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tac-the-unseen · 5 months ago

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Could you write slashers with a s/o who’s an artist? You can do with all/any you want but I would specifically like maybe the Sinclairs, Billy Lenz, Brahms and maybe Pinhead?

Slashers x Artist Reader + Pinhead

Micheal Myers:

•Pretends not to care, but he's an artist at heart

•If you sculpt or blind things he will insist on watching you over your shoulders

•Will steal supplies for you whether you ask or not

•if you Draw or paint, it's going on the fridge or wall

•He truly admires your work

Billy loomis & Stu macher:

•Billy and Stu really just lets you do your thing

•Stu suggest glitter no matter the work or meaning

•Billy Suggests You make a lot of gore pieces

•Both of them will go the extra mile to kill models for you, so you have a subject

•Both Jokingly propose to model nude for you

Thomas Hewitt:

•Loves it when you proudly show him your art

•if you draw/paint on paper, He'll build custom frames So he can hang it up

•If you paint on a canvas, He'll make you canvases so you can make more art

•If you sculpt/Make pottery He'll make a display case for your work

•He's very proudly flaunts it to the family

Bubba Sawyer:

•Shows you his Bone art

•Wants to make art with you

•No matter what you do, He wants to join

•Will be as happy as can be if you make crafts with him or use his supply of bones in your art

Bo Sinclair:

•His Brain immediately connects you to Vincent

•He subconsciously starts treating you like his brother, no matter your relationship with him

•When he goes to other town he grabs you and his brother some supplies

•kinda just plops you down with Vincent and expects you to to get along, especially if you sculpt

•That's about as nice as he can get

Vincent Sinclair:

•He's excited to have somebody who understands

•Will silently sit next to you well both of you work on your craft

•Feels oddly comforting to him

•His family has always been connected by art, even though they're not great people. So having you make art with him solidifies your position as family to him

•shows you his technique with wax working, and wants to teach you how to sculpt with wax

Lester Sinclair:

•pt. 3 of familial bond

•because he didn't receive much attention as a kid, He desperately tried to be an artist to gain favor of his mother

•It didn't click with him the way it clicked with Vincent so he was shoved aside for “real artists”

•If you sit down and make art with him, he will cry

•constantly seeking your validation and praise

•holds your art very dear

Billy Lenz:

•Yet another creature looking over your shoulder

•He's fascinated by your ability to create

•You have hands And he has hands, yet your creations are always different than his

•He's a little jealous

•demands you teach him how to be better

•If you already don't know he'll show you how to crochet in return

Brahms Heelshire:

•In All his time locked away He has had plenty to make art

•He focus on the more classical sides of painting and traditional drawing

•He makes stunning portraits, So if you have a different art style it confuses him

•He's lived his life very sheltered so at first he might not even consider it art

•He later learns how much time and care you put into these works and starts to appreciate your dedication

•He also steals some of them to put up in his room

Hannibal Lecter:

•Very excited

•Starts showing off his own private art collection

•Takes it upon himself to teach you “proper technique”

•Gives you random history lessons on your choice of art form

•buys you very expensive supplies

Will Graham:

•Okay dude

•Doesn’t really care

•Just happy that you're happy

•Secretly admires your work when you are away

•Always make sure your work is safe and undamaged

The Lost Boys:

•Marko is immediately grinning ear to ear

•David pretends not to care

•Dwayne silently watches you

•Paul is all up in your personal space while you work

•No matter what you make or how proud of it you are, It's going in the horde pile with all their other treasures

•Paul and Marko asking you to draw them all the time

•If you do it's being hung up on the wall

Pinhead:

•Another artist in his own way

•He prefers body modification and rigging as his art form

•Will creepy watch you work from a distance

•He’ll give you polite criticism from time to time

•Seeing you so focused and dedicated makes him think of all the other past artists he's met

•Decides fairly quickly that you are his favorite

Thanks for reading <3

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coralinnii · 1 year ago

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Can I ask for Vil, Took or Malleus (any of them, or multiple depending on how cool you are with it) when they find their s/O gives them cute handmade gifts? Baked treats, books, paintings and such. I completely understand if you can't get to this, but if you decide to take this up, It'll be really really cool! Thanks and have a great day!

‎‧₊˚✧Made with Love✧˚₊‧

↳ Reader S/O who made him handmade gifts

feat: Vil ❋ Rook ❋ Malleus genre: fluff note: no pronouns used with the reader, established relationships, nicknames were used for readers (spudling, mon tresor, dear, child of man), probably bad grammar and usage of French because of Rook,

To anyone who were wondering for my sudden MIA status…I got sick, like hella sick. I’m not the greatest at taking care of myself and apparently my body decided to teach me a lesson for that by leaving me down for the count for 2 weeks then giving me migraines if I spend even 20 minutes in front of a screen for another week. To be fair, I could have recovered quicker if I actually…rested and took care of myself but hey, lessons were learned.

I literally started this a month ago but now I need to relearn the characters because my brain can’t remember anything, so I’m sorry if it isn’t the greatest T_T

2.7K Followers Writing Event 2023

To say he was suspicious was an understatement. Vil was a man of routine and he could tell when something was amiss as the days went by. Little differences were of no cause of concern, but when his little spudling is just acting too skittish, the blond just couldn’t let it go.

At first, Vil was content with scolding you for the little bad habits you started. He caught you too many times hunching your neck and back, and the eyebags forming under your eyes were too concerning to him to ignore.

He had to physically hold in his gasp however, when you refused to come over to his dorm for a skincare date. He tried to be understanding when you claimed you had too much homework to come over, but he could do without Rook having to point out that he was sulking.

Yes Rook, Vil is very aware he could get early wrinkles.

Frustration turned to concern as Vil was quick to pick up that you were hiding something from him. Occasionally, he could see you quickly hiding something from his sight before smiling.

Insecurity soon struck him as alarming thoughts swirled about his mind. Was he the problem? Or is there a problem but he was too undependable to you to confide in?

Not one to beat around the bush, he approached you.

You were surprised that your lover requested to see you so suddenly. But, you thought the handsome blond sounded uncharacteristically solemn so you agreed, which led to you sitting in the lounge of your dorm/home.

Maybe you misread the tone of his voice, because the man before you certainly didn’t seem solemn. Sitting next to you on the sofa, Vil watched you silently with his arms crossed and a leg over another.

“So, Vil…how was your da-”

“I know you’re hiding something from me, spudling.”

From your flinching and awkward avoidance to meet his eyes, Vil’s suspicions were correct. Upon closer inspection, Vil spotted small cuts littered about the skin of your fingers. His lilac eyes softened somewhat, but he kept his voice stern.

“I admire you for working so hard for yourself,” Vil made it clear to you as his eyes gazed towards the small cuts on your fingers, “But, I hope I’m not someone so incompetent that you can’t rely on me, especially when you’re needlessly hurting yourself so.”

In a smooth motion, Vil raised his manicured hand towards your face, gently grazing your cheek to keep your attention to him. “So spudling, no more secrets…what has gotten you so busy and reckless?”

The gig is up, you supposed. Sighing, you asked for your blond beloved to wait as you quickly rushed to your room. Upon your return, there was something in your hands to which you nervously handed over to your upperclassman.

It was a soft ribbon with a charm attached to its end. The deep purple ribbon was embroidered with what seemed to be golden leaves attached to vines twisting and curling across the length of the ribbon. The charm was of a crown, a cheap trinket that was clearly inspired by the Fairest Queen.

“I know how hard you’ve been working for classes so I made you a ribbon bookmark, something you could use while you study or something.” you explained, a little embarrassed. “But I haven’t been getting the pattern right, so I couldn’t give you until I got it perfect.”

Vil has been gifting you so much, from customized skincare products of his creation to matching outfits that enhanced your beautiful form. But it’s not just fancy clothes and luxurious products. Vil worries for you, takes care of you, and helps you to see the potential in yourself and to strive for it.

He gave you so much, so you wanted to give him something in return. Something thoughtful, something that shows how much you cherish Vil. More than for his looks, more than for his fame.

“This didn’t turn out as well as I wanted, but I’m working hard so I can make a new one and get the embroidery just right,” you assured him as you reached for the bookmark. “So, please be patient with me.”

But, Vil kept your gift out of your reach. He examined your handiwork with such focus, taking note of the effort in every stitch. It was by no means the level of professional, but he could see how you thought about him. From the color of the ribbon and thread to resemble his honorable dorm, to the consideration of his dedication to his studies rather than his looks. Your gift told him that you saw not Vil Schoenheit the actor, but Vil your hardworking boyfriend.

Seeing your nervous expression, Vil chuckled as he finally spoke, the cute bookmark firmly in his grasp. “If this is for me, I believe It’s for me to decide if it’s acceptable.”

“I-I guess?”

“Good, because I’ve decided to keep this.” Closing the gap, Vil placed a kiss upon your face, teasingly close to your lips. With a confident smile, Vil took pleasure with your burning cheeks.

“Thank you for the gift, my cute spudling.”

If it wasn’t already clear to everyone, Rook’s primary love language are words of affirmation. You could sneeze and suddenly he has written a sonnet about how beautiful the cringling of your face was.

I’m only slightly exaggerating.

Rook is by no means afraid to show his admiration for anyone, least of all his beloved. All of his words and actions are all done without an expectation of getting something in return.

But lately, you have become a bit of an enigma to him. You would spend hours upon hours with him, smiling and capturing pictures of the two of you. Other times, you would swiftly leave back to your dorm, excusing it as needing to study but you would vehemently decline his offer to help you.

Don’t get him wrong, watching your concentrated gaze is gorgeous, the way your heartbeat steadies and letting out soft but longer exhales as though you’re making decisions secretly in your mind. Rook couldn’t help but wonder, what is it that captures your attention that has you gazing off away from him?

“Rook, can I visit you today?”

Oh my, it has been a while since you last requested such a thing. Partially because you both knew his Housewarden would have a fit if he wasn’t aware. But eventually, Vil gave you special permission, mostly because Rook would have found a way to either sneak you into his room or he might sneak in the middle of night to see you. Vil knew Rook would never have gotten caught but he’d rather let you stay than have the migraine of a vice-housewarden breaking curfew and ruining his beauty sleep.

“Oui, mon trésor. I would request approval from my Housewarden immediately.” Rook could never deny you of anything, especially if he means you could have more time to admire you in the comfort of his room.

When night fell and the two of you were alone, sitting on the hunter’s bed. You were nervously wringing the handles of the bag in your hand. Doubts filled your head as you wondered if the gift was even slightly capable of living up to your boyfriend’s expectations, regardless of how silly that sounded.

You knew that whatever you would give him, Rook would love and appreciate it with full sincerity. But, that doesn’t mean you weren’t nervous. The gift should be considerate, you thought. Something that shows the love you had for the eccentric blond and his odd… let’s say interests.

You looked to said odd man, who’s piercing green eyes caught your gaze. Rook noticed your nervousness and the mysterious bag but said nothing. Instead, he kindly waited for you as you calmed yourself, soothing you with gentle touches to your knee. The huntsman can be a lot to some, but he’s also patient and so supportive.

Finding your strength, you presented your gift to Rook. Curiously, Rook took what seemed to be a journal from your hands. It was only when he opened the book to see its content was he surprised.

Him. He saw him in a multitude of photographs that decorated the pages of the journal, lined with cute frames and drawings. Some photos were of moments he remembered, such as days where you visited him during his club, cute dates around the town, or simply just moments of serenity between the two of you.

Rook felt his cheeks flush as his eyes caught the little captions written near the photographs, dates and words written in your handwriting.

“My handsome mad scientist” “His dashing profile is so cool” “His warm arms around me ♡”

“I realized the last time I came to your room that you only had photos of other people” you had glimpses of the wall of photos that consist of people he admired the most, you included. “So, I wanted to give you a photo album of what I find beautiful…you.”

Your boyfriend scared you as the young blond suddenly stood up from the bed, eyes sparkling with excitement as he scanned through the pages filled with memories. “Mon tresor, this is absolutely exquisite! To think my beloved has been watching me with such an unwavering, loving gaze fuels a pleasurable delight within me. Oh, très bien!”

But Rook worriedly commented on something notable. “But, there are still pages left unfilled. Were our moments too few and rare to fill the album?”

“It wasn’t that.” you rubbed your hands as you felt the nerves return. “I was hoping that we could fill the last few pages together…like a couple.”

It was then the hunter kneeled before you, his hands reaching out to grasp yours as he looked into your eyes with a special loving gaze only shown to you. You couldn’t tell if you were captured in his devoted gaze or if it was Rook that felt compelled to hold you, to comply with each and every one of your wishes.

“You speak as though I would dare to deny my precious beloved. I’d be honoured to make more memories with you, now and far however long you will have me.”

With constant surveillance from his wards *coughSebekcough*, Malleus’ moments with you were rare but still meaningful. Some nights, Malleus would wander near your dorm, especially when he noticed the lights of your room, signifying you’re there and awake. And like always, you would open your doors for him with a sweet laugh and inviting smile.

But lately, Malleus has seen that your bedroom lights would be dimmed, and that you would take notice of his presence slower than usual. Once or twice would be of no concern to him. But, as it slowly became a habit, he began to worry.

He spoke of his concerns with Lilia, perhaps in the older fae’s experience he came across a similar predicament amongst humans.

Only for the veteran fae to be of no help, instead chuckling in amusement before giving his young dragon a cryptic comment “You will understand soon enough. My, how you are in for a treat~”

Malleus chose not to question further, nor did he question the odd coincidence that you asked him to visit you that very night.

“I don’t suppose there is a hidden agenda to your invitation, dear?” As Malleus made himself comfortable in your guest room, he noticed some changes since his last visit.

Firstly, the furniture were arranged to be more spaced out, although the TV was still quite close. Then, there were almost an absurdly large amount of pillows and blankets, to the point that some have started to pooled onto the floor.

“Hmm, you sound as though I’m being suspicious” you laughed good-naturedly, “But I do have a surprise for tonight.”

Coming from the kitchen, you pulled out a stacked fairly large, cold container. With Malleus’ keen senses, he could pick up a very subtle sweet scent mixed with a chilly sensation, and a familiar delight came to mind.

“Ice-cream?”

You nodded. “Made by yours truly. I asked Lilia if there was a particular flavour you like, but he said you weren’t really picky.”

Unceremoniously, you sat down next to the tall fae before handing him an ice-cream container. “I was trying out different recipes and ideas all week, tweaking it along the way.”

The results of your work appear to be a multitude of flavours with varying degrees of sweetness. From classics such as chocolate and vanilla to more subtle sweet flavours such as coffee and pistachio. Some were swirls of combinations with fruits or nuts, and some were flavours unique to his hometown, which he imagined were hard to procure.

“I may not be able to shower you in riches, or protect you like your knights…” you gave an embarrassed smile and gaze at your silent companion. “But I could at least make you something sweet, just so you could smile even a little.”

Behind your nonchalant smile, you do feel anxiety swirling as you worry your efforts pale in comparison to the luxuries your powerful boyfriend owns. Malleus is a fae of the highest standing and thus, his actions have more impact than the average man or fae.

But…he was your amazing boyfriend nonetheless, who smiled softly back at you.

“Thank you, child of man. Knowing the effort my beloved has done for me alone, I shall cherish this feeling for centuries to come.”

Your cheeks burned slightly over the sincerity, so you quickly diverted the conversation. “W-Well, just giving someone ice-cream would be too boring, so I thought we could spend the night watching bad rom-com movies while we eat. Call it a human custom of sorts.”

“Is it imperative that the movies must be bad?”

You shrugged “Not really, but it usually is.”

Setting the movie up, you returned to the makeshift nest of comfy blankets and pillows with Malleus sitting by you. The confused fae watched as you handed him a tub of handmade ice-cream and a spoon before picking a container for yourself, a strange feeling of intimacy unfamiliar to him…but not an unpleasant one.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines #vil schoenheit #vil shoenheit x reader #vil x reader #rook hunt #twst rook x reader #rook x reader #rook hunt x reader #malleus draconia #malleus x reader

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studentinpursuitofclouds · 5 months ago

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The farmer is a pretty heavy sleeper if even a meteor landing on their farm won't get them up before 6am but what about their spouse? How would they all (sve included if you'd like) react to not only a whole space rock hitting the farm but the farmer reacting with nothin more than a sleepy "oh was probably just a meteor... I'll check that in the mornin."

I had a lot of fun with this scenario, really liked the idea itself. Thank you so much for the ask, and enjoy! 💕

_________________________________________

SDV/SVE bachelors:

Sam said quietly, "Oh, okay," and laid his head back on the pillow, falling asleep again. When morning came, the young guitarist would consider his vague recollection of this conversation a dream. What will be his surprise when he sees an actual meteorite lying not far from their house. "Babe, that could have ended badly..." "No worries, Sammy, but if you want, we'll check it out next time." ...Next time?????

"Did you hear that?!" "Relax, dear, it's just a meteorite..." "Ah, alright... It's a WHAT?!" And the slogan of this Harvey's headcanon: "A meteorite is the best alarm clock! You'll wake up right away!" Although in Farmer's case - they woke up to a fuss made by their worried husband. But you can understand the Pelican Town doctor, too - a bloody piece of cosmic rock fell right into your yard, it's hard to stay calm.

Elliott literally fell out of bed from such a loud sound outside the window, and Farmer continued to snore quietly??? The writer was so confused, he didn't know if he should wake up Farmer or not. "Mmmm... Did'a meteorit fal' again... I'll deal with it tmorrw... 💤" Farmer mumbled, leaving Elliott even more confused. Meteorite? Wha- again? They mean... it's happened before and it's going to happen again?! What is happening?!

"Hon, what the fuck." At first Shane's reaction to Farmer's words wasn't too violent, because he's still sleepy. But after a couple of seconds the meaning of the words reached him, the gyrus in his brain started working and he shrieked: "The coop! Charlie!" The realisation that the animals might have been hit by the meteorite instantly brought Farmer to their feet.

No matter how hard Alex tried - his spouse slept like a dead man, muttering that they would check the source of the noise tomorrow. What do they mean, tomorrow?! They need to check it now! Alex can't just leave it alone, so he goes to check it out, with or without Farmer. Whoa, a real meteorite... Erm, shouldn't they tell Lewis or someone about this?

Meteorite or not, Sebastian remained surprisingly calm. He gave up trying to wake Farmer and went to the window to see what was out there. They were right - it was in fact a meteorite, a real one. And there's light coming from it. So cool. "Sure you don't want to come with me, dear?" Farmer mumbled something incomprehensible in response, and the emo decided to go alone, to look at the cool sky rock. Because why not.

Lance sensed something was wrong before the meteorite touched the ground. Fortunately, the far-sighted gallant adventurer had put up a magical barrier that prevented the space rock from crashing into his and Farmer's house or barns. The meteorite had fallen, all was well. "I take it this phenomenon is not new to you?" He smiled as his spouse mumbled "tomorrow..." in their sleep. Well then, they both can look at the meteorite later.

"Razor!" Magnus jumped up sharply from the bed, casting the spell on automatic. The trajectory of the falling meteorite was reversed, and the celestial stone plummeted into the water, no longer posing a danger to the forest. "Farmer, meteorite." "Mhmm, five more minutes.... I'll look at the meteorite tomorrow...." Magnus wondered how his dearest spouse could even survive as an adventurer with no sense of self-preservation. It's a damn meteorite!

A whole palette of emotions was bubbling up inside Victor, awake from the noise. What was that! A meteorite? A real one! It's probably incredibly hot right now, he shouldn't go near it.... But it's a meteorite! It's so scary, and so interesting! Farmer, don't hide your head under the pillow, but get a flashlight. Victor's taking them out to see the space rock! Well, and make sure everything's okay and no animals are hurt, too.

SDV/SVE bachelorettes:

A meteorite?! A real rock of cosmic origin fell right on the farm? Maru immediately jumps out of bed and wakes up Farmer. It's unclear, however, whether this reaction of hers is simple worry about putting out the fire from the meteorite fall or that the young inventor is thrilled that she and her spouse will see the meteorite up close! Probably both. Either way, Farmer won't sleep well tonight...

"What makes you think it's a meteorite? Maybe it's aliens? Oh, that's so cool! Get up quick or we'll miss the whole thing! And grab a sword, just in case." The force with which Abigail was prancing poor Farmer made them realise at once that their wife was not going to let them finish their beauty sleep. Unlikely aliens in there, but they'd have to check anyway. Ugh...

Poor Penny is in complete shock at how calmly Farmer has reacted to everything. Don't they care what happens to the farm? What if what fell down caused a fire and everything could burn? There's a forest nearby, it would be a huge fire! Penny tearfully begged her sleepy spouse to check it out before it's too late. Farmer had to get up (they hate to see their lovely wife crying).

"Did you hear that, Farmer?" "Yep, meteorite hit again, I'll look tomorrow..." Leah can already see the fire that has travelled from the glowing space rock to the dry summer grass. Oh no, there's going to be a fire now... She wakes Farmer up with one mighty shove and shouts an emergency. And as much as Farmer grumbled over their interrupted sleep - the artist was right. A forest fire is a very dangerous.☝️

The sound of a meteorite falling may not have been able to wake Farmer, but the shriek of terror of their wife Haley sure knocked them out of dreamland. "Shh, Haley, it's only a meteorite..." JUST A METEORITE?! Is Farmer laughing at her? Oh no, they can't go back to the dream realm now - Haley wakes them up again and tells them to look at that fallen meteorite before something else happens. Haley's half asleep herself, but she's scared, so she'll insist on checking it out now.

Before going to bed, Emily read a daily horoscope in a magazine that she would soon "be given a big sign, so make your decision at once." Nowhere, however, did it say that this "sign" was a huge rock from the sky. But at least she made the decision right away, (and the right one) - getting Farmer out if bed, despite their protests, to make sure the falling meteorite didn't destroy anything. No "tomorrow", it had to be now. She hopes no animals were! Her heart couldn't take it...

Claire jumped up in bed, as if scalded by boiling water, at the rattling of window glass and the vibrations throughout the house. Something had fallen on the farm - and that 'something' is very big. She woke and woke her spouse to no avail, who only responded to the terrifying sound with a louder snore. How did they even manage not to wake up from such a noise? And how could they mumbling so calmly about the meteorite?!

Poor Sophia, frightened by a scary sound outside , immediately pressed herself against Farmer, trying to hide. Farmer kissed her gently and told her that it was just a meteorite, that everything was fine and they would protect her. After saying "it's okay" and "I will protect you" the panic inside Sophia was extinguished and she fell asleep again in the arms of her spouse. The meteorite in the morning would definitely be a shock to her (she thought she had dreamed the whole thing).

After that horrible sound, Olivia not only wakes Farmer up, but also gets almost half the town up, making one call to Lewis and claiming that something terrible has happened on her and Farmer's property. Farmer sleepily tried to convince Olivia that a fallen meteorite was no big deal, but she wasn't convinced. How is that - a huge, dangerous rock from outer space - and not dangerous!

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justmeinadaze · 6 months ago

Text

Inescapable: Letters (Steddie X You)

A/N: I give you treat my dear friends. A glimpse into inmate Steddie. I'm going to write a full story but for some reason the idea of them writing back and forth burned into my brain. Think of this as a prequel so to speak.

Enjoy!

Warnings: Older (Early 30s) Prisoner Steddie & Young (Early 20s) Fem college student Y/N, Everything is in letter format. Mentions of smut, some dirty talk, angst (because I'm me), both men were convicted even though they are innocent, near the end we get some glimpses of toxic behavior, Jealous Steddie <3, cliffhanger esc ending.

Word Count: 2918

"You can build a prison of stone and steel, but you merely present the prisoner with a challenge. Any truly determined man will find a way out but love, love is the perfect prison. Inescapable."-- Wilson Fisk (Daredevil)

July 1996

Mr. Munson and Mr. Harrington,

I know you don’t know me but my name is Y/N Y/L/N and I’m a student here at Hawkins University. I’m supposed to be doing a project for my criminal justice class and with your permission I’d like to do it on you.

I’m working towards getting my law degree and so many kids in my class are doing theirs on people like Bundy or Gacy. How does that help teach them? I’ve done research on your case and I feel like you both are innocent. Add in the fact that the judge wanted to make “an example” out of you two… it’s ridiculous.

Neither of you had a prior history of violence and Mr. Harrington, your parents are prominent members of Hawkins! UGH! I just don’t get it.

Sorry. I went off on a bit of a tangent there… I just hate how you both were treated.

If you don’t want me to utilize your case for my class I’ll completely understand. If you don’t respond I’ll take that as a no as well.

Thank you,

--Y/N.

################

July 1996,

Sweetheart,

You have no idea how good it made us feel to have someone reach out to us, let alone agree that we are innocent. Society forgot about us a while ago but thankfully Steve and I have each other.

And now you we hope : ).

We have no problem with you doing your project on our case. What do you need from us? Details I imagine but what else? Are we allowed to know more about you? We know your name is Y/N, you’re a law student, and judging by the intoxicating scent that wafted when we opened your letter you smell really fucking good.

Please feel free to be open with us. We’re nice guys we swear.

-Eddie

Y/N,

I hope Eddie didn’t come off too strong with his letter. I told him we need to be respectful but like he said people kind of forgot about us. It’s nice to feel appreciated.

We have no problem with you using us on your project and you don’t have to tell us anything you don’t want to. I understand that talking to someone in our circumstances can be a bit scary especially for a young lady like you.

Are you only going to be speaking with us or do you need to talk to our families to? My parents gave up on me after I was found guilty so they probably won’t be much help. Eddie’s uncle Wayne Munson is a nice guy. You can tell him we sent you and he’ll answer your questions. We also have some friends people who were around the time we were arrested who can help to.

We look forward to hearing from you,

-Steve

P.S. You can call us Steve and Eddie. We already feel old enough : )

####################

July 1996

Eddie & Steve,

Thank you so much! You have no idea how important this is to me. I don’t just want to do this for my class but I’d like to use this case for my graduation project as well. But we don’t have to think about that now. I barely like to think that far ahead so I use the excuse of that is two years away.

Eddie didn’t come on too strong : ).

I AM a law student and a sophomore at Hawkins U. I’ll be 21 in a few months so I can finally move up to being a bartender at the restaurant I work at. College is expensive but soon it will be worth it. I’m attaching a picture with the letter just so you have an image of who you’re talking to.

Growing up I heard all about you two. Hawkins High used to have your Hellfire Club, Eddie, but they disbanded it a couple of years before I graduated. The parents said they didn’t think it was right for their kids to belong to a club created by someone such as yourself. Since Dustin Henderson wasn’t there to advocate for you guys anymore…

I don’t have to reach out or talk to anyone you don’t want me to. I know most of the people involved in your case aren’t even in Hawkins anymore.

I’m so sorry. It must be hard having everyone you know disappear.

My parents aren’t exactly fans of my chosen profession. My mom hates lawyers since her divorce lawyer wasn’t able to get her more alimony from my father and my dad is cop so enough said hahaha!

I’ve been with my boyfriend for a few months. He’s a film major and keeps begging me to allow him to do an interview with you two. I keep telling him no. You’re people not circus animals.

Let’s start with you two telling me whatever makes you comfortable in regard to your case!

-Y/N

####################

December 1996,

Sweetheart,

Merry Christmas!

Did Wayne give you the presents we bought you? My uncle said it’s important for college girls especially soon to be lawyers to have tape recorders. I’d love to hear if you liked it and if you can use it in your classes.

It’s been a couple of days since you called. I hope everything is alright. We miss the sound of your voice…

Y/N, I know I can come off a bit forward but I hope I didn’t scare you away by talking to you the way I did during our last conversation. I can’t help it, you know? You’re just so gorgeous and you’ve been so good to us that my brain promptly goes into flirtation mode.

Anyway, yeah, I want to hear how your Christmas went and if Derek’s family was good to you.

-Eddie

Honey,

Merry Christmas!

Ed forgot to mention that we did get your gifts and are incredibly thankful for the books. Since I was arrested I’ve opened my mind when it comes to reading and Munson’s fantasy books at least take me away mentally to a different world.

He’s right by the way… you are incredibly beautiful.

Would you be open to seeing us in person?

Just a nice friendly visit where we can talk about your project and get to know you more.

If not we completely understand.

-Steve

##########################

February 1997

Eddie & Steve,

I’m sorry I haven’t come by or answered the phone. After our last visit, I just…

I love Derek but I care about you both so much. When you kissed me We have to keep this professional. Not just because of my boyfriend but because I’m studying to be a lawyer. How would it look if I fell in love started a relationship with inmates I’m working with?

Please understand.

-Y/N

#######################

February 1997

Sweetheart,

We understand but you have to also understand that we’ve never met anyone like you. You’re so kind and beautiful. You listen to what we have to say and actually care about us. I can still feel your lips against mine and nothing in my life has ever tasted as sweet.

Can you still feel me, princess?

For the first time in almost 11 years, I actually have some hope.

Does he make you feel like we do, honey? Your heavy breath against my mouth when I kissed you tells me no. I know we’re trapped here for the next 14 years but, baby, we can still take care of you. We just have to be a bit imaginative with certain things but….

No one has to know, baby, not even Derek.

-Steve & Eddie

#######################

February 1997

Baby,

Fuck, sweetheart, you have no idea how hearing you touch yourself over the phone got us going. If we could have private phones we would have stroked our cocks for you so you could hear how much you turn us on.

I can still hear your heavy pants in my ear while you fucked your fingers.

I’m playing with myself right now at the thought of how tight that young little pussy is. Fuck… picturing those sexy hips slam against me as you ride my dick. Do you like it rough or nice and slow? Delicate, just like you, pretty girl.

Shit. I just came so hard.

Would you let Steve and I fill you up? Make you really ours?

I wish we could fall asleep with you between us. I’d give anything to hold you in my arms and play with your hair.

Can’t wait to see you again, princess.

-Eddie.

############################

April 1997

Honey,

How did your test go for your class? I’m sorry we weren’t more helpful but I’m glad you brought your stuff to show us what you’ve been working on. It makes us so happy to see you working so hard and achieving your dreams. You deserve all the good things in this world.

I’ve been thinking about you since we last saw you. Aren’t you glad now you wore that sexy skirt?

God, I can still smell you on my fingers. I loved feeling you cling to my arm as I thrust them into your tight little cunt. We have to work on silencing those moans a bit more : ).

I keep having dreams about your pretty mouth wrapped around my cock just looking up at me with those big, beautiful eyes while I fuck your throat.

Do you think about us? Tell us all your fantasies, baby.

We love you.

-Steve

#######################

April 1997

Eddie & Steve,

You are such bad boys, you know that? I like it though…

Sometimes when I’m writing to you, Derek will walk by and I feel naughty but giddy. I’m doing something I definitely shouldn’t be doing. When we have sex, I don’t see him anymore.

I just see you two.

I wish I could take care of you the way you do me. I want to feel you both inside of me, stretching me open. I want to choke on Steve’s cock and ride Eddie till I can’t walk. I want to feel you both cum inside me and make me yours.

I love you to…so much…

I hate to ask this after everything but Derek would like to film you guys for his project. I’ll be there to so you won’t be alone with him and I can use the footage when I start working on my graduation project later down the line.

After everything, if you don’t want to I completely understand.

I’ll call you both tomorrow.

-Y/N

##########################

May 1997

Please,

I’m so sorry! The prison said you aren’t allow visits for the next month after what happened and you aren’t taking my calls.

I didn’t know those were the questions he was going to ask you, I swear.

After the stupid bullshit he pulled, I broke up with him and kicked him out of our apartment.

I know you both are innocent and I don’t feel the same way he does.

I love you so much.

-Y/N

################

May 1997,

Don’t break up with him. He’s right. We’re fucking criminals and—

Y/N,

Eddie is still upset but we do believe that you didn’t know he was going to blind side us. We just needed some time to compose ourselves. The questions Derek asked about those kids, Nancy, and then seeing him kissing you when we walked in just fucking… It was too much.

Add in the fact that he made some points, you know?

By the time, we get out of here we’ll be in our late 40’s essentially starting over. It’s going to be so hard for us to get a job and other things like a house or a car. People will always look down on us for something we didn’t do but they believe we did.

You’re going to be this badass attorney with men your age groveling at your high heeled feet to give you the world.

We’re scared about dragging you down with us. You deserve the world, baby girl.

Just give us a bit more time, ok? During this time, I want you to think about if being with us is the life you really want. Really think about it, Y/N.

We love you to… no matter what.

--Steve & Eddie

###########################

August 1997

Eddie & Steve,

I’m sitting in my first class this semester and I am already exhausted. I started my new job at The Hideout and I left at like 3am. I got some good tips though so that will help with tuition. I can also send you guys anything if you need something.

I heard your appeal was denied again.

I’m so sorry.

With cases like yours, it’s so hard to get those pushed through and approved.

I’m thinking about you two every minute. When I crashed, I kept wishing I had your arms around me.

I’ll call you tonight before my shift.

I love you!

-Y/N

########################

August 1997,

Baby,

Yeah, we’re kind of over it now. After so many denials, you just kind of give up trying. It was like that with my dad and his case. Then again he was just a repeat offender and I’m a murderer so.

You didn’t tell us you were working at The Hideout. I used to play my guitar there with my band when I thought I would be a rockstar. I’m not gonna be anything now.

I’m sorry, sweetheart. I guess we’re just a bit low right now.

I wish we could be there with you to. I want to fall asleep to your voice talking to me about everything. I could listen to you talk for hours, babe.

Don’t overwork yourself.

Love you,

--Eddie

Honey,

You never have to worry about sending us anything in here. We make enough money and then Wayne gives Eddie some to get by.

My mom was there at our appeal. It was nice seeing her face again after all this time even though she didn’t talk to me or stick around to meet with me at the prison.

I imagine my father didn’t know she was there.

I agree with Munson, don’t over work yourself.

We miss you.

--Steve

######################

October 1997,

Y/N,

We didn’t mean to scare you, baby, when you came to visit. We just… you were supposed to come visit us last week and you didn’t. You don’t answer when we call.

We get worried.

Please, sweetheart, answer the phone so we can talk.

We love you, pretty girl.

--Eddie

#######################

October 1997,

FUCK YOU!

You don’t get to treat me the way you did when I took time out of my day to come to see you! Steve, you have no right shouting at me and degrading me in front of all your cell block friends. Eddie, you don’t get to grab my wrist and command that I “Lower my voice” when you both are sitting there talking down to me.

The three of us know you weren’t worried about me but fucking jealous I’ve been brushing you off for someone else!

I have shown you both nothing but respect and opened my heart to you from day one!

I’m sorry your both in the situation you are in. I genuinely am but I have given you no reason to think I’d ever hurt you by fucking cheating on you.

I wouldn’t put my career and heart on the line like I have just to fucking throw it away that way.

--Y/N

######################

October 1997

Little girl,

I know you get off on being a bad girl but we swear to God, Y/N. You don’t get to talk to us the way you did during our visit. We understand that you have a busy life but that doesn’t give you the right to not show up or not answer the phone when you say you will.

We may be convicts but we still have feelings.

Telling us to “fuck off” or saying that bratty shit you said like “I’m sorry I’m busy” is not ok.

Respect is earned.

Let’s also not forget, Y/N, that you cheated on your boyfriend with us. It’s not farfetched for us to think you may spread your legs for more tips at the bar you work at.

Don’t play this game with us, princess. You won’t win.

Eddie & Steve

#########################

October 1997

Edward Munson & Steven Harrington,

I always win and I have more self-respect than you both seem to think I do.

We’re done.

--Y/N

#########################

October 1997

Ed and Stev,

I hate you sooooooo much. I fell in love wit you and did things with u I’ve never done with ANYONE! Except fucking obviously : ). I never did get to feel those “big cocks” streting tearing me open. Why is that? Oh yeah…because youre in jail!

I was willing to wait bcause I loved you. I didn’t care if you’d be 40 someting when you got out. You will NEVER find someone like me again.

I’ll move on though. Always do.

Hey check out this cute boy I met. I took a picture of him sucking my neck. I’m not drunk enough to send a video but you can use your imagination.

You’re good at that especially when u r imagining me cheating on you with men like him.

Assholes…

--Y/N

######################

October 30th, 1997

Trick or treat, little girl.

See you tonight.

--Steve & Eddie

##########

Donate to me

@nailbatanddungeon @dashingdeb16 @hardladyheart @thwippyparker @micheledawn1975 @utterlyinsanity

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literatureloverx · 4 months ago

Note

Eeeeh!!! Your writing is just! Too good! This should be your full time job. I think my brain has overloaded with request ideas. I'm sorry...I'll try and contain myself. But..if you want to please either of these...

Fyodor and bondage...please let's go there.

Fyodor general relationship headcanons (guys clearly yandere by nature..but how does that look for his darling.)

❤️

Thank you so much for the huge compliment, dear!♥️ I wish I could live off of this.

I’m so sorry it took me so long to write this. Please, please forgive me.♥️

I’d love to hear all your ideas and requests! I’m a slow writer, so it takes me some time to complete posts, but I’ll get to them eventually. Please don’t hesitate to share—though it may take a while, I’ll get there!♥️

I wrote bondage headcanons + a scenario. I’m not trying to be arrogant, but I think it might be some of my best work so far.

Mdni, yandere!Fyodor, wife!reader, sub!reader, dom!Fyodor, bondage, VERY detailed.

Note: You have a huge mirror on top of your canopy bed. Which means: you can see every single filthy thing he’s about to do to you.

The headcanons are under the first cut, the scenario is under the second cut.

Enjoy.♥️

Fyodor & Bondage

"You and me... your eyes wide open, wrists bound to the bed, and my hands marking every inch of your skin as mine."

Headcanons

Fyodor Dostoyevsky's obsession with control isn't simply a trait—it's a reflection of his very nature, an extension of the meticulous mind that crafts every move in his life like a grand game of chess.

In the bedroom, this need for control manifests in ways that blur the line between cruelty and devotion, creating a deeply intimate yet unsettling dynamic between you.

He doesn't tie you up just for the sake of it; every knot, every piece of silk that binds your wrists to the bedposts, is an act of art in itself.

He takes pleasure in the delicate balance between pain and pleasure, understanding how the tension in the bonds heightens your senses.

The way your chest rises and falls with each breath, constrained by the bindings, is a symphony to his ears—a rhythm he orchestrates with masterful precision.

Fyodor's control is not just physical; it's psychological, a deep-seated need to own not just your body but your mind.

He whispers in your ear as he works, his voice a soft, dangerous lullaby that wraps around you, lacing his words with a poison that makes you crave his touch even more.

He knows your thoughts before you do, anticipates your desires, and then dangles them just out of reach until you're nearly frantic with need.

To him, the act of binding you isn't about restraint; it's about possession.

Each time he ties you down, he's reminding you —and himself— that you are his to keep, his to protect, and his to break if he so wishes.

The marks he leaves on your skin are not just evidence of your encounters but symbols of his ownership—a canvas of bruises and bites that declare to the world that you belong to the Fyodor Dostoyevsky and no one else (though he would never allow you to flaunt them to anyone).

In these moments, as you lie there, every inch of you under his control, you understand something about him that no one else does.

He craves beauty, not just in the art he admires or the music he plays, but in the way he manipulates you, his perfect creation.

He takes you apart piece by piece, only to put you back together again, stronger, more bound to him than ever.

And then there's the mirror—his favorite tool of seduction and domination.

Positioned above your shared kingsize bed, it serves as both a reminder and a revelation.

Fyodor loves to make you watch yourself as he works, forcing you to witness the way your body responds to him.

The sight of you in the mirror, bound, gagged, vulnerable, with his hands marking your skin, is a reflection of his power over you.

He enjoys the way your eyes, those beautiful, expressive eyes he refuses to cover, reflect both your submission and your defiance, the internal battle he has mastered like a seasoned conductor.

Fyodor is not a man of brute force; his strength lies in subtlety, in the way he makes you crave the very bondage that holds you down.

It's in the way he can make a single touch linger on your skin like fire, the way he can make you beg for mercy with nothing more than a glance.

His pleasure comes not just from your surrender but from the knowledge that you choose to surrender to him, time and time again.

He has cultivated your dependence on him with a precision that rivals any strategist's plan, making sure that even in your freedom, you're never truly free.

And yet, in this dark dance of power and submission, there is an undeniable tenderness.

Fyodor cherishes you, his fragile, soft, perfect little wife.

Every time he binds you, it's not just about taking control—it's about giving you something as well.

The security of his dominance, the assurance that he knows exactly what you need, even when you don't.

He molds you, not out of cruelty, but out of love, a love so intense it manifests in ways others might find terrifying.

He knows every inch of your body, every weakness, every secret pleasure.

And he uses this knowledge to break you down, only to build you back up again, shaping you into the perfect reflection of his desires.

It's a process that's as intimate as it is intense, a bond that goes beyond mere physical connection.

In Fyodor's eyes, you are more than just his wife—you are his masterpiece, a living, breathing testament to his power, his control, and his love.

And as he watches you, bound and beautiful beneath him, he knows that this is where you belong—by his side, in his arms, forever under his control.

Scenario

Fyodor Dostoyevsky's mastery over you is a delicate art, a carefully crafted symphony where each note resonates with the tension of control and submission.

As Fyodor watches you from above, your body spread before him like an exquisite canvas, his eyes darken with a possessive intensity.

The mirror reflects every angle of your submission, every quiver of anticipation that runs through you. He revels in this moment, savoring the power he holds, not just over your body but your very soul.

He doesn't rush; every movement, every touch, is measured, as if he's composing a piece of music where you are the instrument, and your body, bound and trembling, plays the melody of his desires.

When he binds you, it's not simply to restrict your movement.

No, for Fyodor, the act of bondage is a ritual, a way to elevate your shared experience to something almost sacred.

The babypink silk ropes he uses are chosen with care, soft against your skin, yet firm enough to hold you in place.

The knots he ties are intricate, each one a reflection of his calculated mind, designed to allow just enough movement to keep you on edge, but never enough to break free.

The ropes bite into your flesh, not painfully, but just enough to remind you of your submission to him.

The tension in the ropes mirrors the tension in your body, a taut line that could snap at any moment, but never does, because Fyodor is in control, always.

Your legs are spread wide, ankles secured to the bedposts, leaving you open and vulnerable to him.

He takes his time, his gaze traveling over every inch of you, as if committing the sight to memory. There's something almost clinical about the way he studies you, but there is a dark hunger in his eyes that betrays the possessiveness underneath.

He moves with the grace of a predator, each action calculated, deliberate.

His hands glide down your sides, his touch light and teasing, sending shivers up your spine. He pauses at the curve of your hips, fingers digging in just enough to leave a mark, a small, cruel smile playing on his lips as he watches your reflection flinch at the sharpness.

It's a reminder—every bruise, every bite he leaves on your pale skin is a declaration of ownership, his signature on the masterpiece that is you.

He reaches up, tangling a hand in your hair, soft strands slipping through his fingers like silk. His grip tightens, and he pulls your head back, exposing your neck, your chest, as if offering them up for him to mark.

"So fragile," he murmurs, more to himself than to you, his breath hot against your skin.

There's an odd mix of reverence and cruelty in his tone, as if he's marveling at how easily he could break you, yet relishing the fact that you trust him not to. Not entirely, at least.

Fyodor leans down, his lips brushing over the sensitive skin of your neck, before he bites down hard enough to draw a gasp from you. The sting is sharp, sending a rush of heat straight to your core, and you feel his smirk against your skin.

He pulls back to admire the red mark blooming on your neck, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes.

"Perfect," he says softly, and there's something almost affectionate in his voice, a rare glimpse of the man behind the mask that you know so, so well.

But the softness is fleeting. His hand leaves your hair, trailing down your body, fingers brushing over the marks he's left, over the ropes that hold you in place. He's in no rush, savoring every moment, every reaction he pulls from you.

You feel his hands on your thighs, cool fingers tracing the sensitive skin there, and you can't help the way your breath hitches in anticipation.

His fingers dance over your skin, teasing the sensitive spot there, before moving higher, where you're already wet and aching for him.

He's not even touching you where you need him most, but that's the point, isn't it?

Fyodor revels in your desperation, in the way you squirm under his gaze, every nerve in your body alight with need.

He leans down, his breath hot against your inner thigh, and you shiver at the proximity. But instead of giving you what you crave, he moves away, his lips curling into a knowing smirk.

"Patience, my love," he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, the kind that sends a shiver down your spine.

Fyodor enjoys making you wait, dragging out the anticipation until it's nearly unbearable. He knows exactly what he's doing, knows that with every second he makes you wait, your desire for him only grows.

The mirror above you captures everything—the way your body arches off the bed, the way your lips part in a silent plea, the way your eyes, wide and desperate, lock onto his in the reflection. Fyodor makes sure you see it all, makes sure you understand the full extent of your submission.

You are his, bound and laid bare for his pleasure, and the sight of you like this, helpless and needy, fuels his own arousal.

He's still fully clothed, a stark contrast to your nakedness, and that only heightens the sense of power imbalance. He's in control, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

His hands move to your breasts, fingers tracing the curves, brushing over your nipples until they harden under his touch.

He takes one in his mouth, sucking gently at first, then biting down just hard enough to elicit a gasp from you. The pain mingles with pleasure, sending a jolt straight to your core, and you tug at the ropes instinctively, your body craving more.

But Fyodor isn't done teasing you yet. He lavishes attention on your other breast, leaving a trail of bruises in his wake, each mark a reminder of his possession.

When he finally, finally, moves lower, you're a trembling mess, your body practically vibrating with need.

Without warning, his fingers slide over your slick folds, parting them with ease, and he lets out a low hum of approval. Your body arches in response, a strangled moan escaping your lips.

"So wet for me, already, мышка?" he muses, his tone darkly amused.

His fingers dip inside you, curling just right, and you can't stop the moan that escapes your lips. He pumps them slowly, torturously slow, his thumb circling your clit with just enough pressure to drive you mad.

"Look at yourself," he commands, and your eyes are drawn back to the mirror. The sight is overwhelming—your body laid bare, trembling under his touch, your face flushed with desire, and his reflection, calm, controlled, a stark contrast to your desperation.

He adds another finger, curling them inside you just so, hitting that spot that makes you see stars.

You can feel yourself edging closer and closer to release, but just when you think he'll let you come, he pulls away, leaving you gasping, on the brink but not quite there.

Fyodor's laugh is low, dark, vibrating through you as he watches your frustration build.

"Not yet, my love," he murmurs, his voice like velvet, wrapping around you, suffocating in its intensity.

He watches you, taking in every twitch, every whimper, as you struggle against the bonds, desperate for more. But Fyodor isn't interested in your pleasure now, not entirely.

He's interested in your submission, in the way he can bring you to the edge again and again, only to pull you back, making you beg for him, for his touch, for his mercy.

And he does make you beg. He makes you plead with those beautiful eyes of yours, makes you promise anything, everything, if he'll just let you come.

But your dear husband is disciplined, and he takes his time, drawing out your torture until you're nearly sobbing with need. He loves this—the power he holds over you, the way he can make you lose yourself so completely in him.

It's intoxicating, a heady rush that he will never tire of.

When he finally decides you've had enough, he doesn't give you what you want immediately. He teases you with his length, sliding it against your entrance, rubbing it over your swollen clit, making you writhe beneath him.

"Keep your eyes open," he whispers, his voice a dark, velvety command that sends a thrill of both fear and excitement through you.

Fyodor has no need to raise his voice; the sheer authority laced in his words is enough to ensure your obedience.

"Look at me," he commands. Your eyes flutter open and snap to his, where you see the cold, calculating gleam, before shifting to the mirror.

He wants you to see yourself as he does—beautiful, vulnerable, utterly his.

He shifts, positioning himself between your legs, his hands gripping your hips with a bruising force as he lines himself up with you.

But before he pushes in, he pauses, "I want you to watch," he says, his voice low, commanding, brooking no argument. "Watch how I claim what is mine, моя любимая.”

You nod softly, almost pathetically, and watch as he pushes inside you, slow and deliberate, filling you inch by inch until he's seated deep within you.

He thrusts into you, hard and deep, and you can't hold back the cry that escapes your lips. The stretch, the fullness, is overwhelming, and Fyodor doesn't give you a moment to adjust. The sensation is overwhelming as well, and you cry out, your body straining against the bonds, desperate for more.

“The gag…looks so beautiful on you, love..”~

He pulls back only to slam into you again, setting a brutal pace that has you gasping for breath, your body straining against the ropes that bind you.

The mirror reflects it all—the way your body jerks with each thrust, the way your hands clench and unclench in their bindings, the way your eyes, wide and glassy with pleasure, never leave his.

He sets a slow, torturous pace, drawing out every thrust, making sure you feel every inch of him. The pleasure is almost too much, and yet not enough, and you can't help but whimper, begging him with your eyes to go faster, to let you come. But Fyodor is in no hurry.

He watches you, watches the way your face contorts with pleasure, the way your body responds to him, and he drinks it in, savoring the power he has over you.

Fyodor watches you, his gaze never wavering, taking in every detail, every expression, as he drives you closer and closer to the edge.

"Such a good girl," he murmurs, his voice a harsh whisper as he leans down, his breath hot against your ear.

"Taking me so well, so beautifully."

His praise is laced with possession, a dark undercurrent that only heightens your arousal. You can feel the tension building, the coil tightening in your belly, ready to snap at any moment.

Fyodor's thrusts become more erratic, more desperate, as he nears his own release. He shifts his angle slightly, and suddenly he's hitting that spot inside you with every thrust, driving you wild with pleasure.

You can feel yourself teetering on the brink, so close, so achingly close, and you can't help the way your body arches, seeking more, seeking him.

When he finally does let you come, it's with a rough, punishing thrust that sends you spiraling over the edge.

"Come for me," Fyodor orders, his voice rough with need, and it's all you need to push you over the edge.

Your orgasm crashes through you, violent and overwhelming, your vision going white as wave after wave of pleasure rips through you. The orgasm rips through you, powerful and all-consuming, and he doesn't stop, prolonging your pleasure until you're a trembling, incoherent mess beneath him, tears of sheer ecstasy slipping down your cheeks.

He follows soon after, his release shuddering through him, and he holds you close, his breath hot against your ear as he murmurs soft, possessive words, claiming you all over again. He holds you there, his grip on your hips almost painful, burying himself deep inside you as he spills into you, a low, guttural moan escaping him as he does, grounding himself in the feeling of you wrapped so tightly around him.

For a moment, the world seems to stand still, the only sound the harsh breathing of the two of you, the only movement the slight tremors that still wrack your body.

Then, slowly, Fyodor pulls out, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he takes in the sight of you—utterly spent, bound, marked, and completely his.

He takes his time untying you, his touch surprisingly gentle as he massages your wrists, soothing the marks left by the ropes. He unties you with a tenderness that's almost jarring after the intensity of what you just shared.

He rubs soothing circles into your wrists, kisses the marks he's left on your skin, and pulls you into his arms, pressing soft kisses to your temple, your cheeks, as he murmurs words of praise and affection, a stark contrast to the roughness from before.

In the aftermath, as you lie there in his arms, completely exhausted, you feel a strange sense of contentment wash over you.

Fyodor has pushed you to your limits, taken you apart and put you back together, and in doing so, has only strengthened the bond between you.

You are his, in every sense of the word.

Fyodor may be a man who craves control, but he's not without care. He cherishes you, his fragile little wife, and in these moments, when you're sated and secure in his embrace, you understand the depths of his love for you.

You belong to him, body and soul, and as you drift off to sleep in his arms, you know that there's no place you'd rather be.

Fyodor has claimed you, bound you to him in every way that matters, and you wouldn't change a thing.

In his arms, in his control, you are exactly where you belong.

FYODOR’S MASTERLIST => HERE

TO MY OTHER WORKS => HERE

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simonisferal · 11 months ago

Text

Valentine — wanderer x gn reader

erhmm, kaveh gets taped to the ceiling, obvious courting/pining, reader's a fucking simp, wanderer's a small bitch/affectionate

guy came up to me and became my valentine, now i gotta reject him because i dont see him like that 😭 but happy valentines day!!

1.5k words

Valentine’s Day was literally today and you were stressing about what to get your lovely partner! Well, not really. If anything, you’re freaking out on how to confess your feelings for them and *then* ask him out. Crazy, and very last minute, you know, but hear yourself out!

You’ve been pinning and courting him for a while. It’s painfully obvious that you liked him, or at least you think.

Wanderer had no revelation. Sometimes he thought that the flowers and large amounts of flowers, snacks and drinks you left on his desk or mail was part of a big prank. Not even his new friend group (“Aggravate”, as Cyno called them) could tell him differently.

They were walking down the halls, ignoring most people who gawked and eyed them. It wasn’t rare for people to look at the five beauties but it was fairly worse since it’s a holiday.

”You excited?” Tighnari, one of the only people who have a brain in this dumb school, mentions.

"For what?” He pauses his walk.

“Oh! For his little secret admirer to come up and confess!” Kaveh squeals. Alhaitham, who stood behind him only snorted but stayed quiet. Tighnari looked to the side but nevertheless agreed with him, “Something like that. I was going to say chocolates or a present but that works.”

Cyno interjects, “Maybe a letter? Something simple to not attract too much attention to you, I would guess.”

”Oh please, I doubt that prankster has the balls to come up to my face and say something, let alone a fake confession.” Wanderer says, not only denying the idea but shooting down Kaveh’s suggestion as well.

"Booo! Where’s your passion for love? I don’t understand how people like you, babes.” Alhaitham pats Kaveh’s back but we all know he thinks it too.The puppet snorts but doesn’t refute anything else. He continues to walk, leaving the four behind while they head to their classes.

Wanderer was interrupted many times by others trying to give him gifts, making him late several times. He grew tired of the holiday and just wanted to go home. Maybe Tighnari can give him something to ease his mind when it's time for study hall.

But they never show up. Wow, ‘real friends’ my ass.

When he goes to his next class, down a small hall in the Vahumana category, Wanderer only sees the empty class. There was no way he was late or early or even in the wrong classroom.

His wary behavior didn’t cease when he noticed a singular note on a desk, his desk. Wanderer didn’t hesitate to pick it up, his smooth hands running over the frail paper before unfolding it from its fold.

Dear Wanderer, it read.

You’re probably reading this with caution or at least looking behind your back right now but I can assure you, nothing bad’s gonna happen as you read this! (I don’t know if that sounded ominious ominous or not so, sorry :( )

I’m the one who keeps buying you flowers and those snacks if you didn’t know by now! I actually have something to tell you and I really hope you come to the library or else I’ll kind of look like a loser lol— Your secret admirer

ps: I’m a little offended you think this whole thing is a prank, Wanderer :(

Damn. He closed the piece of paper and ran his hands through it again. ‘Yeah, right. Like someone would actually love me enough to do this’, he thinks.

Wanderer shoves the note into his short’s pocket and sits down in his seat. There are small trinkets and sour candies in the desk with another note, “Just in case you get hungry :)”. …He sighs. He takes one of the candies in his hand and starts unwrapping the wrapper. ”You guys can come out now. I finished reading the letter.”

There was a small hint of silence before anyone spoke.

"Oh thank the gods, I thought you were gonna leave us here.” Kaveh groans. Both Tighnari and Cyno reveal themselves from hiding in a closet and Alhatiham just turns around in the professor's chair.

”Kaveh?! How’d you get up there?” Tighnari leaves the closet, passing by Wanderer to get under Kaveh, who was duct-taped to the ceiling. He looked sick and frail and like he was about to throw up.”I asked Alhaitham to help me like three hours ago but he never got me down! I missed a bunch of classes..” He whines. Tighnari gives Haitham a glare but the grey-haired male ignores it.

”I’ll help you down, okay?” Tighnari comforts Kaveh and stretches his hand out towards the closet. “Cyno, give me my bow.”

”Alright.” Cyno starts reaching into the closet while the four of them could hear Kaveh pleading, “Wait! No! I can get down myse—!”

Wanderer’s ears ring at the loud sound of Kaveh crashing onto the floor. Joking, of course. He used his anemo powers to safely get the blond down.

"You four are such a hassle.” He groans.

"Well?”

“‘Well’ what?”

”Are you gonna go?”

”Go where?”

”The library, for god's sake!”

Cyno nods along. “[Name] is waiting for you there.”Wanderer groans again while everyone else looks at Cyno like he just admitted to a murder. They whisper as the puppet crosses his arms in his seat. “I’m not going to a dumbass library to just meet [Na]—…[Name]?”

"Oh wow, Cyno spilled. Expected it to be Kaveh.” Alhaitham retorts. Wanderer could only hear a small ‘hey!’ from the thoughts running through his head.

Believe it or not but you were the second place bachelor in the Akademiya. Most girls and guys would be pursuing you right now but you were just in the library? And you liked him? Yeah, right, he’ll have to see it with his own eyes.

”Fine, come on. Let’s go.” He stood up from his seat and began to walk out the classroom, leaving the four boys again.

”Should we go after him?” Kaveh asked.

"You just fell off of a ceiling, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go…”He whines again but wipes his butt from any dirt from the floor. “Okay…”

”I’ll stay with you.”

”Alhaitham, what?”

”You heard me.”

Both Tighnari and Cyno left to chase after Wanderer, the quick fellow already somehow causing a commotion in the halls. You were sitting in the library when Wanderer ran in. You expected him to come, not because you thought of him as a hopeless romantic but because you knew he’d want to see such a wanted figure as yourself actually liking someone.

”Good afternoon, Wanderer.” He heard.

You were carrying a Sumeru rose in your hands, fiddling and admiring the petals and thorns. He just stood in front of you, not believing it wasn’t a prank.

”’Good afternoon’ my ass. What do you want?”

You frown. “Did you not read the letter I left for you?”

He crosses his arms and scoffs. He had an obvious face of disdain, still not believing you. “Why yes of course I did. And just so you know,” he took a small step closer. “I still think this is a dumb joke.”

That statement couldn’t help but make you laugh. “Really? Aren’t a lot of people pursuing you? What about me courting you for, like, 3 months?”He falls silent. You weren’t known for your jokes, most people (excluding Cyno) thought you were unfunny. You also weren’t a liar—everyone calls you honest and trustworthy that even Wanderer can only imagine how many promises you’ve completed.

”Look. I’m really not joking…” You stand up from your chair at the library, taking small steps towards the short male. You extend your hand, showing him the rose you had been admiring for so long.

“I like you.”

Ha… Haha.. He starts laughing. Wanderer found you absolutely stupid. No one, ever, would actually admit to liking him—let alone on a holiday all about love. You had to be an idiot to even think about him romantically.

The puppet stops laughing after noticing you hadn’t gone away or laughed with him. He raised an eyebrow and looked at your frown. “Seriously? You’re an idiot.” His rude remark did nothing to hide the small smile on his face. It was amusing, such a silly thing actually. Who knew you would be such a dumbass for love? Now he doesn't feel even a single drop of guilt for eating all those snacks.

That look on your face says it all. You're in love with him. Pathetic, honestly. But Wanderer'll give you (and himself) a chance at this little game called life. He finds this little situation funny now that he knows it's not some sort of sick joke.

”Fine, I’ll give you a chance.” He takes the rose in his hands, twirling it with his fingers. He looked up at your excited smile. Humans are so easy to please, he thinks but it doesn't stop the small smile crawling on his own face.

”Just don’t bore me.”

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onelittlespiral · 7 months ago

Note

Hey, it's been pretty hard to motivate myself to write lately with my new job, so I want to reward someone who's doing a great job getting his work done lately. I want to give idesofrevolution a nice musky dudebro transformation he'll really love, and hopefully the mystery transformation gives me some more free time to be horny and creative.

Subject: Order #100690

Dear Fred,

Thank you for your recent purchase from The Spiral, home for all your transformation needs! Your order #100690 has been received and is on its way as we speak. Your order includes:

(1) Bro(Musk)_From_Friend(Online; Blog)

(1) Mystery(Self)

Please note that due to the subject’s history with transformations, delivery methods may be delayed or gradual. Expect fulfillment in 2-3 weeks.

Sincerely,

The Spiral

We knew you’d come around and round and round and round…

You couldn’t wait to hear back from The Spiral, checking your inbox every couple of hours for any updates on delivery. Training was slow and boring at the new office, so there wasn’t much to do besides sit through the standard HR videos on one monitor and scroll social media on the other. That was when you received an email notification. You opened it up, and excitement turns to disappointment. Just another boring diversity video. You pop it up on the side, plug in your headphones, and wait for the stock music and graphics to start. Except, this one is different. You are watching from a first person perspective as a man walks into a room and lies down on a couch. The camera captures his enormous pecs, hiding the rest of his torso, as they flex a little. You glance around the office, nervous about who may be watching. Something must be wrong, this can’t be your afternoon assignment. But your eyes are drawn back to the screen when the door opens again and another beautiful man graces the screen. Your eyes fix on his, as he leans into the camera for a kiss. You can almost feel his heat through the screen, and you’re soon relaxed in your chair, watching the show.

As he slowly grinds against you, you subconsciously begin to rub at your own crotch, simulating his movements. You begin to feel a horny fog fill your mind as you begin to buy into the fantasy, beginning to ignore your surroundings and forget about your coworkers. It isn’t long before your dick is fully out, imaging how good it feels to have his soft hands rubbing your hardening member. You don’t even notice how much you are beginning to leak pre-cum, synchronized with when he places his delicate lips on your cock and takes the whole member in one motion. You lean back in your chair and let the waves of pleasure relax your muscles. You begin to feel so heavy, as your arms grow tired of stroking. You place them behind your head, letting this experience overtake you as you continue to have your cock expertly worked by a pro. You begin to match his tempo, thrusting in time. Your grunts are getting deeper as you begin to get close. Your partner feels it coming, and steadies his tempo. He doesn’t want you to come too soon. But the fog in your brain is only intensify, leaving you more aroused by the moment. You aren’t able to hold it in much longer.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum in you, and you better not miss a drop,” you say, and his eyes show understanding. You reach out and tug at his hair, taking control of the tempo as his eyes begin to water. But he doesn’t have to worry for too long. You are soon dumping your load in his stomach, and he cums hands free in turn, as the director gets the money shot.

“CUT! That’s a wrap.”

Your partner gets up and wipes himself down. You just grab your shorts and sit back down on the couch.

It’s going to be a long day of shooting, but you love it. At least here you get to be horny and own it. And, more importantly, get paid. Could be worse. You could be stuck at some stuffy office job. Just then your phone buzzes with a notification. One of your friends just posted, let’s see… oh, @idesofrevolution. Good thing too, you had been worried about Frost. Annnnd a second notification from your management company, The Spiral. They were sending you some confirmation info… something about the Doctor himself coincidentally enough. Seemed to be some details about a movie scene or something meant for him, so probably some mix up. Let’s see what it says…

Dr. Frost was has some background knowledge on our methods from years of research into his own transformation methods. Consequently we took a more gradual approach. Slowly, we began introducing neural waves throughout his day to prime him. In his home, in his car, on his blog, we implemented subtle messages about growth. About muscle. About musk. After all, who needs to waste so much time showering every day? When his deodorant sticks keep going missing, what was the point in buying more? After all, he no longer had much time to go to the store, as he logged off from work and drove straight to the gym every day. At first he wondered why he was suddenly so worried about his health. But as we continued to amplify our waves, he soon stopped worrying. It was natural to want to be strong. It was natural to reek. It was natural to feel good, bro. I’m in control.

As his musk intensifies, he is only conditioning himself to become more and more self indulgent. We began alternating frequencies, sending his testosterone through the roof, driving a new crop of hair growth and keeping his balls plenty full. Between his pit stench and constant gym pump, he is keeping himself at a near constant leak of pre-cum, and quickly soiling any attempt at covering himself up. Not that he cares. He hasn’t showered in a few weeks, only allowing himself tongue baths from whatever gym bro he catches staring and manages to get into his truck for a make out sesh. His memories are evaporated, nothing more than a sweat stain on his favorite cap. His brain is so high on his own supply, our neural waves had to be amplified to get through his brain fog. Hell, he can hardly form a proper sentence, bro. We have taken the liberty of updating his blog to more accurately reflect his new interests. His stories have been replaced with his thirst traps and progress photos. We are satisfied with his progress and have left him to continue his journey of his own, new and improved, free will.

You should really reach out to him sometime. See if he wants to take his modeling career in a new, more exciting direction. Could be fun to suck that musky cock…

Subject: Order #100690 Fulfilled

Dear Fred,

Your order has been fulfilled. We know you have many options, but thank you for supporting The Spiral.

Sincerely,

The Spiral

#musk #male transformation #transformation #hypnosis #bro #jock #reality change #jockification #bogo #technology tf #male tf

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crippleprophet · 10 months ago

Text

i don’t understand how people can be so fucking cruel about people who can’t read much (including people who aren’t literate, though this post is from my experience with chronic illness). like, one of my main motivations behind posting excerpts of butch+femme writing on my main (@campgender ; it’s fine to go through my bookshelf tag but please only followers age 18+ on that blog!) is that it is fucking hard to read a full book!!

my reading comprehension & stamina decreased drastically when i developed worse chronic fatigue, & while i’m overjoyed that i’ve recently regained a lot of that particular ability since getting blackout curtains, there are absolutely still texts i can’t even begin to parse that i once would’ve loved digging into — texts that it would be actively dangerous for me to attempt to struggle through because it would break pacing.

idk i’m not trying to be self-congratulatory here or whatever but like. the second i could access information through this means again, the focus of my (very fucking limited!!) energy has been giving it back to my people. my life has been unquestionably, deeply shaped by tumblr users who share excerpts of theory & memoir & poetry because they were providing labor of which i was in need & incapable.

finding, selecting, transcribing, formatting, & at times contextualizing passages takes a lot of fucking time & energy, but in order for me to encounter certain concepts, experiences, & histories, it’s work somebody else had to do, because i couldn’t read 200 pages of research or anthology in order to encounter the 10 that would change my life — but posted 2 or 3 pages at a time, i could save that in my drafts to get through on a good day, & quotes that were only a couple lines i could usually read right when i encountered them.

so, in memory of the years i spent unable to access theory through anything other than excerpts & secondhand summaries,

and in anticipation of the years to come where i will live the same,

and in acceptance that the brain is a muscle, in love of we the exercise-intolerant,

to you, dear reader — whatever form & frequency & duration that reading may take, even if it’s no further than this post — i make my motherfucking covenant: the issues i discuss around pulling quotes will be about the political act of the ellipse and the ethics of transcription, not shaming people for the methods of accessing information that are available to them. as often & as long as i am able, people can ask me to explain something or summarize in plain language and i will meet them with respect, interest, & effort. if someone’s looking for information on a particular topic, identity, experience & doesn’t have the energy to find it, i’m gonna give what i have towards filtering through the bullshit for the gems.

according to our abilities. according to our needs.

and the next time somebody tells you it’s not ableist to say everyone has to read [whatever work], tell them to go put their precious ability to better use in making it more accessible.

#mac.txt #continuing my trend of showing up on this blog once every couple months with an infuriated rant & then fucking off back to bed #me/cfs #reading #chronic illness #ableism

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softpascalito · 1 month ago

Text

I To Dig a Grave I Chapter 6 I

Summary: Twenty-one years after the outbreak, you come to Wyoming looking for something and end up in Jackson after a stranger saves your life.

But he doesn't stay a stranger.

Turns out Joel Miller is looking for something too. It feels like a fresh start. But when bad luck seems to follow you, Joel is the only one to turn to, forcing both of you to confront your feelings about your pasts- and each other.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 25k+ Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Age Difference, Smut, Explicit Content, Grief/Mourning, Mental Health Issues, Canon-Typical Violence, Chose not to use Archive Warnings, Tags to be added

AO3 LINK // Series Masterlist // Playlist

notes: hello! it's been a second but i promise tdag is still my favorite child so this is continuing slowly but surely (i'm currently just distracted by pedro pascal as slutty gladiator).

this fic will deal with heavy topics. please note that it doesn't use archive warnings and tags will be added as we go in order to avoid spoilers. each chapter will have detailed warnings in the end notes on ao3.

Chapter 6 – The Ceremony Part 1

‘I didn't exactly miss it or want to live there again- I just wondered where it had gone.’

— Alice Munro, Dear Life

What the fuck does he think he’s doing?

If there is one person in Jackson who is least equipped to handle a grieving person who’s just lost someone to suicide, it’s him. Joel is sure of that. He should just tell you that he can’t do this, hand you over to Tommy or Maria or anyone else who doesn’t mess up whatever or whoever they touch.

It would be better for you, to have someone who actually knows how to work through grief. Not someone who sneaks out of bed before dawn to get a glass of whiskey and sit in their dark living room to ponder over things years and years past. The way he currently is.

But Joel is also sure that he can’t let you go. He can’t recall how or why but he does understand that you have found a way to get under his skin, one no one else has quite figured out, carved a path that only you may tread, that causes something to tug at his heart every time he sees you curled up in his bed or smells the soap that sits on his bathroom shelf. Somewhere along the road, he has started to care.

Not that anything good ever happens to the people he cares about.

A small groan leaves his throat as he leans back into the cushions, his free hand reaching over to produce a small notebook from below the couch table. He stares down at it for a few moments, weighing it in his hand. Then, he downs his whiskey in one go, sets the glass down onto the table and begins flipping through the small pages, seemingly endless notes, many of them jotted down rather hurriedly, a few written with much more care.

A thud upstairs makes his head jerk up. He freezes, listening intently. And then, he hears the unmistakable sound of someone running over the wooden floor upstairs. He’s up in an instant, cursing under his breath as he moves through the dimly lit room, using his foot to nudge a box aside that’s still sitting in the hallway, blocking his path towards the sound of bare feet thundering down the stairs.

***

For a split moment, you think it’s morning. The warmth beside you is gone. Maybe Joel has gotten another early start, doing whatever he does in the mornings while he lets you sleep.

And then, while you’re still floating in the comfortable state between dreaming and reality, you think you hear a door close somewhere downstairs.

Your body moves before your brain has a chance to catch up. Your legs, still tangled in the sheets, get caught in them and send you flying off the bed and onto the hard floor with a thud. It doesn’t slow you down. You force your trembling legs to push your body back onto your feet and rush through the bedroom door, taking the stairs three steps at a time. You have half a mind that you should shout, alert someone to what is happening, but your throat feels like it’s closed up.

Someone needs to stop him. To keep him from going out into the woods, to some hidden cabin. He always has the revolver on him. At that thought, you jump down the last few steps.

For the second time, your run towards the front door is interrupted and you collide with something solid just as you reach the corner that turns toward the front door. Again, it sends you stumbling and you prepare yourself for another hard fall. But it never comes. Instead, two strong arms catch you and Joel’s face above you finally comes into focus.

“You—” Again, your throat fails you. You simply press yourself into Joel’s chest, seemingly the only place that will swallow your sobs these days.

“Hey, it’s okay. Calm down, I’m right here,” Joel coos above you, his chest vibrating as he hums and brings one hand up to the back of your head, stroking your still slightly damp hair.

It takes him a solid five minutes to get you over onto the couch and calm you enough for him to let go for a moment. “I’ll be right here, hold on. Give me one second.”

He steps back into the hallway, shuffling something around. And as your panic recedes, the tide sinking, you glance around. A single glass sits on the coffee table in front of you, holding a few leftover drops of what you’re quite sure is whiskey. Beside it is a small notebook, the pages already slightly rippled.

You suddenly realize you’re not the only one in the old house who seems to have trouble sleeping.

Eventually, Joel returns with a woolen blanket that he drapes over your form, nodding to himself. “There we are.”

He doesn’t sit down, instead stepping over to the window and casting a glance outside. As if there is anything worth seeing on a street that never changes, one that hasn’t had cars passing on it in over twenty years.

“I’m sorry, I just—I panicked,” you whisper, keeping your head just low enough that you can still see Joel’s outline against the dim light of the street lamp outside. His shoulders seem to hang a tad lower than usual, still broad but not as intimidating as they once seemed, especially with him dressed in his usual pajamas consisting of soft plaid pants and a worn shirt.

“Don’t apologize. You’re bound to have some triggers after everything. It’s good if we figure them out as early as possible.” He pauses for a moment, turning around to study your face. “Was it being by yourself?”

You gently shake your head. “No. Not really. It was more—I thought I heard a door close. Like you were leaving.”

You can see the exact moment he understands what you are implying and his face falls slightly. “Oh, darlin’, you know I wouldn’t—I wouldn’t leave you. You know that, right?”

The only response you can manage is a shaky nod.

Joel sighs as he sits down next to you, rubbing his thumb over the small bald spot in his beard. To both your surprise, it’s you who starts the conversation back up.

“What about you?”

A frown appears between Joel's brows at the question and he turns towards you, studying your face as if the answers to whatever questions he has are written there. “What about me?”

“You were up too, weren’t you?” you ask quietly, turning your body towards him and leaning into the couch, the plush cushions and the blanket comfortable against your skin.

“Yeah but I was just—I wanted to get some things done for tomorrow—”

“Joel,” you stop him, raising your brow a tiny bit. It’s not meant to be hurtful, you’re sure of that. But if he believes you will swallow such a blatantly obvious lie, he may not be as good at this as you thought he was. “It’s not fair if you’re not honest with me.”

You can see his facade crumble as his expression falters and he nods quietly. “Yeah, I reckon you’re right about that.” Still, he seems to consider his words very carefully. “I don’t sleep well, sometimes. So I figured I may as well do some work. Didn’t wanna wake you with my tossing ‘n turning.”

Your heart aches at how casually he mentions this. It makes sense that he’d have nightmares. And you’re sure you barely know half of what they’re about. Joel cares so much when it comes to you that it genuinely baffles you how easily he brushes it off when he is the one suffering.

And then, a very quiet voice reminds you that this may be, like so many things, your fault. That you are so messed up that even big bad Joel Miller begins to struggle if he keeps you around for too long.

“Was it about—” You pause for a moment, trying to find the right words. It suddenly appears to you how difficult that is and you silently vow to thank Joel for having found them all throughout the last few days. “Was it about what we were talking about earlier?”

You have to be a horrible person. Because you know that deep inside, you want him to say yes. To assure you that this is about the things from his past that still haunt him and not about Lane—or about you. You don’t want to be the cause for his sleepless nights.

He doesn’t respond, but you have a feeling he doesn’t need to. It’s written all over him. The way he holds his body, the eyes that won’t meet yours. You don’t know what to do. You want to help. Maybe the same way he wants to help you. Cooking dinner, making coffee, getting an extra blanket. Because this is something he can’t fix. Only mend.

7 months earlier

“There is absolutely no way I’m going in there,” you proclaimed, dipping your toe into the water below you. “That is freezing!”

“It’s better once you’re in there. We can’t have hiked all this way for nothing,” a voice mused next to you. “Besides, it was your idea to come up here.”

“Well, I haven’t been before and I sure as hell wouldn’t have if I'd known it would involve freezing to death,” you groaned, lifting your foot back to the safety of solid ground below you and taking a few steps along the water of Flat Creek Lake.

It was crystal clear, allowing you to see the small rocks littering the bottom of the lake and the little fish zooming back and forth between them. It was still enough that you could see the reflection of the sky, blue with a few clouds scattered in between. The first warm day of the year.

You took in the scenery for a few more moments, letting your gaze wander further over the water and the trees on the other side of the lake and the mountains behind them, before turning back towards Lane—only to find that she’d thrown her clothes over a nearby trunk and was sporting a striped bathing suit. A small whistle escaped your throat.

“Haven’t seen that one before,” you commented off-handedly, causing a faint blush to appear on her cheeks. “That’s ‘cause it’s not mine.”

You raised a brow as you watched her wade into the water, sending small rippling waves out into the lake. “Wait, you’re not saying—”

A tiny smirk had appeared on Lane’s face. “Cat was nice enough to lend it to me when I told her we were gonna hike up here.”

“I see how it is.” You grinned, pushing your shirt over your head and throwing it next to Lane's pile of clothes. Unlike her, you opted for some of your more covered up underwear. Swimsuits weren’t exactly a clothing priority and you hadn’t found yourself in need of any until now. “I’m not enough for you anymore,” you said dramatically, throwing a hand towards your temple. “How will I ever get over you leaving me?”

“Oh shut up. Besides, if you are allowed to have your boyfriend over for dinner every other month, I am definitely good to borrow a bathing suit.”

“How many times do I have to tell you?” You groaned exasperatedly. “Joel is not my boyfriend. He’s just–” You raised a hand and waved it through the air, trying to find the right word. It wouldn’t come.

“I don’t know. We’re just friends.” You weakly kicked at a small rock below you before stepping into the water for the second time that day, getting your feet used to the temperature of the mountain lake.

“Even Tommy says Joel doesn’t have friends,” Lane pointed out with a lopsided grin.

You shrugged. You yourself weren’t sure what to call your relationship with Joel, and even though you’d tried not to think on it too hard, the question had forced itself to the forefront of your mind more than once. And with every passing month, it seemed to become more persistent and difficult to push away.

“Are you gonna get over here or think about that old man all day?”

Lane paid for her comment (and, you silently vowed, for daring to call Joel old) by receiving a big splash of cold water aimed directly at her. She squealed, jumping the few steps over to you and pulling you further into the lake. It didn’t seem quite as cold as you splashed around in it together, only coming back out when you saw that Lane’s lips began to match the shade of her hair and pointed out that her freezing to death would really ruin the early summer day.

You headed over to one of the log cabins at the foot of the small lake, a place so far from civilization that it had barely been touched since the outbreak. It had taken you close to six hours to make the hike up the dirt road into the mountains. But, upon seeing the view in front of you, you both had agreed that getting up early had been worth it.

“Who told you about this again?” Lane asked, her mouth slightly open as she stared around the cabin that seemed almost completely intact. Bits and pieces were missing but the furniture was still properly arranged, mugs and plates were lined up neatly on a shelf over the sink and even a few items of clothing were still dangling from some hooks near the door.

“Joel did,” you admitted quietly. She just wiggled her eyebrows at you before heading further into the cabin, peeking into the small bathroom and the adjacent bedroom.

“Hey, there’s some towels here,” she called over her shoulder and came back a few moments later holding some cream-colored towels that had probably once been white. Even in the more remote areas around Jackson, finding housing that was this intact was rather rare.

“Maybe we should take a look around,” you offered, your mind already wandering to which treasures could be hidden in the cabin. Anything from practical items like medicine to more recreational ones—possibly a nice bottle of whiskey, stored away just for you to find. As if she could read your thoughts, Lane pursed her lips a little, one hand smoothing over the towels in her hands.

You stared at her. “What?”

“I don’t think we should take anything;” she said softly. “At least not back to Jackson.”

You felt a small frown appear on your forehead as you mulled her words over in your mind. “What do you mean? It’s not like anyone’ll come back for this.” You gently tapped the wood of the cupboard next to you. “Judging by the amount of dust these have not been touched in at least a decade.”

She shrugged, stepping back towards the front door. “I just mean, if it’s been very peaceful here for so long… We shouldn’t be the ones to make it less so.”

You stared after Lane as she stepped outside, watching her descend down the few wooden steps that led up to the cabin and the way the sun hit her blue hair, the ends still dripping slightly.

It took you a moment to gather your thoughts and follow her back to the lake, carefully closing the cabin door behind you. You both had secured a towel each from the cabin and were drying off when Lane caught you off-guard for the second time that day.

“Do you remember any of it? Before, I mean?”

You sighed softly. The question that had become as recurring as ‘and what do you do for a living?’ had once been. In hindsight, you were surprised you hadn’t discussed it earlier–at least not in detail.

“I do. Not much, not anything–I don’t remember how the world was. Just how it seemed to me as a kid,” you answered truthfully.

You could see Lane nod out of the corner of your eye as she leaned back and wrung out her hair.

“I miss it sometimes.” A few seconds of quiet passed. “It’s silly, really. You can’t miss something you don’t remember.”

“I think you can,” you said softly, turning your head towards her. She had paused in her movements and was gazing out onto the lake, though her eyes seemed much more distant than usual.

Your own stayed trained on her as she spoke, her tone a tad lower. “Do you ever think about leaving?”

If it had been anyone else with you, you probably would’ve lied, claimed that of course your heart never wavered, that you knew you were exactly where you needed to be. But this was Lane. Lane was safe.

“Sometimes,” you answered, your voice equally quiet even though you were sure there was no one around to listen except the small fish and possibly a fawn hiding in the undergrowth. “But then, I suppose it wouldn’t make much of a difference. We’d suffer through the day anywhere. But here, we at least have something to come home to when the suffering is done.”

It wasn’t exactly as positive as you may have wanted to sound. You’d always felt a tad protective over Lane, with her being a few years younger and less experienced. You knew she looked up to you and you wanted to set a good example, more than anything.

But that included being honest.

“When I came—When I headed to Wyoming, I was looking for something better than a QZ or Fedra,” you said softly. “I think I could’ve ended up in a lot of places much worse than Jackson.”

“But Jackson isn’t what you were looking for.”

You shook your head. “No. I suppose it’s not. But it’s what I found.”

You gave a bittersweet smile and she returned it, even though hers still seemed slightly broader than yours. It was an odd moment that passed between you, almost an unspoken agreement not to dwell on the topic too long. To not speak of the loss.

“What about you?” you asked, shifting the conversation away from yourself. “Do you remember anything from before?”

Lane gave a small snort at that. “Yeah, now that you ask, I remember pooping my pants.” She shook her head weakly, leaning back and staring out at the water again. “I was a baby.” A sigh escaped her lips as her body faltered slightly, her shoulders dropping a tiny bit. “Sometimes I wonder what my life would’ve been like if I’d been born ten years earlier. If it had been—I don’t know. Better.”

“Well, for the record, I’m glad you ended up in Jackson at the same time I did,” you said softly, nudging her shoulder.

She nodded and smiled, returning the small gesture. It doesn’t dawn on you until much later that she talks about her life in past tense.

“Okay, a tiny bit to the left,” Lane waved her hand as if she could position you like a puppet. “My left or yours?”

“Yours—Yeah, like that.”

A few seconds passed where you showed the lens your best smile and saw Lane fumbling with the buttons before the noise of the camera shutter announced that she’d found a frame she was content with. The giggle that followed, however, took you by surprise. “What?” You asked, looking past the lens and trying to catch a glimpse of her face. “What's so funny?!”

“Oh, I just thought about whether or not to slip this into the slideshow at the town hall next week. Maybe that would finally get Joel to ask you out.”

“You, Eleanor, are a pervert,” you commented drily, letting yourself fall back onto your comfortable towel and reaching for your book, trying to ignore the small wave of heat that had suddenly spread through your body at the thought of Joel seeing you like this.

“You know, I do think you two would fit together pretty well,” Lane hummed with her eyes closed half an hour later when both of you had stretched out on your towels and were bathing in the sun, waiting for the warmth to dry you. Content to ignore the world around you for just another hour.

You put your book down for a moment, squinting as you glanced over at her. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you but nothing is happening between Joel and me. Not ever.”

***

His knock on the bathroom door is tentative, two gentle raps that travel through the wood towards you.

“Are you almost done?”

You stare at your reflection. A woman in black stares back. You know she is about to attend a funeral, the dark outfit and the sadness hiding behind concealer that doesn’t quite match her skin tone giving away what awaits her just as much as what’s behind.

You long to wish her something, to give her hope. But you don’t have any left to give.

You wish you could stay in the comforting bathroom forever, retire the black clothes, bundle them up and hide them at the very back of the cupboard below the sink, next to long expired cleaning supplies and a broken hairdryer. Close the door on all of them and run a hot bath to curl up in, one that never runs cold and that you never have to leave.

“Are you alright in there?”

Joel’s tone has turned slightly worried, no doubt owing to the fact that you are too busy keeping yourself from having a panic attack to respond properly.

“I’m done,” you call out, your voice trembling a little but at least it’s loud enough for him to hear. You can practically see him nod outside the door, even before you’ve moved over to it and turned the knob. Facing Joel Miller is the easy part. Facing the rest of the world is the hard one.

His gaze flies over you very briefly, taking in the clothes he retrieved from your house for the occasion, but you barely notice. What you do notice is that Joel has shaved while you were getting ready, his beard a little more neat than usual, even if still streaked with the small hints of gray that make your eyes linger. What makes your breath hitch in your throat however are his clothes.

He’s dressed accordingly, in a black suit that’s been patched up in a few places and is half a size too small on his broad frame. You’re alarmingly aware you have never seen him in a suit before—you’re certain you'd remember if you did if this is what he looks like.

It doesn’t quite fit the Joel who’s been following you around the house like an anxious guard dog, the man who wears plaid shirts and jeans so much that you remember being surprised when you first found out he does not, in fact, sleep in them. He always looks comfortable, in his worn shirts and slightly stained clothes, like he’s been wearing them for years, like he’ll never change. Like he’ll never leave. A constant that nothing could take from you, like the peaks of the mountains you can see from Jackson on a clear day.

But now he looks—there is no other way to put it—sexy. The suit, tight in all the right places, momentarily manages to take your mind off the why and you very briefly allow yourself to just stare at him.

“Hey, you’re not gonna pass out on me, are you?” Joel muses, bringing a hand to your shoulder to steady you. He looks worried, the crease on his forehead that never seems to leave it these days a little deeper than usual. Of course he’d think that your behavior can be attributed to your distress. Which it can, technically, just a completely different kind of distress.

“Sorry, no, I'm fine,” you reassure him, pushing your way further into the bedroom and taking a deep breath. He doesn’t move quite in time, causing your side to brush over his and you can actually feel the smooth fabric of his blazer against the skin of your hand where they meet. You catch a whiff of his aftershave—or whatever the hell makes him smell so good—just as you step past him into the bedroom and towards the door, completely missing that the slight scowl on Joel's face has changed ever so slightly.

“Come on, Texas. I don’t wanna be late,” you mumble, trying to lighten the mood—or at least distract from the fact that your brain is ready to head down a wildly inappropriate path. It must be the shock causing it to go haywire, or at least that is what you silently vow to believe.

Still, you’re careful to not turn around far enough to actually see him, keeping him safely out of sight.

Because you really must be the worst person in the world to stand here, about to attend you best friends funeral, and leer over some fucking man.

Just that it's Lane's funeral and a small voice in the back of your head that sounds oddly like her pipes up to say that he does look good and that, if nothing else, this may be the one good thing to come out of today. Joel Miller in a fucking suit.

notes: thank you for reading! i have a few more chapters done but opening this fic is somehow both my therapy and mentally very taxing so bear with me please <3

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mt-oe · 12 days ago

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✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Hey dears!

Thank you so much for participating in the last poll! I honestly didn't expect so many people to participate since it was just a random idea that popped into my mind. Regardless, I'm so so happy to have your choice in this fic.

For those who would like to read part one, here's the link.

And the results are...drumroll

Ta-da!

I'm very excited to write this fic, especially since I just got my first vibrator and thought this fit the occasion. Hope everyone is satisfied and hope you enjoy! Mwa mwa :*

warning/s: not proofread, she/her for mizu, voyeurism, masturbation (mdni!), implied afab reader

Recall:

A few moments later, Mizu finally looked up. Her sharp blue eyes looking into yours deeply before looking down, staring at the baby pink panties you had on today. She tilted her head slightly to get a better look, admiring the way your thighs trembled in excitement, and the slight throb of your cunt.

Her gaze was so intense it almost made you want to shrink in your seat. The excitement was making your throat tighten, your hand going up to your lips to try and hide your smile.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Mizu continued to watch a bit longer, wondering just how long it would take until you felt a bit of embarrassment; however, it didn't take long until she couldn't take it anymore. Her patience was never the longest, especially when the prey was just in front of her. A soft exhale gently blowing through her nose as she stood up, her typical subtle frown on her lips in a convincing attempt to look bothered. The same look that scared everyone who dared look at her. But god, you loved that look on her face. You fucking loved it when Mizu looked so damn bothered.

The sound of wood scraping against wood sounded lightly in the quiet library atmosphere as she got up, and with soundless steps, went over to you. She could see the subtle way your breathing stuttered, the slight shiver in your shoulders, and the glimmer in your eyes filled with fake innocence.

You couldn't help it. Not when she was standing this close, towering over you in an attractively intimidating manner. Not when her familiar scent, the smell of fading perfume and wood, was flooding your senses. Not when you could feel her stern stare, taking you in. Heat filled your senses as you stared back, wondering what was going on inside her head. Was she mad? Did she know? Or maybe...

Fuck.

Could she see how big of a pervert you are?

Closing your book, you looked up at her, pretending to be clueless as to why she approached you. Innocent. Proper. Demure. Opening your mouth, you spoke in a quiet and hushed manner. "Anything you need?"

Her hypnotizingly blue eyes stared down at you a little more, narrowing a little, almost as if looking at you in a demeaning manner. It made you want to shrink in your seat, your very person drowning you in her ocean blue eyes. Your mind was short-circuiting with every millisecond she looked at you. Your heart was probably beating a thousand beats per minute—or maybe not, maybe it already stopped from how hot she was making you.

"I could ask the same to you," she said in a low hushed voice. Her figure leaned forward slightly, making your heart squeeze. "You're staring."

With her words and the masculine huskiness of her voice, your heart started jumping, beat echoing around your ribs.

Oh gosh...your plan was working. She saw you. She fucking saw you.

Your mind was going haywire. Being confronted like this made the ungodly obsession in your little brain run around. This situation shouldn't turn you on but her attention on you was oddly doing just that—even you couldn't understand how.

"Staring..?" you asked her in a tiny confused manner, feigning innocence. You raised an eyebrow, head tilting towards the right slightly. "I was just looking around."

Clicking her tongue, she leaned in a bit closer and scoffed. "Looking around huh?" she repeated, voice indicating that she didn't believe you a single bit. Saliva pooled at the back of your throat at the slight smirk tugging up at the corner of her lips, the appearance looking a bit condescending but it was so damn pretty on her.

"Well if you want to 'look around' I suggest keeping your eyes off from me," she said, the depth of her voice making your heart swell. Leaning in a bit closer, she placed her hand on the table to steady herself before spoke in a low hushed growl, "After all, looking around didn't require both of your 'lips' to be parted."

...

Well shit.

A shot of arousal climbed through your nerves at her words. How could you resist her especially when you knew she had been looking at the eden between your legs. And the sound of her voice? The rough anger in her growl? Incredible. God you love her you love her you love her you love her you love her you love her you love her you love her you love her you love her you love her you love her youloveheryouloveheryouloveheryouloveher—

"Excuse me?!" you muttered, eyes wide open in pretend disbelief from her words. "I do not know what you're talking about but I suggest keeping your odd perversions to yourself."

Mizu continued to scan over your figure before scoffing and stepping back. Something told you that the cerulean in her eyes could see past your professional library assistant front. "The only one with odd perversions is you."

With one last glare, she turned and tidied her things up, stuffing her laptop back in her bag. Her actions screamed of irritation, hand tensing a bit more than usual when she grabbed her things, the way she shoved them in her bag was filled with calm aggression. Your eyes were glued to her figure as you crossed your legs, squeezing them tightly to keep your arousal quelled.

She's right.

You were a pervert. A dirty pervert heavily obsessed with her.

As Mizu left, you finally released the big exhale you didn't realize you were holding. Pressing your hand to your chest, you tried to calm your heart down from the tumbles and knots it jumped itself into. Like her presence had just given you whiplash.

'I need a walk,' you thought to yourself, standing up and almost letting out an audible gasp as you felt the slip between your legs. Fuck, you were so wet.

With the uncomfortable feeling of slick, fabric clinging to your core, and the odd cool sensation brought by your wetness, you took the cart of returned books and decided to go around and place them in their proper place.

Each step you took reminded you of her. Each movement of your legs causing your wetness to spread around in a lewd sense of uncomfortable. Too subtle to give you a reason to go to the comfort room, but too much slip to ignore. Yet somehow, it was turning you on further. Every step felt like this was her punishment for you, for staring so damn much, for being such a slut.

No matter how hard you tried to keep yourself calm and ignore it, you couldn't it. It was there, serving as a reminder on your weak pussy. So fucking pathetic, twitching and throbbing from her basically calling you out on the weirdo you are.

With a deep breath and a small slap to your cheeks, you tried your best to snap out of it and began your task of placing the books in order.

First book...

'But she was staring at me too,' you thought to yourself, perverse excitement bubbling in your heart. 'She stared. She fucking did. How else would she notice my...'

Second book...

Heat ran to your cheeks like water rushing through a shallow river. 'But why was she staring back anyway?'

Third book...

'Could it be?' you thought before gasping and slapping a hand over your mouth. Stopping in your steps, you squeezed your legs subtly as a rush of wetness dripped out of your cunt. Soaked and absolutely weak for her.

Fifth book...

Your mind was simultaneously running and short circuiting, filled with excitement at the thought. 'Shit...has she been staring at me too?'

Eighth book...

You shook your head and scoffed quietly. 'Nooooo! Impossible!' you mentally scolded yourself. 'There's no way. It was a coincidence.' You stared at the book in your hands, mind trying to convince itself that Mizu wouldn't know. 'No way someone as lovely and as cool as her would even notice me. I was probably just very obvious today.'

Seventh book...

Fixing up the books on the shelf, your mind continued to dart to the possibility that what if she knew from the start?

Nononono! Impossible! If she knew from the start, why'd she only confront you now? There was noooo fucking way.

Sixth book...

But the more you thought about it, it really wasn't impossible. Wasn't it? I mean, she knew immediately that you were the one staring. She could've guessed anyone from your general direction right? Haha..But really, a deep part of you wished she really did know. That she was aware of your love for her. That maybe she was in love with you too? Oh fuck what if she was?? Wouldn't that be crazy? You could already see how many kids you'll have, what kind of house you'll live in. Maybe she doesn't like kids. That's fine, you could have pets instead. And you'd have crazy fuckin' sex together every night and she'd shove her long slender fingers inside your throbbing cunt while she chokes you out with her other hand. In any position she wanted. In every fucking place she wanted. And oh gosh, you love her so much you love her so much you love her so much youlovehersomuchyoulovehersomuchyoulovehersomuchyoulovehersomuchyoulovehersomu—

Err...which book are we on?

"Shit," you whispered quietly, eyes scanning the shelf. Your eyebrows furrowed as you read through the tags before running your hand through your hair. "Fuck. I'm so stupid," you muttered quietly, realizing that you placed the books wrongly from how distracted you were.

Sifting through the books again, a soft 'shit' escaped your lips again upon realizing that you left the fourth book in your station. Grumbling slightly, you look around to make sure no one was watching and discretely tugged and readjusted the fabric of your panties before making your way back.

As you walked back, something caught the corner of your eye. A dark blue jacket. With mild curiosity, you approached it before picking it up cautiously. A familiar, addicting scent immediately greeted your senses, almost making your knees go weak.

Upon further inspection, you quickly realized.

Holy shit. This was her's.

It was Mizu's jacket.

Your hands gently caressed the fabric, mind reeling at the fact that it was in your hands. Something that she used regularly. Something that touches her skin regularly. Something that she fucking owns was in your goddamn hands. It felt like some kind of holy grail in your hands.

Quickly, you looked around to see if anyone was watching you and folded it neatly. You're just going to uh...take it to the lost-and-found. Yeah! That's right haha. No one's going to suspect anything, you thought while your feet picked up the pace as you walked back to your station.

Time passed and more people were starting to leave the library. It was near holiday break so no one was around anymore. Around this time, Mizu had decided that it was probably best to go back home, but of course, she had to have her fill of entertainment.

Saying her goodbyes to her friends, she made her way back to the library with the same cold look on her face. The same old glare that effectively made everyone who stared back to turn away. With quiet steps, she entered the library which was already quite dark inside.

Mizu wasn't stupid. Not even a little bit.

She deliberately left her jacket there. Her mind curious to see how far your obsession with her stretched.

You intrigue her.

How you always seemed to be full of her. How you acted uninterested then do something so dirty just from her presence alone. How deep your unhealthy infatuation with her was.

Would you kiss and worship the land she walked on? Would you get on your knees and lick her feet?

Mizu knew she should be creeped out but you were different somehow. Like your infatuation with her entertained her, kept her curious about you.

A slow excited breath stuttered through her nose as she slowly approached the employee's office which was surprisingly unlocked. It was dark and smelled like paperwork and the air conditioning, just like a typical office. The fact that you didn't even bother to lock the door added to her amusement. Were you that much in a hurry?

Her deep blue eyes looked around for a bit before spotting a dim light through the cracks of the employee restroom. The peeks of light escaping drew her in like a moth to a flame. Heartbeat going faster and a rush of excitement tingling at the end of her fingertips.

Walking a little closer, she suddenly froze as she heard a peculiar sound. It almost sounded like a...moan?

"Mmh...fuck," your voice moaned out wantonly, sounding slightly muffled. Small gasps and breathy whines could be heard mixing with the sound of erotic squelching. She slowly moved towards the door, hands almost gripping the wall as she took a peek.

Fuck.

Her eyes widened at the delightful show, heart racing and the heat between her legs growing.

There you were. Sitting on the toilet, legs spread out, skirt hanging off of the toilet paper rack, and your panties dangling from your ankle. Her gaze travelled to your fingers, your index and ring finger spreading your glistening pussy out while your middle finger hurriedly traced circles on your engorged clit.

The pleasured expression on your face was so fucking beautiful. Eyebrows furrowed, eyes squeezed shut, and cheeks flushed pink. A thin sheen of sweat veiled over you, making the sight more scrumptious in her eyes. She could tell with how wet and puffy your cunt was that you've been at it for a while.

But if you had to ask her what the icing on top of the cake was, it was definitely the fact that you were sniffing her jacket.

Like the sweet fragrance of flowers to a honeybee, you became addicted to scent. It wasn't just her perfume, it was everything. The slight smell of her sweat, the faded smell of metal and wood, a slight musk you could only describe as her. It was everything.

You pressed your nose further against her jacket, fingers moving from your clit down to your entrance, encircling the dripping hole before slowly pushing your finger in. Blue orbs watched as your eyes opened slightly, lips parting in a gasp, before your eyes rolled back in pleasure. The volume of your moans growing as you started thrusting your fingers in and out.

Each whiff of her scent made your body tremble in delight, eyes squeezing shut. Your warm, slick walls clenching around your fingers as if they were her's.

You loved it.

You've fingered yourself multiple times to the thought of her before. Various scenarios conjuring in your imagination. Her body on yours, your body on hers, her fucking you angrily, her stuffing you up so good you couldn't even speak, and so much more. And even though the experience itself was already euphoric. This was on a whole new level.

It was so fucking addicting.

Her jacket smelled so good. The scent was so strong, it almost felt like she was the one messing your sopping wet cunt up.

"Oh...oh shit.." you gasped as you curled your fingers in, massaging the gummy walls as they throbbed around your digits. Your fingers picked up the pace, a familiar coil of ecstasy wracking through your body.

Waves upon waves of pleasure washed over you, climax building up to the point of making your head blank. Just as you opened your eyes, through the darkness you felt an invisible yet compelling pull towards the door.

Your eyes widened as they met cerulean. Your breath hitched in between your moans but...you couldn't stop. Not when you were this close.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

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sunfyresrider · 1 year ago

Text

♡My Dear, Don’t Ever Disappear | Neteyam S.

❦Summary: You wake up with a pounding headache and no clue where you are. It’s only after your cries for help your best friend appears. Except… it seems like he’s the reason for all of this.

❦Tags: Stalker!Neteyam - this man is actually crazy, muder🫢, porn w plot, dubcon/noncon, smutty af, kidnapping, pet names, biting, bondage, knifeplay, he loves you in a insane way. Word Count: 3k +

❦Author’s Note: NO PROOFREADING WE RAWDOG THIS! The voices got to me and I made this. Ooc Neteyam for mf sure but it’s just- ugh. My brain couldn’t stop thinking abt it<3

You woke up groggy, the first time you noticed was a severe ache in the back of your skull. What the hell happened? You opened your eyes to find you were not at home, nor in a hospital, you were in a cold concrete room. It had to be the old lab, a basement you hadn’t found yet. Well, that is unspeakably unsettling, you thought to yourself as your heart picked up its pace.

You winced as you tried to sit up, Your whole body was a dull throb, your arms stiff from their position. It took mere moments before you felt the cool touch of metal against your wrists, you tried to move away, but the sounds of chains clinking together gave away that they were keeping you on the floor. Panic slowly begun settling in the pits of your stomach, a looming sense of dread washing over you.

You were just going to work, walking out of base camp, and then nothing. Nothing at all. Trying to remember made your head pound, you didn't know what day it was, the fucking time, or if you were even in the same village. “Hello?”

Your voice echoed against the walls, the only response being the drip drop of water leaking through the walls, you were underground. That much you could tell. As your eyes adjusted to the dim light you noticed another presence, a figure standing at the door with their arms crossed.

“Boo.”

Your body jolted upwards, the chains pulling you back. You felt your blood go cold. They were tall, so tall you could hardly see all of them. You felt like the breath had been knocked out of your lungs, your mouth was dry and you could only stutter as he stepped forward. “No, no, no, no,” you mumbled to yourself, as he crouched down in front of you.

“Don’t fucking touch me! Somebody help! Help,” you screamed at the top of your lungs, the man didn't seem perturbed at all by your cries. “My Ewya, you’re loud,” he reached up, pulling the sloppily fashioned skull mask from his face. “Neteyam?!” You were baffled. Why was Neteyam here? This wasn’t some sick joke was it?

“Thank god you’re awake,” he sighed, his hand moving to push your hair out of your face. His fingers brushed against the gash on your forehead, causing you to wince. “I thought I hit your pretty little head too hard and put you in a coma.” His fingers trailed down the side of your face, his thumb swiping against your bottom lip, and you couldn't help but recoil. There was something different about him, he wasn't the same Neteyam that was so sweet to you.

“Neteyam what the fuck are you-” you were cut off by his voice, a crazed smile spreading across his face. “Surprise!” He yelled, throwing his hands up, he seemed ecstatic, and you had never felt more terrified. “I really wanted to do this differently, honestly, but it was so hard to get you alone.”

You could only stare, not wanting to say a word, the silence making your throat tighten. Neteyam looked down, his fingers tapping on his knees. You had never seen him like this before, his normal cheery and kind nature completely gone.“I-if Kyle finds out-”

Neteyam’s change in expression cut you off quickly, his eyes changing into something dark, his brow furrowing as his lip curled into a snarl. You swallowed thickly, not sure how to handle him, or the situation. “And what the fuck will a human named Kyle do to me? For Ewya’s sake I do not understand your obsession with this creature. He is weak, frail, short, pale skinned and so stupid.”

For just a moment you had a mere second to think and you were insulted on Kyle’s behalf. Yes, he wasn’t as tall as Neteyam or buff or particularly attractive but he was human. Neteyam huffed, his hand reaching up to pull your face towards him.

You were pulled back into reality as his fingers touched you, you were so pathetically helpless, chained to the ground, and at his mercy. His thumb rubbed along your cheek, and his eyes narrowed on yours. “It’s doesn’t matter now, yawne. I took care of him.”

Your blood ran cold, a sudden fear that he was speaking the truth, It made you want to vomit, a horrible pit forming in your stomach. But the way he said it, like he was proud of his actions, the look in his eyes as he stared down at you, it all made your heart drop. “You’re insane!”

“Only for you,” his smile reached both ears, a look that made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. Your heart beat wildly in your chest, and your eyes started to water, your brain running a million miles a minute trying to come up with a solution, but nothing came. Neteyam leaned down, placing a kiss against your forehead.

It was… Oddly comforting, unnervingly soft. The way his lips felt against your skin was a stark contrast to his behavior, it was almost loving. “you’re so pretty when you cry, yawne,” his breath was hot on your skin, his voice soft, and it made your skin crawl.

“Fuck you, Neteyam.” You tried to turn away, but his grip tightened on your jaw, keeping you firmly in place, the chains digging into your wrists. You didn't want to look at him, and you certainly didn't want him looking at you. “You’ve read my mind, pretty.” You tried to squirm, and pull away, the chains biting into your skin and cutting into the delicate flesh. Your hands were numb from being locked in place, the muscles tensing and relaxing with the blood circulation.

“I really wish we could have done this in a nicer way… but you are so hardheaded. I was so nice, I did everything in the world to impress you... and not once did you notice me.” Neteyam unsheathed a blade you didn’t realize he was carrying, the metal glistening in the dim light. You felt tears well up in the corners of your eyes, the sight of it alone making your stomach flip, a knot forming deep within you.

The chains rattled as you squirmed, his grip tight on your chin. The metal slid across the delicate flesh of your jaw, it was cold to the touch and sent endless shivers down your spine. Neteyam traced his way down your neck, slowly running down your chest, stopping just before he reached your top. “I’ve dreamt of this for so long… of you, without these ugly human clothes, beneath me, whimpering and crying, of me, inside you... of you saying my name.”

A new feeling began creeping into your thoughts, it wasn't fear or panic, but something else entirely. His words, his voice, everything was too much, and it was beginning to make your head spin. Neteyam moved it slowly, slicing the fabric from the front of your chest, the knife easily cutting through the fabric of your blouse and bra. You didn't notice the cold air hitting the exposed skin, and all you could think of was his dagger as it trailed down your abdomen.

He let out a guttural growl as he stared down at you, his eyes transforming into something more animalistic. “You’re so perfect. I should have killed Kyle sooner…” Your core began to warm, a heat growing deep within your belly as his eyes roamed over your body, a new wave of shame and humiliation washing over you. This was turning you on, which was completely repulsive considering the situation.

Neteyam slid the knife along the inner part of your thigh, the sharp edge scraping against the supple skin, making you gasp. He took his time cutting the fabric, his movements precise, and careful, his gaze focused on the task at hand. Neteyam let out a sort of chuckle, pausing his movements as he gazed up at you, a curious look in his eye. “You like this don’t you?”

The next words came out as a stuttered, incoherent mess of denial. “N-no- you’re c-crazy! I hate you.” His blade sliced the thin string of fabric between your legs, cutting the material with ease. “Don’t lie to me, pet. I can smell you.” You bit your lip, not daring to make eye contact. The blade pressed against the inside of your thighs, dangerously close to your heat, and you felt your legs twitch.

You didn't understand this, the way the knife made your pulse race, the way his fingers danced across your skin made you burn. His hand moved slowly, the blade pressed against your skin, the metal cool against your warmth. You felt the knife drag, and you bit down harder on your lip, trying not to show any sort of reaction, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

Neteyam moved the knife upward, dragging the metal against your gaped lips, the smoothness of the blade making your core tighten. Your mind was swimming, unable to concentrate, the blade was pressing harder, the sharp point breaking the delicate skin. A drop of blood seeped through, and Neteyam's eyes seemed to glow, his mouth hung open slightly.

Neteyam dropped the blade, the clatter echoing through the small room, his lips reaching out to touch the wound, a small red spot where the knife had been pressed. If there was any blood, it was washed away as his tongue lashed out, cleaning the area with long, slow movements.

Your mouth opened slightly, and a small whine escaped. Neteyam chuckled into your mouth, his hand snaking up your body to grasp at your throat. You couldn't help but moan softly, as his grip tightened around your windpipe, constricting your airways.

“You’re an ass,” you hissed, his hand loosening. You had a feeling the knife had been a trick, the way he had played it up and teased, the way he had made you feel. It wasn't a true threat, and he knew it. “Oh, you don’t want to play nice anymore? He pulled the chains that binged your wrists to the wall, yanking you out of position with a yelp. Neteyam pulled you so your face was mere inches from his, “ I see you, pet. I can be meaner, hm?"

You realized in this moment how his strength truly outmatched yours, his arms easily forcing you onto the ground. You tried to pull away, the cold floor biting at the bare skin of your back. Neteyam leaned down, forcing his mouth onto yours,his tongue slipping past your lips and into your mouth. You couldn't help but let out a muffled groan, the taste of blood lingering on his tongue.

His hands groped at the bare skin of your hips, his touch sending waves of heat throughout your body. He kissed you with an urgency, like he was starving for it, his teeth tugging on your lip. The sensation made a low groan slip past your lips, and his lips curled into a wicked smile. Neteyam’s tongue slipped out of your mouth, moving down your neck, his sharp teeth nibbling at your skin.

You felt your body begin to react, your blood pulsing, your chest heaving with each labored breath. It was disgusting, and humiliating. You were completely under his control, and you could do nothing about it. You could only watch as his hands wandered, as he moved his tongue down the front of your chest, the feeling of his dangling braids tickling your flesh. And for some reason, not even ewya could explain, you were enjoying it.

His lips wrapped around one of your breasts, his hot tongue gliding over the flesh. You threw your head back, moaning softly, his tongue flicking over the sensitive tip, his teeth lightly nibbling at the sensitive skin. Neteyam let out a deep groan, his mouth closing over it. You were so absorbed in what his tongue was doing to you, you failed to notice his hand slipping between your thighs.

You let out a strangled moan, as his long fingers brushed against your dripping folds. Your eyes snapped open, the sensation was so foreign. He slid a finger inside, pumping it slowly, his thumb circling around the sensitive bud. It felt incredible, and you hated that, the pleasure washing over you.

You could hear Neteyam let out a chuckle, the sound vibrating through his lips. "Look how wet you are, pet." He began forcing in another finger, stretching you out and filling you with a burning heat. You felt your eyes roll back, letting out a soft mewl, the sound of him thrusting into you echoed through the room.

"M-more, please," you begged, his fingers moving faster, the feeling overwhelming, making you squirm. "Please, more," you panted, your pussy beginning to clench around his fingers. “Beg louder.” Neteyam's hand gripped tighter around your neck, his fingers forcing themselves deeper, stretching you.

You could feel a coil building up inside, the sensation was too much, and you were so close. “Splease, Sso good,” you slurred. Neteyam proded at the spongy spot inside you, making the coil tighten further, your walls starting to quiver around him. “P-please! Teyam please!”

Neteyam pulled his fingers out suddenly, your orgasm being cut off immediately. You let out a loud whine, a pitiful plea to keep going, his fingers leaving a trail of your own slick as they moved up. Then, he slapped you clean across the face.The sound echoed through the room, and you felt your whole body tense up. The force of the impact was surprising, and it was quickly followed by a painful stinging.

"You thought I was going to let you cum so easily? After the attitude you’ve had all night? No way, brat, I’m going to ruin you first." Neteyam was so calm, his voice so collected, it was almost unnerving. You were stunned, obscenely horny, and mildly terrified of the monster in front of you.

He sat back, admiring his handiwork. You were spread out, bound, and completely nude. Your eyes met his, and a dark laugh bubbled up in his throat. "you should see yourself," he cooed. “You look so pretty all disheveled for me.”

Neteyam leaned forward, his long, deft fingers wrapping around your throat, forcing you up, the chains chafing the delicate skin. His mouth connected with yours, the kiss more heated than the others, his teeth tugging at your bottom lip. You could feel his excitement through his loincloth, the heat radiating off of him, his length straining against the fabric.

The sudden shift in emotions made you dizzy, his touch becoming rough, and violent. Then twisting into slow and sensual, the way his tongue gilded against yours, the way his lips moved expertly against yours, the way his hands moved along your body. "I'm going to mark the fuck out of you so no man ever comes near you again.”

Neteyam grasped at your hips, proving his superior strength by flipping you over with ease. One of his large hands wrapped into your hair, the other pulling your ass up so you could feel him. He was undeniably huge, so thick, and in no way was he going to fit inside you. The sensation alone made you whimper, and it only got worse as he rubbed himself against you.

The sound of him unfastening his cloth, the jingling of his jewelry was enough to make your core tighten. His cock slipped between your folds, the head rubbing against your clit. Neteyam let out a low growl, the feeling of him making you shudder, his hands gripping the back of your neck.

Neteyam forced himself inside of you, the sudden intrusion making you scream out, and tears well up in the corners of your eyes. He was impossibly big, filling you entirely, stretching you. You let out a series of broken moans, as he slid out only to thrust back inside. Neteyam's free hand slid down your spine, his fingers gently caressing your back, before he slapped your ass.

“That’s it, baby. Keep screaming my name just like that.” Neteyam's voice was strained, the words coming out like a hiss. His grip tightened on the base of your neck, holding you firmly in place, while his hips pounded against you. The sounds of his body hitting yours echoed through the room, his cock stretching you with each thrust.

He wasn't going easy, "F-fuck me!” you cried out, as his cock grazed your g-spot. Neteyam dropped his head into the crook of your neck, his teeth leaving an imprint, his hands holding you down, his body flush against you.

The knot began to build once more, and Neteyam picked up his pace, fucking into you with reckless abandon. You moaned and whimpered, unable to stop the obscene noises that fell from your lips. His heavy panting sent chills down your spine.

Neteyam let out a deep, animalistic growl, his nails digging into the soft flesh of your hips, his teeth biting into your shoulder. "You feel so good around me, baby.” His cock throbbed inside you, his tip pounded at your cervix. You felt your pussy clamp around him, the feeling making Neteyam's hips jerk, and you let out a loud, pleasured wail.

You were so close, and the knot in your belly was tightening. “Please can I cum?!” You yelled out. Neteyam pulled himself from the warmth of your body, and you could hear his breathing turn ragged. “No no no, I have to see you.”

You didn't have to wait long, Neteyam flipped you onto your back, and his lips met yours. You felt his cock press against your folds, the head of him pushing past the entrance. His lips attached themselves to the side of your neck, his hands sliding up your chest to wrap around your throat.

Neteyam's hips met yours, his cock pounding inside you, “keep begging, yawne.” His long fingers moved to circle your clit, his thumb rolling the sensitive nub, making your eyes roll back. “Please, Neteyam,” you cried, “sgood, please can I cum!”

"Are you going to be a good little girl from now on?" Neteyam hissed, his fingers moving faster. You nodded, as you let out a low cry, "y-yes! P please, I’ll be good! You were on the verge of tears, your mind clouded. Neteyam let out a guttural groan, his pace picking up but his movements getting progressively sloppy.

Your legs began to shake, the knot was beginning to unravel. Neteyam's cock throbbed inside you, and you knew he was getting close too. "i-im gonna-" His fingers curled around your throat, stopping your sentence. “Cum on this dick like a good pet.”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, your body started to convulse, your muscles tensing, and then unraveling. Your orgasm ripped through you, causing you to thrash, and scream. You felt your pussy clench tightly around his length, the euphoria making your mind hazy. Neteyam's body trembled, his cock twitching as he spilled inside you. His seed filled you entirely, warming your belly, and dripping out onto your thighs as he pulled out slowly.

You were spent, too weak to move and too dazed to think straight. Time passed fast, the loss of his body heat lost in your head. You felt him shift beside you, his head dangling over yours as he peppered kisses onto your face. “You’re so pretty all fucked out…” he cooed, his hand gently rubbing your head.

You murmured something in reply, not fully hearing what he was saying. “I’m so happy you’re here with me, yawne.”Neteyam spoke, his voice soft. You heard his voice echo through the room, the words becoming jumbled as sleep overtook you. He continued petting your hair, watching you sleep peacefully. This was nice, harder than he expected, but it was nice.

“And you’re going to be here with me forever…”

My beloveds - @xylianasblog @strongheartneteyam @criticallybella

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