#when i was just starting to shape this universe in my head

[honeybcj]

Could you pretty please give us some rosekiller hcs as you did for jeggy

oh nonnie i would absolutely love to give some of my rosekiller hcs <3 (i’ve copied over some from my “domestic hc” list, so those will be first and i’ve added some other ones on as well!)

— evan actually really enjoys cooking meals for the two of them, even if barty is an absolute nuisance in the kitchen. always stealing kisses and slapping his ass. stirring whatever is in the pot and pretending like he knows exactly what he’s doing (secretly he does know what he’s doing, but he loves when evan cooks for him, and evan is more than happy to indulge him <3)

— barty is a stress cleaner! he’s not always tidy, actually rather frequently he outright refuses to make the bed or will forget to wash his dishes, but then he goes and has one minor inconvenience and evan will come home to the couch on the other side of the room and the pantry reorganized by the color of each item.

— save water, shower together. there’s not a single chance you’ll find either of them showering on their own. they say it’s for the environment, but truthfully they are just severely connected at the hip, and barty wants any excuse to see evan naked

— evan will (and does) steal the same hoodie of barty’s anytime he is cold. might as well be part of his closet at this point. and before they actually started dating, barty would go out of his way to make sure it was clean every time evan came over even if it meant forking over four extra dollars worth of quarters and dealing with the bitchy lady at the laundromat (i did, in fact, include this hc in like smoke behind glass)

— i have it on good authority that for valentine’s day barty tried to bake evan a heart shaped cake (vanilla with raspberry jam and vanilla bean frosting), but he fucked it up real bad and forgot the LITERAL SUGAR but evan still plastered on the fakest damn smile and told him he was proud of barty

— freaky ass mfs. barty loves to receive praise while degrading someone else, and this dynamic works out really well between him and evan because evan finds a thrill in how barty’s eyes roll to the back of his head when he’s praised and how vulgar and open it makes him feel to be degraded by barty

— there’s a universe where barty is a dirtbag runner ( @moon-seas the idea has not left my head once) and he’s dry scooping preworkout before he goes on his runs while evan is swirling his little glass straw around his cup of fucking fresh pressed cucumber and kale juice

— evan’s obsessed with barty’s teeth, pretty much just teeth in general. and next thing you know evan is investing in a full 1940s style dentist chair that he keeps in his “lab” just so he can strap barty down and start analyzing his teeth until his little heart is content and barty’s just wooed the entire time like “oh wow, yeah, that one’s mine”

— their fucking is a bit clinical meet freak show if that even makes any sense whatsoever. it does it me and i stand by it!

— barty is a wannabe punk skater-boy but he’s more like if a possum got thrown into a bucket of water in the middle of hot topic in 2007 if you catch my drift and then evan is this cadaverous little puppet with an oddly ethereal quality that is both concerning and captivating. it’s like if the bean stalk from jack and the bean stalk got a little cunty, twinky man to be his boyfriend

[coldflasher]

thinking about how im literally on like. the 8th draft of my novel, but i've still never actually come up with a full, beginning-to-end readable draft without bits missing or repeated scenes or entire chapters in the wrong order

lol

[exuvianen]

dating hc's with dr. ratio, aventurine + blade!

headcanons about what these hsr men do in a relationship witth you <3

cw: x reader, gn! reader (no physical descriptions), mostly fluff, sfw, headcanon style

notes: hsr brainrot… ahahaha... i hope i have a fairly good grasp on these characters and wrote them well. 

wc: ~1050 words, around 350 words per character. all under the cut!

feel free to drop an ask or to add on to my thoughts! likes + rbs are appreciated  <3

✎ Dr. Ratio:

He likes parallel play, or being alone together with you. He works on his own projects, like grading papers or writing a new thesis while you’re doing your own thing, like playing video games or reading. Occasionally, he might ask you for your input, such as ideas about his next thesis or what pose he should sculpt himself into next. 

He has a spare desk and chair for you in his office. You can choose to do work or entertain yourself there when you visit him and he’s still teaching a lecture, but feel free to take a nap on the plush sofa he bought just for you. 

He will nag you about your health but in an annoyingly endearing way. He fusses over you, telling you about appropriate attire for today’s weather, offering you an umbrella, and reminding you to drink water. 

He entertains all your ideas, no matter how silly or illogical. He’ll hear you out on anything you say, though he might have some very strong disagreements or objections to your ideas, especially if they are silly or completely nonsensical. However, he never turns you away when you bound up to him with a mischievous gleam in your eyes - he just sighs and prepares himself mentally to hear whatever goofiness comes out of your mouth. 

He’s your biggest cheerleader, supporter, and advocate. Though he may come off as intimidating, he is always willing to help advance your career or work. He has many connections and vast knowledge of the universe after all - why not utilize them for his beloved? 

He’s very good at dispelling any irrational thoughts in your head. If you’re panicking and your mind is disoriented, he’ll sit next to you and hold your hand gently, but firmly to ground you. He doesn’t speak at all when you vent out all your frustration, confusion, or anger - rather, he’s silently contemplative and then asks questions when you finish talking. He’ll indirectly guide you to a solution while gently calming you down as he dispels those pesky thoughts from your head.

He makes a custom alabaster head for you. 

♤ Aventurine:

A big fan of matching accessories and clothing. You don’t need to wear the exact same outfit, but he likes wearing complementary colors and jewelry to yours.

If you’d like, he’d be more than happy to bring you to casinos and public events with him. He wants to show off to you and let you witness his wit, talent, and skill like a peacock presenting its colorful feathers. 

He likes it a lot when you trace his skin through the spade-shaped hole in his outfit.

He hates the feeling of being vulnerable, but he likes being around you. This creates conflicting emotions inside of him. Oftentimes, he doesn’t know how to deal with it and just lurks by you. Pull him into a hug to quiet the voices in his head. 

He will send you packages or luxury items from the planets he’s visiting. You’ll be greeting a disgruntled Topaz or IPC soldiers at your door as they hand you various gifts ranging from limited-edition jewelry to flowers that bloom only once every 200 amber eras. He gifts extremely grand things, but he always knows how to find things that suit your tastes.

He’s a big spender on you. If you’re unused to the amount of money he’s willing to throw at you, he’s going to give you a lot of “exposure therapy” with his generosity. He’ll invite you to private auctions, lavish galas, luxury boutiques, and high-end jewelry stores. He’ll start filling your wardrobe with tailor-made clothes with the excuse that you should match his outfits when you attend formal events together, but his clothing contributions eventually infiltrate your closet pretty deeply. 

He enjoys being pampered and pampering you. Self-care nights are a must - as a representative of the IPC and one of the ten Stonehearts, he has to keep himself presentable and looking sharp, and that goes for his partner too! He’s more than happy to spend money to fund your trips to the salon or buy you any beauty products to use at home. He’d love to put on face masks together and share a drink or two with you. 

☠︎︎ Blade:

If you want to, and Elio’s script permits, he will bring you along on missions to safer planets. He’ll drop you off at a commercial district - feel free to go shopping or try out some novelty food while he wraps up his Stellaron Hunter business.

He likes getting his hair brushed. One of his favorite activities is sitting down and letting you comb through his hair after he cleans up from a mission. It’s an activity that leaves him vulnerable, but he doesn’t mind if it’s with you.

He’s an acts of service kind of guy. He moves to take your bags before you even say anything, holds open doors, and pulls out chairs for you. Brings you a cup of water and some fruit when you’ve been working for too long, and silently drapes his jacket over you when you shiver.

Tell him you like a certain pastry and he’ll show up every day and bring some. Show him a picture of a pretty flower and he’s boarding a spaceship to bring the flower to you personally. If you want something, he’ll do his best to get it.

He’s pretty quiet, but he’ll remember everything you say, what your preferences are, and what you like. He secretly writes it down in case his memory gets murky, and he’ll often reread his notes to remind himself.

He gives simple but traditional gifts to you, such as jade bracelets and pendants, and combs and hairpins if you have longer hair to wear or use them.*

He’ll treasure anything you gift to him. If you make an accessory for him, he wears it at all times. If your gift is small enough, he’ll stow it safely in his pockets and take it everywhere with him.

If family is important to you, he’ll send funds their way and ensure that they’re taken care of. 

As someone who’s often dead and then undead, his body can get stiff. He’ll enjoy it immensely if you massage him, and accompany him for his daily stretches and calisthenics. Even if you just hold him for a while, he finds that his muscles will relax from the warmth emitting from your body. Therefore, he quite appreciates having you physically near him.

* Combs, hairpins, Jade bracelets, and pendants were given as tokens of love and affection in Ancient China. These gifts have a deeper meaning/symbolism, but for the sake of post length, I did not write them all out. 

[famwhy]

Bereavement

noun

/bɪˈriːv.mənt/ The state one is in when losing someone important to them

Spiderman: Across the Spiderverse

42! Miles X F!Reader, 1610! Miles X F!Reader

Synopsis: Miles is missing, and all you can think about is getting him back. Upon finally finding him, however, you're taken aback by the copy that stands beside him—the same copy that was staring at you with wide, shaking eyes full of... disbelief?

Note: this one's for my cousin. The idea actually came to me while I was rewatching the first spiderverse lmao. Who knew Kingpin was such a source of ideas?

part two.

You saw it—on the control panel—42. Miles had been transported to Earth 42.

You belonged to 1610; which meant that Miles also belonged to 1610.

He was in the wrong universe.

Your best friend was stranded in the wrong universe.

Now, if you were a rational person, you would've called for back-up—maybe even gotten Hobie's help like Gwen had. But you weren't a rational person—and could anyone blame you?—your best friend was probably in danger, of course you would act without thinking.

The watch wasn't hard to swipe, everyone was too caught up in what had just happened with Miles to care for guarding their little 'goober' dimension devices. Tracking him down wasn't terribly difficult either, not after you knew which world he went to.

All you really needed to think about was where exactly you had to open the portal—but luckily for you, Margo was willing to help.

"You owe me for this, by the way." Her head tilted your way, lids narrowed in a sassy look you dismissed with a wave of your hand.

"Yeah, okay, what're his coordinates?"

With a roll of her eyes—that you very much thought was quite rude—she gave you just what you needed; his exact coordinates.

The assortment of colours and geometric shapes appeared before you with a few taps of your finger against the cold device, flitting across the room in a bright blur of pure chaos that hurt your eyes to look at—

—but you would endure it; if only for Miles' sake.

"This is stupid, by the way—" you turned, facing the girl who insisted on making a snide comment every five seconds, "—you're not even a spiderperson."

"Says the girl who's speaking to me through a VR headset and isn't actually here right now," you growled.

"Careful, I can shut this whole thing down right now and tell Miguel what you're planning," she returned your apprehension with crossed arms, brows furrowing even further.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you sighed, "it's just— I'm worried about him. Please don't tell Miguel. Miles has saved me so many times, it's time I save him for once."

You assumed you must've looked rather pitiful for her features to have softened up, arms falling limp by her side as she, too, gave a sigh; though hers sounded like it stemmed from a different type of exasperation to yours.

"Just... go. Before I change my mind—preferably."

You gave her the brightest smile you could muster, hoping to god she could see all the appreciation in it—and there was a lot—before turning back around to take a step into the portal.

"Miles! I'm here to—"

As soon as you walked through, you were met with a dark room—though, that wasn't what caught your attention. Instead, your wide eyes landed on that familiar hanging bag, beat down and bits of its material flaked off.

Chained up to it, was your very own, Miles Morales. And stood directly opposite to him was... also Miles Morales?

Alright, you were aware of this whole 'spiderverse' thing but you didn't think it would be this trippy.

"...save you?"

They were both staring directly at you, however, the expressions situated on their faces were vastly different.

Miles—your Miles—had his eyes blown wide, shaky pupils not leaving your form for a second, even as he started frantically shaking his head from left to right, he still remained in eye-contact with you.

The other Miles also had his eyes blown wide. This time, however, it wasn't in warning—no—his pupils were dilated and his form stood rigid; still as a statue.

"Cariño..." he whispered; so much breath in his voice, it barely sounded like words were coming out.

"Y/N! You have to get out of here!" Your Miles yelled, pulling at his chains as though it would get him any closer to you.

You scoffed. "And leave you? I don't think so."

"Don't worry about me! You have to—"

"Cariño."

You blinked, casting your gaze back over to the other Miles—who now stood much closer to you than before. He was just an arm's length away, in fact, how did you not notice him approach you?

"Mi vida, oh Y/N..." his voice was soft as he spoke—quiet and coated in an emotion you were unfamiliar with—hand moving up to your cheek to gently trace a cold, steel claw over it.

"Hey!" The sound of metal chains clicking grew more frantic from behind him. "Stay away from her! Don't you dare hurt her!"

Either the Miles in front of you was ignoring your friend on purpose, or he genuinely didn't hear him, because he continued to do as he was doing—continued to give you shivers from the icy material against your cheek.

Then, all too suddenly, he flew into your torso, engulfing you in a hug so tight—so inextricably emotional—you stumbled back a little from the sheer intensity of it all.

"You're alive..." he breathed out—and it was then that you finally understood what the tone of his voice was. "You're really, truly alive. Oh mi cariño, I've missed you so much."

"Wha—?"

"Lo siento... lo siento." He buried his face into the crook of your neck and the surface of your skin slowly grew wet, your collar soaking up. "I didn't get there in time, I couldn't save you."

You and your Miles shared a glance.

You saw your reflection in his eyes; the look of shock on his face; the scenes that flashed through his pupils. You saw a fear in him, one unlike anything you had ever seen before.

You saw your near-death experience replay right before him.

"Te quiero—" the other Miles—the one holding you—grounded you once more with his words as he pulled away just enough to look you in the eyes and continue, "—you know that, right? I'm so sorry for not saying it before. If you hadn't— if you never— I'm so sorry."

The phrase shocked you, sending an electric pulse down your spine and rendering you utterly immobile.

"I always have. For the longest time. It's always been you. It's always—only—ever been you."

If what he was saying was true... then—?

"Y/N!"

Suddenly, the metal against your hips was replaced by the familiar silky material you were used to; the one worn by your Miles.

"Miles," you breathed out, looking all around you to see the shattered glass that flew in the wind—scattering in all different directions as the warmth of the inside abandoned you.

"I'm gonna need you to hold on, okay?"

You nodded.

Then, you glanced behind him, catching sight of the familiar geometric mask of the Prowler—sharp claws out—coming in hot and fast and furious.

"Miles—!"

"I know, mami, I know. I need you to trust me for a minute, alright? You know I'll never let you get hurt."

You nodded once more, nails digging into his dark suit as you buried your face directly into his chest. You felt yourself flow through the air, swiftly moving as the wind worked against you, pushing back on your hair as though you were its worst enemy.

It was nice. It was fun. It was... bound to go wrong.

One moment, you were safe, all coddled up in Miles' arms as he swung through the sky—the next?—

—you were falling.

"Y/N!"

(Note: I feel like I need to address this because some people seem to be misunderstanding what I'm doing with Margo.

First of all, Margo is not AT ALL being mean in Bereavement. The whole of that fic is written in the Reader's perspective (and I'll prolly end up writing something in both Miles' perspective too) - this makes her an unreliable narrator so you can't trust the way the story is being told to you is 100% accurate to the true events.

At the start, the Reader is frustrated because she knows her best friend is stranded on another universe - this makes her unfairly take out her frustration on Margo when she thinks lines like 'who always seemed to have to say something every five seconds' (paraphrased).

Margo thus responds accordingly (as she should) and although she threatens to tell Miguel, she never actually would because she is legit one of the only real ones in the movie. So no, to those commenters that were accusing me of making her 'aggressive' cuz she was black - that is not what I'm doing at all. I am writing the Reader's perspective after just having lost her best friend.

Margo is the only one helping. She is literally being kind to the Reader. If anything, the Reader is the one being rude to her but again, that's because her best friend is missing which isn't an excuse but definitely an explanation.)

[fortheloveofleon]

So, what if reader as spider person do smth WRONG like bad wrong, miguel got pissed (an understatement) and they run from miguel, they manage to hide from miguel for a good while but miguel eventually catch them, some fight happens and miguel has had enough he broke some bones and made sure the other spider person also couldn't do anything (the venom thing). The rest is up to you!

WICKED GAMES

⊱ Pairing: Yandere!Miguel x Spider!Reader

⊱ Summary: You decided to test Miguel’s limits and took something that didn’t belong to you. So, what’s the obvious response when the most terrifying Spiderman finds out? You hide. Unfortunately for you, Miguel enjoys the “seek” part a bit too much.

⊱ Contents: 18+, Yandere!Miguel, Dark Content, Scary? Content, Jealousy, Dub-Con, Non-Con, Dom!Miguel, Hate-Fucking, Face Slapping, Orgasm (M+F), Primal Kink, Biting, Creampie, Choking, Man-Handling, Hair Pulling.

Heavy footsteps fall to the concrete with each stride you take, lunging forward in a panicked haste. Soft breaths tremble in your lungs. The tightness in your chest grows and grows as you head further through streets.

Iridescent lights flicker above your head, and the smell of metal is making your eyes glass over. Even whilst slinking through these dingy streets and crooked alleys, you still haven’t entirely made out where you actually are.

And it’s all your fault.

Is it that bad you wanted to be treated like an adult?

You’re a grown woman. A Spider.

But Miguel refused to see you as such, always keeping an eye on you “just in case.”

You were sick of feeling like glass, and you were determined to prove yourself, so you made a wrong decision that just felt so right at the time;

You stole a portal watch from his lab.

Your naïve belief of thinking Miguel wouldn’t find out only made matters worse, and made him fucking livid when he did.

Thanks to a tip from Hobie back at Headquarters, you’ve managed to get a head start. So here you are, jumping from universe to universe, world to world, trying to escape the consequences.

After what seems like hours of running, you’ve arrived in some sort of warehouse, dead and silent. Dripping pipes and crunching glass are the only sounds accompanying your heaving breaths.

But just when you thought you’re safe, a sudden whirring noise rings through the air, echoing around you.

There’s a hovering gash, pulsing and glowing, omitting a flurry of blue particles. A burst of sparks, red and orange, rip open this cosmic, hexagonal wound to reveal a vacuum of time and space.

You make out a burly shape slipping out of it.

The portal leaves as quickly as it came, disappearing in a flash of light. A masked figure stands on the deserted warehouse floor, unmoving.

Using your webs, you pull yourself up to the beams of the roof, hiding and looking down.

You already know who it is.

Pulling the navy mask from his face, wavy hair ruffled and eyes dark, Miguel looks around the seemingly vacant room — you’re nowhere to be seen.

“I know you’re in here,” he drawls out, voice heavy. “It’ll be a lot quicker for me, and easier on you, if you just come out now.”

You say nothing, waiting with bated breath.

So does he.

He clicks his tongue, eyes rolling in irritation.

“Fucking…fine!” the brunette tuts, teeth gnashing together, chest heaving as he sighs. “You want to play a little hide-and-seek? Be my guest.”

Right now, you’re barely paying attention to his rambling; your gaze remains locked on a chance of escape.

Embedded in a wall across the room, is a vent.

You might get to it. If you’re quick enough.

Doing your best to stay quiet, perched on the balls on your feet, you slink across the metal beam, using only the webs of your palms to move with haste.

Shuddery breaths slip through your lips as you pull yourself closer to freedom.

“Oh, I forgot to mention one thing,” Miguel‘s voice echoes out from somewhere down below.

But, stupidly, you pause.

You take the chance to peek down, and the sight makes your heart fall — Miguel is stood by a light switch, one sharp finger resting against the button.

He’s looking straight at you, eyes crinkled in a humourless smile.

“We’re playing by my rules.”

And suddenly, the room flickers into a sea of black.

You manage to bury your scream somewhere between your chest and throat. One hand remains slapped over your mouth, tears pouring silently. You cling to the rafter, pressing your whole body down, swallowing wordless pleas.

Cold metal grunts beneath your nails. The sounds of creaking and shuffling echo around you, calling out in the dark.

Then, it’s eerily silent.

Hallowed breaths shake from your ribs. Your throat burns, and you blink rapidly, trying to find some sense of direction in this surrounding inky abyss.

But it’s no use; you need to get out here now.

You muster up the courage to drop to the floor, perching on the balls of your feet. Droplets of water splash around you, and force back a squeal, fists clenched, adrenaline rushing.

You swivel around, waiting for the reach of a clawed hand.

Still, nothing.

Unbeknownst to you, Miguel’s fighting back to urge to pounce on you right now, forcing his hand away from his crotch. But the look of pure anguish on your face has his cock harder than ever.

You’re pivoting on your feet every second, trying to make out where he can be.

It’s like he’s everywhere.

“Y’know, I had to force LYLA to show me your location on the Quantum Map?” his voice travels.

Gasping, you turn, swinging at the dark. White, hot thrill pulses through veins, pulsing through your body, tempting you with a high you can’t find anywhere else.

“Threatened to dismantle her software,” Miguel chuckles. You can hear the smirk in his tone. “It was funny, you should’ve heard her beg.”

“See?” you breathe out, head swivelling. “Even your personal AI knows you’re a fucking psycho,”

“That’s a pretty ballsy thing to say for someone who’s scared of me,” the dark calls out. The sound of deep laughter chimes around.

You swallow hard, blinking — it’s not a secret.

You are scared of him.

A majority of people, in the Spider Society or not, are scared of Miguel. He’s used to the looks of agitation, the fleeting glances, the scurrying.

But for some reason, he takes great pride knowing he can make you twitch.

“Do I scare you?�� he whispers, humming your name. He sounds so close, words brushing your ear.

Behind you, a heavy claw reaches out of the dark, running gently up your spine — a warning.

The movement has you rushing forward, scrambling away, hiccuping out a scream.

You start to run, panicked.

Where to, you don’t know, but you’re running, fast and blindly.

Shoes hitting the floor with each step, you stumble and drag yourself forward, staggering through this maze of black, feeling the walls for any sign of exit.

Miguel follows your movements, waiting for his moment to strike, hard and true.

He watches the way you pull the mask from your face, breathing heavily in frustration, nimble hands tugging at the bolted doors and windows.

He smiles, seeing the panic settle in on your features when you realise you’ve run out of web fluid, leaving you stranded on this warehouse floor.

Suddenly, he hears nails scratching the concrete. He watches on as you grope the floor blindly, feeling out for something.

“No,” you whisper to yourself. “S-shit, fucking shit!”

Then, it clicks. Finally, the last domino has fallen.

Miguel grins in the shadows, eyes resting on the puddle by his feet. A soft glow shimmers against the water, revealing something digital and sunken.

You’ve dropped your portal watch.

How could you have lost it? It was just on your wrist. How could have been so careless, so stupid? Now, you’re trapped.

No longer relying on your silence, you begin to kick hard at the chained doors, grunting and groaning as the iron jangles.

Right now, you don’t have the time to fucking critique yourself, you need to leave.

“Fucking. Open!” you breathe out, booting at the metal. The head of the lock begins to bend, the doors shaking under the weight of your blow.

But just as hope begins to beam, a sudden crackling thud booms above you.

You turn.

The end of the warehouse is flooded in light, fluorescents humming. As you peer down, a tall figure crouches, and stands, facing you.

Miguel’s grinning hard, fangs and claws on show.

Your stare, eyes wide, and begin to kick harder at the door.

Bang.

The second light follows, illuminating the ground with a musky yellow. That figure in the distance grows closer and closer.

You can hear his feet pounding against the floor.

Bang.

Just as the third light shines down, the door shatters out, and a scream crawls up from your throat.

Miguel lunges at you, fangs bared, tackling you to the ground.

Heavy hands wrap around your throat, crumpling your shrieks to mere cries as the pair of you topple.

You’re cursing, kicking, flailing as much as you could, pummelling at his chest, arms, anything you can reach.

The larger man has settled himself between your legs, pinning you to the floor.

“C’mon, tú zorra, keep hitting me,” he grunts, goading you with a grin. “Fucking see what happens.”

In the tussle, you manage to punch him hard in his ribs, releasing an audible crack.

Miguel sucks in a breath, cold through the teeth as his brows . His jaw is set, tense and square. Rich brown eyes growing ever darker.

Before you can even think, a fist locked in the tresses of your hair, yanking hard. Pain burns at your scalp as Miguel tugs your head to the side, exposing the flesh of your neck.

A flash of teeth, a shining wink of a blood-tinged fang. Then he bites down.

Hard.

The world blurs for a quick second.

You feel flesh tear, and the smell of hot, wet metal fills the air. Miguel is almost growling against you. Canines shift beneath your skin.

Something, warm and sticky, is dripping down your neck. The room feels so clammy all of a sudden.

Vision softening, everything is a wave of colours and sounds. You can barely slur out your confusion as Miguel’s hands run along the shape of you, ghosting your clothed cunt.

“Y’wanna act like a bitch, huh?” Miguel hisses — you feel fabric tearing, pulling against your skin. Goosebumps decorate your body as you lay half naked on the ground.

“Looks like I’ve gotta remind who fucking owns you.”

Two fingers push against your mouth, and you’re too weak to fight against them. Saliva escapes from the corners of your lips and covers your chin as Miguel’s digits press against your tongue.

He tastes like blood and salt.

Your eyes flutter shut as you moan around his fingers, blinking out tears.

“You pathetic little slut,” Miguel’s huffing out a laugh, grasping your face, thrusting his middle and forefinger back and forth, grinning as you choke.

Miguel feels your fingers careening against the stiff muscle of his forearm creeping along his shoulders to find home in his hair, ready to pull again.

He jolts, moving quick to pin them against the floor with one heavy hand— despite the Rapture flowing through your bloodstream right now, he wasn’t dumb to let you even attempt to get a hold on him.

He tears his fingers from your mouth, slamming his lips to yours, tongue pushing past your teeth.

You couldn’t even find the strength to fight back right now — all you can feel is him. His body on you, hands groping, his mouth melding against yours.

Miguel finds your futile efforts quite cute. But your struggling isn’t helping you at all, and it’s only turning him on.

He’s grinning against your skin, pressing soft kisses against your jaw, down your neck. The sudden switch has you tense, wary, like a deer in headlights.

“Turn over.” The sentence wasn’t a request, but a demand.

One that he wasn’t patient enough to wait for.

Within a second, he’s got you flipped over, face pressed against the cold flood, arms pinned behind your back. Your bare ass sticks up in the air, and Miguel strikes the skin hard.

Choked pleas fall from your lips, but that doesn’t stop him. One, two, three more times you feel the roughness of his palms against your ass.

Your skin is singing in pain, every nerve set aflame at each swat.

“Ngh, God! I’m sorry! ” you squeal out, “I’m sorry!”

Miguel’s jaw is set once more, eyes steely as he stares straight at your glistening cunt.

“Oh, you’re sorry?” he breathes out, each word dripping in ridicule. A rough finger presses against the hot wetness building between your legs, sticky and sweet.

“No, you’re not. Not yet.”

A loud cry escapes you as Miguel plunges his cock, swollen and hard, deep in the sweltering heat of your cunt. Sharp pain throbs within you for a brief second, pulsing between your leg.

Fangs bared, Miguel groans at your grip. “Fucking hell.”

Tears drip down your face, darkening the concrete as each drop falls with every surge of his hips, the fat of your behind smashing against his abdomen.

“Oh, my G-God,” you stutter out sacrilege, nails biting in your palms. “Fuck, Miguel.”

As much as you want to hate this, hate him, you can’t control how your body feels. Your hips appear to have a mind of their own, pushing back in his grip. The tip of his cock kisses your cervix with each move, walls hugging his length with a tightness he’s never felt before.

There’s a sweltering mix of pain and pleasure, sweetness and salt, swirling inside of you as he’s hitting every goddam spot. Right now, you’re in limbo, on edge, just waiting for that one moment to push you into bliss.

And Miguel knows it. He can feel it. Smell it. Taste it, practically.

Yet, he’s seething.

How dare you enjoy yourself after making go to all this trouble? How do you have the fucking gall to find joy in this?

Heavy grunts escaping through his gritted teeth as his stray hand releases abandon your clasped wrists, only to grip at the back of your neck and push your face further into the ground.

“Dumb. Little. Slut,” he spits, emphasising on each word with a further thrust of his cock, drilling faster, harder, in the hot, wet mess of your cunt. “‘Course y’fuckin’ enjoying this. Never known a girl more hungry f’dick than you.”

You could only hiccup out small pleas as the taller man berates you with scorching insults, accompanied with a mocking laugh that melts into a moan.

Miguel wants to last longer - truly, he does. Nothing is more a sight for sore eyes than the pleading, whimpering mess you are.

But the sounds you’re making and the feeling of your walls tightening in on him, pulls him closer and closer to release quick than he intends.

He can’t help himself.

“Take it, hah, you…fuck…mi corazón.”

You whimper, eyes slinking shut as you breathe out a choked, “A-anything for you.”

With those last three brazen words, Miguel gives one final thrust, leaning over you to bite down on the curve of your neck as he comes — you’re both seeing stars.

It feels like you’re melting, from the inside out.

You can barely comprehend anything but these ebbing waves of sweet pleasure humming from between your twitching legs as you come, your plumped lips caught between your teeth so hard, you can taste blood.

Miguel’s rolling his hips in time with yours, panting, whimpering in your ear as he rides out this high for as long as he can, whispering sweet nothings and broken promises against your body.

You can feel this white mess sticking to your thighs, smeared against your abdomen, dripping with small plinks onto the cold concrete.

Miguel presses open-mouthed kisses down your back, running his tongue over the indents his fangs left in your skin.

“Don’t think I’m done with you yet.” A hand returns to the nape of your neck, clutching at your hair.

A familiar wave of dread washes over you.

“Just wait till we get back to the lab.”

[s-4pphics]

where we meet. (e.w.)

when ur a monsterfucker n its kinktober lol am i right guys

*silence*

…..

thank u 4 the pointers baby :3 ilysm @elliesbelle

wc;cw: 17.8k, baker!oc, demon!ellie, HEAVY ANGST [mentions underage drinking + alcoholism + drunk driving + car accidents + death], oc’s an eldest daughter… yeah, HORROR? [gore + animal death/mutilation? + vomit + idk scary shit like blood n stuff], SMUT!!!!![HEAVY DUBCON + sexual tension + ellie shape shifts LOL + her tongue is barbed and forked and long like a fruit rollup + blood drinking + fucking outside HAHA + splash of sadism + edging + tentacles WOOO THIS BITCH IS SHAKING THE TABLE!!! + pain kink + spit but venomous + lots of cum/squirting + anal/d!p + err restraint? + oral + crazy size kink + dirty talk + masturbation? + dumbification/mind break + dacryphilia + burning/marking

“Alright, my love! A dozen red velvet cupcakes, four slices of carrot cake, and ten brownies!” 

You handed two large brown bags filled with desserts over to your favorite regular, Roxanna, “I threw in two complementary cannolis, don’t tell Hattie, please!” You whispered. 

The older woman laughed, turning to depart with the sweet treats, “She ain’t getting a word outta me. Thank you, baby. See you soon.” 

“Have an amazing birthday! Try not to get too rowdy on that yacht, now!”

“Girl, I’m grown! If one of my guests show up without a bottle, they ain’t gettin’ on, point blank!” You both giggled. 

She blew you a kiss and scurried off, the small bell above the door ringing at her exit. You sighed and scurried to the back and into the kitchen, untying your apron and hanging it on the coat rack. 

“Now, Miss Hattie— “

“I know you ain’t tryna disrupt my craft right now. You know better!” The elderly woman had her gray hairs pinned back under her hair net, practically squatting near the counter as she perfected the icing job on the three-layered wedding cake, shrouded in gold and sparkly silver. Your heart grew fonder at the slight tremble in her hands as she piped sprouts of buttercream around the cake topper. 

Hattie, despite her stubbornness, was reason your… fresh start went so smoothly. Meeting her was a blessing in disguise; It was raining when you stumbled upon the old bakery she worked at years ago. You’d just moved as far as you could from your hometown, in desperate need of a job. She turned down your desperate pleads time and time again, that is until you showed up to the shop one last time, drenched in rain, with your homemade red velvet cake. 

She’d nearly cracked you with a broom herself when she saw you standing by the service stand, but you pleaded one last time, and left the foil wrapped dish on the register counter without another word. You’d piqued her interest. Just a smidge. 

You’d received a call from a random number — the owner of the shop— days later, offering you a position at the local bakery. 

As a dishwasher. 

Your victory didn’t last long, however. Turns out your boss was a thieving bastard, cutting all the employee's earnings by a third months after you were hired. You were shocked no one shoved a piping bag up his ass. 

Weeks later, you were out of a job. And so was Hattie. 

… Did she reluctantly ask you for tips on how you made your cake that moist as you two waited for the bus, hairnets still on? Absolutely. And you shared them on the ride back to her small home.

She swiftly became your support, your right-hand man, your newfound comfort only after a few months. You silently thank the universe for her everyday; You couldn’t imagine opening your spot without her with you, making sure to double — triple whatever shit pay her previous boss gave her. 

“C’mon, Roxie just picked up. We needa head out now,” Closing was always a hassle whenever Hattie was in the zone. The extra five minutes she often requested easily turned into an hour if not regulated; Bless her heart. 

She sighed and stretched, “Alright,” Reluctance in her tone. “You’re lucky my grandkids are coming to see me tomorrow!” She set her piping bag down and allowed you to stroll the wedding cake into the walk-in fridge. 

Hattie hardly ever asked for time off; You practically have to shove her out your bakery doors every Thanksgiving, Christmas Eve, New Years! The only request — demand she’s ever made was no work on Halloween. She gave you explicit instructions when you hired her years ago: don’t call my phone during the day of evil! 

Her request threw you for a whirl at first. You assumed she was joking because what seventy-year-old woman still cares about Halloween and its lore? When she hadn’t laughed with you, however, you apologized and offered her three days off for the end of October. Everyone deserves to be with their family, regardless of time of year.

You wished you had someone to call during the cozy Fall. 

You threw yourself into work the second you got the chance. Opening your bakery a year ago was something you’d been working towards since you made your first batch of cupcakes at ten years old. You and your mother baked until your arms burned from kneading years after that, and the hobby swiftly became your down time. Your shop was small and crowded, but your name was printed on the door. 

You never thought you’d be able to own anything after the last decade of being locked up, after the accident you’d caused. 

That horrid day and its repercussions continues to loom over you like a dark cloud no matter where you go, filling your life with trails of dread that refuse to be washed away. You lost your family, some friends, a potential partner, and it was all because of one mindless decision during your reckless and dark teenage years. 

To put it bluntly, you never recovered. Everyday is a struggle, but you’ve managed to distract yourself with work. Your newfound friends hate that they never see you, but you beg them to accept that you're busy whenever you receive an invitation to dinner. 

Sadly, your accomplishments are not companions, and your heart is forever vacant. Nothing — or no one — will change that. 

No matter how many times you’ve tried to reach out to your loved ones, your calls go unanswered. You came to terms with the fact that they’ll always see you as the force that destroyed their unity — the disappointment, ages ago, but your heart still longs for their affection. 

You wake up and hope for their forgiveness everyday. 

“You comin’?”

Miss Hattie’s voice pulled you from your thoughts as you silently walked her to the door, her work bag in hand and ready to go. 

“No, ma’am. Still gotta check the inventory.” 

She sucked her teeth, “I coulda still been decorating— “

“Enough of that! Get on home!” You waved her off with a smile. 

“Uh huh,” She rolled her eyes and left with a nod, “See you next week!” 

You waved goodbye, shutting the door fully and flipping the open sign to close. 

You stretched your arms above your head, your achy shoulders and neck popping with stiffness. All you wanted was a fucking massage. 

You made your way back to the kitchen, clipboard in hand, marking off products that desperately needed refilling. What kind of bakery runs out of sugar? Sugar!

The bus ride home was nauseating; You need your own car desperately. 

You politely greeted your neighbors as they left the elevator before heading to your floor. The late afternoon sun was blooming through the hallway windows of your building. You unlocked your door, the waft of cool air from the open window in your living room brushing your skin. 

You tossed your bag off your shoulders, and it thudded to the floor, the overworked bones in your arms cracking when you stretched them up at the ceiling. 

The small ball of fur rubbing against your leg rejuvenated you in seconds. 

Your cat meowed happily when you bent down to plant kisses on her head. She followed you into the kitchen as you heated the kettle on the stove, hopping onto the counter to watch you work. 

“You know better. Get down,” your eyes squinted. 

She only tilted her head at you before sitting on the granite completely. You were too tired to move her. 

Whistles erupted from the small hole in the pot minutes later. You filled your mug to the brim with the soothing herbal tea your friends gave you before heading into your bedroom. 

You closed your blinds and undressed completely, plopping onto your blankets, taking sips from your mug as exhaustion and warmth flooded your body. 

The last thing you remember was your cat walking all over your back. 

THUD, THUD THUD THUDTHUD—

Your body shook awake at the pounding coming from the entrance of your home. Anxiety surged in your gut when the loud knocks against wood came to a sudden halt, only to start up again, even more frantic and aggressive. 

THUDTHUDTHUDTHUD—

You kicked your blankets off and sat up, your sweaty form clinging to the sheets as you searched around your room. Everything was where it was supposed to be, but your door was wide open. You never leave your door open. Did you shut your door when you came home from… 

Where were you before this? 

You called for your cat once, twice, three times, but she never came. Your apartment was always quiet, but this silence… It was weighted, a heavy press on your chest. 

You don’t remember how you got into your living room, but your toes were digging into the soft fluff of your rugs, attempting to sketch into the floor. Even the slightest movement felt like a fight against sludge. Like trekking through the rain in drenched clothes. The knocks didn’t cease, and was synced with the pounding in your ears. 

The walls were breathing. Why couldn’t you breathe? You swore you were going to throw up. 

The painted plaster moved in waves, your door plunging in and out of its frame, back and forth like a pendulum, but you couldn’t see behind it; Your toenails scratched harder into the floor. You couldn’t stop staring at the door. Every nerve in your brain was urging you to run, find a place to hide, but your body wouldn’t allow it. You simply stood, trapped in a cloud of distress. 

The banging stopped and you inhaled, air finally filling your lungs. The feel of fabric beneath your toes was no longer there: something softer than hardwood. Something squishy, something sticky and wet with hair. Your nails tore into it, oddly comforted by the sensation. 

All was quiet again, the familiar steadiness of your home calming your racing heart. 

Until a weak, wheezing exhale came from beneath you; You nearly missed it. Your heart rate skyrocketed when you peered at your feet. 

Your cat’s neck and stomach were sliced open, her small organs pouring out of the large slit in her body. Maggots and spiders were crawling all over her, your feet completely drenched in her blood and your nails plunged deep into her decomposing skin. The insects devouring your nearly dead pet rushed up your legs at an alarming rate, tearing into your thighs like desperate rats fiending for a meal. 

You woke up screaming. 

“Girl…”

“I don’t know why that happened! I’ve never had a dream like that before!” All the lights were on in your home, your kitty purring in your lap as you stroked her comfortingly. “I know it’s late but can you come over? I’m honestly… freaked out right now.” 

Your good friend, Celeste, exhaled over the line, “… Yeah,” she resigned. “Gimmie ten minutes. I love you. Just… try to relax.” 

You breathed when she told you to, your head bobbing like she could see you, “Okay. I love you too.” 

You almost didn’t want to hang up, but you’d already bothered your friend enough tonight. It’s been a while since you two hung out together; You hope she’s up for a sleepover! 

Your kitty nuzzled your chin affectionately. You hoped she knew you would never hurt her. 

“I’ve never been so horrified in my life!” You spoke around the sugary spoon in your mouth. “Dreams have never… felt like that for me. I swear, it doesn’t matter how deep my sleep paralysis is! I felt like I was really,” you quickly peered around the room for your kitty, praying she couldn’t hear you. “Stepping on her body! My poor angel.” 

Celeste shoveled more ice cream into her mouth, “Girl, that’s fucking crazy,” she assured, nodding towards your sleeping baby on the table. “Just remember that nothing actually happened. You love her and she loves you.” 

She continued after a heavy sigh. “But you know me. Dreams, nightmares, they’re all from something, and if it felt as real as you say…” Her brow arched at you. What the fuck is she talking about? 

Her eyes rolled in exasperation, “Isn’t your coworker, like… mad superstitious? Queen, but still. The devil’s working, girl.” 

You took a deep breath like she instructed a billion times over since she’s arrived. A smirk grew on her face. 

“Plus… it’s that time of year. ,” she stuck her tongue out and playfully grabbed her tits, “We gettin’ slutty. Gotta show out for Scorpio season. I made my own costume.” 

Your nerves calmed at the reminder of your friends' packed weekend. Since your only true time off was during the spooky season, they always encouraged you to join them in their reckless behavior, especially during your time off. You resigned from partying a long time ago, but did indulge in the lively atmosphere from time to time during the holiday season. 

“You’re right,” you sighed and placed your hands over the resting ones on her chest. 

“Thank you! Take that damn chef hat off!” she scolded. “No more business talk until— “

“Next week, I know,” you mocked, “And I don’t wear chef hats, thanks.” 

“Don’t give a shit about any of that. I’m getting pipe tomorrow night,” Celeste fell back on the sofa, giddily kicking her feet in the air.

A hearty chuckle escaped you. Maybe you’d meet someone too. 

You were finally able to get some rest— thank god for Celeste — and start organizing your costumes for the… large sum of parties they planned to drag you to. 

You still haven’t completely recovered from your nightmare two nights ago. The vivid imagery that your subconscious conjured up still gives you the ick, but for the sake of your friends, you chose not to bring it up again. You silently thanked the universe when you managed to get a full nine hours the night before. 

Your friends managed to pull you into the Halloween spirit and take you to… Spirit. Despite the void stares from your friends at your costume choices, you settled on the Zelda outfit that’d been on sale at Party City for the past two weeks. Celeste couldn’t stop herself from… cutting your costume up and making it as revealing as possible. She opted to cut off the sleeves, sew the pants into a skirt that hugged your body way too tightly, and did your makeup how she wanted. You didn’t stand a chance against her. 

You despised how hot clubs get; You probably looked like you were melting. 

You stayed as far away from the bar as you could, watching your friends down shot after shot as the night progressed. Your surroundings were crowded and stuffy, the bass of the DJ booth rattling from your feet all the way up to your chest. Your moves were sloppy and disoriented, but Celeste was behind you, grabbing your hips and supporting your weight. 

Your thoughts were hazy and incoherent as your arms waved around to the beat. The music blasting in your ears turned into white noise; The environment completely entranced you, your eyes shutting at the weightlessness of your clammy body. 

The hands behind you were suddenly grabbing tighter, yanking you closer, as you continued to dance. 

You pushed back onto them and their arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you back, yanking you close, your clammy flesh practically melding with theirs. Their scent engulfed you, rich and deep yet distinct. Your arm wrapped around the back of their neck, pulling them down while their hands explored your hips. 

Their lips were on your neck, your head resting on their shoulder. Something hot was stirring in the pit of your stomach the more they swayed you, the arch in your back deepening; You haven’t felt wanted in so long. 

You tried to spin to face them, but they held you still, pressing their chest into your backside. Your breaths picked up when they bit the most sensitive spot on your neck, your toes curling in your heeled boots, your manicured nails nearly chipping in your stockings. 

Their mouth moved higher and higher, right under your ear, the hand coming up to wrap around your throat to hold you still. Your core squeezed as the grip on your neck tightened… and tightened… your airways were closing, and swiftly, the feeling was no longer pleasant. Your eyes snapped open when they didn’t let up, a shocked gasp escaping your dry mouth. The moment was no longer sensual, but straining and forceful. Almost angry. 

Your lust turned to panic instantly, your eyes bulging as your nails dug into their hands, their taut thighs, their wrist, but they didn’t budge. You thrashed and shook with terror. You gasped for air and tried to push them off but it was all for naught. 

Nobody came to help you. Suddenly all the faceless bodies around you were gone, heaps of black smoke pooling at your feet as you wailed for Celeste. The hands and lips were replaced with razor sharp claws and fangs as cold as ice against the side of your face, murmuring voices and screaming chants roaring in your ears. The former body grew monstrous, tripling in size and darkening. 

The sensation of decaying, bloody skin was at your feet once more, fiery red ants and black widows nipping at your skin as the smoke flooded up your body, swallowing your calves, thighs, waist. 

Weak shouts and begs for release went unheard by the force behind you. A faint whisper of your name made you sob harder; You’re going to die, you’re going to die, you’re going to die—

The whisper called your name again. And again. And again, much louder and urgent. Desperate for a response but all you could do was holler for your mother. 

One last shout of your name made you drop to the floor, all the sensations surrounding your body gone. Your crown clanked onto the vibrating hardwood as drunk clubgoers gawked at you in confusion and annoyance, Celeste and your friends staring in concern, reaching to help you up. 

But you couldn’t be touched. Any brush on your skin surged your heart to your throat. You needed to get the fuck out of here. 

Your friends kept yelling about what happened, how they could help, but you couldn’t speak. You swore you were going to vomit. 

You pushed yourself off the hardwood and through the crowd, away from your friends, away from everyone. Your smudged makeup stained your wrists, the shouts of your name going unheard as you shoved passed security and ran into the night. 

You didn’t sleep at all that night. 

You immediately left the club, hauled a taxi, and ran up into your apartment, double — triple checking to make sure all your doors were locked and windows were closed. You tore your costume off your body and threw it into your garbage before hopping into the shower. You desperately wanted to wash your hair, but you refused to close your eyes. The darkness when you blinked was haunting enough. 

To put it lightly, you were fucking horrified. 

Your body trembled under the steaming water, soft sobs escaping while you scrubbed your skin raw. Especially your shoulder. 

Your phone rang off the hook until the sun rose, your kitty refusing to leave your lap. She never failed to comfort you in your times of need, but you barely rubbed her all night. All you could do is cry and think. 

Your friends pounded on your door multiple times, but you refused to move from your bed. Their frantic knocking was very reminiscent of the pounding in your nightmare. You couldn’t shake how real everything felt: the comfort, the desire, the destress, the pure, unfiltered terror at the imagery of you being eaten alive by darkness. If you could even call it that: imagery. 

Imagery is not enough to describe what you experienced. You were attacked in public, and no one bothered to help you. Nobody… saw anything. 

You’re not fucking crazy. 

Your friends were sweet enough to stop by the same afternoon with candles and lavender-scented bath bombs after your public breakdown. Their efforts at lifting your spirits didn’t go unnoticed, but your thoughts kept racing, every time you shut your eyes, even for a few seconds. How the hell were you going to explain what you saw that night? 

Despite your friends’ skepticism, you were eventually able to convince them that you felt severely claustrophobic and the lack of air sent you spiraling. 

… It wasn’t a complete lie, at least. 

You were able to get some minuscule hours of sleep after they left before it was time to prepare for your shift. Dark circles were imprinted under your eyes, your skin was dry, and your uniform was not ironed, but you were up and moving. Small victories. 

Your hand was practically glued to your forehead in extreme fatigue, your eyes burning at the brightness of your computer screen as you checked the time. Your emails always boomed during this time of year as people prepared for the holiday season; A good night's sleep seemed even farther away now. 

You swiftly replied to each request with your availability before grabbing your bag and keys, kissing your kitty goodbye, and running down to the bus stop. 

You greeted every familiar face with a polite smile before entering the already packed vehicle, the beginnings of a rising sun beaming through the scratched windows. You plopped onto the only available seat — farthest away from your neighbors — with a heavy exhale, your head falling against its rest. 

This week is going to be so gruesome for orders; You prayed Ms. Hattie was prepared for it. 

Returning to work was just as draining as you’d assumed. 

Your business line has been ringing off the hook all morning, people asking for dozens of gingerbread cookies and wedding cakes layered to the ceiling. You could make a nest for yourself right on the clean tiles of the kitchen and nap. 

You’ll never know how Ms. Hattie did it: wakes up at five in the morning and moves through decorating like a walk in the park. You can barely lift your arms and it’s only hour three. 

You whipped egg whites and sugar like your life depended on it — it did — with your landline tucked between your shoulder and ear, reciting pick-up addresses and numbers in voicemails. You’re so fucking tired. 

Hattie wasn’t, though. Just quiet. A bit too quiet. 

She hasn’t said much since you’ve arrived. She got to the shop much earlier than expected, politely saying good morning when she caught you standing by the kitchen entrance. She hasn’t acknowledged you since. You tried to get some laughs out of her, but she only half-smiled before silently returning to her work.

You two continued to carefully wrap and deliver dessert-filled boxes like a well fueled machine up until the last minutes before closing. You stretched before grabbing the broom to sweep the entire shop, making your way into the kitchen where Hattie was staring off into nothing. 

“Hey, girl. I can close up, so,” you murmured, wiping the sweat off your brow. 

She seemed to be pulled out of her trance, “Oh, sorry hun,” Her head bobbed. “Are you sure you’re good on your own?” 

“Yes, ma’am,” You paused. “Umm, are you doin’ okay? You seemed… I dunno, quiet, I guess.” 

Hattie nodded, and you took it as an invitation to speak. “Somethin’ you wanna talk about? You didn’t even tell me how your weekend went. How’re the kiddos?” You asked gently, propping your broom against the wall. 

A heavy exhale left her. 

“I… Something was…” she stuttered. 

Another deep inhale. Another lengthy exhale. 

“Something felt different, no?” She whispered. 

Your brows pulled down in confusion. “What d’you mean?” 

“This… this weekend. Wasn’t it different?” 

“Umm…” you pondered. “Not really, no. Why, what’s goin’ on?” 

More silence before she huffed, “… Nothin’. You know how I get this time of year. Sorry, dear.” She turned and snatched her work bag off the counter before departing with a skittish nod, “See ya tomorrow.” 

“W-Wait—“ You tried to stop her, but the kitchen door was already slamming shut, the small ding alarming Hattie’s departure from your shop. 

You allowed your tense shoulders to drop, snagging the broom and heading towards the front of your shop for cleanup. 

That was odd. 

The front door of your apartment shut and you fell back against it in exhaustion. You desperately needed a massage. 

You stretched before pushing yourself off the door and wobbling over to your cat’s area, refilling her bowl and cleaning her litter box. You clicked your tongue to lure her over to eat. 

You called her name out when she didn’t come. You snagged her filled bowl and shook it, alerting your baby to come and eat. She still didn’t come. You huffed and made your way into your room; She probably took over your softest pillow again.

The bowl in your hand clattered to the floor and your screams nearly shattered your windows. Bile rose in your throat and you heaved at the scene in front of you. 

Your beloved pet was dead. Completely mauled, her blood and organs pouring out of the giant slit that went from her throat to her stomach. Sobs wracked through you at the savage attack. The one source of comfort that you looked forward to seeing every morning and night was gone, snatched away from you in the blink of an eye. You've tried to alleviate your anxiety by suggesting that your nightmares are merely that. Dreams. Creations by your subconscious to try and solve issues that occur in your everyday life. 

But nothing so heinous would ever cross your mind. You would never harm the precious angel who brought you healing in your times of need.  

This wasn’t a coincidence. Someone came into your home while you were away. Someone killed your baby. 

“We’re sorry, ma’am,” the county deputy sighed, “But there wasn’t any sign of breaking and entering. You stated that everything is where you left it, correct?” 

“Everything wasn’t where I left it,” Anger rushed through you at the officer’s dismissiveness. “My cat was fucking fine before I went to work. I’d never… put her in an environment where she could be harmed,” Tears flooded your eyes. 

“We understand that this was an attack done in your home. What happened here’s definitely not normal, but we won’t be able to solve everything in one night,” He consoled, “We’re getting a team here to investigate. I would suggest packing an overnight bag and staying with family or a friend until we get this situated.” 

Family. You almost broke down. 

When you didn’t respond, he interjected, “We can also find you a room to stay in for a few nights— “

“No, uh, thanks. I got it.” 

You dug in your pocket for your phone and dialed Celeste. He nodded and spun towards his partner who jabbered into a walkie. 

Your friend’s tone blared through the speakers, “Hiii, baby, what’s up! I haven’t heard from you in a minute.” 

Your bottom lip wobbled, “Sorry I didn’t call. Um… can I ask a favor?” 

“Of course you can. What’s the matter? Are you good?” 

The floodgates that’d been building in your eyes overflowed, pouring down your cheeks and onto your work shirt. You wept. 

“Can you come pick me up?” 

“I just feel like… I feel like I’m going fucking crazy,” you whispered and picked at your fingers, “I know it doesn’t make any sense, but— “

“Nah, it makes perfect sense. You’re fucking psychic. That’s literally the only explanation,” your friend shook her head at you. “You dreamt about something and it happened a couple days after.” 

“None of that shit is real, Celeste.” She sighed in disappointment. 

“It’s not real to you,” she pointed from the other side of the couch. “My grandmomma was a witch—“You huffed and adjusted the blanket draped over your shoulders. 

“But, hey,” she raised her hands in defense. “I can’t make you believe anything. But coming from the most superstitious bitch in town, somebody is trying to tell you something. You’re not freaked out?” 

“Of course I’m freaked out! But I'm not wasting my time thinking about some… fuckin’ ghost— “

“What happened when we were at the club?” 

Your blood went ice cold. You couldn’t stop the pure terror that spread across your face at the mention of that night. You’ve attempted to block… whatever happened out of your memory for the last couple days for your sake, but Celeste read you like a book, and you hated her for it. 

“Exactly. Are you ready to talk about it now?” 

“I… I told you what happened— “

“You lied about what happened. And don’t try to argue,” She leaned closer, eyes comforting. “We tried calling out to you for so long. We thought somebody fucking… laced you, or something, you were so zoned out. We were this close to calling the fucking police.” 

“… What do you mean? I lost y'all in the crowd before I started dancing with somebody— “

Celeste shook her head, “No.” 

Your throat went dry, the blood rushing to your head almost making you faint. 

“We tried to tell you, baby. But we didn’t wanna push you to talk to us about it,” she said gently. “We were with you the entire time.” 

The tightness in your chest wouldn’t subside, shuddering breaths leaving your nose with every denial from Celeste.  

“No one else came up to us,” she whispered, “and no one danced with you.” 

Your head kept shaking in attempts to disprove her claims, in attempts to combat the fear that was attempting to slice you from the inside out, but deep down, you knew she was onto something. 

Celeste’s hold sadly didn’t bring comfort, but she held you close anyway, ensuring that you’re not by yourself, but all you could think about was your mother. The smile she used to give you whenever you succeeded never failed to recharge the dying battery in your back. It’s depressing how little impact her grin has on you in adulthood. 

The dark cloud of your past cascaded over the two of you; If she were here, your best friend would’ve forced you into the passenger side of her father’s pick-up, already halfway across town by now, set to isolate. To escape. 

“Whoever did this is incredibly strategic,” The tall detective stated with a journal in his hand, “They didn’t leave traces of anything: hair, fingerprints, nothing. It’s almost like they never broke in.” 

You haven’t been able to get any sleep or go to work for the last week, completely isolated inside your friend’s home. When you received a phone call from the detective assigned to your case, you caught the first bus you could and flew back to your apartment complex. You don’t remember the ride. 

Your hope plummeted at his declaration, even with his reassurance, “We’re doing everything we can to find this person. Your safety is our number one priority.”

He gave your shoulder an encouraging squeeze, and it brought you comfort. While you weren’t satisfied with their reports, you could see that he was trying. Was this your first time meeting him? 

He seemed familiar, but you couldn’t place it. 

He stared into your eyes with a gentle grin and continued, “If we should even call them that. They’re a cold-blooded, heartless fiend that needs to be taken out.” 

Your brows furrowed at his sudden determination, but your head bobbed in agreement. Your mind was racing but you couldn’t say anything. Someone killed your baby. Did his grip on you tighten? You couldn’t move. 

“The bastards that get away with such vicious crimes need to be put away forever,” his tone was harsh and sharp, and it made your fingers twitch. Your stomach plummeted when his smile stretched higher, his teeth shin

His other hand landed on your other shoulder. You tried to move back, but you couldn’t, “S-Sir— “

“They need to be hung from the ceiling by their throats and slaughtered like fucking pigs! Like the worthless animals they are! —“

His spit landed on your face at his screams. He hollered about how much he hated killers, how they were scum and deserved to be tortured. How you… 

“You thought we forgot about what you did?” He whimpered; prior menacing smile vanished.

The bearded man in front of you was sobbing, his gaze pinning you against the wall. He didn’t blink and his eyes were bloodshot, his mouth turned downward, the corners of his lips nearly touching his chin. Your eyes frantically traveled over his form, his uniform replaced with pajamas and slippers. 

“YOU’RE A KILLER! YOU’RE A KILLER, YOU’RE A KILLER, YOU’RE A KILLER! —“

Cursed murmurs amplified his pained shouts. Your home was melting away, the walls seeping into the floor before you dropped, the terror weakening your limbs. Your nails dug into the grass and dirt below you, panic electrifying your system. 

The man was gone, but you were outside in the middle of the night, decomposing trees surrounding you. You tried to stand but you couldn’t. You were forced to take in the scene that you wished to never see again. The one scene that your subconscious couldn’t eliminate no matter how hard you tried to forget. 

Your parents' car— wrecked car. The vehicle was completely destroyed, the bumper and windscreen ran into a tree. You screamed and shouted but no noise left, the sinister chants resounding in your ears. The wreckage seemed to move, closer, closer, your eyes locking onto the two bodies inside completely mangled in the accident. 

The two bodies were younger you, thrown over the dashboard and your arm twisted to an alarming degree, blood running down your head and mouth, shards of glass piercing through the skin of your bare legs. 

You couldn’t stop yourself from peering at the body beside you. You hollered for help, cried and begged to wake up, all while staring at your best friend — your soulmate, completely maimed from the waist up. It was just as brutal as you remember: her blood splattered all over the airbag, her limbs shattered and broken, large pieces of glass pierced into her skull. You were sick, you were sick. 

Suddenly, the mantras that attempted to swallow you whole stopped. 

Then there was laughter. Your soulmate’s laughter, but it wasn’t how you remembered. It was darker, hollow, empty. Enraged. 

Everything around you went dark. 

Sobs tear through your throat the second your eyes open, the comforting scent of Celeste’s lavender candles intruding your senses. Your body was drenched in sweat, and you could hear your friend calling out to you, her cold hands on your face, but you couldn’t think. You just screamed. Her attempts of trying to sit you up failed, your fingers hanging onto her sheets for dear life. You were paralyzed with fear. 

Somehow, your biggest regret came to pay you a visit. 

Your instincts finally kick in, pushing Celeste off you and bolting towards her bedroom door. She was calling for you; she even reached out to touch you, but you pushed her harder. 

She screamed for you to stop, and you lost it. 

“Get the fuck away from me! STOP — stop fucking touching me!” you rush out into her living room and towards her front door. 

Shocked plastered across your friend’s face. 

Celeste whispered your name; Why did she sound like her?

“I gotta get the fuck outta here, I can’t,” heave, “I can’t fucking do this, I can’t, I can’t — “

Distraught mumbles fled your tongue on your way out, not bothering to look back at your friend. You heard her sniffling before the door slammed shut, guilt swarming your chest, but it wasn’t enough to overcast the terror ripping you open from the inside out. 

After vomiting outside of Celeste’s apartment building, — multiple times — you took your leave. As fast as you could. You couldn't say a word to her; She desperately tried to get information out of you, but your throat felt like it would crack open at the slightest whisper. The fear you’d been trying to invalidate crashed into you all at once. 

You fled without your belongings, only slowing when night goers surrounded you in the city. 

Celeste has been worried sick about you this entire time, but you didn’t care. You couldn’t care. 

Your steps were jerky and quick, and you kept scratching at your shoulder. You felt her everywhere. All over you, but it wasn’t comforting. Not like it used to be. 

You walked and walked, your mind racing with moments from your past: the last moments with your best friend. Your kryptonite. The scar in your shoulder was covered in fresh, red lines from your nails. 

JUNIOR YEAR: 2012

You frantically shoved your books into your locker, anticipating the alarm that sounded for lunch. You can’t wait to get the hell out of here. 

The second it goes off, you're booking it for the door. You hoped Ellie kept her word and brought your birthday present. 

You busied yourself in your small cubby whenever security or teachers walked by, politely greeting them with the most innocent smile you could muster. They didn’t bat an eye, wishing you a happy birthday before turning the corner at the end of the hall. 

You gave them all fake greetings until the loud tone blared through the hallway speakers, students instantly rushing out of their classrooms to head to the cafeteria. You grabbed your now empty backpack and merged with the crowd, trekking for the exit. You managed to scurry through the double doors of the school and bolted towards your parents’ old car, ducking behind the driver's side as you waited for your best friend. 

You texted her a few times but she didn’t respond for minutes. You almost gave up and returned inside the building before two hands pinched your sides from behind. A squeal left your mouth when you whipped around. Ellie snorted at you, her arms wrapping around your neck in a tight hug. You reluctantly hugged her back. 

HAAAPPY BIIIRTHDAAAY TOOO YOUUU—

You shushed her shouts with a smile, Shut up! Someone might hear you.

She kissed your cheek before releasing you, No ones fucking here, relax. Open the door, her head jerked towards the vehicle.

You stealthily unlocked it and the two of you jumped in. You shoved the key into the ignition as Ellie cranked the speakers all the way up, your car rattling with bass as you two exited the parking lot and zoomed down the main street. 

Ellie belted Cherry Waves out the window, bright laughs leaving your throats as you drove to… anywhere. Times like this always bring you joy; You love being around her. 

Ditching class might’ve not been the best birthday celebration, but you were having a ball. 

You drove until you reached the end of town. There was a small campground that you and Ellie found on your first couple drives together, and it swiftly became your little get away spot. You’d spend hours talking, drawing, screaming at the top of your lungs until the sun disappeared and your parents demanded you come home. 

You two raced to your designated spot by the lake, Ellie’s filled backpack slamming onto the sand, glass clattering from the inside. You mischievously eyed it, I think someone owes me a present! 

I don’t owe you shit. I’m a good friend, say thank you, She rolled her eyes. You grabbed her hands and clumsily twirled her. 

Thank you, Ellieee! you nearly ripped her bag apart as you inspected the contents. 

Don’t go too crazy. Remember what happened last time? her smile was light, but you could tell she was scolding you. You snickered. 

Um, yeah. We had a ball. Help me open this, you downplayed, passing her the unopened bottle. 

You know exactly what she’s referring to; You might’ve drank a bit too much at your friend’s birthday dinner. And Christmas party… and when you all went to the fair, but it was all in good fun! You’re young and living life; Ellie’s always a bit dramatic when she comments on your drinking. 

Ellie snatched the bottle and opened it, taking a large swig from it before handing it back. You followed in her lead, taking three large gulps of the liquid, the burn flowing down your throat and into your stomach. Ellie pulled her speaker out of her bag and queued your joint playlist. 

The two of you drank and sang and danced until sunset, your vision blurry and legs wobbly. Ellie was sweet enough to help you back to the car, snagging the keys from your pocket before helping you into the passenger side. You tried to talk to her, but she couldn’t understand. She always looked so cute when you mumbled nonsense, wispy brows pulled down with a light smile. You felt so happy whenever she was around. 

She drove you back home and you threw up all over your front yard. Somehow, she snuck past your parent's room without hassle, ushering you into bed. You couldn’t stop laughing; Her bright smile only made you cackle louder before her hand pressed against your mouth. 

—

Ellie’s soft palms moved up and down your arm bare, occasionally squeezing your bicep. You couldn’t stop smiling, goosebumps following the drag of her fingertips.

You’re such a dork, she whispered between snickers. 

You love me, you said much louder, but she hummed. The look in her eye was suddenly far away. You nervously nibbled at your bottom lip, your eyes dropping to her mouth. Did her lips always look this soft?

You admired every aspect of her face in silence, your index finger continuing to trace over the bridge of her nose, the apple of her cheeks, down to her chin. Ellie’s a sight. 

Your hazy mind barely noticed the tint on her cheeks, your bedroom dimly lit by the moonlight cascading in from your window. Her eyes were glued to your mouth. 

She inched closer, her moves subtle. You would’ve missed it if she wasn’t right there. 

You don’t know what came over you, but your mouth pressed against hers. Her lips were stiff against yours, and it made you pull away.

She didn’t seem… happy, not how you felt. Her expression was gloomy, her eyes flashing with… everything and nothing at the same time. You locked up instantly. 

You love me, Ellie… right? 

Your tongue felt swollen in your mouth when you slurred. 

Ellie didn’t answer, and you held yourself up on your elbow, your brain alarming your legs to get up and leave. To abandon. 

Ellie… d-do you love me? 

O-Of course I do—

The tremors in her voice sliced through you like a hot blade. Her confirmation was only meant to appease, your drunk brain told you. Ellie doesn’t love you, not like that. Your own parents’ love is conditional; Why wouldn’t hers be?

—

You were never a rebellious kid. 

Your parents always praised you for being a remarkable role model for your younger siblings: incredible listener, studious, eager to help others. They never failed to highlight, amplify, pressure your good behavior. But their doting smiles disappeared when you failed to meet their expectations. 

The transition from middle to high school was rough for you. Your grades suffered and you were surrounded by other kids you didn’t recognize, and your “star-student” streak vanished in an instant. You’ve never seen your family so disappointed in you. 

You broke your back trying to save your academic status for the next few years. You hardly slept, ate, spent time with your newfound friends, and it was all for your parents. They didn’t acknowledge you until that offer to join the early-college program came in the mail during your sophomore year. When you accepted that you needed to have something to show to get their affection, you spiraled downward. 

You swiftly replaced the emptiness in your heart with a bunch of seniors. They agreed to let you tag along if you could hang, so you did whatever was necessary to gain their companionship: started sneaking out, staying out late, going to parties that you had no business being at. 

Started drinking. 

Just one sip, loosen up! Little did you know that’s all it took to get you hooked. 

The drink was rancid and a gross, murky color. You weren’t enjoying it, so why couldn’t you put the cup down for the rest of the night? You threw back cup after cup until you were unconscious on the front porch of the house. None of your friends bothered to take you inside where it was safe. 

You barely recall being hauled back inside and upstairs, plush pillows under your head as you drifted off. When you woke, you swiftly decided that the pounding in your head and the nausea in your gut was worth it. Last night was the freest you’d ever felt. You almost missed the small sticky note stuck on your arm. Someone gave you their phone number, demanding that you tell them if you made it out alive (i hope so.)

You gained a best friend from that sloppily scratched note. 

Meeting Ellie was a blessing. She was funny, smart and kind. She was so nice to you. None of your old friends treated you like she did. Ellie’s friends were much warmer and welcoming when she introduced you to them for the first time. Every time they had plans, you were invited, no conditions needed. 

Every vacant space in your heart was filled with something brighter. It’s unfortunate that your brain has already mastered its attachment to something more dangerous. 

Ellie… for the billionth fucking time, I don’t have a problem. Can you just let it go? you scoffed from your bed. 

I’ll let it go when you cut it out. You can’t do shit without it anymore, She spat, pointing at the McDonald’s cup filled with Tequila. You grinned nastily and sipped your straw. You were so sick of having this conversation with your friends. With her. 

Yes, I can. I’m fine. See? You sarcastically rubbed all over your body. Another huge gulp. I dunno why y'all are acting like this. I’m not the only one that drinks. 

You’re not fuckin’ fine, first of all! It was fun at first, but you don’t know how to control yourself! You’re scaring everybody off, Her arms flailed as her voice rose. You’re so happy your parents are working. 

You weren’t “scaring everybody off”; You did have some outbursts some time ago, but your friends were still around. They always called you for a fun time, and you were always there to show out. 

Oh my fucking god, you’re so extra, you got up with your cup, grabbing Ellie’s hand and leading her into the bathroom down the hall. You removed the lid and dumped its contents out; You tried to hide the surge of anxiety as you watched it go down the drain. 

See? I can stop whenever I want. 

Then stop, she whispered, sadness in her eyes, No more… okay? 

The emotions flowed through her eyes like water, and it made you uncomfortable. You already wanted a refill, but you nodded to appease her. 

O-Okay, Ellie, I’m sorry, you whispered, and she hugged you so tight. Kissed your clothed shoulder, and it gave you solace, even if it was just temporary. 

But when she left, you were alone, comforted by the temptation of your own thoughts. You broke into your parents’ locked liquor cabinet that same night. 

—

When you showed up to exam day drunk, Ellie began to pull away. 

She didn’t bother to beg and yell when you were entranced by your vice. You simply saw her less, and your heart cracked whenever your calls went unanswered. 

Abandonment was the worst feeling, even more so when it’s a result of something you’ve done. Your anxiety spiked significantly when you strolled around campus and your friends ignored you, and it only made you drink more when you got home. The acidic pacifier you discovered was turning you into someone unrecognizable. You were failing, and you were alone. You’d wished your siblings were older so you could talk to them. 

Everything came crashing when your parents received an alarmed call from your principal. 

You’d been vomiting in the nurse's office for half an hour, and they ended up calling the ambulance. Your stomach was getting pumped hours later. 

When you regained consciousness, the only thing you could hear were your mother’s hysteric sobs in the hall. 

—

Summer came along, and you were out of rehab. Withdrawal fucking sucked; It took you almost three weeks to fall asleep in the center. 

You didn’t expect to see Ellie and your friends sitting on your porch when your parents pulled into the driveway, flowers and your favorite candy in hand. Your best friend cried into your shoulder for an hour straight; You refused to let her go as you sobbed into hers. You’d missed hugging her. 

When everyone was seated on your parents' couch, you offered to share the secret to get melty, gooey chocolate chip cookies every time. They couldn’t stop grinning at you; You were finally back to normal. 

Ellie spent the night at your house and hugged you to her chest until you drifted off. 

You accepted that you were a terrible person when all you could think about was a drink. Just one. 

All the promises you made were broken a few months later, crushed into dust by your own hand.  

—

Everyone you loved hated you. Liquor always forced you to see the truth in people, melted away the fantasy that you created out of self-preservation. It fueled the rage that you desperately tried to keep hidden from your family; You’re so fucking mad, and you can’t remember why. 

Your parents hated you; your siblings hated you, your best friend, the one person you have to confide in, the only thing you had left to love, hated you. Everyone hated you, and it was all your fault. Selfishness was the only way one could be a successor. 

The second Ellie climbed into your parents’ car with that soft look in her eye, fury swallowed you whole. You barely said a word to her, her favorite song cranked to maximum volume. 

Ellie? Your voice was quiet, but you were seething. You don’t remember why. 

Hm? 

D-Do you still care about me? your hands were clenched around the wheel so tightly, you thought it would snap in two. She was suddenly tense in the passenger seat, but she whispered without hesitation. Of course, I do… always. 

But you didn’t believe her. 

Ellie should’ve never agreed to go on a drive with you. 

The way Ellie whipped her head towards you was vicious, her hand slamming onto the volume button of your car to silence the noise. You hated how she knew instantly. 

… Are you fucking drunk right now? 

There it was. All the proof you needed. Confirmation that you were nothing but a disappointment. You hadn’t moved from the stop sign. Self-loathing thrashed from the inside; your teeth are bound to crack like glass with the tightness of your jaw. 

She’d whispered your name with so much disdain. A molten tear eased down your face like magma. This was the same residential area you parallel parked in for your driver’s test. 

Your eyes were glued onto the dimly lit street as Ellie cried and begged for you to stop the car. She admitted to loving you and apologized for everything she said that could’ve hurt your feelings. All you had to do was stop the car and everything would be fine, she said. You pressed the gas so hard; it nearly touched the floor of the vehicle. 

I love you… Please don’t do this… I love you so much… 

Ellie’s last scream was haunting before everything went silent. 

—

The reality around you never rebuilt itself after that night. 

You were able to convince yourself that the accident didn’t happen for a few weeks. Until your best friend’s burial. According to your parents last voicemail, Ellie’s father wanted to strangle you with his bare hands. You took his life away with one decision. No one contacted you after that. Not your parents, not your siblings, not your friends. 

You were charged and placed in juvenile detention until you were of legal age, and sent off to prison for another six years after that. 

Your habit fed you lies about the people you loved most, and it cost the life of your only constant. The one person who tried to get you to change. The purest form of love you had. 

You killed your soulmate, and you never recovered. 

PRESENT

You walked until you reached Hattie’s front porch. Your calves were on fire. 

Your tightly clenched fist pounded on the wood with all the strength you had left. You could see the shadows of someone walking around inside, but she didn’t open the door. She probably wanted nothing to do with you after not showing up to work for weeks, but you were desperate. 

“M-Ms. Hattie, please,” you hollered, “I really need t’talk to you! Please, please— “

The door barely creaked open. You expected her to scream and berate you for disrupting her so late in the night, but she was silent. Didn’t utter a word. She only peered through the small crack in the doorway, her eyes bloodshot. Her voice sounded graveled, like she hadn’t slept in days. 

“What the hell are you doin’ here.” 

“Ms. Hattie, I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t know where to go,” You harshly wiped your eyes, “May I please— “

“No, you may not,” her glare sliced through you, sharper than any knife. You bawled. 

“Please, I’m beggin’ you, ma’am— “

“What…” her voice quivered, her gaze breaking away from yours for a split second. 

“What did you do… to that girl?” She whispered like it pained her, and it felt like your chest would concave. 

“… W-What?”

The look on her face was enough for you. 

She knows. She knew. 

“It was you,” tears filled the woman’s eyes, “I had a dream that you… How could you do that… That poor baby…” 

Your head shook in denial. It was an accident, you wanted to scream, I don’t know what came over me! Your eyes squeezed shut and you fell to your knees, thunderous pleads leaving your throat as you begged her to listen. You hunched over and miserably tried to grab at her feet. 

I loved her, I loved her, I loved her! You couldn’t speak. 

“Whatever happens t’you…”

“No, nonono!—“

“I hope God… the universe… whoever the hell,” She spat, “Has mercy on you.” 

You couldn’t stop screaming. Your voice was muffled by the concrete floor. 

“Get the fuck off my porch.” And the door slammed in your face. You heard the locks click, and just like that, your last inkling of hope shunned you. 

You hadn’t realized you’d been screaming for Ellie until you sat up, burning eyes glued to the dark, cloudy sky. 

The sun rose from behind as you climbed your apartment steps. 

The bundle of police cars and black trucks outside the building were an indication of your case being ongoing, but it brought you no comfort. A constant ache was present in your chest every time you breathed. Murmurs erupted from behind as you dragged your body inside, ignoring the deputies who were urging you off the premises. 

Officers and residents stared at you in confusion, shock, bewilderment the second you hopped off the elevator. Exhaustion was pouring out of you, your under eyes almost black and pajamas wrinkly. You can’t recall the last time you showered. 

The elevator dung, and you made your way down the hall, police tape surrounding your front door. You dodged it and crept in, the sight of the investigators almost sending you into a panic. 

Terror built in your spine as they gawked at you; Ellie’s fucking with you. You’re probably asleep right now. 

“Ma’am?” 

You shakily turned towards the investigator assigned to your case. “Are you alright?” 

No. You nodded, “I came to get some things.” 

Some silence passed before you spoke. 

“I need a place to stay,” your cuticles were scabbing. “As far away from here as possible… if that’s even allowed.” Your living room felt like it was tipping. 

Their brows furrowed, scanning over your ragged appearance, “Um… The farthest we can place you is about a half hour away. We still need to monitor you… Especially now.” You bit the dig with a tilted head. 

You nearly leaped into the air at the sudden, distant ring in your ears. 

“Will y’all still cover m’stay?” The tremor in your hands built with the shrilling pierces in your drums. 

“Yes… Are you sure everyt— “

“I’m fine! I’m fi— I’m fine!” The shrieks overwhelmed you, both hands coming up to cover your ears, your head pounding. Foreign hands were attempting to steady your hunched form, but to no avail. Your body gave out completely, pained wails leaving your dry lips. 

I’m fine, I’m fine I’m fine I’m fine—

You tried. You tried your hardest, but you couldn’t convince anyone — yourself that you were okay. Something’s here. When did the air in your home get so cold?

The softest call of your name frosted the blood in your veins. 

You’re hallucinating; You have to be. Don’t look up. Don’t open your eyes. 

The voice called again, elation enriching her tone. Your head shook in disbelief. 

It can’t be. 

“L-Look at me. I’m here! I'm okay!” 

No, no no no, you told yourself. Sobs wracked through your hunched form. 

“Look at me! I love you!” 

Shoe-covered feet inched towards you, slowly. Almost… cautious. 

“Wake up! Wake up, wake up!” Your whispers were harsh. Urgent. Desperate. 

A comforting hand rubbed your shoulder. You flinched and wailed, frantically pinching the skin of your wrists.  

“NO! No, no, fucking get up— “

“Shhh,” Her hand squeezed you, “It’s me.” 

You’re going to fucking puke. Your eyes stayed shut while she cradled you, your head resting on her shoulder. She felt taller, stronger, but she smelled the same. You couldn’t move, but she hugged you so tight. 

Ellie, Ellie, I love you, I’m sorry— 

A kiss on your shoulder. Right over your scar. 

“I love you more.” 

You calmed in her presence as she rocked you on the floor. Your guilt almost made you push her away, but you’re selfish; You need this, for her to hug you. 

It felt like she held you for years, right on your apartment floor. She didn’t let you go. 

But when your eyes opened, eggshell white hospital walls surrounded you. Kept you trapped in the small hell that Ellie’s created. 

You haven’t slept or eaten. You’ve barely showered. 

Ellie was with you. Ellie’s with you. You felt her there; She held you! You’re not fucking crazy. 

Three days have passed since you were carried out of your apartment by EMTs, according to the investigators that are still terrorizing your fucking home. They assumed you were having a seizure by how still you were. You were unresponsive for minutes, they’d said. Celeste was right. You didn’t have the courage to face her and apologize. 

You haven’t left your motel room since you’ve arrived. You hate it in here — it looks like it’s eroding from the outside, the windows are scratched and tinted a murky yellow, the sheets feel like sandpaper, but it’s better than home. Better than being in public amidst your impending psychological breakdown. 

Ellie’s here. She’s watching you and laughing at the wreck you’ve become. 

You’re slipping; You can feel it. The way she hugged you… You could’ve melted into her for eternity when she said she loved you, never to be seen or heard from again, completely under her control. Not that anyone would care about your disappearance. A gutted huff left you. 

Your past finally caught up to you. Tears flooded your eyes for the hundredth time tonight. 

The faint shuffling coming from your bathroom didn’t even shock you. She’s here again. 

Your eyes overflowed, and they shut in resignation; You’re going to die. 

“E-Ellie?” 

Silence. 

Your eyes squeezed tighter. You have nothing left to fight for. 

“Just do it! Just fucking do it!” 

That’s all you’ve ever been: a quitter. More shuffling, then silence. 

“FUCKING KILL ME! KI— KILL ME, ELLIE!” 

You heaved and rose from the edge of your bed. You marched down the seemingly endless hallway, heart cracking in your chest. 

“KILL ME! KILL ME, KILLME! —“

Weighted knocks pounded against your room door, shocking you into silence. She’s here, she’s here; She’s fucking with you. 

A dark chuckle left you. 

“You’re fucking sick,” You spat with a sniffle, “I hate your fucking guts, just like you hated me! You fucking hate me, right?” 

You’re awake. And you’re angry. 

You tramped towards the entrance and knocked back just as hard. 

“FUCK YOU, BITCH! FUCKING — FUCK YOU, ELLIE, YOU FUCKI— “

Heat traveled across your face the second you ripped the door open. 

A woman… a motel employee… with sheets in her hand, visibly stunned. 

You’re going fucking crazy. 

“Uhh… just came to give you new, uh, sheets,” Her voice was high-pitched, clearly uncomfortable. Your eyes flickered with embarrassment, cheeks blazing. 

“S-Sorry…” You allowed the shorter woman entry, and she scurried over to the small nightstand in the corner of your room. 

You picked at your fingers, “Um… sorry if I scared you. It’s been a weird… fuckin’ weird couple of weeks.” 

She didn’t acknowledge you at all. Just silently laid the sheets and pillowcases on the side of your bed. 

“Am I,” You huffed, anxiously rubbing your eyes. “Are you gonna report me or somethin’?” 

Silence. 

Your brows furrowed at the sudden stillness of the woman, her back turned towards you. 

“Hey, you okay?” A cautious step forward. “Look, I’m… I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I’m fine— “

“Fuck you.” 

You flinched at her venomous tone; voice filled with spite. The fuck?

“… What?” 

“After all this time…” she whispered, the ponytail in the woman’s head shaking in disbelief. 

“You’re still the same… selfish, psychotic fucking bitch I remember you to be.” 

Your knees buckled at the sudden low timbre of her voice. Goosebumps ran up and down your arms at its familiarity. She sounded just like… She’s… It can’t be. It can’t be, it can’t be—

The one window you cracked for air earlier slammed shut, the clicks from your door signaling your confinement. You’re trapped.

Your nails sunk into your palms; She’s here. She’s real and she’s fucking here and going to kill you. 

Her laugh filled the room, low and vengeful, and the one lit lamp on the nightstand flickered off. 

Your breaths were shallow and desperate, sheer panic rushing through your body. You took blind, scurried steps towards the door, feeling around for the knob to take your leave, but it wouldn’t budge. You pounded on the wood from the inside, screaming for anyone to come save you. 

Something cold and slimy slinked around your ankles and roughly yanked you to the floor, your hands scrambling to grab onto anything on the hardwood as they pulled you towards her. You caught glimpses of her glowing, red eyes with every panicked look over your shoulder. 

You were pulled up, up, up by your feet until you were dangling upside down, her glowing orbs piercing through yours. You barely made out her manic smile, fangs bright and as sharp as knives. Something sharp pressed against your windpipe, ready to tear your throat out. 

The room she trapped you in disappeared completely, an empty, dark void surrounding her, you. There’s nothing anywhere. 

You hollered as your stomach flipped; She’s going to kill you right here—

“Ellie, please, please don’t! —“

A sharp slice right through your shoulder. You released a pained scream before your vision grew cloudy, body growing limp as you swayed in the air. Your screams quieted, your drowsy mind filling with images of Ellie smiling affectionately at you. 

Ellie… Ellie, please… 

Trees danced with the wind before everything went dark. 

Water erupted from your mouth, your eyes ripping open, fingers tearing into the dirt beneath you. 

You pushed yourself into a sitting position, more water dripping from your hair and clothes, down your bare legs. Pain shot through your shoulder with every move. You reached to touch it and… ouch. Blood coated your fingertips. 

You gazed around. You knew exactly where you were, but it was off. 

You and Ellie’s hideout. The campground is exactly how you remember, but it was darker, murkier, less inviting and cozy. Familiar, yet foreign. 

“Miss me?” 

You jolted, scurrying away from whatever was behind you. 

“Aww, don’t be scared,” Ellie mocked, fake pout pulling at her lips. “C’mooon, it’s just me! Welcome to my humble abode!” 

What the fuck, what the fuck—

The same appendage from earlier wrapped around your leg, yanking you back, and your heart sank. Your eyes were deceiving you; They had to be. 

Ellie, much taller and stronger than you remember, stood over you, pupils pitch black, a devious smile spread across her face, sharp fangs glimmering in the dark. The two horns that swirled atop her head were dark, the protruding veins red and throbbing like they were alive. You saw the sharp edge of her tail glowing behind her head, speckles of red liquid crusting over on the tip. 

Is… Did she cut you with that? 

Your heart squeezed painfully with familiarity; The small spots that dusted her face and the scars that covered her legs from biking accidents were still there. 

“E-Ellie?” 

She posed, arms extended, “In the flesh. Kinda. There’s no… actual flesh for the dead… Well, we technically could have skin, but it wouldn’t be ours.” 

“I’ve been lookin’ for you. You look good,” she muttered, eyes dark as they traveled over you. You suddenly felt exposed. 

Silence passed between the two of you. How was her tone so casual? 

What the fuck is going on… 

She huffed at your silence, “Didn’t think our ten-year anniversary would be this fucking awkward. Can’t even say hi?” 

Her words were hardly registering. 

“Huh.” Her eyes flashed back, and the organ around your leg untangled, retracting into the grass beneath you.

“You’ve… you’ve been looking for me?” 

“Mhmm,” she hummed, carelessly playing with her razor-sharp nails. “You got outta jail, got a place… bought the bakery you always talked about. Congratulations, jailbird! You beat the system… and were able to outrun the devil for some time!” 

She showcased the ashy, decaying scenery like it was a prize. “Here’s your first glimpse into the other side. Is it to your liking? Should I fluff your pending gravestone? Put some roses over it since everyone you love won’t?” 

Other side? “… Am I dead?” 

“Nope! Almost. You have a purpose before I take you out. Finally, am I right?” Sarcasm sharpened her tongue. 

“… You're insane,” your voice was hoarse, shattered. You swore your esophagus was bloody. 

“Me?!” She snickered sickly, eyes darkening, “Remind me what happened between us again? Who hurt who? Who killed who?!” 

“… I— “

You paused. What the fuck do you say to her? I still love you somehow. Please don’t hate me forever. I’m a worthless fuck up—

“None of the above,” she interrupted… your thoughts? “To be frank, I don’t wanna hear shit from you,” she swayed sassily, circling you like a shark, her tail sashaying around.

“… Why’m I here then?” 

She paused, the muscles in her back flexing. Your gut tumbled. 

Ellie turned to face you, lips curling devilishly. 

“Well… ” she trailed off, voice alluring. “It gets lonely down here. I don’t have anybody to call. Nights are so cold.” 

She suddenly dropped to her knees, sensuality practically leaking out of her as she crawled towards you. Your heart was thumping, stomach in knots. 

“I need you… to do exactly what I tell you…” 

Your breaths shuddered the closer she got.

“I’m so fuckin’ hungry… Just sit there and let me take what I want,” Her mumbles were drunk and lustful. “You fucking owe me. I’m trapped here ‘cause of you.” 

She straddled your lap, eyes glued to yours. They flashed red, and an appendage locked around your throat, knocking the wind from your lungs and pulling you flat onto the dirt. You tried to pull against it, but it tightened on your airways. You choked, pain searing in your shoulder, causing you to let up. Another set of slimy appendages clasped around your wrists, followed swiftly by two locking down your ankles. 

The burn from your bleeding shoulder made your nipples harden under your filthy sweatshirt. She chuckled above you. 

“That was quick,” Her brow arched. “Haven’t gotten any? What, no one wants to drill a felon?” She cooed with a pout. 

You shot her a glare. A squeeze on your throat. A clench from your walls. 

“Oh!” She exclaimed in remembrance. “Sorry about that club fiasco. I was gonna fuck you then, but seeing you enjoying yourself got on my nerves, so.” 

She rambled on about how she made a whole plan to ruin your life the second she found you until you were rotting in the grave, but you weren’t listening. Your eyes moved over her lips, down her neck, over her bare chest, blood burning under your skin. Another squeeze from your cunt. Your face burned with every drop of slick that left you. 

“Think I’m cute? The horns doing it for ya?” she interrupted your gawking. 

You averted your gaze. She snorted before her expression went lubricious, eyes glossing over.  

“You smell so good,” she slurred with fluttery lids. 

No, you don’t. You haven’t showered—

“I meant your pussy, you fucking idiot,” her eyes rolled in annoyance. “You’re killin’ my vibe. Shut up.” 

Your eyes widened in shock; Don’t think, don’t think—

“She smelled like that in the club. Just needed some lovin’, hm?” Her hand reached back to pat your pussy over your pajama shorts and you squealed. You’re leaking. 

“Oh, she’s starving— “

Fear and arousal flurried in your tummy, “What’re you gonna do?” 

You could almost see the wires in her head sparking to life. She leaned over you, her cold body pressed against yours, noses almost touching. 

“I’m gonna rip that pussy open until I feel better…” The aura around her was smokey and blinding. “And then…” Her nose bumped against yours, almost affectionately. “I’m gonna rip that fucking throat out. Might hang your body from a tree. I needa decorate.” 

A choked sob left you, thighs rubbing together as tears plummeted down your temples. Ellie shushed you gently, her forked tongue licking over the droplets before they cascaded down into the grass. 

Every swipe of her tongue sent a zap through your face. The sting sent your jolt through your spine, hips bucking into her. A hot, slick line ran up your cheek, grazing your jawline, cat-like spines digging into your clammy skin. 

… Is… Is she really…?

You couldn’t stop the shudder that ran up your body, your foot jerking outward at the sensation. The tentacle clenched around your ankles, and you gasped. Ellie was grinding on top of you, whimpering into your neck, marking your skin. 

“E-Ellie, El— “

Another swipe, a thick, sticky trail burning its way into your hairline. Your whines are almost inaudible. Pain is burning up your legs when the organ twisted tighter; You’re shocked your ankle didn’t snap in two. 

She moved faster on top of you, pleasantly sighing into your neck. Your face is fucking sizzling. 

“What the… fuck,” The situation is settling in for you: Ellie’s dead… but, not? And she’s humping you like a dog. You shouldn’t want to watch her, observe the love of your life get off on your fucking stomach, but you — your pussy wants it — needs her. 

You missed her so fucking much. 

Soft chuckles erupted from her, icy breath on your neck. She sat up, rubbing her bare cunt on your tummy. 

“You wanna watch?” 

No, no no please—

Your head shook, mind racing with pleads for her to touch you, but she stared back in disapproval. 

“I think you wanna watch,” She sat up, lifting her knees and resting her freezing hands on your thighs, her pretty pussy on full display, “Missed me that bad?” 

She’s right there, but you can’t move. More tears, more begging from you. 

“Wanna see a trick I learned?” She inquired mischievously. You didn’t have a chance to answer before more vine-like organs emerged from the dirt, eager and throbbing, globs of slick dribbling from their tips.

“When you’re sad and horny, answers will eventually fall in your lap,” She watched the appendages sliver all over her shoulders, her back, down her stomach. Her head flew back, her short flyways waving around her horns. 

“I bet that fucked up head of yours never expected this would happen, huh? Never thought you’d see me like this?” She moaned out as the suctioned limb traveled over her left nipples, her eyes beaming red, scorching through your chest. 

Your walls squeezed down on nothing, desperate groans leaving your throat, underwear clinging to your cunt. You couldn’t close your legs, the members slinked around coming up to suck on your thighs. 

Nasty little cuck, her voice boomed through your skull, Wanna watch me get fucked, right?

Your head bobbed dumbly. The appendages scurried down her body. You watched as the veins in her horns glowed brighter, her eyes shading an even deeper scarlet, her lip catching between her teeth when the suctions came in contact with her clit. 

The slippery members attacked your thighs with strong suctions, the sensitive skin littered with blotchy, dark spots. A wet slither made its way up your body, under your sweatshirt and in between your tits. The tip teased both nipples, your back arching deeper for more friction. The air was muggy and your body was disgustingly sticky; The sensations made your clit jerk. 

You blearily stared up at Ellie, nearly cumming at the sight of her with a thick, throbbing appendage fucking into her pussy, another two attacking her nipples. Her walls were stretched around the dark, pulsing tentacle, her juices filling the open air with sopping squelches. 

Her eyes fluttered open and refocused on you, a dark line of drool dripping from her mouth and landing on your exposed torso. You released a pained shout, your skin burning at the contact. Tension built tight in your core, clit throbbing in your underwear. You’re struggling to breathe, head floating further into the clouds with each whimper from Ellie. She giggled hazily, moans sounding between her condescending snickers. She gathered spit in her mouth and allowed it dribble onto one of your breasts. 

S’hitting it s’good! Fuck, I can’t—

Finally, finally, the tentacles choking your legs unraveled and crawled up, closer to your drenched cunt. Just one touch — you need one touch and you’ll cum. Just one, just one, please, please—

Slut needs t’cum? Beg some fuckin’ more, c’mon, Ellie’s moans and shouts in your head were somehow bringing you closer to that peak you desperately craved. 

“Please, El, please, fuck… me— “

“I’m — oh, fuck, yes— “

Your shorts and underwear were being ripped from around your waist, yanking you in all directions. The friction made your walls constrict tight. The harsh suctions on your clit were instantaneous. Finally, finally, finally—

You and Ellie’s moans melted together, colors floating behind your eyelids. The wet sounds from Ellie’s pussy made your peak build in record time, zoning in on her cries. You’re going to cum so hard. It’s almost there, just a little bit more— 

Ellie’s everywhere. In your head, line of blurry vision, on top of you, about to break and shatter. She's so perfect, shrouded in darkness and gloom and desire.

The tentacle suddenly expanded inside her pussy, stretching it wider, massaging all the spots that made her see white. 

“M’gonna fucking cum, s’gonna make me cum— “

You’re so close, you’re close, you’re close. You wordlessly begged her to cum with you. Her knees trembled while her legs begged to close, but she forced them open. Forced herself to take everything, all of it. The tentacle pulsed sporadically inside her, and she crashed. 

Pleasure was snatched away from you in an instant, the suckles on your clit gone. You cried and sobbed for Ellie to make you cum, but she ignored you, her body wracking in pleasure, heavy globs of black slick dribbling from her cunt, right under your tits. 

She rode it out, bouncing on the large appendage before it shrunk to its original size. It jerked inside her a few more times before leaving her completely, more dark, gooey liquid dripping from her pussy. 

She came down slowly, giddy laughs leaving her swollen lips as her walls rippled from the aftershocks. 

“This is gonna be…” she scooped up some of the substance with her razor-like nails before shoving them into your mouth. 

The peculiar twang coated your tastebuds. She continued. 

“So much fun.” 

You never thought you’d have the chance to kiss Ellie again. 

But you are, and you’re so fucking nervous. 

When you kissed her for the first time, you were confident, impulsive, reckless. Your regret didn’t come until after, but now here you two were, her split tongue messily sliding over yours, your tongue sizzling from the venom coating her mouth. Ellie’s mess seeped into your skin with each jerk of her hips. You’d give anything to touch her. 

Your eyes squeezed shut every time she suckled on your lips, licked up your chin, squeezed her hand over your throat. She’s much more secure this time around; It’s almost enough to get you there. 

Almost. 

You were suddenly yanked back by your hair, head thudding the ground. Ellie seemed deep in thought, eyes distant. 

“You’re a bad kisser.” 

Your lip quivered. Ouch, “S… Sorry…”

“Ellie?” Your throat burned. 

“Yes, dear?”

Her tone made you flinch. Everything you wanted to say left your brain in a cloud of smoke. 

“Am… Am I…?”

“Are youuu…?” She trailed off. Her hand disappeared, lower, before a loud, sticky noise blaring in your head. She sighed happily; Ellie’s touching herself. Right in front of your face. 

Your face is on fire and your shoulders are cramping up. 

“Will… Can I, can I cum?” 

“I don’t know… can you?” She shrugged with a smile. 

Your eyes nearly rolled in annoyance; they would’ve if you weren’t so desperate to be fucked senseless. 

She sat up fully, her wet hand reaching right in between your legs. They nearly clamped shut on her wrist, but more tentacles appeared to hold them open for her. She wasn’t looking at your pussy, but she knew exactly where to touch you. She rubbed her own juices into your clit, a nasty shhlck filling the calm air. 

Tears built in your eyes at the sensitivity, your toes digging into the dirt beneath you. Her thoughtless mumbles were barely registering in your melting brain. Your impending orgasm nearly crashed into you before she stopped. 

Your body tensed and your pleasure dissipated. Sobs left your mouth as you garbled, “E—llie, please, please, no more— “

“Don’t close your legs, I mean it. Take what I give you like a good bitch,” Ellie shimmied down your body, resting in between your legs. The tentacles hooked under your knees and forced them up, holding them right against your chest. You can’t see what Ellie’s doing and she’s silent. 

You wanted to ask what was taking so fucking long—

A loud crack rang through the heavily wooded area, pain searing through your thigh. The stinging sensation brought tears to your eyes, sobbing softly to yourself. 

The sudden flicking against your clit brought tears to your eyes. She’s touching you, finally. Your arms pulled at the veiny tentacles still clamped around your wrist, aches running down to your shoulders at the stiffness. 

Ellie’s fingers were replaced with something much softer, and your body turned to mush. The appendages around your thighs twisted tighter, gripped harder, as the barbs from her tongue caught on your clit. It felt so fucking good; her split muscle moved so quick on your clit; your yelps of her name sound into the crisp air. You’ve been on the verge of cumming this entire time, but you can’t.

Suddenly, her tongue is easing downward, brushing against your perineum. Your hips tried to push down into her muscle, but to no avail. You could feel numbness building in your feet from the restriction. 

Look at this tight little ass, two of her fingers were massaging your other hole, causing you to whimper. 

Yeah? she pressed down harder, Like it right there?

Your head gravely bobbed in approval; you’ve never been touched there, but you crave it now. 

Tiny fucking hole… gotta get you ready, huh?

Her voice is thick and haughty; you’re shivering. 

A glob of spit lands on your ass, the sensitive skin tingling, numbness spreading across the pulsing area. She rubbed it in quickly and gave your hole one last slap. 

Her tongue was back at your cunt; you squealed at the sensation of her tongue slivering past your entrance, walls stretching over her muscle. The soft splinters massaged your walls just right, caressing all the spots inside you and you felt it building — 

Suddenly, her tongue stretched wider, expanded, pressed down on your walls, right on your spot; you were squirting on her tongue seconds later. You couldn’t warn her of your orgasm before you bursted, walls desperately milking her as satisfied shouts escaped your lips, your brain turning to goo. 

“El — mmh! Fuck, yes, rightthere! —“

Sniveled thank yous were pouring from your lips as Ellie fucked into you, your juices coating her face. Bursts of color exploded behind your eyelids. 

You thought you would never come down, but the intensity of your orgasm slowed, eyes slowly blinking open. Your vision was spotty; Ellie slowly pulled out, humming at the squeals that left you. You couldn’t move. 

Suddenly all the tentacles were gone, limbs free and weightlessly plopping onto the ground. Your eyelids fell shut in exhaustion, your heart flooding with longing.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” A light kick on your shoulder. 

Ellie… 

“Get the fuck up. I’m not done,” she snorted coldly. 

Ellie… please…

“What the fuck did I say,” The agitation in her tone rose. 

I’m so sorry… 

“I don’t care,” You were suddenly pushed onto your back, Ellie standing over you, eyes glowing dimly. 

I miss you so much… 

Memories of your past flowed through you, soft sobs shaking your weak form. Ellie deserved… everything good out of life. The purest forms of happiness were destined in her path, and you took it away. You took everything from her, and all you could do was watch what she’s become. What you caused. 

The more you cried, the more disgusted she seemed, eyes growing darker. 

She pounced on you in seconds, nails grasping your bunched sweatshirt and sharp tail tip prepped to end you right then and there, speckles of spit splattering on your face due to her shouts. 

“DON'T!” The dying world around you shook with the bass of her tone. “Don’t you fucking dare!” 

You didn’t fight. You allowed her to berate you, call you every vile name in the book, and digested her wishes of you dying instead of her. Every scream slammed into your chest; you merely laid there, ready to die with love in your chest. 

I love you… I love you… I love you… 

“FUCK YOU, YOU LYING BITCH! FUCK YOU! YOU FUCKING DID THIS TO ME! I’M GONNA KILL YOU— “

Bloody streams fall from Ellie’s eyes, the veins in her head changing from maroon to coal, the veins in her arms darkening as her voice deepened, razorous teeth baring. She sobbed and screamed from above you, wailing how much she hated you. You’re numb. 

The venom from her tail was discharging from the tip. It’s time; it’s your last day alive. You nodded to yourself. You deserve this; You’re ready. You hope your siblings aren’t too saddened by your disappearance. 

Is this the final stage of grief? Your body is lax and accepting, heavy droplets leaving your eyes when they shut. 

I love you… I’m sorry… I love you… 

Another sharp prick went through your shoulder, and darkness enclosed around you. 

JUNIOR YEAR: 2012

You’re such a dork!

Ellie swears her heart is going to grow legs and crawl up her throat in the next thirty seconds if you keep staring at her like that. She's projecting; She’s the dork!

The few shots she took at the lake were wearing off, and her nerves were finally catching up to her. She was surrounded by your pillows, your stuffies, your scent; she could barely swallow, her throat was so dry. 

You love me. 

She does. Ellie never acted on her swiftly developed crush; she’s not built for rejection, especially from you. The smile on your face was so bright; your joy was so apparent whenever she was around. She hoped her own happiness reflected the same way; Please love me back! Please please please—

Her heart exploded, sewed itself back together, only to explode again when your hand came up, fingertips barely grazing her cheek. She’s going to faint; your touch was so soft. Was she crazy to compare the feel of your hands to rose petals? She tried to keep her nuzzles subtle, pushing her face closer to your hand; Is this how cats feel when they want cuddles? 

You proceeded to explore her face in silent adoration, and she did the same, memorizing every detail she could. The moles on your face were lined like stars. 

She scooted closer to give you more access to her now burning skin, and you kissed her. Ellie was stunned, body stiff; she didn’t have a chance to kiss you back before you pulled away. The scent of alcohol was pouring from you, and Ellie snapped back to reality. 

You’re drunk. You kissed her and you’re drunk. 

You’re probably not going to remember the entire night when you wake the next morning. Ellie’s eyes nervously searched your now downcast face. Say something, you coward! 

But you spoke first. 

You love me, right? 

More than anything, Ellie wanted to scream, not caring if your parents woke up and kicked her out. But she couldn’t. Her brain was moving a million miles a minute, trying to find the words that would satisfy her feelings, but they were too strong. She’s in too deep; Words aren’t enough. 

But you look broken and your body’s tense. She’s putting you on edge and she hates herself for it. 

Do you love me? Your begging tone snapped her out of her head. 

Of course I do, she gasped, mouth gaping like a fish. 

More than anything! More than anything! I love you! 

You only nodded, relaxed back into her, and shut your eyes. 

Ellie went to sleep with a terrible feeling in her stomach, but she held you anyway. 

Ellie’s weight crushed you as she sobbed into your neck, her cries loud and guttural, the sharp puncture of her horn pressing into the plush of your cheek. Her curses grew weak and quiet, mumbles of I fucking hate you cementing into your skin. 

You simply laid beneath her, unmoving and stunned wordless at the memory — the truth that Ellie exposed to you. Her body jerked on yours as she wailed. 

You hardly noticed the fresh tears rolling down your face. You sniffed, “Ellie…”

She sobbed, her head shaking dismissively. 

“Ellie… Look at me…” You couldn’t move. 

“Fuck you,” her choked murmur was hushed. 

A sad smile grew on your face. 

“Almost did…” 

Ellie sniffed harshly against the burnt skin on your neck, almost touching your bloody shoulder, “What.” She mumbled flatly. 

“Y’know… you almost did fuck me.” 

Some silence passed before a wet snort came from below you. Your grin widened. 

Ellie’s shoulders shook slightly as she snickered into your neck, arching hers slightly to look at you. 

“I should kill you for that, you cunt. You’re not funny.” 

Your body jerked with laughter, and you grimaced at the pain in your shoulder. “That's what you get.” Ellie sat up straight, smile slowly dissipating, eyes glossing over. 

The light moment between you shifted, and sorrow weighed you down like bricks. 

“I fucking loved you,” Ellie whispered harshly. “I wanted you to be happy. And you didn’t fucking care.” Anger was radiating off her, but the dread in her eyes was more telling. “You were… everything to me.” 

The wounds in your heart were overflowing; your efforts of repairing your heart were proved pointless, blood and love and suffering filling your chest to the brim. Quiet sobs were shared between the two of you.

“Please k-kiss me,” Ellie’s eyes squeezed shut at your hushed proposal. 

“Just one more. You can do whatever you want… just one last time.” 

You sat up slowly, ignoring the deep aches in your side, your trembling hands cautiously raising to cup Ellie’s frosty cheeks. 

Her face is so close; her lips are right there… just one more, just one—

Ellie’s eyes traveled across your face, lust and years of longing flooding in her tears. Her eyes shut and she leaned forward, her cold lips melding against yours. The kiss was gentle, your eyes squeezing shut as you cried, your tears transferring onto her cheeks. 

Ellie’s hushed tone filled your head. 

I wish I hated you. 

You choked a sob, arms wrapping around her hips to pull her closer, her arms enclosing around your neck, the kiss growing hotter. You needed her closer; so much closer. 

Her tongue slid past your mouth, the split muscle messily flicking over yours as her hips bucked down. You heard loud tears of cloth coming from behind you as Ellie shredded your sweatshirt with her claws, discarding the fabric on the dark heaps of grass. 

She sighed into your mouth when you laid her back onto the grass soaking, crawling on top of her. Her legs wrapped around your waist, pulling you down to reconnect your mouths, her fangs cutting into your bottom lip. She sucked the injured skin, humming at the metallic taste; your hips bucked down harder to meet hers, and she whimpered. 

Her hands were freezing as they slid down your bare sides, claws pressing into your hips. You could feel your heart pounding in your throat as you kissed down her neck, soft noises of satisfaction erupting from beneath you. You suckled on her throat, tongue sliding down to her jaw and back up again.

“Can I, fuck, let me do something— “

You moaned in approval, thighs shaking at the sound of her voice, coming back up to press your mouth against hers. 

A heavy gasp left you at the feel of slime dripping onto your thigh. Ellie dug her nails into your hips to steady you, and you whined at the sting. You stared down, entranced at her gleaming eyes, bottom lip trapped between her teeth. 

“Hold still.” Ellie’s whisper was strangely comforting, your body relaxing into hers. The light suck on your thigh made you squeak, chuckles releasing from the girl beneath you. 

“And you’ve been doing this for how long?” you jokingly snarked, voice shaky. 

“Meh, six years, nothing crazy,” she replied, shrugging sarcastically. “Just don’t move.” 

Ellie’s hand moved lower, pressing at the end of your spine to deepen the arch in your back. She shushed your eager whimpers, slowly easing your hips back until your cunt brushed against the serpent-like organ. You shuddered and attempted to jerk away at the strange sensation, but Ellie held you still, snorting to herself. 

A sharp gasp escaped your lips at the feel of its tip swirling at your clit, your head dropping onto Ellie’s shoulder. It took mere seconds for the suction to attack your sensitive clit, pleasured moans huffing from your mouth. Ellie’s mouth was right by your ear, her chilled breaths sending shockwaves down your spine. Your clit throbbed under the pressure: how were you already on the verge of cumming? 

“Feels g-good? Yeah?” 

Your walls were squeezing down harshly, desperate to hug and milk something hot through your orgasm. It takes all your strength to lift your head and kiss Ellie, but she does all the work; licking into your mouth, sucking on your tongue, bruising your lips with every slice of her fang. Every pass of her tongue is a pull in your gut, your clit pulsating with vigor. 

She pulled back, just barely, to whisper how excited she is to fuck you, to turn your pussy out, to make you cry.  Your moans were loud and eager, your head bobbing dumbly in compliance with anything she wanted. You’d give her everything you could in this moment. 

Ellie’s in your head, in your senses, in between your thighs, and you’re losing it. She’s reaching at you, tugging at your body in any way she could: scratching at your tits, pulling your hair, clawing into your skin with intent to scar. You’re sure your back is bloody. Her touch is painful; why does it feel so good? 

Your thoughtless head drops yet again as your orgasm is forced out of you, your walls choking the hot air surrounding the two of you. Your wails are muffled along with Ellie’s spat praises, your hips bucking back for more. The pleasure is almost too much and you’ve barely started; She hasn’t even fucked you yet. 

Your juices are pooling out of you, knowingly making a puddle on Ellie’s tummy, her affirmed moans pulling more and more out of you. Your peak is unrelenting, draining every last bit of energy your body has left. Your limbs gave out, your weight crashing on top of Ellie’s. 

She hastily maneuvered you onto your back, the spines of grass puncturing your skin from beneath you as she climbed on top. 

“Your stamina’s fucked.” 

Her winded snide remarks didn’t bother you; you need her to fuck you. You’re sweaty and desperate to feel her everywhere. She wasted no time, reuniting your mouths in an eager kiss as her hands ventured anywhere they could. Your body’s aching, but for some reason, you crave more. More hurt, more pain; You need her to use you. 

The world around you moved like water; unlike your first dream, the waves brought comfort. Ellie’s touch felt like the ocean washing you away, all with effort to finally bring you peace. 

But it didn’t work. You love her; You deserve pain, and you love her. 

Her mouth is on your tits, biting and sucking at your nipples. It feels so good to have her this close; your body’s wet and ready for her to ravish you. 

Ellie scurried down your body, sat on her knees in between your legs, her hands pressed under yours to hold them up. Your thighs are resting on your chest as Ellie dribbles a line of slobber over your soaking lips. Hums fill the space between you as it slides down, right over your entrance. 

Seconds pass as Ellie stares at your cunt; You call out to her by mistake. 

“What.” 

Fuck. “No-nothing. Sorry.”

“You want something. Say it.” 

You shake your head, and she smiles. Raunchy imagery of her fucking your pussy flash across your mind in an instant, and her grin widens. 

You jolt at the sudden slap on your cunt before Ellie presses your legs even higher, knees almost next to your head. You ignore the aching stretch in your limbs and reach to grab your ass cheeks, holding them open for her. Heat spreads across your face when she moans at the sight. 

Oh fuck, Ellie’s whimpering to herself; whining about how good your pussy’s going to feel, how you’re going to swallow her whole, choke her out. Juices are oozing from your cunt with each jerk of your walls. 

A tentacle emerges from the ground, and Ellie’s expression darkens. It’s lecherous; the way she eyes your pussy as the organ slivers closer to your entrance. You couldn’t hold your moans in anticipation of the stretch. It’s right there, swelling and twitching. 

Your head falls back against the sopping grass when your hole grasps the wide, leaking tip, eyes rolling into your head as Ellie’s moans ring deep in your skull. The tentacle is practically melting between your walls as they spasm. 

Ellie’s so loud above you, completely hunched over your form as her body shudders, her lip trapped between her sharp teeth. They must’ve pierced the skin, a thin trail of black liquid dripping all the way down her neck. 

You take it so fuckin’ good, Ellie’s slurring, tongue swelled in her mouth. You’re already peaking, your legs attempting to slam shut at the tight hug of your walls. The organ is suddenly swelling, walls stretching around the girth to trap it as deep as it can go. Tears are running down your face, groans of Ellie’s name melding with your harsh breaths. 

Seconds pass, and the tentacle’s shooting inside, and your head goes blank, your orgasm slamming into you. You're silent as it wrings your body. The intensity is almost painful, like it’s being forced from your body and your cunt’s drained dry: it’s hot inside you where the fluid pools, and your walls are sucking it deeper. 

You didn’t register Ellie falling forward, her body convulsing on yours, screams of how good your cunt is leaving her in a flurry. Her words are gritted and deep and her nails are in your bicep, but the pain only makes you cum harder. 

It’s been minutes, and you’re deadweight, walls twitching around the still jerking organ planted deep inside your guts. No time to recover, though; Ellie’s pulling out, a nasty sound echoing at her departure as cum seeps — drenches the grass under you. It’s never-ending and sticky and you need more. 

Ellie’s already up and moving you onto your stomach, your cheek pressed against the dirt. She’s hasty, spitting on your cunt with a fiery just a dumb slut, huh? You nod, squeezing your walls to push more cum out. There are heavy suctions on your back, forcing blood to the surface at the curve of your spine. Followed by a sharp stabbing on your ass cheek. 

Ellie’s mouth is on your supple skin, and the blood in your ass rushes to the surface. Her fangs are locked into you as she empties the veins in your ass. 

You couldn’t even scream, eyes squeezing shut at the searing pain as your walls release more cum. Ellie hums: another bite. More blood’s leaving you, being sucked from your ass, your thighs, the end of your spine, but it’s not enough. You need more. Ellie’s draining you but it’s not nearly enough. 

Another tentacle presses in once more, and your vision’s blurring; there’s another tentacle sucking at your ass, your eyes crossing at the stimulation of both your holes. Ellie’s nails are breaking the skin of your back, dribbles of blood sliding down your sides and into the dirt. You love her and you love it; everything feels so warm and full and good. 

Ellie’s chides are making you wetter; your thighs won’t stop shaking, she sounds so sexy. Every shockwave in your brain is memorizing every word, every syllable. She's babbling about how she might spare, keep you trapped here forever so she can drain your blood through your pussy, suck you dry, and it gets you there again. 

Ellie — m’cu—cumming!

You don’t know what you’re saying; voice muffled against the dirt, tears and snot running down your face while you squeal like a pig. Ellie’s calling you one as you squirt on her, just a dumb, worthless pocketpussy; The smile on your face is stupid as your walls drain her while she throbs inside you. You’re so stuffed with her cum already, but you need more inside you. You feel so fucking good and the pleasure won’t seize. 

It picks up again as the thrusts get faster, hitting you deeper, just where you need it. You don’t get to recover before you’re slung into another mind-numbing orgasm, your body wracking without rest. Ellie’s massaging every spot that makes your spine break, dirt collecting under your nails as they puncture the ground. Your groans are cracking in your throat; You can’t even swallow. 

The tentacle’s swelling again, and Ellie’s hand is on the back of your head, pressing your cheek against the grass, nails scratching at your scalp as you beg for her cum. Her moans are picking up again, demanding that you beg some more, that you fucking cry for it, be a good girl a bleed for me. And you do. 

As messily as you can; slobber pooling at your mouth as you sob and choke for her cum, eyes crossed in your skull as your tongue lolls, and Ellie’s shooting in you again, stuffing you to the brim as she cries your name from behind, grunts leaving her with each rope of cum seeps in your womb. 

Your pussy’s melting around her when the sucking at your ass pauses, only to push in the incredibly tight space, to stretch your virgin hole open around its girth. It should hurt, having both holes filled to such a wild degree, but it doesn’t. Your weak arm is reaching behind, desperately grabbing at Ellie. You expect her to smack you away, to hit you, to slice your hand clean off your wrist, but she doesn’t; You almost miss the light touch, her pinky lacing with yours. 

You’re joyous, head dropping as you sob from pleasure and happiness, heart filled with a love that you never thought you’d feel again. 

She’s drilling your ass, fucking you so hard and good as she holds your smallest finger with hers, kissing down your bloody back, licking up the scarlet that leaks from your skin. Suddenly, another tentacle — much smaller than the ones tearing your holes up — emerges from the ground, right in front of your face, its juices leaking onto your cheeks. 

It wiggles in front of your open mouth before shoving in; the taste is salty and metallic, but your lips work it, sucking and licking all around the length. You feel so filthy and it’s making your tummy tug, another orgasm building in your pussy and ass. It’s going to shatter you completely from its strength, you can feel it. 

Your body’s aching for more cum; you’re surprised it’s not coming spilling from your throat and onto the appendage in your mouth. But Ellie’s close, every whisper becoming more frantic as she rides that edge. 

You’re mine, she whispers in your ear, Fucking mine, you understand? You’re not going anywhere. 

You get it, you get it! You’re never leaving her again. Fuck everything you’ve built for yourself! Your life is pointless without Ellie next to you. You’re going to cum so hard for her. 

Your body’s hers; Your heart is hers; your soul is hers. You love her, you love her! 

Baby likes that? I own this fucking pussy? 

She knows she does: whispers so gross and conniving and you’re twitching under her. You’re babbling around the swelling appendage, telling her — screaming that you belong to her, you always have. You always will! 

You feel her teeth as she grins madly in satisfaction, sloppily mumbling mine mine s’ my pussy against your skin as she swells inside you. You’re stretching, gaping around her and you snap, head planting into the dirt. Both sets of walls clamp down sporadically around the large digits between them, the tentacle slipping from your mouth as you scream. 

Ellie’s exploding inside both holes, the tentacle above you spraying all over your face, heavy globs of cum landing in your hair, the back of your neck, splattering on your mouth, anywhere it could reach. Juices are spraying from between you, and Ellie falls forward, her freezing chest on your back as she jerks on top of you. Hearing her just as destroyed from the pleasure sends another surge of euphoria through you, somehow stronger than the first. 

You can barely take it, but Ellie makes you, continues flooding your holes until they’re overflowing and sticky. You’re both sent to another plane as you convulse together, her pinky still locked with yours as you lose consciousness. 

When you wake, there’s warmth. 

You’re still filled to the brim with cum, but your form is blanketed. Small, tired huffs hit your back as Ellie shivers on top of you, barely audible noises alerting her satisfaction. You smile. 

You can't move; all your strength is used to wiggle the cramped muscle of your interlocked finger. Tears well in your eyes when Ellie’s finger hugs yours tighter with every small movement. 

Ellie’s the blanket; Ellie’s warm. 

Suddenly, everything around you is pink, the formerly empty spaces in your heart filled with affection. You missed Ellie so much; You’re finally reunited, and in love. You can’t stop smiling, and neither can she. 

—

—

—

‘BREAKING NEWS: BAKERY OWNER FOUND DECAPITATED IN MOTEL BED’

Today marks one of the most heart-wrenching, horrifying days that our community has ever seen, the local reporter stated. We have never witnessed a case end this disastrous. 

To the loved ones of this individual, we share our deepest condolences. The victim made such a large impact on our tiny town with her small business. Nobody… the reporter sighed, Nobody could’ve seen this coming. 

Please be on the lookout for any updates regarding the suspect. Investigators are putting as much effort into this case as they can. Police suggest staying indoors with your loved ones this holiday until further instructions. 

May God be with her family. Have a blessed night. 

idk how to use picsart sorry yall LOL

taggiesss ily thank u 4 being patient :D :

@digit4lslut @hrtmal @sawaagyapong @starologist @shurisbigtoe @iamtootiredtopost @elliew-illiamsmissingfingers @sarahsmileslikesarahd0esntcare @slutty4abby @chrry1ovr @moonchild184 @womenofarcane @ohlawdthebirds @ellabsprincess @inf3ct3dd @aouiaa @dropsofs4turn @masclover111 @dyk3ang3l @zzzlove @jayy2inlovee @aandersonsbackpack @jade-posts-sometimes @elspeanut @elsbunny222 @alittlextrahoney @ultraviolenceellie @shamelessparty @0verthebluemoon @yuckyfucky

[messylustt]

This is my first request ever so I’m sorry if I’m not clear enough. 😭😭 so Ethan breaking in readers home and he’s horny he just fúcks her right then and there while she sleeps. Reader is dumb so before all of this she doesn’t really notice that ethan likes her even after several obvious hints. If you’re not comfortable with this it’s fine! You’re an amazing writer!!

i was literally about to write something similar! thanks for the request

unconscious confession — ethan landry + reader ( scream ) : ethan can’t help but touch you in your asleep

contents : smut somnophilia (DONT READ IF IT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE). non con. dark!ethan. wc 1.0k

He slid through the window that lead to your living room, treading quietly. You had a safety ladder—for fire escapes—right by your apartment, that lead to an alleyway. If it was anyone other than Ethan you should have felt concerned.

Though in all honesty Ethan’s intentions with you were not exactly honourable. Your house was dark, all the lights switched off for the night. Ethan silently stepped through your house until he reached your room. He was careful not to make a creak, even though he knew how much of a deep sleeper you were.

Ethan shut your door behind him as he finally glanced at your sleeping form. His breath hitched.

Your duvet was halfway down your body, resting by your hips as the moonlight shone through your window. He would have tried to crawl through there, but he wanted to make sure you were sound asleep before he got too close.

Your shirt was slightly ridden up, showing a sliver of your stomach. Your hair splayed out around you, as your chest slowly heaved up and down. Ethan walked closer, not taking his eyes off you.

You looked beautiful, unaware and peaceful. Ethan dragged his gaze along your face, as he brushed a stray hair from your cheek. His finger halted, continuing to brush across your cheek bone.

Ethan had always found you pretty. When you joined the group, having met everyone at Blackmore University, you fitted in wonderfully. Always a bright smile on your face as you made everyone laugh. Ethan could never take his eyes off you.

He had tried to sit closer to you whenever you all would gather. He had tried to help you with anything and everything you needed. He had dropped hints—some extremely obvious—about his feelings for you. But you just never seemed to notice him.

Ethan began to trace your face. His pointer going down the bridge of your nose, until he reached your lips. When he lightly brushed along your bottom your head shifted slightly, but you still stayed asleep, unaware of the boy beside your bed.

Ethan drags his finger to your top lip, loving the feel of the plump flesh. He drags his finger across the space between your lips, feeling a slight bit of your spit. His chest had already started heaving, as stepped closer, his knee hitting your bed, as he pried your lips open, slowly and carefully.

He then dipped his finger inside, the warmth of your mouth sent a shiver all the way through his body and straight to his dick. He began to brush over your tongue, before pulling his finger out. He was growing heavy and dazed, as your mouth stayed cracked open a fraction.

He began to shift his gaze down your body. You were just in a loose large shirt, the shape of your breasts telling him you indeed were wearing no form of a bra.

Ethan shifted to the end of the bed, grabbing the edge of the duvet by your hips and pulling it down. He then crawled onto the your mattress, his legs coming to kneel on either side of your hips. He stared down at you, tilting his head as he observed the fall and rise of your chest.

He was mesmerised, and turned on. He then placed his hands by your head, just hovering over you, his breath hitting your face. He watches you for a moment, and that’s when his morals came to call, telling him how wrong this was.

But Ethan was hard, his throat tightening at the thought of your body being on display for him. How you would feel in his hands.

Ethan leant down and placed a delicate kiss to your cheek, testing the waters. He leaned back to look at you. You didn’t even move. Ethan grinned as he began to place sloppier kisses to jaw, leading all the way to your ear. He darted his tongue out to lick your earlobe, as the feel of your skin against his tongue and lips made him want to grind into you. But he refrained, wanting to feel all of you first.

He rounded your neck, as he licked up the side. He was like panting dog just wanting your attention. He kissed and sucked on your soft skin, unintentionally leaving marks you’d probably question the next day.

Ethan’s hands dug into the mattress as he leant back to his knees. He could see his saliva glistening in the moonlight, all over your neck.

His cock was rock hard. There was no way he was stopping now. His hand touched the bare sliver of your stomach as he widens the gap, pushing your top to reveal more of you. You slightly shifted, but as Ethan grew to realise, you weren’t waking up. You were a deep sleeper indeed.

Ethan began to just touch you, tracing his hands across your skin, rubbing, and leading all the way up until he felt the bottom of your breast. He gulped as his other hand went under your shirt. He started to fondle your breasts, squeezing and and tracing your skin. He peeled your top over them, to rest, scrunched up by your neck.

Your nipples are peaked, the coldish air helping even more so. Ethan just stares for moment, trying not to orgasm right there. He was pathetic, but also desperate. His fingers began to circle around your nipples, feeling the bumpy skin. He then switched to his thumbs, rubbing across both. You shifted, the most you had. Ethan looked up to your eyes, seeing that they were still shut.

He started to quicken his pace, liking the feel your nipples. He then pinches one, earning your body to shift.

Ethan noticed the way you slightly rubbed your thighs together. You were wet, and the thought of feeling how much, made his eyes roll. He reached down to lick one nipple experimentally, before kissing your stomach. He shuffled back, eagerly reaching for the band of your loose shorts. Ethan helped you out of them, by placing a hand on your back and raising your hips. Slowly—of course.

Any sort of fast movements would most likely get to wake. Ethan began pulling the duvet completely off, along with your shorts, all the way down your legs. Goosebumps had begun to litter across your thighs and calves. Ethan dropped your shorts at the end of the bed before tracing his finger up your leg to reach the spot he’d been craving.

Fuck, he was starving. He slowly began to rub you over your panties. He went harder over your clit, going in a figure of eight. He caught a quiet whimper leave your throat. Looking up from his spot at the edge of your bed, he saw your brows had begun to knit together, as you go to rub your thighs again.

Ethan grabs your thighs, pulling you further apart so he could see. He kept one hand on your thigh while the other went back to stroking your pussy. A wet patch had formed on them, making Ethan’s pride inflate.

He settled between your legs, peeling your panties off and tossing them to the side. He spread you wider. You shivered slightly as the air surrounded your open pussy.

Ethan watches as he pulled apart your lips with two of his fingers. You were soaked, and Ethan panted at the sight. He held you open, as his thumb began to spread through your wetness, brushing over your clit repeatedly. You shifted, a moan caught in your throat. He then brought his thumb back to suck your taste off. His grin was almost scary as he leant in, licking quickly at your pussy.

Your legs shifted, but Ethan kept them held down, as he began to lap at your pussy, slow and torturous strokes of his tongue. He covered your entire pussy with his tongue, before he pushed it into your weeping hole. You sleepily moaned as Ethan pulled in and out.

He then pulled away, and kissed your inner thigh. He looked up at your face. You had a cute almost in pain look about you. Your lips pursing as your brows furrowed. Ethan’s eyes grew dark as his fantasies wandered.

He crawled up your body, finally pressing his clothed cock against your pussy. Ethan’s breath hitches. He stares at your lips, before kissing you. He sucked on your bottom lip, pulling way to take off his belt.

Your lips were red from Ethans sucking, and as he pulls his cock out, pumping himself slightly, he kisses them again. He liked kissing you, even if you were t able to kiss him back.

Ethan adjusts himself—slightly preparing if you were to wake—before he pushes the head of his cock into you. He hisses at the feeling of your warmth. Your body is hummed to life, while your mind stayed knocked out, probably dreaming your getting fucked instead.

Ethan began to slowly thrust into you, feeling you clench around him. His breathing was uneven as he uses one hand to play with your tit. Rolling it between his fingers as if this were an addiction.

You feel groggy, disorientated, and…horny. You weren’t sure what was happening. Your eyes slowly blinked awake as a pressure fills you inside. A moan slips past your lips before you could stop it. You then felt the body on top of you. But in your sleepy state all you can feel is pleasure.

You can spot messy curls in the moonlit room. And a body, thrusting into you. Your head falls further into your pillow as you whimper. You felt so good.

Ethan seemed to realise you had woken up. He was surprised you hadn’t pushed him off yet, but when he saw your heavy lidded eyes, he realised that you were a heavy mix of sleepy, confused and fucked out. He quickened his thrusts, aiming higher inside you. You choked a moan as your back arched against your bed.

Ethan didn’t dare speak, for fear of ruining whatever state you were in. He just kept thrusting, getting closer and closer to his expending orgasm. Fuck, he felt good, and you felt amazing clenching around him.

He stares down at your fucked out face, open mouth, hooded eyes, and bare body and couldn’t find it in himself to regret.

You hadn’t noticed him before. And maybe you wouldn’t even now, in your haze. But Ethan leant down and kisses you, wanting to feel you kiss him back.

And you do, head spinning with pleasure. Ethan growls into your responding mouth as your tongues clash. He didn’t regret it.

And maybe that makes him immoral, or psychotic or just simply fucked up. But he would do anything to touch you, hold you, and gather your entire attention. He thrusts harder into you, making you fall apart underneath him.

Ethan would do anything to have you kissing him. Panting against your mouth he finally spoke. “You look so pretty…y/n.”

© messylustt.tumblr please don’t steal, copy or translate my work onto other platforms.

[nehts]

Thinking .

[milf-harrington]

hi i wrote a short little something inspired by this post bc it wouldn't leave my head

season 2 canon divergence, in the aftermath of Steve being taken in by Hopper (don't ask me why it's happened, bc i dont know it's just how the story took shape in my head)

--

Steve was pulling a pizza out of the oven when El drifted into the kitchen, bumping hear head against his arm like one of the Henderson's cats. Her hair was starting to curl at the ends, longer than when he'd met her.

"Can you please tell Hop to go to the store? We are out of Eggo's."

She was already holding the walkie when he turned to give her a look, eyes wide and quietly expectant in that intense way of hers. He rolled his eyes, sucking pizza sauce off his knuckle as he reached for the walkie.

They had a quiet stare-off as he held the button down.

"Hey Hop, you there? Over."

Soft static buzzed through the speaker as El leaned further into him, turning her gaze away to inspect the pizza, before Hopper's voice came through with a crackle.

"I'm working." A pause, and then a reluctant: "Over."

He and Hopper shared a similar opinion on walkie-talkie etiquette, but the kids were insistent so they did their best. El looked from the walkie and back to Steve without blinking. He sighed a short laugh. Pressed the button again.

"Jane needs you to go to the store. Over." Better to use her other name if he was working.

"Eggo's?"

"Eggo's."

Satisfied that her demand request had been passed on, El slipped out of the kitchen and plopped down in front of the tv, crossing her legs underneath her as the screen flickered to life. The remote remained untouched on the bench. She wiped her nose with her sleeve.

"Well, I currently have an 18 year old in the back of my car and I'll have to run him to the station first." Another pause. "-ucks sake, over."

The words fell out of his mouth without any real thought, a years worth of comfort in himself dissolving any filter he might've had. "Is he cute?"

The walkie crackled. Steve wanted to smack himself in the head with it.

"My son wants to know if you're cute."

Oh, he was going to kill him, even if he did feel warm and fuzzy over being called Hops' son.

"Uh, I want to say yes, sir?"

There was a second of loud laughter before the walkie cut off and Steve pressed it to his forehead in silent mortification. From the living area, canned laughter from Happy Days burst out of the speakers like the universe was mocking him.

When he looked up, El was smiling at the screen in bemused wonder, colours flashing across her face.

He cleared his throat, eyes shut as he held down the button again. "Please remember the Eggo's on your way home, we're having pizza. Over and out."

He pressed the antenna down for his own dramatics, before quickly pulling it back out again so he could be reached for emergencies.

It wasn't that big a deal, it's not like he'd ever actually meet whoever had been in the car.

[satoruhour]

While I know Suguru is the og girldad, there’s something so endearing about Satoru with a daughter.

First time she’s in his arms and it’s like somebody put the sun into his palms. She has his white hair and six eyes but in shape of your facial features, his loud and boisterous personality and his sweet tooth, and there’s not a thing on this planet he cherishes more than her. Spoils her, wants to be her “superhero” dad children look up to, you best believe everything she draws for him is kept secure in a folder in his room. He never lets anyone treat her as inferior to boys (knowing the misogyny in jjk universe), and both of them love you to piecessssss🥹

Like I just randomly imagine him baking a cake with his little daughter for your birthday and MY HEARTHNSJ😭

WHEN US MEANS MORE THAN ME & U

a/n: literal tears. bye. i love dad gojo sm. wrote this through tears while listening to this. tagging @crysugu @jabamin @hyomagiri @seeingivy ✶

wc: 3k plus?? man idfk cant see thru my tears

✶ dad!gojo . . .

. . . who ages so well the more he grows older. if you think he looks good at 28, just wait until he’s 34, or 40. although he still has a baby face, his features have matured way more, now, crinkle lines on his forehead and around his lips that accentuate his dimples even more. he just looked… so damn good, truly keeping his physique well into his thirties, except you wouldn’t have known if his hair is turning grey, though, since it’s already white, but you can tell he’s happy when his body hair is not just white upon white.

. . . who has the palest skin, so when he starts to grow a noticeable moustache and goatee he shows you the short strands excitedly, pointing to the various parts of his face with an excited finger and a beaming smile. he annoys you by rubbing his chin and cupid’s bow along your skin in the morning or when he returns home — it’s a little funny seeing you jump in surprise.

. . . who only lets you dictate whether he should keep the facial hair and when you hesitate even one moment (“nope! let’s shave it!”) you’re pulled into the bathroom and handed a shaver and shaving cream. he hums when the blade glides along his skin, knowing you were too afraid to be too rough. gojo liked the tenderness of these moments, you perched upon his lap and bottom lip caught in between your lips as you focused on his chin and cupid’s bow. the grip on your waist is firm, loving the way your thighs close around his own so snugly.

“okay — last one,” you voice out softly, eyes squinting because it was so difficult trying to see white hair from skin. gojo simply giggles at your struggle and you tsk, telling to stop moving! before you’re yelping and the shaver leaves your hand, the soft, plump lips of satoru moving against yours. behind you, there’s a plop! of water, and gojo just laughs when he sees the shaver lodged into the toilet. “ah. well, let’s use yours.” and your mouth twists, “no! i use that to shave…” you trail off and you swear you can hear gojo’s grin and the insult of pervert on your lips. “well! all the more to use it!” ✶

. . . whose vision from the start is slowly turning true. the jujutsu world is in the good hands of his students that he’s able to spend time with you and the (unborn) baby more. he smiles more freely now that he works less missions, but still as cheeky and playful as ever, squishing your cheeks and moving them around as he plants kisses on them. he also shows his feelings more, not afraid to bury his face in your neck and ask for head rubs or tell you he might be thinking about suguru a little too much; the first time satoru put his head to your swelling belly and heard the kid kick he teared up right away, baby talking to the baby bump like the sap he is.

. . . who at first hated his family name because it was only ever associated with his powerful father and then him, with both of his renowned techniques, how it pointed straight to him being the strongest and a cog in the machine to overwork. but now, gojo rather likes it, referring to you as “my wife” and “mrs. gojo” more times than necessary. you gave him his surname meaning by saying your vows and slipping his (rather expensive) ring on your fourth finger. you gave the family name a sense of warmth and homeliness whenever he’d come home to you humming a tune from high school and cooking up some dinner. you gave ‘gojo’ a worth that means more than just the six eyes and limitless — that it’d mean that gojo was the penthouse in some far off tokyo district coupled with you and the baby growing in you.

. . . who when first handed his baby girl, cried full on tears in the hospital, both arms wrapped so snugly around his baby because he was afraid he was going to hurt her or drop her in some way. gojo is generally pretty large in stature that he makes your baby girl look so small that it’s endearing. your cheeks hurt from smiling so much at them, not having the energy to capture the moment since you just quite literally delivered. but satoru much rather have his girls in the picture, handing the baby back to you before he reveals his phone to snap a picture.

“w-would ya look at her?” satoru coos, rocking and bouncing his body gently to ease your baby back into slumber. there’s an ugly show of a mess on his face — snot falling everywhere and tear stains lining his cheeks. but there’s one final thing that has gojo choking up all over again; the baby is curious and feels up his hand, your husband letting a finger out before she curls her small fist around his finger. “oh my god.” it’s cute seeing gojo so distraught as tears spring to his eyes again and he can’t even form words. it makes the baby laugh and he sobers up a little, sniffing and raising a brow. “love seeing your papa cry, huh?” and the baby sputters again and giggles and satoru swears he ascends to heaven and mutters a promise more to himself than your darling girl. “i’ll protect that little smile for as long as i live, okay?” ✶

. . . who is entirely enamoured with his baby girl, carrying her a little too much when she should be in the crib, singing her little songs or pointing out the colours of the sky in the nursery. you watch the scenes like a proud wife and mother, still not used to the beautiful scenes and childlike decorations of the room — only because satoru would not let you in after learning why ellie from up couldn’t conceive even if the paint now was safe. but you don’t have the heart to turn away your husband when this is what you get out of it, reminiscent of when gojo had playfully done to tsumiki and megumi before (“the scenery is beautiful today, gojo-san!” vs. “i already know what colours are, dumbass.”). 

. . . who only asks you to rest while he takes on most of the diaper-changing and feeding duties. you weren’t even that old to begin with, but it seemed like just like you were pregnant, satoru found it offensive that you’d think of even lifting a finger. you let him, for a while, until you find out he’s putting on the diaper wrongly and putting a little too much formula in the bottle, but you simply pat his cheek when he tears again. by god, he doesn’t want to mess this up, he doesn’t want to mess you up, he doesn’t want to mess her up, but you show him with your hands wrapped around his. one, two, three, and a half cups into the bottle; wrap around her right, then her left and secure it with the provided adhesive.

“satoru, baby,” you sigh, going on your tippy toes to kiss away the tears spilling from his cheeks, “you’re not a bad dad because you didn’t know how to make her food or change her diaper.” your fingers are as light as dewdrops, always in awe of his flawless skin and looks, and now, in awe of his consideration and love of your baby girl. “but—” you put up a finger, “no buts— remember? we promised each other not to be sorry if we can’t help it. you are human, my love.” gojo heaves a shaky sigh and swallows away the sobs, nodding against your hand as he covers it and leans into your touch. “i am human,” and a little later after quelling the baby’s cries in bed, “thank you.” ✶

. . . who, when she’s old enough, takes her on flying mishaps, hands tucked under her arm pits to guide her through the house in exaggerated flight. it feels like dad is superman, the sofa, high chair, even mama is all too far away from her and she’s onto her next exciting adventure. the bubbly giggles from your darling girl is the only sound that matters to satoru, alongside your laughter as you watch the two in play while dinner simmer besides you. higher! higher! she asks when she can speak and he does just that with his imposing height, but gojo’s tallness never intimidates his baby girl; no, not when gojo satoru is her hero and you, her solace.

. . . who gives nothing but a multitude of praises when his girl is leaning more into the artistic side, asking for colour pencils and crayons and paint to explore her creativity that with each drawing she shows him, he gasps, falls to the floor, and cries out how it should belong in a museum! gojo is doing the most — hands on his chin and pointing to various parts of the drawing and discussing the “meaning” behind it when all your girl wanted to do was draw the three of you as a happy family. he’s buying the frame, making a plaque for the artwork to be hung; when he’s making copies of the artwork to keep in a folder, he’s crying his eyes out (“she just wanted to draw us, us! as a family!” you giggle, “yes, satoru, that’s what we are.”)

“girlssss! i’m home!” satoru grins when your baby runs up to him, swooping her up before she can crash into his legs and twirls her around. “papa! look at what i drew today!” you’re emerging after cleaning up her very passionate creative space after she swore on finishing it before your husband came back, smiling when she bounces on her heels. “woooow!” he clutches his heart, one knee and then the other before he croaks out “ooouhhhh! why isn’t this masterpiece in a museum yet?! it’s a crime!” if you were in high school, the gojo then would definitely barf at how cheesy he was being at the moment, “very compelling use of colour, here, miss gojo. hmm, yes, yes, i see how you used multiple colours for the sun — very effective in showing the many colours of the sunset!” you’re cheesing so hard at the display because he does this every. time. and it never fails to make her yell in excitement, running over to you as she gives you a big fat kiss on your cheeks, “mama helped me!” a raise of the eyebrow before you finally get your well-awaited kiss to your lips, “i’m sure she did, honey.” ✩

. . .who teaches her the basic things, not shying away from the harsh realities of the world and jujutsu society. he tells her about boys who make fun of girls and think it’s acceptable, or teachers that would only like the strong boys to carry the chairs to the centre of the classroom. he thinks that if he’s going to do this parenting shit, he’s going to do it right, not the way his parents did it, not the way the higher-ups “looked” over young sorcerers. he covers self-defense, verbal comebacks as well as a rejected raise of her hand to threaten a punch (you were the one to stop him from teaching her that — you could only thank it wasn’t a middle finger instead), praising and rewarding her with candy and blown raspberries into her skin.

. . . who teaches her mama is as important as he is, but your darling girl already knows the value of her mother who holds her tight when she has a nightmare, or the airplane on mama’s airline that always holds delicious food. she knows how much her mother loves her when you’re sharing a smile with her at the dinner table as satoru chokes again on his food, and when you pat her to sleep while telling the story of how you and gojo met. that’s why she was the one to suggest that they both bake you a cake for your birthday — with her as the head chef and satoru as her sous chef. 

“it has to be perfect, papa! no more burning the pancakes in the morning or putting too much sugar.” gojo stifles a laugh at that; it seems that his baby girl had heard the many trivial mishaps that had happened in the kitchen, snapping out of his daze when his daughter lands a light slap on his cheek. “pay attention!” satoru fully laughs now, okay, okay! he says and they read through the recipe together — a family recipe passed down to you — and they try their best. the flour is a little messy, the sugar is a tad too much and satoru thinks he may have preheated the oven too high a heat, but then there’s the familiar smell of the vanilla extract and the rise of the cake in the tin. your baby cheers, collapsing into gojo’s arms in front of the oven and together on the floor, they watch the cake ascend.

“careful, baby, it’s hot.” gojo brings her away when the cake is finally done, dramatically smelling and letting out a sigh at it, “it smells really good, ain’t it?” she purses her lips and points to herself, “all due to me!” and gojo hums in agreement. he’s content to let his baby girl take all the credit when she’s looking as adorable like that, finding that her confidence is looking more and more like his while your kindness shows when she’s propped up on the kitchen island and saying, “but papa was the one who helped me pour everything! so maybe it’s because of both me and papa.”

the “thank you” that satoru whispers into his girl’s temple is a whisper, and the house falls into a comfortable, more calm atmosphere as they work on the icing together. it’s clear that all her excitement has caught up to her and she’s now feeling a little sleepy in between, only shooting up when gojo’s announced the icing’s all mixed properly. “happy . . birthday . . mama,” she draws out in the air with satoru’s finger clutched between her fist, a clear layout in her young mind that he had no choice but to listen (he would always listen), lathering first the white base icing before the pressuring job comes and his darling girl is looking at him with narrowed eyes, “don’t mess it up, papa!”

“i won’t—” and before gojo can start on the lettering, you’re depositing the house keys into the bowl your husband gifted you in high school, letting out a chuckle at the scene before you: the sorcerer’s face caked in white, vanilla extract and broken egg shells on the island and in the middle of it, your husband and your daughter looking like deer caught in headlights.

“hi, mama,” they say in unison and your grin only widens. you could hardly be mad when this doesn’t happen often, already knowing the occasion, but they seemed to be a little bummed out from being found out so you only hope your hug can make it up. your baby girl goes first: she squeals when she’s scooped into your arms, smile so bright it could mirror any angel in heaven. while she still pouts, she’s more than happy to wish you a happy birthday. “thank you, baby. was baking with papa fun?”

she nods so hard her whole body moves in your arms, “papa is very bad at measuring stuff, though.”

you burst out laughing while your husband falls into a greater pout than your daughter did, brushing off the flour from his arms and taking the both of you into his embrace, “she’s so mean to me, sweets.”

“i’m not, just telling the truth. mama, i was the head chef, so i get to say what he’s bad at.” gojo’s pout worsens and you coo, pulling him closer.

“yes, but daddy did help with everything, didn’t he?” you whisper, brushing away the strands that fall over her face. you’ve never really taken the time to take in everything: her white hair, those blue eyes that are a little darker, the lines at the side of her smile that look like yours. instinctively, your forehead rests against hers and upon feeling her nod, you think that this is all you need. “thank you, darling.” and your girl grins again when she feels your peck on her forehead. gojo only can look at his girls with a content smile, pout stretching into his face while his hand never stops caressing your back. “can daddy have a kiss too?”

that night when she’s put to sleep after much protest (you both give in and end up watching your favourite movie together as a present), you’re drawing circles on gojo’s bare chest which also has grown a little bit of hair. his lips upon your hair feels like a divine blessing; he speaks.

“happy birthday again, baby,” a kiss, “only if you came home a liiittle later, though.”

you laugh softly, “actually, i sort of heard your shenanigans when i was standing outside the front door.” satoru jerks from the comfortable position, prompting your head to hit the headboard in a loud ‘thud’.

“oops sorry, baby— but what?!”

you shake your head, roll your eyes, pull him back to tuck yourself under his chin, “you’re so damn dramatic. i just didn’t want to interrupt the both of you. you mean a lot to her, you know.”

gojo sighs, moving away a bit for your head to tilt up and his heart still pulls and tugs like so many years ago. if he recalls correctly, it’s just exactly like this that you shared your first kiss together, the line between friends and lovers blurring so much that all it took was your eyes staring into his to make him notice he never had infinity on around you.

“you made me forget what i was gonna say,” satoru mumbles, a laugh cutting through his features when you smile sheepishly. he copies your outburst, “you’re so damn beautiful.”

“and you mean a lot to her, too. we mean a lot to her — it’s the least we can do when you’ve brought such a beautiful baby into the world,” gojo mutters — it’s late and he’s slurring his words from the fatigue. his eyes glow under the night light and he holds on to you just a little tighter, “to give her a normal life.”

his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and there’s the sheen of his tears again. “we will succeed, don’t you worry.” you silence his doubts with a kiss, “you’re doing a great job of a father, ‘toru. i will keep reminding you until my voice turns hoarse and i can’t speak.”

normally, he’d tease you but all it does is make the tears full spill over; but they’re happy this time. satoru only lets you catch his lips in a deep kiss, quietening his sobs as your hands fumble at his undercut and his face. you can hear the faint “thank you”’s he mumbles and you’re also close to crying, pulling away to admire him — god, you loved him so much you feel like you could collapse. he loved you so much he would do it all over again if it meant having you in every life.

“thank you for having me. thank you for loving me, baby,” satoru whispers, wiping at your tears as did you and he laughs, “dunno why we’re cryin’. s’pposed to be a happy moment.”

you huff (of course, he’d say something funny now), but that’s just one of many things you love about him. all you do is hold him closer that night and mutter a prayer — to virgin, to buddha, to anyone who would listen.

it might get difficult along the way: one of you may need to take on more missions, your baby will be growing up and heading to school. there will be difficult talks, puberty, tantrums, none of you were truly ready. and yet, despite it all, you’d still have your satoru, the one who made tsumiki and megumi into what they are today. despite it all, you’d still have each other and your darling girl, your family of gojo’s whose definition changed from suffocating to belonging. despite it all, as long as galaxies are created and supernovas happening and the planets revolve around the sun, it’d take light years for your love to diminish even one speck.

your love for each other could surpass the cosmos — that in itself is enough.

part two

[thedensworld]

Your Best Man | J.Ww

Pairing: Wonwoo x reader

Genre: fluff, humor, established relationship

Summary: Wonwoo has tried his best to become the best man you've ever met. At the end, he is the best man.

Author note: let's have a break from angsty suffering story and have some fluffywonu!

Wonwoo loves you. He loves you with all of his heart. Honestly, he loves you with all of his life. In conclusion he loves you very much. Wonwoo sat there, an empty soju glass in hand, his words flowing like the river of affection he held for you. Mingyu, realizing his friend had reached the brink of tipsiness, halted the soju parade, albeit reluctantly, knowing Wonwoo was just getting started.

"Mingyu, remember when I fell head over heels for her at first sight?" Wonwoo's tone was earnest, albeit slightly slurred, as he delved into his favorite topic, you.

Mingyu nodded, taking a break from his spicy budae jiggae to indulge Wonwoo's sentimental journey.

"She was stunning," Wonwoo continued, his gaze drifting upwards as if searching for you among the stars. "I mean, she's always been gorgeous, but back then? Wow. Even Cupid would've been jealous of my aim that day."

He chuckled, the warmth of nostalgia enveloping him as he recalled the moment fate intervened, intertwining your destinies.

"In hindsight, it's like the universe had a checklist and decided, 'Yep, these two are meant to be.' And who am I to argue with the universe, right?"

Wonwoo's laughter filled the air, a testament to the joy you brought him, even in the haze of alcohol and spicy food.

So there they sat, one lost in love and the other in a spicy stew, united in their admiration for the wonder that was you. And as Wonwoo raised his glass in a tipsy salute to your magnificence, Mingyu couldn't help but toast silently to the cosmic comedy that brought you all together. Cheers to love, laughter, and the occasional soju-fueled confession.

Years ago, Wonwoo became acquainted with you through a movie he watched with Vernon. You were a rising rookie actor at the time. Fate, however, had a more direct introduction in store for him. It happened one evening by the Han River, where Wonwoo sought solace in the night air and a bowl of ramyeon, alone with his thoughts.

The tranquility was shattered by the intrusive click of a camera shutter, followed by a beam of flashlight. Initially annoyed by the presence of paparazzi, Wonwoo's irritation quickly turned to anger as he contemplated the invasion of privacy suffered by countless others in the industry.

His resolve to confront the paparazzi was cut short by a sudden thud and a groan. Rushing to the source of the commotion, Wonwoo discovered the paparazzi lying on the ground while another figure stood nearby, inspecting the camera.

"I know this is your job, but this is not right," Other person admonished, voice firm with conviction. "You've invaded someone's privacy and caused them untold discomfort. Can you even sleep at night knowing what you do?"

As the other person, you, retrieved the memory card, your eyes met Wonwoo's. In that moment of shared understanding, Wonwoo offered a thumbs-up in appreciation of your intervention, sparking a conversation between the two of you.

You explained that you recognized the paparazzi, having caught them fabricating rumors within the industry. Wonwoo nodded in solidarity, acknowledging his own frustration with such unethical practices.

"I was about to take action myself," Wonwoo admitted, shaking his head. "I'm relieved to know I'm not the only one who feels this way."

And so, amidst the backdrop of the Han River, a bond formed between two strangers united by their disdain for injustice and their shared desire to protect the integrity of others. It was a chance encounter that would leave a lasting impression on both Wonwoo and you, shaping the course of their future interactions.

A conversation led to another, as late-night discussions evolved into playful banter and eventually escalated into vulnerable talks. What began as strangers connecting gradually blossomed into friendship, and then something more profound – love. Wonwoo cherished every step of the journey with you, never once regretting the decision to let you into his life. With you by his side, life seemed brighter, the shadows dissipating whenever you were together, and he couldn't shake the feeling that you were the one sent by a higher power to fill the void within him.

"Do you want to spend the rest of your life with me?" Wonwoo's question hung in the air, heavy with anticipation and hope. When you said yes, he made a silent vow to himself to be the best man you'd ever known. He listened to your concerns, ensured you never felt pressured, and held you in the highest regard, becoming your staunchest supporter whenever your movies or dramas premiered.

Of course, it wasn't all smooth sailing. Like any couple, Wonwoo and you faced their fair share of ups and downs. But each challenge served as a lesson, strengthening their bond and shaping them into better individuals for each other. If Wonwoo were to recount their biggest argument, it would likely be the time he recommended you to a director he knew.

Wonwoo happened to know a veteran noir movie director, a figure you admired deeply for his work. During a discussion between Wonwoo and the director at a premiere event, your name came up, sparking a conversation that would ultimately change the course of events.

"Your girlfriend is Ji Y/n, right? Her acting was exceptional in the last movie," the director remarked, his interest piqued.

"She's a huge fan of yours," Wonwoo replied. "I know it might be unconventional, but I was hoping you could consider casting her in your next project. It would mean a lot to her."

To Wonwoo's surprise, the director revealed that he was indeed seeking an actress for his upcoming movie and would be delighted if you were interested in joining the cast.

Initially, the news seemed like a dream come true. However, Wonwoo's excitement turned to concern when he received a series of missed calls from you while he was away on a business trip. Upon calling you back, he was met with the sound of your sobbing, instantly stirring worry within him.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

"I never asked for your help with my career," you replied, your tone heavy with frustration.

Wonwoo's brow furrowed as you mentioned the director's name, realizing he had unwittingly stepped into a sensitive issue.

"I never asked you to secure a role for me in his movie, so why does everyone think I got it through a connection?" you inquired him, your voice trembling with emotion.

Wonwoo sighed, acknowledging his mistake. "I was talking to him that night, and he mentioned you—"

"He talked behind my back saying you begged him to put me into the cast."

"I never asked for that!" you continued, your frustration evident.

"I know," Wonwoo conceded, regret weighing heavy on his shoulders. "He didn't say what you think he did."

Feeling hurt and misunderstood, you ended the call abruptly, leaving Wonwoo with a sinking feeling in his chest. Acting swiftly, he instructed his manager to drive him to your place, determined to resolve the misunderstanding before it escalated further.

Wonwoo entered your apartment well past midnight, his fatigue from a long day's schedule overshadowed by the weight of guilt gnawing at him. Upon seeing you seated on the couch, head bowed in distress, he felt a pang of remorse pierce through him.

"What did he say to you?" Wonwoo inquired gently, his voice laden with concern as he approached you.

"It doesn't matter what he said," you replied, your tone laced with frustration. "What matters is that you overstepped by asking him to cast me in his movie! I want to build my career on my own terms, and I want people to recognize that."

Wonwoo knelt in front of you, seeking to meet your gaze. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his remorse evident. "I just thought—since you admire his work—it would be a good opportunity. I didn't anticipate this outcome."

A heavy silence hung between you before you confessed the truth. "I walked away from the role midway through filming. I couldn't bear to work with someone who talk trash their talent like that."

Wonwoo nodded understandingly, pulling you into a comforting embrace. "I understand," he whispered, his voice a soothing balm to your troubled thoughts. "You did what felt right for you."

As you feared, rumors began to circulate in the weeks following the announcement of your departure from the movie. Speculations about your connections within the industry surfaced, casting a shadow over your hard-earned reputation. Yet through it all, Wonwoo stood by your side, offering unwavering support and reassurance.

He knew the truth, and that was enough for him. Together, you weathered the storm of gossip, emerging stronger and more united than ever before. For Wonwoo, there was no greater reward than seeing you stand firm in your convictions, unyielding in the face of adversity. And as long as you had each other, no amount of speculation could tarnish the bond you shared.

Years later, you and Wonwoo went public with your marriage, and he was grateful for the overwhelmingly positive feedback you both received. The wedding was an intimate affair, attended only by close family and colleagues. For Wonwoo, it marked the culmination of his journey to become the best man you'd ever known, now leveled up to become the best husband himself.

He found joy in the simple moments of life, relishing in the comfort of sleeping and waking up beside you each day. To the surprise of his fellow members, who often referred to him as the prince by his fans, Wonwoo had embraced domesticity wholeheartedly. Learning to cook, clean, give massages, and take on any task that arose became second nature to him, especially during your pregnancy with your firstborn, Jeon Jihan.

Now, at five years old, Jihan possessed a strong will of his own, often refusing to hold hands with Wonwoo when being taken to daycare. Wonwoo couldn't help but wonder whose attitude Jihan had inherited—though deep down, he knew it was undoubtedly from you. Nevertheless, it didn't dampen Wonwoo's love for you and his son. He cherished every moment spent with his family, grateful for the love and happiness they brought into his life.

One day, while Wonwoo was away on tour and Jihan was just two years old, he heard from his fellow members that the women—referred to as "their girls"—had gathered at Seungcheol's wife's place. Concerned for your well-being, Wonwoo immediately called you to check in.

"Are you joining them?" he asked, his worry palpable over the phone line.

"Will you bring Jihan?" he added, mindful of your responsibilities as a parent.

"Of course, he can't take care of himself," came your sarcastic reply.

Wonwoo chuckled at your dry humor. "But didn't you say our car broke down yesterday?"

"I'll find a solution, don't worry about it, darling!" you reassured him.

However, after the concert, Wonwoo discovered from Seungcheol himself that you had ridden his bike to their place—with Jihan in tow. Not a word of this had come from you. Frustration and disbelief churned in Wonwoo's chest as he made a call to you.

"How could you ride a bike with our child being that young?" he demanded, his tone edged with concern.

"Jihan loves it!" you countered, sending a photo taken by another woman at a traffic light, showing Jihan smiling while securely attached to your front.

Wonwoo facepalmed with his hand, unable to believe what he was hearing. "You could have endangered both of you and Jihan. You're not allowed to ride my bike again!"

It wasn't that Wonwoo doubted your skill—you had been riding bikes for years, a shared passion that had drawn you both together. However, the idea of riding a bike with your child had never crossed his mind, nor did he ever imagine you would consider it. The incident led to his members labeling him as a "gangster husband," a nickname stemming from your unconventional lifestyle and characters in the movies.

"So what's the matter now, hyung? You said you're okay, you love her, you'll support her no matter what. Then what's with the change of heart?" Mingyu confronted drunken Wonwoo.

Wonwoo clumsily put down his glass, "You're not married, Mingyu. You won't understand my pain!" he declared, slurring his words as Mingyu rolled his eyes in amusement.

Without missing a beat, Mingyu dialed your number. "Hello, Y/n! Did you miss your husband already? He's being a pain in my ass tonight. Should I take him home?"

Wonwoo's eyes widened in panic as he realized what Mingyu was up to, but his drunken attempts to grab Mingyu's phone proved futile.

"Just the usual babbling about his undying love for you and some other nonsense. I'll be there in 20, okay? Bye!" Mingyu announced cheerfully before hanging up.

"No! I don't wanna go home! I don't wanna face her like this," Wonwoo protested dramatically, his words slurred as he tried to resist Mingyu's attempts to escort him home.

Mingyu sighed, shaking his head in exasperation. "This hyung..." he muttered, resigning himself to the task of dragging a stubborn and intoxicated Wonwoo back to the safety of your arms.

*

"Where's Jihan?" Wonwoo groaned, nursing his pounding head while seated at the dining table, his breakfast being served by you. The mere act of opening his eyes felt like a Herculean task.

You shrugged casually, "Someone woke him up last night, and he ended up staying up late. He's still asleep."

Wonwoo's brows furrowed, knowing full well that the culprit was none other than himself. Yet, he was surprised by your nonchalant reaction to Jihan's extended slumber. "He's not going to daycare today?"

You shook your head, taking a seat across from him. "I'm free today, except for my ballet class at 4. Your mom wants to see Jihan, so I'll be taking him to your parents' place before then."

The mention of your ballet class jogged Wonwoo's memory of his conversation with Mingyu the night before. "You're still taking ballet classes?"

You set down your utensils and fixed him with a steady gaze. "Yes," you confirmed firmly. "And Mingyu filled me in on your little chat last night."

Wonwoo grumbled, "I'll punch him later," before offering a weak smile in your direction.

"I've decided to take the role no matter what, darling. It'll be my first-ever romcom movie," you declared, determination shining in your eyes.

Wonwoo sighed deeply, his headache worsening at the thought. "That's the problem, babe. I'm just not ready for that!" he confessed, his tone tinged with a hint of panic.

"What are you not ready for?" you queried, raising an eyebrow as Wonwoo stretched his hands and gestured vaguely.

"All the lovey-dovey stuff you'll have to do in the movie! Kissing, hugging, and acting all smiley with other men—I'm just not prepared for that!" Wonwoo exclaimed, his expression a mix of concern and discomfort.

You scoffed, "I thought we were done talking about this. I asked for your opinion, remember? If you don't want me to take the role, I won't. But you said your opinion doesn't matter as long as I'm happy, and I'm more than happy to challenge myself with this role."

Wonwoo nodded solemnly. "I know, but that was before I found out about the intimate scenes like kissing and hugging!"

You nodded understandingly. "You're right. And besides, you're the only man who can kiss and hug me like that."

Wonwoo sighed, relenting slightly. "Just kiss me three more times every day, and I'll pretend like nothing happened," he bargained, a hint of resignation in his voice. After all, he is your best man, right?

[viennakarma]

After you

Fernando Alonso x reader

Summary: There's a life before becoming Fernando's sugar baby and there's a life after becoming his sugar baby.

Word count: 2.7k

Tags: Smut, female reader, +18, sex (p in v), unprotected sex, established relationship, sugar baby x sugar daddy, Dom!Nando, little breath play (choking), spanking, face slap, a bit of dirty talking, degradation, overuse of pet names (bc it's spanish duh!), big age gap (reader is early 20s, in college), everything implicitly consensual, not beta read

Note: i'd like to start by saying you nando fuckers were right and these 3 fernando media (see above) changed my life forever, thank you. gentle reminder that english is not my first language (so please bear any mistake), I'm also considering taking requests for F1 drabbles and oneshots, would anyone be interested?

Find me on Twitter!

As soon as you enter the flat, you take off your overcoat and leave it behind the door. You go to your room, but you stop when you see several gift boxes laying on the floor beside the bed, which you recognize the brands, Tiffany, La Perla, Chanel, among others. But you feel exhausted from college finals and you leave the boxes behind and head straight for the bathroom.

Eight months ago, when you lived in a tiny dorm on campus, working two shifts beyond university to pay for your studies, all these brands used to be a distant luxury you would never afford on your own.

But there was a life before becoming Fernando Alonso's sugar baby; and another one after all that.

Now you have a nice, comfortable, luxurious apartment close to campus, your university is fully paid for months in advance, and you don't have to use the dorm's communal bathroom. It sometimes feels like a dream and you think you're going to wake up back in that moment much earlier.

You fill the bathtub and take off your clothes, looking in the mirror, you see two hickey marks near your breasts. Fernando was mindful not to leave marks in visible places. You step into the tub and allow yourself to be enveloped by the scented salts and bubble soap. You rub yourself slowly, pushing away all the tiredness and stress of the entire day, using the shower gel that Fernando liked on you.

After scrubbing yourself down, you step out of the shower wrapped in a fluffy robe. You dry your hair with the dryer, and head back to the bedroom.

On top of the gifts there is a note that you missed before.

“To my girl, I know you worked really hard to do well on your finals. Enjoy your gifts. See you tonight, cariño. - Fernando"

You open Tiffany’s blue box first, it's the smallest one. Contains a pair of star-shaped diamond earrings, and a silver necklace with a matching pendant. You smile when you realize that it's been eight months and he already knows your taste for clothes and accessories. The second box you open is a Coco de Mer, a lingerie brand. With two pairs of lingerie inside, both in lace, one black, with stockings and garter belt and the other red, transparent with ribbons that cross the abdomen.

Getting out of bed, you pull on the black one, adjust the stocking on the garter belt and hang the robe in the bathroom again, staring at your reflection in the mirror, barely registering the messy young misfit you were just months ago.

The other boxes mostly contain clothes and accessories. Pants, skirts, dresses, handbags, wallets and backpacks. After taking a look at everything, you take the pieces to the closet and leave them on the chair to arrange later.

Then you hear the sound of the front door opening and you know it's Fernando. You lay down on the bed and wait for him. Lying on your stomach with your butt in the air, you look at Fernando when he enters. He's not wearing his team shirt, he's just wearing a white shirt and denim pants. He stares at your body, but your eyes settle on a box in his hand, he puts the box, his phone and wallet on the bedside table. He smiles, moving closer and bending over to leave a gentle bite on your ass. His masculine scent envelops you and you feel the urge to rip his clothes off and push him on the bed, and ride his cock until the sun comes up tomorrow.

“Hi, bebé,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss your temple, “How were the exams?” he asks as he sits on the king size bed, his back against the headboard. He pats his own thigh, and you quickly crawl up, onto his lap sitting facing him. You hope he feels your underwear wet with anticipation.

“Thermodynamics was easy, but Quantum Physics, not so much,” you say, as he opens the box that you know as one of Belgian chocolates, your favorite.

“You’ve studied so hard for both, so I think you'll do well,” he says, pulling out a chocolate with almonds from the box. With his other hand, he grips your hip.

He brings the chocolate up to your mouth and you take a bite, wiggling in his lap as the chocolate melts in your mouth.

“You did so well on your test last week,” he compliments, and his gentle tone turns you on even more. You feel his fingers making way inside the lace of your panties and you hold on to his shoulders, keeping your balance and granting more access to you.

He takes another chocolate from the box and takes a bite of it as his fingers find your pussy. Fernando rubs his index and middle fingers, spreading your wetness. You melt into his arms and place your hand on the back of his neck. He gives you the second piece of chocolate at the same time as his fingers penetrate you. You're so wet, his fingers slide easily inside, massaging your pussy calmly, oh so calmly that you roll your hips into his fingers, trying to make him go faster.

“Quiet, princesa,” he commands, and you stop the hip movement. He shoves the fingers that were holding the chocolate into your mouth, and you suck hard until his fingers are clean.

His other hand, the one inside your panties, you feel keeping the maddening slow pace, completely ignoring the need for relief in your clit. You slide a hand down your belly to bring it to your clit, but he takes your hand away and cups your chin, a possessive look in his brown-almost-green eyes.

“Did I say you could touch yourself?" he asks brusquely, and you just stare at him. “Eh? Did I?”

“No,” you reply huskily, knowing he can feel you getting even wetter at his firm tone. He slaps your cheek, and your pussy throbs around his fingers, you can see in his eyes that he feels it. And he absolutely loves it.

“No, what?” he says, a smug smirk on his face.

“No, sir.” you say and he strokes the cheek he slapped. Fernando takes your chin and pulls your lips to his. He kisses you obscenely, with lips and tongue and his face inching up against yours.

“I know your week has been pretty stressful, then behave yourself so you can get your reward, okay?” he says in a gentle tone, finally picking up the speed of his fingers and pushing the palm of his hand against your swollen clit. You whimper, holding a moan in your throat and the urge to move your hips to keep pace with him and come faster, but you hold back.

Then Fernando's phone rings, interrupting the two of you. He lets the phone ring, and you groan when his other hand grips your hip tightly, squeezing your ass. The phone stops ringing, but then it rings again.

“No, Nando, please… Don't answer it, Papi” you whimper, already feeling his fingers stop stimulating you. He grabs your hips and places you to the side, back on the bed.

“So needy, bebé,” he mutters, biting softly on your chin before getting up, “I need to pick this call, babygirl. Won’t be long, yeah?” He grumbles, taking the phone from the nightstand. you watch as Fernando answers, muttering “Alonso speaking,” as he leaves the room.

Frustrated, you lie back on the mattress and stare at the ceiling, knowing he's probably going to take longer than he said he would. He always took long calls about his team, or his car, or whatever. It's almost involuntary as your hands slide down your abdomen and you rub your thighs together to get some friction. With your hands, you gently pinch your nipples through the lace of your bra, feeling a hypersensitive moan escape your lips. You slide your hands and press your clit over the wet panties, just looking for some relief while he doesn’t come back.

The need for release is stronger than you are as you slide your hand inside your panties, circling your clit with pressure, gasping.

At that moment, Fernando re-enters the room, and you quickly remove your hand. But the furious look on his face tells you he already caught you red handed. Heart racing, you watch as he clicks his tongue in a reproving gesture. He walks into the closet and returns with a pair of leather cuffs.

“I thought I made myself clear…” he murmurs, yanking hard on your wrists to get you to your feet, “You only touch yourself with my permission.”

You swallow hard when he cups your face and then slaps you across the face. You bite your bottom lip, smiling. He takes your wrists and secures them with the restraints, behind your back. Fernando slaps you again, and you feel the wetness pool in your panties.

“You love it, don't you?” He smirked with another slap. “Being treated like the slut you are. My slut. Knees on the floor,” he commands, his tone doesn't leave space for anything other than obedience.

His firm touch on the back of your neck compels you down until your knees meet the floor. You feel your mouth water as he starts struggling with his own belt, undoing the buttons on his pants just enough to pull his cock out. You immediately wet your lips and open your mouth, expecting to feel him on your tongue.

He shoves his cock into your mouth all at once, almost reaching your throat, and you have to control your gagging, eyes immediately watering.

“Open wide, babygirl” he gasps, taking control of slowly sliding into your mouth. He massages your face, as if to relax your jaw further. “Yes, just like that” he moans softly as he touches your throat.

He holds your head, keeping you still as the only movement is in  his hips, his cock fucking your mouth. As you adjust to the volume of him moving in and out of your mouth, he picks up speed and you feel saliva wetting his entire length and running down the side of your mouth, dripping to your chin.

“Want me to fuck you, huh?” he asks but doesn't release you from his cock so you're able to answer. “Want to cum, bebé?”

He doesn’t let you go, nor does he take his cock out of your mouth. So you just hum around him, the vibration of your voice making him let out a groan.

“I don't know…” He pretends to think a little, his hips stuttering. “You disobeyed me, didn't you? I don't think you've earned your reward yet.”

He pulls his cock away from your mouth, and you watch a trail of saliva break from the distance. You close your mouth, taking the opportunity to relax your jaw.

“¿Cuál es tu color? (what's your color?)” he asks, his voice going immediately tender, looking down on you.

“Verde. (green)”

“Up you go” Fernando points to the bed as he removes the belt from the cases of his pants, and you quickly get to your feet and throw yourself face down on the mattress, your arms still pinned behind you. “On all fours” He commands and you obey, the top of your head pressed into the pillow and your ass in the air.

You feel his fingers gently rub up and down on your hips, and then he finally removes your panties. Not an instant later, you feel the belt snap on your ass, stinging.

“What did you do wrong, princesa?” he asks, then hits you with the belt once again, making you shiver.

“I touched myrself without-” you cut yourself off with a mewl when you feel the crackle of the burning leather belt again, “-Without your-” Two consecutive hits make you whimper against the pillow, but you keep going, because you know that if you stop, he will start your punishment again, “-Without your permission" you complete, panting loudly. He hits you three more times and you feel like you could come with just one touch on your clit.

“Without your permission, who?” And two more cracks of the leather against your asscheeks. The frustration of wanting to come is so great that you feel your abdomen trembling.

“Without your permission, sir!” you almost scream, desperate. So thirsty for his touch you know you’re dripping with desire and ruining the sheets.

“I don't know…” He says, as if he's thinking out loud as his hands caress your buttocks, “Do you think you deserve to come?"

“Yes please! Nando please! I want it so bad, papi…” you don't feel ashamed to beg, when your body so badly needs relief, something only he can give you.

You feel him move behind you, and a second later, his cock fills you in one movement, making you scream his name into the pillow.

“Oh, always perfect for me…” He groans, pulling out only to slam back in again. His hands secure the restraint on your wrists, your hands manage to touch his forearm and you sink your nails into his skin for balance.

Your eyes roll in your head, pleasure consuming you like flames as his hips keep pounding into you, and you feel grateful for his demanding exercises routine from motorsports, because it makes his stamina last so long. You feel hypersensitive, like you can feel the friction in every molecule in your body, the pleasure in your pussy and he just keeps going, Fernando’s groaning louder by the second.

You feel when the orgasm approaches, that tingling in your body and your pussy contracting desperately. But then he stops, withdrawing his cock. You whimper in desperation, the orgasm slipping away again.

“Fernando, please! Please, I need you…” you scream as he plunges into you, so deep he takes your breath away for an instant. One of his hands grips your hips and the other travels up your spine until it closes around the back of your neck.

Then he circles his hand around your neck and pulls you up until you're on your knees, your hips pressed against his as he thrusts harder, making your tits bounce with the movement. The only thing separating his chest from your back is the grip on your wrists between your bodies.

“Please, Nando! I’m so close- can- can I cum?”

“Go on, you can cum. I want to feel it,” he orders, squeezing your throat, obstructing your breathing slightly. It’s his accented voice that pushes you off the cliff, the orgasm finally seizing you so hard you see stars in your vision, shivering as he holds you firmly up.

Your orgasm soon makes him come too, his groan in your ear as his hips push against you, slowing down as he fills you up.

When Fernando lets go of your neck, you fall limp on the bed, face first against the pillows. You feel his fingers release you from the restraints, and your arms fall to your sides. Fernando holds your wrists, massaging lightly. He kisses your shoulder softly and you smile lazily, all worn out, the way he likes you the most.

“Are you ok, princesa?” you hear him as you close your eyes.

“Yes, cariño. Never been better.” You murmur.

You keep your eyes closed as he wipes between your legs, and you feel as he rubs the soothing ointment onto your buttocks, then he uses a makeup wiper to clean your face. Fernando considers aftercare as important as sex, and you can't deny that you love the part of being lovingly pampered by him right after being fucked senseless.

Finally, he turns off the lights, pulls back the covers and lies beside you, your naked body being fully embraced by him. You get goosebumps when he nuzzles your neck, his beard tickling and making you giggle.

“I missed you a lot, mi cielo” He mutters against your skin.

“I missed you too, Nando. I loved seeing you so happy with that podium,” you say, pulling his hand up and kissing his knuckles.

“Thank you, maybe next time you should go cheer for me,” he kisses your collarbone.

“I’ll think about it, yeah?” you whisper, running your fingers through his hair, “maybe after finals.”

“I'm sure you'll get high scores on your tests, bebé” he whispers, and you feel a rush of joy at making him proud.

[politemenacephd]

The Surrogate (Part One)

Miguel O'Hara X Peter B. Parker X GN!Reader (+18)

Part two Series Content: Planned pregnancy, Breeding kink, PinV sex, Oral sex, Threesome, Web knotting, Aftercare, Possible Angst/fluff.

Miguel and Peter want a third child, and apparently they've run out of options. That is, except for you, their friend and colleague. They offer to cover everything, and the pay is life-changing. There's just one catch: they went to concieve naturally.

notes: i am working on arachnophilia, shits jst kinda rough, but i started this a while ago, enjoy x

‘You want what?!’

You almost spat out your drink in shock, unsure if you’d really heard what you’d just heard correctly. It was a miracle you didn’t accidentally spit alcohol into your companions faces.

You were sat in a booth at the bar all the spiders went to in Nueva York when off duty. It was pristine and white like almost everything else in this world, with floating tables and neon lights adorning the walls in various space themed shapes.

You’d been here a couple times before yourself, but tonight was different.

You’d been brought here by two of your friends from the Spider Society; Peter, one of the older ones, and Miguel, the head of the entire institute and Peter’s very open partner. They’d been incredibly cryptic about why they’d wanted to meet, with Peter simply insisting over and over that it was important, that they needed you to hear them out, and though you’d rolled your eyes a bit as he followed you around the HQ like a lost dog you’d eventually relented to his pleading.

You were now very aware of why they’d been so cryptic.

As you wiped away the small dribble of drink left sliding down your chin, Miguel and Peter continued to watch you in silence. Miguel was fixed with his usual sombre expression while Peter beamed at his side, hands clasped on the table in an inviting, open manner. It was the strangest contrast.

‘Just, think about it!’ Peter said. ‘That’s all we’re asking!’

‘No, no—wait, so I heard correctly?’ you stammered. Peter and Miguel shot each other a look before turning back to you in unison. After some nudging from Peter, Miguel forced a similar patient smile onto his face.

‘Yes. You, heard correctly’ he said. You gabbed at them both.

‘I—So, you, want me to be your surrogate?’ you repeated dumbly. The two men nodded.

‘W…. why?’ you asked, your voice audibly wheezing as you darted between the two. The two men just glanced at each other. They seemed almost dumbfounded that you would ask such a question, like they hadn’t anticipated your immediate acceptance.

‘Well, we… We love the girls, so much, and—we just, we want another one’ Peter said. ‘It’s all we talk about at home! Every night, how May and Gabi deserve a sibling, and—recently they started talking about it too, and—we can’t tell them no!’

‘But, I mean—sure, that’s great, but Why me? Why are you coming straight to me? Have you guys ruled out adoption, or… I mean I’m just, surprised? Or, confused? Definitely confused’ you replied slowly.

‘Ah, no, we haven’t… ruled it out, per say’ Peter said with a shrug. ‘Just—it’s, hard to work out adoption when uh—’

‘Peter isn’t from this universe’ Miguel bluntly interrupted. You could hear the slight sadness in his voice. ‘And—with my genetics, and my background, it—the government would never allow it.’

‘Oh… Oh, I see. But, why me then?’ you stammered. You were on good terms with the two men, that was true enough, but you hadn’t thought you were this close. It was so out of left field as well.

‘We—ran an analysis on whose genetics would be best suited for the role’ Miguel muttered. You noticed that he looked embarrassed to be admitting this. ‘Because of what happened to me, how my DNA was spliced, it’s tricky. I’m not genetically compatible with a lot of people. You were, one of five candidates, and we believed you were the best.’

You couldn’t help but wonder who the other candidates were, but more so you were stuck on the idea of needing to be genetically compatible. You knew Miguel was unusual, but, that unusual?

‘So, you came to me first, huh?’ you asked, lightly stirring your drink.

‘Yes!’ Peter hissed. He was leaning in over his lap with his fists tucked to his chest, his eyes wide and desperate. ‘Yes! Because we trust you!’

You couldn’t help but smile at his sweet insistence. ‘Hey, guys, I like you too, but—’

‘We’ll compensate you’ Peter insisted. ‘We will! Miguel will pay WHATEVER you want. The entire time we’ll pay for housing, food, medical care. You will be absolutely safe. And, along with that, we’ll give you a full payment after the babies born as thanks! We’ll—’

‘Hey, hey, woah!’ You raised your hands to try and slow the man down as he began physically crawling over the table in his excitement. Miguel grunted and silently grabbed his collar, dragging him back to his seat. Peter squirmed a little in his partner’s tight grip. ‘I’m just explaining, I—’

‘Look, that—that’s all amazing. I just—’ You were silenced as Peter reached over once more to slap down a cheque on the table. You darted your eyes at the two men before lifting it up.

‘Holy…. Shit’ you hissed.

It was a lot. A LOT of money. Not so much as to be impossible or unreasonable, but enough to make your stomach drop.

‘I—you’d, give me this?’ you stammered.

‘Yes! For your labour and time’ Peter said. ‘Fair compensation.’

You paused. This amount of money was enough to make a serious, permanent difference in your life. You’d told yourself you could cope, that you could just put up with the status quo, but this changed everything. And what, all you had to do was carry their baby for nine months?

Peter leaned closer. ‘Are you, just not comfortable with pregnancy, or—’

‘No’ you said, eyes still fixed on the cheque. ‘No, it’s—fine, just… Are we, doing this like, casually?’

‘I’m willing to pay for us to both have lawyers. You can choose yours, so you’re comfortable, just bill me ahead of time for the cost. We’ll draft up contracts to be sure no boundaries are broken, and to ensure you have a legal right to what we say we owe you, and of course with clauses to protect your personal autonomy’ Miguel explained. Man, when he talked business he was so commanding, you thought.

‘Huh. Okay. I mean… I, I guess I, would be fine with that’ you muttered back.

‘I understand this would be a large undertaking’ Miguel said, his body leaning a little closer. You watched with wide and curious eyes as his arm came down over the table. You were fixated on the bulge of his bicep, nearly the size of your head now bursting from the seam of his slim fit shirt. It made you a little dizzy, as did the thick, dark hair across his forearm. You watched his calloused fingers drumming on the table, revelling in the clack of his talons.

Peter must have seen you eyeing him because he rushed to hide his smug smile. He knew you were giving in.

‘I’m taking it seriously. You will be compensated, you will be cared for. I just need to know that you understand what you’re getting into. We… Trust you, well enough. That’s why we’re asking you. We trust that you’d have our best interests as heart, just as we’d have yours’ Miguel said slowly. You nodded.

‘Okay. Sure. So, do we do invitro, or—’

The way their faces changed caused you to stutter on your words. They glanced at each other, their faces strained, as if they dreaded what they had to say next. Miguel pumped his brow once before turning away, leaving Peter to sigh and address you alone. Clearly Miguel didn’t trust himself to deliver whatever the bargain was.

‘We… Ideally, we, would like a… natural, conception’ Peter said, his voice dipping slightly on the word ‘natural.’

You felt all the blood rush from your head, only to rise back up and fill your cheeks with a pulsating warmth. Natural? Conception?

‘So… You, would want to get me pregnant—’

‘Physically. By us’ Miguel said. You hated how you shuddered slightly at his voice, at that smooth, husky, sombre tone. It slid down your ears like silk.

‘It’s just, our preference’ Peter explained with a lopsided smile. ‘Miguel’s not a fan of, sterile environments like an invitro lab, brings back bad memories you know? And—well we don’t like the idea of anyone having access to his genes, or mine, that’s bad news. Plus, it’s less stress on you, theoretically. No doctors poking you, or injecting thing, blegh. You know. You know, of course you know.’

You nodded along slowly as he spoke. I mean, it made sense. You had felt some concern when it was first brought up but they both seemed sincere, like this was just the best option, and they seemed so excited. You decided to continue entertaining this idea.

‘Ah… Sure. So, would it just be, one, of you? Like we work out who we want, or—’

‘Well, I mean, we’re not fussed about who the biological father is’ Peter said, his lip tilting into a shy half-smile. ‘It can be either of us. But, chances of success are higher if, we… both, are, trying.’

You raised both brows as you slowly realized what he was coyly implying. ‘You—so, both of you? You’d, both be having sex with me?’

‘Yyyyeaahh’ Peter said. His dorky smile was so annoyingly sweet, you thought glumly, especially on such a handsome face. You always struggled to say no to him. ‘It’s just, like we said, ensure it happens quicker.’

‘And you’re both fine with this?’

‘Yes! We discussed it before, I made the big guy go to therapy first’ Peter said, playfully tugging on Miguel’s arm as the man stoically stared into the distance. He was putting on a stern face but he was clearly endeared by Peter’s affectionate attitude. ‘Its fine! It’s easier, with you being a friend, because you know us and you respect our relationship already.’

‘I sure do’ you said with a slight laugh.

‘See? Exactly! But yes, we talked about it, we know it’s just business. Well, I mean—not to say, it can’t be fun, I mean that’s what they say right? Making the baby is the fun part—’

‘Peter, please’ Miguel groaned between gritted teeth.

‘What? What! What did I say?’ Peter whined. You stifled your laughter as the two bickered.

‘What I’m saying is, we wouldn’t expect you to just, lie on your back like a brood mare and, uh—just, put up with it’ Peter said in a hushed voice as he returned to you. ‘We’re happy to both be involved, we’re happy to, make sure you’re enjoying yourself too, just—we’ll work out the boundaries.’

Again, you nodded slowly. It was a lot to take in, but they seemed to understand that.

‘Just… Just, gimme a minute’ you asked as you picked up your drink. Miguel nodded while Peter went into a ramble about how fine that was, words which you quickly tuned out as you disassociated into your own thoughts.

It was all happening so fast. You supposed you’d have time after this to work it out, though, They said there’d be contracts drawn up, that would take time. Just… did you want to do this?

Having the baby sounded scary, but as they said it’d be around the clock care. With the head of the spider society and all his equipment on hand it’d be hard to imagine something going wrong. You did also trust the two of them, they were your friends and had proven themselves to be good men. Well, most of the time.

And it wasn’t that you were opposed to sleeping with either of them. They were unbelievably attractive, each in their own unique way. Miguel was gorgeous, a top heavy giant with beautiful eyes and such a deep and expressive face, and Peter had that sweet DILF charm about him. They both did, really.

So what was the hang up? Really, WAS there a hang up? It felt like there should be one, but, the more you thought about it, the more you realized you couldn’t find one.

9 months of work was rough, real rough, but you’d be cared for to the max. You’d be paid an extraordinary amount, enough to change your life. You’d be done and over, a clean cut single job once it was done, and supposedly you’d have your own lawyer to ensure you were protected.

Should everything go to plan… It sounded, almost perfect.

You just had to suck up the courage to lie down and let these two men put a baby in you. The moment you contemplated the thought, your face started to heat up, and you rushed to take a drink to cool it down.

“Okay. Ah, can I… Speak?” You asked, awkwardly calling back their attention. The two men turned to you in unison.

“Okay…” you said slowly, before taking another, conclusive breath. “Okay. I’m in. If—”

‘OH! YES, THANK YOU!”

Your response was cut short as Peter flung himself over the table and wrapped you into a bear hug, an embrace so tight that you could barely breath. Miguel simply offered a sympathetic, if slightly exasperated smile over Peter’s back, before helping to claw the man back once more. “Thank you, thank you- oh this means so much to us!” Peter stammered, ignoring your attempts to quiet him. You could feel other people staring across the bar now and it was becoming quite distracting.

“Yeah, yeah, just- Okay, I happy to start the process. I do want that lawyer, uh- not that I don’t trust you guys, but, like you said it’s a big deal’ you said. Miguel grunted approvingly.

‘I wouldn’t have wanted you for the job if you hadn’t accepted that’ he replied, idly glancing at his nails. ‘I’d only accept someone who was, well… Smart enough to set boundaries, even if we are friends.’

‘Right, right. Good. That’s- good’ you said. At this point your mind was racing. You’d accepted the offer, but, what now? It’d probably be a while before any action happened but the sudden, daunting realization that action *would* happen hit you like a truck. You glanced over to where Miguel and Peter were now deep in conversation.

God, they were both huge. Huge. Miguel especially was enormous, nearly 6ft 9 with that thick neck and toned upper torso, the glint of his chiselled collar bone gleaming beneath the neon bar lights. Peter wasn’t as muscular but he was still tall, nearly as tall as Miguel, and he had that quiet, unsuspecting dad-bod strength about him.

You felt your shoulders hunch a little. You had no idea what to expect going forward here, all you knew is that—

‘Hey, sorry, are you gonna finish this those?’

You jumped back to reality to find Peter pointing across you at the table. Your eyes slowly followed his finger, which you realized was pointing at a half-finished bowl of fries you’d got when you arrived after missing dinner. Your eyes shot back up.

‘Uh… I mean, probably not, no’ you said. Peter didn’t say anything more; he just made that sweet, pleading puppy dog face and tilted his head a little. You and Miguel both sighed in unison, but you willingly slid them over to him.

“Oh thank you—” Peter said before his words were turned to garbled mess as he finished the bowl. You turned awkwardly back to Miguel instead. “I’ll send the paperwork over tomorrow” Miguel said, pre-empting your immediate thoughts. “We’re in no rush, so, we’ll work out the details at your pace.” ‘Aha, ah- sure. Thanks. I mean I’m, assuming it’ll be a long process anyway, right?” you replied.

Miguel tilted his head a little. ‘You mean, the pregnancy? Yes, though, I’ve heard it goes quicker than you think. We’ll do all we can to—’

‘OH, no! Not like, the pregnancy specifically” you elaborated, hands now raised. That drew Peter to look up from devouring everyone else’s meal, his eyes curiously fixed on you. Miguel’s stony red gaze remained locked in much the same way.

‘I mean the uh… The, baby making process’ you explained, giving a shrug to try and ease the awkwardness of saying such a thing. Miguel didn’t flinch though; he continued to stare, his head slightly tilted. ‘Like, making a baby can take… months, up to a year even. We’ll have to work around that timeframe I assume’ you said, finishing your point in a rather stilted manner.

Peter turned to look at Miguel. The neon lights were blaring at his back, shadowing his face until his features popped. So sharp, so thick-set, so chiselled. To your surprise, he suddenly smiled in a way you’d never seen before. He gave you a smug, wolfish grin, flashing just an inch of fang.

‘Oh, no. Don’t you worry about that’ he murmured, his voice unnervingly confident. You blinked and watched with a burning core as Miguel leaned forward to finish.

‘It won’t take long at all.’

[priniya]

hi lovie! could you do some percy (or leo, maybe both?? i love them sm hahaha) headcanons abt dating an aphrodite’s child?

I COMPLETELY LOVE THE IDEA OMG??? tysm for requesting anon <3

sorry if it’s not like you imagined it😭 it’s my first time with headcanons like that

dating percy as an aphrodite’s child would include . . .

okay you all gotta admit that if percy could, he would brag about his partner being so beautiful that no one can compete with them

i feel like he’s at the university and some guys are talking and he just waits for a chance to show you off and be like “they are literally a goddess’ child”

BUT IN FRONT OF YOU??? he’d get so awkward even if you were dating for so long

also i’m 100% sure annabeth would sometimes point it out and laugh at the way he turns into a hot mess around you

but tbh you thought it was cute, cus let’s be real. it’s percy jackson, if you weren’t a hot mess around him as well, who would you be?

if you two are sent on a mission together, he rarely thinks about himself first, always making sure you’re okay before he checks himself

in his dorm he probably has pictures of you sticked to the wall in like a heart shape and his roommates might make fun of him for being such a simp but those photos gives him strength whenever you two are apart 🔥

he’s all in for that relationship, he even officially introduced you to both his parents and paul

you taught him how to braid hair and whenever you stay at his mom’s he braid his sister’s hair under your supervision ☹️☹️

when he started dating you he probably became such a gossip guy LIKE hear me out, he started paying attention to details and people’s behavior to talk about it with you

“you won’t believe what i heard today from piper.” “nah, she didn’t told me about it directly, her body language did.”, “i know right, how could he do that to her?”

he’s all in for the tea‼️‼️‼️

OH and also when you began dating he started paying more attention to jewellery and his outfits upgraded so much??

HE IS ALSO SO JEALOUS OF YOU AND HE KISSES YOU IN PUBLIC WHEN HE CATCHES A GUY LOOKING YOUR WAY

“i know you’re a child of aphrodite but these people gotta know i am your ares. or hephaestus.” “wait, am i your ares or hephaestus?”

dating leo as an aphrodite’s child would include . . .

this man is head over heels for you, and i know i said percy also is head over heels for his partner but LEO is on different level

he often drags you to the bunker whenever he feels like it and make you sit there with him, while he crafts something (mostly for you)

that man dedicates all his work for you, like

“oh this? i made it for yn cus they said [insert thing] fall apart so i just… did it.”

ngl he is kind of insecure that you’d left him for a child of ares just like your mother did to his father. even though you reassure him he’s the one on your mind, it still stings him sometimes

getting an approval from your mom wasn’t even that hard as you thought it could be. though she wasn’t exactly the most delighted you were in love with her husband’s child but… love is love right?

pet names in spanish ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

n you would pick it up and surprise him by calling him something in spanish <3

EVEN THOUGH he’s insecure about history repeating itself he jokes about it way too much sometimes 😭😭

brags to jason about you so much jason wants to off himself and i am not kidding

he once asked you to charm-speak him just to see how it feels

“what? don’t be like that, mi amor. i gotta know what’s your power’s like in case you do it subconsciously.”

(that’s literally the dumbest excuse you’d ever hear but didn’t care, considering it was your boyfriend who asked)

MANY people says you remind them of charlie and silena and when you heard it for the first time, you broke down crying because it was such a good compliment

[witchthewriter]

Poly141! | Mission Pixie Dust

Okay so... I was making up scenarios in my head as I was falling asleep last night and I made myself cry ... so I obviously had to share...

Poly141; the four men are your husbands and all deployed at the same time, leaving you home with your three kids at the beginning of the school holidays.

This turned out longer than I thought it would but I just had to write it out. I love Poly141 AND them being dads :')

Da = Johnny

Papa = John P.

Dad= Simon

Daddy = Kyle

School holidays had just started, and your three pups were buzzing as soon as they came home. Bags were thrown on the floor, school shoes unlaced and scattered around the shoe stand. They knew the rules, but first day of school holidays meant they were allowed to get a little wild.

Your oldest, Paesha, had just turned eight and her father was obvious. Thick curls, dark skin and warm brown eyes made it plain to see. But all your husbands loved her the same. In fact, she had a special bond with her Da (Johnny).

Malachai, your second, could have been any of the three other men's. Light brown hair, fair complection, and utterly/overly protective of his sisters. He had been born a year after Pae.

And your youngest, Felicity (known as Flick), had started her first year in big school. She was known for having exceptional blue eyes.

None of your husbands wanted a DNA test, they thought it useless because everyone treats the children with the same love, compassion and warmth.

Throwing your keys on the counter (Paesha picked them up and placed them on the hook). You rubbed the bridge of your nose and tried to quell the longing in your soul. You didn't know if it was worse when the kids were gone or with you. Being completely alone let the terrible thoughts attack but you didn't want your kids to miss out on having their fathers'.

Calming the oncoming tears, you turned around and asked, "who wants pizza for dinner?"

"YES!" Yelled Mal, a fist punched in the air. Paesha nodded her head enthusiastically while Flick did a little happy dance.

Paesha halted and squinted at you, "Not homemade right?"

After dinner arrived, the four of you sat on the large dark green couch. Your two ex-military dogs, Moth and Teddy, sat on either end of the lounge.

Turning onto the streaming service, you found the exact movie you were looking for. The 2003 version of Peter Pan.

With the lights off (except for the kitchen, the kids were still scared of too much darkness), you watched as one of your cats jumped into Pae's lap. Barnaby started purring instantly. His fluffy white tail settled around his body.

The seven of you settled in. Your four human babies snuggled up to their mama, smiles already on their faces.

When the movie had finished, your kids still wouldn't go to bed.

"Oh wait, I know why it isn't working - we don't have the pixie dust!" Flick pulled on your sleeve with a huge gap-toothed smile.

You had been watching as they jumped around the room. Lights flicked on, bodies flinging from one couch to another.

"I know! But ... we don't have any in the house..." You grumbled.

Paesha was staring dreamily at Peter Pan, a cheek resting against her face. "Where do we get some?" Her head turned slightly to look at you, her eyes nearly heart-shaped.

"Ugh-" god trying to keep childlike wonder alive was bloody difficult. Like a sign from the Universe, your phone started to ring.

All three kids ran over to it, knowing exactly who was calling at this time of night. Swiping the screen, four familiar faces popped up.

"Da! Papa! Dad! Daddy!" Smiling through the screen, the men had been just as eager to see their kids as their kids were to see them.

"Hello little munchkins, ya been good for mum?" Simon greeted first. His mask was off and no black could be found around his eyes. He never showed that side to the children.

"We're going to fly!" Flick chirped, her arms outstretched and running around.

"You're - what?" Price said with a slightly panicked face.

"But we need pixie dust," Malachai explained. Shaking his head like this was obvious information.

"I introduced them to the ... live action Peter Pan," you explained and a smile of regret grew on your tired face.

"Oh honey," Kyle replied, understanding the situation. He was the first of the men to.

"But we don't have any and we have to go buy more!" Pae said while leaning against you.

"Eh, pixie dust ...?" you heard Johnny mumble in the background.

"Oh! I have an idea!" You said with a faked expression, "why don't the Dada's get us the pixie dust!"

The chorus of cheers was heard throughout the house. Alerting the the tired Moth and Teddy.

Kyle shook his head. And Price's nose flared. Mum: 1 - Dads: 0.

"We'll bring back the goddamns finest," Simon said. You couldn't help but let out a small laugh.

"See! You heard Dad! Now get your butts' upstairs and in bed."

"Yes ma'am!" They said in unison (a nickname they'd heard their father's use one too many times.)

Once the kids were upstairs, your face dropped.

"I miss you guys," you whispered into the phone. The tears welling and spilling down your cheeks.

"We miss you too," John said, his words strangled with his feelings.

It was always hard to hang up.

It hurt.

But tonight's farewell felt like the hardest. You could just imagine how the scenario would've played out if their father's were there with them. With you.

'Can't always get what we want,' you thought bitterly.

"Not long now," Kyle said. You stared at his eyes and then his lips. God how much you wanted to kiss him.

"You better make sure you bring back some fucking pixie dust or there'll be a riot."

"Aye, Laswell definitely knows someone-" Johnny replied, giving you a wink. "Miss you gorgeous." He always tried to uplift the mood. And it nearly always worked.

You fought out of your misery, knowing the four soldiers couldn't bear to see you upset. And as they said their goodbyes, you said so in return.

"We love you, our precious wife. We'll all be together soon."

[deadghosy]

Hear me out

What about a moth! reader

Like the moth from sky! Children of the light that likes to fly around the hotel and honk at people sense they can't speak

And them giving candles as a way to ask"do you wanna be friends??"

(this is my first time ever requesting something so sorry if it doesn't make sense, feel free to ignore this く⁠コ⁠:⁠彡)

……ANON MARRY ME RN CAUSE I USE TO PLAY THE HELL OUT OF THAT GAME!! RN MARRY ME

HAZBIN HOTEL X MOTH COTL! READER

prompt: a cute moth character enters the ring of hell due to a malfunction of the realms

STORY MODE: you were celebrating days of love as your ikemen softly puts a flower crown on your head as you honk happily. You hugged the Ikemen as he hugs you back, lifting you for a hug spin as he chuckles lowly.

He lifted you on his back as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. He pointed towards the valley realm as they wanted to celebrate your one year anniversary together. You started to spam honk excitedly as the Ikemen nods and runs into the realm. But something went wrong.

END OF STORY MODE: You just stand there as you smell blood and fire in the air. You were confused as you didn’t see your beloved Ikemen anywhere which made you honk out loud…you didn’t see their name either. You inhaled all the air you could and let out a big HONK! That got you the attention of a fellow moth man who smirked behind you. You jolted with a quick honk as Valentino poked your mask. “My my my~ what a cute little thing you are.” Valentino says picking you up like a child.

You didn’t want to die so immediately you pulled out your candle. That made Valentino drawn to the candle as he squeaks happily at the candle and take it. Before Valentino could talk to you, an arm grabbed you and sped away.

Who was the culprit who took you, it was Angel dust in his pink scooter. (A/n: don’t question the scooter) Angel heard that big ass honk and a light as he was curious and went to go look for it only to see you shaking in Valentino’s hold. He didn’t want to save you, but your small frame was shaking and he couldn’t stand it so he had to save you.

And now you are part of the hotel’s crew as they greet you with open arms.

Angel loves you dearly, you immediately warmed up to him giving him a bright white candle as his eyes shined at the light of the candle shaping like a heart. So when Angel took it and it dissolved in his hands. You were so happy you kept spam hugging him.

You literally follow all the members like a first time moth, holding out a candle as you want more friends!

Fat nuggets just oinks and follows you. You pet the cute demon pig who licks your hand back

CHARLIE LOVESSS YOUU😭💗 she picked you up and you honk hugging her back.

Vaggie admires you as well. You seem like a reliable person to bring hopes up.

Lucifer adores you..I mean you are just so affectionate. He immediately accepted the candle and he lifted you up. Kissing your head and gushing over you with tears yelling “I WANNA ADOPT THEM!”

I headcannon Charlie and Lucifer debating which color scheme suits you better as they try to take off your brown moth cape as you honk at them.

I always headcannon skykid moths to be at least like 4’9 and every time they gain winged light they get taller. 🦆✨but since you aren’t in the Sky cotl universe, you are so small so literally they treat you like a kid.

You know like your light decreases when a dark creature hits it or like basically darkness. (Especially during that damn fire trial😐) I can imagine moth! Reader having a night light that Lucifer made you with a duck light shining on the ceiling so you feel safe.

Husk doesn’t even understand what the fuck you are doing by honking at him and following him around constantly with a bright ass white candle.

Husk eventually accepted the candle which made you hug him alot..and oddly husk liked it. Now you gained a drunk uncle.

BIG HEADCANNON THAT VALENTINO WILL TRY TO ADOPT YOU, BUT ANGEL IS DEAD ASS SHAKING HIS HEAD NO AS THE OTHER CREW MEMBERS PROTECT YOU FROM THE GRASP OF THIS MOTH DEMON

As you kept getting adopted by random people, your ikemen was going around every season area asking other skykids have they seen you as he has a missing poster of you….poor Ikemen looks down seeing the flower bracelet you made him.

Back to you as you are making the whole crew paper bracelets thanks to Charlie’s trust exercises and activities.

I can see sir Pentious and you getting along to the point sir Pentious is like a caretaker when you don’t have anyone to be with. Even his egg boiz love to hang with you. Even if they don’t understand you.

You one time big honked and every light flickered since a ring of light was around you. So now the cast is little bit cautious at how “powerful” you are

Alastor would think you eat human/sinner meat as he would bring it to you, noting you don’t eat anything. 😭 DO YOU GUYS KNOW THAT GAGGING CAT?! THATS YOU WHEN YOU SMELT THE MEAT-

Alastor was so offended but he should’ve guessed that you weren’t a cannibal.

Niffty was teaching you how to clean and you accidentally drank bleach making niffty literally chase you around worried as you run.

You actually one time lost your light as you were crouched on the floor. Immediately Lucifer grabbed you up scared that you were dying as your body got out of the state and into your regular appearance.

Tbh Lucifer thought you was a scary demon crawling for your life, until you honked is when he realized it was his moth friend.

You fly around honking as you help razzle and dazzle with putting up banners. Razzle and dazzle pick you up if you don’t have enough energy to fly. You guys are flying buddies is what I headcannon.

I imagine husk is sleeping and you glide down from the stairs as you honk softly in his ear to wake him up. He grumbles at first so you decided to do a big honk. You inhaled as a ring of light surrounds the place as the honk rings out in the hotel.

“GAH!” Husk yells falling off the couch grabbing you as he thought you were trouble to only find out there wasn’t no problems. He grumbles angrily at you.

You once flew down like Batman and Angel recorded it founding it adorable.

Charlie had noticed you like to collect candles so she bought a stack of candles which made your eye light up and immediately run to your room with them.

Your mask definitely falls off your face, so imagine the whole hotel’s cast reaction to your face just being completely black with eyelashes (bruh skykid’s eyelashes are so damn pretty and long 😭)

When you went with Charlie to meet with the angels, Adam raised a brow at you because he never seen a “demon” like you. But he didn’t feel any angelic or demonic energy off you.

“What’s up lil dude…where’s your mama?” Adam says teasing you as he pats your head while Charlie watching nervously. You just honk at him and pull out a big white candle. Lute and Adam glanced at each other as Adam took it. The candle dissolved into a circle as Adam felt warm. You honk happily and hugged him.

“So can I keep this little shit?” Adam says to Charlie. “WHAT NO?!-”

I headcannon you once did the backflip emote and they all applaud you like “oh wow!”

Alastor and Lucifer are the smart ones to try to get you to call them dad…but you just honk and hug them like a little child happy to see them.

Of course Valentino is blowing Angel’s phone asking him if he seen a moth like demon….

Lucifer made you a duck cape. Like the cape was heaven sky blue with duck patterns in it. He found it so cuteee! 🦆💗

You honked madly at fat nuggets as the pig had eaten up your brown cape making angel dust make you a pink cape. It was bedazzled and it didn’t look like the sakura or valley cape you see other skykids wore once