#don't breathe x reader

[im-his-druidess]

Excuse the depraved thinking here but I just had to share this little "thought" with you...

Being in Norman's care (i.e. locked up in his fuck-nest) and having to watch him...umm...re-fill the specimen containers he keeps in that little freezer.

Hearing his growling and groaning, maybe grunted curses as he works himself, and you are strung up and utterly helpless to do anything else but watch him...

This is a slasher blog. All depravity is welcome 😘

Ooohhh I like where you going with this, Nonnie! And I also love the term "fuck-nest" 🥵

But just imagine hanging there, helpless and unable to move an inch, and not only can you see him jerking himself off but you can hear it too. His low grunts, panting breath, and raspy moans. The way he outright growls when he squeezes the fat head of his cock on every upstroke. And then you watch as his hips jerk and the way his back arches. The way his muscles flex and strain as he pumps himself. (He might even get a little "assistance" by using your underwear. Either wrapped around his cock or pressed against his face 👀)

Then he's coming with a rough guttural noise that both drags against your eardrums and send goosebumps across your skin. He's panting and cursing, the sound of skin slick against skin loud and lewd and makes your own hips jerk in response.

Of course, since the "batch" is so...fresh...he'll want to immediately put it to use 😌

[nariism]

you're mad at him.

you're mad at him and he knows it. you've been giving wriothesley the silent treatment ever since you arrived at the fortress of meropide, bandages in hand and a flurry of curses erupting nonstop from your mouth.

not a single word has been uttered between you since you sat him down in his office. despite refusing to speak to him, much less look him in the eye, you're dutifully bandaging up his raw knuckles like you remember sigewinne showing you back when she decided to go on vacation.

"it's very easy," her voice rings in your ears. you bite your tongue to prevent yourself from snarking back at her imaginary presence.

you only hoped she was enjoying herself up on the surface, accompanying neuvillette for the first time in ages. while she absolutely did deserve a vacation, you wished that she had given wriothesley a stern set of instructions to take care of himself in her absence.

if she did, maybe you wouldn't have had to come all the way down here just to witness him in such a state. your poor heart can't take this kind of worry.

the warden has come out the pankration the most unscathed, only sporting a split lip and bloody nose. his knuckles are red and cut, but it's nothing in comparison to the two inmates who had decided it was a good idea to incite a riot in what should be a controlled environment of the prison.

physically, he's fine. emotionally, he's having a complete meltdown.

he can't take this silence anymore; can't bear having you be upset with him, knowing that he should have been more careful about rushing in to stop the riot himself. the prison is crawling with guards for a reason, yet in his haste he decided it would be faster to intervene alone.

"hey," wriothesley calls out softly, timid despite his looming presence over you. "i didn't mean to worry you or–"

"why can't you be more careful?" you suddenly interrupt, voice cracking weakly. you gaze up from where you're kneeling on the floor, bandages halting in the air while you challenge him with your eyes. "don't you know how stupid and reckless that was?"

he holds your stare for a few moments, stunned by your sudden rebuttal. and then you tear your eyes away from his again, focusing back on tenderly wrapping up his hand.

"you always make me so worried staying down here day and night," you continue, voice so quiet he can barely make out your words.

"i'm sorry," he tells you earnestly.

"i know you're strong. i know it. but you're not invincible. would it kill you to cherish your life a little more?"

"i'm sorry," he says again.

you falter, a sigh escaping you as you peer up at him again. there's something softer in the way you look at him now, with all your frustration melting away into concern. you rummage through your bag for a wet wipe before standing to cradle his face.

wriothesley can't breathe when you're being so gentle with him. his hands find your waist and squeeze it to draw you even closer, until he can almost rest his head against your stomach.

"i love you," you finally tell him, and he feels the relief wash over him. "i can't stand seeing you hurt, so please be more careful."

you swipe the cloth under his nose a few times, gently dabbing at the skin and cleaning up the blood that has dried there. his steely eyes drift shut under your warm touch, allowing you to clean his face. when he only nods in response, your hand stops.

"promise me."

he looks at you again, a brow raised at your stern tone. but he would always relent to you, no matter what it is you wanted.

"i promise."

you blink down at him for a second, taking in how beautiful he is underneath his bloody nose. finally, you lean down to kiss the top of his head— a gesture of forgiveness and love that he's grown so accustomed to.

there's sunshine in your smile when you pull away from him to discard the used wipe, all previous signs of anguish gone from your expression.

his heart nearly stops at the sight.

you were right. he should cherish himself more. he can't stand seeing you fret over him even if it is a little endearing.

for now, he'll just enjoy having you take care of him. it's been so long since he returned to the surface, all he wants to do right now is bask in the light you bring down here with you.

"oh nurse," he teases, giving your hips another squeeze. "my lip got busted, too. got a remedy?"

you roll your eyes but press a kiss to his lips anyways.

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[princess-of-thebes-1995]

Part 2 of the one shot.

Warning. Smut!

Yandere Norman Nordstrom x Younger Female Reader

Kidnapping and obsessive love.

Romance. Women loves romance. Norm smiled at the thought of you blushing and giggling. Maybe if he goes to the store and gets some fresh red roses. He doesn't use candles since he doesn't really care about perfume scented air much. So, he should get some too at the arts and crafts store.

Watermelon or strawberry scented candles. Both would be nice. Nodding in determination, Norm sat inside his Lamborghini and then suddenly an emergency alert came from his cell phone. Out of fear, it showed you running away from the mansion as you destroyed the bathroom window. All his windows were bullet proof except the window in the bathrooms because sometimes his security dogs would jump over them to come inside the mansion.

You slick cunning cock!

Gritting his straight teeth in anger, Norm drove as fast as he could while watching his cellphone screen. You were running across his large front garden so you can reach his neighbor's mansion.

He can make it. He then realized how dark it was and that the full moon gave him advantage to spot you from the distance.

Ungrateful bitch. He didn't rape you or hit you minus the times you attacked him. Like biting his tongue when he was trying to French kiss you. Or when you kneed him in the balls. Ouch. That Fuckin' hurt. It didn't hurt as much as the pain inside his chest. You broke his heart again.

You collapsed on your knees from all the running. Tch. Pathetic Norm thought. You were so damn spoiled and weak that you never exercised unlike him. You were not averagely healthy or athletic. He doesn't need his car. Norm turned off his car and jumped out and ran at full speed.

"Huh?" You looked over your delicate and frail shoulder to see your kidnapper! How did he find out?

You tried to get up but he tackled your lithe and supple body hard against the grass floor hard. You tried to scream but suddenly, he slapped you!

You yelped in pain and then stared up to see his handsome face looking at you in anger.

You clutched your face despite making the pain worse. You froze your resistance and then silently sobbed. You didn't want to make him more mad by crying loud so you tried to hide your hiccups but it was no use

Norm's beautiful blue eyes widened in shock. He stared at the back of his hand in disbelief. He hit a woman and not only that. The woman he loved.

He watched in pity as you slumped and didn't fight back as you cradled your injured cheek. If he wasn't sure ashamed of his harshness he would have thought of you trying to be quiet from crying oddly cute.

But, now he felt regret. Without a word, he slung you over his muscular shoulder like a sack of potatoes and you didn't kick or wiggled like the previous times you ran away but was captured.

You gave up.

And he knew.

He didn't mean to break your spirit. But, you were so scared to give him a chance. That was all he wanted.

He went to the entrance of his mansion greenhouse at the center of his front yard garden. He kicked the door open and slammed you down on the floor to sit on your ass. You hissed in pain.

You looked up to see his powerful figure fuming and looking down on you. "Why?" He hissed through his teeth. "I gave you all my love yet you reject me. Why do you resist me? I'd die for you."

Your lips trembled in fear. Norm wasn't having it. He clenched his jaw.

"Why!?" He roared.

You flinched. "I..." You hiccuped and felt tears down your beautiful sculpted cheekbones. "I can't love someone I fear."

You saw that your words hurt him. A Navy Seal was wounded by a weak and spoiled lady like yourself. How strange.

"You don't get it, do you?" Norm's voice cracked as he looked away for a second and then you saw his saddened expression. Your heart burned at the sight.

"I love you, Dammit!" He punched the glass wall of the greenhouse. You yelped. You saw the glass shatter and his fist bloodied. "My life was better before I realized you exist. You ruined my life!"

You sniffed. "I am sorry, Norm." You looked at the ground.

Norm sighed in exhaustion. He then crouched down on one knee to your level and grabbed your chin gently despite smearing your chin with his blood from his injured fist.

You blinked in curiosity. He smiled a little as he unbuttoned his shirt. You couldn't help but stare. His top body was carved like Roman sculptors of Ancient Greek Gods. Ares especially. The God of war.

Holy shit.

You ogled. Norm liked that look on you. He knew you were getting horny. But his body was not all he had to offer you.

There across his chest was bold calligraphy letters of your name. How long was it there?

He did all this for you? He was serious about you.

He grabbed your hand gently and placed it over his heart.

It was dominant and strong like his body and personality.

"I can't control the pace of my heart whenever I think of you. Pity me at least." He pleaded you with large puppy blue eyes.

You felt your womanhood wetten and your throat dry. Is this love?

Norm was waiting for your response. To his surprise and pleasure you leaned your beautiful face close to his pink dry lips.

"Same." You whispered.

Norm couldn't believe his ears. This was a dream come true. You kissed him. Holy shit.

Without a second, Norm kissed back with fever and he grabbed your head and lashed his tongue inside your mouth.

"You're mine now." He ripped your nightgown off. Surrounded by plants in the open air being watched by the full moon was a fairy tale where you lost your first time.

After done, Norm carried you bridal style to the bedroom he shared with you and while you were spent, he drove to the emergency room for stitches.

[a-mint-bear]

Yandere Girl Types

The Super Fan

● She can't help but trail after you like a lovesick puppy. She looks at you and everything you do with the rosiest of rose-colored glasses. Whether you're the talented type or just an average person, she looks at you like you are her everything, because you are!

● Whenever you're together, she's a little clingy. But it's nice to have someone who likes you as much as she does. It makes you feel special, wanted. She's not shy about making the first move, and she's especially not shy about telling you how she feels. But she makes sure you know that you don't have to say it back if you're not there yet. She knows you will though. Soon.

● She sits and smiles at the pictures of you all over her room. Anything you've touched, she considers her greatest treasures. She saw you drop your favorite pen one day and meant to give it back to you, honest. But the moment she touched it, it was like something came over her. She stuffed it in her bag and took it home, and ever since, she can't help but take your things. Especially the stuff that smells like you. She keeps taking more and more of your things, but it's not enough. It's never enough...

● She makes copies of your keys when you "lose" them on day. At first, it's just to sneak into your place and take things she can't get otherwise, but it quickly escalates. She lets herself in and plays house, imagining your life together. Soon, she's watching you sleep and even lies down next to you, just for a little bit. She wants to touch you so badly...

● She wonders... if you woke up, would you smile like you always do? Would you hold her close? Would you be hers?

The Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

● On the outside, she's the nicest girl. Whenever you see her, she's always got a sweet smile on her face and is always willing to help you if it means she gets to spend a little more time with you. You think of her as the kind and generous type, but she doesn’t extend this behavior to anyone but you.

● She doesn't really seem interested in dating. Anyone who actually has asked her out gets turned down gently. But a few of them swear they could see a look of disgust flash across her face for just a second before the rejection, but they always thought they just imagined it. In reality, there's only one person on her mind, so no one else can even compare.

● No one sees the other side of her. The way she stares down the girl who always laughs at your jokes. How she swears under her breath when she sees how your best guy friend just casually touches your arm, how her nails dig into the palms of her hands until they bleed. But when your eyes meet hers, you’d never guess the things she’d just been imagining.

● She hears a rumor that someone is going to ask you out. At first, she just plans to put them in their place and remind them that you deserve better, maybe just harass them or scare them. Or maybe ruining their life a little, poisoning their friends against them or getting them fired. But the thought of them getting pity from you or running to you and telling you how she acts when you’re not around… The thought of you holding them close, telling them you how much you love them... Something in her just snaps. She catches them when they're isolated and gets rid of them. Nothing can ever be traced back to her.

● She can't risk you seeing her in a bad light, even if it's so the two of you can be together. Everything she does, it's all for you!

The Secret Admirer

● She's had a rough home life. She has no one in her corner, no one's been there for her. She doesnt have anyone she can call her own. Until she sees you for the first time. Something about you is just... right. You fill that empty spot she's felt her entire life and the thought of you is the only thing that makes life worthwhile.

● She's quiet, reserved, and always looking your way. You can feel someone watching you sometimes, but when you turn around, no one's there. You don't connect it to the girl you've seen around lately. It doesn’t matter to her how you treat her, whether you say hello, smile politely, or give her a look for staring. Any attention, good or bad, is everything to her. You're everything to her. But she can't tell you, not yet. If she messes it up, if you reject her... She couldn't live with that.

● You start noticing things. Little gifts someone has left you, sometimes snacks and treats. The book you've been reading suddenly has a pressed flower inside the front cover, baby's breath. You find love notes in your bag. Some are flowery poetry, others get a little steamy, but it's all a bit clumsy, somehow. At first you think it might be one of your friends pranking you, but no one you know would pull something like this. Maybe someone actually has a thing for you? But how are you supposed to respond when there's no way to give anyone an actual answer? You decide to just ignore it until this person actually decides to meet you face to face.

● You don't smile when you see her gifts anymore. The notes she pours her heart into get left where you find them. Seeing you just walk away when she does something for you shatters her. Love her, hate her, anything! Just don't ignore her!! Without you, she has nothing to live for... Please... Don't leave her behind. Through her tears, her agony turns to desperation.

● You can't get rid of her. She won't let you. Maybe... it's time for you to meet.

The Boss Lady

● You've been working under her for the last few years. She's powerful, she's beautiful, and so very, very intimidating. She gets what she wants, no matter who she has to step on. She seems to have locked onto you for some reason, having you run and get her things and having you stay and work overtime.

● She seems to like running you ragged and seeing you flustered. You have half a mind to believe that she’s been “accidentally” brushing up against you reaching for files or leaning to talk in your ear as you sit at your desk, her charming, sultry voice sending shivers up your spine. Your damn body is betraying you. You don’t want to think that damn tyrant is attractive! Your coworkers are jealous that you're spending so much time with her, but you think they'd think twice if they were the ones picking up her dry cleaning and coffee orders, day in and day out. You tell a coworker you'd quit, but you need the money too much.

● One day, she calls you into her office. She says she has a proposition for you. She wants you to be her executive assistant. It comes with great benefits and a HUGE pay raise. The work will be harder, sure, but you'd have to be an idiot to say no. But the conditions get more specific and odd. You would accompany her on all her business trips, eat all your meals with her, you'd even be living in her penthouse suite. At first, you think it's just a weirdly intensive position, she just needs someone to manage her life. But the way she's looking at you... it's like she wants to possess you entirely.

● All you can think to ask is, why you? There's a bored look on her face as she starts talking about her career. How her job and climbing the corporate ladder were the only things she put any effort into. Everything else was so tedious and dull. Until you started as an intern, dropping off her coffee order with that nervous smile. She started noticing how hard you work, how you never turn down her requests, how you try to hide your smile when she praises you... How your breath hitches when her hand brushes yours. And how, every day when you clock out, her world stagnates until she sees you again.

● Say yes, and you'll have everything you could ever want. But make no mistake, you'll be hers. And she has no plans to let you go.

[slxsherwriter]

Out of Trauma Comes....

Fandom: Don't Breathe

Pairing: Norman Nordstrom x reader

Warnings: Child death, loss of limbs, ptsd struggles

Word Count: 4,076

Author's Note: I have fallen down the Stephan Lang rabbit hole. This is the first in a series of Norman one-shots. Reader does have a military background. This decision was based off of the relationship that Norman had with Hernandez in the second movie. Hope everyone likes! As always, not beta read, so mistakes are mine.

You woke with a start, gasping for breath that wouldn't seem to fill your lungs. For several agonizing seconds, it felt like it would never happen before finally, your body kickstarted itself. The silence of the room was only broken by the brief choking gasps of air as you tried to regulate your breathing. Then your ears registered the frantic beeping of a heart rate monitor. Your own. Forcing yourself to take a few slower breaths, it calmed down as you managed. Stiffness below reminded you that you were stuck in a hospital bed. Right. The accident. 

With a grimace, you forced yourself into a seated position. The pain was a worthy distraction, taking your mind off the vivid flashbacks that played before your eyes. Like a bad horror movie that you couldn't pause. 

A nurse came in, far more quickly than they had the past three weeks. Must have been fewer patients on the floor for them to monitor. When you had first arrived four weeks ago, despite your status, it had taken time for them to show up. 

“Everything okay?” No, nothing was okay in the least about the entire situation. Swallowing down the words, you found yourself giving a shaky smile. 

“Yeah, fine. Just a bad dream.” PTSD. Post traumatic stress disorder, that's what it was. You knew well enough to recognize the signs after seeing some of your closest brothers go through the same thing. “Sorry, didn't mean to cause any worry.” She gave you a softer smile, one that felt like pity. You hated every second of it. Of all of this, if you were honest. You wanted to be back home, away from the world and everyone in it. Why should you have lived?

 “Not a problem at all.” She checked over your IV line and monitor before moving to the door, taking her leave. But before she fully left, she looked over her shoulder. “From what I heard, you're getting out of here tomorrow.” There may not have been a God but that news could have brought you to belief. 

“Thanks…for everything.” 

*****

Using the crutches to get into your home, you grunted with the effort. The cracked ribs were healing and could bear the brunt of your weight with some protest and discomfort but you weren't hanging around any longer than absolutely necessary. 

A chill ran down your spine and the urge to look at the street was almost overwhelming. But you knew what you would find there if you did. Just repeated flashes of blood, broken glass, and phantom pains. Unconsciously, your jaw had started to clench, something you only realize when you heard a small crack. 

“Fuck.” The word bounced through the empty house. A slow sigh and you were moving to the staircase. Life now had a whole new set of obstacles and challenges. Ones that you couldn't have ever dreamed of if one were to ask you. Yet, here you were. “Don't have a fucking pity party now. Get your ass up the stairs so you can take a proper shower. Then, you can check on Norman.” it was the right thing to do. You had heard from your older neighbor just once in the entire time you had been in the hospital. Understandable, given the circumstances and what he had to be dealing with, but it didn't quell the drive to follow up. Having been a neighbor for the better part of five years now, you had grown close to Norman and Emma. Just the thought of the girl was enough to constrict your throat and threaten to have tears spilling from your eyes once more. 

White knuckling the crutches, you slowly made your way up the stairs. It was both painstaking and painful but there was a small sense of accomplishment when you hit the top landing. One thing out of the way, many many more to come. No use in getting too excited over it all just yet. The shower was the next thing to tackle. 

***********

Having only fallen once, the shower could be considered a success. Dressing wasn't as difficult as anticipated, the bed that you had easy to get on and off of with the wall right there that you could brace yourself against. Now, down the stairs? That was a whole other ballgame. Slow, very slowly, you worked down each step. It probably would have been easier to admit defeat and go down on your ass but that stubborness that often got you in trouble decided to rear it's head. This was life now so it wasn't like something that you wouldn't have to get used to. Might as well start that right now.

The shower made you feel a bit better. Something about being able to shower at home, in your own space, with your typical washes and shampoos just did something different than when you were stuck showering in a hospital. While you still were in tremendous discomfort that bordered on pain that was barely tolerable, you still felt better. Plus, being out of those hospital clothes just helped give a little mental boost. 

Tossing a jacket over your shoulders, you opened the door with a slow breath. The street was quiet, just as it often was. There were so few left in this neighborhood, the stranglehold of the economic crisis squeezing life out of Detroit day by day. Those that remained were too headstrong to go more than anything else. You and the man across the street had that in common. Not the only thing. The memory that came of the first meeting had you wanting to laugh. It was either laugh or break out into tears because the bad came rushing hard. Shaking away the thoughts as if the physical action could dislodge and remove those mental images. 

The walk across the street didn't take too long, though getting up his steps took a few moments. It seemed that Shadow knew of the presence on the porch before you could even knock. The bark that came from inside was excitement, something recognizable and in a way somewhat comforting. It was normal. Routine. Despite the fact that nothing about this would ever be the normal that you both once knew. There was no answer to the rap of knuckles against the wood. Not for a minute. Or five. 

A part of you wondered if you should just leave him be. You had your own trauma from the entire thing but his loss was so much greater than your own. A leg compared to a child? No comparison. Still, something rolled in your gut at the thought of leaving Norman to his misery, grief, and pain. You had been alone in the hospital. Being alone and isolated was never good. So, that thought made you knock again and call out. 

“Norman?” Your voice nearly cracked and you had to take a second to take in a breath. The situation called for composure. Letting your own emotions shine through wouldn't help the moment at all. “I'm sure you don't want to see anyone right now…” What words were supposed to be spoken for this sort of thing? Huffing out in frustration, you stared at the door. 

“Can you please let me in? You don't have to talk. I know you aren't alright, I wouldn't expect you to be but seeing you would at least settle my own mind. Please?” Maybe appealing to that part of him would get the older man to agree. Another few moments passed, bringing about a sense of defeat. This wasn't something to barrel through, to hit head on like a bull in a china shop. If Norman didn't want to see anyone,you couldn't force your presence upon him. At least not with his house closed up like this. Just as you were getting ready to turn around, locks disengaging rang out and the door opened. Shadow's bark was significantly louder, the thump of his tail against the door frame audible. 

He looked rough, like he hadn't been sleeping. Something that was relatable. More than that, it was in the way that he held himself. A man defeated had a certain posture after all. An awkward silence fell over the two of you as you stood there before the door opened a bit more and he stepped to the side, a silent signal to come inside. The crutches hopefully made enough noise for him to be able to keep his feet out of the way as you entered the home, as mindful of where you were placing them as you could be. The last thing that was needed was for you to cause a physical injury to the man. 

“When did you get home?” 

“Today.” A grunt was the response that you got and honestly, you hadn't expected much more. The house was dark, though it didn't matter much to Norman and you weren't going to say a damn thing. He led you to the kitchen, where he was having some coffee from the smell that lingered in the air. 

“They have her in jail.” That perked your ears up as you eased yourself into the seat. Crutches were kept close by just in case quick movement was needed.

“Good.” Your voice had come out firmer than intended. But really, it was where the young woman deserved to be. She had killed someone, not just someone but a child. All because she had been stupid about drinking and driving. Frankly, at this rate, she shouldn't leave. Two lives permanently altered in ways that could never be repaired by one decision of a third party. Maybe it would have been just injuries to you and Emma if you had moved faster. Hurling your body in the way of the oncoming car in an attempt to get the girl out of the way or at least shield her to some degree had been an instant reaction. If only it would have worked. 

Clearing your throat a little, you tried to shrug off the anger that had been growing in presence day after day for the last two weeks. “It's no less than deserved. The police hadn't been by to talk much to me besides that first week I was actually conscious. I've been a bit out of the loop on what is happening.” The idea of checking your phone had fallen to the wayside in the focus of getting ready to leave the hospital. He set a cup of coffee down in front of you without having asked. The warmth of the cup seeped into your chilled hands, causing you to close your eyes for just one moment. 

“She'll rot in jail.” She better. But it wasn't like a trial was going to happen any time soon. Those things took time. An extended amount of time, with additional suffering to come for the both of you. Norman fell silent for a long while, staring off in that unseeing fashion of his, eyes seemingly focused just above your right shoulder. What more was there to say?  “You're on crutches.” An observation without any real direction.

“Yep.”

“They wouldn't give you a prosthetic?” 

“I opted not to get one right away. Getting out of there and home was more important to me. I have an appointment set up in two weeks with a physical therapist and someone who can fit me for one.” Your voice grew softer for just a second, obvious to the both of you. Was it self consciousness that caused it? A worry of bringing up something that would upset him? 

“And your other injuries?” A wince that you were thankful could not see came before you could stop it. A feeling of guilt crawled the back of your throat, robbing you of your voice for a mere moment. 

“Things that will heal with time. Some medicines for the rest of my life.” And the daily reminder that you just hadn't acted quick enough. Something that would haunt you every time you looked down and saw the empty space where your right left should have been. “All things that I can manage.” He hadn't said anything about himself, about how he was dealing. Poorly. There was no need to put a word to it but hearing it would at least lead in a direction of knowing what to do to help him. He was deflecting, though you had pleaded with him to let you in on the basis of not having him talk. Silently, you were able to reach out and carefully curl your fingers around his hand. For a brief moment, tension wracked you as the expectation of him pulling away reigned up. Instead, there was a slight tremble and he was curling his own fingers in response, squeezing her hand tightly. 

*****

Daily trips over to Norman's became routine. It was good for the both of you, in all honesty. Getting out of the house instead of sulking around and wallowing, despite arguing that it wasn't a pity party, did you no good. And the same could be said for the older man. A familiar motion that helped dictate the day and forced the both of you to keep to a schedule. He was a little more open in talking about it, letting you know what the detectives had to say and where everyone was at with the case. You couldn't speak to the sinking feeling that rolled in your gut any time that it was discussed but it was shoved to the side and never mentioned. The man had enough stress. 

He was good for forcing you to talk about where you were at with your physical therapy and the prosthetic. You had been fitted for it several weeks ago. Things weren't one size fits all. The molding process had been interesting, with a reassurance that it would be correct once it came in. And finally, after a long wait, it came in two days ago. You hadn't realized physical stress that just the therapy would have you going through, let alone the entire concept of learning to walk again. Because that was what it was. Relearning to walk. Balance would be all new, weight shifts entirely different, and movement to adjust to when it came to walking. 

There had been an argument between yourself and your therapist that had left you stewing, in a rotten mood that was volatile at best. Norman had realized something was wrong when he ran into you while out walking Shadow. Shadow, as always, let out that excited bark and his tail started going a mile a minute. It was not acknowledged on your end and the silence was clearly enough of a tip off for him.

“Did it go that poorly today?” You jumped, startled by the comment, and the fact that he had engaged when you hadn't said a damn thing. A huff was the only response he got for a long moment. 

“I ended up in an argument with my therapist.” The words were a little sullen. Not typical at all. He waited patiently, not saying anything else, forcing you to elaborate. Pulling the information out of you without being too forceful but with the knowledge that he could be as stubborn as you. “They wanted to keep the prosthetic there until I properly learned to walk….” The words caught for a moment, not wanting to admit to struggling with it. Everything about the weight distribution felt wrong to your body. 

“I wanted to be able to bring it home so that I can work at my own pace, without all those eyes on me.” He hummed for a moment, not saying anything else right away, mulling over the information as his hands folded over top of his cane. 

“They let you?” 

“Yes.”

“Then why are you sitting here?”

“What?”

“If they let you bring it home, why are you sitting here and not walking?” The words that your therapist had said rang around your head. Coupled with the frustration over the entire situation, you had opted to sit and stew in the anger. It was easier. Mentally and physically. Still, Norman was right. And if there was one person in the world that you couldn't argue with right now, it had to be Norman. That sight less gaze seemed to settle on you, his head ever so slightly tilted, listening for your reaction. You knew the signs well enough by now. “Get your things and come over.” Now, that was entirely unexpected. Realizing that he was serious, you pulled yourself up and moved to grab everything into a bag.

*******

Norman knew his house intimately, which is the reason why he chose to do it in his space rather than yours. Every uneven floor board that would cause a balance shift, which wall would easily be reached as a brace if falling down. And how to move easily through the space, forcing you to move after him. Like a game of chase. An annoying game of chase.  

But there seemed to be a method to his madness as you were starting to get the hang of movement. It wasn't just walking in a straight line. No, this was actual movement, natural in hoe you would operate day to day. There were plenty of stumbles, sending you crashing down to the hard wooden floor. But the gruff responses demanded that you get back to your feet. 

Exhaustion began to tug at the edges of your consciousness. Muscles ached and protested each movement as they strained further and further under unfamiliar stress. The stumbles became more common and that sense of anger came rushing back, but along with it an embarrassment that you weren't picking up as fast as you wanted. That you were looking like a fool in front of Norman. 

He had demanded that you attempt the stairs. Well, more like a suggestion without room for any argument. It took effort to even think at this point how to shift your weight and the movement needed to swing your leg. Norman was close this time, closer than he had been while moving throughout the house. A brace of sorts, just in case there ended up being a tumble down the stairs. 

The first step was managed well enough, the second with a little more difficulty but by the third, your body had decided that it had enough. Thankfully, you want tumbling forward instead of backwards into Norman. Your fingers scrapped against the wood of the stairs, a shaky breath taken as your throat constricted for a moment. 

“I think that's enough for today. Come on, let's get you resting.” The raspy, grizzled voice of the older man was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality at this point; grounding you in a way that let the desire to scream, to cry, to throw things fade into the background. You were tired, hurt, and angry. But the warm hands against your hips helped to guide you back to a standing position. “Think you can get back down? Or do you want the crutches?”

“Might as well try.” The stairs were narrow, so Norman couldn't stand beside you. But, he stayed in front of you despite the risk of being toppled into, hands remaining against your hips to help act as an extra brace. The stabilization actually helped as you managed to get down the two steps, nearly sagging into the wall to your left. The older man had the audacity to chuckle. You wanted to be upset about it but found that you didn't have it in you. 

“We will work more tomorrow.” 

“Norman, you don't have to…”

“I'll stop by after my morning walk with Shadow.” You knew the routine well enough after all. When the man had his mind made up, he was all but impossible to deter. It was in that moment that you realized his hands were still pressed against you. A fact that you hardly minded. They weren't moving and neither was he as he was still crowded close. The presence was both exciting and comforting. You would be a liar if you said that he hadn't felt attraction to the man, had since you had first met. But it had never seemed appropriate. 

“Okay.” Again, it was an argument that wasn't going to be winnable. His mind was set. This close, you could see the way that his lips seemed to twitch upward, the hints of a smile present. And in response, you found yourself mirroring the expression. “I'll be ready.”

“Good.” With that confirmation, he pulled you away from the wall, as if you were nothing more than a feather in his grasp, one arm sliding around your waist to help you keep your balance. “You can take it off on the couch. Do you need to do anything with it now?” 

“Gotta make sure I don't have any blisters, pressure patches, or breakdowns in the skin.” That was easy enough to focus on, even as the warmth of his body beside yours was making it difficult to focus. “I'll clean up when I get home and use the cream that they gave me.” He helped you get settled down on the couch. 

“Can I?” His hands moved forward before hesitating. You hadn't had anyone besides the doctors and nurses touch the area. You hated having to do it yourself. But, as he waited for permission, you found that you couldn't deny the request. 

Carefully, you took his hands and guided them to the prosthesis. Norman moved his hands slowly over the entire thing, kneeling beside the couch to be able to trail them down to the foot before back up, all the way up to your thigh. 

“They did a good job.” Again, the touch lingered. For a second, you swore he could hear your heart racing, the almost unsteady beat loud in your ear. The moment was far more intimate than it had a right to be. Were you reading into it too much? Maybe. Norman hadn't exactly shown all that much interest in anything more than the steady friendship that had formed between the two of you.

“Yeah.” Finally, he pulled away and inched up to settle onto the couch beside you. The entire world felt off kilter, in an entirely new way. “Yeah, it's supposed to ultimately function better than some of the older models. I didn't exactly understand the technical stuff on how the knee hinge works but I know it cost the VA a pretty penny.” 

Carefully, the process of removing it was begun. The movements were still a little foreign to you but something you were getting the hang of; eventually they had said you would be able to do it in your sleep. Norman's fingers wrapped around your forearm, squeezing lightly. Actions paused immediately, you glanced towards him, trying to determine what the touch was for. 

“Give yourself a second.” You didn't understand what he meant. “You're shaking. And I can hear the little noises of pain.” You hadn't realized that you were even making noise, and now that he had pointed it out, you could feel the tremors in your hands and arms. He had noticed it all before it had registered. 

After a few moments, the process was finished and you tucked the prosthetic in the bag, along with the sock. The skin was a little red and there were some indentations along the pressure points but overall, nothing looked worrisome or terrible. Thankfully. 

“Better?” A rush of gratitude welled up. Shadow nudged your hand on the other side and in that moment, you realized that just as you hadn't wanted Norman alone, you weren't either. Swallowing hard to push back the emotion and chalking it up to the exhaustion that you were feeling, it took a second to respond. 

“Yeah, better. Thanks, Norman.” Unable to help it, you found yourself leaning into him just a bit as you scratched Shadow behind the ear. It didn't feel like it was too much or stepping over the line after the way that Norman had been close before. Hopefully, that wasn't too bold an assumption. For a second, it may have been when he seemed to tense before you could feel him relax. The final reassurance was when his arm curled around your shoulders, an unfamiliar but incredibly comforting weight that brought a smile to your face.  

[doki-doki-imagines]

Hiii! Love your work! So ever since that episode Chigiri calls Isagi attaboy, my brain has been just in there. So could I maybe get some good old, fast, maybe a little rough Chigiri calling reader Attagirl? Maybe a little bit of degradation too. Like being mean maybe

This man lives in my head tent free jdkdkd

“You dumb whore, instead of complaining can’t you put your mouth to better use?”

You knew from day one that Hyoma is a moody guy and you also learned how to deal with him, but today he really reached to apex, mood swinging back and forth and you were way too angry (and horny) to deal with it; thankfully Hyoma followed your lead.

Your mouth now kissing his boner through the fabric of his boxer, you can feel it twitch already, his hips grinding into your mouth begging to feel your mouth without any barrier.

It’s funny teasing Hyoma when he is in such a bad mood, but you are human too. You pull his dick out, usually, you would kiss the tip and lick slowly the shaft with the utmost care, but today isn’t the right one for such a nice treatment. You take as much as you can, moaning around the shaft.

“Ah finally” Hyoma groans. He then grips your hair, something he usually wouldn’t do, and forces you to take him all, your gags and tears make him just more aroused. He keeps you there for a second, enjoying the tightness of your throat, then let you go.

Tears running down your face and a string of spit connecting your abused mouth to his tip; a picture that is going to be framed in his head for a long time.

“Just say you wanted this from the start you bitch” A nasty snark escape his lips.

Hyoma grabs one of your hands and guides it to his thigh, a silent promise that he is gonna stop at the first tap, then he pulls your head again and starts fucking your face.

“You take it so well – You feel so good, fuck”  His words only spur you to do better, laving your tongue on the sides of the shaft as good as you can, your mouth making wet, sinful noises every thrust.

“K-keep going for a little bit more”

You nod, as best as you can since he is still keeping your head in place, the vibration making a delicious shiver run down his spine.

“Atta - attagirl” This time it’s your turn to feel the shiver; it is so good to be praised.

“Goddess, c-can I come on your face?” Hyoma moans, the aggressiveness of earlier almost vanished.

This time you don’t have time to answer, Hyoma already pulled out, jerking off at the sight of your tears, snot, and overall miserable face. A few more pumps and you found your lips and cheeks stained by strings of his cum.

“W-was it too much?”

“You were just perfect”

“Give me a minute and get on all fours, it’s time for me to reward my good girl.”

[imliketheiceifreeze]

Norman Nordstrom x reader

A rose by any other name-part one

warnings: violence, eventual smut, age gap, possible abusive relationship, slight stalking, minors DNI

945 words

[Just a short story, not sure where it's going yet lol]

Master list:

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

You walked passed the house once again. You would never admit to anyone the purposeful detour you took in hopes of seeing him. Norman Nordstrom, you thought his name was, whenever your eyes laid upon him he would be tending to the flowers at his border, or walking his dog around the yard. The poor man had lost his eyesight in the Gulf war, not shortly after he lost his whole family due to a reckless drunk driver. You weren't sure why you felt this pull to the old man, easily old enough to be your grandfather, yet you couldn't deny the dreams that came to you during lonely nights and your cheeks burned as you turned away from the house, a small smile dusting your lips.

Strange, the door seemed open but you couldn't see Norman or his dog anywhere. Should you investigate? I mean what sort of person wouldn't check on a vulnerable blind man? That was the justification you used at least when you ventured towards the open door of the house of a man you had never so much as spoken to.

"Hello. Is everything okay? I was just walking passed and noticed your door was open,"

you called into the house as you poked your head round the door. Your voiced trailed off into a gasp as you noticed the man curled up on the floor, blood pouring from his right side as he gasped for air.

"Oh my goodness,"

you murmured as you rushed to his side, falling to your knees as you fumbled with your phone.

"Sir? What happened?"

He barely acknowledged your presence, only wheezing and clutching at his side.

"You need to keep pressure on the wound,"

you mumbled as you pressed your hands above his, feebly attempting to stop the flow of blood as you clumsily punched the three magic numbers into your phone with the other hand.

"Shot,"

He managed between gasps as he finally seemed to register you.

"You were shot? Okay don't worry, I'm calling for help, you're going to be okay,"

you spoke firmly, looking him dead in the eye, even though you knew he wouldn't be able to see your determined expression. You couldn't help but rub your thumb reassuringly over his hand as you turned your attention back to the phone.

"Yes please help, a man's been shot, he's losing a lot of blood, please."

You were on the verge of tears from the stress as the dispatcher attempted to calm you.

"We'll be there soon, just keep pressure on the wound, is the victim responsive?"

You couldn't remember anything after this, only concentrating on Norman, watching the life fade from his face as tears dripped down your cheeks.

"Don't let go, please stay with me Norman, stay with me."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"News is with us that visually impaired war veteran, Norman Nordstrom, has been the victim of a vicious home invasion. However, he is stable, suffering only minor injuries, and should be making a full recovery."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

One week later

You sat in the hospital waiting room, heart beating out of your chest, clammy hands fiddling with the flimsy petals of the flowers you'd stupidly brought with you as some kind of get well soon gift. You felt so out of place.

"Y/N."

You jumped to your feet, flattening the creases in your clothes, before making your way over to the nurse.

"He's ready to see you dear, just follow me."

Wordlessly, you shadowed her to the outside of a private room.

"He's just in there."

She spoke so softly, as if she were worried her words might break you. You smiled nervously in her direction before pushing down on the handle, entering the room slowly.

"Hi, Norman?"

Your voice trembled

"and who the hell are you?"

His words cut through you like ice, chilling you to the core. You knew this was stupid, this is what always happens, how could you have been so fucking moronic.

"Well?" His gravelly voice ran shivers up your spine,

"I, uh, well I was there when you were shot, I mean I found you, and I just wanted to uh bring you these,"

you squeaked out, moving closer to the bed and pressing the flowers gingerly into one of his hands. His gaze seemed to soften at your words as he brought the flowers to his other hand, inspecting the petals.

"You brought these for me?"

He seemed bewildered

"I know you can't see them but I always notice you tending to the flowers in your garden and I thought maybe they'd remind you of home, I don't know, it's stupid..."

You trailed off. a small smiled tickled the sides of his mouth as he replied

"Have you been watching me?"

"I live a few houses down, I just walk past from time to time, I'm sorry I never said hello."

"Well thank you... what's your name then? I assume you know everything about me from the damned news papers."

There was a twinge of sadness in his gruff voice as he seemed to get lost in thought.

"Its Y/N, Y/N L/N,"

you said softly, eyes trailing across the lines in his handsome face, down to the soft white beard and cracked lips, turned upward at the corners.

"Y/N,"

he repeated you, the sound of your name on his lips making your cheeks warm.

"Well I guess I should go... I hope you get better soon Norman,"

you blabbered as you turned on your heel, practically sprinting out of the door. Norman said nothing as he attempted to quell the possessive feeling burning in the pit of his stomach.

[strawwritesfic]

Joel x Female!Amputee!Reader: (Don't) Hold Your Breath [Ch. 10]

Summary: You’ve made a lot of monumental mistakes in your life. Cutting your arm off isn’t even at the top of the list. Now you’re about to learn a lot of life lessons at the hands of your savior and her brute of a guardian–and they’re not about to let you learn them the easy way either.

Challenge: "#32 in His Rulebook" by Edible Heart Monster on Lunaescence Archives

Rating/Warnings/Tags: M (post-The Last of Us; excessive swearing; sexual references; violence against children; infected children; references to abortion; references to cannibalism; references to starvation; references to riots; implied domestic abuse; implied grooming; implied sexual relationship between an adult and a minor; death of a parent; violence; gore; blood; gun use; ableism; amputee!Reader; enemies to lovers; not canon compliant)

Pairings/Relationships: Joel/Female!Reader; Tommy/Maria; Reader/Male!OC; Ellie & Reader; Ellie & Joel; Ellie & Maria & Tommy

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Master List (with important note!)

Rule #10: Again, the enemy can hear you, so shut up.

Even when things were going terribly, somehow night watches still gave you comfort. Your eyes itched with fatigue and your muscles twitched in protest, but those were small prices to pay. You liked the dark and the quiet of early morning watches. You liked being in charge. In this world, you couldn’t trust anyone but yourself.

That was not to say that night watches weren’t boring as hell. You’d drawn the second watch that night. The only sound in the dilapidated room you sat in was Ellie’s quiet breathing. She’d woken you up two hours ago just as Joel left—to do what, he had not bothered to explain to you. Probably to see if he could find a way out of the quarantine zone. Four days stuck in that dingy apartment building, with, sure enough, a box full of infection scanners, but with a dwindling food supply and nearly no water.

You stretched in an attempt to get rid of the growing pain in your ass. Sitting all day long, trying not to move or make noise as the temperature dropped toward freezing, wasn’t much of a holiday in your book. Your movement did nothing but move your legs enough to stir the three Molotov cocktails sitting around your feet. Joel had stopped long enough to give you instructions: if anyone came, you were to lob those bombs at the doorway and get out with Ellie through the nearby emergency exit. Not exactly a shining tribute to your abilities, but it was actually the first time he’d willingly left you alone with her, though you chalked that up more to desperation than to any burgeoning respect he had for you.

With a stifled sigh, you shifted enough to look at Ellie. Despite the deep shadows of the room, you could see the dark marks of the clicker’s fingers on her neck. In the daylight, the bruises remained purple-yellow. Sometimes you caught Joel staring at them, somehow intent and soft at the same time, like he wanted to take them on himself. After the roof incident, Joel hadn’t spoken for a very long time, not until Ellie and he went off somewhere to have a private discussion.

He really was desperate, you thought, but for Ellie, not for himself. It was a weird thing to notice, and a weirder thing to be in the earthly hell humanity inhabited. Especially weird was the fact that Ellie didn’t seem desperate at all. Even as the days whiled away with no chances of escape, she remained as glib as ever. Ellie always controlled situations; the situations never controlled her. Even at fifteen, she just sort of exuded the feeling that she knew what she was doing. You wondered if you’d looked that impressive back when this all started. No. You’d been entirely out of your mind with fear. Out of your mind for four long years, only to come out sane enough to die.

You turned away before you could think more good thoughts about her. The last thing you needed was another tagalong kid to break your heart over. But even as you thought that, you relaxed a bit in the darkness and flipped back around. This was familiar, staying up in a dark room, with your stomach cramping and your brain wild with responsibility and anxiety. It was as though you had been transported back to those first eight months after you’d escaped the Northern California Zone. There you were, thrust again into a realm you had no training for, but that you had to stand up against for the sake of a child.

Your eyes settled briefly on the bandages wrapped around her arm. She never took them off, and you’d known her long enough that you wondered why. Most of the time, Ellie acted like they didn’t exist—unless she was looking at the infection scanners. Then her fingers would contract around the area as though she couldn’t keep them from doing so.

Shit, you were getting sentimental. Where the fuck was Joel? In a sudden fit of impatience, you twisted upward to peer out the grimy window. Nothing outside moved. At least you could be confident that Joel wouldn’t leave without Ellie—but that didn’t mean the gang in the zone hadn’t got ahold of him.

A burst of cold flashed across your skin as you hastily sank back down onto the dirty floor. If that was the case, what could you do? Joel doing the job instead was something you preferred. Though you couldn’t be certain, you thought you might have recognized a few of the shouts during that firefight.

If that was the case, and Joel really had got himself in trouble—

No. That couldn’t happen. If anyone could elude those guys, it was Joel. After all, he and Ellie slaughtered that entire camp almost a year ago, hadn’t they?

And why the fuck should you care anyway? If Joel got himself eaten, or even just staked outside the doors to serve as warning, that could only benefit you. Ellie was still green enough that you could probably get away from her. In fact, if Joel died, you’d bet your instant coffee Ellie wouldn’t be able to function when she found out.

Patience is a virtue—your dad had said that like it was going out of style. War, he told you time and time again, was spent mostly in waiting. The stretches where nothing happened were the worst, and if you wanted to keep your head, you learned how to stay calm during them.

You’d never managed to learn that particular lesson.

Sunrise would be several hours more in coming. You shifted a little in a vein effort to make yourself more comfortable. In the process, you knocked over one of the cocktail bottles. With a whispered expletive, you lurched forward to steady it—with your missing arm. It clattered onto the hard floor, and you stiffened instantly. They hadn’t found you yet, and you felt almost foolish.

Then you saw a circle of light quivering on the wall outside your room.

“Hey, man, I think I heard something up here,” you heard a man say.

“Probably the fucking rats. This place hasn’t been used in a shit ton of years,” a second man answered.

“Yeah, and we don’t know where that fucker and his girl went. Wouldn’t this be a good place to hide?”

“I don’t fucking know, dude. I just want to finish this and go to bed.”

“It’ll only take two minutes to check. You want me to tell the boss you let these guys go?”

“You want her to flay me alive? Man, I thought we were closer than that.”

“Ain’t got time for closeness in this world. Let’s go.”

Shit. Ellie remained asleep directly in front of the door leading to the flashlights. Only a few torn pieces of furniture stood in your room, and none that you felt safe enough to hide behind. The lights down the hallway danced across the window behind you. Your hand wrapped around the neck of one of the bottles as you tried to decide whether or not to wake Ellie.

You decided just as two men, one stocky, one with a dark shadow of hair on his chin, appeared in the doorway. They only had time to spot the slumbering girl on the floor before you launched the glass bottle with all your might toward them. Even as weak as you were, the distant was not so great that it didn’t reach. Flames burst upward, licking the wooden doorframe. Unfortunately, the makeshift bomb hit neither of the men.

“We got ‘em!” shouted the nearest man, the one with the naked face. The fire made his features blur in the surrounding darkness. You held your breath as you stared. The fire wouldn’t last forever, and you only had two more cocktails. But now they knew you were armed.

“Go tell the boys. I’ll hold them here,” he said.

The second man didn’t bother to respond. He disappeared back down the hall. The first man grinned widely at you and switched his flashlight off.

“You ladies are fucking fucked.”

“You’re fucking fucked,” you snarled. Fear clouded your ability to come up with anything cleverer. The fire by his feet began to die down. He noticed this as well, and in the moment it took him to take a step, you tossed the second bottle.

It struck him right in the chest. Maybe he had been too busy smirking to swat the cocktail away. Maybe you really had caught him off guard. Whatever the reason, the result remained the same: the man burst into flames. He screamed, beating wildly at the fire, but it had already caught in his hair.

Now was the time to move—now, before reinforcements arrived. Where you were going, you had no idea. How Joel would find you was equally a mystery. All you knew was that you had to get out, preferably with Ellie in tow. You turned toward her, intending to wake her up, only to see her already standing with the box of scanners in her arms.

“Let’s go,” she said.

She didn’t have to tell you twice. You paused only long enough to scoop up your last cocktail before you took off toward the adjoining hallway. God, you hoped it didn’t come down to a fight. After the incident with the roof, Ellie now had both guns and her knife. If anyone got too close, your Molotov wouldn’t be of any fucking use unless you wanted to go up in smoke, too. Oddly, you felt just as disinclined to go hell that night as you usually did.

The hallway was so dark that you could hardly see Ellie as she raced ahead of you. You hoped to whatever fucking deity had fucked things up so badly that an exit really did exist somewhere at the end of the corridor, one without a hoard of angry gang members gathering outside.

Ellie crashed through a door, and, following her, you found only another wide lobby on the other side. You shouldn’t have been surprised; the military changed the architecture of buildings at zone borders so much that everything got topsy-fucking-turvy trying to keep everyone from leaving. Even if this had been your zone, you wouldn’t have been able to find your way out. The first time you’d left had been the only time you left.

Your companion distracted you by throttling a nearby cabinet until it stood in front of the door you had just exited. Without another word, she hurried over to a nearby bar to shove her box of loot behind it. She was taking the safety off her gun when she resurfaced.

“What are you doing?” you asked as she started to rush off toward another hallway.

“Finding Joel,” she stopped long enough to tell you.

“What? But—”

“You killed the one guy that knew there was another door there, right?”

“Probably, but—”

“I’ve got to go. Before they come back.”

“Ellie, Joel wouldn’t—”

“Do you think I fucking care?”

You fell silent, heart thundering in your ears.

“I’m not leaving him.”

“Look,” you said in what you hoped was a soothing tone, “he’ll be able to find us if we stay put. If you go running around, you’re likely to get yourself killed, and you’ll miss him.”

“Just because you can’t handle being on your own out there doesn’t mean that I can’t. I’ve got both arms and I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

“This isn’t about me.”

“Oh, not everything is? What a fucking surprise!”

“We don’t have time for this,” you snapped. You couldn’t tell if you were more angry than scared, or more scared than angry. Ellie just couldn’t leave. Someone would kill you if she left you, whether it was Joel or the zoners.

Ellie quickly shook her head and closed the distance between you. “You’re right. Here.” She held out your old pistol. You took it without thinking. “Maybe if they show up, the adrenaline will be enough to get your aim straight.” Ellie had made it halfway across the room again before she added, “Remember: They can hear you. You might want to keep your fucking trap shut.”

And she left.

“Ellie!” you shouted after her, but no answer came echoing back to you.

For a moment, you felt blind with panic, capable only of staring numbly at the gun in your hands. Then you heard something slam in the not-quite-distance, in the opposite direction from where Ellie had gone. Before anything else could reach your ears, you dove behind the bar with the scanners. Just as you ducked behind the chipped counter, someone pounded on the door. You held your breath as the shattered remains in the cabinet jittered across its shelves. Once, twice, three times—the cabinet started to grind across the floor.

With an almighty smash, the door finally crashed open wide enough for two more men to shove their way into their room.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” one crooned.

“We heard you calling your little friend. We know you’re in here,” sang the other.

The sound of someone kicking over a long-dead potted plant filled the room. “You killed Jeffery, you little bitch. Might as well surrender to your fate.”

Before he could finish his sentence, you popped up and let off a single shot. You didn’t stick around to see if it met its mark, but it became pretty clear that it hadn’t when they started to scream at you and fire their own weapons. You stood again and fired, your hand shaking widely around your gun as you did. After the third round, you must have made a lucky shot. One of them spluttered and choked. You heard the distinct sound of a body hitting the floor.

Silence rang, but you knew it would be temporary. The horrible grinding sound of someone unable to breathe continued quietly, and then whoever was left shrieked.

“Oh, you’re fucking dead now, bitch! You think you can just waltz in here, into our turf, steal our things, kill our men, and get away? I don’t fucking think so!”

Your breath was wild in your chest. You lifted yourself up momentarily, but when you pulled the trigger, all your gun did was click. It had no more bullets. You had no further way to defend yourself.

He knew. He laughed. His footsteps echoed against the walls as he walked leisurely toward your hiding space.

“You’re gonna pay, bitch. You and your two friends. Don’t know where that man of yours went, but we’ll find him. That girl won’t make it of the building. And you? You just made sure none of you are getting an easy death.”

You dropped the gun, too tired to hold it up anymore. At last, your attacker appeared. He had a wide grin full of chipped teeth.

“There you are,” he whispered.

As he advanced, your hands scrabbled through the debris surrounding you, like a moment out of one of your well-worn nightmares. He drew closer, knelt—and that was just when your fingers found a plank of wood. You lifted it into the air without thinking and swung the object hard into his head. Again, you were lucky. Several nails had been drilled into the side of the wood, and you just happened to have sent them into the man’s skull.

“What the fuck?” he said, and lifted own gun.

You ripped your weapon out before he could fire. He dropped. That wasn’t enough. You were alone. You didn’t want him telling his compatriots anything. Again, you lifted the plank and drove it, nails first, into the back of his neck. He continued to twitch. You continued to beat him in more and more places. He fell still, but that still wasn’t enough either. You knew what torture meant for women, and you’d be damned even more if you let that happen to you.

“Holy fucking shit!”

You looked up. Ellie had returned with Joel in tow. Both of them stared at you, for how long, you couldn’t say.

Then you promptly dropped the plank and fell gasping to the floor.

[multific]

Brownies and Ice Cream

Norman Nordstrom x Reader

Summary: Your life with a very energetic son.

A/N: This can be read as a standalone or as a sequel to my previous work.

"Dad!" the little boy ran around the house, trying to find his father, you were in the kitchen making some brownies when the little boy decided he needed to know where his father is. 

To be fair, it has been a couple hours since you last saw Norman, so you didn't mind that little Oliver wanted to find him.

"Daddy!!!" he yelled louder, but no answer. "Mommy's making brownies! Dad?" a couple seconds later, your boy returned with tears in his eyes, you rushed over to him, trying to see if he hurt himself. "I can't find Dad." he said and you let out a sigh of relief knowing he wasn't hurt.

"Sweetie, your father is probably hiding, go find him."

"But, you said Daddy's too old to move that quick." your son's honesty made you burst into laugher.

"Don't say that, you know he hears everything. Did you check the garden?" he nodded. "Basement?" again, a nod. "How about his office?" nod. "Bedroom or bathroom?" two nods. "Living room?"

"Mommy, I checked everywhere! Daddy left us! What if he left and went away with his other family?"

"What other family, Ollie?" you looked at your son, confused. 

"You know, like on the TV! The man had another family, what if daddy also has one and left us for them?!"

"Okay, no more soap operas for you, Love. I'm sure your father is here somewhere. Maybe you just missed him. And if you find him, bring him to me and your reward will be fresh brownies with ice cream."

"ICE CREAM!" said the little man as he ran.

"But, be careful, don't fall, Ollie!"

 But of course, after the word, ice cream, little Oliver Nordstrom didn't hear a single word. 

You knew Norman sometimes likes to hide away from Ollie, he said the boy needs to have sharper senses as you always baby him. Which is absurd, you do not baby him! When did you EVER baby, your perfect little child?!

Being a protective mother is not a bad thing.

As you cut the brownie, you heard footsteps approaching the kitchen.

"Mommy! I found him! Where's my reward?" sang your little boy as he was already sitting by the table. Norman joined him as you placed his plate in front of him and your son.

"For my two favourite men." you placed a kiss on Norman's forehead as he smiled.

"Where was daddy hiding this time?"

"He was in the garage! He for sure didn't see me coming, he jumped when I found him!"

Norman often liked to up-play his reactions to please his son.

"Of course, he didn't, because-"

"He's blind!" chirped your son as you laughed, as did your husband.

"Yes, but also because you are a ninja."

"Not anymore, Mom! I want to be a racer now! Drive cars!" of course, at his age he constantly changed his likings, and you just went with it. 

Once almost all the brownies were eaten, your son decided to play in the backyard with your dog.

You were washing the dishes when you felt a pair of arms around you and a kiss was placed on your shoulder.

"Isn't he wonderful?" asked Norman as you smiled.

"Well, he is my son."

"I think, we should have another."

"Brownie? But we just had one."

"I meant child." Norman said as you turned around in his arms.

You looked into his eyes, but of course, saw nothing.

"I never-I don't think I want another baby. I was struggling with him a lot, you know that. Don't get me wrong please, Norman you know I love our son, but two babes? I always only wanted one child."

"Hey, hey, I get it, don't feel pressured please, I'm not going to force you or anything. I was just thinking about it, but if you don't want to, we don't have to have another one, I'm really fine with only one. Please don't make that face, you are not disappointing me, Love."

"How do you know what face I'm making?"

"I just do. But as I said, no pressure, I just thought you might want another."

"I don't think I do."

"Perfectly fine! Even if you didn't want one, I would have been fine with just us."

"Thank you for understanding."

"Of course, I love you."

"I love you too Norman. And this doesn't mean you can't play with the idea you know. I know you have a breeding kink."

"I do not." he gasped.

"Oh, you do, Love. You always talking about filling me up and stuff."

"You naughty, I thought we don't bring those up! It's just in the heat of the moment."

"Sure, that's why you never took your hands off of me when I was pregnant right? 'All round with my child' as you always said."

"Says the one who likes to be chocked."

"Can't deny that, I like to be dominated." 

Norman smiled.

"I'm so happy you came into my life, Y/N."

"As am I." you placed a kiss on his lips.

Enjoying these small moments before your son came rushing back in to tell you about the bug he found in the backyard.

Taglist: imreadinggoaway @fleursirvart @v-2bucky ehsebastiancrunch-time-sports  @pxstelrainbow ablogbypeteparker liamssmilersmexylemony @greenarrowhead feelingsareharddd @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @avengers-r-us @destynelseclipsa   @spilledinkindumpster​ celebsimagine @capsiclesdoll snoopy3000 @firstangeldragonranch @puknow​ @crazzyter  @alwayshave-faith​ @soleil-dor​ @alex12948​​ scream-kiwi79  @lxdyred​  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​​ @liveforkarljacobs @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek​​ @paola-carter​ @stunkbiggu @violet-19999​​ @praline357​​

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

             DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

[wenwenbittercake]

Do you have a masterlist of your series? It's great and would love to read it from the beginning but can't find a masterlist.

Sorry I totally forgot to make one. Honestly I didn't expect this series to be this popular so I never made one but here is the master list thank you for the support everyone 💗💗💗

Masterlist🍒✨🍒✨

Chapter 1: Worst Mistake🍒

Chapter 2: Guilty🍒

Chapter 3: Escapism🍒

Chapter 4: False Comfort 🍒

Chapter 5: Cherry Vanilla🍒

Chapter 6: Doll🍒

Chapter 7: Give peace a Chance 🍒

Chapter 8: Forbidden Fruit 🍒

Chapter 9: Comfort, Warmth and Love🍒

[im-his-druidess]

I saw your recent Norman Nordstrom post and now I'm desperate 😭

Can you please write a smut/fluff where the reader is really kind to him and helps him a lot?

Thank you for reading my request and I hope you're having a good day/night,

PhantomCat 💜

You should absolutely check out @purplelupins story for him Every Breath You Take 😩👌

[princess-of-thebes-1995]

In the future after finishing my current stories, I want to write a yandere Norman Nordstrom x reader.

Stephen Lang is so charming.

[slxsherwriter]

🌹 🌹🌹

I'm gonna cheat and give a sentence from three WIP instead of three sentences from one because I'm hyped on all of them.

Frank grinned against the shell of her ear, unable to stop the sense of pride that came with each soft mewl that left the omega as his fingers continued to tease. (Alpha Frank x Omega reader)

The raspy, grizzled voice of the older man was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality; grounding you in a way that let the desire to scream, to cry, to throw things fade into the background. (Norman Nordstrom x reader)

"Afternoon, Stuart," you greeted the older man cheerfully, clearly catching him off guard as he visibly startled. (Stuart Lloyd x reader)

[imliketheiceifreeze]

Norman Nordstrom x AFAB reader

A rose by any other name-part 3

Warnings: violence, kidnapping, smut themes, abusive relationship, minors DNI

1,564 words

You awoke groggily breathing in deeply as you remembered the events from the previous night. You could hear the deep breathing of the man behind you, his arms tightly encasing your body causing you to blush and press your cheek into the arm closest to you. God you wished this moment would never end. You felt him stir and pull your body impossibly closer to his chest

"Norman, You awake?"

You whispered softly, running your fingers up and down his arm. He only grunted in return, leaning his head into your neck, his beard scratching at your skin pleasurably.

"What time is it?"

You groaned a little, rubbing your eyes, suddenly remembering the other commitments you have in your life besides Norman.

"7 am,"

he mumbled quietly after reaching over to feel the braille on his bedside clock. This news sent shockwaves of fear down your spine. 7am!? You'd stayed over the whole night? you'd be lucky if your parents hadn't sent out a search party, not to mention you had a shift at the bar in the afternoon.

"Shit,"

you shot up quickly, immediately missing his warm embrace.

"My parents, they don't know where I am and I have work."

You rushed, scrambling to your feet, but Norman had other ideas, grabbing your waist to pull you back down on the bed.

"Baby, I have to go"

you whined, turning to face him, taking in his dishevelled appearance and stormy gaze. You thought he almost looked sweet as you stroked his cheek, leaning down to kiss him softly, allowing yourself to linger there.

"I know."

Was all he said, his gruff morning voice sending small shocks of pleasure through your body.

"But I'm walking you back, can't have you wondering round this neighbourhood alone."

You giggled a little at his chivalrous nature, despite the fact you'd walked to his home on a multitude of occasions without a chaperone.

"Sure, but you're the one that's gotta explain to my daddy where his daughter's been all night,"

you mused, crawling around his room in attempts to find your long forgotten panties

"What're you looking for?"

He ignored your teasing, clearly hearing you clattering around his room in desperation.

"My underwear, I can't exactly show up like this,"

you complained, causing him to grin as he imagined the sight of your bare pussy sticking out of your cute little dress as you crawled around on your hands and knees. He grunted as he lifted himself out of the bed, moving to his closet and fumbling around with the clothes until he found what he'd been searching for.

"Here, wear these instead."

He brought out a pair of sweatpants, laying them on the bed and waiting for your reaction with bated breath.

"Oh...Ok,"

You spoke shyly, the simple gesture causing your heart to constrict in your chest as you moved over to the bed to put on the much too large item of clothing. You looked a bit ridiculous with a pair of massive sweatpants over a dress but you felt a certain pride at being gifted a pair of Norman's own clothes.

"Thank you Norman,"

You whispered near his ear, resting your head on his shoulder comfortably from behind. He just grumbled in response but you could see the slight smile forming on his lips.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You both walked comfortably, side by side, arms linked, down the street towards your home, Shadow leading Norman excitedly with a wagging tail. You almost felt domestic- if it weren't for the unusual circumstances of your relationship- nevertheless, you were delighted to press your body into his side, leaning your head against his shoulder occasionally and grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"It's just this one here,"

you smiled, gesturing to your family home. How embarrassing it was, you living with your parents still at 21 years old but it's not exactly easy to afford housing in this economy.

"Come back tonight after your shift."

He grunted callously, however you knew his rough demeanour was hiding a deep fear of your abandonment.

"Of course Norman, I just have to straighten things out with my parents,"

you smiled, holding his face in your hands to convey your sincerity before leaning in to press your lips together

"hmph, you know I'd prefer you to live with me"

he mumbled against your lips.

"I will, I promise baby, soon"

you kissed him again, causing him to wrap strong arms around your waist to deepen the kiss, his tongue dancing with yours as you ran your fingers through his hair, tugging slightly when his teeth caught your bottom lip. Eventually you both separated with reluctance, your heart beating fast as your hand slowly slipped from his grasp

"Get home safe old man,"

you rasped, the apprehension you felt at leaving him was almost as though you worried you would never see him again. For the very first time you heard a chuckle leave Norman's lips, his usual scowl being replaced by a soft smile.

"Yeah you look after yourself too kid,"

he mused, not leaving from outside your door, apparently waiting for you to safely enter your own home, which could be seen as caring or possessive under the right circumstances. Fiddling with your keys you managed to open the door eventually, stealing one last glance at Norman before closing it softly behind you.

"I'm home,"

you called out into the eerily silent house.

"Y/N?"

A desperate voice shouted from another room, footsteps quickly following and both your mother and father came into view, a mixture of fear and anger present in their features.

"Where the hell have you been?"

Your mother hugged you tightly before pulling away and shaking your shoulders in her grip, making you feel like you were stuck in a washing machine.

"I'm sorry mum, I forgot to call, I just stayed round a friends,"

you replied elusively, avoiding her gaze whilst pushing her hands off your shoulders. Upon stepping back you could now see your father's expression and it sent fear into your body, you had fucked up real bad. Pushing your mother aside he strode towards you in three quick steps before reaching his hand back and pulling it down to meet your face with a loud thwack that resonated down the echoey corridor. tears pricked your eyes but you refused to let them fall in their presence, you wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"I'm not a goddamn child, I don't need to be punished for forgetting to call,"

you mumbled, holding your sore cheek in both hands miserably.

"You had us both worried sick, apologise to your mother now, don't make me hit you again."

You knew from past experience there was no point in fighting with him when he used that tone and you forced yourself to mumble a half convincing,

"I'm sorry."

"Good, go to your room I don't want to look at you,"

your mother turned away dramatically, causing you to roll your eyes, dragging your feet solemnly to your own room feeling like a scolded child. It was in that moment you realised you could no longer live like this, with them, swiftly concluding that cohabitating with Norman was your best solution.

You had decided to pack your bags before work, feeling that if you waited too long to leave you would be trapped forever, all that was left to do now was to break the good news to your family, well no time like the present... Making your way slowly down the stairs to the kitchen, you decided this open space would be the best place to ambush both your parents. As you stepped into the room, both their heads whipped around with neck cracking speed to face you, still seeming unsettled with your presence.

"Mum, Dad, I'm moving out tonight to live with my boyfriend."

You turned around as quickly as you entered, hearing noises of protest from your mother, commanding that you don't walk away. You, however, ignore this, marching back up the stairs as fast as your feet could carry you to collect your packed bags, beginning to push them in your beloved little ford KA waiting for you as it always did in the driveway.

"Wait, Y/N, boyfriend? Where are you going?"

You ignored her pleading questions, continuing to pack your things with difficulty.

"Mum, I'm an adult, I'm safe, I just need to move out, it's getting too crowded in here with three adults"

your gaze softened at the sight of the pain you put your own mother through, reaching a hand out to pat her shoulder.

"I know,"

she whispered so softly you almost thought she hadn't spoken, but you took it as a positive sign to continue, feeling relief at her final acceptance of the tension she would always turn a blind eye to.

"Goodbye mum,"

you spoke firmly, closing the boot of your car with a thud and moving to swiftly lock yourself into the drivers side, the engine sputtering to life when you turned the key, keeping your gaze away from your parents as you knew if you looked you would lose your nerve. And just like that you left them both, your mother sobbing quietly on the doorstep, your father still in shock, and you didn't look back, driving towards your future and away from your past. You didn't need them anymore, you had Norman now.

Taglist:

@ab-haya

@isabellekenway

@mechformers 

@lvangel98

@htnw004

@jayedillon

@violet-19999

@drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed

@holysaladapricothero

@misscaller06

[strawwritesfic]

Joel x Female!Amputee!Reader: (Don't) Hold Your Breath [Ch. 12]

Summary: You’ve made a lot of monumental mistakes in your life. Cutting your arm off isn’t even at the top of the list. Now you’re about to learn a lot of life lessons at the hands of your savior and her brute of a guardian–and they’re not about to let you learn them the easy way either.

Challenge: "#32 in His Rulebook" by Edible Heart Monster on Lunaescence Archives

Rating/Warnings/Tags: M (post-The Last of Us; excessive swearing; sexual references; violence against children; infected children; references to abortion; references to cannibalism; references to starvation; references to riots; implied domestic abuse; implied grooming; implied sexual relationship between an adult and a minor; death of a parent; violence; gore; blood; gun use; ableism; amputee!Reader; enemies to lovers; not canon compliant)

Pairings/Relationships: Joel/Female!Reader; Tommy/Maria; Reader/Male!OC; Ellie & Reader; Ellie & Joel; Ellie & Maria & Tommy

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Master List (with important note!)

Rule #12: If you can't swim, tell me beforehand. Otherwise I won't notice if you start drowning.

Tommy took the scanners, but he didn’t do anything with them. He just thanked you for the box before he shoved it somewhere out of sight. Ellie didn’t care; Joel must not have either. Neither so much as tired to ask where he was going to leave them. But you hadn’t trekked around for an entire month with an aching arm nearly getting yourself killed—or worse—for nothing. You asked.

He didn’t answer, not really. All he said was, “I just need to figure out how to introduce them to people without having a riot on my hands. Don’t want ‘em thinking their vote didn’t matter.”

Needless to say, this did not reassure you. So what if they thought their vote didn’t matter? It hadn’t, had it? Did Tommy want his people to be safe or dead? You followed him around asking questions for days after your return. It was not as though you had anything else to do with your time. But somehow you must have managed to push even easygoing Tommy too far. He rewarded by letting you accompany Maria around Jackson.

She appreciated your company even less. You couldn’t aim a gun; you couldn’t use a knife; you could barely open a door. In a word, you were useless, and Maria didn’t have the time or inclination to baby you. The gesture might have been refreshing and appreciated, if not for what you ended up doing instead: spending a lot of time with Ellie. Whenever she wasn’t in school, she was with Maria, and Maria took every opportunity to ditch the two of you and let Ellie babysit.

One such afternoon, most of Jackson was empty. Winter would soon be drawing to an end, but the nights weren’t getting any warmer, and much of the firewood stock had been depleted. Every able-bodied villager not on guard duty left the walls to help gather more. Inside remained only adults ready to shoot at the first sign of danger, the children deemed too small to fell a tree, and you. No one would trust you with an ax.

Since the day was nice despite the chilly air blowing in from the north, Ellie insisted on staying outside. She didn’t have school—both of her teachers were out with the rest—so you got the “honor” of hanging out with her all morning, listening to her constant chatter about some friend of hers that got bit and where she’d first learned to ride a horse.

“Uh-huh…Uh-huh…Uhhhh-huh,” you found yourself muttering on repeat as the sun dipped in the sky. Where the fuck was everyone? Sitting in huffy silence in the woods would have been preferable to this torture.

“Are you even listening?”

“Uh…huh.”

Something popped loudly against the wall you leaned against. You sat up with a high-pitched “shit” to see Ellie sitting in front of you, her brow furrowed. “You know, losing an arm doesn’t make you deaf, bitch.”

“I told you not to call me that,” you said with a scowl.

Her eyebrows lifted. “If it’s the only way to get your attention, I’m gonna call you bitch.”

Clearly, Ellie was not in the mood to bicker. Or maybe she as and you weren’t. The cold seemed to aggravate your ghost limb. You sighed and tugged your legs closer to your chest. As you did, you took another look at your hand. If there was one positive thing you could say about just about anything, it was that the scarring from your burns could have been worse. At least it hadn’t ruined that hand, too.

“What the fuck did you just throw at me anyway?” you asked.

Ellie answered by throwing another. A tiny spark shot up from where whatever it was hit the wall. “It’s a snapper,” she explained. “Some kind of old-timey firework. Doesn’t do jack shit, though. I’m seeing if they’d make a good distraction.”

“Why do you need a fucking distraction? Can’t you just shoot whoever’s attacking you in the head?”

“If you’d been listening to me earlier, you’d know I’m looking into methods that don’t involve shooting things for, you know, when people can’t shoot.”

“I didn’t ask for your help, you little shit.”

Ellie blinked at you, then threw a second snapper at your face. It sailed by so close to your cheek that you felt the paper brush your chin there.

“Fuck!”

“Don’t be such a baby,” she said, rolling her eyes and tossing four more of the tiny white things at the wall behind your head. “Besides, I wasn’t talking about you specifically. Don’t take everything so fucking personally. God.”

“Who else needs shitty fireworks to take out infected, jackass?” you demanded. That only earned you another roll of the eyes. If you hadn’t been so exhausted from the morning’s chores, you might have attempted to backhand her. But Ellie, as always, knew she was safe.

“As I was saying,” she said as she lifted her eyebrows, practically begging you to interrupt, “we’re not gonna have bullets forever. It’s not like there are people making them anymore. The military’s practically gone, after all. Eventually, we’re all gonna be stuck without firearms. I figure, why sit around on our asses ‘till we’re forced to adapt?”

She had a point not that you were in any mood to admit it. “So I guess I’m just lucky enough to be your guinea pig?”

A grin flashed across her face. “And lucky enough that you’ll have an edge on everyone else when guns become useless.”

“Lucky me,” you muttered. Then you gestured at her small pile of snappers with your chin. “Where’d you pick those up, anyway? Tommy got those in storage too?”

“I dunno,” she said. “Maybe. But I snagged these on the way back here. They were in a garage. Joel says fireworks came in bigger varieties though. Maybe I can find some of those, or I can make them or—”

Ellie broke off, suddenly alert and looking at something to your left. Heavy footsteps echoed from the nearby doorway. You tensed, though you didn’t bother to look at who was making their way toward you. If it was anyone other than a member of Ellie’s family unit, you’d need to take off without warning. You wouldn’t put it past one of the other Jackson citizens to try offing you while your shepherds were away. A moment later, Ellie’s genuine smile answered your question.

“Done with the lumberjack business already?” she asked.

“I got some time off,” Joel answered. When you finally deigned to look up at him, you saw that he was carrying his heavy pack normally reserved for scavenging trips.

Ellie must have noticed that, too, because she perked up considerably. “Is Tommy sending us out?”

He shook his head as he adjusted the well-worn straps. “Nah. I just got a few hours off to do something I’ve been meanin’ to do for a bit. Might need some supplies if we run into anything, but I don’t think we will.”

“We? I get to come?”

“You’re the whole point, baby girl.”

Joel waved his arm in the direction of the closest exit. Ellie hastily crammed her remaining snappers into her pack, shoved one arm into a strip, and jumped to her feet. When Joel started to walk away, she followed.

“Field trip,” she said. “Cool.”

You watched them leave, relieved. With Ellie gone, you might be able to sneak in a nap before dinner. Or even sleep through dinner, depending on how late the two of them stayed out. That was one day where your desire for sleep was definitely greater than your desire for watery, bland meat and whatever canned vegetables Jackson still had left. Maria was busy on patrol and likely wouldn’t care to find you and ask you to better yourself.

These pleasant plans were rudely interrupted by Joel coming to a stop so suddenly that Ellie nearly walked straight into him. She took a wide step backward. Then he turned and stomped back toward you.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Sitting,” you answered.

“Wrong answer. Get off your ass and come along.”

“Why do I have to go on your fucking errands?”

“You think anyone is keen on leaving you here alone?”

“What, because I’ll run off?” you demanded. “I came back with you two, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, maybe that’s the problem.”

Joel watched you for a long moment before thrusting his hand out in your direction. All you did in return was scowl. You were sore enough that the help was tempting, but not quite tempting enough. He didn’t really need to know how drained you felt after a morning spent following Ellie around and scrapping the decades-old graffiti off the inner walls. You shoved his hand away and got to your feet yourself. After another thirty seconds of staring, Joel rolled his eyes and marched off again.

You followed, but you didn’t have to be happy or quick about it. Both Joel and Ellie made it to the gates before you caught up. Once you did, one of the guards on the wall nodded. If you expected an explanation once your little group got outside, you were sorely disappointed. Joel led the way through the naked trees in silence, and for once Ellie didn’t seem to feel the need to fill that silence with chatter. At first, her uncharacteristic lack of yammering made you nervous, but then you remembered that she hadn’t got to leave the settlement since getting back three and a half weeks ago either. Stir-crazy was an emotion you could sympathize with.

Whatever was up with Joel, though, you couldn’t say. After he’d finished icing your hand, he’d gone back and reheated your coffee. As much as you’d wanted to throw it back in his face, it was coffee and you’d had to accept it and offer him a cup for “being nice.” Since returning to Jackson, you hadn’t seen him much outside of when he came to relieve Ellie from guard duty, but when you did see him, things were different. He wasn’t as much of an asshole, and somehow you didn’t like it. Worse was Ellie, who had taken up smirking on the occasions she found you and Joel together. You didn’t understand the smirk, but you did understand that it made you want to hit her even more than you usually did.

It was late afternoon by the time he stopped in a wide clearing. No movement. No sound. Not a one of the firewood-seekers were around.

“Uh…is this it?” Ellie asked.

“Yep,” said Joel. He watched her expectantly. What he was expecting, you had no idea. There was literally nothing there except a mostly-thawed pond. Ellie let out a gasp when she noticed this feature herself.

“Wait a minute,” she said, quickly backing away. “You’re not—You wouldn’t—”

“It’s time, baby girl.”

“Fuck no.”

“You’ve got to learn some time.”

“Not today.”

She was nearly to the trees; Joel started to go after her, slowly, with one hand outstretched. “It’s not that deep.”

“I don’t care. I’m not getting in that. I’m not going to—” While Ellie was busy protesting, Joel got close enough to snatch her. Ellie shrieked as he walked back toward the pond. “Joel! No! I said fucking no, Joel!”

“Sorry, kid,” Joel said in a tone that indicated he was really more amused than repentant. Though she continued to scream obscenities, he let her go. She hit the shallows with an impressive splash.

“Joel!” Ellie howled.

“What, you the Wicked Witch of the West now?” he asked as she glared up at him from the water. “You melt in water? You’ve never acted this way before.”

“Because getting in the water always had a point! And I had a raft! You want me to fucking…to fucking learn how to swim!”

He spread his arms out in front of him. “Ya caught me. Anyway, now that you’re all wet, you might as well get started.”

You’d never seen Ellie look quite as pissed off at someone other than you before. To his credit, Joel didn’t seem the slightest bit intimidated, or so you thought until you remembered that Ellie was a teenager and shouldn’t have been intimidating to anyone. Fuck, you were getting soft. Probably because the people that kept insisting on keeping an eye on you also insisted on constant displays of familial bonding while you were present.

Scowling, Ellie stood, peeled off her pack, and dumped it on the shore. A ghost of a smile tugged at Joel’s lips as he set his own pack next to it. She looked somewhat surprised when he waded past her into a deeper section of pond.

“I’m not gonna let you drown, baby girl,” he said. “We’re just going to do a few strokes.”

Suddenly her anger turned to nervousness so palpable even you could see it. “I, uh…”

“Come on. What’s going to happen if something happens to me? You want to get stuck out in the middle of a lake? Or fall off a building and drown? There’s not always going to be someone around to carry you.”

“I don’t want carried,” she muttered.

“Then do you want to die?”

“No. I…” She trailed away and shot an embarrassed look at you. Joel noticed this. He laughed.

“Oh, don’t worry. [Name] has to learn, too.”

“What?” you barked. Joel chuckled harder. “Oh, I don’t fucking think so. I took swim lessons decades ago.”

Joel nodded as though he agreed with your logic—then: “You tried swimming now that you only have one arm?”

You and Ellie froze at the exact same time for entirely different reasons: You because fuck you hadn’t thought of that; Ellie because now she had a rival she had a pretty good chance of winning against.

“You brought me here to make fun of me,” you said.

He shrugged. “I brought you here to make Ellie feel more comfortable.”

“Same thing.”

“If you want to look at it that way. ” He shrugged again before pointing toward where Ellie stood. “Now get going.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? That water will be freezing. I’m not getting in in my clothes.”

“You want to go back and get your swimsuit?” Joel asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You fall in the water during a fight—or, I don’t know, just walking, you’re so graceful—you don’t get to pick what temperature it is or what you’re wearing.”

He had a point. Why did everyone keep having those today? You were losing ground every which way, and your hope for a nap was fading quickly into the distance. Joel rolled his eyes and ran a hand down his face before he looked for a moment at both you and Ellie in turn.

“You need to learn this. If you start drowning in the middle of things, no one is going to notice.” Joel kept his eyes on you the longest. Anger broiled just underneath your skin. It would take you the longest to learn, you knew. Ellie didn’t have to retrain herself to swim a different way.

“We do this here,” Joel continued, “I’m not going to let either of you drown. And we’ll go slow. Real slow.”

Ellie watched carefully for your reaction. It was thus: You rolled your eyes massively and dumped your coat onto the dry ground. Without saying a word, you tramped over to where she stood, took a massive, shuddering breath, and stepped into the water. It soaked you up to your hips. You’d been absolutely right before, too. The pond was freezing. As you shivered beside her, Ellie smirked and pushed deeper in.

“I’ll go first,” she said. “So you can acclimate.”

To get a head start, more like. Your teeth were chattering too hard to retort. But, hey. Things would warm up eventually, wouldn’t they? And participating beat the shit out of sitting around all day watching Joel and Ellie have fun.

[syluss-littlecrow]

size training with sylus

<slyus x fem!reader>

where you’re size training on Sylus’s dick. ❤️

genre/warnings: smut, pwp, big dick!sylus, size training, size kink, dear god sylus and his fat cock, breeding kink, unprotected sex, pet names, dacryphilia, it’s just sylus brain rot ❤️

w/c: 2K

a/n: I’m on Love & Deepspace fic tumblr! 😮 hope I’ll be welcomed nicely here haha. As a peace offering, this is my present to everyone (and especially the Sylus girlies)!

You shift your body slightly, trying to make yourself comfortable, on top of taking slow breaths, your heart fluttering at Sylus's soft voice coaxing you. 

"That's it. Take it slowly, kitten", his voice slow and deep in your ears. But you don't see the way he's shutting his eyes and biting his inner cheek every time you squeeze around him. He's trying to pace his breathing as well, but it feels so fucking good.

You whine softly against his bare chest, his heat radiating off you, his slender fingers stroking your hair slowly, and his other hand drawing soothing circles on your thighs. 

You don’t remember how it started, but your thoughts start to drift, recalling the times your mind would float whenever Sylus had his lips on yours with you straddling on his thick thighs. He would devour you, painfully slowly because he knows that’s what riles you up, and he definitely enjoys listening to your whimpers, your non-verbal pleas for him to do more to you. He’d make sure your lips are wet and messy once he’s done with you, his touches teasing and light against your skin. Sylus secretly wants you to beg for it, because he knows that he’d give in to you in a heartbeat. His fingers would cup yours that were on his chest, and the look he would give you reset all the butterflies in your stomach. You would feel his thick erection, hidden under the thin silk black bathrobe he’d always wear against your clothed pussy, and dear god, he’s so fucking big. But before you could ask, Sylus would trail his fingers to tease your wet clit and pussy, soaking in your adorable reactions he swears is enough to get him off, erasing the question of wanting him to fuck you off your brain when the pleasure from his fingers tingles through your body. 

Sylus doesn’t pride himself as a generous being, but he thinks he’s always generous enough for you. He realises he enjoys having his face in between your legs, making you squirm, listening to you sob when he overstimulates you with his tongue, making sure his tongue presses and grazes fully on your clit while he listens to you fall apart, his crimson eyes locked onto you while he holds you down to take whatever he’s giving you. 

He’s good at distracting you like that whenever you want to bring up the question of fucking. 

This time though? Through your wet lashes from the overstimulation and hazy thoughts, all you were craving for was just to be fucked stupid by Sylus. Your hand reached out and pushed against his head. Sylus pulled back slightly, confused for a moment. 

“What is it, sweetie?” He paused, his hands trailing up and down your thighs. 

Your mind slowly clears, but your pussy is still pulsing from him tongue fucking you.

“Need you to fuck me, Sylus. Please. I don’t think I can take it any longer.”

Sylus is momentarily taken aback by your demand, but he realises he can’t keep holding it off, mostly because there’s only so much longer he’s able to hold back, especially when you’re begging for him like that. 

“I don’t think-“

“I can take it”, you muttered stubbornly, yanking your partner towards you. You shift yourself above him, straddling his thighs, just shy of his appendage. 

As much as your determination is endearing, Sylus knows your comfort should come first. And he knows very well that his cock isn’t gonna fit into you in one go, so he decides to let you gauge it for yourself—putting your hands into the string of his robe, gesturing you to loosen it. 

And you do, your gaze flickering from his cool expression to his silk robe sliding off his body when you untie the string. 

You swallow hard when his cock comes into view—thick, long and heavy, the tip red with a wet sheen of precum. Yeah, that’s definitely not gonna fit in you in one go. You and him solely being just wet enough wasn’t going to cut it. 

Nonetheless, you’re still determined. Your eyes meet his gaze and an idea pops into his head. 

He intertwines his fingers with yours.

“Tell you what, sweetie. I’ll fit into you slowly. Doesn’t matter how much you can take, I just want to make sure you’re comfortable when you’re doing so.”

“But-“

He presses his lips on the back of your hand. 

“I’ll be fine. You trust me, right?”

You nod, watching the way his eyes soften before you. 

So there you are, lying on your side, facing Sylus, your cunt trying to adjust to his cock as he stretches you open. It’s been a couple of days since you’ve been size training with your partner. It started off with getting his cockhead in, and that was already making you hitch your breath. Then inch by inch he sinks into you from then. He’d let you cock warm him like that and it never failed to leave you so full one session after the next. 

It’d been seven days, and you barely pushed through three-quarters of his girth. Initially, Sylus still could tease you while you tried to take his cock, but as he sunk deeper into you after each session, it started getting harder for him to maintain his composure—every twitch, every squeeze—had him digging his fingers into his palm, clenching against his silk pillow and breathing a little harder. 

He huffs once more when he feels you clench around his cock. 

“If you’re gonna keep clenching around me like that, Kitten, I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it.”

You glance up, watching the way Sylus’s platinum hair becoming a tousled mess against the pillow. His crimson eyes cast to meet yours, his lips pulled into a slight frown. 

“I can’t help it”, you reply, suddenly feeling self-conscious. 

You hear Sylus hiss slightly once more when he twitches inside you. 

“Do you think you could fit another inch in?” It almost comes off as a beg. 

You inhale shakily, shifting yourself further downwards, taking another inch of his cock. The both of you gasp at the sensation. 

You freeze at the thickness. How far down are you already?

“You’re almost all the way in, Kitten”, Sylus whispers, almost as if he heard your thoughts. His breathing is growing heavier by the second, and he’s forcing himself to hold back from just thrusting the remainder of his cock in. It’s dangling over him like his favourite prey. 

His thumb strokes against yours, trying to distract you from the pressure on top of pressing your forehead with kisses, singing you soft praises.

Your mind is gradually turning more hazy with Sylus’s cock taking up the majority of your thoughts, on top of his body soap that’s been creeping into your olfactory senses. The more Sylus inches his cock into you, the more he’s pressing onto your g-spot, and the more it’s starting to make you see stars whenever you blink. You’re growing so sensitive that you’re feeling every throb Sylus’s cock is giving you. 

Your hand is on his arm, trying to ground yourself from the slight soreness. Another strained whimper when Sylus pushes him deeper into your pussy. Slick leaks from your pussy and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Sylus. 

Another kiss to your temple, another circle drawing session on your thigh.

“Do you want me to go all the way in?” 

Your toes curl.

“I can take it.”

So Sylus inches his cock right to the hilt, knocking the wind out of you. 

Tears are prickling at the corner of your eyes, but oh god you do feel so good. 

“How are you feeling, sweetie?”

You hiccup softly. “So full.”

He chuckles. “Such a good girl.” The vibrations of his light laughter only press his tip further onto your g-spot, and it’s making your thighs shake from the impending orgasm. 

“D-don’t move so much, Sylus. You’re gonna make me—“ you try to bury your head into his chest but he stops you with his fingers in your chin. 

“Make you what?” 

He intentionally shifts, and his cockhead hits your sensitive spots again, sending fireworks into your eyelids, and a strained moan. Sylus seems to enjoy your reactions, because then he flips you to your back, his large frame looming over you, forcing you to look up at him with your legs folded, and still with his cock in you. 

Oh no. 

Sylus looks down at you with the faintest glint of softness in his eyes before it completely disappears, now just hunger seeping through the red. 

“Sylus!-“ you gasp, his fullness penetrating into you again, this time easily, considering the wet and sopping mess you’ve made around his cock. 

He only hums in reply, then pulling out slightly before he pushes into you again. He’s found your sweet spots, and he’s not letting it go that easily. 

The knot in your stomach pulls tight, and it’s making you tear up in sheer pleasure. You’re barely able to meet Sylus’s eyes, not when he’s fucking into you and has your head thrown back while you’re fighting to keep your eyelids open. 

It builds and builds. Sylus probably realises it from how much you’re just pulsing on his cock. His thumb rests at the corner of your lips and you let him slip in, your glazed out eyes meeting his. It makes his heart flutter when you’re completely undone like this for him, but he’ll never admit it, at least, not yet. 

“Gonna cum. Fuck, it’s so much, Sylus-“ you whimper before your mind completely melts away. 

“Release all you want on me, sweetie. That’s my good girl.”

That’s enough to send you over the edge—your orgasm hitting you like waves, tingling through your body like electricity, the pleasure eating you up over and over again. Sylus watches affectionately while you fall apart on his cock—the way you’re writhing and squirming, the way his name leaves your lips after every moan, the way your pussy creams so much on his cock. He thinks he’s doomed because he never gonna get enough. 

“Looks like a little kitten made a mess”, Sylus teases. He watches the way cream pools at the base of his cock when he pulls out slightly, only to thrust back into you again. His eyes flutter shut at the tight warmth eating him up, groans replacing his words. 

“Now, can I make a mess in you?” 

Your watery eyes meet his, and he’s equally about to lose all composure. You cup his cheeks, taking him by surprise, before giving him a quick peck on the corner of his lips, and then you nod. Said corner of his lips lift in satisfaction at your approval.

He’s just ready to ruin you. 

His strokes become more heavy, the overstimulation shutting your brain off. Nothing but pleasure is surging through your nerves now. You’re even holding up your legs so Sylus can fuck you deeper. 

“Now be a good girl and take all of it”, he mutters huskily, burying his face against the crook of your neck, his eyes snapped shut and his eyebrows furrowed. 

Despite the fact that you don’t get to see the way Sylus’s face contorts in pleasure when his orgasm hits him, his groans right in your ears serve you satisfied for now while thick white spurts into your abused pussy, filling you up all the way, some seeping past your plugged hole. 

You don’t realise how much you’ve clawed down Sylus’s back while he was emptying himself into you. 

Well, he doesn’t need to know anyway. 

Sylus stays above you for a moment, the both of you catching your breaths. He still has the energy to plant more bites on your neck while you stroke his hair. 

He pulls back to look at your face properly, and all you can think of is how fucking good he looks post-fuck—messy, sweaty, and so fucking delicious-looking. His fingers brush away your strands of hair, and his thumb caresses your bottom lip. 

“You’re truly gonna be the death of me, sweetie.”