#scarlet hollow x reader

[absntlvrs]

pspspsps scarlet hollow fans cmere n send me your requests pls🫶

[marsipan0]

🔥reese pinning your hips to the bed and eating you out PLEASE-

18+, smut under the cut, afab anatomy used, any pronouns for y/n

God, you were so fucked. Everything he was doing right now was turning you into a mess, you were melting. "Fuck, keep doing that- I can't-" you can feel his soft, breathy laugh against you. You let a whine when he pulls away, a bright mischievous look in his eyes as he smiles sweetly, almost innocently, though the effect is ruined by the dampness of his lips, covered in-

He dove back in before you could finish your thought, his tongue pressing deeper than before. You squirm, only for his hands to press into your hips, pinning you. "Reese- I- You- Please-" you couldn't speak, couldn't even form a coherent thought. You never thought you'd be fucked dumb by just a tongue. Then you felt it, the shifting. The head in between your thighs changing, the ears elongating, the teeth brushing against you sharpening, the tongue pressing deeper, the tip splitting. He had complete control, you couldn't even process- his tongue flicked against your cervix. You came in an explosion of moans and whines, thighs tightening around his head and legs shaking. He devoured you, taking everything you offered, drinking like a man deprived of water in an oasis. When he finally pulled back, he pressed soft kisses to your thighs, thumbs moving to stroke gentle circles on your hips. "Next time," you spoke with a rawness in your voice, so rough from the noises you made, "I get to make you scream".

[daemonoferror]

A date to Build-a-Bear with your Scarlet Hollow SO

Includes: Stella, Avery, Kaneeka, Oscar, Reese, and Wayne

Note: idk, earlier this year I got sad I couldn't just. Go to build a bear. So I started writing these. Reader is hardly mentioned but I did write it in the spirit of you being there.

Stella

• No clue how you got her there, but hey, you did it.

• Gretchen's going with you by the way, that's a given but I think important to mention.

• Go around Halloween, hopefully someday they'll have the mothman bear we've all dreamed of.

• Stella has so many ideas for what to make, though.

• Get a Halloween themed bear- no wait, a dog- no wait, this one looks really fucking stupid it's perfect- no wait-

• You have to go multiple times so she gets every bear she can think of.

• If she can make one look like Gretchen or a cryptid that'd be perfect

• But she'd also love to make a really screwed up, funny looking bear. Like-

• "Oh yeah, I noticed this one's missing an eye so. I'm getting this one." "This shirt has a typo on it, that's so funny i love it" "do you think they'll let me mismatch the shoes??" "a HOOK HAND ACCESSORY?! Well obviously I need that"

• You would not be able to tell a grown woman made this bear.

• She'll DIY it clothes later, it has it's own little wardrobe of wacky outfits

• She'll buy accessories she thinks Gretchen could wear.

• Lets Gretchen lick the heart before it's put in the bear

• Might get a sound effect heart but worries it'll be too annoying.

• If she got a scentiment it'd probably be the pumpkin one or... pizza? Because that existed, apparently?

• Names it something silly- an old man name like Harlod. Or give it a cryptid name.

• Absolutely fucking loved the date, she's already planning the next trip there.

--

Avery

• They'll think the idea is very cute.

• Make sure to go around spring/saint Patrick's day.

• Wants a flower print or green bear. (The point of going near saint Patrick's day is too ensure there's a shamrock bear to meet these requirements)

• Chooses the lavender scentiment for their bear.

• Will do that thing where you record a message for eachother's bear. They'll do a simple "I love you *kiss noise*" and it makes you swoon. They are SO perfect.

• You make a plant pun for their's, they love it no matter how stupid it is.

• They somehow make doing the heart ritual look cool?

• Finds a plant shirt and the bear's fate is sealed: they're gonna match :o

• The bear will be just as stylish as them (maybe more, I keep imagining Avery giving it a monocle accessory)

• Either names it after a plant- Like Magnolia or Clover- or names it the same way they name their plants (assuming they name their plants bc... who doesn't?)

• Very happy with the date and their bear, will show it off to everyone. Maybe it has a place at the diner- if they can find a spot garunteed to not get maple syrup spilled on it, anyways.

--

Kaneeka

• She probably came up with the idea, but feels a little silly about it at first because it seems so childish.

• Go around Halloween to once again ensure the pick of a spooky lil bear

• She takes it very seriously- this is gonna be the best goddamn bear ever.

• There are 2 wolves fighting inside Kaneeka: The goth and the nerd.

• So she's having a difficult time choosing between whatever collab buildabear is doing at the time (superheroes, sonic, Mario, whatever) or making the coolest goth bear you've ever seen.

• Please just let her get both 🥺

• Thin mints cookie scentiment for one bear, coconut for the other.

• Will do a cute sound effect for her bear. She would suggest recording one for eachother, but she doesn't know what to say.

• She's not mismatching the collab bear, it's getting the accessories that was made for it.

• The goth bear will get the nicest outfit ever, in all blacks and dark colors.

• She'll also DIY it clothes to fit her aesthetic better

• Gives it a very pretty, elegant name, like Celeste or Audrey

• The other bear, she fills it out the exact way she would for the character, which just feels like extra work.

• "Why does Batman need a birth certificate? He's batman." Proceeds to do the right thing and names it Bruce Wayne and changes the birthday to the right birthday.

• Thinks it was the perfect date, and is really happy you went together.

--

Oscar

• You'll be forced to take Rosalina and her friends with you, so not really a date. He'll see it as more of an outing for the kids, but it's kinda fun to participate.

• Gets the classic bear with brown, curly fur.

• Won't get a scent or a sound effect.

• Is a bit embarrassed to do the heart ritual, but turns it around quickly, joking that a teddy bear's heart transplant is no laughing matter.

• Won't want to get accessories because those cost money, but if you insist because you're paying, he'll cave and give it a dapper little suit and glasses. Maybe a top hat. A mini book to read. It'll be so cute.

• Gives it a bear pun or a book reference that no one gets for a name.

• Is very tired at the end of the day from being dragged around the mall by a bunch of tweens, but he gets home and still thinks it was a good day. Probably falls asleep with the bear. Though that will sadly be the only time, he keeps it on a night stand or bookshelf so it won't fall off and roll under the bed. He'd have a heartattack if he lost it.

--

Reese

• He never went to build a bear as a kid so this is gonna be so great for him.

• Picks out a very soft, cute bear

• Maybe like, the patchwork one with the sewed on heart? Idk why, if just seems right.

• He feels a little out of place, he's not used to cute things. He just sorta picks whatever he vibes with, and it comes out pretty cute and simple.

• He holds it very gently, like it could tear or fall apart at any second.

• Might buy a black or white shirt he can paint later, or a sweater so it doesn't get cold 🥺

• Paint brush accessory

• Blueberry scentiment, doesn't need any sound effects (unless there's a construction noises one LMAO)

• Doing the heart ritual heals his inner child

• Understuffs his bear just a little bit so it's softer

• Names it something absolutely BADASS "Nightmare" "Knight of Dreams" something awesome and cool idfk he's the creative one not me

• Has so much fun, might get sentimental about it. You can pry that bear from his cold dead hands.

--

Wayne

• . . . Why?

• A goop monster walks into a kids store. Screaming and crying insues. And then you're alone in the store.

• The employees might even be out of there, they don't get paid even for this.

• He's just happy to be with you, does not give 2 shits about the teddy bear at first. He adores seeing you having fun, is happier that you're not doing something dangerous.

• DO NOT let him touch the damn bear until it has some washable clothes on!! He can POINT at what he wants!! >:(

• Gets a simple bear, either a very old fashion basic one or just gets the same as you.

• Snazzy little jacket to parallel his. He's fine with you picking out the accessories for him though.

• You make him do the heart ritual even with no employees around to force you to

• Which ends up getting pus and blood in the bear. . . Gross!

• Stuff his bear full of scentiments. No, the scent doesn't matter just- just put them all in. Yeah, it's just to rival the smell of rotting flesh.

• Wayne gives it a very specific name, one you get the feeling comes from someone he knew long ago...

• Since the employees left, please just. Leave some money on the counter. It's okay if you don't pay for the 15 scentiments stuffed inside Wayne's bear. Yeah, no, it's really fine, trust me.

• Wayne will cherish this bear forever, and is extremely careful with it, even though it inevitably gets dirty a few days later anyways.

[gibor-zolel]

I can't believe the first thing I did after watching that Amy Winnhouse movie was go home and finally type up my first fic.

It's a Wayne (from scarlet hollow!) x reader fic and I'll be posting it tomorrow after I clock out. Hope y'all enjoy it! I just gotta touch up a few things.

[beembeem]

Hi everyone! I'm ara/BeemBeem,

In here to share my love for characters that are neglected by their Fandoms. Let me know if you want me to write for a certain character! (I am a beginner writer so please don't be too hard on me(*´∀`) )

I'll also be sharing some of my headcanons too!

Shows I write for!

♡

Attack on titan

My hero academia

Kabaneri of the iron fortress

Chainsaw man (anime only right now)

(If you request a character from a show that isn't on the list I can't guarantee it'll be accurate(´- `*) )

♡

Games I write for!

The legend of Zelda breath of the wild

Scarlet hollow

♡

Things I won't write

Anything that involves children in a way other than platonic (things like aot is fine as long as you state that you want aged up characters)

Gore (unless it's something really tame like a simple injury)

Shigaraki (unless it's an au where he's moisturized)

♡

Example of an acceptable request " (insert character) x platonic/romantic reader (smut, fluff, angst, angst and fluff) doing insert (scenario here)

As long as it's reasonable I'll try my best to write it!

(I write on my phone so please forgive any spelling mistakes)

[sweetiecutie]

Pairing: Remus Lupin x fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, fingering, praising, remmy being a bit of a meanie but also absolutely lovely, public sex and exhibitionism but not really?,

Synopsis: Remmy fingering you in his bed with curtains drawn while all the boys are in the dorm as well, so you better be quiet, don’t you?

A/n: it’s my birthday today!!!🥳🎂 happy bday to me and have this lil treat<3 I really hope you like this lil thing

You and Remus were huddled up on his soft bed, numerous blankets and duvets are scattered everywhere, keeping two of you warm and comfy. Thick heavy curtains were drawn all around the bed, painting everything inside their confines deep scarlet, securely concealing both of you from the noise and havoc that usually reigned in boys’ dormitories.

You were laying on your sides facing each other, your leg thrown over Remus’ hips, head laying comfortably on his shoulder. His arm, that you were laying on, was curled protectively around your shoulders, big warm hand rubbing your back up and down soothingly.

You couldn’t help a small whimper that escaped your lips, but, thankfully, James was wailing so loudly about a new rare card that he got in chocolate frog that his booming voice successfully concealed all of your small sounds. Remus’ fingers kept sliding in and out of your drenched with slick pussy, thumb nudging swollen needy clit persistently, making you shake and writhe around in his arms.

- Now, pretty girl, I told you to be quiet. This time we got lucky, but we don’t want boys to hear what a little slutty thing you are, do we? - Remus murmured softly, his voice low so that only you can hear him. He pressed his lips against the heated skin of your forehead, leaving a chaste kiss there.

You only buried your face into the cozy crook of Remus’ shoulder, his comforting scent hit your nose - he smelled of fresh laundry, fluffy blankets and something sweet that you couldn’t quite decipher - he smelled like home. You wrapped your arms tighter around his neck, bringing yourself even closer to his hot body.

- Spread your legs a bit wider for me… yeah, just like that. Such a smart little thing, aren’t you? - Remus cooed against your ear as you readjusted your position a bit, sliding your leg higher up boy’s torso, increasing by that the gap between your thighs.

You smiled at his praise, leaving a few wet kisses on the side of his neck, nibbling gently on soft skin there but not enough to leave a mark, knowing how much boy disliked that. You could barely contain a moan as Remus increased the speed of his fingers fucking into you, new angle allowed him to reach even deeper inside. Your moth fell open in a silent moan, eyes shutting tightly and you heard Sirius’ roaring laughter and some repetitive hollow thudding, assuming that James and Peter must have started a vicious pillow fight.

Remus’ fingers curled a bit, massaging your frontal wall oh so deliciously, making you jolt harshly at pleasurable feeling.

- Easy, doll. I’ve got you, - Remus tutted into your hair, you could practically hear that well-known shit-eating grin in his voice.

The new positioning of his fingers allowed Remus to strokes you in all the right spots, you felt your orgasm nearing rapidly, heavy pleasure spilling in the bottom of your stomach. You leaned closer into your boyfriend, your hips moving ever so slightly in tandem with his fingers, trying to intensify the feeling.

- Remmy, ‘m really close, - you mewled weakly, words muffled because of your face squished against boy’s warm chest.

- I know, baby, just let it go. C’mon, cum on my fingers, make me proud, - Remus encouraged, his voice was dripping honey, which, doubled with his constant praise and nimble fingers fucking into you so good, sent you right over the edge.

Your eyes rolled back at the intense feeling of raw pleasure spreading through your body in crashing waves, white stars filled your vision. Your hands were grabbing desperately onto Remus’ soft sweater, teeth sank into your bottom lip, trying your hardest to suppress all of sweet moans and cries.

Remus rode out your orgasm, never stopping to fuck his long fingers into your sweet pussy, his other hand rubbing your back and shoulders, whispering sweet nothing into your flushed ear. He only stopped when you started wriggling your hips, trying to get away from his now painful caressing against your overstimulated sex.

He carefully pulled his fingers out, bringing them up to his face and burying his sticky with your slick digits in his warm mouth, sucking and lapping at your juices with immense pleasure. You flushed deeply, smacking Remus’ chest playfully and muttering quiet ‘pervert’ under your breath, causing boy to chuckle airily. He put his now clean fingers away from his mouth, leaning forward to slant his wet lips over yours, kissing you long and lazily, completely taking your breath away.

You broke off first, silver string of saliva was connecting your mouths, Remus eyes shining prettily in a dim light. Your shaky hand came to tuck a string of his soft sandy hair behind his pierced ear, thumb caressing chiseled cheekbone affectionately. Remus leaned in to place yet another kiss on your pretty lips but was stopped half-way by loud cracking sound and heavy cussing:

- Holy fucking shit, Prongs! McGonagall’s gonna fucking skin us alive for this! - Sirius’ panicked, but still more excited voice shrieked, you rushed to put your underwear and pajama pants back on before peeking your head out of crimson curtains, curious to see what had happened.

In the center of a room James, Sirius and Peter were all standing looking extremely disheveled and panting heavily, pillows clutched tightly in their hands. They all were staring at the floor where you spotted a huge hole a size of a quaffle, loud ‘what the fuck’ coming from the inhabitants of a room below. You heard Remus groan behind you, string of heavy expletives rolling off his tongue as he scrambled out of bed, racking his brain for possible ways to fix the breakage without teachers being involved.

James caught your eyes, shrugging silently, keeping unnaturally quiet, not wanting to get on Remus’ nerves when he was so angry. Sirius standing beside him could barely suppress his laughter, clutching his pillow to his chest in attempt to ground himself in any way possible. Peter’s face was completely blank, eyes wandering all around the dorm as if nothing ever happened, swaying from side to side lightly.

At the end of a day, they managed to fix the hole in the floor and all three of them got a smack on the back of the head from extremely querulous Remus.

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated, they inspire me on creating even more content for you💖

[mrsjellymunson]

KNOCK AT THE CABIN | Part One

READ THE PROLOGUE HERE

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Written for @bettyfrommars , @allthingsjoeq and @somnambulic-thing ’s excellent Stranger Prompts event.

Series Summary: After the events of the previous months, everyone is shocked by the unexpected return of an old friend. But is it really him?

Chapter summary: It’s all hands on deck to try and help your unexpected visitor. You come up with an effective, if unexpectedly intimate, solution.

WC: ~4.41k

C/W: 🔞 18+, MDNI, NSFW, series CW for eventual Eddie Munson x fem!reader smut. Post-S4, Upside Down exists, dark/supernatural themes, descriptions of minor injuries, allusions to hypothermia.

A/N: This series contains a lot of themes and scenarios that I haven’t written for before, so I’d love to know what you think! Please comment and reblog, it means the world to writers, and reblogs mean work gets seen. This series has a taglist so if you’d like to be on either it, or my general list, just comment, ask or message, I’d love to have you on board 🙏💗 Also, I proofed this as much as I could but my brain isn’t braining very well at the moment so if you spot any errors please let me know 💙

My masterlist

Prologue

PART ONE

There, hunched, shivering, soaked and covered in mud, is your friend. The one who’d died saving the town. The one they’d buried only a few days ago, after he’d been lying on a slab in a lab somewhere for weeks.

Eddie.

The increasingly noisy wind blows leaves and the now-driving rain horizontally across the stoop. Inside the hallway, there’s silence.

You all stand at the door, mouths agape. Initially, none of you move.

You take in your visitor’s appearance. His hair is lank, wet with mud and rain and full of twigs and leaves. He stands, shoulders sagging, in filthy, soaked clothes, the wet material seeming to drag his frame down even further.

You glance down and notice he’s barefoot, his feet the same mid-brown mud colour as most of his clothing, other than where thin rivulets of scarlet run down his skin.

His cheeks are gaunt, his lips grey, not the plush, rosy pink that they always were. He looks thinner than you remember, and his skin was always pale, but it seems even lighter now, almost translucent.

His face is downcast, and he doesn’t make eye contact with any of you.

Dustin shoulders his way between you and Steve and takes his first good look at the strange visitor. At first he’s confused, incredulous, but this rapidly gives way to pure astonishment, as he yells over the sound of the rain, “Eddie? EDDIE!”

He starts to rush forwards, but Steve puts an arm out to stop him, protecting Eddie’s obviously frail and vulnerable state.

There’s murmuring and chattering and quiet squeals as everyone processes the sight before them.

None of you consider what events or twists of fate have brought him here, all of you only caring in this moment that he’s here. He's here! He’s here!

Eddie finally lifts his eyes to you all. They’re sunken, red-rimmed, and have lost their usual sparkle. They don’t seem to focus on anything in particular, and before any of you can work to bring him inside, he mumbles something that sounds a little like your name, sways a little and collapses, his knees connecting with the wood of the front stoop with a hollow thump.

Steve reacts first, stopping Eddie from falling sideways as he rushes forward, yelling, “Get him inside. Now!”

You hurry outside to help Steve whilst Robin opens the door fully and shoos the teens out of the way. Steve instructs you to grab under Eddie’s arm, and you both drag him inside.

You don’t have Steve’s lifeguarding or athletic skills and you’re not used to manhandling people, and you stumble over the threshold and flop backwards into the hallway. You end up sitting on your ass with Eddie half over your lap.

There’s a cacophony of confusion and the kids want to help, but they end up crowding you both. They want to touch Eddie, see if it’s really him, see what’s wrong.

The only ones who hang back are Will and Jane, you assume because although they’ve heard so much about him they don’t really know him. No one notices their somewhat tense demeanour, or the way they subtly keep glancing at one another.

Robin closes the door to keep out the weather, and out of the corner of your eye you see her covering her mouth with both hands.

You run a hand over Eddie’s form, checking for any obvious injuries. You spot his arms and hands are in a similar state to his feet, utterly filthy, with cracked and split nails and torn, bloody skin.

He’s bedraggled and shivering, has curled in on himself and is practically convulsing.

You speak above the clamour.

“Steve, he’s freezing! What do we do??”

Steve panics a little, pacing the hallway with one hand on his hip and raking the other through his hair. He makes a few incomprehensible noises before he remembers something, stopping suddenly and turning to face you. Clicking his fingers and pointing, he reminds you,

“Wait, didn’t you go on some outdoor survival course once, or something? At a summer camp? You told me about it when you got back. Something about how to help people who’ve fallen out of canoes into icy rivers? I remember because you were really sarcastic about it and said, ‘It was sooooo useful. I mean, I go kayaking all the time, right?’”

“Shit, you’re right. Fuck, fuck!”

Slowly, some of the information comes back to you.

“Okay, we have to warm him up, but it has to be gradual, though. There was something about too much heat too fast maybe causing shock?”

You start to panic, screwing up your face and trying to remember all the things they taught you. ”Oh fuck, think, think!”

Robin puts an arm around your shoulders as Steve says your name, softly, reassuring you that you’re doing great and that anything you can remember will be better than the absolutely nothing that any of the rest of them know. Give him a swimmer in difficulty or someone choking on a gumball at the video store and he’s in his element, but any of this outdoorsy stuff is way out of his comfort zone.

Suddenly and from nowhere your brain kicks into high gear. You remember some of the training, and start barking orders.

“Will, get blankets, lots of blankets. I remember something about hot, sweet drinks…” Eyes wide and flicking between the stunned people standing around you, you ask, “Which of you makes the best hot chocolate??”

Mike and Lucas state in unison, “Dustin!”

“Okay. Dustin, Jane, you go make hot chocolate. Make a lot of it, and make it really sweet”, figuring you could all use some, and that there’s likely to be more than one person suffering from shock this evening.

Turning to her, you say, “Robin, help me take his jacket off and hang it in the kitchen by the stove. Mike, help Will with the blankets. Steve, Lucas, help me get him into the living room, in front of the fire. And anybody and everybody, go get more wood!”

Robin crouches next to you, helping you to ease Eddie’s jacket from his trembling shoulders, glancing at you as she does so. You’re guessing your concerned expression is mirroring hers, but you don’t want the kids to see so you keep it between you.

She gets up and moves to the small kitchen, placing his sodden jacket over the back of a dining chair and setting it in front of the old but functional wood-fired oven (one place in the house that’s almost always warm).

Steve and Lucas help you move Eddie into the living room, where the open fire gets stacked high with fresh wood.

Robin brings a bowl of warm water and some washcloths, and you sit eddie between you, both cleaning mud from his face and gently bathing his damaged hands and feet.

Jane sits on the floor behind you. Initially reticent and hanging back, she’s now sitting nearer to Eddie, carefully removing some of the twigs from his hair with characteristic diligence and gentleness.

You make Eddie take sips of Dustin’s (frankly, excellent) hot chocolate, and make sure all the kids have got some before asking Dustin to bring mugs for you, Steve and Robin.

Once he’s a bit cleaner and has had almost a full cup of Dustin’s healing brew, you all gather cushions and lay Eddie down on his side, facing the fire. You try to get as much heat on his front as you can, but it doesn’t seem to be helping. He’s still trembling and his skin is blue and icy to the touch, and he seems to be getting drowsy. You can’t remember much more of your basic emergency training, but it’s enough to worry you. Something about sleeping or going unconscious being a Very Bad Thing…

He’s wrapped in the blankets Will and Mike brought, but you fear the wet clothes he’s still wearing may well be hampering your efforts.

You have another idea, not sure whether it’s the done thing or if you’ll be able to convince any of the others to help you but willing to try anything at this point. You say, to no one in particular, “This isn’t working. Can we get him into the bathtub?”

Your eyes look up and scan the room, flicking mainly between Robin and Steve, and to your immense relief you see everyone nodding, trying to figure out how to make this work.

Dustin’s the first to stand, and you hear his voice crack a little as he tries to say with confidence,

“Tell us what you need us to do.”

You nod at him, once, before beginning,

“Dustin, Will, can you run a bath? Make it warm, but definitely not hot. Mike, Lucas, get towels. Hurry!”

After a few minutes, Dustin and Will return, letting you know they’ve filled the tub with warm, but not hot, water. Steve and Lucas reprise their roles as patient transport, and start to move Eddie towards the small bathroom.

As you follow them and traverse the narrow hallway you glance at the weather hammering outside the window of the back door. Something seems off, and it’s only after a few moments of consideration that you realise the leaves and rain are travelling in the opposite direction to those at the front door. This doesn’t make sense - surely the storm should be pushing them all the same way? It’s almost like you’re currently somehow in the centre of a swirling storm…

You don’t have time to dwell on this as Steve calls to you, asking what they should do now. You hurry to the bathroom and see that Steve has balanced Eddie’s butt on the side of the tub.

You reply,

“We need to get him out of these wet things.”

Grunting as he shifts position, Steve nods once and barks to Lucas, “Hold him up.”

Lucas does his best to stabilise your almost-unconscious friend. Kneeling in front of him, Steve fusses with Eddie’s waistband, grunting, “Sorry, buddy, it’s for the best”, as he unceremoniously yanks off Eddie’s jeans. New-looking, unripped, black 501 jeans.

Relieved to see he’s wearing boxers, they both balance Eddie as they work to remove his shirt. His Hellfire shirt. He only had two. Okay, this is officially getting weird…

As Steve and Lucas work you start to strip off your clothes, ending up in just your underwear and bra. You don’t even care that they’re in the room, reasoning that not only have they all seen you in your bathing suit before, but also that this was definitely not the time for bashfulness or self-consciousness.

Steve asks you what you’re doing, and you explain that you’re getting in the bath with Eddie, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“Steve, he’s practically unconscious. You want him to slip under the surface and drown? Come on, let’s get him in here.”

Without waiting for any replies, you step into the water, relieved that the younger boys heeded your instructions and it is indeed warm, but not too hot. You wave your hands in vertical circles, as if it would bring Eddie closer faster.

The old bath is short, but wide, and you’re pretty sure you’ll both fit.

As the boys manhandle him you’re momentarily stunned as you see the outlines of Eddie’s ribs and shoulder blades brought into stark relief by the harsh lights of the room. But you’re jolted back to reality as you hear Steve grunting a little as he starts to manoeuvre Eddie’s legs into the water.

You help Steve and Lucas to get Eddie in, slowly lowering him in case even this is too much of a shock. You slide down behind him and sit with him between your legs, supporting him with his back against your chest. You rub his arms gently, and murmur, “Oh fuck, oh fuck. Please warm up, Eddie. Please.”

Gesturing to your now-muddy garb and Eddie’s discarded garments, you ask, to nobody in particular, “Can someone get these clothes in the washer?”

Lucas bundles them up in his arms and heads towards the door, calling for Robin’s assistance. Steve thanks him as he leaves and closes the door, staying in with you and Eddie.

The water comes up around your mid torso. You use your hand to slosh the warm water around Eddie’s upper chest, but eventually decide that’s not enough.

You use a small jug that you and Robin use for hair washing to run warm water over Eddie’s skin, gently trying to warm him, but also carefully working to remove what mud and detritus that you can. He still feels cold to the touch, but after quite a few nerve wracking minutes he appears to be shivering less.

You and Steve share concerned glances, and Steve comforts you as you comfort Eddie, crouching down and reaching over the side of the tub to stroke your shoulder, reassuring you, telling you that you’re doing good, that this is helping.

Eddie sighs a little as you run water through his hair and down his torso, picking out the leaves left from Jane’s efforts and throwing them onto the floor.

Though it’s still cool, and preternaturally pale, Eddie’s skin seems to have warmed a little.

Hearing chattering and commotions outside, Steve stands, and you can tell he wants to check on what chaos might be transpiring in the rest of the house.

“I’m gonna go check on the others. Will you be okay here for a few minutes?”

“Of course. I’ll call if I need anything.”

“Okay, good. Just make sure you do. I’ll be back soon.”

Steve gives you a small smile as he exits, leaving you two alone in the tub.

After the door closes you allow yourself a moment of pure self-indulgence and close your eyes, enjoying the feeling of Eddie’s body pressed against your own. His back nestles against your chest, his spine between your breasts. His pelvis is slotted between your thighs, and you can feel the jut of his hips and his coolness on the delicate skin there. There’s a subtle pressure on your centre, but you try your best to ignore it.

You tilt your head forward a little, just enough to rest your nose amongst Eddie’s wet tresses, and run your hands gently down the outside of his arms. Not necessarily to clean or warm them this time, but just to feel them. To feel him.

The circumstances are so far from ideal, but part of you can’t help but revel in this proximity, this intimacy. You always wanted to be like this with Eddie, to have this closeness, but you didn’t think he’d ever want the same with you. You indulge yourself further and start to daydream, imagining it’s just you and him, that it’s a lazy weekend, and you’re enjoying a bath together just for the fun of it. Maybe you’re in your own shared apartment, the sun is bright outside and the scent of summer flowers is drifting in through your open window. No worries, no dramas, just you and Eddie, and the only thing on your minds is the promise of a romantic evening together.

A noise outside the room, possibly something clattering in the kitchen, breaks your trance. Taking a deep breath and looking up again, you shake yourself out of your reverie. Wanting to take full advantage of the warm water whilst you still can, you take a chance and lean back against the sloped end of the bathtub, taking Eddie with you, submerging you both a little more. You continue to use one hand to scoop warm water over Eddie’s shoulders and collarbones, occasionally running your fingers over his chest and throat.

You use your other hand to run your fingers through his wet hair, and as you stroke him he turns his head to one side and nuzzles ever so slightly under your chin. His breathing is regulating, and he’s even humming a little. The physical pressure of his body resting between your legs is increased, but you manage to keep your focus on the matter at hand.

After a few more minutes Eddie’s hands seem to warm and regain a little function. He stills the movements of your hand on his chest and clumsily interlaces his fingers with yours, gripping as tightly as he’s able as a couple of fat tears run down his cheeks. He’s still not able to talk, but just by his actions he’s telling you so much.

You hum into the top of his head,

“It’s okay, Eddie. I’m here. You’re with us now. You’re safe.”

You feel him relax a tiny bit more.

You sit in stillness for a few more long minutes, and, using the opportunity to observe him further, you notice more changes.

He was always wiry, but his muscles had a soft bulk beneath his ivory skin. Now, they’re solid and taut, and you can almost see striations running their length. The skin stretched over them is thinner, and the healthy layer of subcutaneous fat is completely gone.

As well as his altered skin tone and skinnier, but somehow also more muscled, physique, you notice the angry silver and red marks in his skin. Sharp, starburst patterns that look like chunks of his flesh have been ripped out of him.

Of course, they were.

You shudder at the memory of the altercation with the demobats, watching Eddie bleed out, dragging him through the gate but none of you able to do anything to save him.

You so want to know what happened to him after you were all whisked away in ambulances and trucks and black SUVs. You’re sure you saw him bundled into a black body bag, lifted into one of the Hawkins National Laboratory vans, but where he went after that you had no idea.

Wanting to be closer to him, and inveterately curious, carefully, so carefully, you run a fingertip over one of the scars on his neck.

He tenses, and flinches slightly.

Okay, we’re not doing that just yet.

You both sit in the stillness for another little while, and the bath water begins to cool. Before you could call him for help, Steve comes back in to check on you both.

When he’s satisfied that neither of you have drowned, you check in and ask how everyone else is doing. Usually, when they stay over, the kids sleep on the floor in the living room in their sleeping bags. Steve lets you know that for tonight, Robin’s decided to sleep on the sofa in there with them. She says it’s for company, or reassurance, or whatever, definitely not because she’s at all freaked out and not wanting to sleep alone. He tells you the kids have enthusiastically agreed, that Robin’s calming them, placating their rampant questions and desires to see Eddie, and is managing to get them to at least lie down, even if they don’t sleep. You and Steve are supremely grateful.

As confident as you both can be that the immediate emergency is tackled, and with the bath water continuing to cool around you, you’re aware that you and Steve need to think about practicalities, and discuss quite what you’re going to do next.

Steve’s the first to broach the subject, drumming his fingers lightly on the side of the bath as he checks Eddie over once more and says,

“So, uh, what’re we gonna do with him now?”

Remembering more of your rudimentary training, you decide to make another unusual request.

“Well, uh… This is probably gonna sound kinda weird, but…”

“What? What is it?”

“Well, I remember something from the training that said body heat is the best thing for warming someone up. Like, consistent, reliable body heat.”

You pause to assess Steve’s response. His brow is slightly furrowed and he’s looking a little pensive, but he nods for you to continue.

“And there was something about how skin to skin contact is even better. So, I mean I totally get it if you don’t wanna do this, but I thought I’d we could maybe get him into a bed and then sleep either side of him. Like maybe even spoon him or something… I dunno, I guess this sounds pretty crazy…”

You shake your head and look down into the tub, noticing that your fingers are still laced with Eddie’s, and he’s gripping your hand like he doesn’t want to let go.

“No, uh…” Steve clears his throat. “Y’know, I can totally see how that would work. Uh, okay, uh yeah, I guess we could do that.”

He gives you a half smile, his other hand running down his cheek, as he processes what he’s just agreed to.

The one-storey cabin has three bedrooms. A single, one with a double bed and one with a king. Steve, the tallest out of the three of you and, apparently, the most likely to starfish, got the king, whilst Robin opted for the coziness of the single (the one with the good view), leaving you with the double. The only sources of heating in the cabin, other than the open fire and the stove, are two clunky old electric heaters, which you try not to use too often, and if you're honest are a little scared of. Steve runs hot so he insisted you and Robin had one each in your rooms.

After a few more moments of deliberation Steve seems to have made a plan in his head. Nodding to himself, he stands, and says,

“Well, my bed’s the biggest, so I guess we’ll go in there. I’ll get the boys to move the electric heater from your room for extra warmth. And don’t even think about telling me no. I’m fine to overheat for one night if it helps Eddie, okay?”

He gives you a kind smile as he goes to leave the room, and you give him a relieved one in return. That was actually far less awkward than you thought it was going to be, and you’re thankful that you and Steve now have a plan.

You dislodge the plug with your foot and start to drain the bath, sluicing as much of the mud and detritus down the plug hole as you can, and Steve returns to help Eddie to stand and get out. You both dry him off, wet boxers notwithstanding, and do what you can to blot some of the dampness from his hair. While Steve holds Eddie up, you give a cursory wipe to your shoulders and feet and wrap a large towel around your middle, figuring the most pressing matter now is getting Eddie into bed.

Eddie shuffles from the bathroom to Steve’s room, supported between the two of you. He’s still not speaking, and can only manage a few moans and whimpers as you manoeuvre him. You see the kids peering intently at you all from the living room, and they seem comforted by the fact that Eddie’s at least upright and making noises.

You sit him on the edge of Steve’s bed, and as Steve bustles around the room getting the heater set up you examine Eddie’s injuries again. The scrapes and cuts on his hands and feet look raw and painful, but not deep, and they’ve stopped bleeding. And you’re relieved to see that he doesn’t seem to have any other injuries. Not fresh ones, at least…

You ask Steve if he can loan Eddie some dry clothes for the morning, and he chooses a few things from the drawers across the room.

You help Eddie to lie down in the middle of the mattress, whilst Steve lifts his legs onto the bed and pulls a sheet over him. Brandishing the clean boxers he’s retrieved, Steve says, in his best Team Captain voice, “Okay, we need to change these. Sorry again, buddy, but it’s for the best.”

Steve manages to change Eddie’s underwear under the covers, explaining it’s for his modesty, as Eddie grumbles but doesn’t resist.

Steve turns around whilst you dry off and change into the fresh underwear Robin delivered for you, and you slide under the covers and sit at the headboard as Steve does the same on the other side.

Eddie’s breathing is more regular, and he’s no longer shivering, so you feel safer now letting him drift into sleep. You move some strands of drying hair from his cheeks, and gently stroke the side of his face. Steve gives you a moment before pulling the comforter up and placing extra blankets on top of you all.

In the quiet, you notice that the wind and rain have died down, leaving only the hum of the heater and the delicate, rhythmic patter of drizzle on the window as the soundtrack to your evening. It’s oddly comforting.

You move down under the covers, and as the two of you organise the blankets and start to settle around Eddie, you say in a low voice,

“Thanks, Steve. You’re a true friend.”

He responds, kindly,

“Hey, I’m not the one who just got into a muddy bath with him and pulled half a tree out of that jungle he calls his hair. I think that title most definitely belongs to you.”

You snort quietly at Steve’s observation as you snuggle into the bed. You both encourage Eddie to turn so his front is against your back, feeling his cool skin down the length of you, as Steve slots himself around his back, pulling up the covers and turning off the bedside lamp as he goes.

In the darkness you reach behind you and pull one of Eddie’s arms across your torso. You clutch his hand to your chest, wrapping both of yours around it, telling yourself it’s to warm him up, but knowing deep down it’s because you desperately want to feel him around you, and imagine he’s holding you.

You feel his breathing regulate, puffing rhythmic exhales against your neck. As exhausted as you are, a million questions still run through your mind. So many unknowns, whats, whys and hows.

What happened? Where’s he been? Why is he dressed in the clothes you guys picked out to bury him in? Does Owens know about this? What the fuck is going on?

All you know for sure is two things:

One, you’d do anything to keep Eddie safe.

And two, tomorrow is going to be a very, very interesting day…

ICYMI, the Prologue is here

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this part.

Comments and reblogs keep writers writing, I’d love to hear from you.

My masterlist

I now have taglists for ‘everything’ and for each of my ongoing series, let me know if you’d like to be included!

Taglist (open): @joejoequinnquinn @jamdoughnutmagician @ali-r3n @eddiemunsonshandcuffs @jasminelafleur @corrodedcoffincumslut @kthomps914 @iletmytittiestitty-russ @findmeincorneliastreet @tlclick73 @sapphire4082 @razzeith @cupid-club @storiesbyrhi @eris-rose-86 @micheledawn1975 @bl0ssomanddie @veemoon @sunshinepeachx @writinginthetwilight @curlyjoequinn @madaboutmunson @airen256

Extra tags: I’ve rather presumptuously tagged everyone who enjoyed or reblogged previous parts, just let me know if you’d rather I didn’t! @nicolothy @mmunsonsstuff @songforeddiemunson @kookygranger @lovingonthemoon @elegantkoalapaper @fanfics-i-find-here @the-unforgivenn

[iloveyouinred]

Yandere!Kaveh x Broken Heart!Reader

𓇬♡ | Warning: NSFW, slight angst at the start, kidnapping, drugging, noncon, creampie, reader is being tied, reader hasn't go through the formal divorce setting but.. nothing holding you back, etc.

𓇬♡ | Word Count: 1.2K

You thought, you won't move away from him for the longest time. Your husband is the prettiest man you know. You were a pair since childhood, and became one in highschool. It was a long happy relationship. Although all that time you spend with him, he shares it with his side bitch too. The moment you found him fucking that blonde hair girl, you don't say a thing. Not even a gasp escapes your mouth as the unrealistic view of your perfect match, your sweet husband, too busy fucking other woman to realize his wife standing at the door, watching them with face as white as ghost.

For the first time since you love him, you feel a crack in your heart. It grows uncontrollably fast, leaving a hollow space in your chest. You cried for hours on the fastest flight that you booked randomly to Sumeru.

"At time like this, a glass of wine always helps." Is what he always said everytime one of you meets any stalemate in the workplace. Teasing your dislike of its bitter taste. Yet you don't complain when he takes you to the bar, because it was his favourite. You still can't understand why men love this bitter drink. You take another sip before gulping down the second glass, trying to understand the reason behind his betrayal as you savour the bitter liquid.

"I hope I die in my sleep." You said with a smile while throwing a blank gaze at the surface of the red liquid.

"Ah, I really hope you don't. I was hoping to familiarize myself with you." A man that just sat down beside you said that in a sad tone, as he put a glass of pink cocktail on the table in front of you. Half of his blonde hair pinned back with a pretty blue feather adorning his hair, with eyes curved down hiding his pair or scarlet orb. You smile ironically. If you were not in this state you might have been captivated by his charming face. Yet here you are.. unable to return the same enthusiasm he shared with you. You take the glass he offers, and chug it down in one take. He watches as the liquid goes down your throat, still with his smile. The stranger that offered drinks to you was seriously great at embracing your melancholy. You would say he is the greatest empath that can even mourn with you at your pet's funeral. While you are busy talking about this and that with him, not keeping count of how many glasses of wine you have consumed. By the time midnight falls, you were already helplessly drunk by how much alcohol was in your system.

"I am Kaveh by the way, can I have your name?" He asks while guiding you to the bar entrance, after putting bags of coins at tables as he talk about something to the bartender.

"...Where are we going?" Your indistinct speech makes it hard to understand what you were saying. He chuckled, seeing how drunk you were. A frown formed on your face upon noticing your blurry sight. Your eyes were unable to focus, but you didn't miss the way his smile widened, almost ecstatic. Yet your eyelid weighs down on you as he sweeps you off your feet, carrying you in his hand.

"You will make a great decoration." He states as you succumb to unbearable drowsiness.

Kaveh loves to decorate his and Alhaitham's home. Pretty decorations always make the place look better. He collected many beautiful vases, paintings, even a pretty little trinket as he travelled. But none of it beats what he found at the tavern last night. A beautiful girl, looking up at him while sucking his cock. Your hand tied behind your back, body bound by rope and pink ribbons. Your sight is unfocused, unaware of what is happening. The last thing you remember is the strange liquid he forced you to take this morning, when you wake up fully naked on his bed. Your brain can not digest the view of your captor in front of you using your mouth to relieve his hard cock.

Your mind feels clouded as your nose stuff with his smell. Heat forming on your lower abandonment. You can feel your own wetness making a mess on your thigh. He cursed as he grabbed your hair, moving your head to bobbed down around his length deeper. You choked back a moan, letting out a muffled sound which made him throw his head to the back. He trembles as the pleasure wash over him. You feel the warm liquid flow down your throat, unable to throw up as he shove his length deep in there. You cough frantically as he pulls out, letting you catch a breath with face flaming red and jaw sore by how long he fuck your mouth.

"Perfect." He cooed at your teary face. His hand cupping your cheek.

You feel him lifting up your stranded body to the couch with your face down on the soft surface, ass facing him from this angle. Kaveh can't help but rub his fingers against your clit, earning a choked moan from you. Two fingers slid easily in your cunt and he happily hummed at how wet you were. He licks his finger that was glistening with your cum while positioning his cock to kiss your pussy lips. He slid it a few times before entering your hole slowly. You can hear him groaning in your ear, whispering curses at the way your hole tightens around his length. His body pressed down on your back as he shoved his length in your gummy walls. Moans slip off your lips as he keeps on hitting the deep spots inside you. Soon stars clouding your sight as your body trembled, cumming just from a few snap of his hips into yours.

It might be the drug that makes your body hopelessly chasing for pleasure, as you start meeting his thrust. He slapped your ass hard enough to leave a red imprint. Mumbling something about what a whore you are, moving your hips for a stranger. Still his thrust grows faster and deeper each second you helplessly moan under him, until he spills his cum in you. Warm liquid pooled under your leg while he turned your body to face him, giving you a deep passionate kiss as he sucked your tongue. Your eyes roll back as you feel he is inside you again. Eagerly thrusting his cum back into your hole. You don't remember how many times you came, but by the time he reach his third climax you were already too fuck out to conherent a proper word. He clicked his tongue at the mess he made. You won't realize he was gone for a second to grab some stuff, if not by the feeling of a warm towel wiping your body.

"I really want to give you a bath.. but Alhaitham will be home soon." Kaveh said while brushing your hair and giving you a quick peck on the cheek. You don't understand what he is saying though, he keeps on rambling while knowing that.

"Be on your best behaviour okay?" He tied the ribbon in your hair and placed you on the couch, head down with ass facing the house entrance. Your body is still trembling. Your mind was filled with the feeling of Kaveh's warm cum in your womb that slowly seeped out, dripping down the couch. Unaware of the sound of the door opening.

Part 2| Part 3

[shapard]

hi shepard, i dont normally do this, but i really like your wrighting and i was wondering if you did requests if you could do a lucifer x hellborn!reader where its just a lot of comfort, like the reader lost someone really close to them or something. if not, then no worries, dont feel pressured or anything 💛

Scarlet

Lucifer x hellborn!reader

A/n: I never really said that I do request but I'm really happy if I get one. So, no Worries<3 I hope it's okay That I put a little Angst into it.

Soft Lucifer, comfort, Angst

Words can not describe what you feel right now.

Your heart is pumping so loud in your chest as you read the red ink on the white Paper. You don’t want to believe it. It seems impossible. But it’s standing here red on white that your precious mother has passed away in a gang battle of those damn sinners. 

Your tears soften the paper and the red ink smeared the down written words. Your body starts to shake under the pressure of anxiety. 

Lucifer was out on a meeting with the other six sins.

At first he didn’t even want to go on a meeting knowing that your mental health wasn’t on its best shape. The panic attacks were way viler when he was not there. 

Nonetheless you told him you were fine, and he will go to this meeting. He was hiding all those years and you’ll not be in the way of a reunion. 

At first you were doing alright. Watching your comfort movie with your comfort snack was relaxing.

Your pajama was comfortable and your favorite plush was seated on your belly. You giggled at your favorite scene and hugged your plushie more on you.

A loud knocking hollowed through the huge Mainor you now call home. Lucifer didn’t tell you; he was expecting something. Confused you pressed on pause and walked down the hall. Your tail tangled itself on your leg hoping for some comfort. 

As you opened those huge doors a small Imp, just like you. He gave you a black Envelope with your name in white ink. The Imp gave you a slight bow and left fast. 

You walked down the hall back to the bedroom. You opened the black envelope and read the content.

Now you were at the verge of a panic attack. 

Sweat pearling down your forehead and you rolled into a small ball on the floor. The papier laid on the red carpet and you are right next to it.

Your tail was wrapped around you, yet it didn’t help you to feel connected to your body. You shook hard but all you could focus about was your mind running.

Memories of your lovely mother, the one who read stories to you at night to cradle you. 

The way she smiled at you when you told her you were in love. How she told you she’s so proud of you. How he held your hand through your marriage. 

And now she’s gone. 

Killed brutally like the Imp she was. Like the Imp you are. Another proof that no one cares about the life of an Imp.

The ringing in your head just seems to get louder, louder, and louder. Clutching your hands on your head trying to ease the painful headache that had begun.

Your breathing was starting to get heavier and heavier, it got to the point where you thought you couldn’t breathe anymore.

A hand pulled you out of your curled form pressing you on his chest. You immediately recognize that this is your husband.

Lucifer whispers in your ear and stroked your back in a comforting matter. He cradled your body and kissed your cheek multiple times.

“Everything is okay, I’m here. Just take a deep breath in... And out.” You followed his instructions. In and out. Your hand grasp around his torsi pulling him even closer.

The oxytocin was filling your lungs again and your broken cries filled the air. 

Even after-hours Lucifer never let go.

Lucifer doesn't know what happened that cost this state, but all he knows is that you need him. And that's exactly what he's going to do.

Lucifer carried you up to your sharing bed when your light snoring reached his ears. He hugged you close shutting his eyes, grabbing your waist tightly making you feel protective.

______

You rubbed your eyes exhausted from the panic attack yesterday.

As you spun around to look at your husband, Lucifer wasn’t beside you. Again the anxiety filled your ribcage, it was hard to breath.

“Lucifer?!” The door of your shared bedroom sprung open reveling your husband in one of those silly aprons he has. Your body quickly relaxed at the sight of him.

“Darling you’re awake!” His smile was precious and contagious. He moved rather fast towards you, and he stumbled. With grace he caught your breakfast and smiled nervously at you. “I made for you breakfast!” You laughed at his antics and took it out of his hands.

You gave him a peck on the lips and sat down on the bed. Lucifer followed you to the bed but didn't sit down.

Lucifers eyes sparkled when you ate his food. But frowned slightly when you suddenly stopped eating and played with the food.

With a sigh be plopped beside you. “Babe,” He placed the tray on the nightstand and intertwined your hands in his. “You know you can tell me everything.” You nod as you looked on your intertwined hand watching as he strokes his thumb on your hand. His clawed nail tapped on your shared ring.

“Look me in the face, darling.” His other hand moved your head upwards and your e/c orbs meet his red scarlet ones.

Without much thought you gave him the letter you received yesterday. He released your chin and took the letter out of your hand. Lucifers eyes left yours hesitant and he skips through the information. 

His hands clenched around yours in a comforting way after he finished. “Y/n I’m so sorry. I…” He took a deep breath and pressed you again onto his chest. “Everything will be alright darling.”

Your crying was breaking his heart. But letting out emotion is better than letting them eat you up. He knows it the best.

You two had almost a whole spa day.

Lucifer took care of you perfectly, just everything you needed.

His hand in yours like he promised in the wedding. Through thick and thin. The whole day, it was just you and him with pure affection. 

Lucifer and you were cuddled up on your couch. Your head was resting on his lap, and he played with your hand strands. “I Love you, Y/n Morningstar.” He said and pecked your lips. “I love you too, Lucifer Morningstar.”

A/n: I hoped you enjoyed what I wrote❤️

💫

@i-have-no-life-charlie @sirenetheblogger @concentratedconcrete @ylovei @cimadreamer @ayanazoldyck @froggybich

If you want to be added click on Taglist

[stellariah]

foolish heart, common tongue — Mammon x reader

⊹ word count: 1.8k ⊹ content: sfw, slightly suggestive, fluff to angst to fluff again, light marking (love bites), Mammon is a little possessive but not in a creepy way, Mammon calls you "sunshine", reader/MC is referred to as you/your. ⊹ warnings: none. ⊹ a/n: hi. I love Mammon. Sorry for making him sad here.

Mammon thought he was in love with the sun. He has been trying to convince himself that is why his heart feels so hollow.

It was the way that its rays shimmered and danced along your sleeping frame in the early morning.

Your little snores and sighs had stirred him awake. He woke up disoriented, still not entirely believing that you were really there—that he was really there. But there you both were, tangled in your soft sheets and the warmth of each others’ embraces in your bed in the Human World.

He spent a long time just watching you sleep, the sunbeams shifting from a gentle orange to pale amber to a vibrant yellow as the minutes slipped by. They paint your skin and hair like a canvas. A living, breathing work of art.

It was the way that its rays sparkled in your irises, making them glisten like tiny pools of molten gold, as you blinked away the sleep. You shined brighter than a pile of a million Grimm—more than any gem or jewel or coin he’s ever seen.

It was the way that its warmth made your skin feel beneath his lips as he made a trail from your chest to your neck, to your cheeks to your lips, to fully wake you up. He loved the way your heated skin tingled his lips.

You giggled at first, still in a sleepy stupor. But as his lips travelled higher and higher, your laughter faded to soft whimpers. When you moaned his name and thread your fingers in his hair, he thought his heart would beat out of his chest. He craved you. He was greedy for you.

“Good morning, Mamms,” you sighed, your eyes fully opened.

“Mornin’, my sunshine.”

You pulled him into a searing kiss, lips to lips, and your sun-warmed hands traced along the marks on his chest. He was so lost in your touch that he didn’t feel you flip him over. You were stunning wrapped up in your sheets, but somehow you're even more so with your smiley face above him, illuminated by the sun.

It was the way the faint pinky-reds and oranges and purples of the sunset sky illuminated the love bite he made on your neck as you made dinner that evening.

The mark itself was faint on your skin, but the sunset streaming through the kitchen window streaked the tender punctures with its inky plum, lush coral, and soft scarlet. He glided his fingers along the expanse of your neck, narrowly avoiding a swat from the spoon in your hand, feeling the tiny indents and watching the colours shift as he disturbed the rays. He lowered his head to trace it with his lips and tongue as he tugged the fabric of your shirt down to reveal more of your skin—of his marks on his human—to his greedy fingers and mouth.

“Mammon, I’m trying to cook,” you chided, trying and failing to wiggle your way out of his grasp.

“I can’t help it. I need ya.”

“You always need me.”

“Never,” he whispered, pressing another kiss to your skin between your newly exposed shoulder blades. “Enough.”

“You’re insatiable, you know that?” you laughed as you spun around in his hold, flicking the stove off as you went.

“Maybe you should stop making it so easy to love ya.”

“Mammon,” you said, as you cupped his face in your hands. He leaned into your touch, nuzzling his nose along your palm. “I want you to love me.”

It was the way that the sun was gone when his heart was ripped from his chest.

He knew that he and his brothers could not stay in the Human World forever. But, when the night of their departure came, he didn’t expect that you would be staying.

You told him it was to continue studying with Solomon and developing your magical abilities. He thought that was bullshit. You could keep studying in the Devildom. You argued. He yelled. You cried. He cried, too, because there was no way he could change your mind.

The moon shone across your face as he stepped towards the portal that would take him home. He hates the moon for making him see you so sad.

He watched as you hugged each of his brothers, exchanging whispered promises to stay in touch and make it home safely as they stepped one by one through the portal. He watched as your face crumpled when you stepped towards him. He still couldn’t believe that you were not coming with him. How was he supposed to leave you here?

“Mammon, I love you,” you cried as you wrapped him in your arms.

And like the coward he is, he pulled himself from your embrace and stepped into the portal without a word. He watched you fall to your knees, sobs wracking your body, before you disappeared.

He’s awake with a jolt—his head colliding with his textbook—and you’re not there. There’s no sun either.

He had fallen asleep in class again. It’s been months of this recurring nightmare. As he rubs his eyes, he smears fallen tears across his cheekbones. The pages he has fallen asleep on are wet and warped.

He doesn’t miss the sun. He doesn’t love the sun. It’s always been you. He loves you, but he’s ruined everything.

“Is it the same dream again?” Satan asks quietly from the desk beside him.

He just nods refusing to raise his head. He didn’t need to explain his tears anymore. His brothers all knew. Asmodeus casts a knowing look from across the classroom and Leviathan pats his shoulder as he exits. Mammon wants the ground to swallow him whole.

He manages to gather his books and exit the classroom, but his feet just won’t work the way they should. He stumbles several times as he tries to get down the hallway to his next class. After tripping again and slamming into a set of lockers, he resigns, weary frame and broken heart finally crushing him to the ground. Mammon curls himself into a ball and sobs until sleep finally takes him.

The next time he wakes, Mammon is in his room in the House of Lamentation. He doesn’t know how he got there. Honestly, he really doesn’t care. His bed is comforting and your sweater he has wrapped around his pillow still smells faintly of you.

He opens a bleary eye to quickly check his D.D.D. There’s a text from Beel letting him know that he and Lucifer found him and carried him back to his room and that Belphie was coming to check on him. He stamps out a quick “thanks” and then tucks his nose among the threads of your sweater. He tries to fall asleep again, but an incessant banging on his door disrupts him as soon as his eyes get heavy.

“Who's banging on my door?! Get lost!”

“Mammon, it’s me,” Belphie calls from the other side, the wood panel muffling him. “I think you are gonna want to come out here.”

“Oi, I said fuck off! I’m tryna sleep!”

The door splitters against the wall with the force Belphegor uses to fling it open. The sound of the wood cracking and the flood of hallway light make Mammon dizzy.

“Belphie, I ain’t telling ya again. Get out,” he warns, but his youngest brother persists, yanking him from his bed. Mammon hisses, but it does nothing to dissuade Belphegor.

“You’re coming with me. Stop being a baby,” he scolds as he carries Mammon out of his room.

“Oi, I’m not a-”

His retort dies in his throat at the sight of you down the corridor. Your hair has gotten longer and your eyes are blown wide, but it's you. His human.

He’s dreaming still—he has to be. There is no way that you’re here. Mammon pinches his arm and rubs his eyes as Belphegor sets him on his feet.

“It’s not a dream, Mammon,” Lucifer says from somewhere behind him.

There is no sun in the Devildom, but he has never felt warmer or brighter than he does right now, watching his soulmate run to reach his waiting arms. As soon as you are within reach, he grabs you, pulling you tight against his chest and nuzzling his face along your neck.

“Sunshine,” he sobs, voice broken but so full. “You’re here. You’re really here.”

“I’m sorry for being away for so long.”

“When do ya have to go back?”

“Mammon, I’m not going back.”

“What?”

“I’m not going back. At least not for any extended period of time. Being away for that long was torture.”

“You’re telling me,” he chuckles as you swat his chest playfully.

By the next breath, he has you up off your feet and in his room, slamming the fractured door behind him to muffle the cries of protest from his brothers.

“What happened to the-”

“Ah, Belphie got angry 'cause I wasn’t coming out and broke it,” he replies before dropping you unceremoniously on the bed. With a brief incantation and a swish of your wrist, the door is as good as new and the sounds from the corridor cease entirely.

“What did ya do?”

“Magic,” you laugh as you wag your fingers in the air. “So we can have some time alone, if that’s okay?”

“I love you,” Mammon blurts out, as your expression morphs from giddiness to pensiveness as you wait for him to continue. “Sunshine, I was a coward. I can’t believe I didn’t say it to ya back before I left. I’m so sorry. I love you. I’ll love ya forever.”

“Mammon, you’re not a coward. We should have talked more about my stay. It was my fault.” Mammon shakes his head and you sigh. You’re just as stubborn as he is.

“Now get your ass over here. We have months of cuddles to make up.”

He is in your embrace again in an instant. He missed the feeling of your body wrapped around him—the smell of your shampoo as he lays kiss after kiss on your forehead, along your cheeks, and down your neck. When he finally reaches your lips, you’re crying and he wipes at your tears with the pads of his thumbs.

“I love you, Mammon. More than anything. And I’m not going anywhere without you again.”

Though the Devildom was dark and sunless, he has existed here for millennia without some burning star. He has his sunshine in his arms, and this time, he is never letting you go.

©stellariah 2024 | do not copy, repost, translate, or feed my work to AI

[absntlvrs]

[ character list ]

˗ˏˋ ✦ :: favs r italicized !

000. dbd killers

the trapper

the wraith

the huntress

the ghost face

the doctor

the legion [only frank!]

the artist

the pig

the cenobite

the executioner

the shape

the knight

the singularity

001. dbd survivors

dwight fairfield

nea karlsson

feng min

kate denson

yui kimura

leon kennedy

ada wong

mikaela reid

jeff johansen

vittorio toscano

quentin smith

gabriel soma

ellen ripley

002. gravity falls

stanford pines

stanley pines

bill cypher

003. stranger things

steve harrington

nancy wheeler

jonathan byers

robin buckley

eddie munson

004. scarlet hollow

stella richmond

avery belle

kaneeka forsyth

reese kelly

oscar gutierrez

wayne

dr. joan kelly

005. scream

stu macher

billy loomis

sidney prescott

006. twd

rick grimes

daryl dixon

glenn rhee

maggie greene

michonne hawthorne

007. ozark

ruth langmore

wyatt langmore

008. on the edge

jonathan breech

rachel row

toby

009. the x-files

fox mulder

dana scully

010. misc

jonathan crane [dark knight trilogy]

corey cunningham [halloween ends]

jerry dandrige [fright night 1985]

[marsipan0]

Hey! Can you do the 🔥(at a point after the week with an established relationship) reese getting overstimulated and shifting a bit, ears, tail, claws, ect. But continuing letting you do your thing, consent and such prompt from your prompt list? -Donanony

18+ only, smut under the cut

Reese had seemed more stressed than usual this week, and it could have been anything from a deadline to art block. You wanted to do something to do something to help him. So, you did. You cooked him a nice dinner consisting of liver, potato salad, and collard greens. You were able to wear him down enough to find out what had been weighing on him, memories. Memories of Scarlet Hollow, the cursed place. You were so glad to get him out, so glad you were able to get your friends to leave, to start fresh and continue on with life, away from that place. But you needed to focus, figure out how to help, you needed to help, you couldn’t bear seeing him so hurt and stressed.  You did what you did best, you offered a distraction. But he couldn’t focus on the movie and his art wasn’t up to his usual standard, he wasn’t able to bury his thoughts with paint this time around, so you asked him, in a way that couldn’t be confused with any other, if you could distract him in a different way. His breath caught in his throat, but he agreed, face blazing. You pressed your hands under his shirt, against his cold stomach. He was shaking, eyes blown wide as he watched every one of your movements. Your hands moved to pull his shirt off of him exposing his figure, slightly more filled out than when the two of you were in the clinic. His ears began to prick up and extend a bit, something most wouldn’t have noticed, but you knew his tells.  You tugged him closer, tucking a few fingers around the rim of his pants to bring him chest to chest with you. He brought his shaking hands to your rest on your shoulders and against your neck. You hummed, feeling the slight movements of his hands. You pressed one of your hands in between the two of you gently pushing him back as you moved forward, pressed together. His knees bumped against the bed behind him, much closer than he thought it was. He fell back onto the bed, sitting there, staring up at you, barely breathing as you moved your hand to cup his cheek, brushing a loose strand of hair away to gaze at him better. Your hand, still pressed to his chest, pushed him to lay down before you moved to your bedside table, making sure everything was ready for afterwards.  He laid there, staring at you with those beautiful blue grey eyes, his breathing sharper and a little less even. You paused. You needed to make sure he was comfortable with doing this, you didn’t want to hurt or upset him. He confirmed with you, he wanted this, he was just a little jittery. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, moving back towards him, shifting his knees to stand in between his legs. You lean over him, placing your hands on the bed, bracing yourself, before you press a chaste kiss to his lips. You leaned back, then reached towards his pants finicking with the button a little before meeting his eyes and reconfirming what he wanted. he gave a shaky nod and a small smile, adoring how much care you took to make him comfortable, to let him know he wasn’t trapped and could make his own decisions.  With your actions reconfirmed, you moved with a skill neither of you anticipated, unbuttoning and unzipping his pant, tugging them down and letting them drop to the ground, exposing his boxers and tent. You moved to put his boxer with his pants, fully releasing his dick. You move to hover over him again, wanting to give him another kiss. One hand pressed into the bed, allowing you to balance as pressed another, longer kiss to his lips, other hand moving to his dick, leaning back a little to trace your nail across it, making him let out a shuddering gasp and a shaky moan of your name. The smile spreading across your lips more feral then the ones before, delight making your eyes light up. You were going to make him make more of those delicious sounds. You leaned back fully before dropping to your knees in front of him, grasping his dick and brushing a thumb across the tip of it. The high-pitched squeak and slight shake of his legs telling you just how sensitive he was. You move to pump him a few times before pressing your lips to the base before slowly, almost teasingly, dragging your tongue up to the tip. You press your tongue flat against the top before opening you mouth and moving as far down as you could before he was pressed against the back of your throat. You look up at him with teary eyes. He had sat up to see you better. He was shaking slightly, face red and hand covering his mouth. You wanted to hear him. With a frown, you pulled back and reached for his hand, holding them in your own before getting back to work. The gasps and groans and moans he let out, even the occasional squeak would slip out. It told you all you needed to know about his more sensitive bits. You heard something thump behind Reese. You opened your eyes to see his tail flicking behind him, thumping against the bed every so often. Glancing up you see his teeth and ears elongating. You can feel the hand in your hand shake as it begins to stretch bigger. He was close. You move to pull off, finish him off with your hand, but he stops you, his unoccupied handing coming to grip your hair as he pushes you back down, forcing you deeper than before, your throat tightening around him making him cum for you. His hand dropping from your head, you pulled off of him, looking up before opening your mouth, showing it empty. He gasps, hand moving to cover his now more monstrous mouth as he gazes back at you, eyes slightly watery from cumming. You stand up, legs shaking slightly from kneeling for so long, before moving to the bedside table, where you had everything you needed to clean the two of you up, and even water and a few snacks to choose from. Getting to work, you took a swig of water before shifting to hand Reese the other, turning back to grab a slightly damp wash cloth to clean him up, listening to him take a few sips of his water, throat probably sore from how loud you got him. Turning back, you move closer to him once more, cleaning him up and then offering him a snack. He declines, instead reaching towards you to pull you into a hug. He just wants to cuddle, and you would absolutely indulge him, but first the both of you needed to put on your pjs. Convincing him of this was much harder than you had anticipated, though you were able to get through to him after a bit of back and forth.  Pjs on and curled up in bed with your boyfriend, cuddled up and pressing your face into his chest, you listened to his steady breathing, knowing you did it, you got him to relax a bit. With the knowledge that you did good, you closed your eyes and drifted off to the sound of his gentle breathing.

[daemonoferror]

Ouuhuhou Scarlet Hollow fanfic, that sounds so good! If it’d be fun for you I’d suggest a little reese fix it moment , like hurt comfort fluff in his basement before stuff goes down! If not that’s all chill too ^^

I'm so sorry this took me like, a month to write- I still hope you like it!

It'll be Okay

Of all the terrible things that have happened this week, being barricaded in a basement against your will isn't the worst. It’s easier to cope with when you tell yourself you're just spending time with Reese. Except he's the reason you're trapped, and he's not the most reassuring person right now. He’s completely restless and jittery. That kind of unhinged, uncontrollable excitement you see people act in movies. He pretends to be okay, but he’s clearly not. He’s just witnessed a betrayal very few have to handle, and no matter how excited for the future he is, the hurt that’s happening now will take a long time to heal.

You’re not very interested in the movie you’re watching. Instead you’re watching him. His wide eyes as he rambles about the aspects of the movie. His fidgeting hands and subconscious foot tapping. His demeanor could seem impatient or annoyed, regardless of the big grin he wears. The movie isn’t fast paced enough to keep up with him. When he interrupts again with a factoid about a scene you haven’t watched yet, you turn the TV off. “A movie might be too much for you right now, man.” You answer his disappointed, questioning look. “Are you feeling okay?

"Yeah, I feel fine- great, actually! My body must be adjusting without the poison. I'm getting better, healthier! I'm doing great!" Reese responds, his words rushed. The reasoning doesn't sit well with you. The poison was flushed out within hours of not taking it? A deadly poison he's been fed for at least a decade? The body doesn't work that fast.

You frown, "Are you sure you're not like, upset? This is a lot to process, Reese, maybe you need to talk about it-”

“I don’t know what there is to talk about!” Reese interrupts you, "The doc has been poisoning me for the past decade, and I've practically been a prisoner down here for the same amount of time." He says, and his smile falters a bit. His bouncing leg is nearly vibrating, he stands up and starts quickly pacing around his room to try to calm down.

You want to drop it, but there’s this sinking feeling, something telling you there’s something wrong here, more than you know. "I just. . . I feel like your mom had to have a reason. Nothing in Scarlet Hollow seems this transparent." You’re a little meek to say it while Reese is doing so poorly. He does tense at your words, for only a moment. From where you're seated, his ears look pointier, his nails longer before he balls his hands into fists. 

"You don't have to defend her. And don’t call her that. She lost that right." Reese strains to control his anger, "I don't care what her reasons are, it doesn't change anything." He paces faster, glaring at the ground. The changes you could've blamed on a trick of the light or mind are obvious now, and very real.

“Reese?” You slowly stand up and reach out to him. “Are you-”

“Yes! I mean no- I’m-. . .I’m just mad.” He growls, and brings a hand up to hold his head. He looks taller, his skin a sort of gray color. "Everything I used to blame on my illness was really just because of her. I had to drop out of school because of her. I couldn't go out or hang out with my friends because of her. I thought I could die any day because of her." Each word is spoken with more unearthed resentment until he’s nearly yelling. All of these little changes start to come together to make him look nothing like the reese you know. His sweater tears as his shoulder widen and arms grow. His face droops like molded clay, sharp teeth poking out of his mouth. "And I'm still just trapped in her basement, waiting on her to leave. Why should I wait on her any longer? Why does she get to live when she's stolen my life from me?" His anger boils over to a snapping point. It feels like the world freezes around him as the plan takes shape, staring at the door with wide eyes and new, morbid motivation. "Stay here. I'll be right back." His voice is lower, malice. The monster treks towards the stairs, and you're mortified.

 “Reese- Reese please wait-” Your voice trembles witnessing the scene in front of you. The paintings come to life, bubbling under the surface and reaching out for purchase in this world. You try to step towards him, but you can’t move. Looking down, painted hands seep from his art to hold your feet in place. You struggle against it as Reese ignores your pleas.

“This has to be done.” He ensures. He only climbs a few steps before your struggle with the paint ends, squashing it under your shoes with a splat. You hardly think before you collide into him in an embrace. Maybe it was meant more to restrain him- a fruitless attempt against his new beastly size- but it works as a sign of affection that throws him off. He stumbles a bit, and seems to shrink ever so slightly in your arms. It leaves him speechless, frozen in place, with his long arms raised to not touch you. 

When you feel him shaking above him, you immediately think you did something wrong- hurt him or angered him- and take it as a sign to step away from him. His breathing is heavy and short, his snout scrunched up and nostrils flaring. His face is twisted in pain. Agonized and conflicted with a far off gaze. His eyes dart to look down at you, the glow in them dims, soft and glossy. One hand reaches out for you, the claws graze your arm before he pauses, wide eyes taking in the look of his monstrous appearance for the first time. "Oh... I'm-... I'm sorry-" His voice is less than a whimper as he pushes past you, stumbling down the stairs with unfamiliar legs. 

"It's okay-" You quickly say, following his path until he collapses to the floor with his back to you. "I'm alright." You ensure your voice is soft, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder. 

He hides his face as well as he can in his hands, but it is clear when you hear a sob that he’s crying. "Why-" He starts, so many emotions built behind the one word. There's hundreds of things he could ask, questions neither of you have the answer to. "Why would she do this? What did I do? What's… What's wrong with me?" He asks,

"There isn't anything wrong with you. This isn't your fault." You tell him the only thing you're (mostly) confident in. 

"Bullshit." He scoffs, and his ears twist down. He finally turns to you and the anger simmers away again. "I was going to kill her. I could've hurt you." 

"But I'm fine! Not a scratch on me." You reassure him, sitting down next to him. He flinches a bit when you wrap an arm around his shoulder, removing it to not make him uncomfortable. "Look. I've only known you for like, two days. But I know that you're sweet and kind. I trust that you would never hurt me." 

He looks at you, and there's this tiny voice that tells him he could easily crush you, and he feels nauseous. "I don't like this." He sighs in defeat, hugging his arms across his torso. That voice tells him he's lying- like a constant need to be at odds with himself. "I guess… I do though? It's easier to breathe. I just don't-" When he looks into your eyes, he's at a loss for words again. "I don't..." He thinks he'll get lost in them, the nagging thoughts quieting like he's been riddled with stage fright. "I don't want to do something I'd regret." He finally pieces together. "I don't want to be a monster."

You grin softly and take his hand. "You're not a monster. You're Reese. You're human." You tell him, sure in your words. He uses his free hand to wipe away tears that were beginning to form. Finally his features start to shrink into something just more human as he tries to return the smile. A quiet sob bubbles up and he uses all his strength to not start weeping. He awkwardly pulls you into a hug, your face pressed against his chest. He holds you tight, as silent tears roll down his cheeks. 

"Thank you." He says with a sniffle after minutes of staying like this, rubbing circles into his back. He holds onto you like a lifeline, and you're not sure he ever intends on letting go of you.

The moment is ruined when you hear stomping from upstairs, and Doc Kelly yelling for Reese. He tenses and squeezes you tighter, maybe too tight. "Hey, it's okay." You mumble, soothing and softly, and his muscles relax enough for you to pull away. You look up at the ceiling, placing in your mind where the mad doctor could be before facing Reese, "Maybe I could try to talk to her-"

"No." He gasps, and you start to see his features shifting again. "Especially not without me." He spits. 

Your shoulders droop and you sigh. It was a mad idea in the first place. You decide to change the topic, hoping to distract him. "Come on, it's getting late, you've gotta be tired." You use his loose grip on your arm to pull him towards the bed. He's definitely confused; and probably disappointed you're not encouraging the fight, but he lets you drag him away. You lay down first, and scooch as far back as you can, your back pressing against the cold brick wall.

"Are you sure we shouldn't try to leave now? I don't have to hurt her, I could just like- shove her out of the way or something?" Reese shrugs, hesitant to crawl in beside you.

"I'd rather just avoid her instead of risking it. Please, just humor me? We'll get you out of here soon, safely. Just relax for now." 

Reese sighs, "Fine." And lays down beside you. "Do you have a plan then?"

"Take a nap. And at like 2 or 3 am or so we sneak back to the estate." You shrug, scooching towards him to get away from the cold wall.

"What if she doesn't fall asleep?" His voice waivers, imagining the many ways this could end with you hurt.

"We break a window or something? I don't know. At some point she's going to think you simmered down, right?" Maybe it's true your plan isn't great, but even if you're just prolonging the inevitable, it's worth it to be here with him. 

"I'm not sure. I don't remember the last time this happened. If this has happened?" He picks at his nails anxiously, remembering the logs of his "episodes" in the book he found. 

"Well, we'll figure it out. It'll be okay." You assured him.

"Thanks. For being here with me. And for not running away. I'm glad I met you." He says with a sigh, moving to press his forehead against yours.

"I'm glad I met you, too. And I'm happy I'll get to spend more time with you." You lace your fingers with his to hold his hand, closing your eyes, feeling safe next to him. "You still think you'll come home with me?"

"Yeah." He answers without skipping a beat. "What's it like in your town anyways?"

You snort, "Hm, you'll think it's boring. There's no ditchlings, or mine collapses, or vengeful ghost hauntings." You hum, amused, a small smile tugging at your lips as your eyes droop shut. 

"And no one transforming into…" He trails off, but the question is clear.

You hum a negatory. "No one like you. You've got no competition."

It wasn't what he meant when he asked, but your answer made him flush, "Oh… good." 

"But I can't stress this enough though: the cat's a complete asshole. He's terrible, you'll love him." You chuckle, and Reese reciprocates it.

"I've never had a cat, it'll be fun." Reese shrugs confidently.

"Yeah? Then you can clean his litter box. He tries to kick all of it out as soon as you're done, by the way. And when he does go he usually misses. He's a terror." You reiterate. 

"Damn. Maybe he just doesn't like you. I'm sure we'll be best friends though." He teases, and nudges your arm. 

"If he likes you more than me I'm throwing one of you out." You laugh and nudge him back. "I'm kidding."

"You better be! You can't get rid of me that easily." He jokes, comfortable silence falling over the two of you after. "I'm really excited about this. It sounds so nice to just- live and explore the city with you."

"Yeah. Wait till you try all the food you've been robbed of for years." You try not to yawn, "No more plain pasta for you. You're getting the greasiest pizza, richest chocolate cake, soda- whatever you want. I'll even make you anything you want. If you don't get a stomachache in the first week, I've failed you."

Reese laughs, "That all sounds great… more or less."

"It will be." You sigh and mutter after, "I'm just happy to be part of your new life." Your eyes are heavy, yawning again. You want to keep talking but you can't, wrapping your arm around Reese as you fall asleep. 

Sleep doesn't find Reese as easily though. He listens for any noise or indication of trouble. His eyes dart to any movement out the window, jumps at every creak in the floor boards above. But nothing happens. Even the ditchlings don't make their regular visits. He finally relaxes enough just to stare at your sleeping face, and he starts to think things will all be okay.

[gibor-zolel]

Let's Wrestle! Wayne x F! Reader

Words: 3.8k

Warnings/Tags: Powerful build, mystical, book smart, Wayne is an angel truther, gets bizarre and mildly nsfw at the end, sex with an eldritch being.

Songs used were Lecha dodi and Song of Songs 7

A chilling breeze brushed against your skin, tingling your senses and making small bumps as you watched Tabitha and Stella reconnect from afar.  They had been talking for a good while when Tabby put a comforting hand on Stella as the audacious yet seemingly fickle woman shifted closer to her ex-friend, ex-lover, ex something.

You couldn’t overhear what was being said but it felt as if whatever burdens the two women shared had been lifted, if only for a moment under the quiet moon.  The luminous light shined above them; a spotlight centered only on them and the rekindling of their flame

Yet here you wait…in the dark and alone.

(Mystical) Their souls are tied together once more.  Nothing will come between them again.  Not even if Pearlanne would wake from her slumber.

There it was again.  That gut instinct.  That sensation that told you more than your eyes, ears, nose, hands, ever could.  That gut instinct had pulled you into increasingly dangerous situations ever since you got here.

And now it was telling you that whatever hope you had of winning Stella over was gone.  She wasn’t yours.  Never could be.

Whatever. 

Tabitha still loved her and while you were a troublemaker you wouldn’t dream of making her more miserable than she already was.  After causing so much worry for her it felt wrong to come between the two.

Zipping your jacket close as another icy draft hit your face, you turned around and began heading home.  Dread washed through your spirit with each step towards the woods; knowing what was in them.

(Powerful build) Why were you even afraid?  Punching one of those parasites was akin to hitting play dough.  You could take em’.

"Come along now, it’s quite a hike back to the estate."

Wayne had suddenly appeared out of thin air and was standing directly in your path.  It hadn’t even been twenty steps away and here he was.  The smell of decay assaulted your senses whenever he got nearby.

“Holy shit you scared me!  Why do you always do that?  And back up man!  Your stench is getting worse!”

Wayne emitted that uncanny cough; which to your guess was his version of a chuckle.

“I thought you had moved past your fear.  You should know I’m always near you even if you can’t see me.”

Rolling your eyes as you regarded the definitely not human entity, you crossed your arms and huffed.

“It’s not about being scared of you, I just don’t like being snuck up on!  If you’ve been watching me all this time you should know that.”

(Powerful Build) Your muscles were still tense from being startled, fingers ever so slightly tingling and spasming with desire to go punch or wrestle this fear out of you.

(Mystical) It doesn’t matter how many reps you do or how heavy you can lift; your soul is frightened and no amount of mass can conquer the mind.

“Your heart is palpitating…. it’s not good for you to be on edge…”

“Duh but it’s hard not to be anxious in this awful little town I’ve been pulled back too”

“You don’t have to help them…you can always stay in the estate like I asked of you.  These “people” are not your friends.  They’re parasites eating away at your body and soul.  You’ve continuously put your life on the line to help them despite my warnings."

Not this again.

“I know you like showing off for me.  Where would you even be if I wasn’t putting myself in danger?” Giving him a playful wink, your eyes traveled all over the figure standing before you.  The rot had gotten worse; and you struggled to remember what you had learned in forensic science class years ago.

(Book smart) Sam Wayne’s body was past the point of bloat but the livor mortis still patterns the body in bruise like marks.  He was in active decay now.  Yet there were no flies or maggots devouring his skin.  Perhaps even the pestilence feared whatever laid inside the carcass.

Part of it disgusted you, part of it excited you.  This unsettling yellow eyed freak had taken a liking to you for whatever reason and you were going to make it your mission to tease and taunt him.

“How come you hide your face from me?”

“You wouldn’t wish to see what’s underneath.”

“Nah.  You’re just shy, aren’t you?”

Wayne’s glowing dots shined through the veil but it said nothing.

“How tough are you anyway?”  Circling the thing that stood in your path, you wanted so badly to tackle him and wrestle him into the dirt.  No hint of malice in your body; just a need to unleash that nagging panic that lingered.  He, no…it; could take it; there would be no need to hold back out of fear of injuring your sparring partner.

“Encircling me like a starving beast will not increase your chances of killing me.  You cannot harm me.”  There was a subtle irritation in its voice.  This had been the first time the creature inhabiting Wayne’s body had showed any emotion and it was annoyed by you.

Without another word, you lunged at the figure, grabbed its right wrist and formed a pocket grip on the collar of its miners jacket.  An involuntary scrunch of your nose happened due to the proximity of death filling your nostrils. Wayne had jerked its head back, as if expecting a punch to the face rather than a vice grip on its wrist.

“Ha!  Did you flinch?  Who’s scared now?”  Confidence began to flow in increasingly zealous veins.  You could feel your veins expand and contract with adrenaline at the thought of rolling with a demon or whatever Wayne was now.

“Don’t.” Its voice dripped with less subtle irritation now. 

(Mystical) The entity’s aura is brimming with displeasure.  It would be unwise to push your protector too far.  Do you wish to drive everyone away?

“Geez man relax!” Taking your grips off of it, you stepped back and gave the entity a lopsided grin.

“I’m not trying to attack you!  I just wanna wrestle!  It’s not like I can hurt you anyways so what does it matter?  Sparring with someone brings you closer to the other person!  You get to see how the other person thinks in the heat of the moment and how their body reacts to pressure.  It’s the ultimate mind-body experience!  Come oonnnn!  Let’s wrestle!”

Wayne tilted its head to the side and stared at you through the veil covering its face, bright yellow pupils shined outward as it contemplated this.

Finally, it let out another coughing fit.  This one longer than the last as it seemed to be amused by this development.  Any trace of frustration was gone.

“I am glad you’re no longer afraid but you cannot hope to match me in such a way.  Let’s go, it’s getting late and you need your rest.”  Wayne's body turned around and started along the path to the estate.

Shoulders slumped down in disappointment at the rejection and you begrudgingly followed your silent stalker. 

“Obviously you’re just worried I might actually beat you and then you couldn’t be so condescending to me…” There was a need inside your soul to poke at Wayne's emotions.  A need to see it unravel before you and dispose of its stoic character.  Everyone had a breaking point, a line that shouldn’t be crossed.  You just wanted to figure out what that line was.  Push and see how far you could push before Wayne abandoned you.  Then again…did you truly want to cross that line?

Wayne didn’t bother responding.   

Dick.

Perhaps it would be better to question Wayne about everything that happened tonight.  At least to fill the void of silence in the forest.

“Did you know…Reese was like that?” Wayne had to have known right?  Why else would Reese be called a “thing”?

“I knew he was different.  How exactly, I wasn’t sure but now I know.”

Nodding your head, you looked out into the night sky, deep in thought.

“Thanks for looking out for me tonight.”

“Anytime you find yourself in danger, I will be there for you.  I will always be there for you.”

Really?  Always?  Wayne's words made a lump in your throat.  It felt as if you couldn’t breathe.  Someone…always being there for you?  Never to abandon you or hate you? 

No.  This spirit…entity…whatever it was didn’t mean that.  It couldn’t have.

Still the thought caused butterflies to flutter in your abdomen and your head felt fuzzy with an indescribable pleasure.  Its detached sonorous voice never failed to thrill you in all the wrong ways. 

Reaching out, you attempt to hold its hand.  Sure, it was probably all mushy or disgustingly cold but you needed to hold its hand.

Wayne pulled away and left you grasping for air. 

“A thoughtful gesture, but you don’t want to do that.  I wouldn’t wish to frighten you.”

Your heart sank and you gave him a pitiful look.

“I could never be afraid of you.  I know you’re not human but I still want you...”

Muscles began twitching again, the emotions were too much.  Why couldn’t you be stoic like Wayne?  It was so painful to care for others and be rejected, to not be enough.

“No need to fret, there will be a time and a place.”

Your spirit quickly lifted at those words but you couldn’t have guessed what would next leave the entity’s mouth.

“The bond we could share…” Its gaze titled upwards towards the stars, was it reminiscing on something?

After a moment its gaze drifted back to you.

“It would be deeper than any bond you could form with anyone else” The sentence left its rotting lips as if fact.  No room for argument.

Your stomach began to twist into knots, no longer that pleasant feeling of infatuation but a deep seeded insecurity creeping up.

The estate was within sight, it’s decaying yet powerful presence reminded you of Wayne. There was a thought haunting your heart ever since Wayne had rescued you from the library. 

“Don’t leave me tonight…please…I don’t want to be…alone.  Tabby doesn’t like me no matter how hard I try to connect with her.  I thought we were making progress but…I-I…I don’t know.  She says family matters to her but she acts like she hates me!”  Admitting that out loud hurt.  You had never gotten along with your mother so when Tabitha invited you to her mother’s funeral it felt like a chance to finally have a family.  Finally have someone who would love you no matter what.

But Tabitha didn’t love you either.

A single hot streak of water ran down your right cheek.  Oh, fuck were you crying?

(Book smart) Tears made from heartbreak contain stress hormones such as prolactin, potassium, and manganese.  Your body is attempting to soothe you.

Wayne stopped right outside the estates gates and looked back at you, still no emotion in its harrowing yellow eyes.

“Save your tears for yourself.  Cry, if you must relieve whatever is inside but don’t cry for someone else.  These miserable fleshlings are of no concern.  Cowardly, contumelious, thoughtless, arrogant, foolish, that’s all they are.”

Blinking away your tear, you gave Wayne a shocked looked.  It had said some callous things before but this?

“Did you just call my friends fleshlings?” Such an abrasive thing to say, it almost made cynical laughter erupt from your sore throat.

“Made from flesh and bone are they not?” The condescension in Wayne's voice would be miss able to anyone else but you.

“I-I-I thought I really bonded with Stella…I was gonna go to the general store tomorrow and pick her up some chocolates.  When I told her that I lived in an internet café she even suggested I could move in with her after Pearlanne’s funeral.  I thought maybe…m-maybe we c-c-could build something together.”  It sounded more inane as you choked back another stream of tears.

“Fifty percent of marriages end in divorce”

“I-what?  Are you serious?” What were you supposed to say to that?  Wayne always said the cruelest things so casually.  It had caught you so off guard you almost laughed.

“I’m very serious.  Look at yourself.  You’ve stained up the carpet with your tears.”

Wait you were inside the estate?  You hadn’t even noticed.  Looking down at the carpet, there it laid, dampness in a solitary spot, evidence of all the suffering this week had brought into your life.

“You’ve barely known these creatures for a week and you almost gave away years of your life for a piece of property.  And for what?  When you got home your cousin didn’t even believe you.  She’s been scornful by the thought of your very presence since she knew of your birth.”

This was too much.  Eyes closed shut as imagines of a happy family flooded your mind.  You wanted that so bad.

“I want to go to bed”

Wayne stepped forward, a piece of cloth in its hand, and wiped the moisture from your face as the two of you headed upstairs.  A strange and unexpected gesture.

Nothing but numbness flowed in your body as you deteriorated into the bumpy mattress.  Wanting this nightmare to be over with.

Wayne stood at the side of the bed and peered down at you.  The corpse was close yet there was no flinching at the stench anymore.

“Why are you still here?” The voice that escaped sounded nothing like your own.  It was too harsh, too broken, all too painfully human.

“You asked me to make sure you weren’t alone tonight so here I am.”

“Thanks…” Yet there was no trace of gratitude in your tone.  Not after what it had said to you.

Wayne, sensing this, loomed over your body and got uncomfortably close to your face.

“As I understand it; my candor may seem dismissive or unsympathetic to mortals such as yourself.  I only wish for you to see things as they are.  Not how you wish they were.”

“I get it man.  Please just let me sleep…”

But Wayne didn’t leave, instead it moved even closer and now you could no longer mentally block the putrid aroma.

“I could pay you a visit tonight in your dreams.  Would you like that?”

(Mystical) There is a foreboding intent behind this question.  If you say yes there’s no going back. 

Swallowing, you gazed into its piercing dots that made up its version of eyes.

“Yes”

Everything went black as sleep forced itself onto you, sinking into the mattress, the last thing your eyes witness were a glimmer of ecstasy in the spirit’s unrelenting gaze.

You were alone again, surrounded by the trees of the forest with no ditchlings in sight.  Looking up, there were no brilliant stars in the sky to look at, nor a reassuring moon to light your path. 

Instead, there were storm clouds gathering in the sky as lightning struck and faint sounds of thunder rumbled and echoed seconds after.  Taking a deep breath, you finally relaxed and hummed up at the heavens, taking in the moment. 

You loved storms ever since you were a child.  You vaguely remembered breaking out of the house one day while your mother was showering.  Using the books from your shelf you had crafted a stepping stool to reach the locks and raced outside to watch the lightning streak the dreary heavens.  There was something so mesmerizing about the thunderstorm, it called to your soul, beckoning you to witness it.  Your mother had pulled you back inside soon after, furious for putting yourself at risk.

A solitary light from across a riverside snapped you out of nostalgia.  Taking one step forward, then two, then three and without any more reluctance, legs began racing headfirst to greet it.

Approaching closer and closer to the light, you weren’t even sure what your eyes were witnessing.  Two radiant wing like appendages with hundreds of eyes sprawled over them stood alongside each other and a darkness was sheltered in the middle between them.  Two yellow dots examined you from the shadowy parts of the beast. 

(Mystical) It wishes to be witnessed.  To bare its soul in pleas of matrimony and covenant

Standing only a few lengths away, words couldn’t form in your spiraling mind.  This was a dream but it felt so physical, so real.

Still no words could find structure, so in the silence; it spoke for you, sang for you.  

“Come in peace, crown of her husband,

 Both in happiness and in jubilation;

 Come O Bride! Come O Bride!”

The voice sounded so commanding yet devoted in its praise and longings.  The rumbling vocals were unlike anything heard by human ears.

“Oh, so you’re cultured huh?” Small laughter found its way out at last.  You weren’t sure what to expect but it certainly wasn’t this.  “You have a lovely singing voice…”

“Come, my beloved, let us go out to the field, let us lodge in the villages,

 Let us rise early for the vineyards, let us see if the vine has blossomed,

 If the tender grapes have appeared, If the pomegranates are in bloom,

 There I will give my love to you”

Heat swelled up in your cheeks the more it sang to you.  Singing the song of songs no less.

The fields were full of pomegranate trees that came into flower.  Bright red and matured for harvesting.  Had they always been there?  Or had your subconscious formed them after hearing the melody?

Sighing, you came closer to the two yearning eyes sheltered in the darkness caused by its wings.  It was time to give your response.

“I am my beloved’s, and his desire is upon me”

Laughter emitted from the shades.  No coughing this time, rather this was its true voice, untethered by the vocals of a rotting body.  “The song is out of order…but that’s fine.”

Lighting flashed and thunder roared over the looming clouds as the darkness began creeping in to surround the two souls, forcing you to get closer to avoid being swallowed up by the storm.  Wayne’s presence became more terrible as you neared it, the blackness sheltered by its wings could no longer hide its form from your mortal eyes.  The darkness bowed before such divinity.

A body or what resembled a body was kneeling in front of you.  Interweaving ribbons of lightning shaped its torso, hands, legs, everything.  In between the electricity were rotating eyes that directed all of their attention to you.  It looked more like an eldritch nervous system than a fully fleshed out frame.  Yet in its center there was a luminous shape that you could only guess were its lungs “breathing” in and out.  Its head was much like the rest of its body except only two eyes were embedded on instead of hundreds.  It had no mouth, yet…it spoke.

You felted so exposed under its gaze.  It could see your soul in its entirety.  All of your faults, your dreams that never came true, your insecurities, laid bare for Wayne to ogle at with its lecherous yellow dots.  A feeling of nakedness incapacitated your spirit.  No…looking down you were naked.

“I have seen it before, there is no need to hide from me.”  

What?!  This pervert!

“Please no more…don’t look at me in such a way.  It feels as though you’re picking me apart when you do that.”  Tears welled up in your eyes once more, this was too much, too soon.  Your heart shouldn’t desire such a thing.  What would Tabitha think?  Or Stella?  Or Keneeka? 

“Do not be embarrassed! Do not be ashamed!

 Why be downcast? Why groan?

 Your despoilers will become spoil,

 Far away shall be any who would devour you”

Its melodic chant eased your howling heart, closing your eyes you cleansed yourself of any guilt for what was about to happen.  And hey if no one else, Avery would understand, wouldn’t they?

“You enjoy switching between songs it appears.  Melodies flow so easily for you despite your lack of lips.” Chuckling at the thought, a sense of elation befell inside the soul.

“Well, you wished to wrestle with me, did you not?  Let us wrestle then.”

 Its wings encased you, trapped you inside as it took your body, your soul, your mind. 

(Powerful Build) Souls quarreled against each other in a fight for domination.  It was overwhelmingly strong, inhuman, insistent, but not all powerful. 

(Book smart and Mystical) Unfortunately for Wayne; you knew this play and how it ended.

Gripping its wrists and pushing your body against it, you struggled with all your might.  Otherworldly sensations coursed in your frame; feelings of agony, feelings of despair and hope, of regret and longing, feelings of abandonment and devotion.  All emotions felt at once, even in contradiction. 

Lifting your hips up, you dug and hooked your legs into its upper frame and, using your hooks, you pulled the monster closer and tried to pin it into side control.  As the two of you struggled to pin the other, Wayne entered you without any warning.  Ripping the air out of your lungs as your mortal body panicked at the abominable chafing.  You let the pain pass over and held on to the thing ascending upon you.

Sensing it was losing, Wayne began to assault your essence with sensations of inconceivable pleasure and relaxation, your body started to tremble with euphoria, your breath got ragged and hoarse as exhaustion and the need to rest came over. A final attempt to make you surrender.

Legs shook with the want to kneel and submit but instead nails dug deeper into its ethereal flesh, refusing to let go.  Maybe you couldn’t grapple it into its guard yet but you’d stubbornly hold on until it needed to rest.  

I didn’t matter how long it took, even until the dawn, if necessary, that be!

At the first sign of vulnerability, you used the last bit of your strength to put Wayne into half guard, hooking your left leg and entangling its lower body as you mounted the spirit and trapped its right arm under your weight.

“Such fighting spirit” Wayne snickered.

Sunlight broke through over the harsh gloomy skies and Wayne reared back, trying to disentangled itself but found it couldn’t do so.

“Let me go.”

Giving the spirit a wolfish grin, you taunted “Beg me”

Wayne paused for a moment, in consideration before it relented.  “Please…let me go.”

‘Good enough.”

Slowly, eyes opened to the dusty bedroom you slept in.  Your legs felt as if they had dead lifted a tremendous weight and through it all you sensed a wetness in between them and a different kind of ache inside.  Cheeks became red with embarrassment and you turned over to the clock in realization it was already ten in the morning.  Pain throbbed throughout your body as you rose up and started putting on clothing.

“Ahhh damn it!” Placing a hand on your left hip bone, you wrenched over in discomfort.  When the hell did Wayne hit your hip?

“What a dick…hopefully that goes away soon…” Grumbling, you made your way downstairs, stumbling a bit but ready to face the new horrors that awaited with new found confidence.

[vivalabunbun]

The Aftermath of Summer

Summary: Who stays to watch the credits roll at the end of a film?

Word Count: 3.4k

Tags: Alhaitham X Fem!Reader, Modern AU, Vampire AU, Contract Marriage, Fluff, Angst, Grief, TW: Talks about death, themes about death, sfw, slight! reincarnation themes, broke student life.

Authors Note: The aftermath of looking over the garden wall to see the flowers. I hope this piece brings to rest the questions that may or may not remain unanswered. Enjoy!

The garden was empty tonight, the sun had long been chased away by the dark entourage of the night and her stars.

The gates should’ve been sealed, locked by chains and heavy locks to separate the hearts that still beat and those that have decayed. 

However, as a creature that’s born forever outside the delicate balance, how can these gates stop him?

Or simply the watcher who wanders about these grounds looks the other way, to give this pitifully foolish vampire a semblance of privacy. 

Even the moon covered herself with clouds, trying not to peek as Alhaitham knelt down next to a polished rock.

There were double as many flowers in his arms tonight, the fragrance carried by the late breeze was twice as overbearing. 

It doesn’t bother him, after all, his senses have been steeled against this. 

A variable walked through the sliding doors at the office tonight, disrupting Alhaitham’s treasured routine with a bitterly sweet bouquet. 

–

“Secretary Alhaitham.” A voice called as a hand knocked against the wooden frame of his office. 

Said vampire responds with a grunt of acknowledgment, pen only pausing when a familiar fragrance fills the air. 

“You have a visitor.” Faruzan steps to the side, nose scrunched up at the unaccustomed scent. 

Familiar scarlet locks shuffled into view of teal eyes, hands fiddling with the ends of a silk ribbon that contained the bundle together.

It’s hard to not put a name to that shade of hair, Nilou, it’s been a while. 

When was the last time he saw the faces of your dearest friends? Perhaps a few months back, while a coffin was lowered into the cold ground alone. 

That day was mockingly clear, the sky showing off her most vibrant hues of orange, violet, and pink, brilliant colors competing with those of the blooms thrown into the lonely pit.

No words were exchanged between him and the guests. The same faces of those who once danced and smiled with you within the decorated walls of a wedding venue are now deep in mourning. 

So much so that they collectively overlooked the immortal creature who stood amongst them, or perhaps they were too self-absorbed in their own sorrows to extend any grace to him.

After all, in their eyes, how could a creature like him ever understand the grief experienced by those with finite time? 

It was for the best, Alhaitham is never in the mood to engage in meaningless small talk, there’s no need for them to give him their hollow condolences.

Instead, he shall stand guard just off to the side, eyes observing every toss of cold dirt until the lacquered box was no longer visible. 

Sealing the gates to an unexplored sanctuary that held answers untold.

Alhaitham places his pen down, turning his full attention to the young lady who brought a physical memory into his office. 

“Hello, Mr. Alhaitham… um, I’m sorry if I’m bothering you.”  

Giving a curt nod to Faruzan, he dismisses her from his office, giving him and the guest some privacy.

The polite silence encouraged her to finish stating her purpose this late evening, the ashen-haired vampire awaits patiently with his hands folded atop the desk. 

“I… I know there isn’t a reason for you to keep in contact with us, but… I felt it’s only right to show gratitude towards you for everything you’ve done.” 

The scarlet-haired lady closes her eyes, chest expanding with a deep inhale, mind stringing together her unrehearsed lines. 

“Originally, I wanted to bring Dehya and Candace along, but… their jobs kept them busy.” 

It’d be quite the sight, two hunters thanking the very creatures they’ve spent their whole careers ripping the hearts out of. Even if it might seem like a thinly veiled excuse, Alhaitham knew Nilou’s words were sincere. 

The firm hand on the shoulder Dehya gave him at the end of committal service, once the mourns finished shedding their tears over freshly dug dirt, was enough for him to understand. 

As expected of a hunter, the strength in her grip on his shoulder stung, but she didn’t let go and he didn’t make any moves to brush her off.

A moment of silence for two grieving beings to communicate their shared pain, both caused a by void that can never be filled. 

After a few breaths, the flame-mane hunter releases her hold, wordlessly parting from him. As his teal gaze moves back up they connect with heterochromatic eyes.

Candace simply steadies her stare, then closes her lids as she nods in silent understanding. He mirrors her actions, and she then joins her mortal companions. 

The only gestures he accepted that horrid day, olive branches handed over by two sides.

“She used to always close her eyes when she smiled, but after she married you, she smiled with her eyes open.” 

A clever habit you had, concealing the apathetic vacuums of your irises when your lips curled, otherwise it’d distract from the radiant grin.

A brilliant technique utilized by an actress as skilled as you. 

“Thank you, thank you so much for making her happy, she really was happy.” 

The air remains silent, but his hands were gripping each other just a tab bit tighter. 

Alhaitham’s pride would never allow him to confess the truth, it’s embarrassing to admit that a creature who’s lived through multiple lifetimes couldn’t decrypt the actions of a mere mortal. 

Your performance was just that captivating, blurring the distinction between a daydream and reality. Bravo. 

Nilou carefully places the bouquet upon a vacant spot on his desk, they gave each other a nob in acknowledgment before parting ways yet again.

Perhaps the final applause after the credits have rolled. 

–

Brushing away the wilted bouquet before setting down the bright blooms still fresh with the vigor of life. Gathering the debris to ensure the soft glow of the night could reflect off the glossy surface, you always liked watching the stars.

In the empty silence of the garden offered Alhaitham the serenity of a deep reflection.

Away from the rowdy city streets and obnoxious office phones. He reviews the past seven years, emending his past assessment of your character.

You weren’t a capricious breeze nor were you a delicate flower. You were a human, a strange human, but a human nonetheless. The purest embodiment of mortality. 

That’s how Alhaitham will remember you, that’s how you wanted to be remembered. It’s his final duty as your husband,  he’ll carry it out with the same dedication. 

Technically speaking, not all clauses were truly fulfilled. 

The ashen-haired creature stands by the grave for a few beats more, before his feet finally broke free from their trance.

Redirecting his body towards the gates, his back facing your headstone. But it’s fine, he has to wipe down the polished stone tomorrow night. 

For now, let the stars keep your company. 

Readjusting to the tediousness of a solitary life was unexpectedly troublesome. Alhaitham never realized just how quickly dust loves to accumulate upon untouched surfaces.

How can objects still get dirty even when there’s no interference with their existence? A question not even the universe can answer. 

For his idle eyes to be bothered by the subtle hints of dust and misaligned book spines, you truly did an outstanding job in your household duties, honoring the agreements printed on the contract.  

The dryer sings its tone, Alhaitham places the dust cloth down to attend to the laundry before wrinkles can settle in. It's strange really, how certain scents can never be replicated by teams of scientists.

No detergent could ever truly hold the fragrance of a morning star.

However, it would be far too tiresome for a creature of the night to voluntarily embrace the stinging light just for a familiar whiff of solace.

He’ll just have to get used to the artificial aroma of fresh linen, after all these years, Alhaitham has gotten comfortable with the notion of change, an experienced expert in adapting to the times.

Nothing is immune to change, nothing can remain the same when the hands of a clock tick forward.

Thus, the clothes you once owned no longer hold the scent you once dawned. Yet, if he were to remove them… the closet would be too empty, best to leave them there.

With the laundry now checked off the list, Alhaitham returns back to the living room where he left one responsibility unfinished. Picking up the cloth square once more, he wipes the layer of dust from the neglected remote. 

Some of the print among the rubber buttons were faded, signs of wear from indecisive fingers as they debate which show they should settle on for the night.

Something passionate? Comedy? Dramatic? Which genre did you prefer the most?

His firm motions with the cloth absentmindedly pass over a certain button, allowing the large screen a long-awaited chance to flicker back on. Accompanying the bright flash of colors came the crisp audio of a rehearsed conversion between the two characters on screen.

Alhaitham stills as his head turns toward the TV. 

It must be a newly released drama, one with fresh faces and a carefully selected cast. It’s such a shame that all their efforts are wasted in vain, for there’s no audience upon a worn coach to appreciate their work. 

With that thought, Alhaitham sets the remote down as his ageless body settles into the sofa just adjacent to the centered coach.

The night is still young, dust will accumulate nevertheless, it wouldn’t make a difference in taking another break. 

-

There’s a line of distinction between a mind that’s been cultivated by the pages of a book and a mind that’s been entertained by artistically framed scenes.

When one crosses the other, the gap in understanding reveals itself, manifesting in the confusion of how to appreciate such things. 

It’s how you felt when trying to interpret the texts written long before you were born, face scrunched up in focus as your eyes move across the aged paper. 

It’s how he feels as he observes the two lead actors as disembodied laughter rang out. 

The pacing was slow, dialogue uninteresting to an immortal that’s long-lived past the experience of university. But, it’d be a waste to not finish something he intended to do from the start. 

The cushions were soft, supporting his settling frame as the tension leaves his muscles, beckoning his eyelids to lower, luring him into the darkness that lay behind them. 

“Haitham~ are you alive?” A voice brushes against his face. 

The presence of someone intruding upon his personal space made his body alert again, the wisps of sleep vanish.

Slowly he lifts up his leaden lids, blinking the haze of sleep away, vision gradually clearing to reveal your grinning face. 

“Are you finally done with the assignments you’ve procrastinated?” 

“I didn’t procrastinate, I knew I could finish them in time for the deadline and I did.” His voice still gruff with sleep. 

“Your breath stinks of coffee.”

“What an observation, coffee is a common beverage consumed by all walks of life.”

“Haitham, it’s 10 pm.” 

“It isn’t exclusive to one time.” 

An exaggerated huff leaves your lips as you folded, plotting your body right on top of his, the aged couch creaking in protest.

Instinctively, his arms opened to catch your frame, embracing you gently against his chest. Feeling the rhythm of your heart beating in time with his. 

“Stubborn.” You muttered. 

“Summarizing yourself?” Alhaitham bites back a chuckle as a balled-up fist gently knocks against his torso. 

It’s been a while since you’ve had a tender moment like this. Deadlines and exams brought on by the warming air of a concluding semester keep you both on a tight schedule. Only able to exchange brief greets during quick breaks of packaged meals. 

You sink deeper into his arms as he rests his face against your neck. Enjoying the warmth generated between your two bodies, coaxing the exhaustion away from each other’s limbs. 

‘I miss you.’ A silent sentiment wordlessly conveyed by the extended entanglement. 

“You didn’t eat dinner yet.”

Alhaitham lets a soft chuckle escape in the form of a quick huff, how perceptive you are when it comes to his well-being.  

“Skipping meals isn’t healthy,” You scolded as a finger jabbed against his shoulder. 

“I’m aware.” 

“Good, the noodles should be ready by now, c’mon.” 

Reluctantly, Alhaitham allows you out of his arms, letting his heavy body follow your tugging hands toward the old and stained kitchen table.

Teal eyes notice the freshly placed cups of noodles, steam leaking out from the sides of their paper lids held down by two forks. 

“It’s the fourth night we’ve had cup noodles this week.” He states the obvious. 

“So?” You quirk a brow at his announcement. 

“We’ll get sodium poisoning.”

“It’s fine, Haitham, our bodies are young, we'll live.” 

“And these choices will come back to bite us in the future.”

“Shush and eat your food.” You plotted down at your spot at the chipped table, cheek puffed out. 

An absolutely endearing sight. So much so that Alhaitham will rein in his sardonic quips for now, joining you in his spot just across the stained surface.

Ripping the flimsy top off the styrofoam cup, the artificial chicken flavoring sedates his ravenous appetite as he takes a bite.

A sacred respite for any student on a tight budget, empty calories that suppress the growling of stomachs. 

From across the table, his teal gaze watches as you savor your last bite. 

“You can have the rest of mine.”

“No, you’re a growing boy, you need to eat.” 

“The male body fully develops by age eighteen-”

“Shush and eat your food.”  

Your soft lips formed a frown once again, how could he not cave into your demands? Alhaitham takes another bite of the noodles. 

In just a few more semesters he’ll get his hands on a flimsy piece of paper, proving his qualifications to some white-collar job.

He'll earn a paycheck big enough to treat you to a nice steak basted with red wine.

Away from this cluttered box with creaky floors and rumbling pipes.

Then after a few years, the two of you could follow a realtor through a spacious house atop a hill, yard fenced in nicely, and located a reasonable distance away from the bustling city. 

Just endure the endless assignments and demanding exams for a little while longer. 

Styrofoam cups carelessly thrown into the trash, forks washed and set out in the drying wrack. The minimal effort of house cleaning was achieved.

As a reward, two figures found themselves pulled back to the worn cushions of a couch. Melting into each other's touches, fingertips trying to memorize every curve and edge. 

From outside a window left ajar, its hinges rusted with age and neglect, came the first symphony of the crickets. Singing to celebrate the new season which breathes back life into the trees and their leaves. 

Your hands tenderly cupped his face pulling him closer, cheeks touching as your noses perfectly rested against each other.

The leaden weight pulling on his eyelids returned, head dozing into your gentle warmth.

“I love you.” Your whisper so soft it was almost lost in the wind.

Fighting against the droopy pull, his sight centered on your content expression, tranquil gaze reflecting the teal of his irises as you await his response. 

Alhaitham’s firm arms pulled your frame flushed against his, burying his face back into the crook of your neck. Deep breath intaking the light fragrance which held hints of a sunny day. 

“I love you… to the extent it’s unfathomable.” His full truth. 

A truth that couldn’t be left untold. 

“Pfft! You and your fancy words again,” you giggled.

The tickling sensation of your bell-like giggles vibrating against his frame cause the corners of his lips to curl.

Your fingers found their way to his ashen hair, tracing faint patterns along his scalp as you tussled his messy locks. 

Mesmerizing motions making him lose the battle with the sweet call of sleep. The stone-faced man allowing your trailing fingers to beckon him deeper into the temperate waves of dreams. 

Alhaitham’s eyes opened again, lids dawdlingly fluttering open and shut again as the rolling credits of tonight’s spontaneous episode played against the glass screen.

His arms rested unfurled by his sides, nothing in the space against his cold hands. 

Closing his eyes shut once more, efforts now conflicted between prying open the doors of sleep to plunge back into the cloudy waters of dreams or blinking the lingering traces away.

Lungs not daring to take another breath in case they distract from the task at hand.

1… 2… 3

A low sigh leaves his lips, ashen lashes opening up to observe the teal eyes staring back from the dark credit screen.

It seems the keeper of dreams felt this vile creature has overstayed his welcome for tonight.

Locking up the iron gates as they stood mockingly on the other side dangling the key between their fingers. 

It doesn’t matter. The dream has already served its purpose. Allowing Alhaitham to say the lines in a script that he wasn’t able to complete in time. 

It made the void ache just a bit less.

It seems that Alhaitham has unraveled the truth behind your daydreaming habits. 

The itch in his palm has long faded away, the ailment cured by clarity only attainable after one processes the cold truth. Analytical mind returning to rationality untainted by the desperation of false hope. 

To be condemned to forever wheeze at each gasp of air, to be bound to a bed by agony searing your every cell. Who is willing to pay the price of eternity?

Stopping the hands of a clock wouldn’t be much different than a punishment delivered from the deepest depths of hell.

How could mortal medicine ever turn back the hands of a clock? Simple, it can’t.

Nothing can. 

To forever freeze a sinking ship between the thundering skies of life and the endless pits of death, doomed to never drown but never be resuced for eternity.

A fate worse than anything on the two polar opposite sides. 

It’d be plain cruel. Childishly cruel. 

Alhaitham wouldn’t do that to you, he couldn’t do that to you. 

Instead, he simply held your hand tight. Taking away any fear, any anxieties, any regrets as your body sank deeper beneath the waves, until the furrow between your brows disappeared.

Watching the peace gracing your features as your head descends into the murky depths. 

Letting your fingers slip through the gaps in his as he stays atop his floating raft of immortality. 

Letting your gold bands catch on each other one last time. Letting the laws of nature and unnamed gods pull you away from his side, forever concealing you behind a wall he’ll never be able to peer over. 

As it was fated to be, he knows. 

If you had a healthy body, one that could live up to 80 years… maybe a little more, you wouldn’t have chosen him.

You never would’ve signed a contract.

You never would’ve cast a passing glance at him on the street. 

You would’ve embraced another, one who could walk hand and hand with you through the garden gates.

You didn’t ask to be born with that body, and he didn’t ask to be born with his. 

Paths predestined at birth to never fully merge, a wall forever dividing them. 

Yet, during the brief time they touched, the scenery was breathtaking.

If he had finite time, a body exhausted by late nights of piled-up assignments, with nothing but twenty mora to his name. 

He’d choose that over sitting in an empty house with luxurious furniture, excessive assets sitting to rot in bank vaults, and a silk-covered bed too big for a singular body. 

He’d choose to be the one who could walk through the gates of the Pardis Dhyai, hand and hand with you. 

--

Only in a mirage could that exist. 

Sitting across a small kitchen table, him with his instant coffee, you with your dining hall stolen tea.

Notepad given out by some random campus event being scribbled on. Ballpoint pen jotting down the items carefully calculated: Milk, eggs, and more cup noodles. 

Only in a dream could he sit in the bright rays of a star, enjoying its warmth side by side with you. 

Alhaitham shuts off the TV, the greeting songs of birds from outside closed curtains now creeping through.

Slowly his frame emerges from its sedentary position, the dust cloth long forgotten to the side. 

A sofa is no proper place to rest. Maybe clean sheets can replicate the purpose of cold dirt.

Such futile thoughts, unbefitting of such a noble creature. 

But, he's been craving sleep lately, longing for the warmth of a fantastical sun. 

Fin~

©️vivalabunbun DON’T PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS. 

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Unsated Needs.

Pairing: Yandere!Miguel x Reader (Spider-verse).

Commissioned by the very lovely @kiakaiba.

Word Count: 3.1k.

TW: AFAB!Reader, Venom!Reader, Sub!Miguel, Rough Sex, Biting/Blood, Everything's Consensual But Reader's So Pissed About It, Tentacle Sex, Threesome (?), Semi-Public Sex, Implied Stalking, and Obsessive Behavior.

[Based On This Drabble]

Miguel found you in a narrow alleyway, gore dripping from your teeth and tar writhing against your skin.

From a distance, he thought you might’ve been injured. Braced against a rusting chain-link fence that could barely hold your weight, bulking arms crossed over your torso, swallowed entirely by your symbiote – he could already picture a bloody gash in your side, a lead pipe embedded in flesh and organ, a cluster of eye-searing colors and patterns slowly eating away at some vital part of you. He could feel his pulse beating against his ears, his throat tightening with a familiar anxiety no amount of anger and exhaustion could seem to drown out, but of course, his panic was wasted on you. With another step, a closer look, he could see that the blood dripping from your teeth wasn’t your own, that you were holding your stomach, not your chest.

He realized, as he stepped into your line of sight, as you shot to face him with a violent snarl, that you weren’t hurt. You weren’t injured.

You were hungry.

No, starving. He’d seen symbiotes waiting to be sent back to their original dimensions exhibit similar behavior: a slight shake in your shoulder, a certain rattle in your chest, a wildness in the pupilless eyes of the mask you rarely wore, outside of your sporadic fights. It was in your voice, too, in the hollowness your hostility couldn’t seem to fill. “What do you want?” you spat, and it occurred to him that he couldn’t remember the last time you raised your voice around him. It wasn’t your style. You were the silent, skulking type. This was pure defensiveness, the rabid thrashing of a cornered. This was desperation. “Take a step closer, and I swear I’ll—”

“Bite me.”

Your shoulders jutted upward, claws sprouting from your curled fingers. Your symbiote’s thrashing slowed, the black tar of its faux skin clinging that much closer to your own, and when you failed to respond, he repeated himself, fighting not to let his voice shake. “What are you waiting for? Take a bite out of me.”

A scarlet tongue slipped past your jagged teeth, lapping over the lips of your mask. It took everything he had not to picture that tongue wrapped around his cock, or better yet, your mouth closed around his lower body as it fucked him open. “Little heroes don’t usually ask to be eaten.”

“I said you can have a bite. Taking anything more, and I’ll be forced to treat you like a threat.” You didn’t move, but he could feel your eyes boring into him, the weight of your attention pressing into his chest, making it difficult to breathe. If only to distract himself, he went on. “Heroes help people, and you look like you’re about to—”

Whatever remaining patience you had thinned and snapped before he could finish. There was a low growl, a flash of pure darkness, and then, familiar tendrils were tangled around his wrists, his ankles, his neck and dragged him upward, until his feet no longer touched the ground. His own claws lashed out reflexively, but he stopped himself from attacking your symbiote, from so much as taking a breath before you surged forward and buried your teeth in his side, tearing through the nano-fabric in the blink of an eye and biting down.

He’d seen you eat, before – caught you hunched over corpses mutilated beyond the hope of identification, seen you strip flesh from bone in a matter of seconds. This was different. This wasn’t just gluttony, it was wrath, anger rolling off of you in waves as you tore away, rending flesh from muscle and swallowing it down. His suit reacted immediately – isolating the injured area with a plaster-like bandage and injecting a thousand microscopic numbing agents around the perimeter of the wound, but still, he could feel the burn spreading outward, filling his veins and distorting his vision. He could feel his mouth falling open, a deep groan catching his throat before he could vocalize his agony. He could feel his cock, throbbing underneath the taut fabric of his suit, already aching for your attention.

But, you were preoccupied. Your mouth fell to his thigh, tearing away another strip of flesh and tissue. The wound was smaller than the first, but deeper, the points of your curved teeth piercing his skin and sending pangs of pure electricity to the pit of his stomach. This time, there was little he could do to stop himself from reacting, from clenching his eyes shut and letting out a noise – cracked, guttural, as pained as it was wanting. It was humiliating, how easily you could make him abandon his dignity. It was pathetic, the things he was willing to do just to be close to you.

You lingered there, lapping at his blood until you’d drunken your fill before pulling away. With more than a little satisfaction, he noted that it was his blood staining your teeth, dripping down your lips and coating the slick skin of your symbiote as you snapped your fingers, as your mask recoiled and your symbiote sunk below your neck. You could never seem to hide your face, not from him, not for very long. He couldn’t say he was much better. If his society wasn’t at-risk, he would’ve given up his identity for the chance to hear his name roll off your tongue. “You’re so full of shit.” It was your voice, now – just your voice, the reverberation of your symbiote’s tenor no long playing beside your own. “You’ve been following me around for months, and you still think I’d believe you’re just trying to be a good little spider? How many hours have you spent begging us to fuck you when you could’ve been playing hero? How many people have you let me eat because you wanted to get your dick wet?”

Dozens. Hundreds. Thousands. He tried to justify it, sometimes, to do his research on the handful of bodies you left in more or less one piece and tell himself that all of your victims must’ve been abusive husbands or rich bastards or cops, but he would’ve served you a new corpse every night if it meant you’d keep holding him like this, your symbiote around his neck and your warm breath fanning over his open wounds, if it meant you’d keep touching him – your fingertips skirting over the edge of his injury before coming to rest just below his hip. “Drop the suit.”

He didn’t hesitate. Your scowl deepened as his suit glitched and dissolved, leaving only the upper half of his mask in-tact, but your symbiote didn’t seem to share your animosity. Its touch was teasing, its mannerisms playful – the tendrils around his ankles rising and forcing his knees to bend, another pair binding his thighs to his calves and spreading his legs as far apart as his advanced flexibility would allow. There was a pitchy chirping noise – the sound meaningless to him but, apparently, comprehensible enough to you.

Your frown quirked but, with another round of probing from your symbiote, you reached out and wrapped your fist around his aching cock, your grip too tight not to be taken as a sign of aggression. You didn’t move, didn’t shift, but he bucked into your hand reflexively, gritting his teeth to keep himself from moaning and fueling his own degradation. Even that effort was quickly proved futile – gone the moment you drove the heel of your palm into the base of his cock and a truly broken whimper was ripped out of something weak and vulnerable in his chest. He was already leaking onto your hand, pearls of white pre-cum following the curve of your knuckles and staining the cement at your feet. You watched it drip with disgust before your eyes flickered up to meet his.

You opened your mouth, but whatever insult you planned to throw his way was immediately drowned out by a trembling moan, the fragile sound drawn out of him by the feeling of another tendril against his body, snaking down the curve of his spine. This one was flatter than the rest – wide and tongue-like, slick against his skin. Not against his will but rather his better judgement, he arched into it, his eyes remaining fixed on yours as the newest tendril groped at his ass, taking its exploration slowly. Your grip tightened, your thumb swiping over the swollen tip too quickly not to sting. “Take a deep breath, Spider-Boy.”  

He tried to ask what you meant, but the tendril’s tapered point pushed into him as soon as his lips parted. He’d rolled this scenario over in his mind a thousand times, pumped his cock as he fucked himself to the point of tears on one of the silicone monstrosities Lyla liked to order behind his back when his wandering mind started to affect his multi-dimension work, but he never could’ve imagined how cold it would be inside of him, the involuntary shudder that’d run from his feet to his shoulders as your symbiote pushed farther into his ass, filling him in a single thrust. A distinct, spiraled ridge ran down the length of the tendril, adding an alien sensation that only did more to damage his tenuous composure. Its pace, too, threatened to tear him apart; back-breaking fast and unpredictably sporadic, thrusting into him with enough force to leave his hands curling around whatever part of your symbiote that he could reach. He wasn’t sure he would’ve been able to hold himself upright without the restraints around his wrists and ankles, didn’t know if he would’ve been able to survive without the oppressive weight of your repulsion – your narrow glare there to keep him grounded while your symbiote did its best to break him open.

“I—” He wasn’t sure why he bothered. He wasn’t sure why he tried when his voice caught on every other word, when he could hardly get enough air into his lung to stay conscious. “I— Fuck, is it supposed to—”

“Don’t think about it.” You cut him off before he could struggle though the rest, letting go of his cock and shoving two fingers past his lips. He gagged, but you didn’t pull back, forcing him to adjust to the digits lodged halfway down his throat. “This is already more than you deserve. Just be thankful Reaper thinks you’re cute when you’re pathetic.”

Cute.

Cute.

You called him cute.

He let out an airy moan, clenching his eyes shut and throwing his hips back, encouraging your symbiote to thrust that much deeper, to be that much rougher with him. His meager efforts were rewarded with another pair of tendrils – the writhing tissue massaging his pecs and toying with his nipples, hardened from exposure and sensitive from neglect. The tendril inside of him slowed, but whatever friction might’ve been lost was immediately replaced by a new trail of smooth ridges and defined veins, a bulbed knot at the base, a blunt head that seemed to grind against every spot that made him twitch, every spot that made him gasp and thrash and want more.

The newest wave of his desperation seemed to spark something in you – interest, maybe, or jealousy, it was hard to tell. Either way, when you pulled your fingers out of his mouth, he leaned forward to try and chase your touch, letting out a low whine when you retreated farther than he could reach, wiping your hand on your thigh. You didn’t keep your distance for long, though. Wordlessly, you allowed your symbiote to lift you off of the ground and up to Miguel’s height, keeping you suspended while you wrapped your legs around his waist. Your suit didn’t pull back, didn’t melt away, only pressing flush to your skin, only making it that much easier for you to slot yourself against him. Your symbiote held him taut as you straddled him, taking agonizing seconds to take his pulsing cock in your hand and, just as slowly, to align the leaking head with your cunt. You started to move your hips, but paused, looking toward him. “Do you know what the worst part is?” Without the strength to speak, he just shook his head. You didn’t press for more. “We would’ve gotten rid of you months ago, if I thought Reaper could stomach it.” You spared him the ghost of a smile. “She says you taste like something that’s already started to rot.”

Aided by your symbiote, you lowered yourself onto him, the tendril in his ass thrusting into him at the same time and forcing his cock that much deeper into you, giving him that much less time to brace himself before he was fully enveloped by your cunt.

He made it all of half a second before coming undone inside of you.

The hours he’d spent fucking his fist to grainy security camera footage and his own deranged fantasies couldn’t begin to compare. You were so hot around him, and wet, and the sound of your breathy laugh as he felt his own cum flood into the gaps between your convulsing walls and his cock had him seeing stars. “Fuck,” you muttered, your tone equal parts shock and amusement. “You’re so fucking needy. Just how long have you been waiting for this?”

If it’d been difficult to talk before, it was near-impossible now. You were working in-tandem with your symbiote; your hips slamming against his in time with its tendril’s thrashing, making sure he was always either being fucked full or milked dry. His climax clearly didn’t matter to either of you. If anything, his hyper-sensitivity only seemed to spur you on, make you more determined to draw choked whimpers and gasping moans out of some deep, long-buried part of him. “Months,” he managed, eventually, spitting the words out through his own ragged panting. “Years – as long as I’ve known about you.”

You hummed, and Miguel drank it in like praise. “Did you want me and Reaper, or just her? Be honest. I promise I’ll try my best not to be jealous.”

Just you. It’d always just been you. Your symbiote was like a parasite, latching onto his thoughts of you and your lips and the feeling of your skin against his and perverting them, tinting them with talons and teeth and a cock the size of his forearm. He wanted you, but he’d take anything you had to give him. “You, I just wanted— Christ, I’d give anything for you to—"

The tendrils on his chest flattened over his nipples and squeezed, forming a wet suction that had him seeing white in a matter of seconds. He threw his head forward, but you didn’t let him escape you for very long – taking him by the chin, burrowing what remained of your claws into his jaw. He could feel skin break underneath your touch, his blood start to trickle down his neck, but didn’t dare pull away, melting into your touch without hesitation. “That’s very rude. She’s doing so much for you, and yet, you  still have the nerve to be so ungrateful.” Your grin was blatant, now, dripping with smug condescension. He’d give anything to see that grin again, to be at its mercy every day. He’d give anything to kiss you. “This is why no one likes you, Spider-boy. You have a pretty face, but you ruin it for yourself every time you open your mouth.”

Pretty. Pretty. Pretty. He couldn’t think about anything else, couldn’t seem to stop himself from lurching forward, wrenching out of your hold. His mouth crashed into yours, the connection all bruised lips and gnashing teeth, only sustained by your shock and his own desperation. The taste of his blood was still heavy on your lips, but he didn’t care, letting out a throaty moan as he sunk against you. He wanted to be close to you. He wanted to be inseparable from you. He wanted to be a part of you. He wanted to—

You jerked back, your fist colliding with his cheek a moment later. It wasn’t a slap, playful and open-handed, or a love-tap, but a punch, meant to get him away for you and make him want to stay away. Pain ricocheted through his skull, his ears ringing and his senses suddenly fogged. It didn’t matter, though. The euphoria of knowing there’d be a mark the next day, of knowing he’d be able to carry a part of you for weeks, was enough to send him over the edge, to leave him humping your cunt and pumping his cum into you for the second time in a matter of minutes. He could’ve stayed like that forever, for as long as you’d have him. Your symbiote could’ve swallowed him whole, and he would’ve died happy.

You didn’t share the sentiment. You didn’t even wait for the aftershocks to fade before clicking your tongue. Your symbiote recoiled, peeling itself off of him, keeping you suspended while Miguel collapsed onto the cement, the rough pavement scraping at his exposed skin. You, on the other hand, were lowered slowly onto your feet, your suit regaining its usual mass as you came to stand above him. “Next time you want to get laid,” you started, wiping off your mouth with the back of your hand. “Stick to your hand. Or else Reaper might find a way to choke down more than a bite.”

He heard your footsteps, the rattling of some rusted fire-escape, and then you were gone, off to lurk in the shadows and stalk your next meal. With a deep breath, a groan of exertion, he rolled onto his back, basking in the cloud of bliss still hanging over him. Eventually, when he was ready, he spoke into the empty air. “Lyla.”

There was a flash of yellow, a near-blinding light. She appeared to his side, hands covering her eyes. “Is it over?” Her fingers split apart. “Can I please put your suit back on?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” He groaned as he sat up, every muscle in his body drenched in agony. Nano-fabric crept down from his neck, covering his bruised skin and leaking cock, engulfing him entirely. He mourned not being able to see the marks you’d left on him, but it was a necessary separation and, more importantly, a temporary separation. There wouldn’t be anything able to keep him away from you, soon enough. “Cancel everything on my schedule. Jessica’s in-charge until I get back.”

“What should I tell her you’re doing, boss man?”

He flicked his wrist, a holographic screen flickering into existence at his fingertips. A grid-coded map of Nueva York splayed itself out in front of him. A couple seconds later, a blinking dot appeared only a few blocks away from his current position, moving quickly. You were in a rush, tonight.

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He’d have to take care of the other eleven tracking chips, the ones planted in the spots you hadn’t taken a bite out of, later on. It could wait. Everything could wait until he’d gotten his fill of you – that was, if he ever could.

“Tell her I’m getting fucked.”