#absolute word vomit under cut

[crazypossumman]

"The state has no interest in ethics... They're too much of a variable to use as a guideline."

-this is the fucking line that goes the hardest in all of FMAB (imo) and I don't even know if it's from a named character

I have been perplexed my entire life on the concept of law and ethics. Morality and ethics exist, undoubtedly, but are different to each individual. So how do we decide whose morals we will base our laws on? Choosing those the most lenient would surely lead to chaos, where as choosing those the most conservative would restrict limitless personal freedoms.

Humans seem to struggle enough with this, so the idea in FMAB that Father and the subsequent government/country he created operates complete based on logic in accordance to their goals is so fucked up. As a human being, it is so difficult to imagine having no regard for human life aside from energy. Yeah, there are horrible people in the world; there are people who see others as pawns, objects, etc. But to see humans as nothing more than fuel to achieve one's goal, to have no connection to anyone or anything in this world... it makes them seem so undeniably inhuman.

It's just insanely good writing is all. And I have normal feelings about it. Just as I have normal feelings about the philosophical dilemma presented by ethics and law.

[sescoups]

favorite coworker - choi vernon

masterlist

word count: ~5.3k (i'm so sorry)

summary: vernon is your favorite. he just gets you. of course you can't resist him - not that you would ever want to.

a/n: this is definitely NOT proofread, and i'm sorry. idk i just have the fattest crush on vernon, honestly i can't be held accountable

18+, MDNI!!! warnings under the cut <3

warnings: oral (m. receiving), making out, creepy old man (he doesn't do anything, he's just a creep), mention of vomit, lmk if i missed anything! <3

“Wait so hang on, you mean to tell me you’ve never what..? Gone down on a guy?”

“Oh yell it out, why don’t you,” you groan, smacking your forehead into the counter. Thank fuck you just cleaned it.

Vernon is your coworker at the record store in the middle of the city. He’s super chill, does what he’s supposed to but doesn’t stress out or get pissy if you’re having a bad day and work slowly. He’s great. He’s just… a bit unaware of his surroundings, a lot of the time. You’re lucky only two people are in the store at the moment, or you would have simply passed away.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, holding up his hands in a gesture of peace. “I just kinda can’t believe it? I mean, you’ve had sex for sure, right?”

“Yes, Vernon.” You roll your eyes and glare at an old man who is shamelessly looking you up and down. “I’ve had sex before. Just not a lot, I guess. And why is it so hard to believe?”

Had he been looking at your face, your raised eyebrow might have tipped him off to the fact that he should drop the topic and back off. Unfortunately, in typical Vernon fashion, he was doodling nonsense on a notepad, so he missed it completely.

“Well I mean, you’re hot,” he said before finally looking up at you. He started tapping his pen against the counter, leaning his weight on one hand against the counter. “You’re also pretty open about your life in general, so I just figured two plus two equals one, you know.”

“What the fu- Vernon. Think about what you just said.”

“Oh fuck. Yeah I deserved to fail math in high school.”

You burst into laughter at his words. This is exactly why you love Vernon, and why he’s your favorite coworker. You’re laughing so hard you barely manage to greet the new customer who just entered the store. Your coworker is smiling, satisfied with his ability to make you laugh.

The old man who is still eyeing you, now with extra focus on your boobs, comes up to the register just as you manage to sober up from your laughing fit. You clear your throat and turn to face him, giving him a tiny smile in the spirit of customer service. Apparently a mistake.

“Excuse me, sweetheart,” he starts, running his tongue over his front teeth in what you suspect is supposed to be a seduction attempt. “Would you mind maybe showing me some of the records you have in the back?”

The smile leaves your face immediately, and you’re about to absolutely emaciate him when Vernon cuts in to make sure you do not lose your job over some smarmy geezer.

“She cannot, sir. It’s store policy. Soz.”

You hold your snort in, but barely. The old man huffs and glares at the man next to you, crossing his arms over his chest. Honestly, you’re curious at this point. You’ve never seen Vernon handle confrontation - again, very chill dude - but you also know he is very protective over his friends.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” the old man says with an eye roll. “I was talking to the pretty young lady.”

His smile sends a shiver down your spine, and you take a deep breath. The old man watches your boobs rise and fall. Seriously, fuck this guy. You force the customer service smile back on your face because you actually really like and need this job, and decide this sack of shit isn’t worth it.

“He’s right, sir. It’s against store policy, and I’m currently on register duty. If there is a specific record you wish to see, we can look it up in the system.”

“I’ll keep looking for a while… in case you change your mind.”

The way he winks at you makes your blood boil, and it’s a wonder your teeth don’t crack from the pressure of your jaw. The man walks away, and so does Vernon. He can’t really kick the guy out unless he does something physical, so you don’t know what he’s trying to do. Soon, though, your confusion melts into amusement and glee as you watch your coworker follow the man around the store, loudly dissing his music taste whenever he picks up a record. He keeps walking just a little bit too close for comfort, and after about three minutes, the man gives up.

You take huge pleasure in the way the man skulks out, hands in his pockets and back hunched over as if he’s trying to get away from something - or someone. Returning to the register, Vernon grins to himself and resumes his doodling without a word. You shake your head in amazement before going to help the other two customers in the store.

The next time you’re working with Vernon, you have the closing shift. Usually only one person is supposed to stay back after closing and clean up, but you just received a large shipment of vinyls that need to be sorted and placed into protective sleeves, so the two of you are working overtime together.

It’s a pretty slow shift, and the two of you pass the time by playing music for one another and guessing the artist and the title. You’re much better at it than he is, but only because you’re good at memorizing things; he has a far more varied music taste than you, and would easily have won had he remembered more than two song names and five artists. As per the terms of the game, the loser has to go out to get the dinner you preordered from a restaurant down the street. It’s not far, but it’s raining, so you’re glad to be exempt.

While your colleague is gone, you close out the register and sweep the floor so you only have the vinyl sorting left after you’ve eaten. The break room smells like wet dog and Doritos, so you bring two chairs out together with the foldable table that you’re going to use to sort the vinyls. Since no one is in the store anyway, you can people watch through the windows while you eat.

Vernon comes back in just as you finish setting up, soaking wet from the pouring rain. You coo at him when he shivers, and he shoots you a playful glare. He ends up holding his glare for all of two seconds before a wide smile stretches across his face.

“I left an extra shirt here at some point, do you think it smells like teenage boy?”

You escape the break room with two plates and some utensils in hand, laughing at his question and probably unfortunate fate.

“Because of the proximity to the break room? Probably. That shit is unavoidable.”

He grimaces before taking his jacket off, hanging it on a hook behind the register. He disappears to change while you plate the food, humming to yourself. You try not to think about how he’s probably half naked right now, and turn your attention to the fact that he most likely will smell atrocious to keep your head on straight.

You do love Vernon. He’s a great coworker, obviously, and he’s a great friend too, but that’s not really the full extent of it. You’ve been battling your crush on him for months now, because it’s pretty clear that he isn’t interested in you. Besides, if you ever did date, things would get awkward at work if you broke up. No, he is one of those people who should stay firmly at arm’s length. Unfortunately.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a loud bang, making you jump a good foot in the air.

“What the fuck, Nonnie?”

“Sorry,” he grimaces, checking that the door he managed to fling directly into the wall hadn’t done any damage. “I tripped.”

“Only you, Vern,” you sigh. “Well, food is ready to go. Let’s eat!”

The meal, consisting of some kimchi jjigae, rice and side salad, passes by in relative silence. You occasionally hum in content, and Vernon often slurps his jjigae really loudly which prompts you to giggle. He always looks glad to have amused you, and you need to look away often in order to control your emotions.

“Dude,” he groans after his third serving, “I’m so fucking full.”

“I’m not the one who got an order for five people, genius,” you groan back, your own stomach feeling like a water balloon. “So good though.”

“So good,” he nods earnestly.

You can’t stand to look at him like this; you need something to do with your hands. So you stand up and stretch, which actually does help the food settle in your stomach a bit. Your hair, tied in a bun to avoid getting any food in it, comes down to release some of the pressure on your scalp, and then you feel ready to get started.

“Take all the time you need, man, but I’m gonna start on the first box. I want to get home before dawn, if I can.”

He flashes you a thumbs up and slumps against the table to enter into a food coma. You scoff at him and shake your head before clearing the dishes from the table. Thank God you have a dishwasher in the break room.

You bring out the first box and start sorting it, referencing the list you have as you go to take inventory. It’s repetitive work, but it’s kind of soothing, too. You do your best to make the plastic of the vinyl coverings crinkle as little as possible, wanting Vernon to rest for as long as he needs to. Three servings of kimchi jjigae would make anyone drowsy.

The first sign that he is still alive comes ten minutes later when he starts drumming a random rhythm on the table. You snort when you recognize the rhythm, pausing with a vinyl halfway into its covering.

“You can’t drum the melody to Dun Dun Dance, Vernon.”

“I can do whatever I want,” he protests weakly, cheek still pressed firmly against the table surface. “But nicely done. What about this one?” He drums out another rhythm, and now that you know it’s a melody he’s following, you recognize it quicker.

“That’s Candy by H.O.T.”

“Nice.”

“You gonna work or rest, bud?”

Vernon whines at your words and rolls his head to rest his forehead against the table instead. You wait patiently as he gathers the strength to sit up properly and kick a box of vinyls over to him when he seems more alive.

“Life isn’t fair,” he pouts, “I just did so much work eating all that food, and now I gotta do more?”

“It’s like that,” you agree absentmindedly, marking off a stack of vinyls on your list. “Can you turn on some music, please? The silence is creepy.”

He nods and connects his phone to the store speakers, choosing the playlist the two of you created together on a similar night of overtime. After that, the two of you slip into a rhythm together, unpacking vinyls, checking the list, and then putting them into a protective sleeve. It’s mostly silent aside from the music, and sometimes Vernon drums along to the beat on the table, but it’s comfortable. You kind of don’t mind spending a few hours like this.

When you’re two thirds through the stack of boxes, you both decide to take a break. Your saint of a colleague brews some coffee, and you hop onto the checkout counter to browse through your phone while your brain cells take a well-deserved rest.

“Bless you,” you say as you accept a mug full of coffee. “We’re making pretty good time today, eh?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, taking a sip and wincing at the scalding temperature. “We haven’t really been talking, so.”

“That jjigae really took you out, huh?”

“Oh yeah.”

You grin at him and blow gently over your coffee. It’s still too hot to drink, as evidenced by the steam rising from it, but the smell alone is kind of waking you up. Vernon grabs your attention by clearing his throat gently, and you turn to look at him. He’s fidgeting a bit with a pen left on the counter close to your thigh.

“I, uh… I wanted to say I’m sorry about that dude the other day. The creepy one. I probably should have kicked him out, but I didn’t know if I could…”

Your heart melted a little in your chest. It was obvious he had been carrying this around with him, mulling it over and worrying about it. About you. It was endearing, and dangerous for your heart. You bit your lip and placed your coffee mug on the counter next to you.

“It’s okay,” you say earnestly. “He sucked, and I was uncomfortable, but you still made him leave. I didn’t feel like I was in danger or anything, so don’t worry about it.”

“I just feel like it’s partially my fault, for kind of yelling about the fact that you’ve never sucked a dick before.” You’re incredibly grateful that you weren’t drinking coffee at that moment, because you definitely would have spat it out all over the floor. His bluntness never ceased to surprise you. It was unbearably adorable. “I should be more aware of my surroundings, especially when talking about something sensitive like that.”

“Well,” you start, pausing thoughtfully. “I don’t really think that man would have acted differently either way, to be honest with you. Men like that are just… like that. I also don’t really care who knows I’ve never given a blowjob before. It doesn’t matter, at the end of the day. I haven’t done it because I haven’t slept with anyone who’s dick I wanted to suck, and that’s all. I just wish I knew how sometimes, you know?”

He shuffles his weight around at your words, shifting from foot to foot. He’s still fumbling with the pen on the counter, but now his fingers are clumsier than usual. You glance up at his face only to find him staring into empty space in front of him. You figure you made him uncomfortable with your oversharing.

“Sorry. That was TMI.”

“No,” he answers quickly. “We share everything. I told you when I threw up on Seungkwan’s lap and cried because I felt bad, didn’t I?” You smile at the reminder and nod. He finally meets your eyes again. “I was just thinking, you know.”

“What about?”

Vernon’s mind is the most fascinating thing to you. The way he thinks is so out of the box and different, and so beautiful. He has shown you the lyrics he writes for his friend Jihoon sometimes, and they’re so poetic you find yourself turning them over in your mind for days afterward. And the best part about it is that he always answers you when you ask what’s going on inside his head. He grants you access to his thoughts and feelings, and it’s the greatest gift you’ve ever received.

“Well. I don’t know if this is going to come off as creepy or not,” he warns, “but I was thinking like… Maybe you should just get it over with.”

“Get what over with?” Your eyebrow rises as you ask the question, and his furrow in response.

“I just mean that you could know how to give a good blowjob, if you wanted to. You could just… pick someone to sleep with. And ask them to teach you. You know?”

“Nonnie,” you start, and your bewildered tone makes him shrink a little. “You really believe the best of people, don’t you?”

“Well- I mean yes, but I didn't mean you should just sleep with anyone. You could just pick someone you already know.”

His words give you pause. You have plenty of friends in possession of a penis, but the thought of sleeping with most of them feels kinda gross. The one exception is… Well, Vernon. And you sincerely doubt that he is offering himself up. So you do what you always do and make a joke to force your mind away from the thought of sucking on your friend’s dick until he cums for you.

“What, are you offering?”

“I mean, yeah,” he shrugs.

You stop breathing. He is actually, genuinely offering to teach you how to suck dick. More specifically, his dick. The one that has been the star of many of your more illicit fantasies. You want to say yes so badly, want to finally get the experience of being something more to him, but you also don’t want to get ahead of yourself. But…

The room is silent while you’re thinking. You feel his eyes on the side of your face, feel the way he’s cataloging every emotion that overtakes your features, and you swallow harshly. Your heart is beating out of your chest and your hands are shaking, and your brain is running a mile a minute with no end in sight.

Then Vernon places his hand on your thigh. His touch is warm but light, ready to pull away as soon as you want him to, but it’s enough to bring your soul back into your body and get a grasp on your thoughts and feelings. You bite your lower lip and breathe in deeply before letting it go. Yeah, you’re doing this.

“I uh, I’m going to need some guidance,” you say, and you almost miss the way your friend’s eyes widen at your words.

“O-Of course. And if you want to stop at any time, just like, tell me, yeah?”

You smile at the comfort his words bring you. “Yeah.”

There is silence once again, but this one is heavy with a different kind of tension. You both know what’s happening, but you don’t know what your next move should be. Technically, you should be working and saving any… other activities for your own free time, but you don’t think waiting is something you’re capable of at this point.

He is the one to make the first move, placing his half-empty mug on the counter and placing himself between your legs. His hands find a place on your waist, bunching the fabric of your shirt slightly. Sitting on the counter means you’re a little bit taller than he is, but you really don’t mind it. He holds your gaze for a few seconds before his left hand lifts to cup your face.

“Are you okay with kissing?” His voice is a bit deeper than normal, and you would be lying if you said it didn’t make heat pool between your legs. “I understand if not, but-”

You interrupt him with a gentle kiss. His lips are pillowy against yours, smooth and plump. You thank your past self for bullying him into using chapstick, because you can honestly say that this might be your favorite kiss ever.

Vernon’s hand moves from your jaw to rake through your hair, and you moan a little when his fingers catch a little in the back. He responds by stepping even closer to you and sliding his entire arm around your back, your chest pressing against his deliciously. The only thought going through your mind is the fact that you are kissing your favorite coworker, and how you really, really want to bury his cock in your throat.

He chases after you when you pull away slightly to catch your breath, and you don’t even mind that the oxygen deprivation is making you dizzy. You slump against him a little when he tugs on your hair again, and you move to return the favor. As soon as you pull on the hair at the back of his neck, he forces himself to pull away and gulp down some air.

His eyes are glazed over, his lips slick with a mix of your and his saliva, and his chest is rising and falling where it’s pressed against yours. It's painfully attractive. He rasps out a quiet groan and leans his forehead against yours. You love the feeling of his harsh breaths hitting your face and answer back with your own.

You feel like you’re in a bubble, because the world around you feels muted and time feels like it has stopped moving. You wouldn’t be surprised if the earth had stopped spinning.

“Sorry,” he breathes. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and inhales your scent. “I just really wanted to do that.”

“Stop apologizing,” you respond, bringing your hand onto his head to scratch at his scalp. “I liked it. Maybe a bit too much.”

Your words bring a whine out of Vernon, and he squeezes you tighter. You’re still on top of the counter, but you can feel his bulge against the inside of your thigh. It twitches against you every time you tug at the ends of his hair, and it makes you smile.

One of your hands snakes down and cups him through his jeans. He reacts strongly despite the thick material separating you. His willingness to show you how good you make him feel make you fall for him all over again. As if he wasn’t already perfect enough.

“Y/N,” he gulps when you move your hand against him, “we’re taking this at your pace, and I can go as slowly as you want to, but I think I might go insane if I don’t get these pants off.”

You giggle breathlessly as you pull away from him, and he forces himself to take a step back from you. You lean back on your hands, your knees still spread from where he was standing previously. He’s distracted for a few seconds before he finally remembers to unbutton his jeans and tugs them down his legs.

The bulge had been apparent through the jeans, but you can truly tell how hard he is when they come off. The way he twitches in his boxers is so obvious you almost feel bad for him. You decide it’s time you follow through and receive your lesson.

You hop off the counter and slide onto your knees in front of him. It’s unfair how attractive he is even from this angle, you think, and slide your hands up his thighs. You’ve given handjobs before, so it’s not exactly your first time touching a dick, but the goal is different now. This time, your hands are just the warmup and not the main event. You’re just hoping you can bring him some sort of pleasure in spite of your inexperience.

“Tell me how to start,” you whisper up at him. He blinks a few times at the sight of you before sucking in a deep breath.

“Yeah,” he rasps. His throat is already dry with anticipation. “I uh, I mean everyone is different when it comes to this stuff, so uh-”

“Just teach me what you like, Nonnie.” Your hands are massaging his thighs, nails digging into his skin every now and then. Whenever they do, you can feel him shudder.

“O-Oh, okay,” he breathes, sounding broken already. “I prefer skipping the handjob first, I guess. I really l-like the feeling of licking, especially at the tip, and uh-” He is becoming redder by the second. “One step at a time. Uhm, start by removing my boxers.”

You nod obediently and slide your hands up to his lower tummy, watching the expressions of pleasure as they take over his face. You assume you will never get to do this again, so you do your best to burn it all into your mind for later use on lonely nights spent with your vibrator. He shudders again when your nails scratch his skin lightly. Your fingers curl around the hem of his underwear and tug.

His cock is beautiful. It’s pretty long, curving slightly towards his stomach, and the tip of it is a perfect shade of peach. Your mouth waters at the thought of getting to taste it, and you eye the drop of precum spilling from the tip. You gently shuffle closer, but he stops you.

“Sorry, you’re fine, I just need something to lean against,” he explains when you look at him in fear of having done something wrong. He maneuvers you both so that he’s leaning against the counter you were sitting on not five minutes ago, and you’re in front of him.

“What now, Nonnie?” you ask, his eyes shutting and chest expanding to accommodate a deep breath.

“You should probably just uh, stroke me a few times first. Then uhm, then you can do whatever you want.” You blink at him a few times, trying to indicate that he’s supposed to be teaching you how to do this. For once, he gets the hint. “Like I said, I uh, like licking. When you take me in you just have to make sure not to like, bite me. Other than that, you can take it at your own speed and depth - for your comfort, of course, but I’m also not picky.”

You admire the flush decorating his cheeks and neck. He looks so good like this, towering over you and looking at you like you hold the answer to his ultimate pleasure. You try to convince yourself that you do, that you will be able to listen and follow his guidance well enough that this will feel good for him. You decide that you will.

Raising your right hand, you grip him tightly in your fist. It makes him suck in a breath, and you feel the muscles in his thighs tense up. You pump him a few times, going slow and using his precum as lube. It’s not enough, of course, but you will move on soon.

“Fuck…” he heaves, leaning back onto the counter even more. He looks into your eyes and swears again. “Please, sweetheart, as soon as you’re ready, I-I want-”

You cut him off by pressing your tongue against the head of his dick. The flavor is salty and a little bit bitter, but it tastes like heaven. Your eyes briefly slip closed as you continue kitten-licking at his slit, and he lets out a winy moan. You open your eyes and look at him, only to find him with his head tilted back to look at the ceiling.

“How is this?” you pause to ask, continuing before he’s had time to answer.

“Good, baby,” Vernon answers through his labored breathing. “So, so good. Keep going, you’re doing great.”

The praise bolsters your confidence, and you give a long lick from his base to his tip. The motion makes him moan again, so you repeat it a few more times. In no time at all, his cock is covered in a mixture of your saliva and his own precum. You decide it’s time to try and take him in your mouth - both because you’ve teased him enough, but you’re also too impatient to wait anymore.

His tip breaches the heat of your mouth , and you find you have to open your jaw quite a bit to accommodate him. A punched out groan leaves him, and one of his hands comes down to tangle in your hair. When a strand of it falls in front of your face, he gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail at the back of your head.

You love the weight of him on your tongue, and dare to sink down a bit lower. He hits the top of your mouth. You gag around him, and he gently pulls you off of him to check on you.

“You okay? You don’t have to keep going,” he reminds you. It only serves to make you more determined to make him cum down the back of your throat.

“What can I do better?” you ask while stroking him in your hand. You still want to improve.

“Honestly?” he wheezes, his hips jumping of their own accord. “You’re doing great.” You glare a bit at him, and he smiles down at you apologetically. “Sorry. But you are doing great. Maybe try sucking a bit more? Not just placing me in your mouth.”

You nod and sink right back down on him. His noises of pleasure are never-ending, and they only increase in volume as well as frequency once you properly suck around him. You bob up and down on him, his hand clenching in your hair as he’s doing his best not to fuck your throat. You’re making it pretty hard.

“Please, baby, I’m gonna fucking- Where do you want me to cum?”

His voice is hoarse and strained, and his grip on your hair has grown so tight it’s stinging your scalp. You savor the pain and rub your thighs together, mewling around him. You grip his ass and push deeper to signal for him to cum in your mouth, and it’s not a second too soon because he immediately spills his seed into you.

Vernon cums so much that some spills out onto your chin, but you diligently swallow what you can. He tries to keep his eyes on you, but his vision quite literally whites out as he reaches his high, so his eyes screw shut without his permission. You, on the other hand, couldn’t tear your gaze from him if you tried. He’s beautiful when he cums, his eyebrows scrunched in what almost looks like pain and his jaw slack in awe. His thighs tremble, and you’re glad he’s leaning against the counter so he doesn’t collapse onto the floor.

“Fuck, how are you so good at this,” he heaves out when his vision returns. You just smirk up at him, some of his cum still covering your chin and lips.

“I had a good teacher,” you tease back. Your voice is raspy after bobbing on his cock, and he finds it painfully attractive.

He notices the way you clench your thighs together and realizes you’re still on the floor. He’s quick to bend down and help you to your feet. As soon as you’re in front of him, he’s kissing you. He doesn’t care about the cum transferring from your chin to his, nor the fact that his softening dick is still out in the open; all he can think about is that he wants to pay you back for what you just did for him.

“Nonnie,” you breathe between kisses, and instead of pulling away it makes him kiss you harder, faster, deeper. He loves when you call him that. He reluctantly pulls away when you push gently against his chest, though. “We should finish the-”

“I need to eat you out, baby. Please, please let me.” His interruption surprises you, and so does his suggestion. He must see your confusion, because he quickly clears things up for you. “I want to, because I like you so much. I promise to ask you to be my girlfriend after this, but please, let me eat you out first.”

“Okay, but Nonnie-” you say, but he interrupts you with a passionate kiss as he mumbles thanks against your lips. “Nonnie.” He sighs and pulls away, resting his forehead against yours. He closes his eyes to stop himself from jumping you again, and you smile. “I’ll say yes right now. I want to be your girlfriend. Is that okay?”

He kisses you so deeply you lose track of where he starts and you end, but you’re just so glad to be kissing him again you probably couldn’t have figured it out anyway. You don’t talk much more that evening, and you definitely don’t get home before midnight, but at least you go home and fall into bed together. Maybe his inattentiveness was a blessing, after all.

masterlist

a/n: don't forget to like and reblog if you enjoyed this post! <3

[mattluvr]

CEO!matt that the only reason he calls reader to his office is to see what outfit she's wearing (he stares SHAMELESSLY at her tits)

for the third time this morning, the buzzer on your intercom rings, displaying the same familiar name; matt.

he’s not left you alone so far today, constantly seeking your assistance with the smallest, most insignificant things. who the fuck needs help deciding whether a document to be printed should be double sided or not? there’s definitely an ulterior motive behind his actions, but you don’t want to make any false judgments. so you answer his call with a pinched face.

“yes, mr sturniolo?”

there’s a strangled noise on the other end of the line and your eyebrows shoot upwards in concern; maybe he’s choking and that’s why he’s called you? you start to roll your chair back, ready to spring into action when matt finally speaks. thank god; you didn’t know the heimlich manoeuvre.

“could you come to the office real quick?” who could’ve guessed. “i have a question to ask you.”

you grit your teeth. “absolutely. i’ll be a minute or so, kinda swamped in work over here sir!”

“alright, that’s fine.” another strangled noise from his end, this one concealed but still audible. “just come up when you’re not busy.”

you thank him, ending the call and jumping back to your laptop to finish writing up an email, eyes creasing as you cringe at your formal language. it doesn’t take too long, thankfully, and soon enough you find yourself outside matt’s office, a folder tucked under your arm as you prepare for whatever unnecessary question is about to be thrown your way.

it’s worse than you imagine.

“how many sugars does an average person have in their coffee?” matt asks you as you open the door with caution; he sits behind his desk, tie loosened around his neck as he carelessly scrolls through his phone.

you can’t believe it; CEO of the fucking company and both incompetent and clearly bored of his own job. so privileged yet so spoiled, and you can’t help but scoff at him. he raises an eyebrow, placing his phone down. “you have a problem?”

“nothing, sir, it’s just…” you exhale through your nose harshly, squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to stop the word vomit. but it’s too late. “don’t you think you should take your job a bit more seriously?”

matt blinks, stunned into silence as you continue. “i mean, you are the CEO, and i don’t think it’s appropriate to be constantly asking your secretary to come to your office to ask stupid questions about sugars in coffee.”

“it wasn’t stupid. it was genuine.” matt challenges, trying to hide his smirk at the sight of you getting more and more frustrated. he likes the sight of you all worked up.

“use google!” you gesticulate, throwing your head back as you groan. composure, you remind yourself, and you lower your head to lock eyes with matt. “sorry, sir. it’s just i have a lot of work to do. it’s quite inconvenient for you to be always calling me up to your office.”

he hums, tapping his fingers on his lips as he thinks of something to say back. but he’s rendered speechless, leaning back in his chair with a shrug. he doesn’t have the heart to tell you the real reason he called you up here, so with a dismissive hand, matt waves you and your low cut shirt away.

and you go, biting your tongue to stop a rogue asshole rolling off your lips, your hips swaying as you turn towards the door. “i’ll send you today’s analytics through before i go for lunch.” are your last words, and matt slouches down into his chair as he nods, watching with beady eyes as the door shuts behind you.

he smiles to himself, loosening his tie as his hand falls to his pants, palming his bulge. all of that just to see your tits spilling out your white button up? worth it. so very worth it.

taglist. . . ( @mattslolita, @aelinslegend, @chrissturniolossidehoe, @mattbrainrot, @conspiracy-ash, @emely9274, @matts1freak, @h3arts4nat, @sturn777 ) is open!

divider credits. . . @issysh3ll

(pls send some more scenarios for CEO!matt into my inbox!)

[nicksbestie]

Migraines - M. Sturniolo

Summary : Matt struggles with chronic migraines, and some days there isn't much that you can do, but that never means you don't try,

Warnings : mentions of vomiting and nausea, a small bit of crying

Word Count : 1313

Pairing : Matt Sturniolo/Reader (romantic)

A/N : i got inspo from this photo of matt <3

Living an entire two decades of life with chronic migraines was an absolutely miserable thing.

Matt was nearing his twenty-first birthday, and he was desperate to find something in his life that would help with these migraines. He had gone through prescription after prescription, doctor appointment after doctor appointment, specialist after specialist, and nothing had helped the splitting pain. He had a migraine tracker on his phone so that he could tell the percentage of how often he had migraines, and it was well over sixty percent of every month. It was quite depressing to look at, and even more depressing to live. It really affected Matt’s happiness and day to day life. 

All of their YouTube videos were filmed on Matt’s good days. They would change outfits so that they could film five to six videos in one day, gathering a lot of topics so that they would have tons to post when it came time to put them all up. Both of his brothers were incredibly caring and didn’t mind the way that they had to do things, and both wanted to do everything possible to make it easier for their middle sibling. They rode with Matt in an Uber every time his migraine was too bad for him to drive, so that he wouldn’t have to be alone, especially at a doctor’s office, a place he was already generally hesitant to be at. They truly were always by his side, arguing with doctors that told him it was anxiety based, or that he was exaggerating, when he didn’t have the energy to argue for himself.

Today was a bad day for him. Chris and Nick had left before Matt had woken up, so they had no idea that he was struggling, because the light from his phone, even at the lowest setting, wasn’t low enough to not send stabbing pains through his head, so he hadn’t texted. He hadn’t had the energy to call and speak to them either. All he had done was gotten up and shut the blinds, covering them up with blackout screens that he had bought a couple years back, because he needed all of the light out. They worked incredibly well, and he had cut off the dim lighting in his room that he’d slept with, needing complete darkness.

He had no idea how long he had laid there, he just knew he was in pain. Unbeknownst to him, when you noticed that he didn’t reply to your text, you were immediately concerned, and already on your way over. You’d seen that he’d read it, so you knew he was awake, and he hadn’t replied. He never left you on read, unless he couldn’t bear to look at his phone screen any longer, which meant he had a terrible migraine. You’d wasted no time getting ready, and due to the fact that Matt didn’t wake up until almost two in the afternoon, you didn’t get over there until almost four. You had your own key, both because of instances like these, and because of the fact that you had been together for almost two years now. Letting yourself in, you texted Chris and Nick, telling them that you were there as well.

You wasted no time in going upstairs, gently opening Matt’s door, and immediately closing it behind you, because while the light in the hallway wasn’t on, the daylight would filter in, and you knew it would aggravate his head. Seeing him face down on the bed, under covers and pillows, you gently whispered your greeting, telling him so he wouldn’t freak out, though you doubted he had the energy to freak out on you. You pressed a kiss to the back of his neck, rubbing his back and laying down next to him. He curled into your chest, and you could see the remnants of tear tracks on his face. You laid a kiss to his forehead, gently running your hand over it and through his hair. Your hands were a cooler temperature, and you could tell that it felt good and soothed his pain for a few seconds. You laid a palm on his forehead, wanting to help him feel better any way that you could. 

You laid with him for about an hour, helping hold the trash can at the side of his bed when the pain got to be so bad that it caused him to throw up, helping wipe his face off and get him laid back down, before realizing he hadn’t eaten anything all day, so it probably wouldn’t get much better. You laid there for a little while longer, thinking about what to do to help him, when you remembered a trick that had helped you when you had a terrible migraine one day. You softly untangled yourself from him, whispering that he could stay right there and you would be right back.

You went into the bathroom, turning a small, very dim, light on in the corner so you could see what was going on around you. You began running a warm bath, letting it run while you went to get Matt a small snack. You set it down on the edge of the bathtub, on the side touching the wall, and went to go get your boyfriend. You picked out some clean clothes for him, grabbed him the water bottle from his nightstand as well, and led him to the bathroom. He knew where it was, of course, but the thought of opening his eyes for the chance of any light just made the pain intensify, so he trusted you to guide him.

By this point, the tub was about three quarters of the way full, and you helped him get in. You knew he hadn’t showered that day, and the warm water on your legs and feet helped with your migraines, so you hoped it would help him as well. Judging by the way his face began to relax once he was in the tub, his back against your chest, you were glad it took away a little bit of his pain. You kept the temperature of the bathroom cooler so that he wouldn’t overheat, but not enough for him to get cold. His eyes stayed closed, but they were a calm closed, not a scrunched, wincing in pain, closed. He didn’t speak much, but he took the water and food that he was offered, and a gentle smile crossed his face the longer he sat in the tub.

The longer you stayed there with him, gently running your hands through his hair, the more his breathing evened out, and the deeper it got, and eventually, you realized he had fallen asleep. He had been so tired from being in pain, even though he had only been up for about four hours, that when the pain had lessened dramatically, his body was so exhausted that he just fell asleep in comfortable arms. You stayed there with him until the water went cold, and even longer after that, because you couldn’t bear to disturb him. After about half an hour, you softly shook him awake, gently helping him stand. By this point, you had both basically air dried, and Matt only pulled on boxers and loose shorts to sleep in. You tugged on one of his shirts and a pair of his boxers as well, going back to bed with him. 

As soon as he hit the bed, he was about to fall asleep again, and you pulled him back into your arms. You never minded taking care of him, knowing that he loved you more than words could say, and as he whispered a soft “I love you” into your chest, you knew you could do this for him for the rest of your life, and you could die happy.

“I love you more.”

taglist : @blahbel668 @mattsgirlfrieeend @69isabella69 @mayhem-72 @iculdstealurgf @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @sturnioloslife @heartsforkarina @nervousrebelglitter @sturniclo @elliegrace-7 @mattsturnioloisbae @strnilo @dazsha19 @patscorner @hailee22sstuff @tworosesblackthorn @sturniolo-fann

~ if you'd like to be added to my taglist, click here!

~ my inbox is open, come chat!!

[hippiegoth97]

Heat of The Moment: Eddie Munson x Reader

Collage by me :)

Master List

Tag List: @keikoraven @ar-jupiter @alcielo1438 @cairro-xx @stolen-in-moonlight

@micheledawn1975 @janiejenn @rafescurtainbangz @melodymunson @spacedoutdaydreamer

@veemoon @sariahs-stuff @feral-pumpkin-energy @comeonatmebruh @munsoneightysixx

@morgthemagpie @josephquinnsfreckles @jenniquinn @usergeta @cometzombie

@spookybabey @daggerdaggerkitten @nina6708 @sanctumdemunson @yourdailymemedelivery

@person-005 @slowandsteddie @gri959 @elegantkoalapaper @letitgoandletlive

@loserboysandlithium @costellation-hunter @leelei1980 @h-ness1944 @pretendthisnameisclever

@ohmeg @stalactitekilla @hellfirenacht @birdysaturne @oneforthemunny

@prettyboyeddiemunson @eddievanmunson @msgexymunson @rattkween86 @violetpixiedust

@bimbobaggins69 @angel-munson @eldermayfield @munsonsbtch @babygorewhore

@mediocredreams @xxbimbobunnyxx @taintedcigs @ali-r3n

Description: You're best friends with Eddie, but you're also secretly in love with him. You struggle to hide your feelings, until a visit to Lover's Lake makes you unable to keep up the act anymore. Thankfully, things go better than you expect...

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI:  smut, swearing, female reader, jealousy, crying, lots of angsty feelings, friends to lovers, metalhead!reader, drug references/use, grinding, fingering, oral sex, unprotected sex, praise/degradation, squirting

Word Count: 5.5k

Divider by @strangergraphics-archive

Heat of The Moment

You've been close friends with Eddie Munson since high school. You remember not fitting in with anybody, and then Eddie took you under his wing. He showed you how to play D&D, and all of his metal band cassette tapes. Soon after, you joined the Hellfire Club and became a full-blown metalhead. You cut your hair short and dyed it funky colors, and wore a beaten leather jacket covered in pins and patches. Your jeans were always torn, and Converse adorned your feet at all times. You even had your nose pierced, much to your mother's dismay. Your eyes were always smoky with eyeliner, and dark red lipstick made your mouth look absolutely sinful. You made guitar pick earrings and a matching necklace to wear, Eddie had generously given the picks to you. You'd even made him a necklace as well, and he gave you the biggest bear hug when you gifted it to him on his birthday. You were hoping for a kiss, but you took whatever affection you could get from Eddie.

Years later, you'd both just squeaked by to graduate, you never took your grades very seriously. You don't see the point of doing what everyone in life pushed on you. College, marriage, kids, the house with the white picket fence. It all seems so hollow, and you want no part in it. You instead choose to focus on Eddie. You play D&D with him regularly, and he recently decided to teach you how to play the guitar. Some days you just get high and listen to Metallica or Dio in his trailer. Any time you can spend by his side, you jump at the chance. You couldn't help falling in love with him, but you're sure he doesn't feel the same. He treats you like a sister, a best friend. He always picks other girls to go out with and screw. It's not like you aren't a catch, you've been with plenty of guys. But none of them make you feel the way Eddie does, so you’ve never formed a long-term relationship with any of them. You can barely remember their names, they don't matter to you at all.

It always hurts you to see Eddie with other girls, kissing and giggling with them. They sit in his lap after his shows, practically humping him on the couch in his trailer. It always makes you want to scream, or vomit. That should be you, not some whore who doesn't care about him. So you try your best to act unbothered, bringing your own dates to distract yourself. You eventually fuck them on the couch while Eddie takes whatever girl he brought home to his bed.

But the whole time you're having sex with someone else, you can hear what’s happening in his bedroom. It makes you want to burst into tears, but you just pretend you don't hear. Or worse, you pretend the random guy you’re with is Eddie instead. You always feel disgusted afterwards though, you're just using random men to fill a gaping hole inside your heart. Not only that, you don't even pretend to like them. They all have blank faces, no names to you. You fill in the blanks when it comes time to screw them, pasting Eddie where you want him most. But they never perform the way you imagine he would. They don't care about you, or your pleasure. Once they're done, they leave. You're left laying on the couch afterwards, hearing noises from the bedroom with your clothes still removed or undone. It's here that you always lose the battle with your tears, letting them out silently to make sure the lovebirds aren't disturbed. You eventually get yourself together, wiping your tears away before Eddie escorts his girl to the door.

"You okay?" He always asks after he lets his whore out, taking notice of your puffy eyes and streaky eyeliner.

"Yeah, I’m fine. Just another asshole." It isn't necessarily a lie, the guys you pick blindly usually don't treat you very well.

"Maybe you need to find someone you actually like, Y/N. You deserve to be happy." He kneels in front of you, wiping your eyes carefully. He looks into your eyes, and opens his mouth to say something. But he always closes it again, and shakes his head slightly. "Let me drive you home." And he always does, trying his best to cheer you up on the way. Telling jokes, blasting music, swerving the van playfully on the road. He does everything he can to get your tears to stop. It always works too, he shines so bright in your life. He makes everything better, any troubles you have melt away when you're with him. He parks and walks you to the door of your apartment like a true gentleman, telling you goodnight. You say the same, and burst into tears all over again when you close the door behind you and you're sure he won't hear. You cry so hard your chest hurts, and your throat is left raw from sobbing.

You eventually run out of tears for the night, crawling into bed with all your clothes still on, too tired to remove them. You lay in bed yearning for Eddie for hours, picturing what being his girlfriend could be like. It's oddly comforting, playing pretend in your head while you curl up in the blanket. You drift off to sleep with thoughts of the man you love swirling in your mind. And in the morning, the cycle starts again. Wake up, D&D/guitar lessons, van hangout, work, Eddie's show, back to his trailer, meaningless sex, crying, drive home, crying again, sleep. At some point this routine is sure to kill you, you can't keep going like this. You'll tell Eddie how you feel the next time you see him. And then you can either be with him, or put these pesky feelings behind you if he only sees you as a friend.

It's a Saturday afternoon, and you're getting ready to see Eddie. It's just the two of you today, you'll be going to Lover's Lake to hang out in his van. You both like the lake, not because of its name but because it's always peaceful there. The reflections of the surrounding woods on the water, birds flying overhead, a cool breeze brushing through the trees. It's nice and quiet, making you feel like it's just you and Eddie in the world. You're just about finished applying your smudgy eyeliner when you hear Eddie honking outside. You almost stab yourself with your eye pencil when the sound startles you. You toss it on your vanity, checking yourself over to make sure you look good. Your makeup is flawless, your outfit is badass as ever, and you don’t have a single hair out of place. You smile at your own reflection, eager to go with Eddie so you can tell him how you feel. You grab your bag, rushing out of your apartment and down the stairs. You run over to the van, yanking the passenger door open. You slide into your seat, tossing your bag in the back.

"Hey there, Y/N. How are you doing on this fine afternoon?" He smirks at you, looking you up and down. You seem extra put together today, he wonders if he's the reason for it. He pushes the thought from his head, there's no way you think of him like that.

"Hey, Eddie. I'm alright I guess." You say quietly, feeling his eyes on you. You look at him, meeting his wandering gaze. Did he just check me out?, you wonder. No way, he wouldn't do that.

"You 'guess'? That doesn't sound like the Y/N I know. Well, hopefully some time at the lake will brighten your mood, hm?" He puts his hand on your knee, rubbing it comfortingly. You tense at his touch, almost holding your breath. The skin where his hand is feels tingly with anticipation. "Seriously, though. Are you feeling okay? You've been kinda off lately." He's genuinely concerned about you, you've been acting weird around him recently. Whenever he touches you, it makes you all jumpy, and you've been crying a lot too. He hopes he hasn't upset you somehow, he truly cares for you. He likes you a lot, more than he'd readily admit. But he figures you only see him as a friend.

"I'm fine, Eddie. Let's just go to the lake, okay?" You reply, almost annoyed. You look out the window, waiting for him to start driving. Eddie sighs, taking his hand off your knee. He grips the steering wheel, and drives out of the parking lot. You both ride in silence on the way to the lake, but Eddie can't help looking over at you every so often. You refuse to meet his gaze, keeping your eyes focused on any sights outside the window as you ride past. Any enthusiasm or bravery you had about telling Eddie you love him is slipping away from your grasp.

Eddie continues to glance at you as he goes his usual route to the lake. Something is definitely off with you, he can see a sad expression on your face reflecting back at him in the window you keep staring out of. He doesn't know exactly why you seem so down, but he hopes you'll at least talk to him about it.

You finally reach the lake, and Eddie parks the van in your usual spot. He kills the engine, turning in his seat to face you. "So, are you gonna tell me what's going on, Y/N? Did I make you upset or something?" You turn to face him, looking into his eyes. His expression makes your heart break. He thinks he's hurt you, but it's been you hurting yourself because of how you feel about him.

"No, Eddie. You didn't do anything. I'm just being stupid, I promise." You reach forward to take his hands into yours. He lets you, and you stroke his rings, taking comfort in how the cool metal feels under your thumb. You want to keep talking, but it's like your mouth has been sewn shut.

"So what is it then? And I'm sure it's not stupid, Y/N. But you seem so sad lately, and you practically wince whenever I touch you. Just tell me what's wrong, darling. There's nothing you could say that would make me like you any less." He implores you to open up to him. He wants to help, however he can.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that, Eds." You manage to reply, and your gaze falls to your joined hands. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and your palms are sweating beyond belief. You feel sick, like you can't breathe. You can't do this. It'll ruin everything, and then Eddie won't want to see you anymore. You try to hold back, but your tears fight their way from your eyes, dripping onto the floor. Eddie's hands leave your grasp, grabbing the sides of your face to make you look at him again.

"Hey, hey. Y/N, please don't cry. Whatever it is, please just tell me. I can't stand seeing you so unhappy, princess." Seeing you like this makes his heart smash into a million pieces. He wants to make it better, but he doesn't even know what the problem is. You start to panic, your breaths come out fast and shallow. You start feeling dizzy, and you wish you could just run and hide. But you can't, Eddie won't let you go.

"I can't do this, Eddie. It'll ruin everything. And then you won't like me anymore. And I can't live with that." You choke the words out between sobs, your face turning a deep shade of scarlet. You're so embarrassed, and you just want to drop it. "Please, just forget it. We can pretend this never happened and I'll stop being an idiot. Please, I-" Eddie interrupts you by bringing his lips to yours. Your sobs stop, but your body still shudders a bit. You return the kiss, it's gentle and warm. A few more tears slide down your cheeks, and then Eddie breaks the kiss. He smiles at you, letting go of your face to hold your hands again.

"You know, if you were in love with me, all you had to do was say so." His smile grows wider when you gasp at his words. You open your mouth to protest, or put yourself down, but he places a finger over your lips to keep you quiet. "It's alright, darling. I promise you haven't ruined anything. I should've guessed this is why you've been acting so strange. I just didn't think you'd feel the same way about me as I do about you." Your eyes widen, you can't believe he's actually been in love with you this whole time.

You move his finger from your mouth, and grab his shirt collar. You pull him into you, smashing your lips together. He groans as you almost make him fall from his seat, but he hungrily reciprocates the kiss. He bites your bottom lip, making you moan. He slips his tongue in, and you battle for dominance. He wins out, frantically leading you to the back of the van. There's pillows and blankets thrown about, making a comfortable landing place for you. You fall onto your back, with Eddie on top of you. You finally break the kiss, stroking his face with the back of your hand. "You have no idea how many times I've wished for this, Eddie. I've loved you for so long, but I didn't think I could ever tell you. You always chose other girls over me."

"I know, and I was a fuckin' idiot. I only did that because I thought you didn't want me. We could've saved so much time, so much heartbreak. I can't begin to tell you how often I imagined those other girls were you instead." You laugh in shock at what he’s said. Him, fantasizing about you? You can't believe it. This whole time, he’s only wanted you. "That's not weird, is it?" He asks, blushes slightly at his little confession.

"Not at all, Eddie. If I'm being honest, I did the same thing with all those assholes I brought to the trailer. But I don't think they came even close to pleasing me like I imagine you could."

"Jesus, we're a couple of sick fucks, aren't we?" He chuckles, shaking his head.

"No. We were just painfully oblivious to each other's true feelings." You giggle, staring into his eyes. You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you. Your lips meet again, slow and sensual this time. The temperature in the van begins to rise, you feel your blood boiling in your veins. Eddie's hands grip your waist, and his left knee goes between your legs. He's creating friction on your clothed core, causing you to moan. His lips leave yours, moving to your jaw, and your neck. He plants open-mouthed kisses on your skin, occasionally sucking the flesh to leave hickies on you. "Fuck, Eddie. You're really good at this." You sigh blissfully, letting every sensation wash over you.

"I should hope so, I've had plenty of practice." He says between kisses, smirking like an idiot. One of his hands leaves your waist to grope your tits through your shirt. You arch your back off the floor of the van, gasping at his touch. "You make such pretty noises, princess." He whispers in your ear. "I can't wait to hear what you sound like when you cum." His words make you so wet, and his knee grinding on you feels so good. Every move Eddie makes sets your insides on fire, intense waves of pleasure washing over you. He's got you so wound up, soaking through your panties. Not long now until he pushes you over the edge.

"If you keep going the way you are, it won't take much." You moan out, your hands tangling in his hair. You tug on it roughly, and he groans into your neck.

"Careful, Y/N. It's dangerous to push my buttons like that." He grins at you, pulling you to sit up. He places you on top of him, his thigh positioned between your legs. You're sitting on your knees, and Eddie grips your hips in his hands. "Ride my thigh, darling. I want you to make yourself cum for me." He says lowly, his eyes burning with lust as they gaze into yours. You do as he says, slowly moving your hips on him. Eddie keeps your pace steady, helping you into the right angle to hit the spot where you need him most. You place your hands on his shoulders for leverage, increasing your pace on him. He just sits there watching you closely, drinking in every moan and curse that falls from your lips.

The waves are crashing into you now, threatening to pull you under. You're sweating through your clothes, and your pussy is impossibly wet. "Fuck, Eddie. I'm so close." You moan loudly, digging your nails into his shoulders.

"Keep going, princess. Make a mess all over me. Let me hear those pretty moans." His words spur you on further, and you grind yourself on him as fast as you can. You're panting wildly, feeling wave after wave rolling into you. Eddie moves to bite down into your neck, which sends you falling over the edge.

"Oh, god!" You scream, your legs try to snap shut as stars fill your vision. Eddie holds you into his chest, keeping you upright as your orgasm rips through you. You keep gripping his shoulders, gasping for air as you ride out your high. You fall backwards after your body has calmed down. You just lay here like a starfish, trying to collect your thoughts. You're staring at the roof of the van, breathing heavily. Eddie lays down on his side next to you. His head is propped up with one hand, and the other slowly strokes your arm up and down.

"How are you feeling, love?" He asks, looking down at you with kind eyes.

"Good. Uh, great, actually." You say awkwardly, glancing at him briefly. "I've never done that before. Not…cum, I've done that plenty. I just mean, the whole...um, grinding on you thing. I didn't expect it to have such an effect on me." You can't help your cheeks burning. You feel silly, babbling words at Eddie like this.

"Relax, Y/N. You don't have to be embarrassed about anything with me, you know that." You look at him again, seeing genuine affection in his eyes. You nod, turning your body to face his. You get as close to him as you can, and he wraps his arms around you. You kiss him again, but it's much softer now. Your heart melts, and you pull him even closer. He breaks away, speaking quietly. "Do you want more, sweetheart?"

"Yes, please." You reply just as quietly. You're not sure why you're both being so quiet, but it feels right. This moment feels so intimate, and you never want it to end. You lay on your back again after removing your jacket. He takes his own off too, the climate inside the van is like a sauna.

"Take your shirt off for me, princess." You obey his command, tossing it away. Eddie's right hand immediately goes to massage one of your breasts over your bra, making you gasp. His eyes gaze over your body, almost in awe of how beautiful you look. After a moment of staring, he lifts your torso to reach behind you. He expertly unclasps your bra, pulling it off you with ease. His breath hitches when your tits are exposed for him, your nipples hardened from arousal. "You're so gorgeous, baby.'' You blush at his compliment, a small giggle escaping your lips. Eddie lowers his head to your chest, kissing the valley between your breasts. You moan, gripping his long locks again. He peppers wet kisses on every last inch of you, leaving no flesh untouched. From the curves of your tits, to your ribs underneath, his lips leave a scorching trail as he moves. Once he's satisfied with his work, he swirls his tongue around one of your nipples before taking it into his mouth.

"Eddie." You whimper as he worries his teeth on the sensitive bud. His hand gropes your other breast, squeezing it roughly. Once he's left you properly marked, Eddie repeats the same actions on the other side. You tug on his hair again, making him groan. You love hearing the effect you have on him, most guys are too shy to make noises. But Eddie isn't most guys, especially when he's around you. You tug again harder, and he moans even louder. He stops kissing your chest, looking at you. His eyes are dark, swirling with pure lust.

"You love playing with danger, don't you, princess?" He flashes you a devilish grin.

"Maybe." You smile back at him. "But I love the noises you make when I touch you even more. Guys don't really do that, but it's so fucking hot."

"Is that so?" He asks, you just nod at him. "I'll keep that in mind, darling." He sits up to remove his shirt, and you can't help gawking at his body. He's toned, but slender, and his tattoos look so good on him. You get on your knees to feel him up. You run your hands up and down his chest, feeling as much of him as you can. "You like what you see, love?" He asks quietly. You look into his eyes, feeling passion overtake you. You grab him by the shoulders, and push him over as you bring your lips onto his in a bruising kiss. He grunts as he falls, grabbing your waist to take you with him. You straddle him when he lands, grinding yourself onto his stiffening cock. He groans into your mouth, gripping your hips roughly. "What's gotten into you, Y/N? You're so needy." Eddie chuckles as he breaks the kiss to take a breath.

"You'll see, Eds. Just lay down and relax." You grin slyly at him. He cocks an eyebrow, unsure of what you mean. You proceed to lick a long stripe from his collarbone to his jaw. You look at him again, grinning like a Cheshire cat. He just stares at you, wide-eyed. He's panting, awaiting your next move. You feel his dick growing even harder beneath you. You take that as a sign to keep going. You lean back down to his neck, biting down hard this time, then sucking the skin to make a dark bruise.

"Jesus, fuck." He moans out, spurring you on. You nibble his skin, trailing down his neck, to his chest, his stomach. Each move you take elicits whimpers and curses from Eddie's lips. Every sound is music to your ears, making you more and more wet whenever you hear one. You reach his belt, looking over your handiwork. Eddie's body is littered with teeth marks, and he's breathing heavily. You undo his belt, taking your time in order to tease him. Once it's open you unzip his jeans, pulling them down as Eddie kicks off his shoes. He's left in his boxers now, and a tent has formed in the thin fabric. You grip his waistband and yank his boxers down. His dick springs free, slapping his stomach before standing up straight.

You take his length in your hand, stroking him gently. He groans again, sweat beginning to form on his brow. He looks at you with pleading eyes. "You're very sexy when you're desperate, baby." Eddie's completely fucked for you, silently begging you to put him in your mouth. You happily oblige him, taking every last inch of him at once. You gag slightly when he hits the back of your throat, but you're persistent about keeping as much of him in as possible. You bob your head up and down, twirling your tongue around him as you go. He's constantly letting out lewd noises, which only serve to fuel your fire.

"Keep going, babe. But can you put your pussy towards me?" He asks, barely getting the words out. You position yourself where he wants you, and he makes frantic work of taking off your shoes and remaining clothes. You moan on Eddie's cock as you feel him stroking your slick folds. "You're so wet, darling. Is this all for me?" He asks as he slips two fingers into your cunt.

All you can manage to reply with is a muffled 'mmhmm' as he starts curling his digits inside you. Each stroke of Eddie's fingers makes you see stars, causing you to moan on him again and again. This in turn makes him groan and pick up his pace while fingering you. You feel Eddie's balls tightening, he's getting close. You speed up, working him harder and faster, gagging on him repeatedly. He takes this as a challenge to give you another orgasm, so he takes his fingers out of you, replacing them with his tongue. You scream on his length, feeling a fire beginning to build in your belly. His mouth licks and sucks on your clit mercilessly, pouring gasoline on the flames.

You're both driving each other mad as you compete to send the other over the edge. Moans fill the van as you near your highs, each lick and stroke pushing you further and further. Eddie's release comes first, and his mouth temporarily leaves your dripping cunt to moan your name as he cums down your throat. Once you've swallowed every drop, he sucks your clit into his mouth to make you topple over the edge. You scream his name as your legs begin to shake. Your orgasm rips through your body viciously, and you feel yourself cum onto Eddie's face. He holds you steady until your high subsides, licking up all your juices in the meantime.

You collapse onto him, practically gasping for air. You lay on your stomach for a moment, waiting for your vision to clear. Eddie strokes the backs of your legs affectionately. "You alive over there, Y/N?" He asks playfully.

"Yeah, just...wow. You're so fucking good at that." You sit up, back still facing him. His arms wrap around you from behind, his legs on either side of you. He kisses your shoulder, and your neck. His lips feel warm and soft against your skin, and you're already wanting more. You sigh as you cock your head to the side to give Eddie more access. He licks the length of your neck, stopping below your jaw. "Everything you do feels so good, Eddie." You sigh lustfully. You turn slightly to face him, looking at him from under your lashes. "Do you want to fuck me now?" You ask, biting your lip.

"Sure thing, dollface. Can you get on your hands and knees for me?" You nod silently, doing as he says. He kneels behind you, gently pressing you downwards. He leaves you resting on your elbows with your ass in the air. He grips his cock, brushing it between your soaked folds, drawing low moans from both of you. He teases you like this for a moment, eager to have you beg him to fuck you. You're so turned on it almost hurts, you need him inside you now.

"Eddie, please stop teasing. I need your dick inside me." You practically whine for him. He chuckles darkly at your pleading.

"Your wish is my command, princess." He says as he slams his cock into you.

"Oh, fuck!" You cry out as he hits your g spot perfectly.

"God, you're so wet and tight for me. Fuckin’ gorgeous." He pants, and he begins to thrust in and out of you. You moan continuously, he hammers your sweet spot with each thrust. He smacks your ass, making you yell.

"Fuck, Eddie!" You grip the scattered blankets beneath you for dear life, spots hinder your vision as you're fucked into next week. The sound of your vulgar noises and slapping skin is all you can hear, and it's like the most beautiful music in the world. You're loving every second of this, as is Eddie. But there's something else you crave from him. You don't just want Eddie to fuck you, you want him to do filthy things to you. "Babe, do you mind choking me while you fuck me?" You ask him as he continues to pound into your cunt.

He's taken aback by your request. Not because he's not into it, he definitely is. He's just surprised you want him to do that to you. But he finds your desires to be ridiculously sexy, and who is he to deny you? "Of course, darling. Anything you want." You can hear the smirk in his voice as his ringed hand comes forward, pulling you up by the shoulder. He lays on your back slightly so he can reach your throat. You feel the cool metal that adorns his fingers wrap around your neck, squeezing lightly. You choke out a moan as the pressure makes your head lighten. He loosens his grip for a moment as he continues to fuck you.

"Fuck, you're so hot, Eddie. Keep going. Fuck me, choke me, make me cum, please." You keep moaning and begging for Eddie to have his way with you, and he can't help but give you anything you ask for.

"You're such a dirty girl, Y/N. I fuckin’ love it." His grip on your throat tightens again, and he snaps his hips even harder into you. You're both slicked in sweat, struggling to keep your positions. You're nearing the end again, and you can already tell it's going to be the most intense orgasm you've ever had. Your skin is on fire, your insides like burning coals. Every feeling is amplified, concentrated in your pussy. Every time Eddie's cock enters you, it's like fireworks being set off.

Every curse and dirty request you let out makes Eddie's dick twitch. He can't believe how beautiful and sexy you are like this. He's genuinely in love with you, and his heart pounds in his chest as he races to the finish line. His free hand slithers down between your legs to your clit, rubbing quick circles. You gasp loudly, and his ringed hand tightens around your throat. He uses his arm to hold you in place, rubbing and fucking and choking you simultaneously. Eddie mentally congratulates himself on pulling off such a feat, but maintains focus on making you cum. "I'm so close, babe. Keep going, just like that." You say once his grip loosens again.

"I'm almost there too, princess. Be a good girl and cum for me." He pinches your clit between his fingers, sending you toppling over the edge.

"Eddie! Oh, fuck!" You scream so loud, and you feel your pussy clamp onto Eddie's dick. He groans, feeling his own high take over. He continues to hold you as your legs tremble violently, and juices spurt out of you onto the blankets.

"Jesus, Y/N!" He moans as your walls clench him. He feels your cum rush over his cock, spilling out of you. It feels unbelievable, he's never experienced anything like it. His load empties into you, mixing with your release as his hips buck compulsively a few times. Once Eddie regains composure, he pulls out of you. You whine at the loss, and your combined arousal slowly drips out of you. Eddie stares at the sight for a moment, before wiping it up with his finger. You moan at the overstimulation, and lay on your stomach as you cool down. Eddie lays beside you, trying to get your attention. You turn to him, seeing the gathered cum still on his finger. He brings it to your lips, and you immediately take it in your mouth. You suck it clean, moaning at the sweet taste. "Shit, could you be any hotter, Y/N?"

You just shrug and lean over to kiss him. He melts into you, caressing your cheek. The kiss feels different this time. It's slow and tender, full of love. You eventually break away, and you both lay down again. You place your head on his chest, and he wraps his arms around you. Your leg lays over Eddie’s as you try to be as close to him as possible. Your hand strokes his chest while he plays with your hair. "I love you, Eddie. I'm so glad I met you." You say, barely above a whisper.

"I love you too, Y/N. I don't think I've ever loved anyone like this before." He replies at the same volume. He pulls one of the blankets over the both of you, snuggling into you even more. You can't help but let your eyes flutter closed. You're so content like this. Your heart swells as Eddie's words echo in your mind as you drift off to sleep. He loves you, and you love him. Nothing could ruin this moment. The world could end and you wouldn't care, as long as you get to stay like this with Eddie.

The end.

[s-4pphics]

where we meet. (e.w.)

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

*silence*

…..

thank u 4 the pointers baby :3 ilysm @elliesbelle

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now, Miss Hattie— “

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

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

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

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

As a dishwasher. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wake up and hope for their forgiveness everyday. 

“You comin’?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THUD, THUD THUD THUDTHUD—

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

THUDTHUDTHUDTHUD—

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

Where were you before this? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You woke up screaming. 

“Girl…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t sleep at all that night. 

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

To put it lightly, you were fucking horrified. 

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

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

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

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

You’re not fucking crazy. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A heavy exhale left her. 

“I… Something was…” she stuttered. 

Another deep inhale. Another lengthy exhale. 

“Something felt different, no?” She whispered. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was odd. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Family. You almost broke down. 

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

“No, uh, thanks. I got it.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you come pick me up?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened when we were at the club?” 

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

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

“I… I told you what happened— “

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

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

Celeste shook her head, “No.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everything around you went dark. 

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

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

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

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

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

Shocked plastered across your friend’s face. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

JUNIOR YEAR: 2012

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

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

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

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

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

HAAAPPY BIIIRTHDAAAY TOOO YOUUU—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You love me, Ellie… right? 

Your tongue felt swollen in your mouth when you slurred. 

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

Ellie… d-do you love me? 

O-Of course I do—

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

—

You were never a rebellious kid. 

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

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

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

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

Started drinking. 

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

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

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

You gained a best friend from that sloppily scratched note. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

See? I can stop whenever I want. 

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

Hm? 

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

But you didn’t believe her. 

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

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

… Are you fucking drunk right now? 

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

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

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

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

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

—

The reality around you never rebuilt itself after that night. 

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

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

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

You killed your soulmate, and you never recovered. 

PRESENT

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

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

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

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

“What the hell are you doin’ here.” 

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

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

“Please, I’m beggin’ you, ma’am— “

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

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

“… W-What?”

The look on her face was enough for you. 

She knows. She knew. 

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

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

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

“Whatever happens t’you…”

“No, nonono!—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ma’am?” 

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

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

Some silence passed before you spoke. 

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

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

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

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

“Yes… Are you sure everyt— “

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

I’m fine, I’m fine I’m fine I’m fine—

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

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

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

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

It can’t be. 

“L-Look at me. I’m here! I'm okay!” 

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

“Look at me! I love you!” 

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

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

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

“NO! No, no, fucking get up— “

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

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

Ellie, Ellie, I love you, I’m sorry— 

A kiss on your shoulder. Right over your scar. 

“I love you more.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“E-Ellie?” 

Silence. 

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

“Just do it! Just fucking do it!” 

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

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

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

“KILL ME! KILL ME, KILLME! —“

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

A dark chuckle left you. 

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

You’re awake. And you’re angry. 

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

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

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

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

You’re going fucking crazy. 

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

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

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

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

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

Silence. 

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

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

“Fuck you.” 

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

“… What?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ellie, please, please don’t! —“

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

Ellie… Ellie, please… 

Trees danced with the wind before everything went dark. 

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

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

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

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

“Miss me?” 

You jolted, scurrying away from whatever was behind you. 

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

What the fuck, what the fuck—

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

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

Is… Did she cut you with that? 

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

“E-Ellie?” 

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

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

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

What the fuck is going on… 

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

Her words were hardly registering. 

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

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

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

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

Other side? “… Am I dead?” 

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

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

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

“… I— “

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

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

“… Why’m I here then?” 

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

Ellie turned to face you, lips curling devilishly. 

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

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

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

Your breaths shuddered the closer she got.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, you don’t. You haven’t showered—

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

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

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

“Oh, she’s starving— “

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

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

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

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

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

… Is… Is she really…?

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

“E-Ellie, El— “

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

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

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

You missed her so fucking much. 

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

“You wanna watch?” 

No, no no please—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

S’hitting it s’good! Fuck, I can’t—

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

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

“Please, El, please, fuck… me— “

“I’m — oh, fuck, yes— “

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The peculiar twang coated your tastebuds. She continued. 

“So much fun.” 

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

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

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

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

Almost. 

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

“You’re a bad kisser.” 

Your lip quivered. Ouch, “S… Sorry…”

“Ellie?” Your throat burned. 

“Yes, dear?”

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

“Am… Am I…?”

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

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

“Will… Can I, can I cum?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wanted to ask what was taking so fucking long—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tiny fucking hole… gotta get you ready, huh?

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

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

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

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

“El — mmh! Fuck, yes, rightthere! —“

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

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

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

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

Ellie… 

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

Ellie… please…

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

I’m so sorry… 

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

I miss you so much… 

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

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

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

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

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

I love you… I love you… I love you… 

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

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

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

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

I love you… I’m sorry… I love you… 

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

JUNIOR YEAR: 2012

You’re such a dork!

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

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

You love me. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you spoke first. 

You love me, right? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She sobbed, her head shaking dismissively. 

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

“Fuck you,” her choked murmur was hushed. 

A sad smile grew on your face. 

“Almost did…” 

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

“Y’know… you almost did fuck me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ellie’s hushed tone filled your head. 

I wish I hated you. 

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

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

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

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

“Can I, fuck, let me do something— “

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Feels g-good? Yeah?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your stamina’s fucked.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What.” 

Fuck. “No-nothing. Sorry.”

“You want something. Say it.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ellie — m’cu—cumming!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Baby likes that? I own this fucking pussy? 

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

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

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

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

When you wake, there’s warmth. 

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

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

Ellie’s the blanket; Ellie’s warm. 

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

—

—

—

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

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

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

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

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

idk how to use picsart sorry yall LOL

taggiesss ily thank u 4 being patient :D :

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

[goldfades]

★ BREAK THE BED (LITERALLY) ─── CC²²

❪ requested -> "Can I pleaseeee get a fic where cc actually breaks the bed?? I just know her strap game in rough after a loss" ❫

─ warnings | nsfw under the cut, read at ur own discretion. kinda angsty but not rly???? just very angry cait (for the most part), mention of the media being mean, STRAP!!!!!!!!!!!! degradation with a sprinkle of praise, the bed actually breaking lol (who woulda thought?), it ends in a funny way and aftercare with so much cuteness u might die!!!!

─ ev's notes | kinda word vomit but this concept makes me go feral!!!!!!!

⇨ missing out on updates? check out my wcbb masterlist!

the entire night, caitlin had gotten absolutely dogged on. the game had been brutal, not just physically but emotionally. she could still feel the sting of missed shots, the weight of turnovers, and the disappointment of her teammates' glares. the fans' cheers had turned to jeers, and she couldn't shake off the feeling of letting everyone down.

off the court, the media scrutiny was relentless. headlines dissected her every move, analyzing her performance with a critical eye. she was sick of it, and with each passing moment, her anger only seemed to grow stronger. she wanted to scream, to lash out at something, anything, that could bear the weight of her frustration.

"oh, fuck!" you moaned as you felt your eyes roll to the back of your head, gripping the sheets beneath you. caitlin had you bent over her bed as she fucked into you relentlessly, one of her hands gripping your hip as the other pushed your head into the mattress. "please,"

her thrusts were fast and unforgiving, she was absolutely wrecking you. you'd both been at it for what felt like hours but in reality, your legs felt like they were about to give out at any moment but neither of you cared ─ it felt so good.

"fuck, yeah. take it, fucking take it," caitlin's groans came out breathless as her head fell back, as if she could really feel you through the thick piece of plastic. "good fucking girl, yeah,"

you nodded your head against the mattress at her praise, feeling the coil in your stomach begin to tighten. you loved it when cait treated you like this ─ she was usually caring but right now it felt like she couldn't care less about how you felt.

and you can admit to almost anyone that having a hot and tall hooper girlfriend has many perks ─ including getting absolutely fucking wrecked by her strap after terrible games.

"please, fuck," you choked out as you felt yourself begin to shake underneath her, your face contorting into one of pure bliss.

"fucking slut," the words came out smoothly as you moaned in response. she wasn't ever much of a degrader but god, did it feel good.

caitlin gripped your hair even harder as she pulled you up so that she press kisses against your jaw as she continued to fuck into you. "you like that? fuck, baby, you like getting called a slut? yeah?"

"yeah," you sobbed out as caitlin pressed her lips against yours in a sloppy kiss.

caitlin pushed your head back against the mattress and somehow, her thrusts got even rougher and faster. "oh fuck yeah, take it like a slut. i know you like that shit, stop whining,"

that was all it took for you to cum around her strap, your cries of pleasure echoing throughout her apartment. she didn't stop, she kept fucking you until you rode out your high.

caitlin kept pressing sloppy kisses on your shoulders and neck as you caught your breath, she wrapped her arms around your naked back and pulled you closer. you could feel her smile on your neck as you both stayed like that for a few moments, relishing in each other.

and that was all she needed to feel okay again. suddenly all the media and all the bullshit didn't matter anymore, because at least you were with her. and at the end of the day, she has a sexy ass girlfriend who can take her rough strap game after a tough loss (and who supports and cherishes her).

she pulled out of you slowly, wary of your very sensitive pussy. you winced as her expression turned thoughtful, "you okay, honey?"

"yeah," you whispered out as caitlin's hands gripped your hips and slowly pushed you on the bed. you turned around to meet her face and she pushed your hair out of your face, taking in your beautiful face.

she put one leg on the bed and began to move toward you, only for the mattress to completely complete collapse underneath. caitlin's eyes widened in surprise as the mattress collapsed beneath her, sending both of you tumbling to the floor with a thud. you let out a startled gasp, the sudden movement catching you off guard.

for a moment, there was silence, save for the sound of your breathing and the creaking of the broken bed frame. then, a burst of laughter bubbled up from deep within you, and soon caitlin joined in, her laughter filling the room.

"holy shit, dude," you laughed as caitlin caught her breath.

caitlin kept giggling as she shook her head in amusement. "my strap game that good?"

"i can't believe we actually like... we broke the bed," you both dissolved into fits of laughter again, the absurdity of the situation sinking in.

caitlin smirked, a playful glint in her eyes. "i guess that's what happens when you bring your a-game," she quipped, earning another round of laughter from both of you. "my ego really, really needed that, whew."

your expression softened as your girlfriend looked back at you, before continuing. "no seriously, even if we keep this losing streak up, at least i have you to make me feel better."

"really? that was all it took, one good fuck and you're all better?" you smirked as caitlin nodded, in all seriousness.

"oh, yes. absolutely. half of those dudes can't get their girls to orgasm with their real dicks. i did it with a damn strap and i got you screaming your head off, oh and i broke the bed," caitlin explained as you began laughing again. "i'm never gonna be able to take 'em seriously now, cause like... sure i keep getting dogged on but i'm still adjusting and!"

she pulled you closer into her chest, "i have a sexy girlfriend,"

"that's the spirit, baby," you laughed again as you squeezed your tall girlfriend.

caitlin chuckled, her arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace. "damn right," she said, her voice filled with pride. "and don't you forget it."

"never doubted it for a second," you replied, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "you're the sexiest, most badass girlfriend a girl could ask for."

"i love you, sweetheart," she mumbled against your head as she leaned toward you again before she felt the bed give way beneath you both once more. this time, however, instead of laughter, there was a collective groan as you hit the floor with a thud.

"love you too, but how are we gonna sleep tonight?" you groaned as caitlin sighed.

"i'm calling a hotel, hold on," caitlin sighed as she got up from the broken bed and walked out of the room.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Hii, I hope you're doing well!! This is my first time requesting so I was REALLY nervous :")) I saw some posts about Y/N accidentally calling some of the creeps their "husband", and I was wondering if you could do one with Jeff? I'm really curious of how it would be like with him and I really like him ^^

Listen. Listen. This man has been wormed into my brain for the longest time and my softness for him came out today, and this became like twice as long as I originally meant to to be, because I love him. I honestly ended up wanting it to be longer, but this took me way too long to write, so I cut it short. I hope you enjoy <3

While Jeff would never, ever admit it to anyone, he has spent hours thinking about what it would be like to be married to you. To be married to you, live with you, be able to wake up to you every single day, for everyone around the two of you to fully know you belong to each other. The unfortunate downside to that fact is that Jeff doesn't think he deserves it. He doesn't believe he deserves to be so happily married to you with all of the horrible things he's done, with all the horrible trauma he regularly has to deal with and make you put up with (despite you routinely telling him it doesn't bother you at all and you love him all the same, flaws and all). He thinks you're just far too good for him, and so the bitter, depressed part of his brain constantly tells him that'll never happen.

So, needless to say, Jeff is about to get his shit rocked mentally. The two of you were out and about, and you'd bumped into an old friend (i.e., someone important in Jeff's eyes), and introduced them to Jeff. Jeff, in his attempt to seem like a decent person under the watchful eyes of someone you have known for such a long time, does pull himself off pretty well, at least until you accidentally slip up and refer to Jeff as your husband. He feels like you've just punched him straight in the gut. He can't breathe, his heart is hammering in his chest, and he feels like he's gonna vomit, but he carries on with a passive smile, hiding all of his inner turmoil, keeping it locked inside until the two of you can get away from all of the prying eyes in this public space. The entire way home he still feels like he's gonna be sick, trying everything he can just to keep it together. The second you're through your front door he's wheeling around and pinning you to it, arms beside your head as his chest heaves, eyes slicked with a mixture of tears, confusion, and desperation. You can't tell what's wrong with him, and he can't tell why he's reacting so strongly, his mind foggy amidst his air-deprived anxiety attack. The two of you stand there, your hands comfortingly cupping his face while you coach him to breathe, to calm down.

By the time he's caught his breath, he's leaning on you, his body weighing against you as you rest against the door behind you. His arms are tight around your waist as his face nuzzles against your neck, and you're overcome with intense worry, unaware of what got him like this in the first place. "Did you mean it...?" His voice eventually trails off, and the emotion in his voice is untraceable, his trauma brain overtaking as your words replay in his mind over and over again. Your brows knit together as you try to figure out just what it is he's referring to, and he answers the question for you, saying he meant when you referred to him as your husband. He looks absolutely broken in your arms, and a lightbulb goes off in your mind as you finally realize why. You've heard it, the things he says to Liu, or BEN, his words about how he doesn't deserve you, how you deserve to marry someone better than him, soon followed by their chastising words about how that's not true, and suddenly his worrisome behavior from the last few hours that you've picked up on (because you always notice these things) suddenly makes sense.

You reassure him that of course you meant it, why wouldn't you? Jeff feels like he's being chastised once more, his cheeks puffed out in a pout as he avoids looking at you as you lecture him about how you'd love to marry him one day, and how he absolutely deserves to have you, how you're not too good for him, a lecture you should have given him long ago. He ignores the tears streaming down his face once more, ignores the thudding of his own heart in his chest, ignores the dying voice of denial in the back of his mind, but what he can't ignore is your lips slotting so perfectly against his own, or your fingers stroking along his scars in the way that always makes him fall apart. He's still not completely sure he deserves you, but goddamnit, with the way you're looking at him right now, he's sure as hell not gonna let anyone else marry you and take you away from him. Not with how tenderly you're holding him, how gently you're pressing your lips across his scorched skin, not with how lovingly you're gazing at him, as if he's the most beloved person in your life, because of course he is to you, just as you are to him. 'Husband' ends up becoming one of your favorite nicknames for him following that day, a nickname that always has his skin flushing red and his eyes softening in a way they only do for you. A nickname for now, and a title not too far into the future that he wears with pride.

[kkanabel]

drunken confessions ✫ chapter ii

curly x reader

summary: Curly is the designated driver, so he’s helping you as you vomit your guts out because you pushed yourself too hard with the liquor. He knows you don’t like him the same way he does—right? At least he thinks so before you confess to him that you think about cuddling with him after sex. In this chapter, you both start to blur the lines.

directory/m.list ⇦ previous chapter - next chapter (comin soon)⇨

words: ~4.2k

t/w: friends with benefits!!, mutual(?) pining, confused!reader, hookup culture, slim jim exists (but isn't present in this chapter), pretty light yucky under the cut(very tame smut), gn!pronouns for reader (mostly, i think. if i fucked up somewhere, pls let me know), mention of s**ual harassment

a/n: more self-indulgent shit <3

The next morning greeted you with a relentless pounding in your head and a parched throat that felt like sandpaper. You groaned, shifting against the tangle of blankets before the events of last night hit you like a freight train.

At first, it had seemed like just a harmless, tipsy dream—a montage of Curly’s face, as breathtakingly gorgeous as ever. But as the dream played on, the edges of reality began to creep in. The heat in his cheeks, the incredulous look in his eyes, the sound of your own drunken voice slurring out “tiddiesss”—it wasn’t a dream. It was a memory.

Your eyes flew open, wide with horror.

“Oh my God,” you whispered to yourself, voice hoarse. You sat up so fast your head spun, and you buried your face in your hands.

I sexually harassed one of my closest friends, you realized, mortified.

What the hell is wrong with you? Curly was nothing but kind to you—always the one to look out for you when you drank too much or got yourself into some sort of embarrassing predicament. 

And last night? He’d been an absolute saint, driving you home without a single complaint. And what had you done in return? Made him feel uncomfortable and made a complete fool of yourself.

He wasn’t even interested in you like that—you knew that!—and yet your drunk self had decided to be the absolute worst.

You groaned again, louder this time, and grabbed your phone off the bedside table. Of course, Curly, ever the gentleman, had not only driven you home but also plugged in your phone to charge and even left a water bottle next to your phone. The reminder of his kindness only deepened the pit of shame in your stomach.

As you tapped the screen and drank from the water bottle, your faint reflection on the dark screen caught your eye. Your heart sank further. You looked like a disaster—deep shadows under your eyes, your hair sticking out in every direction, and your skin dull and puffy from dehydration. You sighed, resolving to pull yourself together.

Tonight, you decided. The group was coming over for dinner, and Curly would be there. You’d apologize—really apologize—not just for last night but for all the other moments when you’d let your insecurities spill over into bad decisions. But for now, you needed to get to the bathroom and make yourself look halfway human.

By the time the evening rolled around, the smell of simmering sauces and roasted meats and vegetables filled your small apartment, doing its best to mask the lingering scent of cleaning products from your earlier frenzy. You glanced at the table, double-checking that everything was perfect. Plates, glasses, and cloth napkins were arranged neatly, and you’d even lit a few candles in an effort to create a warm, inviting atmosphere.

You stepped back, pressing your palms against your thighs to keep them from trembling. Everything was perfect—at least on the surface. Inside, your stomach twisted like a wrung-out towel, the weight of seeing Curly again sitting heavily in your chest.

The knock at the door jolted you out of your spiraling thoughts. You smoothed your shirt and opened it, a bright smile already plastered on your face.

Daisuke was the first to step in, his easy grin lighting up the room. “I come bearing gifts!” he announced grandly, holding up a bottle of wine like a wizard revealing a prized elixir. He sniffed the air and let out a low whistle. “Wow, smells amazing in here!”

Anya followed close behind, giving you a quick hug before dropping her bag by the couch. “Oh my, you’ve outdone yourself,” she gushed, eyeing the spread on the table while placing down a pie she’d made on the kitchen counter. Everything about the pumpkin pie was perfect—a perfectly smooth surface with dollops of whipped cream that were piped on with precision.

“Don’t get too excited,” you said with a laugh, your nerves making it come out a bit stilted. “I might’ve accidentally over-salted the potatoes.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Daisuke teased, and you rolled your eyes at him, grateful for the distraction.

“And as if you didn’t overcook the salmon last time,” you shot back, elbowing him lightly. His groan of mock defeat made you smile, the exchange doing wonders to ease your nerves—until Curly stepped through the doorway.

The sight of him hit you like a freight train. His broad shoulders seemed to fill the doorway, and his casual jeans and perfectly fitted T-shirt might as well have been tailor-made for all the effect they had on you. His golden hair caught the warm candlelight, giving him an almost ethereal glow, and when he smiled—a small, shy one—you felt the air in your lungs turn heavy.

Your heart clenched. 

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sor— 

You tore your gaze away, fixating on the food instead, pretending to fuss over the table settings.

“Hey,” he said simply, his voice warm and unassuming, as though last night hadn’t happened.

The way his eyes crinkled at the corners, the soft upward curve of his lips—it all felt like too much. Your chest tightened, the sting of regret bubbling to the surface.

“Hey,” you replied, the word slipping out softer than you intended.

As everyone settled in, you found yourself stealing glances at Curly from across the table. He seemed relaxed, chatting with Daisuke about some new project he was working on, his easy tone lulling you into a false sense of security. But every so often, his gaze flickered toward you—quick, fleeting glances that made your pulse race. You couldn’t tell if he was trying to catch your eye or trying to actively avoid it.

You poured yourself a glass of wine, swirling it absently as you stared down at the roasted zucchini on your plate. Your mind wandered, already concocting a way to escape your spiraling thoughts after the night was over. Maybe you’d call one of the people you regularly hooked up with, someone uncomplicated who wouldn’t make you feel like this. But first—you had to apologize. Properly.

Anya leaned closer, her voice a low murmur. “You okay? You seem… distracted.”

You forced a smile, shaking your head. “Just tired,” you said, your tone light but unconvincing.

She studied you for a moment but let it go, turning her attention back to the table. Meanwhile, you busied yourself pouring drinks for everyone, clinging to the repetitive motions to ground yourself. 

You needed to find the right moment to apologize. You just hoped Curly wouldn’t leave before you got the chance.

Unconsciously, you refilled his glass multiple times, oblivious to the way his cheeks grew pinker with each pour. 

He wasn’t drunk—not even close. Curly had always been a lightweight with his emotions, not alcohol. It was you being this close, leaning over him with your hesitant, apologetic air, that sent his thoughts spinning.

When the plates were empty, you clapped your hands, forcing cheer into your voice. “Who’s up for dessert?”

“Pumpkin pie courtesy of Anya!” you added, smiling at her.

Daisuke perked up immediately. “Any dessert Anya touches turns to gold,” he said dreamily. “I still think about that key lime pie sometimes…”

You rolled your eyes with a laugh, watching him pat and rub at his stomach. Moments ago, he’d claimed he was too full to move, yet now he seemed ready to demolish an entire pie by himself.

“I’ll help,” Curly blurted suddenly, standing so quickly his chair scraped against the floor. He began collecting empty plates, avoiding your gaze as his movements turned brisk and purposeful.

The two of you found yourselves alone in the kitchen.

You watched him from the doorway, your gaze trailing over his broad back as he rinsed the dishes and placed them carefully into the dishwasher. So thoughtful, so helpful, so kind. Your chest swelled with something bittersweet—gratitude tinged with guilt. How could someone so lovely have been dragged into this… mess you created?

Your breath caught when you noticed the tips of his ears were pink. Why in the world-

“Curly,” you said, your voice soft, hesitant.

He stiffened slightly, pausing mid-motion. “Yeah?”

God, you felt so guilty. He must feel so uncomfortable.

“Later, when everyone’s about to leave… could I have a word with you? Privately?”

His shoulders twitched, and he tilted his head slightly upward, his blonde hair catching the light. You winced, imagining the worst—he must be uncomfortable, must hate this, must hate you. But then he turned to face you, his expression something softer, something… nervous?

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, his cheeks a little red. “I’d like to talk to you too.”

Your heart plummeted to your stomach. What did he have to talk to you for?

You moved to the counter, your hands trembling slightly as you plated slices of pumpkin pie. “Curly, just to preface, I—” You stopped, your throat tightening. “I’m so sorry.”

His eyebrows flew up, confusion flickering across his face. His lips parted like he was about to ask you something, but Daisuke’s loud laughter from the dining room interrupted the moment.

You forced a weak smile, handing him two plates. “Let’s go.”

You carried the dessert back to the table together, but the knot in your chest only grew heavier. The words lingered on your tongue, waiting for a moment that might never come.

A couple of hours and a few glasses of wine later, Anya and Daisuke exchanged a glance you couldn’t quite decipher. Anya sighed—almost contentedly—while rising from her seat.

“Well, it’s about time for us to head out. Thanks for the amazing dinner!”

You walked them to the door, your mind already spinning from what was coming next. Hugging them both tightly, you forced a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Thanks for the wine, Daisuke. And Anya, the pie was heavenly as always.”

“No problem,” Daisuke said, grinning as he patted his stomach. “And remember: dessert stomachs are a thing.”

As their laughter faded down the hallway and the door clicked shut, the air in the room grew heavier. Turning back, you saw Curly sitting hunched over on the couch, his elbows propped on his knees and his fingers laced together. His cheeks were tinged pink, and his biceps flexed subtly as he leaned forward, lost in thought.

Your gaze lingered on him—on the quiet strength he carried, the way the light made his hair glow like gold. But then you tore your eyes away, guilt curling tighter in your chest.

“Curly, I—” You hesitated, deciding to sit across from him rather than beside him, worried you might make him uncomfortable. Your hands fidgeted in your lap as you avoided his gaze. “What I did last night… It was so inappropriate, and I’m so sorry. I probably made you so uncomfortable, and—”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. The sound disarmed you, warm and low, like a summer breeze cutting through the tension in your chest.

“Hey.” His voice was gentle as his eyes met yours. “I didn’t mind it.”

Your breath caught. You couldn’t look away, the way his gaze softened and lingered making your heart beat faster.

Before you could process his words, Curly stood up and walked over, taking the seat beside you. The couch dipped under his weight, and the warmth radiating off him was so tangible you felt your pulse stutter. You wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch him.

“Wait. What?” The words tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop them.

“I mean…” His face turned redder, and he coughed lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t mind if… you wanted to cuddle after… sex.”

Your mind froze, his words reverberating in your ears as your brain raced to make sense of them.

Cuddle? After what?

And then it hit you.

“Oh my God,” you shrieked, burying your burning face in your hands. “What else did I say to you while I was drunk!?”

The mortification was instant and complete. Your skin prickled with heat as your thoughts spiraled to the worst possible scenarios. Whatever it was, it had to be bad. You didn’t trust your drunk self to have any sense of shame or decorum.

Curly chuckled, the sound light and amused, and your heart twisted in response. “I don’t mind,” he said softly, gently prying your hands from your face. His touch was impossibly warm, firm but careful, as if you were something delicate.

You reluctantly let him, meeting his gaze with what had to be the most mortified expression he’d ever seen.

“I was hoping for it, actually,” he added, his lips quirking into a shy smile that made your stomach flip.

For a moment, you could only stare at him, utterly appalled. Sitting this close to you, holding your wrists, was the most handsome man you’d ever met. And he wasn’t just okay with what you’d said—he liked it? Wanted it?

This had to be a dream. Or a nightmare.

As if to confirm this wasn’t some cruel trick of your imagination, his hands shifted. One slid from your wrist to cup your face, his thumb brushing the curve of your cheek. His hands were big and warm, his touch tender in a way that made your breath hitch.

“May I kiss you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The words sent a jolt through you. His gaze searched yours, his eyes patient yet tinged with vulnerability. He wasn’t teasing. He was serious.

You couldn’t think. You couldn’t breathe.

“Yes, Curly, please,” you blurted, the words tumbling out before you could process them.

The corner of his mouth twitched into a soft smile before he leaned in. His lips brushed against yours, tentative at first, as if testing the waters. The kiss was so gentle, so achingly tender, it made your chest ache. 

His hand stayed on your cheek, his other resting lightly on the couch beside you, keeping his presence steady but not overwhelming.

Your mind reeled. You couldn’t reconcile this—the softness of his kiss, the warmth of his touch—with your guilt and embarrassment. But as his lips moved against yours, slow and deliberate, the world seemed to fade away.

When he pulled back, just enough to look at you, his hand lingered against your cheek. His eyes searched yours, his expression a mixture of hope and uncertainty.

“You’re… okay?” he asked quietly, his voice tinged with hesitation.

“I…” You blinked, still dazed, your heart thundering in your chest. “I don’t understand. Why would you want this? After everything I said—everything I did—”

He kissed you again.

“I know you’re embarrassed,�� he continued, his voice steady but kind. “And I know you think you messed up, but you didn’t. Not for me.”

The sincerity in his gaze was unbearable. You wanted to look away, but he held you there, his hand grounding you as your emotions churned.

The kiss lingered in the air long after you’d pulled away. Curly’s gaze locked onto yours, searching for something—anything—that would anchor him in the chaos you’d just unleashed. Your expression was a mix of confusion and something else he couldn’t name, and he was sure his face wasn’t much better.

You opened your mouth to say something, but he cut you off before you could speak. “We don’t have to talk about it,” he said quickly, his voice lower than usual, rougher. His hand still rested on your cheek, the warmth of your skin seeping into his palm.

Your brow furrowed, but you didn’t push. “Okay,” you murmured, almost hesitant.

He exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Maybe we... take things slow?” His stomach twisted even as the words left his mouth. He wanted you—God, he wanted you—but not like this. Not with you still looking at him like you were bracing for a rejection that he’d never even consider giving.

But then you nodded, a small, nervous laugh escaping your lips. “Yeah, sure. Slow sounds good.” Your fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt, and he felt his confidence from the wine slipping.

The silence between you wasn’t awkward, exactly—it was heavy, charged. He could feel it in the way your shoulder brushed his when you leaned back, in the way your foot tapped anxiously against the floor.

“Curly,” you began, breaking the quiet. He turned to face you, his chest tightening at the seriousness in your tone. “About what happened. Where do we go from here?”

He swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he waited for you to continue.

“We could...” He hesitated, biting his lip. “We could just keep it casual. No pressure, no expectations. We don’t have to make it... a thing.”

Although those words came out of his own mouth, it hit him like a gut punch, and he hated how quickly his brain latched onto it. He hated himself for even considering it, for wanting to be close to you in any way he could. “No expectations,” he said again, his voice flat. He was so afraid of you rejecting him that he ended it right there—putting you into a situation he knew you were comfortable with. 

After all, he knew you were completely comfortable with just hooking up with people. A part of him didn’t even consider that you’d ever want to be in a committed relationship. And honestly, you thought the same thing about him.

You nodded, expression unreadable. “Yeah, sure. I mean, we’re adults. We can handle it, right?”

He wanted to tell you “nevermind” and “no”. Wanted to tell you that he didn’t want “casual,” didn’t want to be another passing thing in your life. But the thought of losing you, the thought of not having what little you were okay with offering made his chest ache.

“Yeah,” he said finally, the word tasting bitter on his tongue. “If that’s what you want.”

Even then, his mind raced at the idea you’d even be okay with kissing him. Fuck, he thought you didn’t even find him attractive whatsoever.

The room felt smaller, the air thick with something. Curly’s hand started cupping your face again, his pretty eyes searching yours as if for answers to questions he didn’t dare ask out loud. His eyelashes brushed his cheeks as he blinked, watching the nerves show in your face.

“Yeah,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly.

And with that, the dam broke.

With a groan that was half pain, half relief, he pulled you closer. Your mouths collided, the kiss deepening as he lost all semblance of control. His other hand found the back of your neck, pulling you closer still. Everything was so warm about him—his hands, his lips, his hold, everything. You found yourself trying not to melt in his hold.

It was a kiss that spoke of unspoken desires, of quiet yearnings kept hidden beneath a veil of friendship. Even then, it wasn’t honest.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you kissed him back with a passion that surprised even you. You felt alive, your body responding in a way it never had with anyone else. His scent was intoxicating, the warmth of his skin like a blanket on a cold night. You fumbled at the hem of his shirt, eager to feel more of him, to explore the muscular planes of his body that you’d admired from afar.

He broke the kiss, his chest heaving. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice thick with need.

You nodded, your eyes never leaving his. “Yes,” you breathed.

With a gentle nod, he stood, lifting you in his arms with no effort and carrying you to your bed. For all you knew, you looked up at him like he hung the stars. The thought of it made your eyes wrench away from his face, still.

He laid you down with care, his hands roaming over your body as he removed your clothing. You felt a thrill of excitement as his fingertips brushed against your skin, sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

He took in a sharp breath as he felt the planes of your body, thoughts conflicted but so satisfied all at the same time.

The room was a blur of sensations as you lost yourself in the moment. The weight of his body pressing down on yours, the heat of his breath against your neck, the way his hands moved with a confidence that sent shivers down your spine. There was no room for doubt, no space for regrets. Only the here and now, the feel of his skin against yours, and the promise of pleasure that grew with every shared touch.

He unbuttoned his jeans with a smoothness that belied his own excitement and then slid off your pants and underwear off in one fluid movement.

Curly’s eyes roamed over your naked body, a mix of hunger and awe in his gaze. He leaned in, kissing a trail from your belly button to your chest, taking his time to savor every inch of you. His mouth closed around one nipple, eliciting a gasp from you, while his hand explored further down.

The world outside the room ceased to exist as he entered you, filling you in a way that was both familiar and new. 

There were no words, only the sound of your breaths mingling with his, the slap of skin against skin, and the heady rhythm that grew faster, more urgent with each passing moment.

You felt the tension build, your body tightening around him like a vice. He kissed you again, his tongue mimicking the movements of his hips, and you knew you were close. So close.

And then, with a cry that seemed to tear itself from the very depths of your soul, you climaxed, the waves of pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave. He followed, his own release a silent exclamation of ecstasy as he twitched and thrusted once more.

As the aftershocks of passion ebbed away, the room grew still, the silence broken only by the sound of your unsteady breaths. You lay there, staring up at the ceiling, your body warm against Curly’s, his steady heartbeat thumping beneath your ear as you leaned against his chest. The weight of what had just happened pressed down on you—not in regret, but in the terrifying awareness that this wasn’t just physical for you.

Your chest felt heavy, though you couldn’t bring yourself to move. His hand rested idly on your back, his thumb tracing soft circles that you weren’t sure he even realized he was doing. The quiet intimacy of it made your heart ache. You tried to focus on the present, on the afterglow, on the way his skin felt against yours, but your thoughts kept spiraling.

This wasn’t supposed to feel this way. It never has when you hooked up with others.

“Stay the night, Curly,” you said suddenly, your voice softer than you intended. You lifted your head from his chest to look at him, catching the flicker of surprise in his eyes.

His brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he smiled—soft, hesitant, but undeniably warm. “You sure?” he asked, his voice low and still tinged with the rasp of moments earlier.

You nodded, biting back the urge to explain yourself too much. “I don’t want to have to treat you like... the others,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. The confession hung in the air, vulnerable and raw. You swallowed hard, the truth settling uncomfortably between you. You already knew—you couldn’t even imagine sleeping with (or even holding—at this point) anyone else after him.

His chest rose and fell beneath your head in a steady rhythm, his gaze fixed on yours. For a moment, you thought he might push back, remind you of the rules you both agreed on. But instead, his hand slid up to your hair, his fingers weaving gently through it. “You don’t have to,” he murmured, the weight of his words carrying more meaning than you could unpack in that moment.

You melted a little at his words, your lips curving into a small smile despite yourself. The knot in your chest eased just enough for you to breathe again. You hadn’t realized how tightly you’d been holding on until now.

You were still staring at his face after it all, still trying to regain your bearings. Then, breaking the tension with a casualness that felt both maddening and endearing, he grinned at you, boyish and bright. “Wanna grab milkshakes?”

The abruptness of it startled a laugh out of you, your forehead dropping against his chest as the tension between you shifted into something lighter. “Milkshakes?” you repeated, lifting your head to meet his gaze again.

“Yeah, I know a place that’s open late. Best chocolate shake you’ve ever had. Trust me,” he said, his grin widening. “Though I prefer malt.”

You couldn’t help but laugh again, the sound soft and unguarded. “Fine,” you said, shaking your head. “But you’re paying.”

“That was the plan anyway.”

And just like that, the moment shifted. The raw, vulnerable edges dulled slightly, tucked away for another time. But as he kissed your forehead and started pulling on his clothes, you couldn’t help but feel it—your heart was already too tangled for this to stay as simple as you pretended it could be.

a/n: let me know what you all think pleeeease!

big thank you to all the commentors, reblogs, and general LOVE that i've been getting from these fics. it means everything to me & keeps me writing <3

true curly tiddie yucky coming in the next chapter lol

taglist is open! lmk if you want to be on the taglist for just curly/mouthwashing characters or if you want the news on alll my fics.

also might be accepting requests hehe! i can’t guarantee that i can do em, but i’ll accept ideas!

as always, not beta read, please let me know if there are any typos/inconsistencies lmfao;; stay safe & hydrated as always!

thanks for reading! <3

crossposted on ao3

taglist: @m-carriaga2021, @skyeconch, @wolfsune09, @luvsymai

directory/m.list ⇦ previous chapter - next chapter (comin soon)⇨

[creepsterdreams]

Touchstarved HC's + mini-scenarios: The LI's as dads/parents, gn!MC

Content warnings: in certain parts it will mention MC being pregnant but I will tag that as “pregnant!MC” but other than that you can imagine the children are adopted :>, a bit of suggestive content(especially around Kuras’s), mention of vomit in Vere’s part, mention of manipulation in Leander’s part, overwhelming wholesomeness

Word count: 7.8k

Author’s note: I ended up loving this way more than I thought I did and I kinda want to turn this into a little mini-series so if you have any asks related to them as dads please feel free to send them! ^-^

AIS

In full honesty I can see this man having a big family, he won’t admit it, but he would love having a lot of kids 

Like I’m talking 6 kids, MINIMUM 

For Pregnant!MC: But even after that when you were 8 months pregnant with the 6th one he was asking when could you both “get to work” again and you lowkey had to threaten to cut his balls off(starting to think he might have a breeding kink)

But now to the babies themselves 

I lean more towards girl dad!Ais heavily but I also feel like he would be an amazing dad to some little boys, so with that said, I would say he has

Twin boys as the eldest(most likely ages 8-9)

A girl(6)

Another girl(4)

And one more girl(3)

One more boy(8 months)

Yea I know, a lot of babies 

He definitely used the excuse that the temple is big enough for all you when you asked how are you gonna take care of all of them

He wouldn’t tell you but he would thoroughly enjoy the times when he returns home and hears the sound of giggling and small feet running around 

With his little boys he is very playful and sometimes you have to tell him to chill on the roughhousing(the boys never mind it honestly)

Like if he’s not with you, out somewhere, with the girls, or whatever else he’s with them wrestling as if his life depended on it 

Meanwhile the youngest boy is just sitting there, giggling and clapping watching his dad and brothers fight 

Lowkey can barley cook for shit but dw, he’s more than happy to spend god knows how much money(or steal if we’re being honest) on food from restaurants in Eridia 

O m g he literally spoils his little girls to death(he spoils the boys too dw) 

Yes he has limits on what he can do or buy, yes he is fully aware that he can say no, but can you resist those adorable little puppy eyes?

Everytime you send him out and they go with him, he returns with what you wanted, but at least 5 other bags with him(spoiler alert they all belonged to the girls)

Whenever you confront him for it he just looks at you and sends his most innocent smile “I know I could’ve said no sparrow, but look at those faces? How can I resist that?”

Vere sometimes visits (Visits as in randomly walks in whenever he pleases) and plays with the kiddos, often giving you and Ais enough time to leave and spend some “alone time” together in Lowtown. He pretends he’s annoyed by them but you and Ais both know he’ll die for those kids. 

Honestly if anything you both expected them to be afraid of Vere but given that you have Princess as the family pet and live in the wastelands they have better things to be scared of

I’m sorry but his smoking habits do not go away even when he has kids T^T

He simply just learns to hide it better 

Aka he only does it when he’s away from them or their asleep and in the case where they catch him he throws it not giving a fuck where it could’ve landed 

Would most def give his kids names of japanese origin I’m sorry you cannot argue with me on this 

Moving on to the serious bits 

He has one huge rule that all the kiddos have to follow no matter what 

“Under absolutely no circumstance do you go near the sea spring.”

Ais specifically made it a priority to have your “house” parts of the temple far from it so they would never need a reason to go there

But unfortunately these are small children we’re talking about so of course their curiosity gets the best of them

The oldest twin was wandering around one day and stumbled upon it, voice began echoing in his head, luring him closer to the deadly waters. And just as he leaned down and was about to drink the mysterious liquid, a roaring voice yelling his name ripped him away from the waters 

Ais had never experienced pure terror so intense as he had then, and he never wants to feel that again(Ocedus lowkey took over for a moment when he was scolding the kiddo but he would never know that)

But moving on from the angst 

One of the best dads, genuinely 

He raises his boys to be strong but also knows it’s okay to have bad moments, and no one will judge you for them. But he also raises his young girls to be the same way, but he’s just a “tad” bit more protective of them. 

This demon loves his big family so much and wouldn’t trade them for anything

You and Ais were both laying down in your shared bed, you cuddled up against his chest while his arm was wrapped around you. You both were enjoying some time of relaxation in the early morning before any of the kids woke up, because unfortunately you knew once one was awake, the rest will all come piling out of their shared room in due time.

After a few minutes, Ais’s face pulls into a soft smirk, sighing sarcastically before looking down at you.

“Here comes trouble.”

Whelp, shit 

That’s when all of the sudden, the sound of rapid footsteps came racing, and then you and Ais were being crushed by both of your sons.

“Papa! [preferred parents name]! Get uuuppp!” The eldest yelled at the two of you.

“Alright alright you little gremlins we’re coming.” Ais says while laughing before pulling both of his sons into a headlock.

But just as you were sitting up and getting ready to stand, that’s when two of your daughters came racing, screaming for you and Ais also jumping onto the futon. You catch the both of them and let out a surprised noise, holding them close to your chest. 

But finally, your oldest daughter walks in, carrying your youngest son in her arms while giggling. Ais notices the baby with her and raises his eyebrow.

“Sweetheart, what did we say about sneaking in here and taking your little brother?” 

She lets out another giggle, holding her brother closer while walking to you and Ais. “But he wanted to play with us! I know he did!” 

Ais then releases the two boys from his arms, quickly reaching over to grab your daughter and son and pull them onto his lap, before proceeding to tickle her.

You put down your other kids before leaning over to grab your son and coo at him as he reaches his small hands towards you.

Ais eventually stops tickling the young girl and lays down again with her in his arms, signaling over to you to lay down with them. Before you know it, you, Ais, and all of the kiddos are cuddling together while wrapped around blankets, guess whatever playing they were doing before coming here wore them out surprisingly fast.

As the kids all fell asleep once again, you and Ais remained awake for some more time. Peering up at him, you send him a small smile, basking in the comfort and warmth of the room. He looks right back at you with an expression that only can be described as loving, he leans down, pressing a soft kiss against your lips, quiet whispers of “I love you” echoing through your ears.

He truly couldn’t ask for a better way to wake up.

LEANDER

Although I can definitely see him as a family man, I feel like Leander would like to have some space between when he has kids instead of rushing to have one after the other 

Getting A LOT of girl dad vibes from this man, he would love to have a little princess and you can’t tell me otherwise 

I can see him with one shy little one who’s always hiding behind her dad’s leg when he’s talking to people

He’s extremely extroverted and she’s the definition of an introvert so everyone’s wondering where she got it from(most likely you)

For pregnant!MC, he treated you like a god throughout the entirety of those 9 months. Even tho he was a bit disgusted by some of your cravings, he wanted to keep you happy

“Sure sweetheart of course I can get you cookies with a side of pickle juice ^-^”

He loves that little girl to death omg

As in whatever she wants, she gets

If she wants to have a tea party with him featuring some of the bloodhounds, guess what? Grab him a tiara and a tea cup that can barely fit in his hand

Unfortunately one of the issues that came with her was now he couldn’t spend as much time at the Wet Wick as he would’ve pleased, sure most of it was still gonna be spent there but how would he explain why he had a 6 year old with him at a bar?

 So that led to him eventually finding a home as close as possible to the damn place so at least he wouldn’t have to walk far(He asked the owner at first if he can actually have the spare room upstairs for all three of you and she almost banned him all together)

Loves taking her out on adventures in Lowtown and even has a little handmade bloodhound cloak made for her

I’m sorry for anyone who will find this cringe but he would unironically call her “babygirl”

I just get those kinda vibes 

Literally takes at least an hour once a day to teach her a little bit about magic because she wanted to be able to conjure her own flowers

Most of her wardrobe is filled with the nicest dresses and outfits money can buy(50% of the money is what he gets from jobs and the other 50% is whatever is left over from his allowance of when he was still living with family)

Aside from her shyness, she is literally a mini him 

You lost count of how many random small animals she’s brought home and begged to keep

“Honey I understand that it was hurt after falling off some boxes, but that is a soulless.”

On occasion you’ve caught her using the little bit of magic Leander taught her to make her stuffed animals walk around, but you thought the sight was so adorable you didn’t say anything about it

He has been singing her lullaby’s since she was a baby and it’s to a point where she can recall every lyric in a heartbeat

It makes him cry but he denies it everytime 

Seems like the kinda guy that would name her something like “Skylar”, “Rosemary”, “Magnolia”, or “Tallulah”

Definitely something that sounds beautiful or adventurous 

A little more angsty headcanons 

Giving that the biggest analysis we have of his character is that his whole kindness act is a facade and that a monster hides beneath that 

As she continues growing, Leander becomes increasingly more protective 

Sure she has other friends and most likely people she can spend time with, but how would Leander be able to keep an eye on her if he isn’t around?

Spoiler alert, he has bloodhounds follow her around and report everything back to him 

She’s out at the market with some besties getting food? Cool, he’ll pretend he didn’t already know that when she comes back home to tell him all about it

However, unfortunately, one of those bloodhounds couldn’t be careful enough and she found out 

Cue an hour long argument where she’s telling him she can protect herself and doesn’t need him stalking her

Cue him saying it’s to keep her safe and that she should be lucky he isn’t keeping her in the house 24/7(whoopsie the bad side slipped out a bit)

Eventually you have to step in and tell the both of them to relax and talk when they're both calm :( 

Back to the wholesomeness though

He genuinely cherishes her and always makes sure that she has whatever her heart desires 

But he also teaches her to protect those who can’t protect themselves 

But even after she grows into a strong fighter, at the end of the day she’ll always be his little girl

Leander was sitting at his desk, quietly filling out some paperwork after a long week of back to back jobs for the bloodhounds. He was exhausted, but there was work to be done. 

But as he was busy writing out some reports, the door to the small study opened, and in walked none other than his daughter, who was holding one of her many stuffed animals close to her chest.

“...Daddy?” She called out to him in a hushed tone. 

Leander quickly looked up from the paper, eyes drifting over to the small girl who was standing in the doorway. He sat the pen he was holding down and set the huge stack to the side. That all can wait, what was more important was making sure she was okay.

“Hey there baby girl, everything okay?” He stood up and walked over to her, crouching down so he was on her level.

She looked down at the floor shyly, trying to muster up the courage to continue talking. She hugged her teddy bear closer to her, hiding her face within its fur. “I can’t sleep..Can I stay with you?”

Leander’s face automatically lit up, and he shot her a wide grin. “Of course you can! Come on.” 

After saying that, Leander leans over to pick the little girl up, sliding his arm underneath her body so she can hang off of his side. He then walks back over to the desk, sitting down and adjusting her so she is now resting on his lap. 

“Comfortable?” 

She nodded slowly, snuggling closer into his arms so her head was now resting on his chest. 

Leander smiles down at her, wrapping his right arm tightly around her body so she is secure. But as Leander was about to return to his work, she spoke up yet again.

“Daddy? Can you sing that song from last night?”

Leander glanced down at her again before letting out a light chuckle, “If that’s what my princess wants.” 

Leander clears his throat and sits back in the chair, the little girl grinning in happiness as she hears the sound of her father’s voice beginning to echo throughout the room. 

Some time later you're wandering around the house, searching for your daughter. You wanted to check on her after putting her to bed some time ago, you were honestly beginning to feel worried as you hadn’t even heard her leave the bedroom. But then you remembered there was one place you hadn’t checked, Leander’s study. 

Taking light steps down the hall, you're eventually able to slowly open the door, and the sight you're greeted with almost brings you to tears. 

Leander is resting back against the chair, his arms securely wrapped around your little girl as if he’s trying to protect her from whatever might appear through the door, and head shifted to the side, facing her. Your daughter is laying across his lap with her head against his chest using it as a makeshift pillow, with her holding her teddy bear closely to her body. 

You smile warmly, using your hand to cover your mouth as you walk over to the two of them. Once you reach the chair, you lean down just enough to press a soft kiss on Leander’s head, using your right hand to caress his cheek and swipe some hair out of his face. You then do the same thing to your daughter, placing a kiss on the top of her head and readjusting her a bit so she won’t potentially slip out of his arms, although judging by how tight he’s holding on, you doubt it. 

After kissing them goodnight, you slowly walk towards the door again, not wanting to wake either of them. Before closing the door, you whisper a small “goodnight my loves”, and leave the two of them alone for the night. 

KURAS

The question we should be asking is can this man even have children?

He’s quite literally a biblical angel who has been alive for centuries. Are we sure he’s even fertile?????

We shall find out 

I feel like Kuras was very conflicted on the idea of children for a while, he’s a doctor who is constantly on the job and probably doesn’t have time for most personal pleasures 

But after a time where a panicked mother brought her son to the clinic because he was hurt while playing with some friends, he was considering some things

Seeing her worry so much for him, care so much about his safety that she ran god knows how many blocks to get here? It interested him 

Pregnant!MC, it honestly shocked you a few weeks later when Kuras confirmed you were in fact carrying his child. Mostly due to the fact that Kuras isn’t even remotely human

But alas, here you are

I can see Kuras as both a girl dad and a boy dad 

But I can see him with a little boy that is literally a carbon copy of him 

Pregnant!MC, you were very disappointed when you spent 9 months cooking him in your stomach just for him to pop out with only some of your features 

But if we’re talking adoption then the young boy just straight up snatches his entire personality and his intelligence 

Imagine going to the doctor’s clinic for a check up and you here him ask for some bandages but your confused since no one else is there

Just for a few seconds later a boy who looks no older than at least 10 comes into the room and hands him the bandages and leaves as if that exchange was completely normal 

I get the kind of vibes that he would name him something fancy sounding. Like “Emil” or “Alaster” 

Something that definitely rolls off the tongue nice 

But given that your son got his intelligence, that also means he got his sass 

You thought the reason your little boy was struggling to make friends his age was because his maturity level was a little too high for them, but turns out it was because he kept pulling pranks and roasting the absolute fuck out of them

So that led to you and Kuras having to sit him down and explain to make friends he had to be nice not give them a bottle of basically the equivalent of a fart bomb while lying and saying it was a “good smelling flower”

Of course he listened and was able to make some friends, but unfortunately, the pranks did not go away. He just only started doing them after he knew them for a while 

He definitely fake gags whenever he sees you and Kuras being affectionate with each other 

“Ewwww your basically swapping saliva”

The way he and Kuras get along is bonding over science 

Sitting around the clinic for hours going through different books and papers 

There have been occasions where you’ve came back and saw him passed out in Kuras’s arms because Kuras was reading a book about astronomy to him 

It was so wholesome you almost cried 

A bit of angst

Now we all know Kuras’s worst flaw is his lack of empathy 

It’s not that he doesn’t care at all, it’s just he struggles to understand other people’s emotions 

So this caused some conflict between him and his son :( 

It’s been theorized that whatever Kuras’s “true form” is, is something extremely similar to a biblical angel 

And with that we can guess if you had your son through biological means, that form passed to him as well (we love genetics)

There was a day where Kuras witnessed a crowd of people, adults and children all running away from a specific area. At first, he wondered if someone could’ve gotten injured, so that’s why he went straight in the opposite direction that everyone else was going. Unfortunately, someone was in fact injured, even more unfortunate, the cause of that said injury was his son. Someone had been bullying one of his friends and in a moment of anger from wanting to protect him he accidentally transformed. A day that Kuras wanted to be far from now 

(If your son is adopted then you can pretend that he just got mad and beat up the other kid and felt bad about the fact that he lost his cool)

So that led to Kuras having to carry the injured boy while you carried your son that was currently bawling in your arms after he realized what happened 

After treating the young lad and waiting for his parents to come and find him. Kuras brought his son to his room to talk (that he somehow had personally made. Where did he get the money from? Does he even know how to build a room???) 

At first the talk did not go well. Kuras had to sit there and explain to him how his abilities work, where he got them from, and attempt to do an even better job in comforting him over the situation. And your son, still being emotional (which is understandable he just horribly injured a person without knowing), felt like Kuras didn’t care enough.

So as a result, he refused to speak to him for days. Like daayyyyssss

It wasn’t until Kuras convinced you to make his favorite dish (because remember he can’t cook for shit), and have it for dinner so then he’ll have to speak to him. Which eventually led to them making up and your son being all smiles again :>

But moving on from the sadness

Kuras wants to make sure his boy grows up being the best person he can be. Giving him all the resources he needs (practically home schooled him), teaching him all the life lessons he needs, and making sure he always cared for others

Can’t have him making the same mistakes as he did 

Even though he might not show it a lot, he loves that kid more than anything, and he wouldn’t trade your little family for the world ^-^

After putting your son to bed, you and Kuras finally had some sort of alone time. With you still trying to find a way into the Senobium to find some information linked to your curse, and Kuras having patients day in and day out, you guys barely had any time with each other. So thankfully, after tonight's dinner, and some more playing, your son was out like a light much earlier than you expected. 

Kuras was currently resting on top of you, his hands on each side of your head as he places gentle kisses onto your face and neck, reveling in the sound of your giggles as your own pair of hands drag through his hair. 

“Getting restless are we darling?” He says teasingly. 

You laugh at him again, messing up his hair and bringing him close to share a deep kiss. You feel the sensation of his tongue grazing your bottom lip. You then flip the both of you over so you're the one on top and start dragging your hand down down his chest, getting more closer to the top of his pants. 

But suddenly, a quiet voice interrupted the heating atmosphere. 

“.....Father? [preferred parent name]?” 

At the speed of the gods themselves, you quickly jumped off of Kuras, sitting on the side of the bed, and facing your son. Kuras sat up as well, grabbing a robe so he could cover himself a bit. After that he turned towards the door again, wondering why his son was up so suddenly. 

“Why are you awake little one? Is something troubling you?” He said with a concerned tone. 

Your son fiddles with the ends of his pajamas for a moment, obviously a little nervous about answering the question. 

“I had a bad dream, and now I can’t sleep. Can you read me a story…please?” 

Kuras looks surprised for a moment, before he lets out a snicker and scoots over a bit before patting the area, signaling his son to come sit. The young boy makes his way over to the bed, climbing up onto it and sitting down in between the two of you, watching as Kuras leans over to a small table and picks up a book. 

He opens it to the first page, leaning closer so your son can also see the words, and then he begins reading. 

After a while, Kuras manages to get through a good amount of the book, his smooth, silk voice providing good narration for your son, luring him into another deep sleep as he rests against his chest. 

Kuras himself is pulled into his own little daze, his eyes stretching across the paper as he reads every word out loud. But a small bump against his shoulder brings him back to reality. Looking over he notices you have also fallen asleep, lying down against his shoulder and softly snoring. He smiles softly before grabbing a bookmark and placing it on the book before closing it and putting it back on the table.

He then scoots even closer, leaning his own head against yours, and wrapping his arms around the both of you in a soft embrace. 

His own way of promising protection, reassuring that no harm may come to either of you as long as he’s around.

VERE

How you even managed to date this man much less have children with him is a mystery within itself 

For the longest period, you always believed that Vere wanted nothing to do with kids

And honestly, he himself understood why you thought that\

He’s been alive for centuries, and for most of those centuries him and small children were never a good mix

It was always either they were scared of him, or he found their never-ending hyperactivity annoying 

But one day, while Vere was walking behind you (more like stalking you but you’ll never find out). He noticed that you stopped to help a little girl who was looking for her mom along the busy streets. She was crying but you managed to calm her down by buying her something sweet, and then after that you walked around, looking for her mother. You did eventually find her, and the woman thanked you profusely for finding her daughter, and you replied back saying it was no problem. 

But that sight alone warmed something in Vere. Rarely ever in his years of living had he seen something so soft, so gentle and loving. 

So eventually when you returned back to your home at the wet wick, Vere was already sitting on your bed waiting for you. And before you could ask, he was immediately in your face asking a question you never expected to hear from him 

“How do you feel about having children, my pet?”

“......huh?”

Pregnant!MC - Cue to a few weeks later when both you and Kuras are staring at each other in complete shock when he tells you that yes, you are in fact pregnant 

And Vere is just standing outside with the most smug look on his face

But annnywwaayyyy

Cut to current times and now you and Vere are holding twin baby girls

I’m sorry just like the others he gives off girl dad vibes

Even if you decided to adopt rather than go through the pregnancy, somehow Vere managed to find two fox babies, so either way, he had his fox children (Don’t ask where he found them, you don’t want to know)

Is…surprisingly an okay dad?

 He’s not perfect, then again he’s not horrible, it’s a weird situation 

His pet names for them could use some work but hey, it looks cute from a distance 

Because “my precious little monsters”, “my little terrors”, and “my little nightmares” would not look good to others. But to Vere it's somehow perfect???

He spoils those babies to hell and back, like literally everything they own is of the top most quality 

“Of course I can’t have my children caught dead in anything less. They need to look just as good as I do.”

Sometimes people avoid walking down the same street as them because they get embarrassed by the fact that literally infants have better stuff than them

Now the question is, where did you even put all of these things?

Upon getting the babies, Vere had you (ahem forced) moved out of the room in the wet wick because “I would be damned if I let that egotistical man-child be near my girls for longer than he needs to be.” 

And hence, you and the babies were moved into a little town house Vere had found that had been abandoned for a while, and he refurbished it himself. And it turns out it had been close to his favorite restaurant which was nice. 

But as he spoils them as much as possible, the personal care can use some work.

Feeding them? No problem. burping them? No problem (however he does hold them in a weird position so they can’t possibly vomit and get it all over his clothes, it gets the job done but still T-T). Putting them to sleep? Can take a bit because he does get a little impatient, but it works out eventually. Playing with them? An absolute pro. Changing them? Yea that’s unfortunately your job MC, he does have a sensitive nose. 

Ais sometimes visits and plays with the little princesses while you and Vere go off and hang out together (and also get some “alone” time)

He definitely gives them very fancy sounding names that also definitely match. 

“Luna & Lilah”, “Olivia & Sophia”, “Penelope & Poppy”, the list goes on 

On top of spoiling them, he also does the thing where he pretends to understand exactly what they're saying even if it’s just babbling, but except it's in the worst way possible. 

“Ababbababbasdindasnd”

“Hmmm…yes my dear I completely agree, those pants do absolutely hideous on him”

“Vere omg stop he’s looking at us-”

Unfortunately, some angst

Given Vere’s situation, there do come some complicated situations. In which it leads to Vere being 2x as protective over all of you 

The Senobium never expected him to love someone, even less have children with them

So Vere really has no choice but to hide things from both parties here. With the kids, having to excuse his random disappearances as just adventures, and having to tell those damn clerics that he has no one. 

Those long hours that he has to spent locked up in some dungeon only makes him feel even guiltier because he knows his excuses aren't going to last forever 

But of course, his double life didn’t last forever

A day where he was finally able to return home after hours of killing people for the Senobium, instead of being greeted with you probably sitting in your shared bed while watching your two girls babble and giggle away. Instead he finds you on the ground, crying, and clutching your stomach as if you were injured. And the babies nowhere to be found

Vere rushes over, immediately disregarding any jokes he had in his head to ask you what happened.

You explain to him that some clerics had somehow found out where you lived and charged into the house, demanding to give them very personal information. When you refused to answer they attacked you and took the girls with them.

You apologized to Vere over and over again, blaming yourself for not being able to protect them better. But Vere told you it’s not your fault, it’s the fault of the ones who thought it would be smart to fuck with what’s his. 

Vere of course marched up right to the place where they were keeping his kids, even before he could enter he heard the sounds of their cries, only angering him further 

Now he knew he couldn’t kill the clerics, that was one of the damn enchantments they had put on the collar he’s wearing, but they never said he couldn’t injure them

When he got there, they did antagonize him. Getting on him for keeping something sooo important from them, condescendingly asking what would the Abess think if she found out he was hiding such a secret.

 But what really pissed him off was when they had the balls to insinuate that maybe they should enslave his babies too, since he was so keen on being a family man

Yea let’s just say they were all in comas by the time he was finished. He’ll deal with the Abess later, his daughters were his biggest priority right now. 

He had never felt that much fear in his life as he did at that moment. He immediately grabbed the two of them and held them as close as possible for a long time, checking for any injuries. A part of him was furious at himself for not getting there sooner to do something, but he knew what was important right now was calming them down

He’ll never let something like that happen again

But moving on from the angst 

Although Vere can be a bit difficult when it comes to actually caring for his kids, he still loves them nonetheless, in his own Vere way 

And even though he raises them to be the best of the best, and take shit from no one, resulting in them inheriting his sassiness. They do become very sweet young ladies, which is good for you :>

Both you and Vere were sleeping in your shared room. His arms and tail wrapped around you in a tight embrace. But the quietness was broken by the sound of your youngest crying from the other room, probably feeling lonely and wanting one of you there with her. You and Vere slowly sit up from your places on the bed, filled with exhaustion and grumbling from being woken up. 

But before you can get up to go comfort the little one, Vere pushes you back down so your head is resting against the pillow again. “I’ll take care of her, go back to sleep.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Are you sure? I know you get extra grumpy when something wakes you out of your beauty sleep.”

Vere rolls his eyes at your remark, getting up to grab one of his designer robes and throw it on before walking to the bedroom door. “You better not be awake by the time I get back.”

You playfully throw back a “yes sir” before laying back down and closing your eyes, causing him to snicker before leaving and making his way towards the nursery. 

Walking in, he makes quick but quiet steps towards the crib where his baby girl was, taking note to not accidentally wake up his other daughter. (thank the gods she was a deep sleeper)

Her ears were currently pulled back against her head and her tail was pointing straight down as her tears continued rolling down her face. 

Once reaching the crib, Vere picked her up and held her against his chest. “Oh my little monster, what’s bothering you hm?”

He holds her close and walks over to a rocking chair that was sitting in a corner of the room, after sitting down on it he begins slowly rocking them both and trying to hush her tears. 

After a few minutes, her cries begin to calm down and turn into soft whimpers. This makes Vere show a soft smile, happy that was able to get her to settle down. 

“There you go my precious one, good girl.” He keeps rocking, not wanting the possibility of the girl getting fussy again. 

She giggles in response, grabbing her tail and chewing on the ends of it. Vere laughs and removes it from her mouth before grabbing her hand and playfully nibbling on it, this makes her laugh again and wriggle in his arms. 

Eventually, she was able to fall asleep again, this time in her father’s arms as he watched her with nothing but love in his eyes. 

MHIN

It’s honestly the same thing with Vere, how you manage to even get into something romantic with them much less have kids is truly one of the wonders of the world

And just like Vere, you always assumed Mhin would want nothing to do with kids

For multiple reasons

They were never in one place for too long, they were constantly grumpy/in a bad mood, their job was hunting for a living, not to mention their apparent curse probably made things 10x more difficult than it needed to be. 

But being all honest, you noticed the empathetic look in their eyes as whenever the both of you were passing the orphanage, you can tell they felt bad for those children who had no other family to turn too, and wished they could do something about it

So with that, the both of you ended up having very long discussion about where to go from there, and what to do with both of your wishes

So that’s how you ended up with a baby boy in your arms that the women at the orphanage were very insistent on you and Mhin caring for 

I apologize to anyone that wanted to see Pregnant!MC for Mhin but I always imagined them as the kind of person that preferred adoption over pregnancy T-T but I might make a separate post for how LI’s would act with Pregnant!MC :>

Of course you and Mhin did your best to make any preparations for a child, but you weren’t expecting the orphanage to find someone for you that fast

You were honestly surprised when Mhin brought you to the outskirts of Lowtown where there was a small house that looked almost abandoned that had apparently been where they called home for months 

When you questioned them about it they just responded with saying they wanted to lay low so they found somewhere no one would expect them to be 

Also

“I didn’t want you…or him to be around that fucker while we’re trying to keep him safe.”

Yes they were talking about Leander

They also want to keep the baby around only Kuras until they deem everyone else trustworthy(no you cannot talk them out of this)

But eventually when your able to settle down with the little guy, things feel a little more domestic 

It was a tough transition for the both of you, but you managed to get through it :>

Mhin tries to stop taking less jobs and finding ways to sneak into the Senobium, but now that they have you and their son now, they are even more determined to find a way to get rid of their own curse because now their paranoia of hurting you two has doubled 

And with that Mhin was afraid of getting too close for a while, leaving most of the care to you while they watched from behind 

But one day after a long time of convincing, you managed to convince them to hold the little one

It was honestly a little funny watching them panic a bit while the little guy rests in their arms, it was a situation that they had never been faced with 

But they eventually got the hang of it and even played with him a bit, making them smile as they watched their son giggle 

After that Mhin started caring for him more, picking up whatever needed to be done whenever you were away or wanted a break

I can see Mhin wanting to name him something with russian origins, idk why but russian Mhin has been on my mind lately and I can’t get it out 

Something like “Luka”, “Dimitri”, or “Lev”

Even though Kuras is the only doctor in Eridia, he is still the only doctor Mhin is willing to trust with their baby boy

Anytime there is a problem with him Mhin is immediately putting him into a wrap carrier and racing towards the clinic

Nine times out of ten he just has a small cold but Mhin panicked 

They totally still try and do some cultural things that they remember from Lovent with the kiddo, even if it’s barely anything at all it’s enough to bring a smile to their face :>

He doesn’t spoil his little boy as much as the others do, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get spoiled at all

Mhin’s way of spoiling him is whenever they come across something they think he might like while out on a job, it’s in their pockets moments later 

It doesn’t happen all the time, but it’s still adorable 

And now some angst

Given that the biggest headcanon about their curse is that the times they can transform is almost unpredictable, this creates some issues between all of you, especially when they return home from jobs

Mhin of course has an entire protocol for whenever this happens, giving you an entire rundown for it in case they ever transform.

If it ever happens and they're outside the house, lock every point of entry and don’t let them in no matter what. But if they're ever inside the house and it happens, take your son and leave as quickly as possible and go to Kuras. 

But one day, something you never expected happened one night

You were awoken to the sound of your maybe making noises that could only be described as curiosity and almost…joy? 

Sitting up, what you see makes you immediately freeze in place. In the corner of the room opposite of your son’s crib, a massive, black figure sits, its huge, white eyes glow, being one of the only things visible. Somehow your automatically able to tell it’s Mhin, mostly due to the fact that you know of no other bird like creatures

You didn’t know what to do, every possible thing you could’ve done would have opened the possibility of setting…it off 

So all you can do is sit there as your baby keeps giggling and them, while you and the bird just stare at each other 

Eventually, you notice it began to shrink, signaling that Mhin was slowly returning. And you couldn’t be any happier for that news

But once Mhin was finally back, they were crouched down on the floor, breathing heavily and holding a hand against their neck

Your son took notice of this and began whimpering, about to cry from seeing his parent in distress

The next day your little boy was sent to Kuras for a while to check for any injuries, while you and Mhin stayed behind. Unfortunately, this started a massive argument between the two of you

Mhin angry because you both could’ve been in terrible danger and they wouldn’t have been able to live with the thought that they could’ve killed you two. And you telling them that you had no other choice but to sit and no nothing because if you attempted to run then that would’ve only made the situation worse

The argument went on for some time, both of you going back and forth for god knows how long. Eventually, it just resulted in both of you sitting in uncomfortable silence, not wanting to say anything to the other 

But eventually, Mhin spoke up again, saying that their fear of hurting the two of you was stronger than anything else, and they would rather not have a family at all then live with the guilt of what would happen.

So you guys did end up making up, managing to talk things through and find a compromise :>

Moving on from the angst

Like Vere before, Even if it’s rare that Mhin would directly say “I love you” It’s always told through their actions 

From willing to spend countless hours comforting their son, or trying to get him to sleep, or just playing with him, that alone tells you enough that they love him more than anything than whatever's left in this wretched world.

And they wouldn’t have it any other way ^-^

Mhin was returning home late one night after a long hunt of killing soulless. They were utterly exhausted and wanted nothing more than to pass out in your arms. 

Dragging themselves through the door, they are met with the sight of you sleeping soundly in the bed, in a position giving them the idea that you were waiting for them to return. They took off their cloak and threw it onto the floor before taking off their boots and setting them next to the door. 

But before they can flop down against the bed, a high pitched giggle rings through their ears. Turning around they see their baby boy standing up in his crib while hanging on to the ledges, his giggling only escalating when he notices them looking at him. Mhin walks over to the crib, leaning over to pick up the little one and bring him into their arms. 

“Shhhhh…you’ll wake up your [preferred parent name].” They say as they lightly bounce the little one in their arms. 

They walk over to the small playpen they made themselves and sit down in it, setting their son on their lap before grabbing a toy that has the appearance of a baby duck. The baby immediately reaches towards it while laughing, showing off his gummy smile. Mhin softly smiles, making the toy look like it’s walking towards him while making some “quacking” noises. This makes the boy giggle even more, doing his best to mimic the sounds even though he hasn’t been speaking for that long yet. 

Eventually, Mhin places the toy on his lap, letting him grab onto it while wagging it around in the air. While he was doing this, Mhin removed their shirt, exposing the bandages that were covering their chest, they then threw the shirt to where their cloak is, telling themselves they’ll get it in the morning. 

After about a good hour of playing with their little boy, they eventually take the toy from him, making him whimper a bit as he reaches for it again, but Mhin lightly shushing him calms him back down. 

Mhin then takes him back into his arms, lifting themselves up and walking over to the bed and sitting down against it, making sure to move carefully to not wake you up. 

After that, they lay down in the bed, still holding the little one close to their chest as they lean their head back against the pillow. 

It takes a while but he does eventually fall asleep, resting against their chest as they wrap their arm softly around his body, and letting their free hand lay on the small of your back. 

And then it was their turn to fall asleep, but this time, instead of having the regular restless slumber they usually experience, it was quiet, and peaceful for once. 

Author’s note: This ended up being so much longer than I had anticipated but it was very much worth the wait and I hope you enjoy it just as much as I do ^-^

[suguru-getos]

Genshin Impact characters and how they comfort you (F!Reader):

A/N: It's been a while lovelies :P since yours truly touched Genshin Impact. In all honesty, the game remains to be my comfort game & the characters give me so much joy. Here's me, word-vomiting about them blorbos. ;)

Characters included: Neuvillette, Wriothesley, Alhaitham, Ayato

Neuvillette:

The only reason he hasn't cried (yet) is because he is thinking hard on what to do when you're blue. Would probably suggest that you and him go together for a walk! Hey! Don't judge him - a walk fixes everything. Besides, someone who hasn't had a romantic interest in centuries really needs to learn a thing or two. He doesn't mind writing an official application about his absence and walking along the streets of Fontaine with you. He knows the Melusine village brings you a lot of comfort so it's also his go-to place whenever he's feeling down. He tried making you taste different kinds of waters - yep, didn't end well for the Hydro Dragon Sovereign. However, lessons are to be learnt and he learnt them well! Now, he has realized that mostly, your sadness can be satiated with something delectable to soothe your tongue. He started with soup, well? Naturally.. though that didn't end well either. He now has realized what he might like, you might/might not. So, he takes the more aware turn & takes you to places you like, or sometimes doesn't do anything. Happily wraps his arms around you, kisses your forehead and doesn't say anything. Silence and hugs? Best! He's noticed you like that far better.

Ayato:

The Yashiro Commissioner is a cocky fellow, and sometimes a tad too overconfident. He thinks he knows you inside out; that's not something he refers from you though. He thinks it's because no one can ever love you more than Kamisato Ayato. (He is kinda right? Though what's worse is he is mostly correct about the things that you need.) Like - he knows when that period begins, and when the mood swings absolutely obliterate you; he knows some Fontainian chocolate, or Mousse will come to the rescue. Some dangos might also help. The Kamisato Estate staff is trained to not fall pale to your needs. You & him both know that with all the travel opportunities you accompany Ayato in, you do have taste-buds which would be bored with Inazuman food alone. Whenever there is something bothering you personally, Ayato would ask you to vent it out. He firmly believes in annoying you with persistent cooing and crooning of, "Hey Princess, what's got that pretty face so long?" / "Oh come now, don't tell me you would hide things from your husband? I feel judged already. Do I not deserve to know?" You do end up telling him everything - and while Ayato is surprisingly good at giving advices… you always like how he asks first, if you want him to listen, or give his opinions.

Alhaitham:

The Scribe of Sumeru's Akademiya who is also your boyfriend - usually takes the overly analytical route, rationalizing everything. So you often don't tell him about the things that bother you. Since he is so observant and keen however, you can never really slide something that's got you down under the rug either. "You are behaving differently." Alhaitham commented, "Usually when you come home, from outside… you freshen up." He comments at the lack thereof, watching you squirm under his gaze. Of course, whenever you feel down your mind and body send you in a slump. "Oh- yeah, I'll get to that." You quickly comment, though you're cut off by his tender hold on your wrist. "Course you can, something wrong?" Now he knows the 'Female Anatomy', as he likes to call it. Often going out of his way to explain your hormonal cycle, what you should do when you are in your leutal, menstrual, ovulation phases etc. You don't have to say much in certain times as such. Though he acts like nothing's the matter when you do vent about let's say - something at work/Akademiya; there have been instances where he would pay personal visits to some people for pissing his girl off. Duality? Yep.

Wriothesley:

'His' Grace; is extremely kind to everyone, and fair. You being his significant other, get your own perks from time to time. For example: He is always available for tea for his little one. He is always available to listen to you whenever. He considers it fortunate enough that you are willing to live in the Fortress of Meropide with him - he knows it's the harshest decision especially from someone who hasn't done any crime whatsoever. There are days when even someone like Wriothesley (who seldom goes out) makes sure that he visits the world up above with you. Might take you to the Opera, might take you to those fabulous boutiques, anything and everything fashion the second he notices your eyes glim. Nope, none of that is tolerated here. The prisoners have started calling you 'Her Grace'; while you do not prefer it, Wriothesley does not mind, he is fine with you being treated like someone treasured. That would ensure that people around you would tend to you also, when you're down. Damn does this man love body massages, giving them to you and watching your shoulders slump. He needs to be so careful with you though. Can’t be too rough else his little baby would break… <3

[artificiallita]

i got bit by the butch wolverine bug and trust me im in lov w her BUT have we considered futch deadpool???

(headcanons and upcoming fic snippets under the cut)

working on a big silly fanfic about this hot mess boinking logan in the odyssey. here’s some headcanons while the story finishes cooking.

- so. kept her first name as wade. i’ve seen a few alt names floating around for f!deadpool (big love for the winnies, winonas, and wandas of the ladypool extended universe) but genderfuck ‘not rlly a name’ just fits my vision for her. her parents were weird idk.

- deadpool is a woman in all variants except one in my personal headcanon. he is called dudepool. also her corresponding nicepool is male gaze-ified pre-mutation wade. she’s bleach blonde and her suit has a titty window.

- ex special forces turned mercenary whose life shit the bed when she was diagnosed with cancer. tried to be proactive about it long enough to get a mastectomy, then found out said cancer was pretty much everywhere else, and we know the story from there. since this predates her healing factor, she’s permanently single-boobed. has padding in her suit to even her out since it doesn’t leave a whole lot to the imagination, wears big t-shirts and ignores it in her civilian life.

- bisexual disaster zone. spent many years in a very happy and deeply perverted relationship with a male stripper named van carlysle, until that went down the toilet. a solid 70% of the casual sex she has is with women.

- dresses like the shitshow nightmare we know and love, loves an awful t shirt and a pair of crocs. put little to no effort into her appearance pre-mutation and that hasn’t really changed, had a brief phase of screwing around with makeup and wigs and then decided it was basically - to use a line of internal monologue from the pending fic - rolling a turd in glitter.

- speaking of, has a real complex about the changes to the way people perceive her post-mutation, namely that they seem to find her super fucking irritating and odd in a way that they very much Didn’t when she was still conventionally hot. between her military background and the general company she keeps, she’s quite often the only woman in her circles, and has always been a dysfunctional mess of adhd and unfiltered word-vomit, but that was generally read as mpdg ‘cool girl’ behaviour prior to her transformation, and now people seem to just think she’s a lunatic. less ‘oh god im hideous’, although she *absolutely* has those moments too, more ‘oh god everyone i know has thought i was a weird pain in the ass this entire time and only tolerated me because they wanted to fuck me’

- wears a lot of poorly applied eyeliner and purposely sleeps in it because she thinks it looks cool. it does not.

- had absolutely zero plans to snitch to cassandra about johnny’s rant, right up until the ‘bald hell’ line. she took that shit personally (almost definitely didn’t need to but whatever. i support women’s wrongs.)

and some snippets from the fic, all of which are me wade objectifying logan. technically spoilers but also what else did anyone expect

[thehypnone]

Symbol on the Surface Chapter 1

WC: 1,4k

Relationship: SwissAlps

Tags: Transmasc Swiss, Early Pregnancy Symptoms, Fluff, Weight Talk, Brief Mentions of Vomiting

Soon after setting out for the second leg of the tour, Swiss starts feeling weird. His symptoms only make one thing come to mind, but, surely, he’s not pregnant… Right?

Notes: Here it is! Tysm to @jimothybarnes for beta reading :3

Read chapter 1 under the cut or on AO3.

Swiss didn’t rest well between tour legs, he must admit.

There was a lot of things to do; helping Mountain in the greenhouses and gardens, catching up with Aether and Sunshine, taking care of all the gear. He could have planned it all better, because before he realized he was waking up at three in the morning to head to the airport again.

Still, it doesn’t explain the way he’s been feeling lately.

Maybe he’s getting old? Maybe it’s time for him to retire, too? It’s all so weird, Swiss starts to actually worry about his health, but as long as he’s having fun on stage every night he won’t mention it to anyone. Even Mountain—at least not directly.

“Mounty…” he asks, walking into the back lounge in the tour bus where Mountain is occupying a couch, and it breaks off into a yawn, “have I gained weight?”

“Hmm, maybe a little bit,” the earth ghoul admits after cocking his head to the side to assess. “Is that bad?”

“No, I don’t know, just–unusual on tour, no?” Swiss stretches and looks down at his stomach with furrowed brows. 

“Hm, yeah, usually we gain weight off tour and lose it on the road,” Mountain admits, waving his mate over to join him on the couch. Swiss is happy to oblige. “Still, I wouldn’t worry much about it. And you know I love your tummy.”

“Mhm,” he hums in acknowledgement and snuggles into Mountain’s chest the moment he lays down next to him. The fact that he definitely has gained weight and is actively gaining more and more isn’t as alarming as other…things.

Swiss has been feeling really fatigued, most of all. He’s not really tired—he can’t sleep when he tries and even if he manages a solid eight hours, he wakes up without improvement. It’s really annoying, if you ask him. Another thing that’s annoying is how his nipples started hurting. He loves having them played with, but—for some reason—they’ve been too sore to even touch for the past few days.

But the absolute worst are the mornings.

It’s hard to hide getting sick every other day from a bus full of demons, but somehow Swiss has been managing well enough. The first time he thought it was the croissant of a questionable freshness that he ate at the venue they played at the night before. The second time he thought it was a suspicious looking hotdog from a shady food truck. The third time–and so on, but then the multi ghoul realized he’s been sick more that single week than his entire life Topside.

“Sleepy, my heart?” Mountain asks and Swiss will not admit it snapped him out of an already half-asleep state.

“A little,” he mumbles. Like a liar—there’s a tiny wet spot on the earth ghoul’s collar from Swiss’ drool.

“Just a little?” Mountain teases with a small smile, not believing a word.

“Only a’little,” Swiss sighs and absolutely does not chirp in the sleepiest possible manner. His mate can barely keep himself from audibly cooing over him at that.

The earth ghoul starts a purr deep in his chest and holds Swiss just a little tighter against him, surrounding them in silence for a moment. When Mountain goes to move again and get them more comfortable on the not-so-comfortable sofa, a rumbly snore escapes Swiss.

“Only a little,” Mountain giggles quietly to himself. He picks his mate up and walks over to their bunk to lovingly shove him inside and climb after him. Swiss sleeps like a dead man so the earth ghoul doesn’t worry about waking him up as he adjusts his limbs to his liking and ends up spooning him.

It’s Mountain’s turn to hide his face in the crook of his mate’s neck, inhaling his sweet scent deeply. It’s ever sweeter than usual, the earth ghoul notes as he drifts off to sleep, too.

When he wakes up, his arms are empty.

Mountain is always groggy for the first…hour after waking, so he just grumbles something under his breath and falls out of the bunk to go hunting for his lost mate. His nose and instincts take him to the bathroom and he’s knocking on its thin doors before he realizes he’s leaning against it.

“Swiss? Y’alright?” he mumbles.

“Fuck–” Mountain hears his mate swearing quietly, “yeah, just had to piss, I’ll be out in a sec.”

Swiss doesn’t sound convincing in the slightest, but the earth ghoul is way too sleepy to notice. He shrugs and gets back to their bunk on autopilot to wait for Swiss to return. He does, after a few moments, and tries his very best to seem just…fine.

He’s not.

Only one thing comes to Swiss’ mind when he puts all his symptoms together and considers the possibilities, but…it is not a possibility.

Is it?

Swiss’ ears perk up at the sound of the tour bus’ door opening and then shutting again. He sniffs the air and it confirms his suspicion—Mountain is back. The pack was craving pizza and he drew the shortest straw; he had to go out while it’s absolutely pouring rain.

The multi ghoul can hear Mountain all but dropping the stack of pizza boxes on the kitchenette counter and shaking the rainwater off of him like a dog—as he usually does. Swiss hopes no one’s in the striking distance.

He makes his way over from his bunk to the front of the bus with a grin and open arms, wanting a hug from Mountain as much as he wants that pizza he brought.

“Hi, darling!” the earth ghoul greets him when he sees him approaching. “Your favorite is on the top, help yourself.”

“I love you so fucking much,” Swiss sighs and hugs his mate with one arms; using the other to get to his pizza. Mountain laughs and helps him with the slightly stubborn box. Finally it opens; the multi ghoul rips away a slice and starts munching. He goes to sit on the couch and waits for his mate to join him as the rest of the ghouls filter in.

Mountain shucks off his wet pants and something falls from under his shirt.

“Oh, I nearly forgot,” he chuckles, walks over to Swiss and hands him the item. “Here, I saw it on my way back and thought you'd like it.”

It’s fluffy and black and white and–

“You…you got me a plushie?”

“That I did, do you like it?” Mountain sends him a sweet little smile. It’s a small panda bear, incredibly soft and absolutely adorable with its big eyes. Mountain watches as Swiss squeezes its body and notices just a bit too late that his bottom lip is wobbling and there’s tears in his eyes. “Hey, what–are you okay? Is there something wrong with it, do you not want it?”

“NO! No, it's–it’s good tears, I love it! I love it so much, thank y–you.”

“Oh, my heart,” Mountain sighs and brings an arm around the other to pull him into his chest. Truth be told he’s a little worried—while Swiss does cry from time to time, it’s not particularly often or over small things such as…a plushie—but he intends to blame it on his post-ritual exhaustion and whatever it is that’s been bugging him lately, “you're welcome.”

Swiss snuggles himself tightly into Mountain’s side and hides his face in the plushie. The earth ghoul looks down at him with his eyebrows furrowed and catches Dewdrop waving at him from the other side of the room.

“Is he good?” the fire ghoul mouths inaudibly and the rest of their pack have equally questioning looks on their faces.

“Not sure,” Mountain mouths back. He turns back to his mate as Swiss’ whole body begins to vibrate with the intensity of his purring. The earth ghoul leans down to whisper into his ear.

“Hey,” he pokes his nose, “I love you.”

Swiss can’t help but chirp happily before kicking the volume of his adorable purr up a notch. “I love you, too…”

He’s still hungry, though, so he goes back to devouring his pizza after a second. Mountain tries not to be offended by how the pizza makes Swiss’ purring stronger and louder than cuddling up to him.

Taglist: @arkeusruin @skele-bunny @everybodyshusband @ratsummer @jazz-bazz @mac-and-thefox

[phyx-m]

Beneath The Silk | True form Sukuna x Reader

🔗 Masterlist

Chapter 11: The Tragedy Of Want And Need

Content warning: smut, oral sex, fingering, angst, Sukuna POV at the beginning

🔗 Songs for this chapter:

The Wretched (Remix) - Nine Inch Nails Pleasant Smell -12 Rounds Want - Recoil

Chapter 10 | Chapter 12

Five years ago…

“Master, we will open the doors now.”

The King of Curses barely acknowledges his most loyal subordinate standing beside him, let alone their words. He is too preoccupied with his thoughts about today—a day he both despises and relishes.

With four arms supporting his formidable body, he sinks deeper into the throne, bracing himself for the monotony of the hours ahead.

The procession of miserable creatures about to crawl through the shrine’s doors, clutching their offerings, will be tiresome. All their pleading, the begging, the crying. All the shit, piss and vomit on the floor. Disgusting.

Yet, it’s the power that accompanies this spectacle that he truly savours.

Sukuna casts a wordless glance at Uraume, who nods in understanding. The doors slide open, and the wretched crowd spills inside.

It’s a wonder he has the restraint not to cut them all down instantly. He considers it, feeling the urge pulling within him. It would be so easy to mutilate every single one of them with a thoughtless wave of his hand.

Subconsciously, he rubs the pad of his thumb against his index and middle fingers on his upper right hand until he allows them to extend.

But then she steps into view.

No one accompanies her. She is alone and filthy.

An ill-fitting robe clings to her frail frame, and her long midnight black hair is slightly tangled. Still, with a bath and a good scrubbing, the bitch might look halfway decent. As she pushes through the crowd and reaches the base of the dais, she manages to stand her ground in his presence.

Interesting.

“My Lord.” She bows and exhales a slow, shuddering breath.

Sukuna taps one of the armrests, taking her in with vague interest.

“What do you have for me?” he inquires, his voice a low rumble. 

She raises her head, her eyes dark and murky, like thick, cloying mud.

“Myself.”

“Yourself,” Sukuna echoes, tilting up his chin.

“Yes,” she continues, her voice steady but soft. “I wish to serve you here, and if my Lord desires my body, he is free to have it.”

A flicker of mild revulsion crosses Sukuna’s face. The yawning need that cracked open inside of him two years ago is insatiable—a want that no amount of physical pleasure, whether from a woman’s cunt, his own hand, or the act of breaking someone’s body, can satisfy. But if he is to retain any semblance of control, he needs an outlet.

“Does the woman proposing to become my personal whore have a name?” he asks, leaning forward with a cruel smile cracking across his face.

She lifts her chin.

“Sayuri, my Lord,” she responds, then bows again in deference.

At least she has sense.

Sukuna glances at Uraume.

“Have her cleaned up and fed,” he commands, gesturing towards the dirt-stained woman. “Then send her to my chambers tonight.”

“Yes, Master.” Uraume moves toward the woman and guides her back through the crush and out of the central hall.

From just one look, Sukuna knows that Sayuri’s body would never truly satisfy him. She can try, but ultimately she will fail.

* * * * *

Present day, moments ago…

There are three things you know with absolute certainty.

First, you have a sister you love and would risk anything for. Second, in your father's eyes, you are nothing but a tool for his use. And third, Ryomen Sukuna is a monster—yet he just protected you.

The latter doesn’t sit well with you.

Even as you remain in the gloom of the central hall, with the heavy smell of copper in the air, Ren’s lips move in a blur. Yet, her words are lost to the daze you are trapped under.

He could have allowed that polearm to pierce and rip you apart. But he chose not to.

Why?

You watch as a horde of shrine attendants methodically remove every manner of broken body from off the floor—decapitated bodies, limbless bodies, bisected bodies, bodies with sunken craters. They carry them away, presumably to ready them for preservation and consumption.

He is a monster, yet he protected yo—

No.

It doesn’t sit well with you. A lot of things are starting to not sit well with you.

Turning to Sayuri, you see that she, too, seems lost. Her eyes, soft and unblinking, paint a blank expression. It’s clear why she’s so affected—she has just witnessed her lover being impaled before her eyes.

And you aren’t a fool. You know a rift has begun to crack between you and her. It began the moment you asked about Sukuna’s desires weeks ago.

As far as you’re concerned, she can have the King of Curses. You don’t want him anyway. That was never part of your plan. There has always been one plan.

"Are you all right, Sayuri?" you ask gently.

Her deep brown eyes meet yours. It takes some searching from her to you, but finally, she nods.

"Yes," she replies. "Thank you." Her voice is so small and fragile that it makes your stomach ache. 

What you will eventually do to Sukuna will destroy her.

“My Lady, why don’t you return to your chambers, change into something more comfortable, and rest? Sayuri and I will check on you later.” Ren suggests as she surveys your kimono with a heavy stare. During the attempted assassination, you were thoroughly sprayed in a deluge of Sukuna’s blood, and it’s still warm.

“Are you sure?” you ask, eyes drifting between the two.

They nod. Sayuri is a little more hesitant.

“Okay,” you say, “I’ll see you both shortly.”

You turn and leave, moving through the quiet corridors and back to your chambers.

As you walk, the weight of the past few hours presses down heavily. Despite the adrenaline pounding, rest is all you need right now. Yet, you know it won’t come easily unless you coax it out.

And it’s a damn shame you know exactly how.

Fantasizing about Sukuna from the other night—how he looked, touched, and spoke—while you pleasure yourself will work like a charm.

Cum for me.

His words.

Pressure throbs between your thighs, and it appalls you how easily thoughts of him get you wet.

Wrong, it’s so fucking wrong.

You walk faster. The door to your room comes into view, and you hurry toward it, wanting to slake your growing need. You slide it open with one gloved hand.

“My Lady.”

Your eyes close the moment Uraume’s cool voice slithers down the corridor.

You turn to face them. They stand at the end of the passage, hands clasped within the folds of their kimono, as still as a statue.

“Yes?” you ask, heart still racing.

“Master Sukuna requests your presence, now.”

Your jaw tightens in response until it’s almost painful.

“For what reason?”

“He wishes to share a meal with you.”

* * * * *

Standing at the door to the private room in your soiled kimono, your agitated hands fidget with your charcoal gloves, pinching and pulling the fabric.

You remind yourself not to be nervous. You have done this before. Meals are straightforward. Nothing more, nothing less. Nothing has changed.

So why do you feel so nervous?

You don’t have time to dwell on the thought as Uraume gently slides the door open with a soft click.

Across the room, the King of Curses’ eyes find yours.

Red, red, red—

Breathe.

He glowers from a cushion at the far end of the low table, holding a kiseru between the large fingers of his upper right hand. Behind him, the garden door stands open, allowing the pale mid-afternoon light to spill in, casting his frame in silhouette.

Evidently, he hasn't changed either, still wearing the same blood-soaked kimono. The dark, muted blue fabric is stained with a purplish hue, and the tear where the polearm pierced him reveals a glimpse of his chest.

With obvious reluctance, you stare at it, remaining in the doorway.

“Excuse me, my Lady,” Uraume says, moving around you and inside.

They head to a separate low table, where you spot a tray of various dishes. Curiosity has you surveying them. Rice and vegetables for you, human flesh and organs for him, cooked and cut into small, bite-size pieces.

Unnerved, your eyes drift back to meet four red ones.

Slipping the kiseru into his mouth, Sukuna stares at you unblinking, waiting to see if and when you’ll move from the spot in the corridor, you have so stubbornly rooted yourself in.

He inhales.

Tiny wisps of smoke escape the pipe, and curl upward before disappearing into the damp air behind him.

You take a small step inside.

He exhales a soft, murky cloud, his enormous body relaxing.

Both feet cross the threshold, and a subtle twitch pulls at the left side of his mouth.

You slide the door shut, move toward the cushion set out for you and kneel, knees seeking the plush material. Even with Sukuna sitting across the table, it’s clear he looms over you.

Once settled, a silence descends on the room, broken only by Uraume’s preparations off to the side.

A heartbeat or two later, your husband finally speaks in that low, intimidating voice of his.

“Hungry?”

The word makes your stomach convulse. After Sukuna demanded your presence in the central hall this morning, you hadn’t had the chance to eat.

“Yes,” you murmur, “I’m famished.”

He leans back, giving you a condescending look.

“Famished? How fortunate for you. Uraume has prepared your usual bland meal.” He flicks his lower left hand dismissively toward the food tray.

You pull up a fake smile, only to let it drop immediately.

“Just because I’m not eating something dead doesn’t mean my meal is bland.”

It’s been the longest stretch without eating meat, and you miss it. Desperately. But you refuse to put anything resembling it into your mouth while at the shrine—just in case it’s human.

Sukuna rolls his eyes.

“Tch, idiot,” he grumbles while removing the kiseru from his mouth. He taps the pipe against a small lacquer receiver, depositing the fine ash into a neat pile before placing it on the table.

A breeze rolls through the open garden door as Uraume brings the food over. A mix of pleasant and acrid smells assaults your senses, making you blanch. Sukuna’s meal is placed first, then Uraume glides over to your end of the table, sliding down yours.

“Thank you,” you say.

Looking at the plate, you frown slightly. He’s right. Your food is bland, but you’ll never admit that.

You pick up your chopsticks and glance across the table. Sukuna mirrors your action, holding his own pair in his upper right hand.

The sight is strange. And despite his long, thick fingers, he handles the utensils with surprising delicacy, picking up a piece of tissue with care and dedication. His eyes narrow in strict concentration. It’s as if he’s a savant in the art of devouring human flesh.

Just how long has he been eating like this? Far too long, judging by the wicked look in his eye.

As the meat nears his lips, his gaze shifts to meet yours. He grumbles something wordless at your staring, and you quickly avert your eyes, refocusing on your own meal. You dip your chopsticks into the rice and slot it calmly into your mouth.

At first, the meal commences in heavy silence. There’s just the subtle clattering of ceramics and quiet, calm sounds from outside. But slowly, it’s interrupted by noises from Sukuna’s side of the table. 

Unsettling noises…

Crunching, squishing.

One, two. Two slices of sweet potato.

You resort to counting the vegetables piled on your plate to distract yourself.

Tearing, grinding.

Three medium carrots.

Sucking, slurping.

You shudder.

Five shiitake mushrooms, sliced into—

“Before we were wed,” Sukuna says suddenly between bites. You glance at him, and he continues, “Did you flaunt yourself like you did today, or am I just lucky?”

Apparently, he’s still annoyed that you wore your clan’s kimono.

“I was not flaunting,” you reply defensively. “And to answer your question, no, I did not.”

He slowly chews the meat rolling around inside his closed mouth, then swallows it.

“Then what trivial things occupied your time?”

You eye him skeptically.

“Pardon, my Lord?”

His gaze turns heavy and attentive as he stares down the table at you.

“Tell me what filled your days growing up in the Kasai household,” he says.

You stare at him, eyes darting between his dual visage, the black ink decorating his features, and the rigid line that makes up his mouth. There’s an expression there, one you haven’t seen before, one that confuses you.

Something slides into place.

What if I want to know you?

His earlier words claw their way back.

For some unknown reason, you hide your gaze from his, dropping it low to meet your gloved hands.

He can’t be serious. He can’t.

Discussing your time within the Kasai household is fraught with many dark things. Things that are filled with looming threats, abuse, submission, death.

Life was somewhat easier when your mother was alive, but everything began to unravel when she became pregnant with her third child. As your father eagerly anticipated the arrival of what he hoped would be a son—the next heir to the Kasai clan—the atmosphere grew oppressive. You and your sister were treated more like cattle than daughters—though, you bore the brunt of this dehumanization.

When you finally find the bravery, you lift your eyes again. Sukuna is waiting for an answer.

“My days were normal, quiet, filled with small comforts. Mostly, though, they revolved around duty and expectations.” You offer a flat response, carefully avoiding anything too complex or revealing. You have no intention of exposing your vulnerabilities like the other night.

He arches his eyebrow, and a lopsided smirk rolls up on his face.

It occurs to you that you’ve yet to see a genuine smile. One that isn’t mocking, sadistic or maniacal. You might even think him beautiful.

It’s a shame he’s the fucking devil.

“Are you telling me you weren’t an entitled princess?” he chuckles, loud enough that his mouth opens, flashing teeth.

You sigh, irritation seeping into your breath. He knows the truth and is just toying with you. The bruise your father left on your face the day of your wedding was a clear indication.

“I was not, my Lord,” you say, rolling your chopsticks between your fingers in an effort to distract yourself.

His smirk grows, four eyes narrowing into a sly glint.

“So, I presume you were the dutiful daughter always in the shadow of your more charming sister?”

Honestly, yes, but you didn’t care. Yuna was the more favoured one, the gem of the Kasai clan and for good reason.

“My sister is charming and deserving of the best life has to offer,” you state firmly.

Setting his chopsticks down, Sukuna leans away from the table, his smirk fading. He crosses his four arms over his chest and studies you intently as if troubled.

“And what about you?” He dips his chin in your direction. “The overlooked, perhaps neglected one? Is that your claim?”

His gaze makes you feel like a pitiful sight, stoking the irritation in your gut. You fidget with your chopsticks, his eyes dart, tracking the movement.

“Each of us has a role to play in the family, my Lord. I discovered what mine was a long time ago.”

Sister, protector, and tool—your needs and wants always come last. They always have and always will. Sukuna will never understand that. All he does is consume everything in his path.

A selfish, destructive, calamitous force.

“How sad,” he drawls, smacking his lips and leaning forward again, “it must have been terribly hard for you, growing up in such luxury, even if you had to wait your turn for leftover scraps.”

Your eyes narrow, and you take a deep breath as if the air could sustain the retort caught on your tongue.

“Perhaps, my Lord,” you say, deliberately placing your chopsticks down, “you’d understand if you ever experienced the denial of something you truly wanted, instead of simply taking everything without a second thought.”

Something dark crosses his eyes, like bitterness or something similar to torment. It's an emotion you’d never expect to see but quickly dies as if it was never there.

A heavy pressure fills the room—his energy, which has remained dormant until now, suddenly presses down, squeezing at your lungs. It hurts. Even with the garden door open, the air becomes thick and difficult to breathe.

Your hands curl into fists at your side, seeking reassurance as the tension mounts.

"Be more careful with what you say," he warns, "or I won’t tolerate that pretty mouth of yours for much longer."

You press your lips into a thin line.

Lovely voice. Pretty mouth.

“My Lord,” you breathe, feigning respect with the title, his eyes narrow, “you’ve been quite generous with your compliments today. First, my voice, and now my lips. I can’t wait to hear what else you find worthy of prai—”

A ceramic cup of water is suddenly placed beside your dish.

Sukuna’s energy withdraws, and you suck in a breath.

Uraume, whom you had completely forgotten was in the room, silently moved to your side. This is the second time they seem to intervene, just before you and Sukuna are on the verge of tearing each other apart. Or more so, him tearing you apart.

You inhale deeply through your nose and reach for the cup.

“Thank you,” you murmur, regaining your composure as you lift it to your mouth to take a sip—Uraume bows and steps away. 

From behind the rim, you glimpse Sukuna’s stern gaze, watching you intently before he returns to his meal.

Once again, silence blankets the room. Neither of you speaks. You focus on your food, and he on his.

His chewing isn’t as robust as before, allowing you to sit with your thoughts.

When you finally clean your plate, you set your chopsticks down. You have a question for the King of Curses, but uncertainty lingers if he’ll even answer the damn thing.

You watch him closely.

Sukuna, towering over the table, shifts slightly, his upper body tilting forward to balance his massive frame. He lifts his utensils, picking up the last morsel of pulpy flesh.

“What?” he grunts, not looking at you but clearly aware of your pointed stare. “Spit it out.”

You clear your throat and sit up a little straighter.

“All right,” you begin, your voice wavering shy of hesitation. “The man from earlier today… why did you allow him to live?”

Very carefully, Sukuna pulls his four eyes up.

“Which one?” He slips the meat into his mouth and places the chopsticks down with deliberate care as if the act of eating is a sacred ritual.

“The man with the heavy sacks.”

Sukuna chews lazily. His eyes are half-lidded as he looks at you with apparent boredom.

“There were plenty of men with plenty of heavy sacks.” His tone makes you sigh. It’s dismissive as if the details you’re offering are insignificant.

“The one with the barley,” you clarify, pressing your hands into your lap. “The horse breeder. He mentioned his family. Two children and another on the way.”

Sukuna swallows, his throat bobbing as he considers your words.

“You think that’s why I let him go?” he says, voice edged with a challenge as if he anticipates your next question.

Uraume approaches the table, tray in hand. They begin removing the empty dishes along with Sukuna’s kiseru.

“If not his family—” they take away your dish. “Thank you, Uraume,” you say quickly, striving to keep your composure. “If not his family, then why?”

Sukuna’s eyes harden. He leans back slightly, regarding you.

“If you think I spared him because of his pathetic plea about his family, you’re mistaken.”

“Then why? I don’t understand. Did you just let him go without any reason?” you press, patience wearing thin.

Why did you protect me?

He tilts his head, eyes narrowing.

“Does it matter?”

You hesitate.

“Well, I was curious because—“

“Then remain curious,” he snaps, ending the conversation.

Your mouth twitches.

Fucking hell.

You lower your gaze, biting back any further questions.

Everything falls back into an uncomfortable silence. There’s just the clattering of Uraume gathering the ceramics and the gentle breeze blowing through the garden doo—

“A family and children? Is that something you want from me?”

At Sukuna’s question, your eyes snap up, and you choke on nothing but air.

You stare at each other. His four red orbs are stern. This isn’t a casual inquiry. It’s a genuine question.

All this talk—about your life, your family, and now this—presses down on you.

You panic, palms itching beneath your gloves.

His eyes flare as if impatient.

“Well?” he grinds out.

You open your mouth.

Uraume reaches over to collect your cup, the sleeve of their kimono momentarily creating a welcome barrier between you and the monster. You focus on the white fabric, taking a moment to calm yourself before it pulls away.

Sukuna reappears.

He has changed his posture, now lounging with his upper right elbow propped on his knee and his fist pressed against the side of his face. The bastard seems relaxed as if this conversation doesn’t rattle him in the slightest.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he drawls.

You swallow back the saliva that pools in your mouth.

“I-I haven’t considered it.”

How could you? The question itself felt absurd, given your circumstances. First, you had already accidentally caused the death of your pregnant mother; the thought of holding a life so small and innocent felt inconceivable. Second, the idea of building a family with the King of Curses was something you could never entertain. Lastly, from your perspective, this entire union is a sham, and you’ll be killing him—preferably soon.

“Perfect,” Sukuna says with far too much satisfaction. “Then there’s no need for you to waste your precious thoughts on such matters.”

That wouldn’t be a problem.

“Just to clarify,” you clear your throat, “you have no desire for a family?”

He scoffs sharply, his disdain clear as he wrinkles his broad nose and leers down at you.

“Do I look like someone who’d want a bunch of noisy brats tearing through here?”

You shift on the cushion, slowly dragging your gaze up the length of his body—past the hole in his bloodstained kimono, past his four powerful arms, until you meet his eyes.

“No, my Lord… you don’t.”

“Well, there’s your answer then,” he says harshly.

You let out a frustrated sigh.

Why the hell did he ask you to join him? The man is unbearable, his arrogance grating. You’re sure the only way to end this torment is to escape this interaction.

Your mouth opens, and the words “May I be dismissed, my Lord?” are poised on your tongue. But before you can speak, Uraume, ever the silent attendant, floats to the table and places a lacquered bowl in its center.

Both you and Sukuna drop your eyes to it.

It’s a bowl of fruit. Pears, grapes, figs. Then you see it—a single peach. It stands out, likely because the season is ending, making it a rare treat. It looks perfectly ripe, and its soft pink skin is reminiscent of Sukuna’s hair.

You drag your eyes up to him.

Oh, but the look he’s giving you. Suddenly, you don’t feel like leaving anymore.

His top lip twitches in warning.

“Don’t, you fucking dar—”

You’re already moving before he can finish. With a devious grin, you snatch the peach from the bowl and settle back on the cushion.

He huffs, crossing his upper arms across his chest.

“I thought you learned your lesson the last time you ate one of those.” His gaze is fixed on your hand as you deliberately begin to remove your right glove.

You arch an eyebrow, slowly peeling away the silk and letting it drop carelessly onto the table.

He tenses, eyes darting to Uraume for a moment.

It’s laughable—seeing the King of Curses lose his composure over how you eat a piece of fruit. The last time you pulled this stunt, he forced you to consume human flesh as punishment. But now, there’s nothing left for him to use against you. He’s already devoured it all.

"Hm," you shrug nonchalantly. “I suppose you’ll have to endure it this time, my Lord. ” Your voice is laced with defiance as you bring the fruit to your lips, locking eyes with him in a silent challenge.

Once again, you surprise yourself with your own boldness.

Your lips part, allowing the soft flesh of the peach to press in. You take a slow, sinking bite, closing your eyes as the sweet juice floods your mouth.

Pulling it away, you chew, swallow, then lick your lips. Sensually.

You throw in a soft groan for good measure.

“That tastes divin—”

“Uraume. Get out.”

Sukuna’s abrupt command has your eyes snapping open.

“Yes, Master,” they respond promptly.

“And close the door,” he adds, unable to look away from your mouth as he gestures toward the garden door with two fingers.

Uraume carries the tray of empty dishes and moves to slide the door shut, cutting off the only light in the room. The dim illumination casts Sukuna’s face in muted shadows, making his red eyes glow.

Your heart pounds, knowing the likelihood of what’s about to happen.

You wet your lips.

This time, you’re ready.

This time, you won’t lose yourself in him again. You won’t fall apart or make a fool of yourself. Today, you will end him. And this time, you're going to target his fucking head.

Uraume moves to the door behind you and slides it open. The clatter of ceramics is heard as they exit the room and enter the corridor.

You lay the peach on the table and then calmly remove your second silk glove.

The door begins to slide shut, rustling along the track.

You glance at Sukuna. His gaze is ravenous, never leaving you for a moment.

You swallow.

The door clicks shut, leaving the two of you alone.

You stand, but he’s already on his feet.

You move, but he’s faster.

Four hands grab you aggressively.

One moment, you’re standing. The next, Sukuna slams you down on the low table, back pressing into the wood, the fabric of your skirts and strands of your hair fan out in all directions. The lacquered bowl behind you topples over, clattering to the wooden floor, the fruit scattering everywhere. You draw in a sharp breath as his upper right hand, which had been cradling the back of your head to cushion the impact, slips away and moves to engulf your entire neck.

“That was rude, my dear,” he growls, hovering over you, his massive fingers squeezing your delicate throat, “I don't take kindly to being challenged, least of all, by my wife.”

You let out a small, stuttering breath.

He grins and tilts his head, admiring your docile form pinned beneath his effortless strength.

“However, I must say, there's a certain charm in watching your attempts at defiance,” he says. The smirk in his voice makes you seethe, but you remain calm. There’s no need to struggle. You’ll only exhaust yourself, and you need your strength.

“Thank you, my Lord. I'll keep that in mind for next time,” you deadpan, peeking up at him through your lashes.

Like the demon he is, that irritating grin spreads wider, making his four crimson eyes squint slightly, and his canines flash menacingly.

Smug, arrogant. You hate that look on him. Hate that it stirs something inside you that you wish you could ignore.

You shove it down and tuck it away.

He leans in, and the hand on your neck tightens, forcing you to tilt your chin upward.

“You know, you lied to me earlier,” he says, voice low. He places his lower left hand on your abdomen with deliberate pressure, letting his fingers graze your garment before sliding to the hem of your kimono. Slowly, he tugs at the fabric, pulling it taut against your body. “Claiming you were doing nothing in your room. But we both know that’s far from the truth.”

You try to shift, but the hard surface of the tabletop offers no relief.

“And what do you think I’ve been doing in my room?” you ask quietly.

As if the next words cause him pain, he clenches his jaw so severely that a vein bulges in his neck.

“You’ve been touching that pretty little cunt of yours,” he hisses, leaning closer, so you can see his pupils blown wide. “And I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Oh.

Just a few words send a pulse of want through you.

You’re in trouble.

"But more importantly, do you know how I can tell?" he whispers arrogantly, gathering more of your kimono, along with your undergarments, into his hand. He lifts the fabric to your thighs, your eyes tracking his every move.

“How?” you breathe, feeling the wetness pool between your folds.

“Because you’ve been acting differently since our incident five nights ago.” His tone turns cold, cutting the warmth you felt moments ago. “You’ve been emotional and irrational. It’s quite pathetic.”

His discerning words make your face scrunch up with anger.

Seeing your reaction, an even bigger smirk appears on his lips and he clicks his tongue, shakes his head, as if scolding a disobedient child.

“I bet it bothers you how exposed I’ve made you feel,” he chuckles, gripping your kimono tightly. “Especially since, despite everything, you still want me.”

With that, he roughly pushes all the fabric he’d been gathering up to your hips, exposing your slick cunt. Your breath catches in your throat at the sudden vulnerability.

For a fleeting moment, his eyes drop to take in your throbbing center before looking into your face.

With the same hand gripping your throat, he moves his thumb upward, sliding it across your jaw and gently brushing it along your bottom lip. He then hooks it inside your mouth, pressing firmly.

“Now, go on,” he demands, his orbs like four cold, red stones. “Admit it.”

As your eyes dart across his face, you feel your heart pounding. He stares intently, unwavering, grip tightening at your mouth as he waits for your response.

“Fine,” you mutter around his finger.

He releases his grip, removing his thumb from your mouth and placing it gently against the side of your face. He raises his eyebrow, his expression one of expectant satisfaction. 

You take a deep breath and avert your eyes.

“I’ve been thinking about you… while touching myself.”

He scoffs, the sound catching your gaze again.

“You missed something,” he states. 

You press your lips into a thin line. You understand exactly what he wants you to say but refuse to give in.

“Say it.”

“No.” You shake your head.

You’re not ready to admit, let alone confess, that you want him, not even to yourself. 

He pulls his hand away from your neck and stands up to his full, massive height.

“Fine,” he sneers, looking down at you half-naked on the table. “If you won’t tell me, then your body will.”

Immediately, his upper pair of hands reach down to grasp your ankles and yank them up so your bare legs extend straight into the air. A blush blooms across your cheeks as you feel a cool draft against your heated skin while he moves you.

Holding your ankles firmly, Sukuna uses his lower hands to slowly loosen the obi at his waist. He lets it slide off before unfastening his ruined kimono's interior ties. He carefully adjusts your ankles between his hands to peel the fabric away, letting it pool around his feet.

Now clad only in his dark grey hakama, his chest is marked with splotches of dried blood from the attempted assassination.

Seeing it, the same question resurfaces.

Why did you protect me?

You want to ask, but before you can, the maw on his torso opens with a deep rumble, its tongue slipping out. You watch it for a moment before Sukuna steps closer and, without warning, drops to his knees.

It startles you to see him like this, kneeling before you.

His upper hands grip your thighs, pulling you closer. Quickly, he hoists both your legs up, so your calves rest on his upper left shoulder, leaving your backside teetering precariously at the edge of the table. He bends down, leans forward, and presses the maw’s tongue against your glistening folds. You gasp at the sensation of the firm, wet muscle contacting your skin.

He holds it there, unmoving, his eyes locked on you.

Anticipation and vulnerability simmer in the narrow space between your bodies.

A heartbeat later, something dark touches his features.

“Fuck yourself on it,” he commands, voice deep. Cruel even. “Show me how much I’ve tainted you.”

Your breathing stops at the harsh demand. It fills you with repulsion. Yet, deep down, a sick desire has taken root.

Even if it’s wrong, you want this.

You hesitate for a moment, nerves getting the better of you. But, with a shaky breath, you lift your hips and push them forward. The tip of the large muscle brushes past your labia, pressing inside your cunt and massaging your inner walls. 

The pressure and pleasure are immediate.

A sound caught between a desperate gasp and a whine escapes your throat, and Sukuna wraps his upper left arm around your trembling thighs. The muscles of his forearm press firmly into your soft skin, grounding you with an unsettling feel of stability.

With your arms firmly gripping the table, you brace yourself and begin to move. Your initial motions are clumsy, but with Sukuna's shoulder as leverage, you sway your hips in a sensual rhythm. And it doesn't take long for the slickness between your thighs to increase, allowing the tongue to slide in and out of you effortlessly.

“Ahh,” you breathe as it fills and stretches you, it’s saliva falling directly onto your cunt.

You increase the pace, body moving with urgency, hips bouncing in tiny spurts. You pant and peer up into Sukuna’s face. He doesn’t return your gaze, just ignores you, keeping it lowered to the apex of your thighs instead.

Five nights ago, his eyes never left your expressions, unable to look away. Now, it's as if you no longer exist, barely acknowledging your presence.

That's fine. You don’t need this to be more than what it is.

Backwards then—

You slam your hips forward, hard, grinding them into him. The extra pressure has your brows knitting together, your mouth dropping open, and a guttural moan pouring out.

In response to your desperation, Sukuna tenses. He’s struggling to control his emotions. And despite all his efforts, his mouth twists into a snarl, exposing his teeth.

"Good girl, just like that," he hisses, his voice strained as he fights to suppress a groan that escapes as a ragged grunt.

He continues to do nothing but hold your legs against his body, his grip firm, tight. His orbs roam over your writhing form. His lower eyes follow the rhythm of your bouncing hips, the way your needy cunt fucks the maw’s tongue over and over, creating sounds that become thicker, wetter. His upper eyes still avoid looking into your face, but gradually, they lift, locking onto your pleading gaze.

A moment of unbreakable eye contact passes between you, and soon, all four of his red eyes are heavy-lidded. Yet, he remains emotionless, even as his body betrays him.

It suddenly becomes clear that the King of Curses is warring with himself. His duality is a struggle, like two opposing storms.

And perhaps, it’s something you can exploit.

You grind your hips harder, pressing the muscle deeper just to feel it swirl inside you. Sukuna’s upper right hand moves from his side, sliding it down along your left leg. The pads of his fingers dig into your heated skin before he slides it back up. The brief touch has you pulling your hips back, withdrawing the muscle before roughly pushing it back into your squelching heat.

“Fuck!” A cry rips from your throat.

“Yes,” he rasps, teeth flashing as a deep growl rumbles in his chest at hearing your sweet cries.

You shut your eyes, throw back your head and allow it to rest against the table. Hip’s undulating faster. Throat tossing out short pleas and curses.

Your frenzied actions cause the mixed wetness to trail down the soft curve of your ass, collecting in slow drips that splatter onto the table.

Hearing it, Sukuna’s grip tightens painfully. He’s still trying to hold back.

Peeking your eyes open, you see that dangerous crease split between his mask and eyebrow, spilling into a mixture of desire and anger. 

Finally, the King of Curses moves.

Chest rising and falling, he brings his upper body forward, matching your thrusts, pushing the tongue inside your soaking pussy until it stings with pleasure. 

As your skin presses against his, you feel the warmth between you intensify, causing sweat to form where your bodies touch. The dried, rust-coloured blood on his chest deepens in hue as the heat builds.

The edge of your mind goes blank, and words you wish had stayed unspoken start to tumble out.

“More,” you quietly moan.

His lip twitches as he pushes forward aggressively.

“You want more?” he growls.

No.

“Yes.” You nod

I do.

Some invisible restraint snaps inside him.

“Then I’ll give you fucking more,” he hisses, withdrawing the maw’s tongue from you, the loss of it making you inhale sharply.

As he rises to full height, you quickly sit up on your elbows in confusion. And there, at that angle, you see them, the rigid outline of his cocks. It’s massive.

He fixates on your wet folds as his lower hands move to the ties of his hakama, tugging on the knot and loosening them.

Your heart races. You aren't prepared for this.

Catching the garment at the top, he begins to drag it down, revealing a dusting of dark hair that starts at his lower abdomen and trails downward.

You sit up fully, panicking.

“Wait!”

He stops.

“What?” he snaps.

“I’m… I’m not ready.”

“Oh, you’re not ready,” he mocks, clicking his tongue.

You nod slowly.

He stares at you for several heartbeats, his hands still resting on his hakama.

Kill him.

Your voice in your head. A reminder.

“I-I want your head between my thighs.” Your tone is only slightly steady.

Keeping your eyes on him, you begin to lean back. Sukuna watches, his gaze hunting you as you lower yourself onto the table again.

“Please,” you whisper, spreading open your thighs. His nostrils flare as you snake your hand down to your cunt to spread your wet folds for him. “I want your tongue on me. I need you to taste me.”

Pretending or not. You desire this, which is a dangerous thing.

“I want more than a fucking taste,” he growls, retying his hakama with a frustrated tug.

Lowering himself back to his knees, the thick fingers of his lower hands slide under your ass, while his upper hands hook behind your knees. Your breath is brought to a halt when he forces your legs up, pinning your thighs flush with your abdomen, exposing you. He curves over your body, the muscles on his shoulders and abdomen rippling like a predator. Your core aches at the sight before you as he lowers his face down to your thighs, his warm breath rolling across your skin.

So close. You tremble.

Sukuna looks up. There's that dark hunger again.

“I will get that confession out of you. One way or another,” he vows, inhaling deeply the scent of your arousal. A deep purr rumbles from his chest as he licks his lips, his tattooed tongue darting out teasingly.

Leaning down, he brushes the flat of the muscle along your swollen pussy lips with a back-and-forth motion. The sensation is maddening as he teases your core, denying what you want. Your mind turns dizzy as you watch him continuing this torment. 

His tongue glides up and down, repeating the action once, twice, and then a third time.

Your impatience grows unbearable. You want to fall back, to surrender to the desire, to feel him devour you with the same intensity as when he first laid eyes on you at the wedding ceremony.

“Please,” you breathe out.

Sukuna's eyes dart upward to stare at your mouth, drinking in your desperate plea with amusement. He leans in for a fourth lick, tracing a clear path up the center of your pulsating heat before pulling away, relishing in the torture he is inflicting upon you.

You shift on your back, releasing a frustrated exhale, and he hears you.

With a firm clasp on the back of your thighs, he forces your hips to rise, exposing your wetness to him. And then, that’s when he plunges his tongue between your folds, pushing past your soaking entrance.

Your back arches, his hands pull you closer to his hungry mouth, and both of you groan together.

Loudly. Unhinged. Strangled almost.

It’s better than the feel of his stomach maw. It’s better than anything you’ve felt.

Immediately, he seals his mouth against your cunt. The muscles in his jaw flex with each lick, and suck, trying to swallow you whole. Every swipe of his tongue is more frantic than the last, and you meet him stroke for stroke, undulating as best you can under touch.

"Yes!" you squeal, hands flying up to clutch your knees.

You're going to hell for this.

On a low growl, Sukuna's four hands grip you tightly, anchoring you close while pressing you firmly against the table. The small room fills with slick, sloppy noises, and your panting, harsh and unrestrained, spills out, filling the space.

As if entranced, his brow knits together, and his eyes fall shut just to focus on you. He’s so lost in the moment that he blinds himself to what's coming next.

Focus.

Inhale.

Panting and keeping your eyes on his face, you slowly slide your right hand from your knee.

Hesitant at first, you gently dip your fingers into his pink hair. The strands are soft under your touch. You can feel the texture and the movement as they tickle and dance against your fingers.

You take a moment to admire the sight. To admire him. The way his head rises and falls against your trembling thighs, how he takes starving mouthfuls of you, how you’ve never seen him like this. Almost reverent. Worshiping something other than himself. It's a shame, but at least he will die indulging in two things he enjoys: eating and sex.

Exhale.

You lay your right hand flat against the top of his massive head, your hand looking tiny in comparison. You hold it there for a moment before bringing your left hand to join it.

Though unsure why, your left hand moves, your thumb tracing gentle patterns along his hairline. It’s as if you’re trying to soothe him. Offering a silent apology for what you’re about to do.

Perhaps, one day, when you die and end up in hell, you’ll find him there. Maybe then, things could be different.

As you continue these soft, lingering strokes, you let your hand gently fall to rest against the jutting surface of his mask.

Sukuna’s upper eyes snap open, shooting to your face, his mouth coming to an abrupt stop against your skin.

Shit.

It seems your gentle touch was not appreciated.

You quickly retract your left hand from the right side of his face, weaving it back into his hair.

“Keep going,” you urge softly, dipping your chin downward.

He doesn’t. Instead, he gives you a threatening glare that makes you nervous.

Not knowing what else to do, you lift your hips and grind them against his mouth, letting your slick folds drag across his lips, leaving a glistening path in its wake.

He groans in pleasure and licks his mouth, tasting it before shutting his eyes and diving back into your pussy, drowning himself again. You let out a gasp as his tongue flattens against your skin, followed by the graze of his teeth along your slit. His lower hands begin to roam, fingers exploring your curves. As the right hand ventures towards your crease, you feel a warm wetness as the mouth on his palm opens and begins to lick and probe at your tight entrance.

"Sukuna!" you protest with a sharp intake, hips jerking upwards.

A deep, sadistic laugh reverberates against you.

“Shy?” he mocks before taunting you with another lick at your asshole.

Your brow furrows, lips pinched tight.

“Do not do that agai—ah!”

The tip of his tongue finds its way to your clit, which has you breathing raggedly. Moving his lower right hand away from your ass, he pushes it roughly against your cunt. Caressing you for a moment before sliding a finger deep inside.

“Oh, god,” you whine, slamming your hips forward for more pressure, his tongue working your swollen nub and his finger fucking sloppily in and out of you.

Your heart tumbles at how good it feels, even when you know it should be wrong.

Focus.

Hands bunching in his hair for purchase, you concentrate.

Sukuna twists his finger deeper, making you clench, making you arch cleanly off the table.

Focus…

“Please,” you moan, knotting and tugging at his hair.

His tongue curls and presses around your sensitive nub.

“Please, what?” he mumbles.

Damnit, focus.

“More,” you beg, “I want more.” 

He chuckles.

“Admit that you want me, princess, and I’ll give you everything.” He grins into your cunt, the damp heat of his breath coasting over your flesh.

You say nothing.

Fire goes straight to your belly as he swipes his tongue meanly across your clit. You cry out, pushing forward against his mouth, eyes rolling back, mind emptying.

“Sukuna… I…” you breathe, faltering for any words.

Focus!

“Say it,” he urges, licking and sucking your sex, then adding a second torturous finger to pump inside you.

“I-I want…”

Kill him!

Your eyes refocus.

You take one last look at his face, carving every detail into you.

You have to do this.

Sifting inside yourself, you reach for your gift. Hands trembling, you wrangle it and press your fingertips to his skull.

At the touch, his eyes find yours.

Do it!

Then, finally, you—

“Admit it!” he growls.

You hesitate.

“If my Lady isn’t in her chambers, perhaps she’s eating in here?”

“Goddammit! I want yo—” 

The door to the corridor slides open.

Your confession dies.

Sukuna’s eyes snap up. Your head whips back.

From your upside-down view, Sayuri and Ren stand in the doorway.

No.

“Get. The fuck. Out,” Sukuna says loudly, mouth pressed to your core.

Neither attendant moves. Both stand frozen.

You meet Sayuri’s darkening brown eyes—the pain and anger you see there claims your arousal. You feel sick.

“Leave!” Sukuna snarls, “Before I kill both of you.”

Ren hastily slides the door shut.

You blink, then tilt your head back. Sukuna resumes his feasting.

“Stop.” Your voice holds a pathetic warning.

He doesn’t. He’s too enthralled. Too busy with his tongue, placing messy licks on your pussy, while his fingers slide inside you.

“Sukuna. Please,” you shudder, rising to your elbows.

He doesn’t acknowledge you.

“Stop!” You press your palms into his forehead, attempting to push him away. “Get off me!”

Reluctantly, he withdraws all four hands from you and steps back with a huff, wiping the juices from his face with the back of his hand. He then rises to his full height.

The blood slowly returns to your limbs.

You plant your feet on the floor, stand with a slight sway, adjust your kimono, grab your silk gloves, and move around the table, quickly heading for the door.

A large hand clamps around your wrist, halting your escape.

"Don’t you dare walk away from me.” Sukuna’s voice is as tight as his grip.

There's conflict in his tone, an emotion. An emotion that makes your insides dip.

"I'm going to my chambers." You try to wrench free, refusing to look at him.

He reels you closer, grip tightening as he leans in. His face before yours, his red orbs burning so close. And yet, so far away.

"I didn’t give you permission to leave," he spits.

"That doesn’t concern me.”

His gaze thins and his voice drops, turning cold.

"Just because I managed to drag an orgasm from your cunt once doesn't mean you have me wrapped around your finger," he snarls. You recoil. "Remember your place, wife. Because I own you."

Those last words hit like a force. Splitting your head open. As if your own cruel father had spoken them.

A poisonous rage has your mouth trembling.

Leave. You need to go.

Your thoughts spiral as you continue to struggle in his hold. When he refuses to relent, you resort to the one thing that might make him release you. Exploit the one thing that you’ve unearthed.

You lift your chin.

"You protected me today. Why?" you demand.

Sukuna’s grip burns, but he remains silent. Your hands curl into fists and his features distort, falling into anger.

"Answer me! Why? Why, did you protec—"

"Get out!” he yells, releasing you with a harsh shove.

You stumble back.

The scoff that falls from your lips has him stepping forward. You step back. You've pushed the monster too far.

With a blank expression, you bow your head, rise, take one last look at his face, recarving every bitter detail into you, and turn away.

* * * * *

For the second time in weeks, the shrine’s ceiling becomes the only view from where you lie on your futon. Looking at it for so long is starting to give you a headache.

You shift onto your side.

But perhaps the headache is from something else.

You squeeze your eyes shut to fight the throbbing.

Today didn’t unfold the way you imagined it would. You fucked things up—badly.

Hours ago, with Sukuna between your thighs and your hands on his head, for reasons you can’t understand, you couldn’t bring yourself to kill him. You hesitated.

In that moment, he was your weakness. And in that moment after, you might have become his by the way things were left.

You drag your fingers across your eyelids. The fatigue that sits there is heavy. Heavier than usual.

The rift that has opened up between you and him needs to be mended. The sooner, the better, before more time slips away.

Sighing, you roll onto your back and stare at the ceiling again.

You need to get closer to him, even if it’s becoming difficult. Not because you want to, of course, but because you need to.

Sitting up, you carefully run your hands over the fabric of your yukata to smooth it into place. You push off the futon, approach the door, and slide it open.

The corridor is silent. It's become a friend you know all too well now. 

You take one step out.

A cream-coloured robe shudders to your right, flowing in the darkness.

You stiffen in the doorway, catching yourself before moving any further.

It takes a moment, but you make out the faint outline of a woman, their back to you.

Sayuri?

She’s barefoot, feet tapping delicately against the cool wooden floor.

Her long, raven-coloured hair cascades down her back like a fine river of ink, luminous against the pale garment.

Each step she takes is silent, moving with the grace of someone who’s done this walk a thousand times before. And you already know exactly where she’s going—there’s only one other door at the end of this corridor.

She takes her time—one foot in front of the other, like a smooth, practiced dance.

When she reaches the King of Curses’ chamber, she doesn’t hesitate. Her lithe hand extends and knocks three times against the massive wooden door.

Though the sound is soft, it reverberates deep inside you. And… it hurts.

One heartbeat passes.

Then two.

Sayuri waits.

A third.

She waits.

Then, a fourth.

On the fifth, the door slides open, and a pulse vibrates the air as Sukuna appears at the threshold.

You pull yourself further out of view.

Though you’re far away, you can see him cross his four arms, studying his subordinate before him.

She lifts her chin.

He doesn’t move, but Sayuri does.

She walks inside his chamber, turns, and shuts the door behind them.

Without needing to take a second glance, you slide your door shut and disappear into the darkness of your room.

🔗 Chapter 12

[louloulemons-posts]

Pickle

Eddie X fem!hopper!reader

Summary : You and Eddie had been so careful, so how on earth did you end up with a positive pregnancy test?

Word count : 2.9k

Warnings : Teen pregnancy, pregnancy in general, vomiting, talks of abortion, pregnancy fears, birth, probably incorrect medical talk, sweating, brief mentions of sex, minute angst, MAJOR fluff, dad eddie, use of Y/N, use of petnames, not proofread and wrote at 4am.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

You were fucked. Absolutely fucked. It was normal to sometimes have a late period or even miss it, due to stress, you could be anaemic, things like that happened to a lot of people.

But this was something else. After vomiting a few times you decided you’d rather be safe and just check. With a positive test in hand, you almost screamed and said every foul word that came to mind.

What were you going to do? You’d been so safe, how did this even happen. Sitting down on the closed lid of the toilet you sighed. Ultimately you got keep it or get rid of it.

You were 19 years old, you didn’t know what to do. What would people think? What would Eddie, you ever so sweet boyfriend, think? Your dad? Your sister? Oh god you were going to vomit again.

A sharp knock on the door cut that idea short, “Babe, you okay? You’ve been in there a while?” Eddie spoke to you.

“Uh .. Y-yeah, I’ll just be a minute Eds.”

“Okay babe, hurry though, dinners getting cold.”

Shoving the test into a draw, you ran your hands under some cold water, splashing your face. You were pregnant. And now you had to decide what to do.

Walking out into the lounge you found Eddie stretched out comfortably on the sofa, dressed in a wore metallic tee and some sweats. Pizza boxes lay on the table, you thought you’d have a cosy, stay at home date night.

Sitting next to him, you smiled. “Tuck in babe, it’s so good,” he said, taking another slice of pizza. Taking one for you self, you munched happily, that was until you reached a piece of pepperoni.

You heaved and dropped the food, running to the bathroom, slamming the door behind you. “Baby!” Eddie shouted in alarm, getting up quickly, following you. “Hey you okay?” he asked, carefully rubbing your back, and pulling falling strands of hair back.

“Yeah I’m okay. Sorry Eds.”

“It’s okay, let’s get you in to bed.”

“Just let me brush my teeth first,” he hummed and helped you up off the floor, flushing the toilet whilst you put toothpaste on the brush.

Helping you to bed, Eddie couldn’t help but be concerned, you hadn’t been yourself for a few days now. “I’m going to get you some water and a cold compress for you head, you look flushed. Get some pyjamas on okay?”

“Mhm, okay,” you mumbled to him as he left the room. Your body felt heavy and horrible.. You were so annoyed, you’d be looking forward to this pizza all day, and this little parasite just says no I don’t want that. How fucking rude.

A few minutes later you were lay in bed, under a blanket, eyes closed, trying to keep the nausea at bay. “Hey Sweetheart I’m back.” Eddie came and sat next to you, “Drink some of this.” He passed you the glass of water.

Taking a few slow slips, you felt the cold liquid soothe you straight away. “Rest you head baby,” he said, putting the cold compress on your forehead. “How you feeling?”

“Better now.”

“Good I’m glad.”

“I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

“Might be something to do with this,” you opened your eyes, to see the test in his hand.

“Shit Eds.”

“Hm. I’m assuming that’s what you were doing in the bathroom?” You nodded slowly.

“So um … what are you gonna do?” he asked.

“Well it’s up to both of us.”

“Not really. You’ll be carrying it, you have to deal with stuff like this. It’s up to you babe, no matter what you choose I’ll be right here,” he said softly, brushing your hair off the washcloth.

“I don’t know what to do. We’re basically kids ourselves Eds, we haven’t got a home, I’m only in my second year at college, we don’t have money. God Eddie I don’t know what to do. We were so careful!”

“I know Sweetheart, I know. It’s okay. How about we just think about it for a few days? I’ll call a doctor and get an appointment booked okay, we have time. Sound good.”

“Yeah. Thanks Eds.”

“Don’t need to thank me, this is basically my fault,” he chuckled.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Sat in the doctors office, you leg was bouncing, anxiety filling your veins. Eddie squeezed your hand softly, in a comforting manner. “It’ll be okay Sweetheart, no matter what happens. You got this, and I’ve got you.”

“Y/L/N,” you heard a voice call, standing up you saw a woman on the shorter side, a soft smile on her face, dark hair flecked with grey. “If you’d like to come in,” she said, motioning into the room behind her.

Eddie squeezed your hand again, and the pair of you entered. Shutting the door behind her, she began talking, “So you had a positive pregnancy test?”

“Yes, three days ago.”

“Well okay then, it’s very rare to get a false positive, but we will know for sure today. I’m going to have to run some bloods and a urine sample. Find out how far along you are,” she said softly, obviously noticing you weren’t as thrilled as you assumed most women expecting a child are.

“It’s okay to be worried, both of you. You’re young. Once we find out everything we need to know, I’ll give you some leaflets for different things. For if you decide to carry on with the pregnancy, or go down the other path. Either one is fine and completely your choice.”

The pair of you nodded at her, “Okay so I’ll take your bloods first if that’s okay?” You slid off your jacket and rolled up one of your sleeves, soon enough she had what she needed and was passing you a small bottle.

In the bathroom you sighed, this was really happening. You knew you wanted kids, and kids with Eddie for sure. You just didn’t expect it so soon, and she was right, you had other options. But what if you wanted this kid, you knew this child would be loved.

Even if your dad would be royally pissed off for a while, he’d love the kid. You had Wayne, El, all the kids, Joyce, Nancy, Steve, Robin. And most importantly, you had Eddie, you knew this child would be loved by him. By you.

Maybe love was enough.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Lay on a bed with your shirt pulled up just under your breasts. You inhaled sharply as cold gel was put on your growing bump. “Sorry sweetie,” the nurse chuckled.

Soon enough a small image appeared on screen. Your little pickle, or so Eddie had been calling them as that’s been your main craving for the past 20 weeks.

He smiled softly, squeezing your hand, unable to take his eyes off the screen. “Baby’s looking very good. Nice and healthy. Here is their head,” The nurse said, pointing out little parts of your baby.

“So one of my biggest questions for you today is, would you like to find out what you’re having?” she asked. You and Eddie didn’t really mind, you’d loved them no matter what, but you both knew you were too impatient to wait.

“Yes please.”

“Okay then, let’s see,” moving the probe around your bump. “Ah here we are, they’re very compliant,” she complimented, “Most little ones like to hide away at this point, make it difficult for me to find out.”

You and Eddie let out a laugh at that, this whole experience so far has been incredible. Minus the vomiting and feeling tired. Feeling your baby kick for the first time had been surreal.

“Okay so, you’re having a very happy and healthy baby girl. Congratulations.” You looked at Eddie, his eyes glassy, “Our little pickle is a little lady,” his voice broke.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“Eds go, have fun. We both need a night with our friends.”

“Yes I know I know, but you’re just so close to having our pickle. I get worried if you go and pee alone.”

You laughed, “I did realise that.” Running your hands in his curls, you smiled. “We’ll be fine, and if anything happens, I’ll get the girls to call okay?”

“Okay.”

He kissed your bump and then your forehead. “I love you.”

“We love you too.”

Soon enough Eddie had left, and Max, Nancy, Robin and El had appeared. You’d wanted a girly night, kind of like a relaxed baby shower. “I can’t believe I’ll be an auntie soon,” El clapped her hands together.

“You’ll be the best auntie,” you smiled, hand on your very large bump. You were due in a few weeks and boy were you ready. Swollen breast, feet, aching back, stretched skin. You’d forced Eddie to stand and lift your stomach for a good few minutes a few days back just to help your spine.

Your little one had also taken a liking to kicking your bladder. Sitting besides Nancy, you picked at some potato chips, humming at the salty flavour.

“Thank you guys for coming, this feels like the first normal night I’ve had in like … 8 months.”

“Of course, and I brought movies,” Robin said, pulling a selection out of her bag.

“So are you prepared for this little lady making her appearance?” Nancy asked, motioning to your tummy. “I think so. We’ve had the bag packed for like a week, but I don’t think we’ll really know until she’s here.”

“I’m excited. When she’s big enough can I teach her to skate?”

“Course Max, I was hoping you would.” The red head hummed in contentment, pulling a a bowl of popcorn towards you and El.

A lot had changed in the last few months, Hopper and El had moved in with Joyce, leaving the cabin vacant. Bursting into tears when your dad handed you the keys, you blamed it on hormones. It’d be strange living without your dad, sister and Wayne, but they had visited regularly.

The cabin was now your home, you and Eddie painting Els old room a pale purple. A rocking chair, crib, cupboards filled with clothes and toys. Of course she’d spend the first few months in with you and Eddie.

Everyone had been so great, Steve and Jonathan had helped Eddie build the crib. Will painted the walls carefully, making it look beautiful. The other three boys, Mike, Lucas and Dustin had worked together to make a dragon mobile for above their crib.

You’d never felt so much love, Joyce had been around a lot too. Her being one of the few mothers you knew, comforting you when you were stressed and tired and laughing with you when you were happy.

Then there was El, Max, Nancy and Robin. Those girls were your saviours. Constantly keeping you company, making you smile, getting you emergency pickles at 1am.

Your dad surprisingly wasn’t annoyed at all, he was happy for you. He was over the moon, couldn’t wait to be a grandpa. Similarly to Wayne, who of course would also take that title.

And then of course there was your Eddie. He’s been your rock. When you’d cried out of discomfort, or fear or just cried for the sake of crying. When you needed, hugs or massages … or other things …

He’d been perfect. He was always perfect. He was going to be the best dad.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“I’ll be back in a minute ladies, little miss wants me to go to the bathroom again,” you laughed, pushing up from the sofa and waddled to the bathroom.

You couldn’t wait to stop doing that, Eddie teased that you were becoming a duck. Quacking as you walked. Rubbing your stomach softly, you smiled, you couldn’t wait to meet her.

A sharp pain shot through you. “Oh fuck, ow,” you exclaimed. You looked down, that wasn’t pee.

Shit. Your waters had just broke.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“Hello, Harrington residence,” Steve spoke.

“It’s Robin, put Eddie on.”

“Munson it’s for you.”

“Hello?”

“It’s Robin.”

“Hey Robs, what’s up?”

“Okay, so like, don’t panic or anything. Y/Ns gone into labour, Nancys driving her to the hospital right now. So you should go there. Like right now.”

“Shit!”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“Fuck it hurts,” you cried, clinging on to Eddies hand. “I know baby I know. But guess what, soon it’ll be all over, and you’ll be holding our little baby.”

“I don’t think I can do this Eds, ow,” you screamed as another contraction went through you. “You can. I know you can, you are the strongest girl I know. You can do this.”

“Just a few more pushes and she’ll be here,” a doctor spoke. “Hear that Sweetheart, you’re almost there. Just a few more, you squeeze me okay.”

“Okay,” you cried, gritting your teeth as you pushed again. “There we go, one more push and we’ll have her head!”

“Go on Sweetheart, big push,” Eddie said, kissing your sweaty forehead. You screamed in agony as you pushed again. The room went silent, you body felt numb. Soon a loud wail pierced the silence.

You let out a sob, she was here. Your baby girl was here.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

It was 3am and you were sat with your baby in your arms. 7 pounds exactly. Head already coated with her fathers crazy curls. Beautiful eyes.

She was now clean and wrapped up in her jammies and a blanket. Snoozing away happily, having just finished a feed from you.

After being passed for the nurses she settle quickly on your chest, not fussing much after the initial cries when she first arrived. A soft coo here and there.

The room was dark and quiet, you and Eddie just admiring her. “She’s so perfect,” he spoke softly. “Course she is, she’s ours.”

You’d had a few visitors, Eddie didn’t want to overwhelm you. So Grandpa Hop, Grandpa Wayne, Auntie El and Grandma Joyce had been in. All of them unable to stop smiling at the sight of your little family.

“I think I know what we should call her,” you said. “Hm?” Eddie questioned.

“Well you know how you called her pickle?”

“Babe we can’t call her pickle!” he laughed.

You did so too, shushing her as she whined softly at your chest’s movement. “Pepper.”

“Pepper?”

“Like picked peppers.”

“I love it.”

“Our little pickled pepper,” he smiled, kissing both of your heads softly.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

It’d been the first time you’d been away without your baby girl. It was frightening to say the least, but you and Eds were told by your family that you deserved it.

They’d paid for you to go on a weekend trip to Chicago for a getaway. It was great, you and Eddie went exploring and stayed up late. You caught up on sleep and other activities that had been hard to do whilst an inquisitive two year old was around.

You had to admit though you were both buzzing to see her. However, that excitement would have to wait for the morning, as the traffic had made you arrive after her bedtime.

Walking into your fathers home, Eddie called out quietly, “Hello?”

“Hey you two, did you have a nice time?” Joyce smiled. “It’s was great. Sorry we’re later than expected.”

“It’s fine, she’s been golden. You too deserved the break.” Soon enough Hopper appeared, a sleeping girl on his shoulder.

“Hey dad,” you smiled. He leant forward and kissed your cheek, then turned to Eddie to hand your daughter over.

“Eddie,” he smiled at the curly haired boy, whilst your own baby, with his exact hair snuggled into her dads neck. “I’ve missed her so much,” he laughed.

“She’s staying in our bed tonight, we’ve missed out on two days of cuddles,” you said. The older adults laughed, handing your her bag, and stuffed dragon. You were on your way home.

Placing her down in bed she stretched out on the large surface. She spent most nights in her own room, only joining you if she had a nightmare or there was a storm, or if mom and dad really needed a cuddle. It was one of those nights.

“I loved this weekend, but I’m so glad we’re home,” you spoke to Eddie.

“Me too, we should take her with us next time. She’d love the pizza.”

“She would, shockingly,” you thought back to your pregnancy, and how you couldn’t stomach it, but she loved it.

Similarly, even-though she was still your little pickle, she couldn’t even stand the smell of them. Laying down on the bed, Eddie pull her and you onto his chest.

She hummed, “Daddy?”

“It’s okay my love, mommy and daddy are here. Go to sleep.” She sighed, head resting comfortably over Eddies heart. Her curls tickling his nose.

You kissed him softly. “I love you Eds.”

“I love you Sweetheart.”

The three of you drifted off into a deep slumber, what a perfect little trio you were.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Thank you so much for reading! Please leave any requests 🤍

[alcorianight]

I did not realize this got so long, so rambly word vomit under the cut

I do think more attention should be paid to the absolute horror Jason must have felt after coming out of the Lazarus pit like a foot taller and built like a damn fridge.

Like he died at 15, tiny, still small due to malnutrition and then the leading theory is that the Lazarus pit cures that and beefed him up. For one, that's gotta mess with his motor control a ton, especially when you consider that normal growth spurts cause a period of clumsiness (think jarring steps, toe stubbing, knocking your elbow on doorknobs or whatever), so a total body overhaul -Lazarus Edition™ - might be enough to keep him from even walking properly, let alone fight skillfully and gracefully.

Even if you say he got his coordination back from training or comic book science meant the pits didn't fuck that up, being small was probably a major part of his identity. Consider Jason before Bruce. He was tiny, but still resourceful and strong enough to jack tires. But being tiny was useful. Being tiny meant more hiding spaces were available. It meant he was unassuming. It meant people's eyes skipped over him. It meant avoiding attention. It meant safety.

And sure, Jason probably complained about being small when he was Robin. Probably even dreamed of being big as a street kid because being big meant having power, but being big on the streets meant being noticed and he knew that. It was something to dream about when he was older but not what he needed then.

I've also seen people headcanon that Jason is claustrophobic from the coffin, and I kinda vibe with that, and being bigger also screws with that because things feel so much bigger when you're small. If you think about it, elevators and the like probably felt a lot more spacious when you were a kid. So not only has his body been drastically changed without his consent (and I haven't really touched on that here, but also consider how it has to affect Jason Todd (who champions consent and autonomy and personal safety of the little guy) to have experienced nonconsensual body modification first hand like that) but it can actively cause him more mental distress.

And I think, coming out of the pit, the memory of his death still fresh in his mind, and stuck in the League of Assassins, maybe being small would have been comforting. He could still access all the same hiding places he would immediately clock. And while the image of a big man hiding somewhere clearly too small for him might be funny, it's also heart wrenching because he's lost so many safe places in a single moment.

Of course when Jason does go back to Gotham he's learned to use his new body and the fact that it makes him intimidating as hell, but I think there's another negative there as well. Because as Robin he comforted people. No Robin is ever soft but they are all almost definitely better at comforting victims than Batman (maybe not Damian, but he's a baby which is simultaneously more and less comforting) and a big part of that is because they're kids. Kids just aren't as intimidating as giant ass adults and I can imagine that this probably messed with Jason when he first got back to Gotham and tried to talk to the street kids or the working girls because those are groups of people who are going to be suspicious of men built like a goddamn fridge. He can't come up to them like he did as Robin, and I'm sure over time he's won their trust and they find him a symbol of safety, but the first few interactions have to hit hard because it feels like he doesn't belong in a place that's been his first home. That somehow he no longer fits right where he always did before.

I also can't imagine how disconcerting it must be to not recognize your reflection for like every part of yourself. Like, this one time I had makeup done for an event (not my idea) and it was so heavy that I didn't recognize myself and I felt so uncomfortable with that and that was just my face. My hair, my height, my build - all of that was still familiar, comfortable, but can you imagine being unable to recognize even that? And if he avoids mirrors to avoid seeing his reflection, he might not even be able to recognize himself in pictures and videos. (There's a fanfic with this idea and it definitely inspires this post because I honestly never considered this before and I thought it was so well written and such a good point that we don't pay enough attention to. You should totally check it out if you got this far.)

The last point I have for this post has to do with his relationship with Bruce. So typical timeline (I think) for Jason is he dies at 15, crawls out of his grave about 6 months later, is catatonic for 3 years, and then spends a year mentally present training with the League of Assassins on his world tour or whatever. I am fuzzy on the details here but basically from his birthday, Jason can't be older than 19-20 when he comes back to Gotham (I think 19 is the accepted age) but mentally he's 16 and for some fucking reason DC artists like to draw him like he's over 30. THIS IS A PROBLEM! Like this is an extremely fucked up 16 year old kid that should be trapped in a 19 year old's body but instead it's so much worse because (and I've seen someone describe him like this before) he's actually trapped inside the body of a 35 year old divorcee AND THAT IS NOT OKAY! Like even if we're gonna say that the Lazarus pit alters the body to peak physical health that would be like 22 or some shit. Past 30 is not a physical prime. You can be fit for sure at 30 but that doesn't change the fact that your ability to build muscle and heal and whatever else are probably better in your early to mid 20s and hey guess what that's still younger than Dick's accepted age (or maybe about the same (I have stayed up too late writing this to keep proper track of numbers)). But Jason looks older than Dick more often than not (the Gotham Knights game will never be forgiven for whatever the fuck happened to Jay's character design).

Okay sorry for the sidetrack, but Jason looking older is gonna fuck with Bruce because Bruce is gonna have a real hard time seeing his tiny, malnourished, never gonna top 5'4 Jaylad in this giant hulk of a figure, especially when the age is so off. Like imagine you have a kid who goes to college and does a ton of internships or research so you don't really see them for 4 years, you're still gonna expect your kid to look like they're 22-23. If they look like they're 35 you sure as hell are not gonna pinpoint that as your kid. So Bruce sees Jason and it makes sense that he doesn't think that's his kid BECAUSE THAT DOESN'T LOOK LIKE HIS KID! (I'm ignoring the moral differences in this post) So Bruce doesn't see a kid when he looks at Jason but Jason is mentally 16 and, despite everything he says to the contrary, he sees his dad when he looks at Bruce. Jason doesn't see an equal, someone who is just another adult. This is his dad, an authority figure in his life, someone whos opinions and words hold power over him whether he wants them to or not. But Bruce can't see that. Because Bruce doesn't see a kid. He doesn't see his son. He sees an equal and that's tragic because you're always supposed to be your parents' baby. Even when you're 50 with your own family and nearly adult kids, you're still gonna be your parents little baby. Because parents see their kids at all the ages they've ever been and it's the fact that Jason doesn't have someone who looks at him and sees him how he was when he was 2 and 7 and 10 and 13 and 15 when he still feels 16 that makes this so sad. Because no one's been his parent for long enough to really build that and Bruce can't see Robin!Jason in the Jason that came back.

Wow, uh, I'm really sorry to anyone who reads this. This really got away from me and it's super unorganized and I just kinda word vomitted all over this. This was just supposed to be about how his body was different. How did Bruce end up in this?