him and his dedication to staying sober. His presence clued you in that he wasn’t here just to inform of this; he would’ve just sent a text. He was here for a good-bye kiss. It was routine in your relationship given how dangerous his life could be. You just wanted to see if he would ask for it or not.

“Okay. Depending how this batch goes, we might be done soon. I’ll probably stay and work the bar, if you are going to come back after.” You told him, walking with him toward the back door.

“Sounds good. Let me know if anything changes, kay?”

“Will do. Love you, chulo.” You cooed, draping your arms around the back of his neck. His hands rested on hips and pulled you closer. You didn’t move to kiss him, you kind of wanted him to ask. A playfully smirk made its way on your face as you raised your eyebrows challenging him He sighed and placed his forehead on yours; partially because he did not like being called chulo in public. Not enough to ask you to stop, he just knew his brothers would rag on him if they heard.

“Love you too, mamas. Dame un beso,” He whispered. This was one of the few phrases in Spanish he pronounced perfectly.

You were quick to peck his plush lips for longer than necessary. The kisses were just that much sweeter whenever he asked in Spanish. A round of whoops and hollers from the kitchen broke you too apart. Heat slowly spread across your face. You had forgotten there was other people here. You flipped the girls off and gave Neron one last kiss.

The girls were still giggling when you returned. You just rolled your eyes at them and tried to finish your lunch. Unfortunately, you hadn’t gotten two bites in when Hope called your name. Something was bothering her and she was not sure how to bring it up. She was playing with her fingers and avoiding eye contact. This caused a knot to form in your stomach. You swallowed your food and waited for her to continue.

“Since when do you like root beer?” She finally asked after what felt like forever.

It was a valid question, that you for some reason could not answer. There was no clear reason. Most of them knew of your distaste for root beer. Yet here you were willingly drinking it. So, you just shrug your shoulders before answering.

“Don’ t know. I’ve just had a hankering for it recently.” As if to further prove your point, you took another drink.

“Hankering?” Letty snorted, “You sure you aren’t pregnant?”

You all but chocked on your drink at her joke. Again, it took you a bit to compose yourself as the weight of her words fully hit you. Logically you knew she was just messing around, but that did not stop the wheels from turning in your head. Could you be pregnant? There were definitely a few signs that pointed to yes. To say that you and Neron had a healthy sex life would be an understatement. But that did not erase the fact that you were safe every single time. Sure, there was a couple of times where you forgot to take your birth control or were in too much of a rush to wrap it. But it rarely happened.

Before you could spiral to deep, a small ‘umm guys’ from Sofia pulled you out of your thoughts. All your heads snapped to look at her… standing by the now open pot… checking on the tamales. Sofia’s wide eyes and furrowed brows, told you something wasn’t right. But there was no way that it could be what you thought it was. Your palms immediately started to sweat as she opened and shut her mouth a few times.

“So uhh. The masa for some of these doesn’t seem to be cooking right. “It might be nothing, but…” She trailed off.

You felt your stomach drop and anxiety wash over you. This triggered bile to rise in your throat, and you ran to the bathroom with your hand covering your mouth. Clearly God or whatever higher power out there was playing a cruel joke on you. After getting acquainted with the club porcelain, all that could be heard was you repeatedly mumbling ‘no,no,no,no,no”. This could not be happening, this wasn’t real. You couldn’t be pregnant, not right now. Right? There was only one way to find out for sure.

You rinsed your mouth and wiped the small tears away before heading back to the kitchen. Careful not to make any eye contact with whatever members were in the main area. The last thing you needed was one of them to bother you and then tell Creeper. The girls were sporting grim looks when you re-entered. You noticed that Cielo was missing from your little group. Before you could ask, Hope told you that she went to go get a test.

*

Waiting for the stupid test was the longest two minutes of your life. You sat on the closed toilet seat with your head in your hands, unable to stop the erratic bouncing of your leg. All you could do was think about how there were multiple signs, but you chose to brush them off. How could you be so blind? How did this even happen? Well, you knew how, but still. You had no idea what you were going to do if it was positive. Also, where did Neron stand on the whole subject? This wasn’t exactly a topic you two discussed at length. Having kids was always a ‘maybe one day’ scenario to you, and it was starting to look like one day might be here. No. You needed to find out before you started to panic. Which is easier said than done.

The sound of your phone’s timer going off pulled you out of your head. This was it, the moment that could change your life forever. With shaking hands you grabbed the stick off the counter and then closed your eyes. After taking a deep breath, you finally looked at the test in your hands. Pregnant.

Tears welled in your eyes and a flood of conflicting emotions hit you. You gingerly placed a hand over your stomach unable to fully wrap your head around everything. It was like you were trapped in a dream and nightmare at the same time, but there was no waking up from it. You stayed in the bathroom a little while longer to regulate your emotions.

Nails was guarding the broken bathroom door to make sure no one interrupted. All it took was for you making eye contact for her to know. She was literally in your position a few months ago. She understood the emotions you were feeling, how close you were to spiraling. No words were needed as she pulled you into a hug, softly rubbing your back. The pressure of her belly oddly comforting. And thankfully you were calmer once you pulled apart. The clubhouse was definitely not the place to try to deal with this news. You thanked her as you walked back to the kitchen. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Angel send you guys a questioning look.

“Lady troubles.”

“Mind your business.”

You replied at the same time.

The girls swarmed you the second you stepped foot in the kitchen. It was expected because they were almost just as anxious as you.

“Who knew that masa superstition was correct?” Hope joked trying to break the tension.

“Hope!” You exclaimed before laughing.

“I’m just saying.”

You all laughed about it and tried to get the day back on track. The plan was to let the “baby batch” steam longer and see if they cooked. There was still some masa left so you guys could make more if needed, you and Hope would switch tasks.

You left the clubhouse a little while later. Cielo refused to let you stay and work behind the bar like you normally would. Conversations thankfully did not revolve around your newfound situation for too long. The girls were more excited for Nails’ baby shower, and making sure everything was ready. Creeper eventually returned to pick you up so you guy could have dinner together. Giving him some excuse on why you didn’t want to stay.

Exhaustion hit as soon as you walked through the door. Today had been a lot and it wasn’t even over yet. You planted yourself face down on the sofa after turning on a random movie. Creeper had dropped you off to go pick up the food you ordered, which gave you some much needed alone time. Despite how brief it would be. It gave you just enough time to start processing the fact that there was life growing inside you. The initial panic had seemingly run its course, but you were still unsure how you felt overall. Is this something you actually want? Would Neron want this too? Are you guys even ready for kids yet? You also wondered what it would be like to have a mini version of you and Neron running around. Picturing what they might look like and who they took after most. If you were to have it, would you guys be good parents?

 It was a lot to think about, and now there was a deadline, which made every answer that much more crucial. You also had to decide when and how to tell your boyfriend; that was step one. Though that was not going to happen until you knew how you felt.

The rumble of Creep’s bike pulling into the driveway caused you to finally sit up. No need to worry him right as he walked in. A wave of panic washed over you again, but you shook it off. What if he figured it out? What if… Before you had more time to get in your own head, the front door was unlocked.

“I’m back,” Neron gruffly greeted as he slipped off his kutte and boots leaving them by the door.

He kissed your temple before plopping down next to you and placing the takeout on the coffee table. Silence filled the space between you as you two ate. No words were needed for the time being. You were busy pretending to be invested in the movie currently playing. It was entertaining enough and allowed you to relax for the first time today.

“So how was the rest of your day, mamas?” Creep asked. How true that nickname was now.

You tensed up slightly at this, you just hoped he didn’t notice. You took a second to think about how to answer. This wasn’t the time to tell him you decided.

“Oh, uhh well. It was,” you paused pretending to think of the right word. “Interesting.”

He hummed in response and waited for you to continue. You told him about some of the pregnancy stories Nails had imparted on the group throughout the day. It felt like you were cutting it a little close, but for now it was the only option.

*

One week. You have managed to keep the secret from Creep for one week. It wasn’t so much a secret as it was just trying to figure out what you wanted. Fortunately, a little trick of vaporub under the nose, that Nails told you about, kept your morning sickness at bay for the most part. Unfortunately, now that you knew the pregnancy symptoms hit you full force, you didn’t know what was worse: fatigue or mood swings. It was definitely the mood swings. Everything was okay one minute the next you were either crying or angry beyond belief. You could tell it was getting to Creep as well and it was probably about time to rip the band aid off. That and because you did not know how much longer you could keep this to yourself.

It happened one night as you two were eating dessert in the living room. You were sitting next to each other, but you might as well been in separate rooms with how tense it was. You had gotten snippy with him earlier so the only sounds were your chewing and the game he was watching. You knew you weren’t being fair by giving him the silent treatment, but you didn’t care. Your secret was now creating distance between the two of you and it was time to do something about it. You just did not know how to start this conversation. It turns out your mouth knew though.

“Neron, we got to talk,” you started setting your food down. “Do you remember last week when I told you tamale making had been interesting?” You turned to face him.

“Yeah,” he replied mimicking you, sensing that this was important. Hoping you were finally going to tell him what has been bothering you. He knew something was wrong but he couldn’t figure it out. Which was surprising because normally he could read you like a book.

You took a deep breath and waited for him to make eye contact. It was now or never.

“Guapo, I’m pregnant,” you confessed.

He did not react for a couple of seconds; all he did was drop his gaze to your stomach than back to your eyes. The look of bewilderment on his face might have been adorable in any other situation. But before you could start to panic, he nodded his head a couple of times.

“You’re right mami, that is interesting. How are you feeling? Have you thought about what you want to do?” He asked clearly interested in the answer.

“I’m still not sure, honestly,” you shrug in response. “I’ve been spending the last week trying to wrap my head around the whole thing. But I wanted to tell you, see how you felt.” You bit your bottom lip.

He reached to smooth it with his thumb, before cupping your cheek. His brown eyes bore into yours and held nothing but adoration, tenderness, and love. A smile creeping its way on his face.

“I mean I’m not opposed to the idea. It’s kinda like you said, a lot to process, but I am here for you. I will support your decision either way, okay?”

You nodded as tears welled in your eyes. How did you get so lucky to find someone so supportive. You just wanted to kiss him, and you did. You surged forward and planted your lips on his, cupping the back of his head. He pulled you closer, wrapping an arm around you. The kiss was desperate and passionate. It was like you were trying to pour all your stress, anxiety, hope, and trust into it, while he was soaking it up and reassuring you that everything was okay.

“You don’t gotta cry, baby. We’re alright. Everything will be okay.” He reassured you after you pulled apart. “What do say we sleep on it and talk about it more tomorrow? Huh?”

You wiped your eyes and nodded.

“Sounds good.”

“Shoulda fucking figured it out sooner, with how crazy you’ve been acting.” He teased.

“Shut up.” You laughed smacking his arm. He wrapped his arm around you and kissed the top of your head. You snuggled closer and returned your attention back to the tv. The weight on your shoulders felt lighter already and you trusted that Creep was right. It was going to be okay. No matter what you choose to do, as long as you had each other.

A/N: fun fact this idea has been mulling around my brain for a few years now and I finally got a round to finishing it. In the earlier drafts reader was Angel and Ez’s little sister… So thanks for taking the time to read it. Comments and reblogs greatly appreciated! I DO NOT CONSENT TO MY WORK BEING PUBLISHED ELSEWHERE!!

[sogoodtoheritsvicious]

Hi and for the love of God hello 👋🏼 after going back and forth i’ve decided to try my hand at writing for the mayans boys and the sons we all know and love! Please feel free to hit up my ask box <3

Requests: Open

who i write for:

- Mayans MC

• Angel Reyes

• Ez Reyes

• Coco Cruz

• Nestor Oceteva

• Neron “Creeper” Vargas

• Bishop Losa

• Hank Loza

• Gilly Lopez

• Michael “Riz” Ariza

- Sons Of Anarchy

• Jax Teller

• Juice Ortiz

• Opie Winston

• Happy Lowman

• Herman Kozik

• Filip “Chibs” Telford

• Alexander “Tig” Trager

What i take requests for:

• Headcanons

• Preferences

• Would includes

• Most likely to’s

What i don’t take requests for:

• Smut

• Self harm of any kind - talking about the reader having a mental illness is fine but i’m not comfortable writing about them harming themselves

• Reader being related to any of the characters

• Toxic relationships - We’re all about healthy, loving relationships in this house!

any gifs used are not mine!

[bullet-prooflove]

Talk Dirty To Me (NSFW) - Neron 'Creeper' Vargas x Reader

Tagging: @est1887 @anime-weeb-4-life @creativitybeware @mortal--soul @spaghettificationandpretzels @corruptedcoffin @redpoodlern @oureternalbond @rubes2323 @samanthaofanarchy @lexondeck

You’re a work of art, Neron has thought that since the moment he met you. Those pretty floral tattoos sweeping up your arms, he likes to trace his fingers over them, following the lines and flourishes until he reaches your shoulders. His palms chase the daisies and roses that decorate the curve of your waist, until his hands rest firmly over the swell of your hips, holding them in place tight against his own as he loves you from behind.

There’s nothing more beautiful than you spread open on his mattress. Hair falling over your face as you bury it even deeper between his pillows to stifle the noise you make as he fucks you with long drawn out strokes that make you sing out his name.

“You like that, nene?” he asks you as he presses deep. “Feels like you were made for this cock. So wet and fucking tight. The perfect fit for me.”

You can’t speak. The pleasure of being with him is too much for words alone so you moan, biting down on the fabric of the pillowcase because when Neron gets you like this you can’t help but be loud.

“Taking me so fucking well.” He tells you, his gaze lowering to the space where his cock disappears inside of you. "Such a good fucking girl for me."

He learned in the early days of the relationship how you respond to praise; that it ignites some erotic part inside of your brain, heightening the sensations and driving you wild.  The right words at the right time from Neron…

They ruin you.

“Fuck baby you feel so good.” He rasps, his voice rough as his hips start to stutter. “Gonna come Mami, gonna fill you up until it leaks out around my cock so that you remember it's me that loves you the most.”

Those words, this man.

You combust around him, the orgasm igniting like a star through your synapses and consuming you entirely. It’s the noise that tips him over the edge, that muffled shriek as your body tenses, gripping his cock he can’t help but lose it. He fucks you through it, drawing those deviant little cries from your lips as he watches his cum drip from that perfect little pussy of yours. He uses his thumb to smear it around your opening, his dick still buried deep inside of you.

It’s territorial, he knows it but you’re his and it’s moments like this that remind of shit like that because deep down he’s insecure, he craves the intimacy of being with you. The act itself, the aftermath…

“Fuck nene, I love you so much.” He tells you. “Seeing you covered in me…”

He trails off because he can’t describe what it means to him, how it makes him feel to have you wrecked in his sheets. He never thought he’d have something this beautiful in his life, something so perfect, his heart hurts at the thought of losing it.

“I know.” You tell him, your cheeks flushed pink as you look at him over your shoulder. “Christ Neron, it means everything to me too.”

**********************************************************

In the aftermath Neron can’t help but touch you. His palms trace over the curves of your naked form, his lips ghosting over the rose tattoo etched up the side of your throat. His body is pressed against the length of yours, skin against skin, ink against ink. The tattoos, they bleed into one another, colours and shapes clashing, your softness against his rougher edges. Contrasting but complementary, all at the same time. His thumb trails over the outline of your jaw as he looks into your eyes, his mouth brushing over yours with the softest of kisses.

“You’re so beautiful Mami.” He whispers against your lips. “Like God himself painted you and set you down on this earth just for me.”

Your fingertips follow the line of his pert mouth, he captures them in his hand, pressing delicate kisses to the pads of your fingers.

“Can’t get enough of you.” He tells you, his expressive eyes fixed on yours as he guides your hand lower, underneath the sheets before placing it on his stiffening cock. “Just had you and I want you even more, need to be filling up that pussy again nene, showing you just how much I love you.”

His fingers delve between your legs, his fingertips radiating heat as he moves in slow, stimulating circles that make your skin flush with ecstasy.

“Think you can so that for me Mami?” he asks you, his lips brushing over yours. “Think you can be good to me and give me a little more? Think that you take me again?”

He kisses you as his fingers seek out your wetness, still slick and leaking with his cum. His thumb presses down just a little on your clit, fingertips teasing around the entrance. You whimper into his mouth, nails scratching his skin as he allows one of his fingers to slip inside of you, pushing directly on that sweet spot.

“Yea Mami,” he murmurs against the corner of your mouth. “I think you’ve got another round in you.”

Love Creeper? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[ravennaortiz]

Mayans Christmas 2023 Masterlist

The complete list of stories are listed under the cut! Thank you to all who have read and enjoyed this project!

12/1- Northern Lights with Creeper

12/2- Wrapping Presents with Coco

12/3- Candy Cane with Manny

12/4- Secret Santa with Angel

12/5- Christmas Sweater with Bishop

12/6- Mistletoe with Guero

12/7- Fireplace with Bottles

12/8- Snowman with gilly

12/9- All I want with Creeper

12/10- Hot Chocolate with Coco

12/11- Tree Hunting with Manny

12/12- Tree Decorating with Bishop

12/13- Naughty List with Angel

12/14- Christmas Cookies with Creeper

12/15- Ice Skating with Gilly

12/16- Snow Angel with Bottles

12/17- Christmas Lights with Guero

12/18- Snowed in with Coco

12/19- Sledding with Angel

12/20- Frosty with Guero

12/21- Gingerbread House with Bishop

12/22- Snowflakes with Manny

12/23- Santa Baby with Gilly

12/24- Christmas Eve with Guero

12/25- Christmas Day with Coco

12/26- Call Me Holly with Creeper

12/27- Snowball with Angel

12/28- Cold Toes with Guero

12/29- Elf with Bishop

12/30- Blanket Fort with Manny

12/31- New Year, New Me with Coco

Bonus Stories!!!!!

Candy Cane Follow Up

Snowman Follow Up

[ofallthingsnasty]

tw: yandere, kidnapping/basement spousery, depression, mentions of noncon, gn reader characters: Crocodile, Sanji, Doflamingo, Law word count: 1.3k

One thing I learned recently is that I'm definitely a social creature and would get horribly, horribly depressed as someone's basement wife, even a well entertained one. All the books, the crafts, the soft music in the world couldn't prevent me from sobbing into my pillows, couldn't get me to crawl out of bed and to paint a smile on my face. Oh, but how would your captor react? For some, it's definitely a necessary evil - Crocodile comes to mind here. Annoyed by your lethargy, by your random tears and your meek, taciturn responses, he finds himself frustrated at times. This state of mind really isn’t ideal - he wanted you docile, sure, but not lifeless. Yet it's also awfully convenient when you just let him push you around, let him caress and touch you - and not out of fear of him, simply because you don't care to struggle. He discovers that he can forgive a lot when you're especially shaken and cling to him, bury your head in his chest because he's the only human you'll ever know again and the world is so bleak around you and you just need him right now. Of course, it would be nicer if you didn't do it because he's the only warm-blooded creature that you interact with, but he'll take what he can get. (And with time, it weirdly grows on him: him turning into the center of your life, the way your eyes seem to light up the tiniest bit when he comes home to you, something he thought mildly annoying at first turning out to be awfully convenient.)

To others, it's devastating. Sanji lives for your smiles, your warmth, the way your eyes crinkle and you jut your head forward when you fully, genuinely laugh - total apathy is worse than antagonism to him. If you were to scream, shout, put your fingers around his neck and squeeze with the desperation of a cornered prey animal, he'd at least get a reaction, some signs of life out of you. But you don't even do that. You just sit and try to suppress tears while he holds your hand. Sometimes he just cries with you, letting himself fall into the same hole you're being pulled into. It makes him regret taking you so utterly, bitterly, makes him feel all those memories from when he was a child bubble up in his stomach until they force themselves out and he has to vomit to be rid of them. He’s just like his father, he thinks, and it makes him sick. He’s rotten down to the very core, cursed from birth and now he has gone and soiled you, too - he’ll end up sobbing into the crook of your neck more than once, full of genuine remorse. And all you’ll be able to do is absentmindedly pat his hair, thoughts spilling like an knocked over ink well. No, you slipping into a deeply depressive state is only going to worsen the hatred he has for himself, is going to poison him slowly and steadily until he’ll be in agony. Maybe it’s his just punishment.

Then there are the ones like Doflamingo who simply don’t care. You don’t crawl out of bed until noon? You just stare into space or bury yourself in books when you finally do? You’re just lifeless by his side, just blink, shrug your shoulders when spoken to, just exist? Whatever, he has always treated you like a doll from the start. He can even weather the elusive bouts of sobbing and crying (even if he hates it when they happen), because most of the time you’re just his poseable thing and he is nothing if not generous to allow you a tantrum here and there. He doesn't feel bad about you being a more of a hollowed out shell of a person than a fully-fledged human with a rich inner life and doesn't care that most of it is his fault - his fault that you fester and rot beneath the surface, his fault that all the opulent, vibrant clothing and the scorching hot days by the pool still leave you frosty and weirdly bloodless, like a cold-blooded creature in winter. Food is ash in your mouth and only sours your stomach but you still eat when he tells you to, touches feel foreign and loveless but you still let him fuck you if he so wishes. Why should he care what circles around in your head when he gets to do anything he wants to you? That you feel like life is no luster, only desperation? The truly bothersome parts are taken care of by his myriad of servants and the family. Messes left behind get cleaned up, baths are forced on you regularly, as are grooming sessions. If you don’t get dressed on your own either someone else will see to it or he will - and he’ll have his payment for his time, trust me. The solemn mood, the non-existent smiles… he doesn't care for that. You’re not here for your entertainment, you’re here for his. And you just accepting your fate and letting him do whatever it is he wants… That’s just perfect, isn’t it?

Of course, let’s not forget about the ones who secretly love it. Law is a prime example, especially with his medical background. He isn’t surprised that your mood sways - he expected as much when he restricted your every move, declared the outside world to be too unhealthy for you. Of course you’d slip into a depressive episode. And it’s not a flaw, it’s intentional. Because now - now, when you can’t peel yourself out of bed, when everything feels too much, when you can’t feed or move or dress or take care of yourself- he gets to swoop in. He gets to do it for you, gets to tell you that he’s here and that he’ll always catch you when you fall. That his assessment of your condition was accurate - that you always needed him, right from the start. Dependency is worth more than all the love in the world to him. It simply doesn’t matter if you’d rather slit his throat than to behave for him out of your own volition - as long as you can’t leave. Even if he genuinely loves you, he’s not deluded enough to cling to daydreams of him and you living a quiet, happy life full of reciprocated affection, that ship has long sailed - sailed ever since his childhood got irrevocably destroyed. No. Love is nice and good and makes him wash you gladly, makes him care for you with delicate hands and with a patient brow - but your sickness makes you stay, renders you unable to leave him. It’s the only currency he can trade in when it comes to you. He’s your savior and tormentor rolled into one person; but above all he is the only one who cares and will forever care. You could rot yourself into a pathetic, sweat-soaked, disgusting corner, could turn into nothing but a husk and he’d always, always nurse you out of the ditch he’s found you in, just at the right time.  What he doesn’t tell you is that he could help you. At least artificially. Boost your moods with SSRIs until you bounce off the walls with nervousness and sweat thrice as much; make you giddy and shaky until you get used to the dose. Until the world seems worth living in once more, until at least some color returns to your drab eyes. He could get you the medication, even try some speech therapy, could help you like a good boyfriend should. But why? It makes no sense. Why help you only to get some fire back, maybe even for you to slip through his fingers? It’s easier to sit in twosome silence with tired eyes watching him, eyes that one day might be grateful for all the work he has put into them. Until then, it’s of utmost importance that they stay right where they are: in a cramped, dirty corner of a bed, dull and lifeless.