#Carries a large knife around in hopes it helps him

[feoistooshort]

child Kylar take 2

[dropsnectar]

Your Puppy Siren!: When a Siren becomes a House Husband

PART TWO

NSFW

Obviously, when Baby got his legs, you couldn't just abandon him. You weren't sure exactly what was next for the two of you,, so you took it one step of a time. Baby had an issue with that, as balance wasn't necessarily a skill he could magic up with his oceanic enchantments.

He leaned on you the whole way home, taking jerky steps through the grasses.

When you showed him around the house, and the first thing he did was ask where you slept. You had shown him your bedroom and he immediately made himself comfortable about the blankets and pillows. You set him up with a copy of ‘The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe”, before going to make him dinner: mild Japanese curry. 

It was mostly vegetables, as you had only had a few ounces of ground beef left, but you hoped his stomach was as human as his now legs. His whole body had changed, leaving him now almost albino pale, with large dark eyes that were still a bit too big for his human face.

When you went to walk him to the dining room table, you found him standing, holding the book to the ceiling as he read. He was leaning back and forth on each foot, as if the movement kept him upright. Perhaps he still had his sea legs under all that new skin. 

He still needed your help to get to the table but his steps were more sure now. He ate the food happily, making sure to compliment you whenever possible. On the way back to your room, Baby could now keep his balance as he went. The first thing he did was gather as many pillows and blankets as he could from the living room, before leading you by the hand to your room, and arranging them further on the bed.

“Do you like it?” He asked, eyes eager. It had never occurred to you that Sirens may nest, but you took it in stride.

“It looks very warm.” you apeased, tired. 

Sleeping on the nest didn't go as bad as you thought, but Baby had been a bit confused when you had tucked a blanket around the two of you

“It's to keep us warm.” 

He had responded by pulling you to his arms and wrapping his legs around you.

“I can do that just fine.” He beamed. You laughed and let him hold you as you fell asleep. You could figure out Baby's fate tommorrow.

You had always pushed off the deciding of Baby's fate to tommorrow. You couldn't face it. Going to your part time job, then nursing school had been difficult for you. You were exhausted everyday you came back home.

Baby made himself as useful as he could. You had taught him some of the basics of cleaning the house. He had seemed somewhat confused by the idea of cleaning, but he took it upon himself to make sure the place was gleaming when you got home. You had taken him to the library a day after his legs sprung up, and he had carried home a pile of books, one of them being “Martha Stawarts Complete Guide to Housekeeping”.

 You hadn't resided in the place long, but places you hadn't even realized were dirty were suddenly sparkling and smelling lightly of lavender and orange peels. 

He had also brought home a whole pile of fish. It seemed that he could now shift his form back and forth at will. You remember coming home, sweat covered and in need of ibuprofen, when you found a pile of fish on the kitchen table. He had looked so proud if himself.

“We can keep them all in the freezer! What a useful device!”

You had gently taken his arms in hand and explained that humans weren't able to eat fish whole like sirens could. They had to be stripped of their scales and deboned. He seemed a bit tired by this, yet another a strange human quirk, but had taken it in stride. Per his request you had set him up with an instructional video on the subject. 

He seemed to catch on pretty quickly, the only difference was that rather than using a sharp knife, he had preferred to use his talon like nails. They were retractable, he clarified later, and arguing they were cleaner than any knife when you had demanded he washed his hands before working.

“They will only get dirty again anyway!” He had argued, one of the few times he had ever done anything but smile at you. The concept of germs was met with raised eyebrows and apprehension. 

For the first time in your life, you gave him “the look”. As this seemed to be a communication move that spanned species, he gave in, washing his talons? Claws? Before going back to his work.

A silent system had begun to flesh itself out. You brought home the money and groceries, and did most of the cooking, he did everything else. And anything you asked of him. Which wasn't much, but he became more and more useful by the day. 

You couldn't help but feel a bit proud for Baby. The more you learned about him and Siren Life the more different the two of you seemed. But he had been adjusting so well, you almost didn't have to worry about him. Plus, it was hard to be mad at someone who made a point of taking care of you, like he did. 

He gave you shoulder messages, microwaved old dinners when you didn't feel like eating. Hed shush you, and sometimes carry you to bed, petting your hair and singing you to sleep everytime everything felt like too much. And that was often. 

It had been a week since he had taken up shop in your bedroom, and reality reared its big fat head like a snake. You had been whisked away to bed, and instead of cooing at you and humming that impossibly sweet voice of his, he had started to nibble on the side of your neck, hands reaching towards your pajama shorts. His tongue felt so incredibly good, and his touch was like silk, but you knew where this would leave.

“Stop. We don't have any protection.”

He had frozen and blinked at you, expression changing to the barely concealed mask of an adult trying to not laugh at a child's sudden declaration.

“If I sense any danger, I will deal with it immediately. Now come here…” His voice grew husky. You trailed back.

“I know we haven't talked about this before but what if… well you're a human so im not sure if it'll be the same but… I can't get pregnant. I don't know if it works the old fashion way or you might lay eggs in me or something but… we need to be careful.”

He was still smiling but he was biting his lip. “While I DO lay eggs, that part of me hasn't changed, I don't understand why it would be an issue. I am your husband, after all, shouldn't it be normal to have children at some point?”

“H-husband? Why do you think you're my husband?”

Babys face changed, the closest you had ever seen him get to upset. “We mated, we share a nest, how am I NOT your husband?”

“We had sex, yeah, but we didn't get married. Do Sirens mate for life? Is that why you think this?” 

His expression grew animated and confused.

“Sirens do not mate for life, we have breeding seasons. But Humans mate for life, do they not? Why do you think I have been doing all this? I mean, I even made you a nest and you slept with me in it! How much more is their to a human marriage ritual?” 

You stared at him, the realization dawning. You slowly put your hand over his and arranged your expression to one of patience.

“Humans used to mate for life. But ita a bit different now. We can have sex, even spend years courting before we agree to marry.”

Baby just stared at you, his confusion and anger turning to one of hurt.

“B-but what does that mean? I told you, I love you. I want to be with you.” He leaned forward tears starting to glisten at the corner of his eyes.

“I wanted a life with you. I threw my old life away the moment I got these legs. I have no idea where my pod is now, I can not return to them. I do not wish to return. I want to stay here, with you and be your mate.” He nuzzled his nose against yours and then took your cheeks in his hand. He gazed into your eyes, filled with longing.

“I may be new to being your partner; at being Human too. But I will do whatever you ask of me. Please. Be mine?” 

He started to kiss your forehead. Then your eyes. Then your cheeks. His gaze strayed to your lips and he whined out, full blown tears now streaming from his eyes. 

“I'll be so good. So good for you.” 

Your heart went out to him. You had to admit, life had gotten so much easier to bear since he had entered it. No one could make you laugh like he could, could make you as curious as he could, could kiss you like he could. 

You thought about it. Genuinely thought about it. You had a job, and nursing would pay you enough to pay for both of your lives once you started. You'd have to teach him how to properly navigate human society but he was so smart and charming, you were sure he would do so well. You came up with so many reasons why it could be doable, but the most important one was you didn't want to let him go.

“It'll be really hard for you. Are you sure you want this?” You whispered. “Want… me? You could spend the rest of your life sharing your season with mate after mate. Are you sure you would want to spend the rest of your days with me?”

He looked at you with intensity, the light finally dawning across his features. 

“It will always be you.” And then he was on you. Was kissing you.

He was quick to take off your clothes, and did the same. His mouth was hot and needy, the feeling of his tongue in your mouth being everything you could ever want. That was except for one or two other places. 

As if he could read your mind, he grinned, pulling himself down to stare at your groin, fingers grasping, teasing and exploring every sensitive curve and crevice. Then he got to work with his mouth and you groaned, your core turning molten. You could hear the noises of his mouth on your flesh, and it made your cheeks overheat. 

His tongue glided around you as he sucked with his full mouth, making you shake and jerk under him. He made sure to pin you down with his hands now, before he started to trill and sing around you.

You chocked, pushing your hips up against his big string hands, which were now a mix of grey and white. It seems he had been riled up to, as his form was caught halfway between human and Siren. It was a new sight and he was absolutely gorgeous and one long note made you crash over the edge, toes and fingers curling. 

The whole time his eyes were on you, gauging your reaction. He continued to auck you through the high but now started clawing at your entrance, circling slick little shapes. He seemed to take great joy in this, teasing your ache, before he plunged his fingers in making you choke and sigh all at once. When he was certain the area was worked enough, he gave you big puppy dog eyes. 

“Can I be yours again?” He whispered huskies slowing the rate of his fingers. You nodded and he pulled himself up, pumping his own cock a few times making sure it was properly slick. His cock was half transformed too. It was extremely veins and the ridges weren't as pronounced, but he was thicker. You licked your lips as you remembered how he felt inside you.

Aware that you were watching him he keened in pride. He then slowly inserted himself, pushing further and further until you took every inch of him. You gasped out and clawed at the sheets in pleasure as he pumped you, his own eyes glazing over as he unleashed low, pornagraphic moans. He was louder than he had ever been, snapping his hips into yours, fingers clutching deep into skin. He looked completely blissed out as he rocked himself into you, huffing and moaning.

“Sound. So. Beautiful.” You breathed, knowing he was getting close. You could feel a heaviness now in the air. He wouldn't be able to help it. He'd be so drunk he'd use that song of his and you'd cum and cum for him until he was too far in exctasy to make any noise. And you were right.

You could tell he was holding it in. But he couldn't help but hum out, a song that seemed to cup and penatrate your very soul, making your entire mind stuffy and silly. You didn't want him to stop, going over the edge as another one of his moans turned into a full blown note. He kept bucking into you, skin slapping skin, as he keened and hummed and sang out for you. He wanted you to feel good. Wanted you to cum and feel good only for him. Because you were his.

When you felt his cum splash inside you it was warm, and more sludge like. It took a while to seep put of you. A comedic point in the back of your mind noted, “No eggs”. 

He pulled himself to your side, pulling you tight to him. “Can… can I stay in you for a while?” He said it in a light begging tone. You nodded, a pulse of faraway pleasure as he pushed his soft dick inside you again. It felt nice, being one with him in this sweet comfortable moment.

You wanted to ask him about the magic, about the song and how for just a moment, it was like you could read his mind. But their was something so special about the moment, you didn't want to push him too far. Maybe next time, you could egg him on to use that power on you, to be completely encompassed by his pleasure and song. 

“I know your tired, and we can wait but… can we do it again?” He pushed his nose to yours and traced it up and down, his eyes watery and begging. You could feel his dick twitch inside you. 

“Please just let me spoil you. It is our wedding night after all…”

You had to stop yourself from correcting him. Tomorrow you would explain vows and wedding ceremony, but for now you'd just give in. But you had to admit, now a big piece of you belonged only to him.. So, in a way he had been right.

[o0sleepingdead0o]

Prepared for Anything

Part 2, MasterPost

Danny stared at the ceiling, bored, as the creepy clown laughed manically at a camera. Danny hadn’t been in this dimension for two minutes, (he’d portalled directly into Joker’s hideout) before he was promptly tied to a chair. He could get out of it easily.

Thing was, there were others here, restrained more thoroughly than Danny. They wore colourful, armoured suits and were obviously the vigilantes/heroes of this. . .place—Gotham? Danny’d heard the name mentioned a few times now—This Freakshow wannabe was obviously one of their villains. 

Danny had been hoping someone would show up without having to draw attention to himself. What was this dimension’s stance on halfas? Or ghosts?

But no one had come yet, it had been an hour, and he was getting stiff from sitting here so long without being able to move his limbs.

Danny heaved a loud, exasperated sigh-groan at the ceiling. The guy, face-painted like a toddler who’d gotten into their parent’s make-up, suddenly stopped monologuing. 

Good. It was getting annoying.

“Are you done yet?” Danny complained much like the impatient teenager he was. “I’ve got crap to do, wrap it up, would you?”

Danny came here to explore. He was not exploring. He should be exploring and it was all this dude’s fault.

Danny supposed he could go all ghost on him and bounce, but he came all this way. It wasn’t much of hassle, but still. Danny was stubborn. He knew this.

The warehouse was silent. The creepo wasn’t talking, anymore, he wasn’t doing anything, and Danny deigned to lift his head from where it’d been thrown back on the chair.

The costumed people were looking at him in horror.

Danny wasn’t sure why.

The walking fashion disaster began to cackle with condescending amusement.

Yeah, okay, whatever.

Danny ignored the man’s delve into something about Danny’s impending doom, or threatening him with pain, and something, something, something. Something about broken this, burning that, yada, yada yada, when Danny got an idea.

Behind the chair where his hands were bound, knowing no one was behind him, he quietly broke the ropes on his wrists. The vigilantes—a red one with bandoliers crossing over his chest and one who wore a largely grey and black suit with an R emblem on the left side of his chest—were valiantly trying to dissuade the psycho to leave Danny alone, who now realized the said psycho was coming towards him, carrying a crowbar.

How original.

The Joker, as Danny heard someone call him at some point, he’s not sure when, leaned in close. His breath stank. 

Danny made a disgusted face. “Do you not brush your teeth at all? Gross, dude.”

“You won’t be mak—“

Danny punched him in the jaw. The guy went down pretty easily. 

Danny made an annoyed noise as he bent down to untie his ankles from the chair legs. He muttered to himself. “Stupid villains, always gotta get in the way, why can’t I just have one nice vacation, huh?”

“How did you do that?” 

Danny looked up at the red one. “Do what?” He asked, standing and stretching with satisfying pops.

“Get free.”

“Oh. . .” Danny reached into his hoodie sleeve and pulled out a small hand saw. He guessed he coulda used a knife, but it was the first thing he'd thought of.

The guy spluttered. “You just keep a saw in your sleeve?”

“Yep.” Danny popped the P. No need for them to know he can make portals. As tiny as needed. “You guys want help out of those, or what?” Danny gestured to the chains keeping the two bound on the floor.

“No, Joker’s goons outside probably has the keys, we have back-up. . . .coming. . . .where did you get that?”

Danny didn’t miss a beat as he crouched to get a grip on the chain with the large pair of bolt cutters. “Ah, ya know, never leave home without a good pair of bolt cutters.” He offered. The room they were in was pretty bare, saying he found it “lying around” wouldn’t work. It’d be pretty obvious.

“That is absurd.” The younger one said. “Where did they come from?”

Danny snapped the red one free and moved onto the angry eyebrows one. How did they still emote so well through those masks? “Just had it on hand.”

“But wh—“

“Oh look! There ya go! I gotta go, nice being held hostage with y'all.” Danny ignored their calls for him, climbing out of the nearest window and disappearing.

[auxmodi]

sexual tension

drabble ;)

my masterlist

summary: around the campfire, the men start teasing sandor about his size, and as the crude jokes fly, you can't help but sneak a glance at him. when you catch the outline of him beneath his clothes, your heart races, and you can't look away. sandor notices, and the tension between you two is almost too much to handle. you're left wondering what will happen when the camp settles down for the night.

warnings: nsfw, sexual tension, sexual attraction , reader's smutty thoughts, alcohol, objectification, p in v sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, swearing , public sex kind of.

word count: 3.2k

the campfire crackled and spit, casting flickering shadows over the circle of men gathered around it. the air was thick with the smell of sweat and woodsmoke, the chatter growing louder as the ale flowed. you sat just outside the circle, not part of their bawdy camaraderie, but close enough to catch every word, and gods, how you wished you weren’t.

“clegane,” one of the younger men drawled, a drunken smirk plastered across his face. “bet you’re hiding something fierce under all that armor, eh?”

the others laughed, quick and eager to latch onto the joke. sandor, seated across the fire, didn’t so much as glance up.

“reckon it drags behind him in the snow,” another chimed in, slapping his knee.

more laughter, rough and raucous. your stomach twisted as you pulled your cloak tighter around you, hoping to disappear into the night.

sandor’s lip twisted into a mocking half-smile, his gaze sharp as it swept over the group. “keep talking about my cock,” he growled, the words a low, gravelly threat, “and I’ll make sure it’s the last thing you ever get to look at.”

that earned a chorus of hoots and hollers, none of them taking the threat seriously.

“you hear that?” the first one cackled, slapping his thigh. “big man’s got a temper to match!” he leaned forward, squinting at you. “what d’you think, girl? you’re always hovering around him, eh? got an eye for—”

you choked on your sip of water, quickly lowering the cup and staring at the ground as your cheeks burned hotter than the fire.

the thud of steel slicing into wood made you flinch. when you dared to look up, sandor’s knife was embedded in the log beside the man’s head, the blade gleaming menacingly in the firelight. the man froze mid-laugh, his face blanching as though all the blood had drained from it.

the men fell silent for half a beat before breaking into another round of laughter, though it was more nervous this time, the kind of laughter that comes when you’re not sure if someone’s joking.

“aye, no need for that,” the first one said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “just a bit of fun, clegane.”

sandor leaned back against the log, his long legs stretched out and his lips curling into something close to a smirk. He didn’t say another word, just shook his head as if they weren’t worth the effort.

you tried to focus on the cup in your hands, but the conversation around the camp was impossible to ignore.

the men roared, and you dared a glance toward sandor. he was still as a stone, sitting against a log, legs stretched out in front of him. His bowl of stew rested in one hand, the other dangling lazily by his side.

but it wasn’t just his size that drew your eye. It was the way he carried himself, like he was more than aware of the effect he had on everyone around him.

the long lines of his legs, the thick muscles visible even under layers of leather and wool. your gaze drifted lower before you could stop yourself, there, was the unmistakable outline of him, large and thick, pressing against the fabric of his trousers. your heart pounded in your ears as you realized just how much of a hold he had over you.

you tried to tear your eyes away, but the way he filled out his clothes, the way he made you feel. you wanted to touch him, to feel that strength, feel the weight of him, his size, pressing down on you. the image of him, thick and demanding, burned into your mind, refusing to leave.

when you glanced up, you found sandor watching you. his eyes were steady, sharp, like he knew exactly what had been going through your mind. there was no judgment in his gaze, only that intense, unblinking stare, like he was daring you to admit it. To admit just how much you wanted him, how much you needed him.

slowly, almost lazily, he tilted his head.

“enjoying the view?” his voice was a low rasp, just loud enough for you to hear over the chatter of the men.

your heart raced, and you looked down, fumbling with the crust of bread in your hands like it held the answers to your embarrassment.

he huffed a quiet laugh, deep and rough. “thought so.”

the sound of his laughter, knowing, made your pulse jump. you risked a glance up, only to find he was still watching you, his lips curling into something between amusement and triumph.

you tried to gather yourself, but your body felt light, almost dizzy from the weight of the moment. but then, as the world around you came back into focus, you realized you weren’t the only one who had noticed.

the men around the fire had been watching too. they’d seen, heard everything. you could feel their eyes flicking between you and sandor, their glances filled with anticipation, like they were waiting for something to happen.

one of them, who’d been watching intently, couldn’t help but chuckle. “well, looks like you’ve caught the big man’s attention, girl.”

you could feel every set of eyes on you now, watching, waiting for something, anything to happen. and you knew that whatever had just passed between you and sandor wasn’t going to be forgotten.

-

some time passed, and you were finally alone. you had been chosen to set up the camp, and for once, you weren't mad about it. the embarrassment still lingered, heavy on your body, but with this task, there was no one around to remind you of it.

the dirty thoughts still lingered in your mind, persistent and unsettling. it was the way he looked at you, like it didn’t bother him at all. there was something strange between the two of you, an unspoken connection that you couldn’t shake, no matter how hard you tried.

lost in the depths of your thoughts, the sudden crunch of boots on the ground behind you pulled you from your trance. you didn’t dare glance over your shoulder, but the shadow cast by the moonlight told you everything you needed to know. his presence loomed large, unmistakable. it was sandor.

he stood there for a moment. then, in his usual gruff manner, he spoke. “you’re alone out here.” his voice was steady, not a question, but a statement. the air between you felt thick, but his presence, though imposing, didn't seem to demand anything more.

you glanced at him, trying to hide the slight amusement creeping onto your face. his expression was unreadable, his eyes dark as always. he was standing too close, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his presence, but still, he didn’t move, didn’t push.

“well?” he asked after a long pause, his voice rough, yet tinged with something you couldn’t quite place. “you gonna stand there all night? ain't you got a camp to set up?” his voice reeked of alcohol.

you blinked, suddenly realizing you were still rooted to the spot, caught in the strange tension he’d created. his tone had been flat, but there was something in the way he looked at you, like he was waiting for you to say something.

“right,” you muttered, shaking your head as if to clear it. you turned away from him, reaching for the bedrolls and stakes you had set aside, trying to ignore the way your heartbeat had quickened. “I’ll get to it.”

you could feel his presence still lingering behind you as you bent down to fasten the stakes into the ground, the weight of his stare making the silence awkward and thick. every movement felt too deliberate, like he was watching your every action, even though he hadn’t said a word since his last remark.

suddenly, you felt a hand press against your lower back. startled, you flinched and glanced up at him. without warning, he yanked you to your feet by your pants, pulling you tightly against his chest, your back to him. "don't make me do all the work" he murmured low, his voice thick with intent. you held your breath, feeling the undeniable pressure of his body against yours. his hips subtly thrust forward, the hardness of his bulge pressing into your lower back.

your pulse quickened, a mixture of nerves and something else you couldn’t quite place. you shifted uncomfortably, trying to create some distance between you, but his grip was firm. "sandor," you whispered, unsure of what you wanted him to do. "this isn't right."

without answering, he lowered his mouth to your neck, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just below your ear. the warmth of his breath sent a shiver through you, and before you could react, his hand moved down your body. with a sudden, forceful motion, his fingers grasped the fabric of your shirt, pulling it taut before ripping it open. the sound of fabric tearing filled the air, and your breath caught in your throat.

you gasp, instinctively crossing your arms to shield your chest, but he seizes your wrists and firmly pulls them behind your back. sandor smirks, his voice low and rough as he says, “hiding won’t save you now.”

he pulls you back into him, your ass pressing against his bulge. sandor chuckled, a sound that reverberated through you. "is that what you want?" he growled low, his voice thick with desire. you could feel the tension in his body, the way he stiffened behind you as you pushed back into him. his groan followed, deep and unmistakable, as his hips involuntarily thrust forward.

"keep pushing, and you're only going to make it worse," he whispered against your ear, his voice a mix of amusement and promise.

but you couldn’t stop. you pressed back into him again, your body moving against his in a way that left no room for hesitation. his breathing hitched, and before you could react, sandor spun you around with brutal force. you fell to the ground, the air knocked from your lungs, and you gasped in surprise.

you now sat on the floor, hands pushing up your body to regain some balance. your breath was shallow, heart racing, and as you looked up, you saw sandor towering over you, his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

he took his time, slowly unbuckling his belt as his gaze never left you. you couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and fear, the way his eyes held you in place, his every movement calculated.

he noticed the excitement in your eyes, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his lips. a low chuckle escaped him, the sound rich with amusement. "you’re eager," he murmured, his gaze darkening as he took in your reaction.

you were frozen, not knowing what to say, your words lost in the heaviness of the moment. all you could do was sit there, heart pounding, waiting for him to move, unsure of what would come next.

without warning, he unzipped his pants and slowly takes out his cock. you stared in disbelief, you couldn't help but notice how much larger he was than you'd expected. his gaze remained locked on yours, and with a slow, almost indifferent smirk, he muttered, 'didn't think you'd be this quiet. thought you’d have more to say.'"

his words stung, challenging you, and without thinking, you pushed yourself to your feet. you met his eyes, you didn’t know if you were trying to prove something to him or to yourself, but you took a step closer, your breath steadying as you faced him head-on.

you stared at him, the silence heavy between you. neither of you needed to speak to know what you both wanted, but the words failed to form. uncertainty gripped you, but something inside urged you to move, to take the first step. without thinking further, you leaned in and kissed him.

your lips met his, the kiss harsh and impatient, filled with undeniable desire and lust. you felt his tongue push past your lips, exploring your mouth, his hand tightened his grip on your thigh, finger digging into your skin. "answer me", he said, his voice low, "you think you can take all of me, huh?" his other hand quickly yanked your pants down to your knees, the urgency in his movements making your pulse quicken.

you looked up at sandor, meeting his intense gaze, your voice barely above a whisper. "do your worst." the words were edged with hesitation, but there was something else there too, a quiet challenge. he smirked, clearly appreciating the boldness beneath your uncertainty, before he spun you around and shoved you face-first into the tree.

his grip on your wrists was rough, pulling them behind your back and holding them there with unrelenting force. his breath was hot against the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. as reality set in, so did a rush of nervousness, your breath quickened, your heartbeat pounding in your chest.

he chuckled, feeling the tension in your body. "you're not getting cold feet now are ya?" his voice gravelly, "it's too late to back out now."

you feel the cold breeze on your legs and chest, and you try to arch your back slightly, as if to invite him in. you feel his hard presence against you, waiting impatiently.

when all of a sudden you felt sandor's thick fingers attach themselves to your pussy. his other hand stil holding on tight to your wrists. "let me see" he mutters, his fingers brushing against your folds, stroking up and down.

you desperately tried to clamp your legs shut, the humiliation heavy in your chest, too much to bear. but his hand, strong as usual, forced them apart. the weight of it settled heavy on you, the sense of being exposed, vulnerable, naked in a way you never thought you'd be, especially with sandor, your usual companion in the mud and blood of battle, seeing you like this.

sandor, clearly tired of you already, grabbed you by the neck with a cold, firm hand, his grip locking you in place. you were shoved hard against the tree, your body pinned to the bark. there was no hesitation in him now, he didn’t want to wait any longer.

"quit fightin’," he growled. "you’ll give in, like it or not."

you were so overwhelmed by his actions that your mind went blank, unable to focus or think clearly. he noticed, of course he did. "please, sandor," you murmured, desperately trying to create some friction by swaying your hips, but he held you down firmly, laughing at your attempt.

sandor is so smug about it too, groaning just quietly enough while his hands grab your ass, pulling you further apart so he can finally enter you. "been waiting for this," he murmured, his voice low and filled with satisfaction.

you turn your head towards him, glancing over your shoulder just to see how big he looked as he loomed over you, pulling you closer while gripping the base of his cock as he slips his tip into you. the sharp, overwhelming pain makes your body ache. you cried out in desperation, you close your eyes and try to relax every muscle in your body as he slowly fills you up, little by little.

sandor furrowed his brows as he holds still for just a moment, his rough hands were all over you. "fucking hell, don’t tell me you’re a virgin" he growls through his teeth.

"not that,” you finally managed to whisper, releasing the breath you were holding. “i just- it’s been a while.”

"you're so fucking tight". he grunted, finally feeling your cunt stop clenching, he immediately pulled back and thrust into you forcefully, causing you to cry out, your arm instinctively reaching back to hold his hips back from the overwhelming sensation. he ignores your protests and starts thrusting into you quickly, your body responding to his every move. you whimper with each thrust, moving in rhythm with him, your hand still holding his hip in protest as he drives into you relentlessly.

he grabs the arm that's gripping his hip and pushes it behind your back, gaining a better angle as he thrusts into you. "c'mere," he growled, his grip tightening on your arm. "let me feel you, all of you".

the eye contact, his words, it’s almost enough to make you tap out. sandor’s eyes never leave yours as he pushes into you roughly.

as the rustling of footsteps grows closer, you freeze, heart racing. sandor's grip tightens on you, his eyes scanning the surrounding woods. the sound of your men moving through the trees grows louder, and you can feel the tension in the air.

"stay quiet," sandor murmurs, his voice low and commanding, as he pulls you closer, putting his hand over your mouth. almost covering your whole face with just one hand. neither of you can be fucked to care, the pleasure building low in your stomach as he keeps on pounding into you.

the men approach, oblivious to your presence, and you hold your breath, hoping they don't notice anything out of the ordinary.

you can hear their voices now, but they pass by without a second glance, the danger passing as quickly as it arrived. sandor lets out a low grunt, picking up his speed, fueled by frustration. his hands find your hair, pulling it harshly, causing you to yelp.

you choked on your moans, your aching pussy taking him whole, sandor leans in close as he pushes you back and forth on his cock. loving how you whine everytime he slides inside of your pussy.

he can't hold back anymore, his control snaps, and all that’s left is brute force and raw lust. he grips your hips tightly, his hands holding your ass as you let him take control. his touch grows bolder, sliding up your sides, skimming your stomach, and grazing your chest until they rest just above your throat. he pulls your towards him, looking for you eyes.

you look at him and find him staring at you, his lips parted, his eyes moving from your face to your ass, watching as he splits you open, again and again.

"oh gods" he mumbles under his breath, still staring at where you bodies keep on meeting together with his brute force. his breath quickens, short, guttural growls of pleasure escaping his mouth, you nod, sandor immediately knowing what you mean, his fingers dig into your hips even harder, his breathing becoming faster and more labored, as he picks up the pace. the sound of slapping flesh becoming even louder in the forest.

before you know it, you're cunt is filled up with his seed, you cum and his name keeps on falling of your lips. "that's it girl." he thrusts his seed deeper. it's quick, the way he eases himself out of you, how you feel it flowing down your inner thighs.

you try to stand secure on your wobbly legs and it was you who finally said something. "y- yeah, you've made your point."

sandor just watches you with a grin on his face, cocky bastard.

[amomentsescape]

I love your writing! Could I possibly get a Slasher X reader. One of the Reader ending up in the hospital for whatever reason. It could be over sickness or getting injured/hunt.

Slashers React to Reader Ending Up in the Hospital

Slashers x Reader (Separate)

Warnings: Mentions of injury, illness, and killings

A/N: Thank you so much! Some of the Slashers were written outside of the hospital setting since I don't think all of them would be comfortable stepping out into public. I hope you still enjoy though!

Freddy Krueger

Freddy decided to pay you a visit in the real world when he hadn't heard from you in a few days

It wasn't like you to not say anything, and he was starting to get worried

But when he checked into your bedroom and found you nowhere in sight, he quite literally freaked out

(He may have visited some of your friends that night and threatened them to find out where you were)

When he finally found you in the hospital, he was even more worried

You could barely talk and your eyes were horribly bloodshot

It was only when you began coughing did he realize what was going on

"I haven't been able to close my eyes for more than 20 minutes without coughing" you hoarsely whispered to him

Despite wanting to take you back home with him, he knew better

He wasn't exactly a doctor, and he cared more about you getting better than you visiting him

So he let you be

He did help you with falling asleep though

And he visited you every night until you got better

He killed a couple nurses that he stated weren't taking care of you well enough though

Michael Myers

Yeah, he's pissed

He comes home, and you're not there?

Livid

Mostly at the idea that something happened to you, but he won't admit that the idea of you leaving him may have crossed his mind a couple times

But when he finds a note stating you were going to get yourself checked out at the hospital, he immediately heads out without a second thought

You have no idea how, but he sneaks in without anyone noticing him?

He immediately rips the blanket off of you and scans your body, trying to pinpoint what is wrong

It's only when he sees your bandaged leg that he meets your eyes

"I was trying to clean your knife, and it slipped..." you said like a kid about to be scolded

He shook his head at you and then lifted you into his arms, carrying you out of the room

While walking out, you happen to notice several dead bodies laying on the ground, blood pooling around them

Ah, so that's how he got in

Jason Voorhees

It was after the 5th night of not being able to breathe fully that you gave in, deciding to go to the hospital

You told Jason it would be super quick, but after a few hours, you still hadn't returned

Instead of just waiting a little longer like a normal person, Jason assumed that something terrible had happened and decided to make a public appearance

(Something he doesn't do often)

He headed into town and located the nearest hospital

Luckily, it was late by now, and the hospital wasn't quite as busy as normal

When he stepped inside, he just slammed down a piece of paper with your name on it, the front desk worker frantically typing in the computer

With how Jason looked and the size of his machete in tow, nobody even bothered to question him

When he was finally pointed to your room, he immediately picked you up and walked back out with you

After finding your doctor and making them give him your prescriptions, he was off to take you back home with him

He wouldn't dare spend even a single night without you

Thomas Hewitt

With the amount of meat hooks, knives, and scrapped bones around, it was a surprise you hadn't gotten into an accident sooner

You were a pretty clumsy person in general, so when you stumbled over a little dip in the tile floor of the kitchen, you instinctively reached your hand out to stop yourself

You managed to not hit the ground, but you sacrificed the palm of your hand in the process

A large butcher's knife was sitting on the counter, and it had sliced right into your skin

Thomas was rushing to your side in a hurry, frantically smooshing towels onto your wound to stop the bleeding

Despite his protests, you insisted on going to get looked at in the hospital

You were certain your hand was going to need stitches

While you were out, he just sat on the couch the whole time, staring at the wall

You promised to be back later, and so he trusted you

But there was no way he was going to be productive with you gone

Once were finally back, Thomas was quick to give you princess treatment

He makes you lay in bed while he brings you food, treats, and cuddles

He'll be watching you like a hawk for the weeks to come, that's for sure

Bubba Sawyer

Bubba was quite literally hanging onto your ankles as you tried to make your way through the door

He was blubbering like crazy

But this stomach flu you've been dealing with was making you miserable

You needed some type of medicine to sort yourself out, although Bubba disagreed

You told him you'd be back soon before giving one last shake and running out the door, leaving Bubba whining after you

He was yelling at basically everything and everyone, frantically storming around the house until you came back

He knew he wouldn't be able to go with you, but he hated you going anywhere by yourself

He was only calm again when you walked back through the door a couple hours later, some weird looking pills in hand

He'd be all over you after that, refusing to even let you go to the bathroom by yourself

And unfortunately for him, this attachment to you resulted in him waking up with the same stomach pains you had just a day later

At least you still had some medicine left, right?

Brahms Heelshire

So there's no way in hell Brahms would ever let you go to the hospital

When you accidentally tripped on the stairs, knocking yourself unconscious during the fall, Brahms was going through a mental breakdown

He didn't know how to help you

And despite all the shaking and slaps he could muster, nothing would wake you up

He finally gave up and decided to call 911

When the ambulance showed up, they were met with a grisly surprise

One of the medics was immediately killed upon entry, and the other was held at knife point, forced to call back and say everything was fine

Brahms then forced them to help you, watching their every move

It was only once your eyes fluttered open that his body relaxed

He quickly disposed of the other medic, immediately tending to you

But don't worry, Brahms would deal with the bodies and the ambulance later

He did it for you after all

Norman Bates

It was actually Norman's idea for you to go to the hospital in the first place

It wasn't like you to be dealing with a cold for this long, and he was beginning to get worried

He happily drove you there, patiently sitting in the waiting room as the doctor took you back to check you out

With a couple prescriptions (and a hefty payment) later, you were back at home with him, relaxing in bed

Norman made sure you always had some tea to drink and soup to eat throughout the night

He even ran the bath for you in hopes of opening your sinuses

He just seems like a normal, doting partner

But if the medicine doesn't seem to help soon, Norman supposes he may need to pay the doctor another visit...

Just to talk things over, of course

Billy Loomis

It's just a little cut, why do you need to go to the hospital?

You shouldn't have been playing with his knife in general

He told you it was dangerous

But he can take care of you himself, he's sure of it

But when he finds you gone just a few minutes later, he immediately becomes tense

Great

With a loud sigh and a few curse words later, Billy is out the door and driving after you

When he makes it to the hospital, he just storms inside

He ignores all the calls from staff to "come back" and to "not go in there"

He finds you talking with the doctor, a look of shock on your face

(You're not exactly sure how he knew which room you were in)

"Are we done here?" Billy grumbles

"You shouldn't be back here"

Billy rolls his eyes at the doctor

"Does it look like I give a shit?"

And with that he, grabs your hand and walks you out, being mindful of your bandaged arm

You're still not sure how you haven't received a bill from the hospital yet

In fact, you haven't heard back from the doctor at all in the past few days

Huh, weird

Stu Macher

Nothing about Stu is calm... ever

So the moment he realizes you aren't home at your normal time, he flips

Probably tries to call and text you numerous times

He even calls Billy who's like "how am I supposed to know??"

When you finally send a text back saying that you went to the doctor's, he quickly responds back saying he's coming to get you

He storms into the hospital like he owns the place, immediately asking the staff where you were

If any of them refuse, he gives them a wicked smile that makes them all uncomfortable

They give in quickly

Stu suddenly barges into your room asking "what's wrong" and "who hurt you?"

You almost laugh at his worry since all that happened was you falling due to being clumsy

He just sighs and shakes his head

"You should have called me"

Once you're all ready to go, he just walks out with you with your arm wrapped in his

He says goodbye to all the staff like nothing ever happened, but they all look a bit fearful

Eric Draven

After fighting with the flu for a good week, Eric decides he should take you to get checked out

Despite your protests, he insists he needs to take you and stay with you (just to make sure they hear you out and give you what you need)

Eric wouldn't hurt or threaten any of the hospital staff, but his presence alone is enough to make them feel intimidated

You're practically in and out within just 20 minutes

"That wasn't so bad, right?" he teased

You just give him a little shove

He pretty much dotes on you for the time being until you get better

Unlike most of the Slashers, Eric has no issues with you going to the occasional doctor's visit

He cares a great deal about your health and always wants what's best for you

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The House Guest 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Summary: an old acquaintance calls in a favour, leaving you with an unexpected house guest.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The speaker drones lowly, your playlist cycling through your most listened. You fall into your routine. You always liked cooking. It was always comforting. Your grandmother taught you all her favourite recipes whenever you came around. The familiar aromas bring back what can never truly be. 

You split the squash with a large knife, the thunk jarring you. You might not be the safest person in the kitchen but you’ve yet to do worse than a few nicks. You gut the seeds from inside and scoop in a heap of butter and brown sugar, then drizzle the rest with maple syrup. You’ll bake that while you work on the roast. 

The back door clatters and makes you flinch. Somehow, you almost forgot. That needling presence never really fades completely but you felt somewhat normal. 

You listen as Bucky lingers at the back door. He appears in the kitchen door as you look over. His grey jacket is streaked in dirt and his hands are similarly filthy. You give him a curious squint. 

“Got rid of that dead stump. Rot’s not good to keep around,” he explains. 

“Oh, right, you... wait? How did you do that? I was supposed to borrow Ian’s axe--” 

“Don’t need an axe,” he wiggles his vibranium fingers at you. “Gonna wash up. Anything I can help out with in here?” 

“Think I’m good,” you assure him, “I’m almost done.” 

“Mm, smells good,” he glances the pan of squash. 

“Hope so,” you reply. 

He watches you a moment before he turns away. His footsteps echo after him and fade into the soft music. You carry on, putting quartered onions and garlic cloves round the cut of meat. You baste and season, then put it all in the stove. 

You gather up the peels and seeds into your hands and head down the hall to toss it all in the compost. You get to the back door and clamour through, dumping it all into the barrel. You dust your hands off before you head inside. 

You didn’t notice the open door before. You’re slightly embarrassed as you glance over and catch Bucky lathering up his hands in the sink. You quickly flit away without another look. Oops. 

Cramped quarters are bound to get awkward but you hadn’t expected that sight. Bucky, shirtless, focused on his hands as he scrubbed away the dirt. You can see it vividly as you try not to think of it.  

The tortured flesh around his left shoulder, trimming the dark metal of his prosthetic, his other arm as hard as the other, firm and rounded with muscle. His chest full and just as taut, though his middle was softer. The little bit that stuck out over his pants and the extra layer of padding up his stomach filled him out, though there was strength woven into his entire body. 

You shake your head and swallow. You wipe down the counter and rinse off the used dishes and cutlery. You busy yourself and do your best to forget. 

You open the fridge and take out a bottle of sparkling water. You close it and nearly cry out as Bucky stands behind the door. He reaches up to grip the top of the fridge. He wears a fresh ribbed tank top, his arm flexing as he looms over you. 

“Mind grabbing me a beer, please and thanks.” 

“Uh, yeah, sorry,” you open the door again and take out a bottle of beer.  

“Sorry?” He echoes as the fridge closes with a nudge of your elbow, “for what?” 

“Um, nothing, just, didn’t hear you, I guess.” 

“Ah, so it’s not that Canadian thing you do?” 

“Canadian thing?” 

“You apologised for tripping earlier.” He shrugs as he accepts the beer. 

“Oh? Habit, maybe. I didn’t notice.” 

He chortles, “you know, I served with some Canadians. Good soldiers. They always show up.” 

“Wow, I... makes sense... my great grandfather served. Came back and drove a truck after,” you say. “My grandmother talked about him a lot but I was too young to remember him before he passed.” 

“Sorry,” he says, “ha, there I go, huh? Or is it eh?” You give him a look. He uncaps his beer and arches a brow. “What’s that for?” 

“What?” You wonder. 

“That look? Sam did say you could be a bit... never mind.” 

“He said I could be a bit what?” You twist of the plastic lid of your flavoured water. 

“Nothing, he always says shit, you know? Tells everybody I’m a grumpy old man. I’m old and I’m tired, not grumpy,” he insists as he leans on the counter and drinks his beer. As he does, he lifts his vibranium hand and picks at his thumb with the index. “Mm,” he pulls his lips off the neck, “you got a cuticle stick or something? This damn thing collects dirt like a broom.” 

“I might have something. Got Q-Tips,” you offer. 

“Whatever you got. I should probably clean this thing before dinner,” he says. 

“Sure, let me just go look.” 

You put your water down and squeeze past him. He doesn’t shy away, crowding you as you pass him. You don’t know if he’s just not paying attention or what.  

You go down to the bathroom and pull out the drawer. You wince as something rolls against the front. Shit. You really hope he wasn’t looking around already. You reach inside and take out the suction toy you shove it up your sleeve. Would he know what the silicon rose was? 

You search around and find a nail kit. You bought it thinking you were going to go camping but that never happened. Maybe next year. 

You dip into your room and tuck the silicon toy on the bookshelf then head back to the kitchen. You hand him the small case. “Brand new. You can keep it.” 

“Oh, uh, thanks,” he accepts it, wiggling it between his fingers, “I’ll just go... take care of this.” 

He drinks again from his beer and sidles through the doorway next to you. You slip through and retreat to the stove as warmth blooms around it. Is it the cooking that’s making you sweat or something else? 

[sexydoffyman]

Hi! So this is my first time requesting,, I have COD brain rot and I had this idea I thought you might like.

Forced proximity with Simon ghost Riley x male reader :D!!

If it’s spicy I’d absolutely love hair pulling and soft praise,, reader being bottom please! I don’t mind if it’s smut or not tho 🫶

IN THE TRUNK

navigation

genre: smut

A/N: Sup. I did the praise thing, but I couldn't find a way to add the hair-pulling. Enjoy! 🦆

You guys were on a mission together. Everything went well until it didn't. One of the soldiers got wounded and wasn't able to run. And with Ghost in charge of the mission, the rule "No man left behind" was never forgotten.

Ghost picked the wounded soldier up, but by that time, the enemy soldiers had caught up. Everyone scattered. Soon, there was no other option than to abort the mission.

Ghost commanded the team to run to the trucks that were hidden in a nearby forest. He threw the soldier to someone else and started looking for you. Hoping you were left unharmed.

He only met you a couple of days ago, but you caught his eye. You were an important asset to the team. You were smaller, so you could sneak around better and fit through places no one else could. You were also an amazing strategist and interrogator.

And for some reason, he couldn't take his eyes off you.

The way your smaller, flexible body moved when you dodged knife throws. The way you looked at him when everything was going exactly how it was supposed to go. The way you laid your head on his shoulder when you were exhausted.

You quickly found yourself messing with his pheromones. He felt like he needed to have you in his grasp and he didn't understand why. He wanted to touch you. He wanted to taste you. He wanted to make sure you are alright.

Your small size also resulted in you being a little slower than the others. He was aware of that, so he wasn't surprised when you had trouble catching up with the rest of the team.

He ran to you and picked you up bridal style. He ran fast even when carrying you. You being smaller helped him a lot since you were also lighter. He ran with you, seeing the last truck waiting for him and anyone else.

A few soldiers jumped into the car, and Ghost signaled the driver to start moving. The truck slowly took off as Ghost caught up with it, opening the trunk and jumping in it with you in his arms.

You closed the trunk from the inside. Ghost looked at you while gasping for air. You gave him a sweet smile knowing that the whole team is safe. "That damn smile." He thought. That damn smile that messed with him so much.

He squeezed into a slightly larger part of the trunk. You both look at each other awkwardly, not really knowing what to say. Ghost had his leg in front of him, managing to hide his erection. He would be really embarrassed if you caught him thinking like that about you.

The truck ran over a rather large speed bump. You were almost thrown at Ghost ending in your back smacked against his abs. You ended up being pushed into his lap by the way the truck moved.

There, you felt it. You felt the bulge in Ghost's pants. He wanted to get you off him to avoid being embarrassed even more. Instead, he grabbed your waist and pushed you closer to him. He knew the truck would still be moving rather roughly, and he didn't want you to get injured.

When the ride calmed down again you looked at him. "Don't talk about it." He almost barked out. "Being distracted like this won't do you any good in the field, sir." "Would you want me to help you out?"

He was blushing hard under his mask. "Sergeant, I am in no way attracted to you." He said defensively. "Then why are still holding me?" You questioned. He would think that you were teasing him, but your innocent eyes made him realize that you were genuine.

He sighed "Pants down, sergeant!" He commanded. "You're lucky these trunks are soundproof." He muttered against your neck. You slipped your pants down to your thighs he followed your movements.

"You sure you can take this?" He asked, grabbing your hips with the hand that was over you. "Yes, sir!" You answered and adjusted your body so he could slide his other arm under you and push you closer to his chest.

He didn't wait a second when he got an agreement out of you and thrusted his dick straight into your ass. You gave out a little whimper. He grabbed your chin to look away from him. You wondered why he did that only to feel his lips on your neck.

He took off his mask to kiss you.

Your stomach filled with butterflies as he started thrusting into you roughly. With each thrust, you let out a whimper. He stretched you out so good. "Good boy... keep... making those sounds." He stuttered struggling.

He didn't know it would feel so good. He just had to make sure you knew how happy he was. "You are such a good boy for me sergeant." "You feel so good." He was bruising your neck as he sucked on the skin.

He started hitting your prostate head-on which made you switch from whimpering to moaning. That made him go feral. He could feel himself getting close to seeing stars. He thrusted last time into you and filled you with his cum.

He didn't want to leave you unfinished, since you did so good. He grabbed your dick jerking it off until you came into his hand.

You both panted trying to catch your breaths. "Sergeant!" "Yes, sir?" "Just letting you know if I'm ever distracted again, I'll go straight to you."

You chuckled knowing that you signed up for a hell of a ride.

[redfoxwritesstuff]

A Misdemeanor Of The Heart: Chapter 27 (Human!Alastor x Married!Reader)

CW: Laurence just... existing, references to corporal punishment and child abuse, sneakin a peek and too cramped train cars.

An: Y'all made it to the eye of the storm- the vacation!

Prev Masterlist AO3 KoFi

Excitement thrummed through your body as you checked your bag yet again. It wasn’t large, but it was enough to hold a few pairs of clothes and your night clothes. At the bottom, you had your swimsuit and your red cloak hidden, wrapped around the stack of notes Alastor had left under the tree, hoping the risk wouldn’t cost you everything. 

There was no choice but to leave the hatbox behind, tucked under the steps as far back as you could push it with the broom handle. The odds were against Laurence finding it and yet; you were terrified he would. At least the letters and the cloak would be safe with you. 

The letters were the most incriminating. If you had any sense left in your head, you would have burned them by now. You were supposed to have. It was just more than you could bring yourself to do. You couldn’t risk the words of love being found, even if Alastor signed them with nothing more than a stylized A. 

It had been days since you had seen Alastor last, though in letters he had assured you he had everything arranged and was ready to go. You knew the plan like the back of your hand, though there wasn’t much to it. He would find you on the train. You didn’t need to worry about a thing. He would take care of everything for you. 

“You coming down, honey?” Laurence yelled up the stairs. Of course, he wouldn’t come up and help you carry your bag. That was far more care than your husband would spare for you in the confines of your home. 

“Coming,” you called back, attempting to keep your voice sweet and light as you closed the bag and pulled it from your bed. Though you were not eager to return to Laurence’s side, you rushed from the room and down the stairs. 

“It took you long enough,” he grumbled as you scurried across the living space toward the front door. 

“I’m sorry, darling.” You forced a smile to your lips. Only as the front door opened did Laurence grab your bag from your hand. 

It wouldn’t do him any good to have witnessed see you carrying the bag yourself. He would help you if it just meant that he wouldn’t have to deal with rumors. It felt like a small knife stabbed into your chest, twisting ever so slightly as you realized he didn’t care about you. 

“Get in,” Laurence said, as he put your bag in the truck. 

His order set the tone for the drive to the train station. Tension was thick in the air, daring you to say the wrong thing and set him off. Instead of risking his anger, you simply sat, watching the world move by with your lips clamped shut. 

Laurence parked the car in front of the train station, taking his time rounding to your door to open it for you. Unlike when Alastor did it, there was no care beyond that of appearances in Laurence’s actions. He hauled your bag out of the back and carried it for you, ever so dutifully, as he led you through the station. 

A picture perfect husband for his picture perfect wife that he was running around on. Did it matter? You were running around on him too, after all. 

Anxiety ran through you. Most everything you had done until now, you could pretend, was a friendship. You could claim it was accidental, or that you were swept up in a moment. 

What you were preparing to do was far more than that. This was a deliberative act of infidelity.

Laurence waited on the platform with you for the train. It took everything in you to take part in the idle chat that made up the song and dance of appearances while he stood, arm around your waist. 

You wished he would leave so you could at least look for Alastor. 

Nothing to see here, you thought as you looked at young couples walking hand in hand. Just the joy of marriage. Just a loving husband seeing off his darling wife. There were no bruises to be seen, hidden under the heavy, out of style dress. No nights spent cowering as he loomed over you, red faced and yelling. No blood. No split lips, healing but covered with lipstick.

You hadn’t managed to lay eyes on your secret love when the train rolled to a stop, doors opening. Worry ate at you, telling you that you were a fool. You were going to end up just where you said you were going, family not there to meet you at the station because it was all a lie. 

You forced it down. Turning to Laurence, you offered your goodbyes, sweet and routine- just as anyone would expect to overhear. He wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you to him as he kissed your lips softly. 

Bile rolled in your stomach as you suffered through the affection, just another show put on for those who may be watching before you could step onto the train. Just a few more minutes and then you would be free from him for days. 

His arms fell from you as you stepped back, a smile on your face. “I should get going.” 

“Have a safe trip,” Laurence said. 

Just like that, you were free to step onto the train. Finally, you could look around for Alastor but you did not find him. Surely, he would be easy to spot? He wasn’t exactly the shortest man in the city. 

Just as the doors were closing, you saw his towering form slip through the opening. His eyes found you in no time at all, a smile lighting up his face. In a few short heartbeats, he crossed the car and was at your side for the first time in what felt like forever. 

Your arms itched to wrap around him, but it would be too risky. Instead, you whispered a performative pleasantry, the same as you had done with your husband. This time, it covered a deep well of love instead of burning hate. 

“We’ll get off at the next town,” Alastor whispered in your ear. “I’ve got tickets for the next train, private cabin. Until then, we have to be careful.” 

“Okay,” you whispered back. 

“I’ll move back toward the rear, but I’ll be able to see you if you need me. Next town, you get off the front and I’ll get off the rear. We meet on the platform.” The command in his soft voice relaxed you. He had a plan. He would watch out for you. You would be safe. 

You nodded, not wanting to draw attention to yourself. Alastor ran his hand across the small of your back as he made his way back, trying to find a seat in the crowded car. He was more annoyed that Laurence couldn’t have sprung for a nicer car for you, subjecting both of you to the crowded passenger car than he was with the fellow passengers themselves. 

It was almost an hour before the train rolled to a lumbering stop at the next town. You took a deep breath, confidently making your way off the car and onto the platform. Your heart beat hard in your chest, nerves screaming at you that you had risked too much until you saw Alastor step off as well, bag in hand. 

He made a show of stretching long limbs as the train pulled away. No one else had gotten off at the station with the two of you, leaving you standing alone with him on the dusty platform. 

Though you were alone with the man you loved, you had to remind yourself you were still very much in public. Every fiber in your being screamed at you to run to him, to wrap your arms around him and kiss him. 

Alastor held his hand out for you after checking the time on his watch, urging you to join him at his side. 

“Our train will be here in about fifteen minutes,” he said as he weaved his fingers through yours, pulling the back of your hand to his lips for a sweet kiss. It was a subtle move, one that would not raise eyebrows, and yet it was a risk just the same. 

“Where are we going?” You asked, still fighting to resist the urge to wrap your arms around him. Propriety still mattered to a degree. Alastor was well enough known that he could still be recognized. The last thing you wanted to do was to cause him trouble. 

“It’s a surprise,” Alastor said as he slung your bag and his over your shoulder along with his own. 

Alastor had sprung for a private cabin. It wasn’t as luxurious as a private car, but that didn’t matter. It was a vast improvement from the cramped car Laurence had booked for you. 

You stood, shocked, in the small room that made up the cabin. The thought and care in his booking touched your heart, more so knowing the background he had come from. This was no gift worth disregarding. It was far more than you deserved for all the trouble and expense he was already going through. 

As the door slid shut behind him, Alastor’s arms wrapped around your waist, easing the worry and guilt from your mind in an instant. It felt amazing to be in his arms again, surrounded by the warmth and scent of him. It soothed your soul. Closing your eyes, you leaned into him for a moment. This was what made everything you had gone through worth it. 

“I missed you,” he whispered in your ear, fingers reaching up to tilt your jaw, turning your head to look at him. As soon as you did, he placed a soft, chaste kiss on your lips, back protecting you from the view of anyone walking by in the hall. 

“I missed you too,” you said as his lips left yours. 

It had all been worth it. 

With trembling fingers, you pulled your wedding ring from your finger. You were terrified that you’d lose it, but that fear was far outweighed by how much you didn’t want to wear the mark of another man’s ownership of you while you spent your weekend indulging in your affair. 

It was a crime, a misdemeanor if you were lucky, though it might be a felony if the police wished to push it, if you got caught with your lover. It didn’t matter to you anymore. You had tried to do the right thing, tried to put the thing between you to bed and you couldn’t. 

If you were too weak to do the right thing, at least you were doing the wrong thing with the man you loved. 

“We should change our clothes,” Alastor said as he watched you drop your wedding band into your coin purse. It was a safe place for it. He was determined to see to it you had no reason to open it again during this weekend. “Just to be on the safe side.” 

“Where?” you asked, turning to him in time to see him pull down the privacy screen on the door window. 

“Here,” Alastor said, opening your bag for you before opening his. “Face away and I’ll change first.” 

Alastor didn’t wait to pull the bowtie from his neck and start working the buttons of his shirt free. He had tossed his coat to the seat as he had stepped into the car and before you kicked your brain into gear, his chest was slowly slowing between the unbuttoned halves of his shirt. 

You turned with a squeak that earned you a chuckle from him. Face aflame with shame, you found yourself frozen in place. Much to your horror, when you finally raised your eyes from the bench, you found a mirror on the cabin wall, reflecting the sight you had just turned away from back at you. 

You should look away. You knew it was the proper thing to do. It wasn’t right to stare, and it was even less right to do so without him being aware. You couldn’t help it though, as his nimble fingers undid the rest of his shirt and he shucked it off his broad shoulders. 

His torso was toned, though you couldn’t get a good view of his chest as he turned toward his bag. He was lean, but far from lacking muscle. You selfishly watched as muscles flexed and bunched as be moved, balling the worn shirt up before turning to stuff it in his bag and grab a fresh one. 

Your fingers rested against your lips as to stifle the gasp. His back was a maze of scars, thin and cutting through the warm tan of the skin. It was clearly not self inflicted nor was it accidental harm that befell him. It pained your heart, seeing the evidence of what he had experienced. 

Your parents, while strict, were not ones for physical punishment. It wasn’t that you were unaware of the fact that many parents used physical methods of discipline, you just hadn’t seen it personally. Facing the reality of the harsh treatment Alastor had received as a boy made your heart hurt for him. 

The way he spoke of his mother, you were sure she wasen’t responsible for the marks. There was no way someone as kind and sweet as he made her out to be could have done that. It left his father as the likely culprit. 

The muscles of his back flexed and twitched as he pulled his arm through one sleeve. You watched, something stirring inside you, as he reached behind him and pulled his dark marron shirt around him and worked his arm into the other sleeve. 

You forced yourself to look away as he shrugged it on, turning your face to look out the car window instead of in the mirror as you tried to calm that feeling in your core. It was the same feeling you got when you thought of his hands on your skin, the way his kiss felt against your lips and when his hand trailed down, lower.

You shook your head and willed the throughs away. Indecent. Improper. Easy. Whorish. If being those things meant being with Alastor, maybe they were not such bad things to be.

Alastor glanced over his shoulder, smile wide as he glanced at your face. You were working very hard to pretend you had been looking out of the window the whole time, but you didn’t fool him. Even if he hadn’t glimpsed you watching in the mirror, the flush dusting your cheeks told him everything he needed to know. 

“Your turn,” Alastor said, turning to face you, smile wide as he walked to the car window. “I’ll stand right here so you can watch me. Make sure I don’t peek.” He hesitated for a moment. “I took the liberty of buying you a dress. It’s in my bag. I wasn’t sure of your tastes, but I thought maybe you’d want something different.”

“So I don’t get recognized?” you asked, timidly picking through his bag, worried you’d see something he hadn’t wanted you to see. Going through a man’s bag was strangely intimate, just one more thing you’d do with Alastor that would be used as evidence against you if you were ever caught. 

“That too,” Alastor spoke, facing the window, keeping his face forward, “But also, in case you didn’t wish to wear something from home when we get there.”

“Thank you,” you whispered as you pulled out a dark pink dress, almost red. It was simple but pretty and well made.

“You’re welcome.” Alastor said softly, keeping his eyes pointed at the passing landscape. 

You hesitated for a moment before working the buttons free on the front of your dress, letting it fall slack around you. If you turned your back to him, you wouldn’t feel so shy, but you’d have to trust him to not steal a look. At least facing him, you would know if he did.

What if he did? Was that so wrong? He had had his hands in your most private places. Did it matter if he saw you in your slip? What did it matter when you were running away for a weekend together? What if you wanted him to? Would he find your form as pleasing as you had found him to be?

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you slipped into the dress, working the zipper up your back. As it reached behind your shoulders, you struggled to inch the zipper higher or grab it from above. 

“Alastor?” you meekly asked, holding the front of the dress securely to your chest. 

“Are you done?” he asked, voice soft and lacking any trace of impatience. 

“I- I need help,” you stuttered out. “I can’t reach the zipper to get it all the way.”

“Are you decent?” He asked, waiting for your confirmation before he turned. Oh, how pretty the flush on your face was as you clutched the front of the dress to you. Was this the feeling you had while you snuck a peek at him in the mirror? 

Two long strides brought him in front of you. You were frozen, looking into his warm eyes. You struggled to remember to breathe. Thoughts seemed lost in a fog. 

“Are you going to turn around?” Alastor asked, leaning in slightly, testing to see what you’d do. You had been leaning into him slightly before gasping, turning quickly with a squeak. 

Alastor’s chuckle filled your ears as you felt his breath wash over your exposed back. Strong hands grabbed the fabric and tugged the ends together. The zipper sounded loud in your ears as he sent it along the rest of its track. Then he smoothed his hands down the sides of your arms. 

“You look beautiful, ma chéri.” 

Turning in his arms, you couldn’t help but to look down. The intensity of his gaze, the warmth of his voice, was too much for you. Alastor placed a soft kiss just below your ear, his breath caressing down your neck and shoulder as he worked his way down your jaw. 

Gasping, you couldn’t help but melt in his arms, turning your head to his urging until his lips met yours. It was sweet, unhurried, as your lips moved together, tasting each other. His fingers splayed along your neck, thumb rubbing your jaw as his other hand rested on your hip. 

You didn’t know when it happened but your hands rested against his chest, feeling the soft fabric of his marron shirt, darker than the red of your dress by a lot and yet still somehow matching. It declared you as his, at least for the time being. 

You never wanted to separate from him, to change a thing, but he pulled back slowly. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that since I laid eyes on you,” he whispered. 

“So have I,” you whispered back. 

The train arrived with a rumble after a few hours, jostling you from where you laid in Alastor’s arms, dozing softly. It hadn’t been your intention to fall asleep, but somehow conversation lulled and the rumble of the tracks under the wheels saw you relaxed too much in the soft, warm embrace of the man you loved. It was a blessing you couldn’t have dared dream of, to know the peace of falling asleep in his arms. 

Alastor sat up along with you, wrapping his arms around your waist tighter as he allowed his head to rest on your shoulder for a moment before stretching. “We’re here,” he whispered in your ear. 

“Where’s here?” You hadn’t thought to ask until now.

“Marksville,” he said with a shrug. “It’s a small coastal town frequented by young lovers. We spotlighted it on the show a few months ago. I booked us a little villa just off the beach.” 

The beauty of the town surprised you as the taxi rolled through it. It was small and cute, with little buildings and planters full of blooming flowers. It didn’t seem to have much to offer, not when you were used to the excitement of the city, though you rarely got to indulge in it. 

“There’s an amusement park,” Alastor said, pointing to the boardwalk down the road from where the taxi was stopping. “I thought perhaps we’d go tomorrow?” 

“I’d love to.” You felt like you were floating in a dream. Perhaps your husband finally did damage to your brain. Perhaps he had finally killed you. Either way, you didn’t want to wake up and return to the misery of your marriage. 

You’d stay in this dream for as long as you could. 

Alastor carried your bag and his while you tried to fight down the butterflies threatening to erupt from your stomach. He led you down the beach. He held your hand in his while he talked about the town. It was facts he had learned and recited for his broadcast, but in truth, he was just filling the air while you looked at him like he had hung the moon and stars. 

“With the short timing, I’m not exactly sure which villa we’ve gotten,” Alastor admitted as you and he approached the door to the small standalone building. Each had enough distance between it and the next to ensure that guests had ample privacy. “I hope you like it.” 

“I’m sure it’ll be lovely,” you whispered as he unlocked the door. 

It was a simple villa comprising a living space and a modern bathroom. The villa had been updated, electricity and plumbing ran throughout, but there was no kitchen. Instead, there was a small icebox and a firepit out front. It was clear that most of the guests would eat out during their stay. 

Alastor led the way in, tugging you inside and closing the door to the outside world before setting your bags to the ground. He explored as you trailed behind him. The bathroom was simple but not cramped, much like the living space. Opening the closed door, there was a single bedroom housing a single wide bed. 

“I’ll take the couch,” Alastor said simply, without a moment of hesitation. Looking between him and the couch, you knew he wouldn’t fit comfortably in the slightest. 

“No, you won’t.” Your hand trembled lightly as you reached out for him, preparing to walk across yet another line that couldn’t be taken back. “There’s enough room for both of us.” 

“Darling,” Alastor turned, wrapping you up in his arms as he leans down, kissing the tip of your nose. “I do not wish to push you into anything you’re not comfortable or ready for.” 

“It’s my idea,” you challenged. 

“We’ll see how you feel tonight,” Alastor offered. “And if you change your mind at any time, even in the middle of the night, I go to the couch. No questions asked. Alright?” 

“Alright,” you agreed after a moment. 

“Good!” Alastor chuckled, dropping his arms from around you only to take your hand in his again, “Shall we go find something to eat? There should be some food stalls along the beach.” 

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers including the first page of the next chapter of MisD a day early!!

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[trashmouth-richie]

Eddie x Fem! Reader

master list

w/c: 7k

A/N: this chapter is a little bit shorter than the last few but I hope you enjoy it regardless! huge s/o to @blueywrites + @jo-harrington for beta reading and helping me with parts ♥️

tw: 18+ no minors, depression, acts of depression, drinking excessively etc

Granules of brown sugar melt against heaping creamed rolled oats, nestled into the crisp white second hand vitrelle made Corelle brand bowls. The pattern of dainty brown flowers skim around the outer surface, one that Eddie is now rubbing softly with the pad of his thumb. 

He had never noticed them before this very moment. The guitar string callouses skid along the cool surface of the bowl. The familiar feel reminded him of the soft skin on your back as he held you while you slept, strumming along your body to the tired tunes of your breathing.

A song he’d listen to forever if he could. 

Eddie found himself noticing many new things he hadn't noticed before in the early daylight hours of the morning. He didn’t want to stir you, didn’t want to disrupt the beautiful sleepy angel next to him. Wrapping you tighter against him, pressing light kisses to your hairline, he soaked up the warmth of your skin against him. Drinking in your smooth breathing and matching it to his own. 

Fluttering heart beating wildly in his own chest, he can’t believe you are here with him. Last night felt too good to be true. All these months of lonely pining, unsure if you felt the same, only for it to be true that you wanted him as much as he had wanted you.

He was elated, heart overflowing and spewing candy hearts from his eyes and mouth at the weight of your body tucked into him, fitting like a glove against the bend in his arm. 

He was head over heels for you. 

A wave of assurance washed over him when he woke this morning and found you curled in on yourself, the cotton sheets wrapped tight up under your chin, slack lips open and your eyelashes laid sweetly against your cheeks. A breath of relief leaves his muscles— you’re still here. 

The rise and fall of your naked form when he pulled ypu into his side had him breathless upon first opening his eyes this morning. The sunlight basking through peaks in his bedroom curtains and providing enough light for the dust mites to dance their daylight waltz amongst the stuffy air and crowded surfaces in Eddie’s room. 

Cotton sheets dipped into your curves. The smooth skin of your cheek pressed into his own chest. The steady whirring noise of your breathing in and out of your nose with your lips closed delicately.  

Beautiful. Radiant. A thousand other adjectives he could use to describe you but there was only one he wanted to call you: his. 

The toaster erupts with a metallic clunk, bringing him back from his day dreaming and focusing again at the task at hand. 

Grabbing a knife from the silverware drawer, he smears cold butter against the warm toast, the knife scraping gently as the warm crusted pockets flood with butter and sweet grape jelly.

He finds himself daydreaming again. He pictures the corner of your lips coated in jelly, he’d reach forward and brush his finger against it, maybe his lips would kiss the crumbs away. You’d giggle at his stupidity and he’d melt like the butter into this toast at your warm smile. 

You were perfect. Everything he had wanted and more. And years of being friends, then enemies, then roommates and now lovers. He was giddy, stomach filled with snowflake flurries resembling a winter storm. 

He balanced the bowls of oatmeal in large hands, the toast cut in diagonals and stuffed like rabbit ears into the cooked oats. A pep in his step, he practically floated to his room, back to you, snug in his sheets, his pillows. He’s carried by the wings of the butterflies in his stomach. 

A tickle on your cheek has your eyelids fluttering slow, the cool feel of unfamiliar sheets twisted by your chin have you jumping in your skin, but the warm velvet voice in your ear whispering good morning greetings and a peck against your ear tames your heart and softens the goosebumps on your skin. 

The same calloused palms that held you in a protective manner last night now gently stroke the underside of your chin in a lazy pattern. Up the rounds of your cheeks, and circling the plump of your lips. Eddie’s hands are unusually warm against your skin, the heat from the bowls hot on his palms.

The mattress bends beneath his weight as he sits with one leg on the bed and leans on a hip over you. The bourbon colored ends of his curls sweep feather-like against your bare chest, like the white tufty pappus of a dandelion head.

You titter softly when his lips slide down your neck and blow a softened raspberry against your skin. 

“Good morning, baby,” he sighs beneath your ear. The pearls of his teeth graze your neck because he can’t stop smiling. The silk of your hands wrap around his arms, fingers gliding over the carve of his muscles. And your eyes finally flutter open. 

A halo of sunlight breaches his frizzy curls and pull every bit of amber from them, his smile cozy and familiar the warmth seeping through you as his blackened honey eyes drink you in.  

His eyes trail your sleepy features, caressing your skin with each slow drag across your face. Taking in every inch of you he can. 

“Sleep okay?” he purrs gently, planting a rose petal kiss on your lips. 

Last night was perfect, everything you had hoped for and more. 

You didn’t know sex could be so intimate, so passionate.  Feeling how much he cared about you with every kiss, every touch of his molten fingers on your skin. He gave you the love and adoration you had yearned for. And it felt good. 

So, so good. 

Something that delicious should be enjoyed again and again. An indulgence, a finger swiping into the edge of a frosted cake for temptation deemed too strong. But unlike the taste of frosting melting away on your tongue, craving more and wanting another taste, you couldn’t. 

Peering into his eyes, you can see how much he loved you. But the feeling sat sour on your tongue, and burned your belly in a lonely way.

But why? 

You could push through this right?

Didn’t you want this?

Want him?

Heart hammering for Eddie, all green flags and sticky love, kicking feet and giddy heated cheeks, but your brain was screaming another sound, ringing bells of unworthiness loud in your ears. 

You don’t deserve him. 

His love won’t last. 

A quick smile that doesn’t reach your eyes implants on your lips. Insecurity is evident among them when the twinkle of love is replaced by dark brooding agony. And if Eddie sees it he is blinded to it. So wrapped up in bubbly love for you he thought you hung the stars. 

The way his brown eyes are gazing at you hurts your heart. Before hot tears can fall down your cheeks you blink rapidly. Wells of salt stinging in your eyes as you swallow them down. 

Answering his question in a hushed almost whisper, you push yourself up on his mattress, clutching the sheet around your chest, suddenly aware of how naked you are. Bare beneath the sheets a once welcomed coziness now feels like shards of glass embedded into your skin. 

Your knees tuck up beneath your chest, in a small attempt to shield yourself more from the man you wanted to love but couldn’t. 

Eddie is all adoring dimples and pinked cheeks. His voice is laced with flowing sweet words of pleasantries. He places a pillow behind your back, so you can be comfy,. 

The act cracking your heart deeper waiting to be split like the thin shell on a peanut m&m. 

“I didn’t ask, but do you like oatmeal?” 

You’ve never known a single smile burrowing into your soul deeper than his does. But it aches and burns. Nose tingling bringing up another wave of tears, you simply nod, you wipe your eyes hastily with the back of your hand as Eddie turns and grabs the bowls. Oblivious to your turmoil. 

He brings the warm bowl of oatmeal to the bed and places it in your hands. Jelly having slid down the toast and snuggling with the brown sugar and oatmeal. Joining you on the bed Eddie sits beside you, his long legs stretched out in front of him as you sit shoulder to shoulder.   

You don’t deserve him. 

His love won’t last. 

Lead filled arms hold the metal spoon to your lips, a warmth in your mouth that has no taste. For you are not hungry. The beast inside spreading its ferocious wings and sucking any amount of joy from you. 

But he said he loved me. 

He doesn’t. Don’t fool yourself. 

Staring ahead you are trapped in your mind. A hostage to your demons. The sunshine of happiness is replaced with heavy thunderstorm clouds of acidic rain, eating away your insides like maggots on a carcass. 

Eddie is talking between mouthfuls of his breakfast but you don’t hear him. The words unable to make sense against your ears as you stir your spoon around and around the bowl. A hypnotizing motion. 

Unaware of the state you are in, Eddie is floating high on cloud nine. A pinky cheeked cherub shooting arrows of lust below him. He’s giddy and cheerful, a light of beckoning hope next to your brooding steel trapped mind. 

He’s too good for you. 

The voices shout louder in your ears and you fight tears away. 

Just another notch on his belt, silly Tooty. 

Run, before he does. 

“Sweetheart?” your breathing is erratic and complacent. Sweat is trickling down your hairline. Wet beads in the space behind your ears and forming on your upper lip.

Run. 

Choking down the bile of panic cradled in your throat, you croak a smile. “Sorry, what?” 

-

The rest of breakfast is void of noise besides the ominous clinking of spoons against bowls and the gulping slide of oatmeal down Eddie’s throat. Chewing your toast to humor him you still taste nothing, barely registering your teeth are grinding together against themselves until Eddie asks if you’re alright. 

Fine, you lie, easy on your tongue, the forced smile is harder, painful. Settling an unease in your bones that creaks and groans like a worn porch door batting against the frame in a windstorm. 

Pulling hard to untuck the sheet from the one corner of Eddie’s bed that didn’t manage to come undone during the passion of last night, you wrap it around you fully, and scoot down the length of his mattress. The walk of shame gown held tight in your grip. Doubling as a shield of comfort around you, a flannel sheet of armor. 

Not announcing where you are going in fear of breaking, you scamper from the room, quick feet on the carpet and shivering in the cool air on your shoulders. Eddie’s hot desperate eyes burrowing into your back as you lock the bathroom door. 

He’s everywhere in this house, and your mind is suffocating. Lungs punched of any oxygen as you struggle to stand using the knob as a crutch. 

What makes you think you’re deserving of his kindness?

The daunting demonic voice laughs mercilessly in your head, bouncing off the pinked brain matter and echoing lol against the hollow marble of your skull, scribbling along it in permanent marker. 

Unworthy 

Undeserving

Hot tears stream down your cheeks and you shed the cloak of flannel armor, reaching for the silver knob of the shower and turning it to the hottest temperature the small water heater will allow. 

The stream of the scalding water sears your back like steak in a skillet, you welcome the burn with open arms. 

Thinking of Eddie’s doting and how sweet he was to you made your stomach splinter. All he was doing was exactly what you had hoped for, wished for, stayed up long nights aching for. 

But it wasn’t simple. 

You were terrified. Scared shitless of his love for you. But you knew Eddie and you knew he loved big, and cared in ways that most people couldn't fathom. 

Hot water rolls down the front of your shoulders and flows over your softened nipples, mixed with salty tears. 

The tears only stop when there’s a soft knuckled bang on the door. 

His endearing voice is small against the closed door, “hey babe?” 

You don’t answer. Unable to free your mind from the double hell of feeling inadequate and petrifying anxiety of being loved by someone you can’t love back. 

But you do love him. 

You always have in one way or another.. even when you shouldn’t have. You did. 

But the overwhelming feeling of his affection is too much, you don’t know how to feel, or act. Not as if Chad ever made you feel loved. Somehow the feeling of being loved is almost the same crushing feeling of being choked out. 

Because you’re not good enough. 

You don’t deserve him. 

The bathroom door opens and Eddie’s calm voice breaks through the void. Makes its way through the silent sobs that are causing your body to shake violently. 

His shadow is blurred against the shower curtain. Coy hands peel the cream plastic and blue fabric away slightly, opening the threshold to the shower and the steam rolling out, thick in his vision. 

“Tooty?” 

Back to first names. 

Back to the basics. 

Eddie wasn’t an idiot. He knew something was wrong. And he had spent the last ten minutes walking back and forth along the carpet, wracking his brain. Pulling his hair in frustration when tears stung his eyes and collected like puddles in his lashes.  

Trying to figure out the solution to a problem he didn’t have the equation for. 

No one did. 

This was a fight within yourself, solving for x when Eddie barely passed basic algebra. Nobody could fix this.

Broken goods, sold at a discount and marked down. 

Trash. 

When you don’t answer he says your name a smidge louder. Reaching his fingers out to touch your shoulder and almost breaking on the spot when you coil away from him. 

His touch once so protective and undeniably reassuring in your blood now threatens to make you react with bared teeth and steel eyes. 

But you refrain, pushing yourself further away from him. Deeper into your sorrows of a life of despair, a valley of dread. 

Relentless, Eddie won’t give up easy. His voice is meek and breaking with each cold shoulder of avoidance you offer. 

You’re nothing. 

“Baby,” he pleads, a tear running down his cheek, collecting in the column of his throat. “Talk to me.” 

His cheeks return to normal color, his eyes don’t dance with twinkles, the corners of his mouth turn flat. He's beside himself. 

The voices deepens now, roaring loudly like a river. A familiar tone. One that has terrified you for almost a decade, Chad. 

You think someone could love you like me? Better than me? 

Take it, fucking whore. 

Yeah, cry for me. 

“No.” 

Eddie’s brows turn inward. Concern painting his face. “Tooty?” 

Who would want you? 

You’re nothing. 

A hand on your shoulder makes your spine twinge with icy cold resentment causing you to flinch unexpectedly, shivering away from him. A wounded animal, protecting yourself. 

“I said, no!” 

When you turn to face him you are met with wet eyes, and the saddest expression you’d ever had the displeasure of seeing. 

One that would bury itself in your mind and haunt you at night. More horrifying than a scary movie because it was real, right before your eyes. 

Eddie doesn’t give you time to think before he twists his mouth into a question, “what’s going on? What did I do?” 

This is not a conversation you want to have. You can’t. 

Plain and simple. 

“Leave me alone,” you beg, salt in the skinned wound. You turn the water off and shove past him, your warm wet skin sliding against his dry bare chest. 

Unlovable 

Undeserving Tooty. 

The terry fibers of your robe cocoon you in a hug. And you’re reminded of the memories this fabric holds. The first night Eddie had moved in, and him wearing it with pride. 

The night he defended you against the twins, when you were piss drink and he wrapped you up tightly to cover you up. 

He was a good man. 

And you were a bitch. 

An unlovable shrewd, forcing someone to open up and then cutting them off because you couldn’t handle the thought of someone loving you when you couldn’t love yourself. 

You deserved what Chad did to you. 

Eddie is talking a million miles an hour trying to explain himself as you leave him in the bathroom. His throat aches from swallowing back tears and his heart is breaking. 

Turning in a swift jerk of your head you face him when he begs you to look at him. 

“Please, goddamnit please just talk to me. Help me understand what I did wrong!” 

“There’s nothing to understand Eddie! We fucked! So what? No big deal.” It was the biggest lie you’d told yourself. It was a big deal. It meant everything to you, but you couldn’t do this. 

He’s stunned, mouth hung open and his pink bottom lip starts to quiver. The same lips that kissed you so delicately and made you cum so hard it was like the Fourth of July behind your eyelids. 

Not having any of it, his sadness turns to anger on the drop of a dime, his shaky lip flipped to a snarl, “Don’t you dare do this, don’t you dare turn this around as just some one night stand bullshit.” His eyes search your face for any tell on a sick joke. But he knows you better than that.  

He can’t contain the fueling rage inside of him and he almost shouts in your face. “I know what it meant to you!”

“Really?” you voice in a shaky tone, crossing your arms across your chest in a manner that suggests you couldn’t give a single fuck about his feelings, but barely below the surface you were screaming for help. “If you got all the answers then enlighten me.” 

His voice is softer, gentler. He timidly reaches out to hold your clothed shoulders, the tips of his fingertips grip them softly, thumbs rubbing small circles. Hoping his touch could bring you back to him, bring back the angel from his dreams and coax you out from this hellish nightmare he had fallen into. 

 “Don’t act like this baby, please.” 

Your head hangs in defeat and you’re ready to give up. A sigh escapes you and he lifts your chin with a ringed finger. He licks his lips and he says the three words you couldn’t hear. 

The three small words that confirmed the anxiety in your chest and made your heart crumble. And it kills you. 

It kills you to hear the words come from the man you’ve been yearning for.

It kills you to know you won’t ever be able to say them back to him. Even though you’re dying to.

And it kills you to know you don’t deserve to hear those words from him. 

His fingers feel like talons against your shoulders and you're caught in his grasp. A hawk swooping to catch a field mouse. You can practically feel the blood pouring from your skin by his nails through the robe. The sharpness squeezing your lungs and attacking your mind. 

And like a bullet from a gun, you fire back. With hateful words and a dead tone, fire lit behind your pupils and your caged self inside of them begging to be let out. Begging to be let free and loved by Eddie. Slapping his hands away from you, you pull away from him, your back hitting the wall with a thud, the same wall you leaned on last night when he kissed you for the first time. 

The word is final. And so full of venom it feels like poison on your lips. 

“Don’t.” 

Wounded like an animal he defends himself. His slapped hands are red and stinging as he hangs them limply at his side. He shakes his head and his lips glow with how hard he’s pressing them together. 

“Tell me I don’t mean anything to you,” he yells, hurt and unable to contain his building desperate pleas to win you back, “Go ahead! Use your words Tooty. Tell me last night meant nothing to you.”  

He’s a fiend for your poisoned drug and you are his dealer, giving him what he wants, directly to his vein of choice. The veil of hatred falling in your vision and coating your stone still features. A single tear welled into your eyes. Falling the exact time you tell him words you knew weren’t at all true. 

“It meant nothing to me.” 

He chuckles in a hurt tone trying desperately to hide his own tears, a sick smirk of dismay is displayed on his quivering lips. And he’s fighting like hell to stay standing on two feet. 

“So now what? Huh?” His voice breaks and he clears his throat, hands on his hips and looking towards the popcorn ceiling, desperately blinking tears back, and once they’re hiding again he nods his head forward, one last attempt to have you break with him. To admit you were lying to yourself. 

Crossing his arms he’s trying not to shake with fury and grief. Through gritted teeth he misters up enough courage to ask you something he doesn’t wanna hear the answer to.

“Tell me what you want since you’re so big and brave. Don’t be a coward now sweetheart, tell me what you want.” 

You almost vomit on the spot. But choke it down long enough to spill the last lie from your pretty lips.

The nail in the coffin. The big finale. 

“I want… you to leave.” 

—

JANUARY 

It took three hours and all the boys from Corroded Coffin to help Eddie move his things out. He took a few days off from work to get his affairs in order. Filling out the proper paperwork to change his address back to the light blue trailer in Forest Hills for the time being. 

You weren’t home when it happened. He had made sure of it. 

When you closed your eyes at night you could still hear slam of metal connecting to metal when he slammed his van door and the crunch of ice and snow beneath his van tires as he sped away. 

You didn’t cry anymore when Metallica played on the radio. And nobody but you knew that every glass you had owned had been shattered against the front door when you came home to his empty room. 

A reality that had your eyes swollen for days. 

It took you two weeks to see the envelope on the table. A scrawl of shitty handwriting with your name on it. 

Tucked inside the pristine white envelope was more than twenty $100 bills, fresh from the bank. And a small note: 

“If you need more let me know, 

take care of yourself - Eddie 

That night you wept. Clutching onto the handmade shirt Eddie had given you, the night before the concert. The only thing remnant of him living in the house. Not counting the newer jar of pickles in the fridge, like the last— the lid was missing. 

Hot tears slid out of your eyes faster than a tub draining. A call to Robin is broken with blubbering hysterics and honking noises of your nose being blown into a wadded Kleenex, and in ten minutes time—she manages to drop everything to come and look after you. 

Countless hours slip by of her rubbing your back and even crying along with you, she swore Eddie and you were meant to be. Her words were blankets of comfort on you as she tried her best not to bring him up. 

She had promised both Steve and Eddie to not tell you where he was staying, for your own good. 

And like the kind hearted friend she was, Robin stayed for a few days. Taking off work and cooking meals for you even though you refused to eat. 

On the third day of not eating and refusing to leave your bed, she put a call in to Steve. He was hands on his hips disappointed in you. Lecturing you about how your actions hurt people and how you couldn’t be a brat forever. He threatened to dial the Wheeler’s to have Karen step in. 

But you wouldn’t budge. 

When Nancy had shown up on a Wednesday morning, she immediately went to work. Making a schedule for you to follow, and taking absolutely no bullshit when you told her you were a grown woman and could deal with things on your own. 

When she blacked out Eddie’s name from the calendar, silent tears fell down your cheeks. 

Seeing his name brought you both solace and pain. A reminder that you had done this yourself. That he wasn’t coming back. And it was because of you.

You moved with the motions of each day.

Shower 

Brushing your teeth 

Eating breakfast 

Getting ready for work 

Going to work 

Eating lunch 

Working

Driving home 

Eating supper 

Brush teeth 

Bedtime 

You sat in silence when you weren’t at work. Finding little to no enjoyment in anything anymore. Avoiding everyone’s calls. Staring at the 4 walls in your bedroom like a prison cell. Eddie’s stupid jar of pickles tucked snuggly between your crossed legs, your supper for weeks now. 

The only thing on your mind was him. He stuck with you in everything you did. He was everywhere. You even started drinking orange juice from the jug just like he did.

His laugh. The small giggly one he’d had since boyhood and the deep belly laugh he’d generate when you would roll your eyes at him, all of his teeth showing. 

His smile seemed to stretch across the Milky Way. Wide and pearly, ear to ear. His cheeks prickled with deep dimples. Somehow getting cuter with age. 

The darkest eyes full of mischief and wonderment. You could get lost in the Wonka chocolate river pooling in his eyes. Changing with his emotions like a mood ring, they gave him away.  

—

Corroded Coffin hadn’t played a gig since A Merry Corroded Christmas. Hard to play a show when the lead singer couldn’t pull it together during practices or remember to show up to them. 

Steve had stayed up with Eddie the first few nights, talking him off the edge of a violent end he didn’t see a way out of. 

He wouldn’t allow himself to forget that night. The passion was cosmic. And he knew you felt it too. Whether or not you would admit you were lying to yourself didn’t interest him. 

He was used to rejection. 

Used to feeling like he was nothing. 

What was breaking him was the ghost of you in his arms. Your sleeping body haunted his dreams, made the demons escape from hell and flood his vision. 

When he woke and you weren’t there the pain surfaced tenfold. And no amount of whiskey or Rick’s finest trees would fix it. 

The cycle never ending

He cared about you more than he cared about himself. 

The day you asked him to leave was a blur. He woke up at Gareth’s apartment a day later, no recollection of how he had gotten there. 

Your words etched into his skin like a tattoo. 

I want you to leave.

FEBRUARY

Still Loving You by Scorpions is playing on repeat between Nothing Else Matters by Metallica again in the guest house behind the lavish empty pool of Steve Harrington’s new home on Cornwalis St. 

Thirty some odd days had passed and Eddie Munson was nowhere near the man he used to be. 

Where his skin was once smooth shaven was now replaced by a prickly sparse beard. His once sparkling chocolate eyes were now dull and almost ashen. Dark circles rim his eyes from lack of sleep and poor nutrition, a diet of Marlboros, whiskey and pretzels giving him enough energy to work and come back to the same space he had called home for a few months. 

Throwing himself into working long hours at Boom’s he slept very little at night. When he did close his eyes he’d be jarred awake by a nightmare, one he hasn’t had since he was a kid. And he’d lay awake for hours replaying the same day over and over again in his mind. 

Each time ending the same way.

Shreds of notebook papers cluttered the floor, each littered with blue and black ink, all different but entirely the same subject: you.

Poems, songs, haikus and even a poorly written sonnet he had attempted while drunk at 2 AM sitting in a lounge chair he had drug out from the pool shed to sit along the edge of the frozen pool cover. 

His hair hadn’t been brushed in weeks. Leighanne offered to help comb out the tangles and mats but the burden was too much for him to handle. He denied her kindness, brushing it off with mumbled ‘m fine ’s and don’t worry ‘bout me ’s.

But in reality the thought of another woman’s hands in his hair only made the tears fall harder. 

When Eddie first moved in, Steve and Robin were still in the apartment, and Eddie’s things were moved to a storage unit across town. 

When the lease was up at the end of January, Robin moved into Vicky’s apartment over Surfer Boy Pizza and Steve purchased a house, along with an expensive diamond ring he would be anticipating on giving to an eager Leighanne, holding off until her birthday for the right time to pop the question. 

The Harrington/Buckley apartment was then subleased to Eddie. A sublease that didn’t last more than a week before he was booted out by the landlord for destruction of property when he accidentally started a fire in the kitchen. 

He was only trying to replicate your lasagna. 

Steve graciously invited Eddie to move in. and Eddie kept to himself for the most part. And on nights when sad music was blaring from the small guest house, Steve knew better than to ask if his friend wanted to play cards or kick back with a few beers. 

-T-

January came and went and close to the end of February  Josie told you she was cutting everyone’s hours, the salon would no longer be open on the weekends. The envelope Eddie had left for you was thrown into your night stand and you refused to use any of it. 

No one in town was hiring for another hairdresser so you opted to driving fifteen miles out of town to find another job. 

The job you had gotten was bartending at a rundown shithole bar worse than the Hideout. But the tips were good and your boss was sweet. A pot belly old farmer who only played country classics and served warm beer and peanuts, the shells making curved mountains on the filthy splintered wood floor.

It was refreshing to get out of Hawkins, but most importantly, it was the best chance you had at not running into someone who looked like him. 

Your body started to ache at all times, tender in places that never hurt before. Exhaustion thick on your features 

Months had passed and you hadn’t seen your friends. Nancy would call every now and then and check in. Jonathan and her were seeing a couples therapist for intimacy issues. She said Mike was hinting at proposing soon to El. 

Eddie’s shadow lingered on your skin and you swore you could feel his breath in your ear. Whispering how he loved you.

Some days were better than others, but most days you would get so worked up you would vomit from the pain. Betrayal splayed in your guts. Your mind was working against you.

His teary eyes and hurt expression were all you saw when you closed your eyes. And every night you cried yourself to sleep, cocooned into a pile of too many blankets, dreaming that Eddie was holding you tight against his chest, never leaving…never letting you go. 

MARCH

Eddie worked more than twelve hours a day, acting as two full time mechanics with how hard he was throwing himself into projects. Boom, although grateful for Eddie’s help and go-getter attitude, worried about him. Especially when he noticed the other two knot head mechanics he couldn’t afford to fire, helping themselves into his office flipping through personnel files. 

“Sean told me he makes more money than me! I was just checking to see how much more you think he’s worth! 

Aaron chuckled when Boom tossed him out of the office by his collar. 

A secret motive snug on his Copenhagen smile. The Information he was seeking: found and a reward would be granted for his loyalty to a long time friend.

…

“… alright fine, I guess pineapple is pretty good on pizza.”

“Told ya, Harrington, ” licking his lips, Eddie reached into the cardboard box and grabs another slice, the melting cheese stretching for what seemed like miles,  “I know good pizza.” 

Steve rolls his eyes, taking it easy on his friend who finally is looking like his normal self again after two months of becoming almost unrecognizable. 

The sad music didn’t play anymore. And his fingers didn’t bleed from writing songs about you. 

He was accepting what happened. Still sad, a little depressed but moving forward with his life. 

The date was approaching, Steve knew it and so did Eddie, neither wanted to talk about what he was going to do yet but Steve held his tongue for far too long. 

“so.. that Metallica concert is coming up… you still g—”

Before Steve could finish muttering, Eddie was already finishing his sentence, chewing along with his explanation. His fingers twirl the rings on his other hand. A nervous fit settling in his stomach.

“—already sold ‘em. Gonna drop the money I got for them in her mailbox tonight.” 

Steve shifts uncomfortably in his chair, threading fingers through his coiffed hair. “So that’s it huh?” 

“So what’s it?” Eddie questioned, nonchalantly standing suddenly from the table with a scratch of the chair's legs  against the tiled floor. Throwing his paper plate and napkin away, he stops at the trash can. Doubling back he almost cracks under the scrutiny of Steve’s eyes. 

“Steve, she doesn’t wanna be with me, we’ve been over this. I fucked up, came on too strong.” 

“I’m sorry man,” Steve apologizes, a drag of his large hands down his face. “I really thought she felt the same way—,” he huffs out a breath, “fuck, we all did!”

A shake of Eddie’s curls silences Steve’s words, the whirring noise in his ears, “I’m fine man, really. I’m gonna keep doing what we said we would all those years ago.” 

Walking towards the front door and stomping louder than he should have, Eddie thrusts his arms into his leather jacket, the silk inside cozy along his faded cotton shirt. 

His keys are hanging on the little hook by the door, Steve’s decorator thinking of every detail, he lets the brass teeth dig into his palm. 

“Even if she hates me Steve,” one hand on the silver doorknob, rings clicking against it in his tight grip, he turns his head and looks into pitiful moss colored eyes, as he delivers the only truth he’s ever known, “I still love her.”

Slamming home the driver’s door to the van and turning his key into the ignition, Skid Row’s I Remember You plays gently through the speakers. Eddie hums along and pats his thumbs against the steering wheel. 

It was true he was doing better.

His hair was combed through after using copious amounts of the cheapest conditioner Melvald’s had to offer. And he didn’t need the whiskey anymore to make it through the day. 

He yearned to see your face. 

Even if it was a glare his way or a raised eyebrow at something stupid he had to say, he’d do just about anything to see it. 

Would you be smiling? 

Were you happy without him? 

He hoped you were doing well, and maybe would want to be friends again. 

Turning onto Cherry Lane is pure nostalgia. It had only been a few months but everything looked the same. He felt different and maybe expected everything else to change along with him. 

And there it was. Your house. 

The house he had lived in, learned life skills he should have learned years ago, and most importantly shared the deepest love he’d ever felt with someone in his life.  

The windows were dark, except for a small light in the kitchen, a candle he assumed. The smell of vanilla warmed his nose as he thought of the familiar scent you had kept burning.

The driveway held your car and another he didn’t recognize. By first glance he thought maybe it could be Nancy. But she had just brought her old station wagon into Boom’s last week for a tire rotation. 

The license plates on the fancy BMW were not from Hawkins, housing the wrong number for the county on the Indiana plates. 

His ears heated with jealousy. Throat closing tight trying to hide a choked sob. 

How could you have moved on from him so quickly? The thought of you hooking up with someone while he was practically a dead man walking made him weak in the knees.

A punch to the gut. He had never felt so low in all of his life.

He couldn’t help himself when he jumped out of the van. Foregoing slamming the door. Stomping on cold concrete with shaky legs all the way to the front door. He fumed as he blinked back tears. 

He was prepared to make an ass out of himself. He’d announce himself the same way he had when he opened the door the day he has moved in all those months ago. 

A loud boisterous, HONEY, I’M HOME 

With knuckles raised and his heart hammering in his chest like a bee trapped in a tin can, he was ready to knock. 

Ready to see your shocked face with some faceless guy probably with a better job and stupid suits when Eddie’s wild hair and goofy grin was on the other side of the door. 

But he is stopped short when a muffled shrill scream vibrates off the walls and finds his ears.

see you in volume 12

🐑 (sacrificial for readmore)

[treacheryinblue]

A Noah Sebastian x F!Reader One Shot

Word Count: 5.2k Masterlist

× Summary: Noah is Death, the ruler of the after life (or whatever you want to call it), though he is cursed to watch you come and go from his never ending existence time and time again.

× Warnings!: Eh-level smut (cut me some slack as I get back into it •‿• ), language, little bit of violence, tiny fluff, slight dom!noah, smut with plot aka this became more in depth than I meant for it to. Let me know if I missed anything!

× Story Song: God Complex by VIOLENT VIRA

There was an ache in your lungs with every labored breath you took, each one more strained than the last. You could hear his heavy steps trailing not far behind, and even though your calves were burning and you weren't sure how much longer you could carry on, you forced yourself to keep going. The pain didn't matter. All that did was the drive to stay alive. 

'Just a bit longer’, you would tell yourself. A vain hope that the man would tire out eventually and give up. All you had to do was outlast him. A simple task, right? 

Wrong. 

Small branches snapped beneath your bare feet as you did your very best to avoid low tree limbs and protruding roots from the ground. You dodged every obstacle, though you were only leading yourself deeper and deeper into the unknown woods in the process. 

You could hear his maniacal laughter over your shoulder, and you swore you could even feel his breath pass your skin, but there was no way he was that close without having snagged you yet. Finally, you took a sharp right turn and pressed your back up against the opposite side of a rather large tree. Tears streamed down your face, your hand covering your mouth to keep your sobs and heavy breathing muffled. 

“Come out, come out…” the man taunted, amusement evident in his sadistic tone. “We need to finish what we started or else it’s six feet under for both of us.” 

You forced your eyes closed, squeezing them as tight as possible. Maybe you would open them and be in your bed, all of this having been some sick and twisted nightmare. Unfortunately, that's not what lied ahead for you. 

Rough hands secured around your shoulders, forcing you down to the dirt without a hint of remorse. A scream erupted from you due to the sudden action, as well as the fear, obviously. 

“No! Please stop!” You pleaded while your fists tried their very best to bang against his chest, face, head - really anywhere you could reach. “Just let me go!” 

“Help! Someone help! Please!” 

The man’s laughter echoed through the woods and soon he had managed to pin your hands down on either side of your head. You squirmed and writhed beneath him, desperate to escape the heavy weight of his body being placed down on to you. 

“There's no one out here to save you, princess.” He somehow shifted your wrists into one of his hands, leaving the other free to dip down. “It's just the two of us.” 

There was a glint from the faint glow of moonlight shining off the blade he produced. The sight of it instantly silenced you, your eyes growing wide in terror. “Please...” you continued to beg through your tears, but it was as if the man couldn't hear a thing. Not that he cared about what you had to say. 

Then, without hesitation, he was forcing the knife at an angle up into your stomach. You gasped as the pain consumed you, too stunned to cry out again. Or maybe you were becoming too weak, due to the loss of blood and all. The man didn't stop there, though. He retracted the knife, shifted a bit, just before plunging it down into your chest. Another gasp escaped you, but this one didn't seem to hurt as bad as the first. Actually…you didn't feel much of anything anymore. 

Although there was a warmth consuming you, your assumption was that it was just the blood escaping from your body and pooling, but the deeper you progressed into the darkness, the more you began to believe that wasn't entirely true. 

× × ×

Suddenly, your eyes snapped open and you were staring up at a high, dark ceiling, and not the previous trees you had just been surrounded by. Your hands flew to your chest in search of the wound, then down to your stomach, but there was nothing. All that remained was the blood stains and the agonizing memory of your death. 

“Thirteen stab wounds…a bit of an overkill.” 

An unknown voice came from somewhere within the room, frightening you in a way that made you quickly sit up and snap your head around in search of the source. 

“Oh, ritual sacrifice? That's fun. Haven't seen that in a few decades. Gotta say, though, the thirteen is really bugging me. It's so cliche.” 

You could sense someone circling you just within the shadows of the room, making sure to stay deep enough to not be revealed quite yet. 

“Who…where am I?” The trembling of your voice was thick with fear, and even now a fresh set of tears began to well within your eyes. “Am I dead?” 

“You're a smart one, huh? It usually takes people way too long to figure that out.” 

Slowly, a figure emerged from the shadows directly in front of you, though the man now standing there kept his distance. He appeared to be roughly the same age as you, wearing all black with his hands clasped behind him. His face was void of emotion despite the amusement you swore you could hear in his previous statements, but there was a gleam in his dark eyes that you couldn't quite place. 

As much as you didn't want to admit it, he was rather beautiful. 

With a faint nod, you sniffed and finally pulled your gaze from his just so you could take a glance around the room. What you initially thought was a large empty space, was actually an oversized living area of sorts. You could just slightly make out the outline of furniture and art pieces, a new item making itself known with every shift of your eyes. When you looked back to the man, he was closer, his tall form crouching in front of you with a bend of his knees. 

“You seem sad,” he pointed out, his brow furrowing while examining you with only his eyes. 

“Well…I'm dead apparently, so…” 

“No,” he sternly responded almost before you could finish saying the words. “This is different.” 

Long fingers reached out, and at first you flinched away, until he sent an intense stare into your eyes that made you turn your head back to its natural position. A finger pressed beneath your chin to tilt your head up, the man fixating on every possible inch of your face. Then, without a word, he produced a devilish smile. 

“Very interesting.” 

With him taking a firm grasp of your chin, you sharply inhaled and dropped your knees to the side so you could lean in closer to him. He was standing up now, but bent at the waist so he towered above you, your eyes remaining level. “I think I'm going to keep you…at least for a bit.” 

“A bit?” You repeated, your curiosities bringing forth another smile from him. 

“Just a few centuries or so.”

The man’s hold of your face began to soften until his fingertips were just ever so lightly cradling your jaw. He could sense your confusion and hesitancy towards his words, thus leading to his new approach. 

“Let's get you cleaned up.”

× × ×

Moments later you were standing within a lavish bathroom after having walked with awe through…wherever you were. You weren't sure if it was a home, a conjured image, or what, but you were in too much shock still to question it. What you did notice during your walk, was that everything was very gothic. The architecture, the decor, the artwork that hung on the walls - all of it giving off a certain vibe of its own. 

What really tied it all together was the deep color scheme that made you feel as if you fit right in; with the dried blood on your clothes and what not. 

A large claw foot tub sat in the middle of the bathroom with steaming water running from the faucet. He looked at you, then motioned to the tub, making a clear request for you to get in. When you didn't, he arched his brow with a silent question. 

“You're still in here…” you explained, like that wasn't already obvious enough. 

When the realization of what you meant dawned on him, he produced a chuckle, slowly nodding. “Nothing I haven't seen before, I can guarantee.” 

“Since you've never seen me naked before, it actually is.” 

He heavily sighed, but then begrudgingly turned so his back was facing out, his front angled towards the corner. 

“Is this better?” 

You didn't respond. Instead, you stood still for another long moment before finally beginning to strip out of your soiled death clothes. Chills formed over your skin as the cool air encompassed you, this helping guide you faster to the awaiting bathtub so you could seek out the warmth again. 

Only when he heard the water settle, did he turn back around, slow steps approaching the tub. You glanced up to him, arms folded over your chest, legs crossed and pressed together to keep yourself hidden beneath the water. He didn't attempt to look, though, for his sights remained locked on your face. The way he was looking at you was rather odd, but there were many other questions that you wanted answered before the one that had to do with that. 

“So…do you have a name?” 

“Many,” he responded without hesitation. How was he always so quick? 

“Okay, well, what do you want me to call you out of these many names?” 

Taking in a deep breath, he slowly exhaled, using this brief moment to ponder your question. “You can call me Noah.” 

You snorted out a laugh only because the name given was far more normal than you were expecting. “Noah?” You repeated as yet another question for him. 

“It means ‘to rest',” he explained without even a hint of a smile. Something was telling you that he didn't find this taunt of yours to be entertaining in the least bit. 

“Okay, Noah, can I now know where I am?” 

“Do you always ask so many questions?” 

Cue your deep, prolonged sigh.

“I was used as a sacrifice, stabbed in the woods, I died, then I woke up here. Did I freak out even once? No. I think I'm deserving of some answers.” 

Noah didn't dare try to hide the smirk conjured by your feisty demeanor. To be honest, he was impressed, at the very least. He gave a single nod as he crossed the bathroom to retrieve a solid black washcloth from a neatly folded pile of items. Joining you again, he dropped the washcloth into the water, then sat on the edge of the tub down near your feet. 

“The afterlife, Hell, the underworld - whatever you want to call it, that's where this is, though it's really a realm of its own. An entirely different plane from Earth. That's the easiest way to explain it.” 

You had started cleaning your skin with the cloth and soap provided, soon turning the clear water red with your washed away blood. As he spoke, your eyes focused on his face, more specifically the way his jaw moved with every word. It was then that you noticed flashes of color popping up from over the black turtleneck he wore, permanent etchings that accompanied those you had glimpsed on his hands. 

Huh, you never thought of someone like him as being the tattoo type. You know, a being beyond most human comprehension. 

“So…what? You're the Devil?” 

This caused him to laugh, a deep chuckle erupting from his chest which told you that it was a genuine response. 

“Sure, if that's who you need to think of me as. Though I prefer to see myself as being more complex than a red man with a pitchfork and horns surrounded by flames…and much more handsome.” 

Your eyes traveled from his neck and back to his face before settling on the sharp angle of his nose, then his lips. Of course the man who was basically the Devil would be handsome…you should've known that to be true already. The wash cloth still rubbing along your skin slowed at your chest, your teeth sinking into your lower lip as you admired him. 

Why weren't you scared? Any logical person would've been, but you were more concerned with viewing more of that enticing tattoo that was teasing you. What was it? How far down did it go? Did he have more? Although the water was hot that you were submerged in, you somehow felt a chill radiate down your spine. When you finally looked back up, Noah was watching you, that previous gleam returning to his eyes. 

“You didn't hear a word I said, did you?” He scolded, before then lifting himself from the edge of the bathtub again. 

You opened your mouth to speak, though nothing sounded like it would be the right answer. Instead of replying, you just closed your mouth and held his gaze. 

“What if I had revealed a secret of the universe to you? All while you were too busy thinking of me naked?” 

“What? I wasn't thinking about that!” You scoffed in defense. 

Noah had shrugged off his jacket as you struggled to find your voice, the long sleeve shirt he wore also being tossed aside next until he was fully bare from the hips up. He didn't linger in front of you for too long; his steps around to the back of the tub only allowing you a quick moment to study the tattoos that were inked across the entirety of his torso and arms. 

“Do you know how I know you were thinking that? Aside from the blush that's risen to your cheeks?” 

You sharply inhaled as you felt his hands on your shoulders, your heartbeat immediately picking up in pace. Again - any logical person would be terrified. 

“Because you told me you were…last time.” 

The tattooed hands on your shoulders tightened their grip, his thumbs rubbing soothing yet firm circles into the base of your neck. You knew he was trying to keep you relaxed as he revealed something that sounded kind of important, but your eyes were closed and you were already lost in the sensations. 

“Last time?” You murmured softly as the task of processing his words took longer than they typically would. 

Noah’s breath fanned across the side of your neck and his hands began a slow journey down to your chest, pausing just before getting to the hardened peaks that were now your nipples. You could feel him smirk against your skin, then he was palming your breasts, pulling forth the faintest of moans from under your breath. 

“Would you believe me if I told you that this is the ninth time we've encountered each other? Thousands and thousands of years, and your face is the only one I've seen more than once.” 

He released the hold he had on your chest, now brushing your hair away from your neck so he could plant need-filled kisses along the elegant arch. The loss of contact caused you to pout, your eyes opening to see that a mirror had appeared on the wall opposite of the tub. It gave you a clear view of him behind you, and the fire burning within his eyes that was becoming more and more familiar. 

“Don't worry, you'll remember. It never takes too long.” 

The words you wanted to say still refused to be voiced, all because Noah was distracting you with his mouth and hands. The latter snaked around to the front of your throat, his fingers securing until he was able to force your head to angle up towards him. His mouth then claimed yours in a heated kiss that clouded all of your senses, refusing to let you touch, taste, or feel anything that wasn't him.

Your upper body twisted to the best of its abilities until you could tangle your fingers into his hair. The kiss was deepened, his tongue pushing past your lips first to begin the fight for dominance over your mouth. There was something familiar about all of this, almost like you knew exactly what to do to receive certain reactions from him. You knew that pulling his hair would make him hiss and rut against you - had you been in the correct position - and something as simple as biting his lip would have him turning you over and pulling you back against him in a matter of seconds.  

But how did you know that? That was the question now plaguing your mind. 

It didn't linger for long, though. It was impossible to let it when Noah’s hand mimicked your own, a handful of your hair now in his grasp so he could force your head back. You whimpered at the painful sensation that vibrated straight down to your core. His opposite hand again began a downwards trek, dropping into the water so he could force your thighs apart. 

“Look at me,” he demanded, his breathing just as labored as your own because of all the built up frustrations you both shared. “Fuck, I've missed those eyes.”

Your knees pressed into either side of the bathtub walls to allow him all the space he would need between your thighs. Skilled fingers traced slowly along the smooth folds that were almost begging for him to give you more. Your breath hitched in your throat and the need you felt for him showed dark within your eyes that he was still locked in on. Dipping in just a bit, his fingertips met with your own natural wetness - which he could easily feel despite being surrounded by water. 

“Maybe your mind doesn't yet remember, but your body does.” Noah smirked, then plunged the entire length of his middle finger into your cunt, just to prove how wet you already were for him. 

Your body tensed and your hips shot forward, rocking up against his hand with a desperate need. He wasted no time with finding that very specific spot inside of you, immediately placing a firm pressure against it to accompany his stroking motion. Your eyes fluttered closed and your lips parted once your jaw fell slack in response to how one mere finger could make you feel. 

“Noah…” you whimpered as your slick walls tightened around him, drawing him in deeper. 

“That's it…you can do it.” He again pulled your hair to bare your neck to him, his teeth sinking into your sensitive flesh before soothing the area with a kiss. A second finger soon joined the first inside of you, and you knew it wouldn't be long before you were a goner. 

There was just something about being fingered in a bathtub stained with your own blood that really did it for you. 

Your breathing began to increase, your chest rising and falling at a rapid pace that seemed to match the same one Noah kept inside of you. He was still stroking that special spot with a maddening pressure, the ball of his hand rubbing against your sensitive clit, and the mixture of the two sensations had you teetering right on the edge. 

“Just give me one and then I'll allow you what I know you truly want.” His words were whispered at your ear as he pushed his long fingers deeper into your cunt, working you over in ways that only he knew how to. 

You knew what he meant, though, and oh, how badly did you want what he had in store for you next. You could only imagine how hard he was right then, his cock straining against the black pants he wore, begging for some sort of relief. Noah was patient, though. Much more patient than you were. After all, he spent over two hundred years waiting for you to appear again. He could wait another few minutes. 

Noah again slipped his left hand down to your chest where he began to pinch and pull at your nipples, the added stimulation being exactly what you needed. With his fingers making that damned 'come hither’ motion inside of you, your thighs suddenly clamped down around his hand from the intensity of the orgasm that rushed through your body. 

“Oh…Noah! Right there, yes!” You cried out as your pussy fluttered wildly around his fingers, that of which he had yet to cease the motions of. No, he was going to draw it out for as long as he could, really let you ride the high of your first time together again. 

His head turned to press his lips to the nape of your neck, the breaths he let out almost as heavy as your own. “You're so beautiful when you cum for me,” he exclaimed. “I could watch it again and again, which I plan to do.” 

The come down from your orgasm had left your head spinning and foggy. You barely even noticed when you were no longer encased in the water of the bathtub, your body now being tossed upon the most comfortable bed you had ever felt. Opening your eyes, you gazed up at Noah through your post-orgasm haze, admiring him with no shame as he began to unfasten his belt. 

“It's all starting to come back to you, isn't it?” 

The clanking metal sound of his belt sent chills through you, and you had the faintest memory of him using that belt of his for other things that made you scream in pleasure. Noah smirked, well aware of what you were thinking of, but he slowly shook his head. “Next time,” he promised. 

He then leaned forward and grabbed you beneath your knees, forcing your body a little closer before managing to turn you over onto your stomach in a swift motion. You were still very much drunk on all that he was, all that this was, so you allowed him to maneuver you however he pleased. 

Strong hands slowly ran up the sides of your thighs and then gripped tight to your hips. He pulled them up and back, your ass now angled upwards as your upper body remained down on the bed. You smiled, your fingers grasping onto the soft sheets that he had laid you upon. 

“Fuck…” you heard him hiss, the sight of you on display for him causing his cock to twitch. His hands were then on you again, this time massaging into the flesh of your ass cheeks, fingertips occasionally grazing against the wetness between your thighs. You knew he was doing it on purpose just to tease you. 

You huffed in frustration, your body rocking back just a bit as a silent demand for him to give you what you wanted. He chuckled lowly to himself, his hands retreating from your overeager body. 

There was a quick moment where you tried to lift your head to see back at him, but he immediately tutted in disapproval. “Stay down,” he demanded in a tone that was both soft and firm. 

You whined in protest as you dropped your head back down to the bed. Each passing second had you growing more and more impatient, like you were going to literally explode if Noah didn't give into your desires. You wanted him inside of you. You needed to feel the burning stretch as he claimed your body. 

The bed then dipped with his added weight and you finally felt the warmth of his cock gliding between your folds. You heard him take a sharp breath as one hand held your hip, the other guiding himself around all of your sensitive areas. A shudder moved through you when the head grazed along your clit, the sensation immediately causing your eyes to close and your fingers to tighten on the sheets in preparation. 

“You feel like Heaven,” he murmured, the tip of his cock now pressing against your entrance. “So much better than I could ever remember.” 

Finally, he was easing himself inside of you, pushing through your tight walls until his hips pressed flush against your ass. His fingers flexed along your hips and you knew he was trying to control himself - a task that was much easier said than done. The feeling of being so full already had your toes curling and your breath exiting in pants. It was an addictive pleasure, the way your body reacted to him. How your cunt stretched to its limits around his thick cock, a slight pain mixing with your ecstasy, though that only made it so much better. 

Noah’s hips pulled back until only the tip remained nestled inside, just to force every inch back within your depths with a quick thrust forward. He groaned your name, his noises mixing with your own coming from beneath him. He repeated this a couple of times as if he was trying to commit every inch of your cunt to his memory, and the way it felt to have you wrapped so tight around him again. 

Tattooed fingers pushed and pulled your body along his length, his pace quickening. He would thrust forward a bit harder each time he made it as deep as possible, just to give you that extra little  punctuation that he knew had you seeing stars. 

“Fuckfuckfuck!” Your moans echoed through the room, joining the likes of your bodies colliding and his satisfied groans. “Oh my god, Noah. Don't stop…I'm getting so close.” 

There was a sudden shift in his thrusts, each one becoming a bit more rough than the last. His hand traveled down the expanse of your back until he could find your hair within his grasp. Noah forced your head back and then your upper body as well, the rhythmic motions of his hips pausing with him deep inside of you. You smirked despite his now serious demeanor, because you could feel his cock twitch and throb inside of you. If only you could touch your clit, you would've came just from that alone. Something told you that Noah wouldn't allow it, though. Not unless he said for you to. 

“Believe me, God isn't here.” He sternly explained through his heavy breaths before he was pushing your body back down to the bed. His fingers locked around your wrists and trapped them against the mattress, leaving you helpless to his maddening desires. “He has no part in all the sinful things I want to do to you.” 

The pressure of his body weighing down on your own, mixed with the increasingly rough motion of his hips, had your moans erupting one after the other in quick succession. You didn't know how much longer you could keep your orgasm at bay, that task always proving to be difficult when Noah fell victim to his dominant side. It was clear that you had zero qualms with this based off your body’s reaction. 

“Please…” you whimpered, the beg reminiscent of your last moments as a living being. It was so funny to you how things aligned like that. 

Noah lowered himself more until his chest was touching your back, his hips slowing as well. Each thrust remained hard, though he took his time stroking your inner most walls. He wanted you to be able to feel every pulse of his cock, just so you knew the things only you did to him. 

“What was that?” He kissed along the side of your face until his lips were at your ear, this being where he murmured the taunt. “Was there something that you wanted? Go on, tell me.” 

You nodded, your lips folding in as you attempted an act of composure - one you both saw through. There was no such thing when it came to Noah 

“I need to cum, Noah, please!” You impatiently exclaimed while trying to press back into him with every thrust forward he made. The strength behind his hips nearly prevented you from doing so, but you both also knew that deep down he couldn't deny you a single thing you wanted. 

Noah smirked, his broad shoulders lifting away until he was sitting up on his knees behind you again. He was squeezing your hips so tight that you assumed bruises would be there tomorrow - can the undead bruise? That was one thing you didn't remember, but the answer would surely come soon enough. 

A lithe inked hand snaked around until his fingertips were on your swollen clit. Your body jolted from the sudden electrifying sensation that caused you to tense. No sounds came from you now, since the intensity had your breath catching and halting in your chest. Those skilled fingers of his rubbed your clit in perfect time with his thrusts, driving you right to the edge. Occasionally he would pinch at the overly sensitive nerves, only just hard enough to make your thighs tremble and eyes roll back. 

“Then cum.”

Those two words were uttered as a demand; he allowed you exactly what you wanted while making sure you remembered who was in control. How could you ever forget? 

Waves of pleasure began to crash within every inch of your tense body. Your cunt collapsed around his cock and soon you were erupting, each nerve in your being firing off all at once. It was the most amazing thing you had ever felt, being able to cum around him as he also gave into his own climax. 

Noah's hips jerked out of rhythm before stilling inside of you, thick ropes of his cum coating the aching walls of your pussy which he had just thoroughly claimed. Not that there was ever any question of its ownership. All of the moans and other sounds of strained delight that left him was your favorite song - nothing but music to your ears that you were eager to press 'play’ on again and again. 

As he came down from his high, the dominant side slowly began to drift away, though only for the time being. It could easily be back with a snap of your fingers. His body enclosed around yours again since he knew you enjoyed the weight of him, greedy lips pressing light kisses along your shoulders and the back of your neck. 

“Say it.”

You smiled through the heavy breaths that remained, which were accompanied by slight twitches in your hips from the after effects of your Earth shattering orgasm. 

“Say what?” The tone you used gave away that you knew exactly what he wanted from you. 

“Don't make me beg.” 

“Hmm…” you softly hummed in feign thought, briefly getting lost in the way his fingertips grazed your sides. “Did I say it last time?” 

The answer was something you were already aware of: you did. You just couldn't pass up the chance to tease and mock him. 

“You say it every time.”

Shifting beneath him, your upper body turned enough so that you were able to look up into his dark eyes. There were still a lot of things that you couldn't yet recall, but old memories were making themselves known with each second that passed. Soon, you would know everything, just as he did. 

“I love you,” you murmured in a near whisper. That same gleam you had witnessed in his eyes several times that day returned, making you begin to believe that he hadn't possessed it for the entire duration you were separated from him this time. 

“Maybe the ninth death will be the charm.” 

× × ×

[crazybiscuit]

Give 'em Pumpkin to Talk About

Pairing: Clark Kent x Reader (ft. Jon and Conner Kent) Summary: Ma Kent sent Clark home with way too much pumpkin to carve... Warnings: No warning, just fluff and family bonding :) Word Count: 1785 Credits: @strangergraphics thank you for the dividers! A/N: This is actually my first official fic, so I hope you all enjoy it.

“Clark, these pumpkins are ridiculously massive,” you remarked dryly, staring at the three large pumpkins taking up the entirety of your dining table.

Clark let out a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck, “Ma insisted that I take them with me for the kids…”

“Did you fly them here? Never mind, don’t answer that. I already know the answer…,” obviously he was Superman so this would’ve been easy for him, but it was difficult to wrap your mind around how strong your husband was at times.

He cleared his throat, sensing that you didn't seem too upset, “Do you think the boys will like them?”

You were still a little disturbed to see your already small kitchen overtaken by pumpkins but you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, finally setting down your purse on a chair by the kitchen island, “No doubt Jon will love them, that's for sure. Not sure about Conner..."

"I didn't know your parents grew pumpkins... Are these naturally grown?” you asked, approaching the table to touch one of the toddler sized pumpkins curiously.

Clark nodded, amused by your question, and walked up to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, “They don't, a friend gave them to them but they are, in fact, naturally grown."

He stayed quiet for a second before continuing, "You know these pumpkins are actually fairly small compared to our record holders.”

You tried to hide your shock as you looked back at him with a small smile, "I'm not sure if I should be horrified or impressed, Smallville."

He chuckled, kissing the top of your head before letting go of you, “I'll have to show you the contest one of these days."

He began to grab his coat and car keys as he glanced at the time, "I’m going to pick up the boys, Conner's going to be landing soon and Jon probably wants to greet him at the airport."

You nodded, kissing him quickly, careful not to hit his glasses, "Alright, I'll get started with dinner in the meantime. Be quick!"

About 40 minutes later, you recognized the familiar sound of a small child running down the hall and you set down your knife to wipe your hands. You then heard the usual sound of Clark fumbling with his keys and you held back an amused smile, walking towards the door. Before he even got the chance to find his house key, you unlocked the door and opened it.

Clark jumped slightly, feigning shock to maintain his persona even though he definitely heard you, and let out a slight laugh, “Oh! H-hi, Darling.”

"Hi, Love," you greeted him again, glancing at the two boys with him, "You should consider carrying less keys when you go out."

You gave the two young boys a smile as your son ran up to you, hugging your waist, "And hello, boys. How was school?"

Conner gave a wave, removing his sunglasses, and dropped his backpack by the door, “Alright. I got out early, so not too eventful.”

Clark walked past you and Jon, carrying Conner's suitcase to the guest room. You gave Conner an apologetic smile, running your hand through Jon's dark hair, "I'm sorry for the inconvenience, Conner. We figured buying you a flight would be less suspicious than having you show up here using your abilities-"

Conner smiled, shrugging, "It's fine. I get it, I'm just glad I can be here for the weekend."

You turned your attention back to the nine year old next to you, "How were your classes, Jon?"

The boy brightened up, “We had a quiz today and I got 100 on it! And Ms. Sally also let us pair up for science class!”

Jon kept talking for a while longer and Clark ruffled his hair when he finished, "That's great, kid. Conner, I set up your bed and put your bags in there."

"Alright, if you boys are ready, I almost finished dinner and then Clark has a surprise for you two."

Once you finished cooking, the boys walked into the kitchen and Jon gasped, seeing the pumpkins. Before the boy could speak, you quickly told him that the pumpkins were for after dinner, which caused him to pout as he took a seat next to Conner at the kitchen island. 

Clark helped you serve dinner and offered you the last chair at the island, deciding to stand next to you as everyone ate. When everyone finished, your husband also insisted on cleaning up. He didn't even allow you to pick up the dirty dishes. So, you turned your attention to the boys and you began to tackle the pumpkins.

“Which pumpkins do you boys want?” you asked, glancing at the kids. 

Jon quickly picked out his pumpkin, the smallest one of the three, but it still was quite intimidating to tackle, “I like this shade of orange!”

Clark chuckles slightly, wiping his hands as he approaches the dining table, “Conner?”

“I’ll just take this one,” he shrugged, grabbing the closest one to him.

“Then I guess this leaves us with this one,” Clark told you, pulling the bumpy pumpkin closer to his seat to begin carving it.

“Alright,” you smiled before sitting next to Jon, “I’ll get started with the top for you.”

The boy protested slightly but didn’t seem too annoyed as he moved to sit with Conner. The smell of pumpkin quickly overtook the kitchen and it put you in the fall spirit.

"How many pumpkin pies do you think we could make with all of these?" you asked jokingly as you scoop out the filling of Jon's pumpkin, glancing at Clark and Conner, who were basically done hollowing out their pumpkins.

Conner looked up from his work, Jon practically hanging off of him as he worked on his Jack-o'-lantern, as he responded with a small smirk, "Too much."

"There's no such thing as too much!" Jon exclaimed, stepping away from Conner, letting the teen breathe, "When can I start cutting?"

You smiled slightly, "Soon, I still need to hollow out your pumpkin."

The nine year old nodded, surprisingly patient as he went back to sketching out his plan. Clark noticed you struggling to keep up with his and Conner's super speed and he carefully took your hand, "I'll finish that up. You start tracing the face for our Jack-o'-lantern."

You hesitated slightly, not wanting him to work for you, "No, it's al-"

Your husband cut you off with his sweet smile, "I insist. Anyways, I trust your artistic skills over mine any day."

With that, you resigned and began tracing a fun design on your shared pumpkin, "Boys, do you think I should make a cat or a witch?"

The two kids looked up from their tasks, sharing a glance. Conner spoke up, looking back down at the sketch he was helping Jon with, "Why not both?"

You thought about it for a second before nodding, "That's probably a good idea actually. There's a lot of blank space to use."

The next few minutes were filled with small talk as everyone started focusing on transferring their sketches onto the large pumpkins. Clark helped Jon to the best of his ability, struggling a little to recreate the design Conner helped Jon with. Luckily for the Superman, his son didn't seem upset at all with his mediocre art skills.

The peaceful atmosphere, however, had given you the urge to mess with your poor husband, seeing he was likely too focused on his artwork to notice your scheming.

You glanced at the large bowl of pulp and seeds sitting on the counter next to you and you grabbed a handful, motioning to the boys to be quiet. Conner's eyes widened slightly, catching on to your intentions and he paused his sketching for a few seconds. Jon, on the other hand, was less discreet as he covered his mouth, giggling at the prospect of his father getting pranked.

“Honey?” you called out innocently, suppressing a wide grin.

That caught Clark's attention, "What's wr-"

You dropped the pulp on his head, causing him to flinch for a few seconds as he processed what just happened. A few seconds later, he began to laugh and turned to face you, "Alright, you asked for it!"

This marked the beginning of a food fight in your pristine kitchen, as Clark threw pulp back at you. You let out a small yelp, feeling the cold and slimy filling hit your skin. Conner grinned and teamed up with Jon, throwing their own handfuls of pumpkin pulp at Clark and you. 

You feigned a gasp of offense as your boys betrayed you, "How could you? After I offered you both cookies!"

Your cries of playful outrage fell on deaf ears, "Sorry, mom. This is war!"

The food fight ended surprisingly soon as you all ran out of ammo, the seeds and pulp covering nearly every inch of the once clean dining room. Each one of you is also covered in an absurd amount of pumpkin.

"White flags?" everyone nodded, still laughing.

"I'll quickly clean this up, you three start carving so we can put these outside tonight." 

You looked at Clark, a little surprised, "You sure? You already cleaned earlier–"

"I've got it, It'll be faster like that anyways," he said, leaning down to kiss you smiling. You happily kissed him back and pulled away to let him clean.

It took him barely two minutes to clean but by that time, Conner finished his detailed pumpkin and you had started guiding Jon through his pumpkin carving journey. 

"Thank you so much, Love," you said, smiling as he began carving your design.

"It's really no big deal," Clark responded with a smile, his hair messy from using his superspeed.

By the time you were all finished, you had three drastically different pumpkins: Conner's being a detailed design of his favorite horror movie villains that went around the pumpkin; you had decided to go with a more simple design of a witch with her cat, which Clark had managed to carve out neatly; and Jon had a cute (though a little sloppy) design of Superman and the Superboys on his pumpkin.

“Are they going to fit on the balcony you think?” you asked Clark, both of you staring at the carved pumpkins.

“We’ll make it work,” Clark kissed your cheek as the boys took pictures with their pumpkins, likely to send to Tim and Damien.

“What do you think the neighbors will think?”

“It’ll give ‘em pumpkin to talk about.” 

You fought to stop the smile forming on your lip, “That was so corny…”

The dark haired man smiled, “Whatever it takes to make you smile.”

[ranaissingle]

Whispers and Melodies (Pt. 2)

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: She has heard a deep melodic voice speaking to her from a faraway place for decades. Anything from snippets of a longer conversation to roars that shook the very earth she walked on.

Rating: T (For now)

Word Count:

A/N: This story is shaping up to be over 10 chapters so I am trying to queue up some chapters to post with some kind of regularity lol. I hope you enjoy this one! Also, I have created a tag list so comment below if you would like to be tagged in upcoming parts!

★──────────★─────────★

Past (Sometime before Amaranths's Rule UTM)

Rhysand sat at his office in Velaris pouring over mountains of paperwork that he had allowed to pile up right before starfall. He’d spent the better part of 3 days working through the aftermath of the holiday, and he sat now at his desk, he wished he had some type of escape or distraction from the mountain of work that always seemed to follow him. 

A melodic breeze seemed to enter from the window as the trees and winds intermingled before filtering their way through the large windows. The breeze carried notes that came in quick succession and seemed to echo off of each other. The soft feminine voice almost caressed Rhysand's cheek and winded itself around him in a blanket of warmth. He hadn't realized how cold he was until that very moment. His back and arms slowly untensed themselves as he relaxed further into his chaise and as soon as Rhysand felt like he could finally go to sleep, the voice seemed to fade back out the window and only left Rhysand craving more. 

Page break and POV switch (Same time period)

Y/N sat out enjoying the weather amid the hot summer. She had laid out various fruits, bread, and spreads to snack on while she read and hummed away her evening basking in the sun. The wind carried a gentle breeze and various little creatures scurried their way across the grove. All at once, it seemed like the ambient noise around her had become muffled. As if someone had placed a pillow over her ears. Slowly, a voice from the outside seemed to filter through whatever was muffling her hearing. It was laughter. Booming laughter made some deep unknown emotion bubble up inside her. Something that made her heart ache most deliciously. A small smile crept upon her face as she looked out into the distance the first to find where the sound had been emitting from. Nothing but trees and willowing branches blew in the wind, not a soul in sight. The laughter slowly fizzled out as if the sound was creeping back into the forest from whence it came. The retreat left her feeling cold as if a winter breeze had made its way to her from the winter court. 

Rhysand slowly pulled open the door to the room he had been occupying and stepped outside the threshold of the door. As the hinges creaked, the woman’s chopping ceased as she placed her knife on the cutting board before wiping her hands on her apron and turning around. Rhysand strengthened his stance even as the muscles of his thighs burned with the strain. 

“Who are you and how did I get here.” Rhysand’s voice came out firmer than he had thought himself capable of. The woman narrowed her eyes at him and cocked her head to the side.  

“I found you passed out on the beach. You are quite lucky the tides did not pull you into the depths before.” 

Her lips quirked up at the idea as if she was thinking about that very outcome. Rhysand squared his shoulders and steeled himself further. He couldn't be sure that this woman did not have evil intentions. If there was anything he had learned in his 500 years of life, it was that he should never underestimate an opponent just because they were a female. 

“Why would you help me then? Is there something you want in return?” 

Rhysand was grateful enough for the help that she had provided that he was willing to give her something in return. The female rested all of her weight on one leg as she turned her eyes up to the roof and began to contemplate what she would want. She was likely going to ask for a pile of gold or a new cottage of some sort. She looked like she had run through a million possible answers to his question when all at once her eyes widened and her posture stiffened as she blurted out; 

“Waterdrake scales! Could you get me water Waterdrake scales? A lot of them?” 

POV Switch To Y/N

Why did his voice sound so familiar? She swore she’d heard it before but couldn't

Y/n’s hand tightened on the side of the counter that she had been gripping with all of the mother’s strength. What ingredient could possibly stabilize the potion she was working on? She had tried every single combination of Honey possible but it always reduced the potency by some amount. She needed it to be as potent as possible in order to ensure its effectiveness. Firedrake scales were known to increase the shelf life of a potion, but that wasn’t exactly what she needed. She needed something to make sure that the reaction between the crawfish shell and fennel root did not take place and that their effects were enacted on the patient independently of their effects on one another. Could dragon bone work? No, that would just react with the fennel root and make the whole mixture useless. But waterdrake scales? Yes, those could work; it would keep the potion cool enough to prevent reaction while also having a cooling effect on the body when administered which would help with the fevers that often accompany blood loss. Yes, this was perfect! Before she could get any sort of reign on her excitement. 

Y/n blurted out, “Water drake scales! Could you get me waterdrake scales? A lot of them?”

POV Switch to Rhysand 

This female had gone insane. Water Drake scales were the rarest type of scales. Asking for them was equivalent to asking for something more valuable than the cauldron itself. Never mind that he was sure Velaris did indeed have Warwe drake scales, what could this female possibly need water Drake scales for? Rhysand lets his lips quirk up on one side as he takes in the female. 

“What would a spritely female like you need with water drake scales and how are you so sure that I could be the one to provide them for you?” Rhysnad crossed his arms over his chest and stared her down. 

Y/n rolled her eyes while she looked him up and down. “You carry yourself in a manner that befits whatever rank you possess.” She takes a deep breath before continuing,”I have seen a great many males like you, they traipse around as if they own the land they walk on, they trample over the plants and never leave a place the same as when they found it. Your kind is the reason our world will never have any semblance of peace for more than the time it takes to heave a breath.” 

“Oh? You have come to this conclusion after knowing me for all of 10 minutes have you?” 

“Not quite I think. You seem to be less…? Just less I suppose. I can’t exactly put my finger on it but you do not suck the air out of a room the way your brethren tend to. I’ve come to conclusions about your brethren, not necessarily you, it seems.” 

Although Rhysand still did not look pleased, he had already decided to acquiesce to her demands as soon as she had spoken it. He was grateful, after all, for her help in his recovery.  But, he was not going to fetch the scales by himself. If she wanted to get her hands on those scales she would have to contribute to the journey. 

“Alright, if you want the scales you shall have them. However, I am not going on this journey for the impossible by myself. I know where to find them so we can get started whenever you are ready. 

She smiles slightly before speaking. “I think that our journey might have to be held off a couple of days at least.”

Rhysand took the bait. “What, not up for the challenge?”

“No, I’m up for the challenge. You, however, are not.” The smirk on her face was undeniable and Rhysand felt a laugh make its way up his throat. The female was right he was not up to any kind of journey where he would be forced to sleep on the cold hard earth and eat whatever gruel he could salvage. All at once he felt the exhaustion flood him as his body realized he would not be traveling anytime soon. 

She seemed to notice this and anticipated Rhysand’s legs giving out under him before he realized he was getting closer and closer to the polished wood of the floor. She skillfully wrapped her arms around his torso and slowly lowered him to the ground. 

“We need to get you to bed. I already made breakfast so I’ll bring some to you as soon as you’re tucked in. 

Rhysand chuckled, “I’m not a child, gods, you’re more demanding than my brothers.” She cocked her hips to the side before placing her hands on her hips as she stared him down. Rhysands smile never left his face as he raised his palms in defeat and raised himself to his knees before turning on his heel and entering the room he had previously come out of. As the door clicked shut behind him, Rhysand stood in the middle of the cozy room. He hadn’t smiled in 50 years. The muscles felt strangely tight from lack of use. He knew he had to get back to Velaris as soon as possible; his family was probably wondering where he was. But, despite his best efforts he couldn't bring himself to winnow home. It was quite peaceful in this little cottage by the sea. Rhysand eventually sat on the bed and leaned back on his arms as he stared out of the large window across from the bed. It seems Amaranths's reign managed to evade this section of the fae kingdoms. 

Y/N rapped on the door 3 times before opening the door and walking inside. Rhysand smelt a fragrant aroma of ripened fruits and something else warm and minty. She walked up to the small wooden table next to the bed and placed a tray on it. 

“I’ve made you a fruit salad, bread and herbs, and tea. I would make you something more hearty but, considering how malnourished you were upon your arrival, I feel it’s best to start you off on some simpler foods.” Rhysand looked up at her, “Thank you for the meal.” She tilted her head to the side slightly and smiled. “Could I check your temperature?” She raised her hand up towards his forehead but kept her hand from actually touching him. He took the time to look up at her from where he sat on the bed. He nodded his head and waited as she brought the back of her hand to his forehead and placed her hand on her forehead as well. 

“You’re temperature is slightly above what is normal..” The frown on her face deepened as the gears in her mind began formulating some combination of herbs and elixirs to lower the fever. Rhysand kept his gaze on her as she started counting on one hand and mumbling soft indescribable words. Her eyes flicked down to his and she said,“ I’ll have to give you some ginger and chamomile to help lower your fever. ” Her touch felt cool on his warm forehead when he swore he felt his temperature lower a fraction. She then slowly brought her hands down to his neck before looking at him to ask for permission once more. Again, he slowly nodded his head and she pressed one of her delicate fingers against his skin. She removed her finger quickly and kept her gaze on that section of her neck. “It appears as if you are also dehydrated.” 

Her voice trailed off as she continued moving his head slightly. Curiosity overwhelmed him so Rhysand asked, “ You could have done all these tests while I was asleep, could you not?”. She smiled slightly at him as she removed her hands from his cheek and neck and placed them back in her lap. “I don’t think you would have wanted that.” Her gaze settled on him in a way that made shivers run up his already sore spine. Rhysand answered with his own poor excuse of a smirk.

“Eat up, I will start preparing the provisions for our journey and bring you some more water”. She turned to the door and softly clicked it shut behind her. 

Y/N did not expect that being so close to the man would have made her heart beat so fast. The hair on her arms stood up as she attempted to take deep breaths to calm her racing heart. She needed to get started on the preparation as well as figure out the dilemma of how she was going to replicate the properties of water drake scales without having to put them in every single batch of her remedy.  

Rhysand relaxed back into the bed cradling him and felt the tension in his muscles trickle out and gather underneath him in a pool of warmth. They wouldn't be going on a journey, he was sure Majda had some water drake scales stocked up and he planned to winnow them into Velaris as soon as he was better. But she didn't need to know that yet. He quite liked the tranquility of the little cottage on the sea and intended to stay here as long as she would permit him to. Funnily enough, he didn't care to go back home.

★──────────★─────────★

A/N: this had too many POV switches for my taste so I won't be doing that again lol I know it's been a while since I posted but I am trying to get back into the groove of things haha

TAGLIST: @nebarious

[rabidjackalope]

I give to you, my heart

(Rafe x Cannibal!Reader, cannibalism HOWEVER no one gets eaten, dismemberment, details on cooking a human, details about how drugs ruin your body, gore, idk the wordcount but id say around 5k? or less, I probs missed stuff so)

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, ALSO I have no clue is anyone in the dark!fanfic box world has made, created or writing anything for a cannibal reader! I got my inspiration from my personal desire to consume the ones I love BUT FULL CREDIT TO ANYONE HAS WRITTEN IT BEFORE ME

You had only told Rafe if he ever died, you'd dismember his body and keep him in the large ice box your father kept in the basement for his fishing trip.

So when you had gotten a call from Barry, telling Rafe had passed away in his trailer. You knew you had to act fast, stealing your father's truck and speeding to the cut. When you arrived, Barry was outside sitting on the porch with his head in his hands. "I don't know what happened man, I gave him a few lines and then he just started fucking shaking." He said, trying to conceal the wavering tone in his voice. Barry had never looked more beaten in his life, which spoke levels considering his time in the military. You spoke to him softly as you approached him. "Barry, I know it wasn't your fault." You began, taking a deep breath. "But Im gonna need your help, I gonna need you to put his body in the truck." You know you sound insane, but you couldn't let Ward get to Rafe first. So what? So the love of your life could be stuck in a box 6 feet under? "Follow me, he's in the living room so be prepared." He informed you as he stood up and turned to the trailers door.

As you walked in behind Barry, you crumbled at the sight infant of you. Rafe Cameron, the man you had devoted yourself to was dead infant of you. He looked like was asleep almost, his head thrown back on the sofa, his legs wide apart and his hands rested in his lap. "I propped him up on the coach, felt bad leaving him, y'know looking dead when you came." Barry explained as his gaze saying glued to the stained carpet beneath him. You walked over to Rafe and sat next to him, slowly you raise your pointer and middle finger to his neck. You gasp at how cold he was, a small part of you had hoped this was a sick joke. Unfortunately, it was your new reality. "So how do we get him in the car?" "I take his left arm, you take the right. We carry him to the truck and just pop him in the trunk. It's already open." You instructed as you took Rafe's cold arm and wrapped it around your shoulders. Barry followed your lead. The both of you care Rafe to the truck with only a slight struggle, you popped Rafe in the bed of the truck and wrap him up in a blanket. Barry stopped you before you could cover his face. "Oh Country club, how you haunt me in death."

The drive home was quiet, you didn't turn on the radio because it felt wrong. You sat in a hopeless silence, thinking of Rafe. Thinking about how you'd never hear his wealthy laugh, how he'd never hold you close to his chest just so you could hear his heartbeat, the soft feeling of his lips against yours. Rafe is truly gone and there's nothing you can do to fix it. The only thing you could do was do what felt right, which was craving the meat off his bones and eating him. As you slowly pulled up to your home, you made sure to park next to the cellar door. You get out the truck and walk over to the trunk. Slowly you open it, staring at your dead boyfriend, wondering how you'll get him into the basement without hurting him. The best and only way the came to your mind was gently dragging his blanket clad body by hooking your arms around his chest, muttering a tearful apology every time his feet thumped against the steps. Once in the basement, you unwrap his body and begin collecting your supplies.

A large ice box, a bone saw, a butcher's knife, cling wrap, a plethora of cleaning supplies, rubbing alcohol, mason jars, a kitchen knife set, and your apron. After getting everything, you started to undress Rafe. He had wore your favorite shirt, a white polo that was thin and breathable, something similar to a guayabera. You folded it was you tears soaked the fabric, debating about framing the shirt or putting in a shadow box. Placing his clothes on the table, you pick up the bone saw. Before anything though, you kneel next to Rafe's face. Running your free hand over his buzzed head, "Oh my love." You start. "I'm so grateful for you, Rafe. I loved you so much, I dreamed of cracking open your chest and sleeping within it. I dreamed of eating the flesh that bought me comfort." You confessed, removing your hand from his head and rubbed his toned chest. "I wish you could taste the meals I have planned, beef stew with a bone broth, steak and potatoes, and oh I'm thinking of using the lining of your intestines to make empanadas!" You gleefully told your dead lover, slowly standing and moving towards his left arm.

Rafe's arms and legs were cut into 3 pieces, upper leg/arm, lower leg/arm and feet and hands. Each piece wrapped in clingfilm and placed into the ice box with a thin layer of ice covering them. Once done situating the parts, you picked up a thin medium sized kitchen. Carefully taking the knife to your lovers chest, you begin to cut him open. The sight of Rafe's intestines was gruseome, but his heart was something else. You cut his heart out to get a better look and began to cry hilariously, Rafe's heart was small and frail, the arteries had tears in them, and the lining of it was so thin that if you where too rough you where sure the shining with turn to ash in your hands. With shaky legs, you stand and walking back to the table. You unscrew one of the mason jars, delicately placing Rafe's heart in it. You grab the bottle of rubbing alcohol and fill the jar with. You screw the lid back on and exam the jar with watery eyes before placing it back down.

With all your attention turned back to Rafe, you clean out his chest cavity with ease. You place his different intestines in jars and label the accordingly. you decide to separate his linings from this organs later. Thinking it will taste better if you remove them when needed. The second last step was next, Rafes brain and eyes. You take your bone saw right to his forehead, taking your time while sawing to make sure you didn't damage the brain. You peel back his scalp and remove the top of his skull, revealing this brain. With caution, you take it out of its home in Rafes head. You preserve it like you did his heart. You scooped his eyes out with your bare hands and preserve them.

The final part step was cremation, you broke the scraps of Rafe's body down to the smallest pieces you can. You took him out back and burned him in the fire pit. You watched the fire engulf your former lovers body, again remising on the relationship that was too good to be over. You and Rafe where supposed to grow old together, you there supposed to be married, you where supposed to have a house with a white picket fence 3 and a half kids and a dog. You weren't supposed to be burning his body in your backyard after he had a drug overdose. You snapped out of your thoughts once the fire died down, you scooped his ashes into a porcelain urn. You carried his ashes to your room, placing them on the alter you made for him. His ashes right in-between his brain and heart, with his beautiful baby blues next to a photo of the two of you smiling. "I love you forever, Rafe." You whispered as you placed a kiss on his urn.

~ love bay-bay (omg this is my first actual fanfic on this blog and I'm so excited for it!! I hope you enjoyed it, I was gonna write a nerd!Rafe x bsfmom!Reader fic but this was an itch I had to scratch lolz)

[thefreakandthehair]

my fiance walked into the kitchen last night to me in a rolling stones tee shirt and sweatpants, glass of wine in hand, bopping around to linkin park while cooking for easter. and it gave me a cute lil idea! enjoy!

It's a strange thing, holidays with a large family.

Eddie and Wayne don't really do Easter, it having been just the two of them for so many years. Sure, Eddie had woken up to baskets with plastic grass of various pastel colors when he was a kid, when Wayne was determined to give Eddie as normal of an upbringing as possible, but they've never had to plan a meal. There've never been assignments, or coordination, or questions like Who's bringing the mashed potatoes? Either Wayne grabs them at the store, or they don’t have them. Easy peasy.

This year is different. Easter 1987 brings friends, family, and a list that looks a lot like a menu on Steve Harrington's refrigerator. Eddie's name is scrawled in Steve's handwriting next to mashed potatoes, which explains why there's a huge pot of water on the stove and five pounds of potatoes glaring at him on Steve's counter. 

It doesn’t take much to convince Steve, who’s lovesick beyond words unbeknownst to Eddie, to let him take over his larger, better-equipped kitchen for the occasion. A simple pout and the fluttering of his eyelashes as he makes his case: "Please, Stevie? Take pity on poor ol' Eddie with his lack of a stand mixer and counterspace?” 

So he finds himself at the counter, music blasting at what feels like a soothing billion and five decibels, cutting potatoes like the cookbook he finds in the clutter of the trailer illustrates and bopping around to Dio’s Holy Diver. He isn’t much of a cook but there’s something comforting about the monotonous repetition of peeling and cutting, and plopping them into the pot of water. Comforting enough, in fact, that he doesn’t feel Steve’s eyes on him from the doorway, watching with a warm, fond smile. 

Steve watches and lets his thoughts drift, just for a moment, to future holidays. Of Memorial Day picnics, and Fourth of July pool parties, of birthdays, and Thanksgivings, and Christmases, and in all of them, every version and every iteration his hysterical, lovesick brain can conjure in that doorway, he wants this. He wants Eddie with wild hair just barely holding onto the elastic tying it back, with sweatpants that show his level of comfort around Steve, that show he can relax and not put on all of the airs he typically does for his look. Shit, he even wants to hear fucking Dio playing in the kitchen from the goddamn garage if it signals Eddie being present. 

He’s not sure when he started moving, but his body pulls him into the kitchen like the magnet holding the menu to the refrigerator door. 

“Hey,” he says, striding up to stand next to Eddie at the counter. “Need some help?” 

Eddie smiles and takes a sip of the beer Steve hasn’t seen until now, another indicator of Eddie making himself right at home. 

“The King assisting the lowly cook here? In the Castle kitchen? I’m honored.” Eddie fakes what Steve assumes is supposed to be a courtesy. He chuckles and hip bumps Eddie when he straightens back out. 

“Oh shut it and scoot over.” Steve’s voice betrays him, too syrupy and sweet to carry any annoyance, and Eddie notices. He turns just slightly, watching as Steve rummages through a drawer for a second knife. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you actually want to spend your morning making mashed potatoes with me, Steve.” 

He’s caught. Steve’s caught, hook, line, and sinker, and something about the genuine curiosity and hope in Eddie’s voice makes that okay. He doesn’t mind being caught when he’s in the safety of this domestic bubble with Eddie, because that’s what it is. It’s safe. 

The first round of potatoes don’t come out well. Their first kiss over the gloppy, gummy potatoes though? That goes perfectly.

[volturiprincess]

Gata Only

Felix Volturi x fem human reader

Summary: Felix chasing after his human mate as pyramid head. What happens when he finally reaches her? Warnings: Smut! Minors Skedaddle, Primal play, Foul Language, kind of an abrupt ending but I liked it🤭 A/N: I came up with this idea so long ago and at first it was just going to be like a chasing scene and thats it but I didn't want it to end up like another WIP. Also this idea came to mind when I reblogged this Pyramid head post a while ago (it has been on mind my since). The music inspiration for this was "Gata Only" by Floyymenor ft Cris Mj (seems perfect since my name is also Mj🤭) and "El Clavo (remix)" by Prince Royce and my man Maluma. Enjoy💙 Word Count: 2975

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Scratch….

Clang….

Scratch…

Clang….

SCRATCH!....

CLANG!

Is he getting closer!? The scraping of his long heavy great knife created a deep vibration that metaphorically created an electrical current to run through me. The corridor seems to go on for miles, there’s no ending to it or hope that I will make it out in time before he reaches me.

Even though he is not using his speed to reach me, his long strides that echo in the hallways along with his weapon makes me more eager to keep running for my life. My lungs feel like they are going to collapse from the sheer amount of oxygen I am inhaling and exhaling through my nose as I move forward. How am I still able to have enough energy to keep moving? I want to cry out for help, for someone to save me from this but there's no one, not one breathing or non-breathing soul is around for miles. 

I keep on breathing for my dear life, In…Out…In…Out. But I feel no matter how much I'm trying to compose my breathing to a steady beat my lungs are still trying to grasp for more oxygen. My legs feel like they will give out any minute now but refuse from the extensive vibration of the knife. The fear I am carrying is what is fueling me to keep going and not to look back, I do not want to see if he’s close or not.

But then the worst thing I could ever experience happened, silence. No more scraping or clanging noise, no more heavy footsteps and no more feeling the vibration of his knife run through my bones. Just pure silence followed. I could only hear my speeding heartbeat and my heavy breathing now. 

Should I turn around? What if when I do he’s right there ready to devour me or he’s at a distance hiding in the shadows this corridor holds? I decided to just do it, I turn slowly toward where I believe he would be but to my dismay I am  met with no one. No one is there. Not him, just shadows and the small light that the torches provide on the ancient looking brick walls Where can he be? Considering he’s a large man and easy to spot, the shadows seem to be on his side currently.

I thought for a split second my eyes saw a slight outline of a tall man with a pyramid like mask with a great knife resting over his shoulder as his exposed upper body was being countered by the shadows, making him seem unrealistic. But once I blinked the outline of the man was gone. Did I truly see him or not? 

I think the anticipation of trying to find him is making me see things to ease my mind. I stare at the spot where I believed I saw him a bit longer to see if I can actually see him but the dark shadows keep messing with my vision. I turn back to facing the way I was running toward too when….I see him.

There he is, twenty feet away. Just like I thought I imagined him earlier in the shadows. Tall and muscular, with his upper body exposed with spots of murk on his abdomen, chest and on his muscular arms I been blessed to have been wrapped around me multiple times. A dark brown cloth hanging dangerously low on his slutty waist, giving a glimpse of his v-line I could not get my eyes off. His great knife was resting on his shoulder, while doing so his arm was flexed at the perfect angle that showcased his mouth watering veins. But the star of the show, his mask, the classic pyramid head he got custom made for himself for this specific night was resting at an angle, almost taunting me to get on my knees for him.

Flashback

“Come on fe, it will be fun”

“I don’t know corazon, it sounds a bit…intense”

“Thats the purpose, its suppose to be like that and besides I thought you would like the idea, think of it like predator and prey kind of situation”

He paused for a minute, thinking over the words I told him. I can see I'm already convincing him in this, he finds it hard to say no to me. His mischievous little mate, always having little plans to spice things up in their lives. 

“Alright i'm convinced but on one condition”

I nod for him to continue, trying to mask my excitement to his agreement.

“You wear that one outfit that one princess wore in that space movie you showed me the other day, I wanna see your thighs exposed when I'm chasing you, deal?”

I shiver slightly at his words, now I know why he’s been wanting to watch Return of the Jedi more often. He’s been picturing me in that outfit, even if it's something I would never wear out in public, for him sure, he is my mate after all. 

“Deal”

With my agreement, he does not try to hide his own excitement, on the contrary he lets his infamous shit-eating grin spread across his lips. Not shying away in showing his sharp canines. He knows what that look does to me but I keep myself composed not wanting to feed his ego anymore.

Present

And so just with that talk, that's where we stand now. He still stands there, even if I cannot see his face currently. I know he has that said grin when I agreed to his part of the deal not that long ago. I'm astonished by how much effort he put into this, he is literally pyramid head in real life, the movies could never look like this vampire does. The way my eyes were ogling at his exposed upper limbs, out of all the times I saw this man completely exposed, I still have not gotten used to it. 

He drops his great knife, letting a loud clang echo in the empty hallways. It makes me flinch slightly but my eagerness to see what he does next leaves me no time to be scared. With the hand that was holding his knife, he removed his mask off in one swift movement. He definitely has been practicing in how to take it off because it was so smooth of a transition. His handsome face was finally revealed to me, and I was right, he did have that smirk plastered on. His eyes shamelessly scanned me from head to toe, not even bothering to hide the way his smirk seemed to grow more. When he returned back to my face, he bore his eyes into mine. His gaze was so intense that I could not find the strength to break eye contact, I was locked into him. 

Felix started to take precautions steps toward me, more like he was stalking towards me like a hungry predator does to its prey. In this case he is hungry, hungry for me. I took small backward steps until I was against the wall with him getting closer and closer before he stopped inches away from me. I felt my adrenaline increase more and my poor little heart was almost jumping out of my ribcage. He towered over me, glaring down at me when he reached a hand to grab my chin a bit forcefully but at the same time gently. No words have been spoken but our eyes alone are doing all the talking.. 

Without any warning he places his hands under my thighs lifting me up slightly, giving me a cue to wrap my legs around him. My hands immediately rest on his broad shoulders as he pressed himself into me. His muscular body has me pinned against the wall, flush against me, leaving no space inbetween. His grip on my thighs tightened slightly making me gasp slightly.

“Just what you wanted, huh?”

I nodded, still unable to speak yet.

“Awe are we being shy now? You were so excited for this and yet it seems cat caught your tongue”

I wanted to say something but his taunting is making it very hard for me to speak up, it's not even helping that I can feel how hard he is getting and how he is slightly grinding into me at a slow tortures pace. I needed more, wanted more but I knew if I spoke up it would come out more in whines and would make me look pathetic in front of him. He leaned into my neck, inhaling my scent. 

“Hmmmm, you smell so fucking delicious doll, seems all that running somehow made your scent more…addicting”

I shiver at his words. It has always caught me of guard when he curses, but fuck does he sound so hot. I thought for sure I would smell terrible after sweating bullets from the amount of running I had to do but the way I know this man would never lie to me when it comes to me, makes me feel reassured. I felt his cold lips on my throat, giving me a tenderful kiss that created another ripple of shivers to run down my body. His torturous pace of his grinding still maintains as I just accept that is all I'm getting right now. 

But his pace was rapidly building up my need for him, not that it was not already strong since the beginning of this primal play. 

I manage to horsley say “Felix..please”

“What's that doll? Couldn't hear you?”

Tease. “You heard me”

“Tsk,tsk. Are we getting an attitude now? I could walk away from you and leave you all hot and bothered. You want that?”

I shook my head immediately, knowing him I know he would do that, he’s done it before when I was being a “brat”. He shifted me higher up his body so I was right above his waist, the way he can just manhandle carelessly always leaves me breathless. 

“Just getting you ready for me, can't have you all dry now, can we?”

I shook my head once again but stayed quiet, not wanting to let my frustration show or accidentally say something I might regret later. But this is not enough for me, do I dare say something then?

“Fe?”

He stopped his movements to look into my eyes once again. “Yes?”

“Could you maybe…use your fingers instead, please?”

His grin returned immediately which caused my face to heat up in embarrassment from the request I asked him.

“Well look at you being a big girl and using your words doll, since you asked so nicely and even used please, I shall compromise this one time.” 

I sigh in relief as I felt one of his colossal hands move toward the waistband of the gold bikini bottom from my costume. I was unsure what he was about to do put the sudden tear of the material answered my question.

“Felix!?”

“Hmmm”

“W-why?”

He answered like it was nothing. “It was in the way”

For fucks sake, it took me forever to find these specific pair only for it to be ripped off. Should not have been surprised since anything scandalous like my current attire will not last long in one piece, he is a beast of a man for a reason. His previous actions of wandering continued as he let his hand get closer to where I needed him the most. His cold touch sent endless ripples to run through me as he finally did one long slow stroke to my heat with his pointer finger. It was such a delicious feel of his fingers that it almost made my eyes roll back.

“What a reaction, and I haven’t even fucked you yet”

I whimpered slightly as his words as his thumb started to draw small deep circles on my clit. I need more of him now. As if he could read my mind two of his thick long fingers went into my already growing wet pussy. Fuck! His fingers felt so good and his trust were ruthless. He even at some point stopped rubbing circles and instead was putting pressure on it. With just his fingers I was growing closer to my release. I think he realized too with the way I was clenching around his fingers.

I was so close….then he stopped. My eyes opened immediately and I looked at him. His grin still plastered on his face as he saw my disappointed look.

“Patience little love, just wanted to half prep you”

The fingers that were resting in me were pulled out and went to his lips. his tongue darted out to lick them  clean. The way his tongue cleaned off his fingers was such an erotic scene to witness. How can this man get anymore hot? And to top it off he maintained eye contact with me, as if I was not internally losing it over how sensual he looked with the way he was licking his fingers.

“So sweet, now i'm sure all that running made you sweeter in every aspect”

I give him a slight flustered look with how vulgar he is being. Still being hoisted up by my thighs and him having a firm grip on my waist, the hand that was minutes before inside of me moved to the cloth that was covering his lower limbs. He went to the side of where the cloth was being held and in one swift movement, much like how he removed the mask effortlessly, he pulled it apart to reveal his completely naked body to me. 

“No undergarments?”

“Thought it was unnecessary, plus it makes our situation more easier”

Easier said than done for sure. He leaned in to capture my lips into a searing kiss, his tongue pushing through my lips effortlessly with such a fierce passion. I gasp into the kiss enjoying the coldness he brings into my warm mouth. I felt him give out a deep groan as I felt his sharp canines graze my lower lip in a tantalizing promise of the pleasure he will give me soon enough. He breaks away from the kiss for me to catch my breath as his irises have finally succumbed to black and his red eyes were no more. He gives my waist a quick squeeze as he grabs his cock, rubbing the tip of it into my folds, teasing in a way until I see how he uses the arousal from earlier  as lubricant as he moves his hand in a stroking motion.

I take a quick breath as he looks back to me with a smirk on his handsome face as he watches me looking at the way he touches himself. 

“Ready?”

“Yes felix”

I would have just nodded but this cocky son of a bitch loves to tease me when I don't use my words, learned that lesson long ago unfortunately. He positions me and slips into me slowly, he knows he’s big and since i'm still human he always slips in slowly as to not cause any more harm. He pushes himself all the way in until our pelvises meet, the stretched once again like every time we done this is so addicting and oh so delicious. 

He pulls out almost all the way out but does a quick put powerful trust into me, catching me off guard but that immediately starts to set the pace of his trust. My eyes find it difficult to stay open and my mouth spills endless moans that Felix himself always craves to hear. With my eyes half lidded I catch the way how Felix’s eyes roll back, just with that sight it had me clenching around him signaling him that im close.

“Your so tight amore but fuck you feel so good wrapped around my cock” 

The long empty hallways are echoed with the sound of our skin slapping as he increases his speed to a more powerful trust. He leans into my neck letting his teeth scrape along my neck, but not enough to draw blood. He nips and sucks along my skin as to mark me.

He pulled his face away from my neck to mumble a quick “Just a little something to remember this night cara”

I felt Felix’s cock twitch inside me, as his swollen head kept on rubbing against my inner walls. Everytime he would pull out slightly and slam back into me left me seeing stars for a brief couple of seconds. All thoughts have been knocked out of my mind as all I can focus on was him alone. How his abs tensed slightly as he was holding himself back from going feral or the way he was biting his lip to hold in any loud moans that I am desperate to hear. I lean into his shoulder and sink my teeth into it, knowing that will get what I want to hear, his moans. Soon enough he is the one becoming more vocal than me, and his moans are echoing in the hall.

I turn my head slightly up to him to see his eyes fill with tears. Wanting to push him away to ask what happened or if I somehow hurted him with the bite, which is highly unlikely but you never know. He instead started to trust into me a bit sloppy and slower to really capture the love.

“You crying fe?”

He shakes his head as he sucks in an unnecessary breath “No cara, it's just your pussy feels so good wrapped around me”

Pussy so good, I made a whole ass unit of a man cry. So much for primal play, and him having to hunt me down to fuck me until I'm the one crying. Pyramid head wasndefinitely the best idea i ever had, second to staying in Italy forever with Felix.

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A/N: I have always enjoyed writing Felix's dialogue, the way when I re-read some of the things I have him say always catch me off guard and a bit flustered sometimes. I might of not used a certain line that a certain white haired blue eyed man has said in an anime🤭. Anyways....Happy Halloween🎃

[riacte]

There’s only one slot left.

Fruit’s panicking, because he knows he won’t make it. Technically, there’s a chance, but he dooms himself before he can get his hopes up.

Still, he runs. The cold wind feels like a knife against his cheek. He nimbly slips through crushing walls, ducks a large swinging hammer, and makes his way to the finish line where he swears he can hear his friends—

One of those damn ventilation fans. How much does he loathe the mandatory wait.

Fruit’s forced to wait anxiously, time ticking. Death is approaching, surely this fan will be his downfall, surely he’s gonna die, surely—

“Aww, Fruitberries.”

No way. A familiar voice behind him. Fruit can’t afford to dwell on that, so when the fan pushes both of them up, Fruit doesn’t think. He just bolts for the exit.

Because of fucking course it’s Iskall. Iskall, the one who sought him out on day one when Fruit had planned to greet Ren and the other hermits he knew from MCC. Iskall, who bribed him with ten gifted and promised to be bros. Iskall, who looked so lonely and distraught after his friends died in the doll game and Fruit had smiled at him to make him feel better.

Iskall and him. Fighting for the last place.

They’re on the same team too, aren’t they? Sneeg chose them both and thank fuck for Sneeg. Fruit had wanted Iskall before all of that, but he couldn’t really vocalise it to the group. Iskall had charmed him over (the hermits are always a charming bunch), he wanted to help him out, it looked like it wasn’t going to work out, but it did, and now it looks like it’s not going to work out.

Fruit sees his friends across the finish line and he can’t even bother to smile because he’s so damn tense. They’re screaming and yelling for him, cheering his name, arms outstretched. They’re calling for him to live. To live on like the rest of them. To step into the sun.

Half a second.

That’s the lead Fruit has over Iskall. He steps over, falls into the arms of someone, there’s a raucous cheer, he feels like he’s stopped breathing even though the ominous bell tells him he lived.

He lived! Fruit lives!

But that can only mean one thing.

Fruit turns around. Iskall is frozen right before the finish line, a peculiar look in his eyes— defeat, sadness, yet with a strange look of pride.

Iskall is the last surviving hermit. His buddies, the buddies that Fruit knows of, all got eliminated. Their wishes live on via Iskall. And now their wishes live on via Fruit.

“I’m sorry,” Fruit manages to get out. It was either him or Iskall. There was no beating around the bush. He lived, so Iskall died.

Iskall, his day one buddy. Iskall who sought him out in a baffling interaction. Iskall, whom Fruit was relieved to team with.

But Fruit’s got his own goal too. He wants to win with his buddies, he’s got his own wishes to carry on, and he wants to live.

This started out as a lighthearted comedy, and now it’s abruptly a tragedy. But despite everything, the ice cold Iskall manages to smile.

“Good luck, Fruit. You deserved this.”

Iskall turns grey and dissipates into the dark mist, leaving no trace behind. So close, yet so far. The divide between shadow and light. Orpheus and Eurydice. Iskall dies. Fruit lives. The competition goes on.

Fruit looks at the emptiness—

and looks away.