#maybe they would explore some body horror with that

[winpocalypse]

listen to this…horror pregnancy trope…season 4 sam is pregnant with the antichrist child and gives birth in the panic room. dean and bobby kill it…after that dean is tormented with weird thoughts about getting sam pregnant with his own baby…he cannot accept that sam betrayed his body and their family like that…dean needs to fix it somehow, fix his sammy.

you know, i'm not really a mpreg girlie but i can fuck with this just because the body horror would be next level, and also the layer it would add to sam's purity issues and being a freak oof

i mean, the idea of sam producing another human, that thing being stretched out of him in the most abnormal ways, something sucking the nutrients out of his guts, moving about his body, feeding of it, even more so in the panic room where he doesn't have access to demon blood, something the creature would probably need, so he would become frail faster

and you know what would be awesome? yeah, maybe that would plant the idea in dean's head, putting his own baby in sam, but the thing is.... he can't. sam produced the antichrist because that's what he was born to do in a way, that day mary sealed his fate. the supernatural works itself out. but he's still sam, he can't produce normal human children, so that little seed that grows in dean's mind is all there is, he can fuck sam six ways to sunday and it will never happen, it drives him up the wall

and yeah maybe dean and bobby kill it but it comes back

it keeps coming back

[muchosbesitos]

SYMBIOSIS.ᐟ

absorbing curses was simple enough, right? until your boyfriend absorbs something that isn’t quite a curse.

FEATURING: venom! geto suguru x journalist! female reader

CONTENTS: 18+ content, mdni. has SOME canon qualities/otherwise just an au, mentions of blood, monsterfucking, tentacles as bondage, mentions of dead chickens (ref to the first venom movie lol), unprotected p in v (monster or not, wrap it 🫵🏼), (consensual) recording during sex, male masturbation, cunnilingus, oral (m receiving), riding, missionary, pet names, some aftercare

WORD COUNT: 6.2k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: 19inchesofvenom 19inchesofvenom 19inchesofven- (i’m gonna go sit in a corner n think about what i wrote sorry chat)

You were going to strangle your boss.

Or, you would've entertained the idea had it not been for the hefty stack of ALMOST DUE bills cluttered around your kitchen table in bright red ink (and the very real possibility of ending up in jail, whoops).

Maybe you'd just stick with your original idea of writing a heavily worded word document. One that you'd never send, of course. But one that would explain the absurdity of this situation, nonetheless. Using your journalistic degree—and the many years of debt that it'd set you back, to come to an abandoned barn house in the middle of nowhere.

Unsolved mysteries and speculation led you to explore some complaints farmers had about missing chickens. On some hunch that Venom as the city dubbed him had been responsible.

Brown, dried out leaves crunched underneath your feet with each step as you slowly began to approach the abandoned barn. A coyote howled in the distance, the sound of cicadas buzzing around only adding to the animal symphony. You wouldn't be surprised if a chainsaw popped out from the back of the barn and began chasing you down.

"Can't be that bad, right?" You muttered to yourself, standing in front of the tightly shut doors. Trying (and failing) to convince yourself to go through with this investigation instead of tailgating it straight out of this horror scene. You managed to get the heavy door open, its hinges creaking obnoxiously. No chainsaw in sight—okay.

Holding the small candle in front of you, the area around you began to illuminate while you made your way further inside. Nothing out of the ordinary. A couple horses sleeping in their stables, buckets and rakes in almost every corner. Until you approached the chicken coops. Flies buzzed around a couple of the spaces, bunching up in the masses.

Shooing them away, you peered your head inside. And you almost immediately wished that you hadn't. Instead of getting an angry chicken looking back at you, you only got to see a chicken's body laying there. With no sight of the head anywhere. And while you were just a journalist for a mid tier newspaper.. even you could tell that it wasn't normal behavior.

SWISH.

A sudden burst of air hit your face, the hinges of the barn door creaking even further. The culprit had been just a couple meters away and you'd missed it. You jogged outside to try to see if you could catch a glimpse, looking up and down. Only to receive nothing but the buzzing cicadas from earlier.

In the short amount of time it'd taken you to come out, whatever—or whoever was out there, disappeared in the blink of an eye. You were left standing there with your mouth agape, camera weighing heavily in your hand. And now, a missed call from your boss.

"Hello?" You decided to answer the second call, pacing around the barn. Trying to think of just how you were supposed to begin to explain this. How every fiber in your being felt Venom's presence.. without actually facing him. Without actually having any proof that he was even here in the first place.

"I'd appreciate it if you answered my calls the first time around," her voice snapped out from the other line, an agitated groan leaving her lips. "I called to ask how the investigation was going. I'm assuming you have what you need to have the paper by tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" All the blood in your body ran cold, even more than the near death experience. The woman's working you into an early grave.

And all you received in response to your question was another groan. You could practically picture her pinching the bridge of her nose by now. "Yes, tomorrow. I plan on having it released a couple days from now, you know how the process is."

"Right, right, yeah. I'll get the paper to you by tomorrow," You assured her, your steps starting to get faster. It wouldn't be that hard, right? You just had to do what a couple journalists hadn't achieved in months by tomorrow morning. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, I'm screwed," you muttered to yourself, pushing your phone into the depths of your pocket.

The animals woke up from their nap, looking over at you with an unamused expression. "Don't look at me like that," you hissed out, catching a glimpse of them before letting out a groan, "And now I'm arguing with a bunch of animals." A slow breath left your lungs, forcing yourself to calm down. You'd just work with what you had in front of you.

Only drops of blood staining the tan floor in front of you served to prove that you weren't seeing things. You set the candle aside and pulled your camera out of your bag, starting to take pictures from whatever angle you could muster up. Whatever angle would look the most inconspicuous and mysterious to the newspaper editors.

You couldn't help but feel like something was staring at you—gauging every single one of your movements when you stepped out of the barn. The creature wouldn't have been stupid enough to stick around, would it? You looked up at the barn roof, almost expecting to see something ready to attack. But once again, a whole load bucket of absolutely nothing.

You truly didn't get paid enough to deal with this.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

An unquenchable thirst consumed Suguru's being inside and out, the urge completely taking over any last sense of rationale that he had remaining. Taking over every single last one of his thoughts. Even with the warm, iron taste of blood coating every single one of his tastebuds—the need wasn't satisfied. It wasn't nearly enough.

It almost felt like it would never be enough.

Dried crimson smudges smeared across elongated canines, pieces of raw flesh sticking to the ends. A mix of his own drool and blood dripped from the corners of his mouth, dripping down his chin and bare body. A body that wasn't really quite his own. Or more accurately, a body that wasn't just his anymore.

Suguru wasn't completely sure what the thing was, originally thinking of it as curse when he'd been sent out by Yaga to 'handle' the issue. Ironically enough, for the same thing that you were investigating just now. Except that he went to absorb it, the black glob in the ground didn't behave anything like a cursed spirit.

The taste of vomit and shit was one that Suguru was used to by now. The taste of every single one of humanity's evil doings—from lust to greed—sticking to the back of his throat while his body absorbed that very same evil. It was a taste that he couldn't get rid of no matter how hard

The little glob didn't taste like anything going down, which probably should've served as the first red flag. One of the other things was that the little thing didn't exactly appear on his command—much like the others in his repertoire, but rather when the thing wanted to make itself known. Like it had rational thinking.

It'd somehow bonded with Suguru's DNA, latching onto him for survival. Even with every method that he'd tried to take it off—prying it off with a metal bar, burning it off, freezing, it was all pointless. The little thing would just stick its gooey tongue out at him before retreating back to the safety of his own body. Going so far as to claim that they were the 'perfect match.'

Dead chicken heads cluttered around his feet, the sound of bones crunching against each other and the last desperate clucks in vain still echoed throughout his skull. Even a couple pieces of flesh remained on the tips of his teeth, the creature inside of him savoring each last bit of the pieces. Better than it being a human, at the very least.

He'd become too sloppy. That much was clear after you'd almost caught him in the barn earlier. If you'd been even just a second faster, you would've noticed him sticking to the side of the roof with no problem. Despite every sense in his body being enhanced, he'd almost gotten caught. All for his blood thirsty to have chickens before going back home for dinner.

How'd this even become a problem? Suguru had made it a point to take just a few chickens—just enough to satiate the thirst that seemed to run deep within his veins. Taking a few from a different farms scattered across the countryside shouldn't have been suspicious.. and yet here he was. Being investigated.

The smart thing to do would just to leave the chickens alone for now, right?

Just leave the whole thing alone. That would be easy...

Until he had the stupid idea to swing by your apartment. Just to make sure that you'd gotten home safe after driving in the snow. And maybe think of some lie of how he got stuck out with Gojo on a mission again, anything that would ease the suspicions you had.

After spending what seemed to be an eternity waiting for some kind of sign to show up, for the culprit to make themselves known—you decided to call it a night. With just a couple photographs and a new conversation topic for your therapist in the following days. And now you were stuck writing a multi page article with nothing but good vibes and a couple dead chickens.

Can after can of unfinished energy drinks cluttered the expanse of your desk, serving as a paperweight for the several papers that laid in front of you. The laptop screen in front of you illuminated your face, nearly blinding as every tab you could find in regard to Venom was opened up. Which was a complete grand total of three articles.

All built up on pure speculation. Exactly what the farmers had told you during their interview—rambling about it being a two headed monster, a soul snatcher, a demon. The eerie presence that hung around the farm was too strong to be ignored.. and yet, no one had actually found the source behind it. No source, no reliable clues, nothing. Just a whole load of absolutely nothing.

The simple fact remained that no one had managed to catch a glimpse of it. Or probably, no one had managed to catch a glimpse of it and live to tell the story. The photos didn't offer much either—they were all either blurred, heavily edited, or just outright AI generated. Each failed result just made the pounding headache thumping against your head all the much worse.

Just what were you supposed to tell your boss and the multitudes of readers?

A loud thump against your window distracted you from looking at your computer screen for different job offers. A thump too heavy to just be a result of the snowfall outside. To open it or not to open it? You stayed still in your spot, gulping down more of the battery acid to keep yourself for a couple more hours. Until another thump. And the third thump came.

You reluctantly got off the chair, padding over towards the window. Nothing. The night sky was completely empty, albeit for a couple snow flakes that were starting to coat the streets in a thin white sheet. Your gaze went down to the three pebbles lying on the floor, matching the number of thuds you'd heard earlier.

"What the fuck?" You muttered to yourself, looking up from the pebbles. The words died in your throat when you looked up to see big, white eyes boring into your own. Not exactly what you were expecting to see living in the second floor. You scrambled away from the window, your heart beating against your chest as you heard the creature scratching against the glass.

The same creature that you were trying to write an article about was scratching against your window, each one grating against your eardrums. Had it been tracking your movements down since you'd left the barn..? Before you had the chance to begin questioning it further, it slid through the crack in the window like slime. Reaching up and up until it reached the lock.

Slipping inside of your apartment in a span of seconds, Venom stood in front of you. Its head pressed against the ceiling, taking over the space it had available with ease. Chills ran down your back when the creature met your gaze—his stare unsettling. The way a predator would look at its prey. It didn't help that you could practically see it salivating as it took you in.

The chickens were the appetizer and you were about to be the full course meal.

"You're the one writing those articles," not a question, just a simple statement. Its voice came out like something out of an alien movie. You rubbed the back of your neck, awkwardly looking up at the goo-like creature. Trying to figure out what lie you could pull out of your ass.

"I mean, not exactly. There's a lot of people writing those articles, mine don't really get as much traction," you were babbling the first thing that came to mind, trying to buy yourself enough time. Enough time to figure out if jumping out of the second window in just your pajamas was too stupid of an idea. Except... that Venom wasn't even paying attention to you anymore.

It busied itself with picking up one of the various news articles, an indignant scoff leaving its mouth. Holding up the offensive piece of paper up to his face, its eyes narrowing down at you. "If you answer this wrong, I'll be eating your brains. If you answer it right, I'll be eating your arm. Do you think this is the most flattering picture of me?"

You looked over at the picture, trying to discern what was so wrong with it. Seeing Venom face to face, this was the closest thing that resembled it. "It's red but it still looks like you somewhat," you shrugged. Though your eyes quickly widened seeing Venom lick their lips, almost hungrily. Like it'd been waiting for you to say the wrong answer.

"But no, I don't think it's the most flattering. Doesn't look like you at all," you quickly backtracked with a nervous laugh, stepping back just the slightest bit. Just to where the creature wouldn't notice you were slowly slipping away. The creature seemed satisfied with that answer, slamming the photo down onto the wooden desk.

"So unfair that I'm still getting compared to that thing."

"That thing?"

"Carnage."

Venom picked up the camera that laid next to the disorganized stack of papers—holding it up to his face. "Not bad, could've done with some better lighting," he tsked, looking through the pictures you'd taken earlier at the farm. "There wasn't any better lighting," you grumbled, folding your arms across your chest. The subtle click of the camera filled up the room as the creature continued to look through the photographs.

Until even it got tired of multiple copies of the same photos. Venom held up the camera lens to face its slimy face, having the nerve to smile just as the flash came on. "There. A much better picture for your references," the creature spoke almost proudly.. holding up your camera to take another photo of itself. Taking on a more serious expression. "Replace those ugly ones on Google."

Venom moved across your room curiously, exploring it like something out a museum. Picking up the articles you had scattered throughout your desk, holding it up underneath his scrutinizing gaze. And then.. the first change started to happen. Its mask began to disintegrate, human flesh starting to show underneath its cover.

You were delirious. That was the only possible explanation. The fumes from the filthy manure finally infiltrated your brain. The sight of the dead chickens was starting to mess up your cognitive function. "Suguru?"

"Surprise," now he sounded nervous, looking everywhere in the room except at your face.

All the little signs that Suguru had been displaying throughout the past couple weeks slowly started to make sense. From being insistent to be the one to wash his uniform (not that you'd minded at the time) to coming back home at the ass crack of dawn. Claiming that a mission held him up. And still, you found yourself wanting to believe that maybe you were just hallucinating.

"I didn't scare you too badly, right?" he approached you slowly, like he was the one that had to be cautious. You stayed frozen in spot, your mouth agape even as he came to hold your hips.

"Wait, so you're the murderer? How long has it been going on for? A-And why'd you show up here as Venom?" The questions spilled out of you, struggling to even begin to wrap your head around this.

Choosing to ignore your other questions, he simply answered, "You wanted to write your article, didn't you? What better way to do that than to keep track of our exclusive interview." Your phone looked ridiculously tiny held in between two digits, one of his fingertips tapping at the screen. To get the camera app set up?

Suguru placed the camera against one of the perfume bottles on the desk, capturing your bed in the frame. "What's that for?" you questioned, looking over at him as he moved around your room. No longer with that curious gaze, but the usual comfortability instead. "It'll be easier for you to remember if you have it digitized."

Your bed squeaked underneath his weight as Suguru went to lie down, resting his hands behind his head. "Come on, princess. The interview's more comfortable this way," he patted down on the spot next to him, a couple of your stuffed animals flying to the floor from the sheer force of his hand.

"So, what do you want to know?" Suguru questioned, running one of his fingers down the sheer material of your sleep shirt. Bunching up the thin material underneath his hands before slowly raising it up to your stomach. Abnormally cold hands slid up your torso, goosebumps forming instinctively at the touch.

"Why'd you murder the chickens? Not like we're missing any food at home," You looked over at the camera, making sure it was recording. And trying to avoid looking at Suguru. Was he still the person that you fell in love with? Well, clearly not.. but maybe, just maybe, the symbiote hadn't changed him?

You weren't sure how to deal with the possibility that the thing inside him had changed him completely. But Suguru was still gentle, his fingertips lightly caressing your body while he let out a small hum. Considering his answer.

"The thing inside me craves blood. Morning, day, and night. It's like an urge. An itch that I can't really control," Suguru moved his hand up your shirt, letting out a small hum. "I know that doesn't answer your question. Give me a bit."

Suguru grasped one of your breasts in his hand, rubbing his thumb against your areola. Feeling your nipples getting harder and harder underneath his fingertip, both from the cold seeping in through the slightly ajar window and his actions. He did the same to your right breast, slowly taking his time to move down your body. Eliciting all the goosebumps he could muster within you.

Suguru's fingers rubbed slightly against your clothed cunt, tracing the outline of your folds through the flimsy material. "Or better yet. Why do you think I murdered the chickens?" the deflection was smooth, even you had to admit that much. His fingers were just as smooth, sliding your panties to the side to reveal your already glistening cunt.

The two digits began moving in a scissoring motion, slowly starting to spread you open. It was hard to focus on the damn chickens when all you wanted was for him to keep going. Your hips bucked up to meet his hand, getting the slightest bit of friction against his palm. Just as soon as that sense of relief came over you, it was quickly ripped away.

Suguru pulled his fingers out of your pussy, bringing them up to his lips. Wrapping his lips around them and sucking on them like a decadent dish, rolling his eyes back. "I'll be nice, even though you didn't answer. Want a little taste?" You simply nodded at his question, leaning up to meet his lips. Suguru closed the gap in between you two, pressing his lips against your own.

The first thing you could taste was yourself, the taste clinging onto his lips for dear life. Your tongue ran over his bottom lip, picking up the remnants.

“If I knew why'd you murdered the chickens, I wouldn't be asking," you pointed out, a small gasp leaving your lips. His thumb teased your clit yet again, teasing you to that crescendo before letting it drop again.

"But you're so smart, baby. I wanted to hear your thoughts on why chickens. Why not dogs? Why not cats?" Suguru spoke in puzzles, only serving to confuse you even further. "Come on, put that big brain to use and let me hear your thoughts."

"Because.. it's easier to overlook?" You blurted out the first thing that came to mind, trying to put your 'big brain' to use without blanking out completely.

Suguru clicked his tongue, nodding his head from his spot in between your legs. "Something like that, yeah. I thought no one would really notice if a couple chickens went missing," he looked up at you, amethyst eyes almost seeming to sparkle underneath the moon.

The only time where Suguru didn't feel like the hunger was all consuming was when he was in between your legs, eating you out to his heart's content (or until you had to pull him off you after the nth orgasm, either or). "Could smell you all the way outside the window. Such a good scent," he all but purred into your skin, completely removing your panties off.

Just how enhanced were his senses now? Maybe that should be your next question. If you remembered, that is.

Sharp canines grazed upon your inner thighs, the movement surprisingly gentle. For someone who'd just bit off a chicken's head with those same teeth, anyways. His long tongue licked a stripe up your inner thigh, sucking on the supple skin and savoring the taste all the while. Your hips bucked up in need of something more, only to quickly being pinned down by his hands.

"Let me take my time, princess. Savor this," He looked over at you, a firm grip on your thighs. "I'll give you what you want, I promise," Suguru hadn't even done anything—and he was already starting to get delirious. He could practically taste you from here, could feel the scent of you completely invading his senses. All he could think about was you, you, and you.

The stretch of the symbiote's long, pink tongue as he pushed it in deeper into your cunt had you gripping the sheets beneath you all that much tighter. The silken sheets bunching up underneath your vice grip. Just the tongue was enough to reach up where your boyfriend's cock normally did.

You writhed against the silk bedsheets, your eyes struggling to stay open as the tongue pushed further inside of you. Filling you up with so much ease. It slowly retracted, pushing back inside of you with one swift motion. "D-Don't stop," you let out a gasp, your back arched while the tongue reached deep within you.

"So tasty," a low gravelly voice that didn't quite belong to Suguru sounded from the back of his throat. The different entity living within his body. "Don't get used to it," Suguru's voice came out muffled, tongue-deep inside of your cunt. His tongue eagerly lapped up and every drop of your slick, coating his mouth and chin.

He pulled away for the slightest bit, letting his spit dribble down on to your pussy. Watching intently at the way your walls clenched at just that, the way you twitched with just the lightest of movements. "F-Fuck, Sugu!" A whine left your lips, feeling his fingers push into you again. Curling them just right, hitting that sweet spot inside of you with each thrust.

"So good," he babbled against your cunt, the tip of his tongue swirling against your clit. "T-Taste so fucking good, I love you," Suguru rutted his hips pathetically onto the edge of the bed, leaving his precum onto the sheets. The hand that wasn't essentially knuckle-deep inside you wrapped around his cock, thrusting himself in time with your own.

The symbiote's tongue was quick, precise in the way that it flicked around your clit. Suguru swirled it around the nub, letting out mindless groans and babbles as he leaked further into his hand. Your cunt gushed around his fingers—squelching with every thrust of his fingers he gave. You tightened up around them, your fingers digging in further into the bedsheets.

"G-Gonna cum, gonna cum," you babbled out, your toes curling. It was just so deep, so good, so much of everything. "Cum all over my fingers, pretty. Wanna taste you so bad," Suguru managed to get out through his own whines and babbles. You felt that pressure inside of you build up before finally releasing—covering his fingers in your release when you came.

Suguru took his fingers out, replacing them with his tongue to lap up every last drop that started to leak down your thighs. With one final kiss against your folds, he pulled away to clean away his fingers. You sat up, coming face to face with his cock now that he was standing up.

And to call it a beast was short of an understatement.

Your swollen lips wrapped around the tip of his cock, struggling to completely get him inside of your mouth. It was just so.. thick. You looked up at him, your eyes starting to water up from the way your jaw was starting to slack. "You don't have to, princess," Suguru cooed down at you, wiping away your tears with his thumb. Though, even he would be a fool to deny this sight was anything short of perfect.

You looked absolutely sinful on your knees, your cheeks hollowing out in some attempt to ease the way down. You ignored the warning, slowly starting to bob your head down his shaft. Becoming complacent with the fact you wouldn't dare to try to take all of him in—not unless you wanted a quick trip to the hospital and an awkward explanation to the ER doctors.

With the spit pooled up in your mouth, you blew bubbles on the tip of Suguru's cock before letting it dribble down his shaft. One of your hands wrapped around the base, slowly starting to twist your wrist and start to jerk off what you couldn't reach. "F-Fuck, that's it, princess. So good," Suguru moaned out, one of his own hands resting on the back of your head.

"If you want me to keep going—answer me this. Have you hurt any civilians?" You pulled your mouth away, a string of saliva connecting you to the tip of his leaking cock. Suguru let out an exasperated groan, "No. I haven't. I don't want to hurt any people."

Even from this awkward angle on the floor, you could tell that he was telling the truth. Finally. You continued to drool on his cock, the filthy sounds of you gagging on it when the tip hit the back of your throat echoing through the thin walls. Your tongue traced through the thick veins on the sides, feeling Suguru's thighs twitch beside you.

"O-Oh f-fuck," Suguru bit on his fist, his head lolling back the more you tried to push his cock inside your mouth. Your tongue licked down the underside of his cock, going all the way to his heavy balls. You looked up to see Suguru struggling to meet your gaze, his chest heaving and strangled breaths leaving his lips.

Your tongue drew small circles on the sac before you took it in your mouth, sucking on them. "Wait, wait," Suguru started off, gently pulling you off, "Need to come inside you." He grabbed your hand, helping you off the floor.

Though the camera was still running on the nightstand, you decided to make mental notes of everything he was saying. Just in case. You weren't even completely sure if you'd remember by the end of the night. Suguru made himself comfortable just like at the start of the night—and the pieces started to click together. No way the man wanted you to ride him now.

"S-Suguru, I can't," the words escaped your lips in a hiss, slowly impaling yourself onto the first two inches of the large cock underneath you. Not even enough to completely get the tip in. Each inch felt like it was splitting you apart all over again.

"Yes you can, you're taking it so well baby," Suguru cooed, watching as you slowly sunk yourself down on his cock. Squeezing the life out of him while you tried to find your momentum.

You could already imagine the words on your tombstone— death by monster dick.

Suguru placed his hands on your hips, gently squeezing the flesh to ease your movements. "There you go, that's it. That's it, take it for me," he encouraged your movements with each bounce you were giving on his—the symbiote's(?)—cock.

Suguru looked over to see his cock nudging a bulge in your tummy when he thrusted up into you, the sight nearly having him close to an orgasm again. He thrusted in deeper, watching how the tip protruded with each one. "S-Sugu, you're in too deep," you moaned out, practically feeling the man in your guts. And he wasn't even fully in. You wouldn't be surprised if he could reach your guts.

Your hips gyrated, trying to keep up some sense of rhythm. You pressed your hands firmly against their chest for some semblance of balance, feeling the goon underneath your fingertips sticking to your fingers. "Take it, take it," Suguru let out a moan of his own, his fingers digging into the soft skin of your hips. His feet pressed against the mattress, using you like a toy as he thrust himself in and out of your cunt.

"S-Sugu, too much, too much," you babbled out, struggling to keep up with the pace you'd set for yourself. That, and the absurdly big dick jackhammering you.

"You tired, baby?" His tone was sickly sweet as he spoke, pulling you off his cock and setting you down on the bed. "It's okay, I'll take care of you now. Just lay there and look pretty."

Suguru's body began to change back into its original form, the symbiote retreating back into his body. Thick, extensive tentacles protruded out of Suguru's back, each one wrapping around one of your limbs. Suguru slowly rubbed his cock across your folds, covering his length with your slick until it glistened against the moonlight peeking in through the windows.

Suguru slowly pushed the tip inside, feeling your walls tighten up against his shaft. "Is that better?" He looked down to watch for any signs of discomfort, and upon not finding any, he placed your legs up on his shoulders. Using the angle as leverage, hips snapping deeper inside of you.

"Taking everything I give you so well," his finger lightly caressed your cheek, the sharp thrust of his hips completely contradicting the gentleness he was trying to give. Your cunt covered his shaft with your slick, squelching as he slid it in and out of you. "Rub my clit, please, please," you let out a mewl, keeping your gaze directly on his own.

"Can't say no when you beg so pretty," His thumb slowly began to rub your clit, building up your orgasm for the second time tonight. Your walls clenched around him tightly, milking his cock in the process. Everything started to get too much, too little, you weren't really sure what you wanted. The only thing that you did know was, well, you wanted to cum.

“So. Fucking. Tight," each of his words was pronounced with a thrust, sweat dripping down from his forehead and covering his skin. Your orgasm hit you like a wave, a moan leaving your lips as you came. It was both a sight and a sound that Suguru couldn't find himself getting tired of even if he tried. His own hips began to grow sloppy, his thrusts losing all sense of rhythm while his balls continued to grow heavier.

A groan erupted from the back of Suguru's throat, his head thrown back while his eyes barely managed to stay open. "Take it baby, it's all yours," Suguru let out a groan, his hips growing more erratic. Your messy pussy was pushing him closer and closer to his own orgasm. You simply nodded your head against the pillow, your nails digging into his forearm.

"Y-Yeah, all mine," your moan came out so sweetly, being the last thing to push Suguru over the edge. Ropes of cum spurted deep inside of your cunt, filling you up almost immediately. He didn't bother to move just yet, remaining buried deep inside of your cunt. The only thing that he did do was start to press slow, sloppy kisses on your calves before setting your legs down on the bed.

A soft whine left your lips when Suguru pulled out his twitching cock, the tentacles retreating back inside of him. Globs of cum dripped down out of you, streaming down your thighs and ass. "I never harmed anyone in what I've been doing, by the way. I don't want to harm anyone, I promise. I'm still your Suguru," he whispered, low enough to where your phone wouldn't pick it up.

"Still your Suguru. Your Suguru," Entrusting those words to you and you only. His thick fingers pushed inside of your dripping cunt, pushing his cum back inside of you. Filling you completely yet again. Suguru pulled out of you once again, wiping his hand off with a rag on the bed stand.

"You okay?" Suguru whispered, using the rag to gently wipe away the sweat that dribbled down your forehead. One of his hands reached down, fingertips gently rubbing against your thighs in a bleak attempt to soothe the ache.

"No, think you and that cock earlier might've broken me," you mumbled, your voice coming out hoarse. At this rate, you'd have a noise complaint taped to your front door first thing in the morning. Suguru reached over for the nightstand next to you, opening up a water bottle. "Sit up for me just a little."

Your body ached even further, pushing yourself so at least your head would be straight. "I know, I know it hurts," Did he really? Suguru took a hold of your chin, lightly tipping it up before giving you slow gulps of water. Your throat cleared up with each sip, but you could practically feel your body crying out underneath you with each second you stayed up.

"You're okay, pretty girl. I'll take care of you, did so good for me," Suguru murmured praises against your back, wrapping his arms around your stomach and keeping you close. Keeping you far warmer than any blanket you've bought as of yet.

Silence clung onto the room, but it was a comfortable silence this time around. All of the previous tension had disappeared, leaving the two of you spent. "I know you're still my Suguru, but thank you for answering the questions. You scared the shit out of me when you popped up in the suit."

"I know. Wouldn't hurt you or another person, though. Please trust me," Suguru peppered a kiss onto your upper back, continuing with his gentle motions. After nearly splitting your body in half, he was being delicate. Keeping you safe and assured.

Suguru looked over at the drawer where your phone rested, remembering all about the 'interview' he'd signed up for. "I'm gonna go see how photogenic we were, I'll be right back," He spoke quietly, pressing a small kiss onto your forehead before getting up from the squeaky mattress. It'd been a miracle that the old thing hadn't given out just from tonight.

"Yeah, okay," you spoke through ragged breaths, watching him stand up and move through the shadows of your room. Suguru took his time in picking your phone up and looking through it, watching every second of the 'film.'

"Think we're gonna have to do re-do the interview," Suguru noted, watching through the footage recorded. The phone had toppled over around 1/3 into the video, completely coming to a stop shortly after with a 'storage full' pop-up. Your chest heaved, barely registering any of the words he was saying. Interview..?

Oh, right. The Venom article you still had to finish writing. By tomorrow. Very important.

"You don't mind that right, baby?"

(a/n: this is like the first time i’ve tried writing monsterfucking so if it’s buns, don’t let me know ❤️)

[msgses]

trick or treat

pairing: josh washington x gn!reader w. 1,491 genre: suggestive horror, shameless smut summary: out exploring the mountain for halloween, you come across a lodge. thinking it's abandoned, you head inside not knowing what (or who) you'll find. warnings: very dubcon vibes, questionable morality, implied afab anatomy. no use of y/n. rough sex, choking, creampie. a/n: this is my first until dawn fic! i still plan on doing one for mike i just thought josh would be a perfect halloween fic

READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION. MINORS DNI.

There was a lot of intrigue surrounding Blackwood Mountain and the horror stories surrounding it. Deciding you wanted to go out and have fun on Halloween, you decided to get into some heavy clothing and make the trek up to explore the site of the rumors.

The trip up was agonizingly long, and the cold weather and snow didn't make it much better. Though, you still decided to continue exploring and came across a few fun spots.

There was a shed that looked awfully cozy, but unfortunately was locked. If it worked out, you might've spent the night if it meant not having to go back down the way you came in the freezing cold.

As you traveled up the trails, you noticed a large building in the distance. Already feeling like you could get hit with frostbite any minute, you decided to check it out.

It was a huge lodge, and you could see all the lights were off indoors. Getting to the windows, there wasn't any sight or sound of anybody inside.

When you tried the door, it surprisingly opened without a hitch. The inside of the house was eerily quiet. Abandoned, maybe?

Investigating further found that there were obviously people that had lived there, but weren't around. The rooms were empty and only a few stray pieces of clothing or a beer can was any sign of life. The heating was still on, luckily.

So, you decided to check out the fridge. If you were going to make the place your house for the night, you wanted food.

Just as you were opening the fridge, you heard a creak of the floor behind you. Before you could turn, you felt a hand over your mouth just as you attempted to yell.

"No, no, don't yell. You're not in any danger, yet," A man's smooth voice came from behind you, "I'm going to take my hand off of your mouth and you're going to tell me your name."

Just as he said he would, his hand traveled off of your mouth and lightly wrapped around your throat. Fumbling on your words, you sputtered out your name.

He repeated it into the air multiple times before chuckling softly. You could feel his breath against the back of your neck. "That's a pretty name. What are you doing out here all alone on the mountain?"

Your brain felt like it was going blank. "I just.. I wanted to see what all of the horror stories were about. If there really were monsters up here."

"Not the kind they talk about, no," His grip tightened slightly, "But there are monsters up here. Ones that are very territorial."

You felt your pulse rising in your throat and it only seemed to be getting faster. Your mouth felt dry and you weren't ignorant of what he meant. "Who- who are you?"

"Oh, honey," You felt him get right next to your ear, "I'm one of those monsters. You can call me Josh, though."

"Josh.." You had to think about it. You knew the history of the mountain from the google deep dive you did the night before. "You're Josh Washington, the son of the rich guys that bought this mountain."

"Ding ding ding, we have a winner!" He backed away, hand still on your neck as he raised his voice, "Well aren't you a smarty pants?"

You felt your cheeks flush and your mind raced with questions. "What are you going to do to me?"

That drew Josh back in, although this time he pressed his body firmly against the back of yours. A very obvious bulge pressed against your ass and you swallowed hard. "I'm going to show you what one of those monsters do when someone comes into their territory."

"Don't.. don't hurt me," You pleaded, although it sounded pathetic and weak.

"I won't hurt you, or I won't try to," Josh laughed softly into your ear, "You just have to cooperate."

You nodded slowly, feeling uncertainty all throughout your body. What he was going to do was uncertain, although the obvious bulge pressing into you gave you some idea.

"That's good," His voice lowered and his hands hooked onto the thick pants, "You're not going to forget me, sweetheart."

His movements were quick, pulling your pants and underwear down in a quick few tugs. You felt bare and open, sweat collecting on your brow. "Josh.." You murmured.

"Oh, I like it when you say my name," You could hear his grin from the way he spoke, "Keep saying it and maybe I'll be nice."

You felt his hand running over your ass, giving it a firm squeeze and letting out a low groan when his hips rolled forward. His free hand reached down and pulled down his sweatpants and boxers. His cock was painfully hard and you could already tell.

His hand also reached forward and pressed a finger against your hole, teasing it and chuckling. "Someone's desperate for me, aren't you? Pretty thing."

You couldn't suppress the whine that left you, subconsciously pushing back against it. He seemed to notice and gave in, his finger sinking inside slowly. It drew out a gasp, but you kept your composure as he worked it in and out.

"God, you're wet. I'd have half a mind thinking you walked in here wanting me to fuck you," He teased, pushing his finger in rough and adding a second to go along with it.

The stretch burned, but you were still breathy and overwhelmed by the feeling. "Josh," You could hardly get the word out.

You heard him laugh behind you. "If you say my name like that, I can't promise I'll be able to control myself," He withdrew his fingers and you felt his cock press against your hole, "Say it again."

You felt his hand close around your neck tighter, but you still got it out. "Josh." You repeated firmly.

"That's right," He sounded satisfied with himself before pushing his hips forward.

His cock was thicker than you anticipated and you fell against the refrigerator door, trying to catch your breath. His hand slipped off of your throat and both of them grab onto your hips.

His pace started out steady, even though you hadn't had nearly enough time to adjust to his size. Either way, he was going full steam ahead. Your hands closed around the fridge's handle, holding on for dear life.

"Fuck, you're so tight, did you know that?" Josh's voice sounded rough and airy, "So tight I never want to stop fucking you. Never gonna stop, you hear me?"

All you could let out was a broken moan, his steady pace felt unrelenting and hard to process anything around you. "Fuck, Josh.."

"God, baby, keep saying that," He wrapped his arms around your waist and began pounding into you. His thrusts felt desperate and unhinged.

"J-" You were cut off by his incessant pace, being completely overwhelmed by the pleasure of his cock hitting deep inside you.

He seemed to slow down, back to his pace from before, although he was letting out small whiny sounds. "You feel so good, can't help myself, no... gotta have you.."

His ramblings began to drone on, his voice quiet and largely overshadowed by the sound of his hips connecting with yours. Before you could say anything else, he randomly began to speed up again.

Just like before, he was fucking into you ravenously. He sounded like a mess, much like yourself. The feeling of his cock pushing into you over and over had you without any warning had your brain turning into mush.

It wasn't long before you felt a surge of pleasure, letting out a choked moan as you came around his cock. It was sudden and fast, but prolonged by his relentless pace.

You heard him whine behind you, his fingers digging into your hips. "Fuck, you can't just.. that felt so fucking good, I can't stop.." His voice sounded completely foreign to the confident, intimidating presence you heard before. He was gone.

It was even more sudden that he slammed into you, his hips staying firmly pressed against you as he moaned out. You felt a warm sensation and the pieces clicked together just as he started to speak. "Fuck, that's it.. you're all mine."

His hips slowly rocked before pulling back, feeling his cock slip out of you. Your knees buckled and you collapsed onto the kitchen tile, feeling his load begin to seep out of you. "What did you.."

"Monsters like to claim their prey," Josh said, his voice back to his intimidating persona. "Now they'll know you're mine."

"Yours?" You said as you looked up, seeing his face for the first time that entire evening. He was far too attractive for his own good. "I'm nobody's, Josh."

"Oh, is that so? Maybe I didn't make it clear enough. Let's do it again and learn, shall we?"

[gremlingottoosilly]

Actress!reader who played one of the victms in Slasher!Konig documentary

You look pretty in red. Surprisingly, Konig knew it even before seeing you in person. Cutting you in person. You look good on that TV of his - your eyes wide open, your lips trembling as you were trying to fight over the actor who played him. Konig calls bullshit immediately - the girl that you were supposed to be playing with didn't fight at all, just fawned over his knife and let him get bored easily while playing with her guts. He didn't even get hard from squeezing her heart in his hands - another surprise that almost made him think something was wrong, and he actually started to become normal. Oh, but you looked so nice on the screen. So defiant and pretty, with a few exploitative shots of your tits like he'd actually bother to undress the victim before killing them. He liked the detail, especially the angry flair in your eyes...and they way you'd eventually submit to his actor, letting him "kill" you. Although seeing another man playing with you like this made him more jealous than what he'd like to admit. Oh, but now he wants to find the director of that shitty documentary and give him something nice, a little gift - for all the unnecessary shots of your pretty face stained with blood and your perfect body all on display.

Oh, but you're even prettier in person. God, Konig can't contain his excitement. You weren't filming on an actual location, of course, so you wanted to check out the forest in question. Maybe get some of the energy for your next role - you didn't know the "based on real events" before your first-ever horror documentary was so literal. You thought it would be kinda like that Annabelle movie - but with maniacs instead. It wasn't. And Konig makes sure you look even prettier, covered in red in person than you did on the screen. He doesn't kill you, of course, his morbid curiosity already satisfied with your role in the movie. Now, he wants to explore something else - something deeper, stronger. Something that would make your flesh sing under his touch...and of course, ripping your panties and burying his tongue between your thighs is just the way to go. You weren't like this on the movie screen, you're not acting now - it's all just for him, something unique for a man who wanted this for so, so long. Let's just hope you're good enough of an actress to play the role of a devoted housewife for a deranged slasher.

[kiiwiigii]

Table Sex

Emmett x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Emmett make the most of your alone time... unfortunately for Esme's table.

Warnings:

NSFW 18+

Smut

Cuteness

Word Count: 1.7k+

Requested?: For Kinktober!

Playful and happy table sex with Emmet like it'd be so sweet but also definitely result in a broke table 🤣

A/N: That poor, poor table.

I gave a small shriek as I did my best to out maneuver Emmett, which considering how big and burly he was, wasn't all that hard. However, he did have the advantage of speed, which I sorely lacked. I was only human after all. It wasn't long before I felt his giant hands catch me around the middle, swinging me around in a backwards bear hug.

"Okay! Okay! I give!" I giggled.

He twisted me around, lifting me up by my bum as I wrapped my legs around his waist and draped my arms around his neck.

"I told you that you couldn't escape from me." He grinned up at me, nudging my chin with his nose. "Now, what's my prize."

He gave my buns a little squeeze and I wriggled and gasped, pretending to be scandalized.

"Why Mr. Cullen! What makes you think you win anything?"

"Ooh, Mr. Cullen. I like the sound of that." He wriggled his eyebrows at me, to which I just rolled my eyes.

"You know what I like the sound of? Freedom. Now put me down, you heathen."

"Not till you tell me what my prize is."

I looked into his golden eyes, doing my best not to become mesmerized, a battle I was quickly loosing.

"Me." I sniffed, looking away rather snootily and trying not to smile. "What else would you need?"

"Perfect."

He was practically purring and my heart leaped a little in my chest. That purr usually signaled some rather… intimate activities and I looked back at Emmett with narrowed eyes.

"Emmett." I warned.

"Yes?" He replied innocently as he began to walk toward the dining room.

"What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that everyone else is out hunting for the weekend." He began. "And I have my beautiful girl all to myself. Completely alone."

Emmett sat me down on the dining room table, keeping himself wedged between my legs as he wove his hands into my hair and tilted my head back to kiss me. I giggled, letting my hands drop down from his neck to grasp at his shirt. Which I would very much like to see gone. As if reading my mind, Emmett broke the kiss and leaned back for a moment, swiftly removing his shirt. I barely had time to admire his muscled torso before he swooped back in and kissed me again.

His cool tongue swept across my bottom lip before delving into the heat of my mouth, and I couldn't help the moan that bubbled up from inside me. I could feel him grin against my lips, giving me a playful nip. I let my hands wander across his rock hard skin, the iciness sending goosebumps through my body, my nipples tightening and begging for attention. Emmett's hands cupped my neck, his thumbs stroking across my jaw softly before exploring further downwards and cupping my breasts.

I sucked in a breath, whining a little as he gave my nipples a light pinch through the fabric of my shirt and bra.

"I think you are wearing far too many clothes, Y/N." He whispered, nipping at my ear.

"Funny," I breathed. "I was thinking the same of you."

"Hands up, baby. Before I rip your shirt off you."

"You wouldn't dare."

There was a sudden tearing sound, and my mouth popped open to see that my shirt had been ripped right open, exposing my rather lacy bra. Emmett eyed my chest greedily, licking his lips. I just glared up at him as he went to grope my breasts.

"You know Alice is gonna kill you right?"

Emmett stopped, his hands in midair as his eyes went wide in horror.

"I… I obviously did not think this through."

"No. No you did not."

"Maybe I should start running now." He smirked.

"Don't. You. Dare." I hissed at him, grabbing him by the neck so he was eye level with me once more. "You're going to finish what you started. And then you can fuck off into the wild blue yonder, and if you're lucky, you might avoid Alice's wrath."

Emmett snorted, bringing me in for a soft kiss. "I love you."

"I love you, too, baby."

He kissed me deeply, his hands slowly peeling off my shredded top and my bra following along with it. His icy hands kneading my warm flesh before pinching and rolling my nipples between his fingers. I let out a small gasp, my head falling back to expose my neck, which Emmett took full advantage of, his lips latching on and sucking. There would be bruising hickeys there in the morning, and I was certain Emmett was purposely leaving them in places where they could easily be seen.

I dug my nails into his skin softly, and suddenly I wished I was already a vampire, just so I could leave marks along his back, laying my own claim.

I felt his hands finally trail their way to other areas, one around my back and the other to cup my soaked mound through my shorts, rubbing me rather harshly with his thumb. He then kissed his way down my neck, licking and nipping until he found my nipple, sucking it into his mouth with one long swift move.

I gasped, my back arching of its own accord, silently willing Emmett to touch me more. His hand continued to rub my mound, my clit getting just the slightest bit of stimulation from the combination of the jean material and the lace of my panties rubbing against it.

"Fuck." I moaned, threading my fingers through Emmet's hair, letting my hips begin to gyrate against his hand.

Emmett groaned, biting my nipple gently before pulling back and holding his fingers to my mouth. I took them without a second thought, eyes widening when I tasted my arousal on them. I had soaked through not only my panties but my shorts as well. His eyes darkened.

"I don't think I can wait much longer, love." His voice had gone husky with need.

"Then don't," I replied, my tongue snaking out between his fingers.

Emmett growled, lifting my ass off the table and pulling my shorts and panties off swiftly, followed by his own pants and boxers. My eyes widened at the sight of him, hard and erect, just for me. He lifted my legs, pulling me right to the edge of the table. He didn't even bother trying to stretch me out before the home run. He simply slid right into me, and I gasped at the sudden intrusion.

"Emmett!" I groaned, my head falling forward onto his chest.

"Sorry, babe. I can't help it."

"Bullsh-"

I yelped as he thrust into me, setting a pace that was fast and hard. Just the way I liked it. I let out a little gasp with every thrust, the very tip of his cock brushing along that sweet spot that had me seeing stars. Before I could comprehend what was happening, Emmett had me flat on my back against the table, and he leaned all the way forward to nip at my lips and jaw. I shuddered beneath him, letting out a ragged moan as the new position caused the heat in my belly to coil, tighter and tighter with each thrust.

Emmett's hands were everywhere, stroking along my thighs, reaching to pinch and pull at my nipples, and even one hand finding its way to the juncture between my legs, rubbing and swirling around my clit, sending sparks of pleasure straight to my pussy.

I could feel something happening, something building up inside of me and I couldn't hold back the moan when it finally crested. My pussy clamped down on Emmett's cock, grinding down on it as I let the orgasm hit me full force, my body shaking with the intensity of wave after wave of pleasure.

"That's it, baby." He breathed, eyes darkening. "Keep coming for me."

"Emmett." I whined.

My body was almost electric as he continued to pump into me and I could already feel the coil beginning to tighten up again, the warmth turning into an almost unbearable heat as he continued to hit my sweet spot. I panted, pulling his lips to mine.

Emmett's next thrusts were almost brutal, slamming me down onto the table and driving himself even deeper into me.

"Fuck!"

The coil snapped again, and this time Emmett came with me, the coolness of his seed bathing my walls and dripping out of me. Suddenly Emmett was catching himself before he collapsed on top of me.

We both paused, breathing hard, and in that moment we both heard a rather ominous creaking. Emmett had just enough time for his eyes to widen before the poor table collapsed from underneath us, sending us both crashing to the floor, him still buried inside me.

For a moment we were too stunned to move.

And then the laughter set in.

I was honestly surprised it hadn't collapsed sooner.

I was completely red with embarrassment but I couldn't stop giggling. Emmett slid out of me and picked me up, careful of the debris and my delicate skin. He held me in his arms, chuckling as he assessed the damage. The table was completely ruined beyond repair, only halfway standing on the other two legs that hadn't given way to our rather… rigorous love-making.

I finally calmed down a little, my cheeks hurting from the silly grin on my face.

"Forget Alice. Esme is gonna skin you alive."

Emmett immediately stopped laughing, looking at the table with wide eyes.

"Fuck."

Suddenly I was standing alone in the dining room, and not even a second later a fully dressed Emmett was back and helping me dress in some of his clothes, since you know, he ripped mine. I spotted the suitcase next to the door and looked up at Emmett quizzically after he helped me into on of his shirts.

"Are we going somewhere?"

"Yeah." He muttered, genuine fear in his eyes.

I raised my brow at him.

"Esme would actually skin me alive and I'd rather not experience it."

Emmett started ushering me out to his Jeep and I just stared at him.

"You're at least gonna clean it up right?"

{Kinktober} // {Masterlist}

Taglist: @alecvolturi @alecvolturiswifeforever @belladonna-xox @hyperuseless @jana-jaeynneee @itsmytimetoodream @lack-lust-3r @lucansmina @pawspurpaw @pooka167 @rosedpetal @targaryenmoony @twilightlover2007

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[spvcekittie]

jinx x fem chubby reader smut like first time (but sweet like a lil vanilla yk)

You’re Perfect

(border creds to @/cafekitsune)

cw. cunnilingus, reader has issues with their body, slight angst (eventful fluff) reader is f but uses they / them prns

pairings. chubby!reader / jinx

wc. 2k

MDNI 18+

thank u so much for the req! i hope i did it justice =^.^=

you’d never imagined your first time with jinx to go this way. but you soon realise you wouldn’t have it any other way; jinx’s lips on yours, coaxing soft whines and moans from your own, hips moving, slotting between your legs.

you find yourself where you are now when the two of you were having a horror movie marathon; she’d insisted the two of you have one to celebrate halloween. usually you wouldn’t cave, being far too scared of her picks, but with all hallows eve right around the corner, you figured why not. wouldn’t hurt, right?

correct!

you feel yourself jolt at the hand on your thigh, and you see jinx in your peripheral, biting on her bottom lip supposedly to suppress the smirk blooming through. you stiffen.

the two of you had never done anything before— well, that’s a lie. you’d done some stuff, some simple grinding and making out, but whenever she gets too close, too handsy, you always have to tell her no.

she obliges of course, pouting with a curt nod of her head before she settles back beside you with a flop.

you’d always felt insecure in your weight, in the rolls of your stomach, the way your arms seem just about too big to be proportionate. you’d never tell jinx this, as you know she’d just go on a whole tangent. or at least, you think.

what if she just laughs?

what if she laughs in your face, telling you that your suspicions are in fact true?

would she ever want to touch you again?

surely not.

.. does she want to touch you? or does she just feel obligated? surely she does, right? some people feel that way in relationships and jinx’s past would suggest the latter — feeling like she has to do stuff in order for praise, for people to not leave her.

surely not.

you jolt to a halt, eyes frozen and wavering on the tv. you seem to get tunnel vision with the way you stare up at the tv. jinx notices, cocking her head your way and slipping her hand down to your knee, rubbing loose circles into the skin there.

“you good?” she has her usual quip, tilting her head into your line of sight. “you’re frozen like a gargoyle—“

she giggles to herself, before your eyes meet her own. you watch the pink in her eyes shrink at the attention, pupils taking up all the space in her iris. she snaps out of whatever stupor she was in, suddenly adorning an expression of fright.

“shit, did i do something?” she gasps, flinching away from your knee like it was scalding hot. “fuck, i did something! i did something, didn’t i?”

it’s your turn to be mortified, jaw dropping as you bring your hands up, waving them in surrender in front of you. “no, nonono— you haven’t done anything, I swear,”

she blinks, once. twice. three, four times before the weight finally seems to sag from her shoulders. she lets out a breath she hadn’t realise she’d been holding, sniffling out a sharp ‘whew’.

“i just—..” you start, cringing at the way your voice cracks. should you even go there? what if she thinks you’re disgusting for thinking that way?

she seems attentive enough, and you swear if she had ears on the top of her head they’d be standing upright. she perks up, uncharacteristically straightening her usually curved back.

fuck, get over yourself, [name].

“i’m scared that maybe if we ever went further with..” you cringe, scrunching your nose as you ponder the next few words. “y’know. exploring each other,”

you mentally face palm, the comedic slap ringing through your head.

you’re dumbfounded.

“you’d maybe think i was disgusting for the way i look?” you draw out the last word, feeling yourself shudder at the second hand embarrassment.

jinx doesn’t even look phased — at most bewildered.

she sighs, letting her head drop, eyes tunneling down onto her fidgeting hands. she seemed to be nervous for what you wanted to say too, but you’re pulled back from your thoughts at the hand taking your own.

“i don’t… care.” she states simply, sounding almost defeated you’re having this conversation, like you should already know she doesn’t care how you look.

you sag. this is not the answer you wanted, and she notices this.

“no— i do care!” she starts up again, waving a hand in admission. “i just mean i don't mind how you look. i think you’re.. beautiful. i wish you could see yourself the way i do.”

she sighs, scrunching her nose and recoiling at her words like they left a sour taste in her mouth. she hates being open, being honest with you. she’s afraid it makes her look weak, like her vulnerability takes away from the big scary jinx persona she’s built up for herself over the past however long you’d known each other.

( 2 years! )

“you don’t mean that.” you state simply, squeezing her hand in your own.

“what makes you think i don’t?” she queries, eyes flitting up at your huddled form. “you know how much i love you.”

you feel a jolt down between your legs, a familiar warmth blooming in your belly. she seems sincere enough, but that void that fills your lungs seems to only grow thicker and thicker. it almost hurts to breathe.

what if you just let go this one time? this one time? ‘if you hate it you never have to do it again’ you tell yourself. in your head you’re standing opposite yourself, leering over their cowering body before comedically slapping their face, forcing some sense into them.

get it together.

you can’t deny how much you want her, and you feel almost possessed when you lean forward, tilting your head to meet hers. she seems taken aback, moaning softly into the kiss as her hand finds your face.

her thumb meets your jaw, rubbing soothing circles into the bone. you suck in a breath when her teeth meet your bottom lip, and you reciprocate with fervour, clambering to situate yourself over top of her.

she kisses her way down your neck, shaking her head with a curt ‘nuh uh!’. once she has your shirt off she’s turning you so you’re on your back, left flushed beneath her — and most importantly naked.

you feel the most exposed you’ve ever felt, but you don’t feel insecure. under jinx’s warm gaze you can feel just how much she wants you, the way her smile reaches her eyes before she leans in to the junction of your neck. her hands trail upward, sliding further up up up till they reach your chest.

gasping out her name, you buck up instinctively into her touch. you find yourself heaving beneath her hand, swift and admiring grasp at your chest, gently circling over your sensitive nipple.

“jinx..” you sigh, shuddering up into her touch. you feel love drunk, words sloshing together as though you could barely keep your head up.

she seems to notice, humming a chuckle into your neck. that chuckle follows her down, down past your chest, past your stomach where she now sits, laid between your legs. trembling, you can only watch as she situates your legs over her shoulders, holding them there by curling her arms over top.

“you— you don’t have to—“ you’re cut off by a light slap against your thigh. your eyes fall, jaw dropped in a balk to where she’s laid, pointer finger pressed against her thumb where she drags it along her lips. zzzzzzip!

she throws away the makeshift key.

then contradicts the motion like she hadn’t just done it.

“i want to. you hear me?” she tilts her head, resting against the slope of your thigh. “i want to.”

nodding shakily, you allow yourself to situate back against the pillows. you feel at ease knowing she wants this, even if it’s only at least a bit. though she does seem eager; tongue darting out to comically lick at her lip, fingers curling over the laced rim of your panties.

she pulls and you let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding in. fully exposed now, jinx looks like she just won the lottery — if her pupils could shift and change at will she’d be seeing dollar signs right now. she looks between you and your pussy, bringing two fingers down to slide through your slit, gathering up all the slick that’d gathered there.

your underwear is soaked, and you see that now with her jeering beneath you, swinging your underwear jokingly around her finger.

“you’re soaked, baby.” she muses, cocking a brow and letting your panties drop to the floor. “this all for me?”

your body seems to react before your mind, and you’re nodding rapidly, hair shaking from the intensity. she can see you’re eager, and so wastes no more time in parting your thighs. she hums out a sigh, drawing a long inhale up the center, before letting her tongue part your lips, licking her way through to your sopping hole.

the reaction is instantaneous; bucking hips and lips parting to accommodate the sharp gasp that’s ripped from you. the gasp trembles off into a whine when she places a well-deserved flick over your clit, drawing her tongue there for a moment longer just to see you squirm. her hand finds your abdomen, pressing on your stomach to keep you from bucking up from her touch.

she wants control.

your earlier hesitation melts away, dripping off jinx’s tongue and down her chin. you heave, chest trembling at her ministrations. she’s good — far too good. the sloppy sounds fill the secluded room, filling the space with a stuffy heat that feels suffocating. you feel it squeezing at your lungs, encouraging the soft moans you manage to choke out.

she smirks, snarky and knowing. the look in her eyes is almost enough to send you over the edge, the coil tightening a mile in your abdomen. you’re on the brink of an orgasm, legs trembling and brows drawing up right as she makes the move of pressing tight circles into your clit.

“you can come, honey,” she coaxes, pressing soothing kisses over your soaking pussy, now just as soaked as her mouth. “come on, baby.”

peering up and over your chest is the final straw; the sight of her covered in your juices, dripping from her chin. the dark void that drowns the pinks in her eyes, full of lust. the way her purple lipstick is smudged down the corners of her mouth.

it’s too much—

white hot pleasure crushes through your being, zipping up your spine as you finally reach the peak. you hear jinx somewhere beneath you, like she’s cheering you on. you feel her fingers, slim and soaked driving through your slick. the obscene sounds fill the room, against your moans — now bordering pornographic.

it’s a while till you come down fully from your high. hands dragging down the sides of your sweaty face. you can feel just how heated you are, and you know you must be beet-red by now.

the thought makes you flush even more in embarrassment.

jinx on the other hand, seems to be having the time of her life; crawling up your body to curl in beside you, snuggling close to your warmth. she beams from where she lays, resting her head on your chest and peering up curiously at you.

“you did so well,” she comments, stroking a thumb over the corner of your mouth.

she looks disheveled herself, hair frizzy and drawn upright. thank god for the braids, otherwise you’d imagine her hair sticking up in any and every direction ever. this warms your insides, makes it all fizzy. you assume this is what people mean when they say they have butterflies in their stomach.

you smile.

“you’re perfect.”

A.N yay first request done! plz check my pinned for info if you want to submit anything <3

[justnatoka]

Haunted

Poly! The Lost Boys x GN! Reader

A/n: This started as a drabble. Oh well. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Word count: 1.7k

Warning: mention of injury

Prompt: "I'm pretty sure it was a ghost." / "I'm pretty sure it's not." / "Oh really?" / "Ghosts don't bleed."

Summary: After days of running you finally find shelter, both literally and figuratively.

Your panting filled the silence of the empty room, echoing back from the walls of the run down house you were hiding in. It was clear it has been standing abandoned for many years, decay and nature slowly sneaking in through the cracks and taking over. Lucky for you, one of the windows in the back was shattered, probably adventurous teens exploring the place since the door has been boarded up. It was a good enough hiding place for now.

A wave of pain shot through your shoulder as you tried to find a more comfortable seating position against the wall of the kitchen, a nice reminder that you weren’t out of the woods yet. You had been running for days, your body growing more and more exhausted. It looked like you finally managed to lose the hunter chasing you, at least for now. Hopefully, you can spend the day here sleeping.

The next big problem was your shoulder. You had no idea what he shot you with, but it wasn’t healing, not like you usually do. You were more resilient than humans of course, but if you didn’t find some help and soon, you would bleed out.

As you were thinking through your options, trying not to lose yourself to the fear gripping your lungs like a vice at your hopeless predicament, you heard gravel crunch outside. You were instantly on alert, quieting down your breathing, fight or flight taking over once again. You got ready to run if need be. It was possible that it was just some critter scurrying away in the dark, you thought, but then the sound came again and it was clearly something bigger, walking on two feet. As they got closer, you could make out three, four different pair of footsteps. It was not your pursuer, but that didn’t mean they were friendly. In your current state, you didn’t want to risk getting into an altercation with four people, even if they were just ordinary humans. Finally, you could hear them talking too.

“You think it’s haunted?”

“What’s the matter, Paul? Are you chicken?”

“Shut up, Marko. I’m not afraid of anything.”

“Oh, really? Then why don’t you go in first?”

“I will! I’ll show you!”

You heard wood splintering, and it became clear that they were ripping off the wooden planks from the door.

“It looks like no one has been here for a while. I wonder why the humans avoid it so much.” It was a calmer voice that spoke up next, and your brain subconsciously picked up on his word choice.

‘Humans’? Is it possible…?

“I heard that there has been a murder. A man slaughtered his entire family. They probably think it’s cursed.” This one sounded amused, like he was laughing at the fear of others.

“You hear that, Paulie? It’s definitely haunted.”

“Man, shut up!”

They finished dismantling the barricade and the front door swung open with a loud creek. You didn’t take your eyes off the opening connecting the kitchen to the hallway, just a few doors down from the main entrance. As you were slowly and silently backing up to another door behind you, leading to the living room with the broken window, your only escape route, you bumped into a small dresser. To your horror, a glass tipped over and shattered on the floor. Your senses were probably dulled from exhaustion, otherwise you wouldn’t have made such a stupid mistake.

“What was that?”

“Maybe it was a ghost. Let’s go and say hi.”

The footsteps approached and you quickly turned the corner into the living room, just in time to hear them step into the kitchen. They were too close. Then you heard a high-pitched screech, and someone fell over laughing.

“What the hell, Marko? Not cool, man, not cool! Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“You should have seen your face! Ow! Stop punching me!”

“What’s going on, boys?” The other two arrived to the kitchen as well.

“That glass broke, and I think I saw something move through that door over there. I’m pretty sure it was a ghost.” The voice belonging to ‘Paul’ said.

“I’m pretty sure it’s not.” It was the calm one this time.

“Oh really? How do you know, Dwayne?”

“Ghosts don’t bleed.”

Silence. Shit. Some of your blood was probably smeared on the wall you were leaning against earlier. You eyed the window. If you could make it there and get outside, the way is clear to the tree line. You can hide in the woods. But if you make a run for it, they would definitely hear it. Oh well, it’s not like you had anything to lose. You glanced back one more time towards the door to the kitchen before quickly turning around to bolt. You didn’t even make it two steps before bumping into something solid and someone grabbed hold of your arms. You panicked, clawing and scratching and hitting any surface you could reach, struggling and hissing, but you couldn’t overpower them. Myriad thoughts were running through your terrified brain. How is this possible? Why can’t I get free? I’m injured and exhausted, but I should still be stronger than an ordinary human. What are they going to do to me? Is this where I die?

“Look what we have here, boys,” came an amused voice from above you, and as you looked up, you stared into the striking blue eyes of the stranger. You quickly took in the scruffy face and the bleached blond mullet before trying to get away once again. You could sense the others stepping into the room behind you. You were surrounded. In your last desperate attempt you vamped out, baring your sharp teeth and hissing in the stranger’s face. His expression changed instantly, the smirk melting off his face. But instead of jerking away from you in fear, his brows furrowed, a frown turning down the corners of his mouth.

“They are one of us,” you heard from behind. The man holding your arms was looking you over more carefully now, his scowl deepening at the sight of your frantic eyes and torn clothes, gaze immediately drawn to your wounded shoulder, still oozing blood through your shirt. His eyes finally met yours once again, now full of concern and, to your amazement, glowing yellow in the dark.

“What happened to you, sweetheart?” His voice was so gentle. You felt tears gathering in your eyes and slowly running down your cheeks as you collapsed in his arms, relief flooding your body. They were like you. They can help you. You’re finally safe. The word safe ran through your head over and over again. He wrapped you up in his arms, his hand running up and down your back in a soothing manner, letting you cry into his shoulder.

After your sobs quietened down, he led you over to the beaten up old couch, letting go of you in the process, but staying close. As you wiped the tears from your eyes, your vision becoming clearer, you saw three guys standing over you, all of them full of genuine concern. The one next to you spoke up again.

“I’m David, and this is my pack,” he motioned to the others. One of them, a blond with a friendly smile sat down on your other side.

“I’m Paul, this is Marko,” the one with the colorful jacket and curly hair waved, ”and the big, brooding fella is Dwayne.” He nodded at you in greeting. “What’s your name, dollface?” You muttered out your name, voice still thick from crying. Paul’s smile brightened, immediately making you at ease, your body finally starting to relax.

“What happened to you?” It was David who spoke up again, his voice somber and his face serious.

“Hunter,” you whispered out and they went rigid. You continued. “He’s been chasing me for days. I finally managed to lose him a few towns over, then I found this place. I thought I can hide here for a bit, get some sleep.” Your hand went to your shoulder, their eyes following the movement. “He shot me with something two days ago. I don’t know what it was, but I’m not healing.”

Paul drew in a sharp breath beside you, and you could see from the corner of your eyes as Marko started pacing around, his hands clenching and unclenching in anger. His steps echoed loudly in the silence following your admission.

“What do we do now?” Dwayne asked, his gaze full of determination.

David looked straight at you, his voice calm as he started speaking, but his eyes echoed the same sentiment you saw in all of them. They were not going to let anything happen to you.

“We’re taking you to Max, our sire. He will figure it out what you were shot with and how to deal with it.” He softened a bit as he added. “You’re safe. You’re one of us now.”

This brought fresh tears to your eyes and for the first time in many days, a smile tugged up the corner of your lips.

“Thank you,” you whispered, voice full of emotion.

As you moved to stand up, your legs gave out. Your body has been running on pure adrenaline for a while, not being able to feed while being chased, and it looked like it finally has caught up to you. Before you could collapse to the floor, steady hands took hold of you and you were hoisted from the ground. Looking up, you were met with Dwayne’s warm brown eyes.

“You can rest now,” he said, sending you a small smile as he carried you out the front door, away from the house, away from the fear and desperation. Listening to the murmuring of the others talking, exhaustion finally took you over, resting your head against Dwayne’s solid chest, his steps lulling you to sleep. The future looked just a little bit brighter.

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[myokk]

fast sketch of ominis & fast intro to the ominis longfic I'm working on!! This is going to be the most self-indulgent pride and prejudice ripoff that ever existed, 100% based on the ominis of my oneshot💘

I am just OBSESSED with exploring the idea that he’s a natural legilimens & OBSESSED with the thought that he thinks too much for his own good🫶🫶🫶

Ominis Gaunt has always suspected he is cold-blooded.

It makes sense, really.

He always seems to be cold: frigid, long fingers that are often stiff and difficult to move; goosebumps raising the skin of his arms and the back of his neck any time he walks through the drafty halls of the dungeons; even his eyes, he has been told, are reminiscent of ice. They are apparently quite unsettling. The only time he feels comfortable in his body is when he basks in the heat of the sun.

His earliest memory is of the cold. It went like this: he was four years old: his older brother, Marvolo, had led him outside as a joke, he swore up and down that it was just a small joke, and how was he supposed to know that poor, blind Ominis would not be able to find his way back home? When his parents had finally found him, his frail mother sobbing and holding his tiny, blue, hypothermic body to her chest, Ominis remembers feeling quite perturbed at the disturbance. Couldn’t he just be left alone, in the silent soft snow?

He does not know if he has ever felt warm since.

As he strides through the dungeons, the copious amount of warming charms he casts on himself do not seem to be enough, but he keeps casting them anyways and also: wrapping his wool scarf more tightly around his neck, quickening his pace in the hopes that blood flows more easily through his limbs, wishing that he had remembered his gloves. Winter is always a terrible time of year (this winter more terrible than usual), and every breath of warm air leaves his lips reluctantly. How he wishes that he could just hold on to it a bit longer and yet the warmth leaves him precisely fifteen traitorous times a minute, the frigid air gleefully entering and burning its way down his throat in response. Maybe it’s a punishment of some sort.

His whole life has been defined by punishments and sometimes he preoccupies himself with the thought that it is the only way he can view the world. Most of the punishments are manifested in curses inherited from his family. (His parents and Marvolo insist that they are gifts, but Ominis begs to differ.)

First, his blindness: the only true punishment-curse that even his family rejects: caused by inbreeding, no doubt. He did not cry after his birth and his mother cradled his tiny body in silent arms, lovingly whispering nonsense-evil-Parseltongue to him but when he opened his eyes and she saw a brilliant celestine blue with no iris, she screamed in horror and shattered the frigid peace of the room. His parents tried everything to fix him, make him whole, throwing money at various possible solutions to no avail. Magically induced disabilities are not, apparently, curable by magic.

Ominis is not sure that he hates being blind, although he suspects everyone thinks that he should. It is as much a part of him as his fifteen-breaths-per-minute, and he thinks that vision is not all it’s cracked up to be. He is always terrified at the thought that his tenuous hold on sanity is only due to the fact that he cannot see, until he realizes he shouldn’t be terrified of hypothetical situations that cannot come to pass. He consoles himself with the thought that maybe, if he has had to give up his vision for his sanity, it is a small price to pay. Although, he also thinks sometimes that it would be nice to live a life without any morality holding him back.

He is entirely too introspective, after all.

It is precisely this introspection that is his downfall in this moment (and his cold blood). Ominis is so busy casting warming charms on himself and thinking in circles that he cannot use his wand to help him sense his environment and so he should not be surprised when he crashes into her.

And yet he is. Terribly surprised.

Maybe if he were not so caught up in his own thoughts he could have paid more attention to his surroundings. Instead, he spent too much time ruminating on his reptilian heritage and has now barreled head first into his arch-nemesis.

Rosalie Harris.

The girl who has stolen his oldest friend from him.

The girl who is currently making angry noises as she clambers to her feet and is picking up the things that he has crashed everywhere. Even if he could see, Ominis is not sure he would help her. Helping her would be akin to betraying himself, after all.

“Hey! Watch where you’re - oh, hello, Ominis.”

“Rosalie,” he says shortly, nodding his head where he thinks she might be standing and stepping to the side. He tightens his grip around his wand, feeling the texture of the wood change from rough to smooth as he runs his thumb down it. Smooth where he always seems to worry it, rough where the wood refuses to yield to the brushes of his thumb.

He surreptitiously casts the spell - he has at least done it so many times he no longer needs to say it out loud - and his surroundings light up. Or, he supposes that is the most apt description, considering he cannot actually differentiate between light and dark. He senses Rosalie’s silhouette to his left - she is standing with her arms crossed and her foot taps impatiently as she waits for him.

Waiting for what? he thinks, slightly irritated. She never seems to leave him alone and he wracks his brain trying to think of something, anything he can say to get rid of her.

Maybe if he speaks in Parseltongue, she would finally be scared away for good. He does not really want that second reminder of his family’s curse, though.

His family preferred speaking in Parseltongue with each other, believing the ability made them morally superior to everyone else and Ominis had not even realized until he had arrived at Hogwarts that no, it was not normal. When his name had been called at the Sorting, furious whispers had erupted amongst all the students, and his every step (terrified, confused, unsure - he had still been getting used to using his wand to navigate his surroundings) to the stool at the front of the Great Hall was plagued with a susurration reminiscent of snakes. Except these whispers, sneaking their way into his mind, had been unkind and overwhelming.

(He had not realized in that moment that he was also hearing their thoughts.)

Maybe now, with Rosalie standing in front of him and just annoyingly waiting for Merlin-knows-what, Ominis should use his Legilimency to find out what Rosalie wants. (He hates it, though.) It would not be difficult. (The thought makes him shiver in horror because he doesn’t want to abuse the ability.) He can feel the edges of her mind, her magic, and all he has to do is reach out - she is right there, and -

“Ominis?”

Her arms are crossed, he hears an impatient huff.

Why hasn’t she left him alone yet?

Hadn’t the Hogwarts Express already left the station, bringing all of the students home for the winter holiday? Ominis had thought he would be one of the only students left in the castle, and if he is being honest with himself, he had been looking quite forward to having the place to himself.

Ominis’s winter has just gotten infinitely worse.

Going to Gaunt Manor for the holidays is out of the question (he will not think about the nightmares that have been plaguing him ever since he received the owl demanding he go home), and Ominis does not want to be more of a burden to the Sallows. They already do enough for him over the summer, and Sebastian and Anne have convinced him to go to Hogsmeade with them at least twice over the next two weeks. Besides, with Anne’s curse progressing, Ominis does not want to be in the way.

“Why are you still here?” Ominis asks. He knows his voice comes across as cold as his blood, blunt, but he cannot help himself. Ever since Rosalie arrived - her entrance to Hogwarts also causing quite the stir - Ominis has been intensely annoyed by her presence. She is too happy. Too carefree. Too…well, everything he is not.

And, she does not seem to leave him alone.

Rosalie is always there, always hanging around Sebastian. (Taking Sebastian away.) He even showed her the Undercroft, which had almost caused a rift in their relationship. Ominis could not believe that Sebastian would be so careless, showing someone who for all intents and purposes is crashing her way into their lives, forcing them to pay attention to her. They barely even knew her, and yet Sebastian thought it was a good idea to show her such a sacred place?

(It does not help that she is intelligent, and Ominis has caught himself on more than one occasion about to ask her about her opinion on something before he catches himself.)

“I was looking for you.”

Ominis tilts his head at that and fiddles with his ring. He considers walking away, leaving -

“I mean…Sebastian said that you were also going to be here over the holidays and since everyone else just left I thought -”

“Thought what?” Internally, Ominis winces at the biting tone to his voice. It came out harsher than he intended, his voice loud and echoing through his mind, bouncing off the cold, stone walls surrounding them.

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐂𝐑𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘.

DAY SIX OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN

prompt: slasher au (still takes place in the tlou'verse) + sex in the woods or somewhere public (added bonus if it includes knife, blood, hunter x prey kink)

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, soft dark fic, horror, murder mystery

summary: bodies have been dropping left and right in the most brutal ways in jackson. as the relentless wave of deaths continues, your mind becomes increasingly restless. however, you find a sense of comfort and solace in the presence of joel. who might be hiding secrets of his own.

word count: 10k (i don't know what happened)

warnings: dubcon at the end, knife kink, descriptive canon typical violence, blood & mild gore, grief and death, an unpleasant guy hitting on you, murder, face-sitting, throat-fucking, mutual oral sex (69), dirty talk, possessive!joel, exhibitionism (tommy watches very briefly, he also kisses you in a platonic way), sex in the woods, piv, Joel is actually quite nice if you exclude the murders, mild breeding kink, size kink, little bit of blood kink

a/n: the owl mask joel wears in this to hide who he is is inspired by @softlyspector's post about the tawny owl mug joel uses in tlou part 2 which I still get sad if I think about it for too long 😭

Bodies have been dropping dead all around you long before the outbreak. 

Maybe not in the everyone-you-know-is-getting-infected-and-killing-people type of way, but more so in a death-never-felt-like-a-stranger-to-you sort of way. Yet, you still don’t know how to deal with death. Your grief is as violent as a butterfly flapping its wings; the strength of it non-existent but you never know where, or when, it’ll cause a storm. 

First, it was your grade school teacher. You didn’t have a particularly strong bond with her but you did like her. You still remember how your friend's voice quaked as she gave you the news on a landline. You couldn’t believe it and had to accuse her of making a joke, even though you knew she would never joke about something like this. Then your dad took the phone from you and you just assumed your friend's mom did the same. The next week, when you went back to school and the funeral was now behind all the children in the classroom, the custodian cut the last tablecloth your teacher had used for her desk and gave a piece to each and every one of you. It was a vibrant orange cloth with daisies scattered around – ugly, but you still cherished it.

Then it was your pets, grandparents – there was also the time when your pet-crazed neighbor adopted another smaller dog while she still had two untrained, over-energized dogs, and the two twins ripped the other dog apart. You had seen the carnage. By some miracle, that small, fluffy dog named Sugar was still breathing, alive. You had held a blood bag over the dog's head, hoping that the small animal wouldn't die.

She didn’t die that day, but it sure as hell left a scar on you. 

As a kid, you never seemed to quite grasp the ways of grieving. You didn’t get angry. You didn’t cry. You just. . thought about it. However, the emotions came differently when you became an adult. Now when someone close to you died, you felt it more violently, oddly enough you still fought against the tears and only cried when you were alone. 

On Outbreak Day, you lost everything. 

Your family, your friends—your life, now it was all about survival, but survival towards what, you didn’t know. You killed for it, fought for it. Yet every move you made felt automatic like you were wired to at least try and survive — to wait it out and not be left behind when civilization rebuilt itself once more.

You made some friends along the way and lost some friends too. You locked their faces and their memories in your heart, only unlocking the box when you were truly and utterly alone. 

Then you found Jackson. 

And you met Joel and Tommy Miller.

Your official title is scavenger but you much prefer to label yourself as an explorer instead. 

You’ve adapted to your quite well life at Jackson. You go beyond the borders, sometimes alone and sometimes with other fellow explorers, and gather supplies or try to pinpoint other locations threats might be lurking in. You’re about to go on another trip, this one shorter than your regular one to two-week expeditions, but before heading out you decide to stop by the only bakery in Jackson named The Last Crumb—previously named The Cordyceps Crumb but Maria decided it was in bad taste. You, on the other hand, had found it funny and topical. 

As you patiently wait in line, your camping bag waiting for you outside the bakery, someone bumps into you from behind, then never moves back. 

You turn with a raised eyebrow, not enjoying the close proximity, “Excuse you,” you snap. The man looks at you with a hint of mischief in his eyes, you roll your eyes when you recognize the face. “Move back a beat Tucker, I’m not in the mood this morning.” 

“Someone didn’t get her beauty sleep,” he grins but moves away regardless. “Want me to come with you this time? Sweet thing like you alone out there? It’s ain’t right.” 

“You can barely aim. Why would I want someone that’s most likely to get me killed around me?” 

“I think you’ll find my company to be plenty entertaining.” 

You’re about to gag when the bell of the bakery chimes, the sharp sound echoing through the wooden walls. Your face must've shown immense signs of relief because Tucker turns around to see who you're looking at. His instant frown makes you want to laugh and chuck him between the two men you’d describe as a wolf den. 

“Well, if it ain’t the Miller brothers,” Tucker tuts, attempting to give one of them a friendly pat on the shoulder. He stops midway when Joel’s gaze flits between you and him, his glare hard enough to cut diamonds. 

So he ends up slapping Tommy’s shoulder instead, which isn’t the best thing since you know the younger Miller hates Tucker. But among the brothers, he’s probably the one with less probability of getting your hand bitten off.

“Mornin’ Tucker,” Tommy answers, forcing a smile. 

Joel is less friendly, his words directed at you, “Is this dumbass botherin’ you again?” 

“I wouldn't exactly call a greeting among friends “botherin’,” Tucker says. “We’re just catchin’ up, no need to get your panties in a bunch Miller.” 

“God, you’re one word away from ruining my morning,” you hiss, glaring at the unpleasant man. “And we’re not friends.” 

His brows furrow, eyes going hard with an ugly snarl accompanying them, you feel braver when Tommy and Joel are around so you hold his gaze, not flinching away. 

Tommy is the one to ease the tension. He lays a hand on Tucker’s shoulder and squeezes, drawing the man’s attention away from you. “I’ll get you what you want a’right Tucker? It’s on me. Just go wait outside.” 

“But—” 

“Outside, Tuck,” Tommy repeats and you shudder at his tone. 

Tucker’s shoulders drop, defeated, “Fine, get me a raisin bagel.” 

He doesn’t wait for Tommy’s response and heads out the bakery. You finally release the breath you’ve been holding, your muscles relaxing along with the exhaled breath. Joel is by your side in the blink of an eye, his broad shoulder brushing yours providing comfort. 

“You sure you’re a’right?” he asks, gently curling fingers under your chin. “The prick didn’t do anythin’?” 

“Nah, nothing. He’s all bark but no bite. He asked if he wanted to join me today as if that buffoon wouldn’t get me killed.” you shrug, men being assholes was nothing new to you. You’re just glad that in Jackson it seems that there are more good apples than rotten ones.  “Too bad even paradise comes with drawbacks.” 

Joel snorts as Tommy cuts in, “Maria would be thrilled if she heard you calling it paradise.” 

“What are you smiling at? You think you can find anywhere better?” You playfully nudge Joel with your elbow. “You know there’s nothing but hell out there.” 

“I do, I just think callin’ here a paradise is a bit of a stretch is all.” 

The line moves and the three of you are finally at the counter, “You’re just a grump,” you tease Joel before turning your gaze to Poppy, the barista who knows everything about everyone. “Hey there, Poppy, the usual please.” 

“And a damn raisin bagel,” Tommy adds. 

“Well, isn’t it my favorite trio,” Poppy grins. “I’ll get all that ready for you in a second,” she locks her blue eyes on you and leans closer, you mimic her by instinct. “By the way have you heard of Ian? He wound up dead right outside the chopping block, an axe right through his chest.”  

You frown, “Good morning to you too, Poppy. Jesus Christ.” 

“I’ll confess I didn’t love the guy but isn’t it worrying that there’s a killer among us?” she murmurs while stuffing the goodies in paper bags. “Be careful out there.” 

“Well, if the culprit is here I think I might be safer out there,” you say and turn to Tommy. “Does Maria know?” 

“Of course, she does,” when you part your lips to say more, he lifts a finger and shoots you a crooked smile. “It’s confidential.” 

“Aw man, can’t you just tell us who she thinks it is?” Poppy asks, Tommy shakes his head and she lets out a dramatic sigh, “I miss my murder mystery books.” 

“I’ll try to find you something while I’m out,” you say, ignoring the way your heart began to race. Jackson is still a small town, it’s jarring to think someone might be out there, looking for their next target. “Though I think we could all do with a little less murder.” 

You hadn’t expected your voice to crack but your tone had betrayed you. Poppy extends you the bag of goods and a latte, as you reach out you feel Joel’s hand on your waist. His lips touch your ear. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I’m sure whoever it is is only goin’ after those who deserve it.” 

You lock your eyes with him, blinking heavily at the weight of his words. His voice had dropped, nothing but gravel as he whispered the words into your ear. A cold sensation slithers down your spine, chilling you to your core and making your throat tighten. 

His hand never leaves your waist as the three of you head out, and after a while, that chill slowly dissolves into a pleasurable warmth. 

You find solace in the woods. You love Jackson, but being in the woods away from everyone and everything makes you feel comforted. The first time you went scavenging, there was a slight fear in your movements; no matter how good your aim was, any kind of infected was difficult to kill.

But now you walk with ease. There isn’t an ounce of worry in your bones. The trees rustle happily and the smell of flowers and pine fills your nostrils. You can feel your lungs rejuvenating with every breath. Trickles of orange sunlight pour from the gaps of the trees. The sun sets, meaning you need to set up camp soon. 

While unpacking, you think of this morning. How Joel and Tommy stepped in when Tucker started bothering you. Honestly, you didn’t need their protection; Tucker is just one of those men who think they might have a shot if they bother you enough times. Still, it was nice to be claimed in a way, to be accepted into a family and cared for.

Your breath hitches slightly. Tommy, you see as a close friend, a brother perhaps, but Joel... Joel is another thing. Just thinking about him is enough to start a wildfire between your legs. You wish you were brave enough to do something about it, though. Whenever you two patrol together or stay awake late at night drinking, you always chicken out in the end. It doesn’t matter how his hands linger on your thighs or his eyes drop to your lips; you're just never convinced that the Joel Miller would be interested in you beyond a friend.

An unease starts to settle in the pit of your stomach. As the air grows colder with the approaching night, your skin prickles and you feel the phantom sensation of claws dragging down your back. You set the tent as quickly as you can, your eyes darting around the depths of the forest. Briefly, you bend over to adjust the ropes. 

A breath warm and damp ghosts the back of your neck and you jump, gun in hand as you turn around only to find—

Nothing. 

And no one. 

Your heart is hammering in your chest, adrenaline pumping in your veins, a drop of sweat trickling down your forehead. You've never had a trigger finger, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't want to just shoot every shadow you see.

“Dammit Poppy,” you mutter, annoyed that she gave you the brutal knowledge of Ian’s death right before you were heading out. Guilt stings at your heart. Ian was an asshole for sure, and you don’t exactly feel bad that he’s gone, but still, it was an eerie thought that someone had murdered him so violently. It had to be personal. 

Some part of you wishes Joel was here, or even Tucker, just another human being to tell you you’re just seeing things. 

You take a deep inhale and follow it up with a long exhale. You’re fine. There’s no one here. 

You give your surroundings one last suspicious look before going back to setting the tent. 

No matter how hard you try you can’t shake the feeling of someone watching you amongst the shadows. 

Joel hears crickets and owls. The night had always been his friend since the outbreak. He had become a violent man with an equally violent heart. He waits in the shadows, watching. Laughter and playful shouts echo from the bar, and soon the door swings open; the man he's been waiting for crawls out of the establishment, shit-faced. The drunk man shouts his farewells and staggers toward his home.

Joel follows, his mask heating up the skin that lays underneath. His fingers itch with the need to wring that asshole's neck. One by one, he had been cleaning Jackson for the better. His tendencies subdued while also doing some good. Ian was one of those people who deserved it and Joel had enjoyed the chase, the pleas, he especially enjoyed the way he tripped and cried right before he sunk the blade of the axe through Ian’s chest. 

Tucker trips, making Joel want to laugh. The idiot might not even realize he’s being hunted. Joel looks around, they are far enough for the chase to begin. Tucker continues to slip and fall as he attempts to get up. Taking the opportunity, Joel walks towards him with quick steps, making sure the first thing the asshole sees is his mask. 

Tucker notices him before he gets up, his hands bracing the ground, his eyes go wide, “What the fuck?” 

Joel only tilts his head. He sees the trembles rolling down the other man’s body, he relishes in his fear. 

“Look man, I don’t want any trouble, whoever the fuck you are so. . . scram.” 

Joel’s eyes dart to his hand on the dirt, without a second thought he lifts his foot and curb stomps Tucker’s hand. Then he kicks the side of his face, an audible crunch echoing before his scream could. The man whimpers and falls back in his attempt to crawl away. He holds his jaw, blood streaming down his broken nose. 

“Who the fuck are you?!”  

He steps closer and watches as Tucker’s eyes bug out. He’s too drunk to properly run away or even scream. Such an easy target. He grips the other’s hair and lifts him to his feet, he can feel the strands starting to rip from his scalp one by one, Tucker’s face twisting in pain. “Your worst fuckin’ nightmare,” Joel answers eerily calm. It doesn’t matter if Tucker recognizes him. He’d be dead soon enough anyway. 

“P-Please,” he begs, realizing the same thing. “I’ll do whatever you want promise. I don’t want to die.” 

Joel grunts, not dignifying his pleas with an answer. Lifting his other hand, his knuckles connect to Tucker’s face with a loud crunch, body flying to the ground headfirst. 

He pulls out his knife and drops down, ignoring the ache in his knees, he grabs Tucker’s arm and aligns the sharp blade against his wrist. Tucker notices, his face going pale as a ghost. “D-Don’t—” 

Joel doesn’t bat an eye as blood spurts violently over his clothes and the dirt. Drops of crimson seeping into the fabric. The knife cuts through the flesh like butter, severing hand from bone. His hand clamps over Tucker’s mouth. Joel smiles as his screams bounce off of the palm of his hand. 

You come back to Jackson hand empty and earlier than intended. You were too much at unease, and being so jarred wasn’t the best while scavenging for supplies alone. During your trip, you did end up scribbling something for Poppy. It wasn’t finished but you hoped she would enjoy the first draft of the first chapter. It was mostly descriptions of what you felt, a cat-and-mouse game between two people who had bumped into each other accidentally. 

While heading into Jackson, you notice a crowd in the distance. You promptly get off your horse and walk with haste. You recognize Joel and Tommy easily, both brothers standing on each end of the crowd like gates keeping a herd of sheep in check. Ellie is standing right next to Joel, lifting herself on her toes to see; Joel is holding her back by gripping the cap of her hood.

“What’s going on?” you ask. 

Joel turns to you, his eyebrows raising when notices it’s you and not some random person he has to ignore, “You’re back,” he says. A statement rather than a question. 

“Yeah, wasn’t feeling that well,” you shrug him off. “So what happened?” 

His eyes turn to steel, his jaw locking in place. Before you can ask again, he gestures for you to move up the crowd with a tilt of his head.

“Lucky,” you hear Ellie murmur as you walk ahead, gently pushing those who were looking at the sight with concern. With every step you take, the murmur of the crowd fades into the background, becoming nothing more than white noise. Maria is addressing the crowd, you think, though you're not entirely sure. The scent of blood is thick in the air, disorienting you as you get closer.

Your eyes go wide, the earth slips from beneath you but your expression remains emotionless.  

It’s Tucker. 

You feel as if you’re standing alone. As if you’re the only one taking in the sight of absolute horror and gore. Tucker is lying in a pile of his own blood face first, his eyes are open and lifeless, his one hand is outstretched like he’s about to crawl away.

His right hand, however, is chopped off. 

It’s not even a clean-cut. The edges of his flesh are jagged and crooked, his blood-caked where his hand should be. Whoever did this cut it so it would hurt, so he would suffer tremendously. 

You can’t help but gasp, covering your mouth with your right hand. You begin to shake, confusion churning in your stomach as bile coats your tongue. He’s dead. Just like Ian. 

When Maria’s eyes find your own, she narrows her gaze, a small warning for you to keep it together. You can’t though. How could you? Tucker was alive and kicking a couple of days ago, just being his annoying self around Jackson. 

“Calm down,” you hear Joel mutter into your ear. You shiver at the brush of his lips. “It’s okay. You’re safe.” 

Safe. You want to laugh. You don’t even know what that word means anymore. 

Joel’s mouth moves over the shell of your ear, “He was a nuisance. Don’t feel bad now that he’s dead.” 

“I didn’t want him to die,” you hiss back. “And knowing there’s a serial killer out there doesn’t exactly make me feel safe.” 

Despite your half-angry tone, you find yourself leaning into Joel’s presence. Your shoulder presses into his broad chest, and without missing a beat he wraps his arms around your shaking frame. Relief comes in the form of warmth spreading along your chest, tingles forming at the tips of your fingers and toes. The voices of the crowd gradually come back but you only hear one of the many questions.

“What do you think the message means?” 

Confusion crosses your face, brows furrowing as you try to make sense of it. Joel makes a choked-out sound that could’ve easily been taken as an amused chuckle. 

Then your eyes drop to Tucker’s outstretched hand and his dying message written in blood. 

O W L 

A week had passed since Tucker’s death. 

You've been thinking about both murders relentlessly, trying to piece together everything that you know so far. During this time, you're grateful for Poppy, who comes by almost every night to help you try to solve the case. That's been your sole focus for the past few weeks; you haven't been scavenging since you spooked yourself so badly that you returned early, only to find Tucker dead.

Some part of you thinks that the eeriness you felt that day was a sign of what was about to happen. It's also an odd coincidence that he ended up dead the same night he harassed you in the morning. However, there are no forensic investigators in Jackson, so it’s almost impossible to determine the exact time of death. That fact alone makes you anxious. It only means that whoever is killing everyone has nothing to worry about because even if they leave traces, who’s going to know?

In order to keep your nerves in check you end up writing a lot. You haven’t shown any of it to Poppy yet but you’re excited. You never thought writing a thriller would be the perfect way to escape the horrors of your actual life. At least in your stories, you have control. 

You also visit Joel and vice versa. 

Something had shifted the day he held you as you both gazed upon Tucker’s lifeless body. Maybe it was just you who felt bolder since death was once again right around the corner — or maybe Joel just felt more protective now, wanting to check on you as much as he could.

“You’re really writin’ a whole ass novel?” he asks, pouring you a glass of scotch. You still can’t get over the fact that it nearly tasted identical to the actual stuff. Jackson is truly a miracle; at least when bodies aren’t dropping left and write. 

Ellie’s at a sleepover, which means you and Joel have the whole house to yourselves. With everything going on you’d expect your libido to diminish a bit but it’s as strong as ever, ready to go. 

You smile as he places the glass in front of you, “Yeah,” you say, picking up the glass and heading toward the living room. “I couldn’t find Poppy anything to read and it helps me relax.” 

“Relax, how?” he asks, taking a seat next to you. The couch dips with his weight, and heat crawls up from your chest to your neck when his knee brushes against yours. 

“Well, it’s a horror thing. Horror slash mystery? I don’t know—whatever it is, it’s nice to have an outlet to escape what’s been happening lately.” 

“So to escape brutal murders you write more brutal murders?” 

You chuckle at the way his eyebrows raise, eyes going wide, “I don’t really focus that much on the gore. It’s more psychological, my sweet brute. Things don’t need to have blood to be scary.” 

His grin is wide and instant, dark eyes lighting up with amusement, “What did you just call me?” 

“I. . .” Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, suddenly realizing what you’d said. 

“What cat got your tongue?” he teases. Joel leans closer, fingers dancing along the curve of your shoulder. You can feel the gravel in his voice. “You just called me yours, sweetheart. Does that jog your memory?” 

“I also called you brute,” you quip back immediately, cheeks aflame. “It doesn’t mean anything.” 

“Don’t it?” his palm now presses fully into your shoulder, keeping you in place in case you might run. Joel tilts his head slightly, the plush of his lips only an inch away. “I like you callin’ me that,” the pink of his tongue swipes over his bottom lip. “Say it again.”  

“S-Say what?” 

A small chuckle parts his lips, oddly enough it almost feels like his patience is wearing thin. He comes closer, the tip of his nose brushing yours. “That I’m yours,” he clarifies. “Been waitin’ to hear those words come from your mouth since I met you.” 

“You’re mine,” you whisper against his lips, eyelids fluttering but not quite closing. With the confession, you feel the brush of Joel’s lips on yours. His tongue traces the seam of your mouth. You part for him with a moan, and taking the opportunity, he slides inside, tasting every inch of you. 

His lips taste and feel like the forests you wander off to; it soothes you, calms your nerves, and has the taste of home. They’re chapped from the sun, yet soft. You can’t have enough of him, if he’d offered, you’d gladly kiss him forever. 

Joel parts with a shaky breath, his chest heaving, “And you’re mine,” he groans, his eyes dark with arousal. It’s an involuntary action but your eyes drop to the front of his pants where you see the thick outline of his cock. 

Your mouth goes dry, yet you manage to speak anyway, “Are words all you’ve been waiting for?” It’s bold, you’re highly aware, but you can’t help it when he’s this close. His scent suffocating, pulling you to him like a moth to a flame. 

He stares at you silently. His thumb touches your bottom lip, slightly tugging it down. He’s not smiling anymore, only observing. 

“No,” Joel answers slowly. He leans towards your ears, the thick hairs above his lips tickling your skin. “I’ve also been waitin’ to feel that velvet tongue on my cock, honey. And to feel how tight your throat gets when you take every inch of me.” 

Joel blows a puff of air, it caresses your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He brings your hand to the front of his pants, dragging your palm up and down his length. You shudder. The heat of it seeps into your palm despite the thick fabric of his jeans, you lick your lips absentmindedly. “This is all for you sweetheart.” 

“Fuck, Joel. . .” your eyes roll back when he kisses your neck, open-mouthed kisses laid upon your skin like a gift. Your nipples tighten and if you look down right now, you know you’ll see them peeking through your shirt. 

He reads your thoughts, eyes moving down before meeting your gaze again. “Didn’t know you walked around without a bra, sunshine.” 

“I only go braless when I’m comfortable,” you answer. Joel cups your breasts roughly, kneading the flesh, he simultaneously sucks on your neck, teeth nipping the sensitive skin. “Oh god,” the fabric of your panties grows damp and you clench your thighs together. 

“Not god,” he says sharply, sinking his teeth into you. “Joel.” 

“Joel,” you moan and arch your back, filling more of yourself into his palm. You squeeze his cock, relishing in the way he makes a strangled sound. “I want to suck you off, Joel.” 

“Be my guest.” 

You push him until he’s lying on the couch. You’re about to unbutton his jeans but he stops you. 

“Turn around,” he says. 

“What?” 

His wide grin nearly stops your heart, “Want to taste that sweet pussy, sunshine. Strip down and take a seat.” 

“On—On your face?” 

“Where else?” 

You’re too embarrassed to speak, tongue suddenly too big in your mouth. Quickly, and a bit clumsily, you strip down and turn before straddling his chest. You don’t need to touch yourself to know that you’re soaked. 

You swallow, “I’ve never done this before.” 

His hands come up to cradle your hips, urging you to move back towards his face. You feel the blunt sting of his nails. 

“That’s alright,” he mutters. “I won’t let you fall if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

“I’m more worried about how I’m gonna move, or accidentally suffocating you.” 

“What a noble way it would be to go.” 

“Joel!” you laugh, playfully smacking his thigh. He answers by giving your hips another squeeze, you surrender and move back until you’re hovering over his face. Your hand planted firmly over his hip bones, you lower yourself. You shudder as his tongue licks a stripe between your folds. He moans into your cunt, pulling you flush against his face. 

Meanwhile, you finally unzip his pants and pull his cock out, the heft of it bumping against your nose and lips. You drip at the smell of him and swear he smiles as he sucks on your aching clit, short-circuiting your brain with arousal. His cock throbs in your palm, a drop of precome glistening at the tip. Your mouth watering, you lean forward and clean him off. Another groan echoes within his chest and he thrusts forward, the tip of his cock kissing your lips. 

Eyes fluttering closed, you suck on the bulbous head and force yourself to go down until he hits the back of your throat. You wrap a hand around the base, stroking where you can’t fit, and hallow your cheeks. 

“Come on, sunshine. You can take me,” he rasps. “You’re mine, aren’t you? That mouth is meant to take me.” 

Without waiting for an answer, Joel pushes his tongue inside, your walls clenching around the wet muscle—you let out a loud gasp and grind down, then you feel the sting of his palm against your ass, pain blossoming from where he smacked. 

Your throat rattles with a moan and Joel takes the opportunity to drive forward, your eyes go wide as you feel the length of him sliding down your throat, cutting the air from your lungs. 

“Oh, fuck—” he moans unabashedly, the sounds sending a pleasurable tingle down your spine despite the strain on your throat. “That’s it, sweetheart, just like that. Fuck, fuck—” 

Your throat tightens around him, your lungs starting to burn. His hand caresses both sides of your ass, the abrupt pain of the smack from before subduing, “Relax,” he says, swirling his tongue around your clit. “Breathe through your nose. Just a bit more. . .” 

Your nails bite into his thighs as you attempt to follow instructions. You relax your throat and slowly begin to breathe from your nose. It’s still difficult, but your lungs rejoice in the minimal amount of air that comes through. You make a mess of him. Saliva dripping from the corner of your mouth and down his length. 

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he murmurs. “Gonna fuck that pretty throat now and make this pussy come, understood?” 

Eyes tearing up, you nod. From the way your stomach convulses, you know that you’re close, your skin tight over your trembling muscles. The nod is all that Joel needs from you. Holding you in place, he snaps his hips forward, burying himself completely down your throat while flicking his tongue against your clit. You scream around him, eyes rolling back as he continues to devour you and take you apart at the same time. He licks you with fat strokes of his tongue, a hint of teeth scraping your folds here and there as he fucks your throat with shallow thrusts. 

You’re limp against his broad body, allowing him to use you as he pleases while all you can do is hang on for the ride. Pleasure licks the base of your spine, a searing heat caressing your skin while Joel continues to build you up only for you to fall spectacularly. Your lips start to ache, your throat squeezing around him whenever he snaps his hips forward— 

And all hell finally breaks loose. 

You come undone with a devastating cry only for it to be muffled by his cock going down your throat. You gush around his tongue, soaking his facial hair and mouth, Joel is underrated, licking and sucking until you’re shaking above him, every bit of tension draining from your body. 

Joel comes shortly after, his hand slides from your waist and he manages to reach out in order to hold your head down. You don’t have a choice but to swallow as he spills down your throat, thick spurts of come going down while he shudders and pushes even deeper. 

There’s so much of it, cock twitching and throbbing in your mouth until your mouth sucks him dry. You’re lightheaded from the lack of air; you find that it adds to the pleasure that’s buzzing in your veins, your cunt still pulsing with the heft of him still buried in your lips. 

He pulls out with a satisfied groan and you manage to scoot down so you’re straddling his chest instead of head. Joel caresses your back, the gentle repeated motion sending tingles down your spine. 

“That’s was fuckin’ amazin’,” he says, voice hoarse. “Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” you answer sounding meek. “I think I need some water though.” 

You get off, legs still shaking, but he grabs your hand, halting your movement. “Let me get it for you,” he says, sitting up. 

“I’m already up,” you smile as his brows furrow with worry, the expression warming your heart. You quickly bend down to kiss him and he’s quick to lick himself into your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue. “I’ll be right back.” 

You have no idea how you’re standing while feeling like jello but you manage to get yourself all the way to the fridge. You smile at the coolness touching your warmed skin when you open the door. Scanning the interior, you thoughtlessly rub at your throat in an attempt to soothe the ache a little. You grab the pitcher of cold water and notice a bit of apple pie left over. 

“Hey, Joel?” you call out. He hums in acknowledgment. “Can I have a slice of pie?” 

His humored chuckle follows through, “You can eat the whole damn thing after what you’ve done,” you smile and take the desert out. “Can you bring me a slice too?” he adds. 

You smile and place the pie on the counter. The leftover is already two slices give or take so you decide to just take two forks with you instead of dirting a plate. Looking through the drawers, you try to remember which one is the cutlery drawer. 

On your second try you find something else. 

Something that makes your eyes go wide and heart throb painfully. 

Your hands shaking, you pick up the owl mask from the drawer. The surface is smooth, and the color of it a light shade of brown just like a tawny owl. All the pleasant tingles fade away, the buzz of pleasure in your veins replaced by fear and adrenaline. 

Heading back to the living room, you show the mask to Joel. 

“What’s this?” you ask, your voice betraying your sudden outburst of fear. 

Joel looks up, eyes flitting between you and the owl mask. He raises a brow, his confusion evident across his face. “It’s a mask, sweetheart.” 

“No no, I know it’s a mask,” you answer, breathless. “But why do you have it?” 

“It’s Ellie’s,” he stands up, his pants still unbuttoned but pulled up. You fight the urge to step away, fight the urge to flinch when he touches your cheek. “They were makin’ Halloween masks last year in school. I didn’t even realize we still had it.” 

“Really?” you ask and he nods. 

“Really,” Joel claims your lips in a chaste kiss, thumb stroking lines up and down your cheek. His hand slithers down your arm to your wrist and when he squeezes, you drop the mask. “Why?” he breathes into you. “Is this about the damn thing Tucker wrote down?” 

You remain silent and he pulls away, dark eyes boring into yours. 

“You need to relax, sweetheart,” he mumbles. “Why don’t you just allow yourself to enjoy this? You deserve to be happy.” 

Your eyes widen with surprise, his words crashing into you, “I. . . Do I do that? Really?” 

“It’s normal, darlin’,” he answers. “I’m pretty sure we all have survivor’s guilt.” 

You let out a shaky exhale. He’s right. You were just feeling guilty of being alive when so many had died. Joel smiles back and traces the curve of yours with his fingers. “There’s that smile that I adore,” he guides you towards the kitchen. “Now let’s go eat some pie.” 

No matter what though, you can’t help but turn back to look at the owl mask one last time as it lays lifelessly on the floor. 

“So, tell me about this book you’re writin’?” 

You let out a low laugh, “I already told you about it. What more do you wanna know?” 

You stare at Joel’s back as he takes the lead, he’d decided to join you in your explorations ever since you told him how nervous you had gotten the last time. You had appreciated the gesture but still felt a tad anxious around him ever since you found that damn owl mask— 

A branch snaps into two under your steps and he turns, extending his hand to you. With a smile you allow him to lace his fingers within yours, your stomach jumping a little as he tugs you close so the two of you are walking side by side instead. 

“If memory serves me right we got distracted when you told me about it,” he says with that southern drawl of his. “So tell me again what it’s about.” 

“Okay okay,” you smile, squeezing his hand twice. “It’s all a big mess now but the premise is that there’s this guy obsessed with this woman and he stalks her and no matter what she does, she always feels like there’s someone watching.” 

Joel looks ahead, “Sounds familiar. Isn’t that how you felt last time you were out here?” 

“Yeah, and it’s when I started writing it.” 

“So do these two people know each other?” his tone drops, his fingers suddenly feeling like barbed wire within your hand. You swallow. “I mean in their regular lives, does the woman know that he’s the one stalkin’ her?” 

You roll your shoulders, a weak attempt to shrug off the eeriness that you feel. 

“Exactly. I think that just makes the whole thing creepier. He’s just a normal guy, even a friend, but he’s also the one among the shadows.” 

“Interestin’,” he murmurs. “You think that’s happenin’ to you?” 

“I don’t think there’s someone stalking me, if that’s what you’re asking,” you utter every word hastily, your pulse quickening under your skin. 

His lips curl in a half smile, “That’s good,” he says. “Wouldn’t want you to be laying awake thinking about what might lingerin’ on the other side of the window.” 

“I think I’m more likely to stay awake thinking about infected,” you say with a soft laugh. “But yeah, it’s all fiction. That day I probably just got scared because of what Poppy said about Ian.” 

“Probably,” Joel trails off, his steps slowing. “How do you think it’s gonna end?” 

“W-What?” 

He stops and so does your heart. At least you think it does. 

Joel faces you fully, his presence towering, he grips your shoulders and pushes you back until the air is knocked from your lungs by a tree right behind you. Your eyes go wide. He leans in, breath tickling your lips. 

“How do you think your book is gonna end, sweetheart?” he asks again, eyes gleaming with something dark. “Is the guy gonna get the girl?” 

“I—I don’t know.” 

All you can think about is the owl mask and how it would perfectly fit his face. He cocks his head and taking a step closer, he slips a leg between your thighs. Slick gathers at your underwear—he feels the fabric dampening on his leg and grins. 

“Fear turns you on doesn’t it?” he purrs. “Wicked thing.” 

Relief drowns your senses. So that’s why he got all weird suddenly, he’s just teasing you. With a laugh, your head falls back against the tree trunk, “Jesus Joel, you scared the shit out of me.” 

“It ain’t my fault,” he says, nipping at your chin. “You’re easy to scare.” 

“Well, two brutal unsolvable murders will do that to a girl.” 

Joel lets go and pulls away, smiling as he shakes his head, “What’s it gonna take for you to believe I had nothin’ to do with those? Even in death, Tucker causes nothin’ but fuckin’ trouble for me.” 

“You don’t need to do anything, I’m sorry,” you pull him back, relishing in the way his strong arms wrap around your frame. “I’ll stop being such a chicken, promise. I’m still a bit jittery that’s all.” 

“I forgive you,” he says against your lips, kissing you quickly before pulling you away from the thick trunk of the tree. “Now let’s find a place to settle down for the night.” 

When you two return to Jackson three days later, the first thing you notice is the crowd. Your stomach drops at the familiar sight and instinctively you reach out to Joel, lacing your fingers together. He squeezes your hand two times. 

The last thing you should be feeling is relief that now it’s not possible for Joel to be the one killing all those people but alas, that’s all you feel. Relief and love. 

The trade fair sprawls before you. Stalls with makeshift awnings, tattered banners, and worn tarps create a patchwork quilt of colors, beneath which a diverse array of goods is proudly displayed. The air is thick with the scent of freshly baked bread, the tang of cured leather, and the earthy aroma of herbs. Laughter, chatter, and the occasional clinking of metal form a lively symphony, a chorus of life that drowns out the ever-present background hum of death and infection.

You’ve always enjoyed the time of the trade fair. People move like busy ants, weaving between the stalls. Children, their cheeks dusted with earth, dart through the crowd, their carefree laughter that should be comforting doing the opposite. Since Tina’s death— she was one of the council members— you had been sleeping at Joel’s. Neither he nor Ellie seemed to mind you staying there. 

The purpose of the fair is to exchange goods – to exchange, to connect, to share stories of survival.

Your eyes scan the crowd for Joel's familiar silhouette. He and Ellie had headed out before you since you wanted a change of clothes. Just as your gaze begins to falter, a voice reaches your ears. "Hey!" It's Poppy, she waves you over.

You navigate your way through the bustling stalls until you stand before Poppy. She's leaning against a rough-hewn post, a glint of excitement in her eyes. 

“Hey, Poppy,” you greet her with a smile. “I’m looking for Joel, or Ellie, have you seen either of them?”

“Well, Ellie is with Dina, hanging out,” She points to the forest that skirts the settlement. "I saw him heading that way not too long ago."

“Alright, thanks. I’ll see you later then,” Waving her off, you head after Joel. 

The trees are a bit more scarce here, there’s more room between them. The forest opens up, revealing a sprawling expanse that stretches as far as the eye can see. It's a stark contrast to the dense woods you often travel to, where the trees stand like guardians, their branches interlocking in a tapestry of shadow and light. Here, the gaps between the trees create pockets of sunlight that dapple the forest floor. 

However, the expanses between trees can be deceiving, and without the markers and familiarity of the well-trodden paths closer to home, it's easy to lose your way. 

For some reason instead of calling out for Joel, you decide to wander aimlessly. You’re not sure why. You don’t come to this side of Jackson often enough to feel comfortable with your surroundings and shouting his name would definitely be easier than walking without aim. 

Soon enough you hear faint murmuring beckoning you deeper into the forest. 

Survival instincts kicking in, you slow down your steps, making sure to step onto clear dirt instead of gravel or fallen branches. Hiding behind a rather large tree trunk, you stare ahead. In the distance, you see two men: one with his back against the tree, while the other holds him by the neck, the sharp blade of his knife catching the sunlight and reflecting it directly into your eyes.

You hold your breath and your eyes go wide. You hear the thrum of your heart. It’s the killer. It has to be. 

You can’t quite hear them but you can decipher the tone of begging for one's life. The man holding the knife tilts his head slightly, your mouth waters at the prospect of finally seeing the murderer's face—

It’s the mask. 

The same mask you found in Joel’s home in the shape of an owl. Your stomach churns violently, bile raising to your throat as you watch on. You rub at your eyes, take deep breaths—anything you can think of that would erase the image before you. 

Goosebumps raising across your skin, you shake your head. It can’t be Joel. He was with you the day Tina died and no matter how competent he was not even he could be at two places at once. 

A muffled scream echoes within the forest and your eyes snap to the two men, the owl had driven his knife into the flesh and bone. He pulls it out, and the body falls. You recognize who it is; Jacob. You heard his name a couple of days ago from Ellie, he was bothering both her and Dina because they were hanging out. 

He’s still alive when the killer stomps his head in, blood splattering across the leys. 

You’re frozen in place. Your throat dry and tongue motionless. The killer kicks Jacob one last time for good measure and finally stops. You observe the way his shoulders drop as if a great weight had been lifted off of them, then he looks up into the sky, the golden sun highlighting his mask. 

Very slowly, he lifts his hand and takes it off. 

Every feeling comes rushing back, too fast and too soon. Your tongue is alive again and so is your body, the world is suddenly vibrant with life and horror. The sun continues to caress the countenance of the unmasked killer’s face, his sunkissed skin the perfect canvas to soak up the light. 

Joel. 

You take a step back, every thought of precaution dropping from your mind. The forest starts to spin. It spins and spins and spins until the ground slips from beneath your feet. You catch yourself at the very last second. 

When you look up you see his gaze staring directly into yours. 

“Fuck,” you hiss out, quickly staggering up. The last thing you see before you start running is his extended hand as he tries to reach out for you. 

“Wait!” 

You don’t. You do the exact opposite of that. You run. You run for your life and those in Jackson at the fair. 

You run with memories loud in your mind. How Joel had listened to you, comforted you, fucked you—

Tears sting your eyes. Every part of this feels like a nightmare that you hope to wake up from anytime soon. But as the wind hits your skin, you know that every part of this is very much real. Your chest burns from how fast you’re going, your legs starting to falter underneath you. 

Before you can react, an unexpected force slams into you. The impact sends shockwaves through your body as you collide with something—or is it someone?—their presence as jarring as the jolt itself. Your momentum falters, and for a fleeting moment, time seems to slow as you stumble, desperately trying to regain your balance.

Two arms grab at you and without even seeing who it is, you start to push the person away, fighting against it like a wild animal. 

“Let go of me! Let go of me!” 

“Hey hey hey,” you hear a familiar voice repeat. “It’s me, you’re okay,” you’re shaking all around, only when you feel his hands cradle your cheeks do you open your eyes. He smiles when he sees your eyes flicker in recognition. 

“Tommy?” you whisper. He nods and without a thought you jump him, wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging him close. His arms coil around you in response, promising to not let go. “Oh, thank fuck it’s you.” 

“What happened? Are you alright?” 

“I—I am okay but—Joel—It’s Joel, Tommy he’s been the one behind all those murders. We need to warn everyone, we need to tell Maria!” 

You grab his arm and tug him along toward what you assume is the right way out of the forest. He remains still. Turning around, you shoot him a confused glance. 'Tommy, we need to tell people.'

“Can’t let you do that sugar, sorry.” 

“Why. . . Why not?” you let go and slowly step back, heart pounding. “Is it because he’s your brother?” 

You wish that was his excuse. Some moral obligation towards Joel because he’s his brother, that you can relate to. Your heart still pounds for Joel and in your brain, you’re still desperately seeking an explanation. 

But Tommy allows the silence to linger, your fear and worry quickly turning into anger. 

“Fine, I’ll tell them. It’s wrong.” 

It only takes a blink of an eye; you feel Tommy’s iron grip around your wrist, yanking you back into his chest. He holds you. Oddly tender for someone who had made your arm nearly fall out of its socket. You thrash within his arms, pulling and hitting his chest. 

“We’re doing good,” he grunts. “You gotta see that.” 

You refuse to listen, your ear narrowing on the sound of your own blood rush instead of his words. By some miracle, you manage to slip your arm out and punch him square in the chin. It was a weak punch but strong enough to startle Tommy. 

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart, calm the fuck down—” he tucks your arm back against your body and turns you around so your back is flush against his chest. You’re breathing raggedly, chest rising with every deep gulp of air. His lips touch your ear, his tone menacing, “I really wish you would’ve not done that.” 

“Why?” you gasp. “You’re gonna kill me too?” 

Silence follows, and with every passing moment sweat beads on your forehead, “It was you wasn’t it?” you continue. “You killed Tina. Joel only came along with me to calm my suspicions.” 

Before Tommy can confirm your suspicions, you notice movement within the forest and your eyes are immediately drawn to the shadow coming forth.  

“Smart girl,” Joel remarks with a half smile as he emerges from between the trees. There’s a splatter of red over his shirt but the knife seems to be tucked away. For now. “But you’re only half right, darlin’. I came along because I like spendin’ time with you.” 

“Is that supposed to make me ignore the fact that Jacob’s body isn’t even cold yet?” 

Joel curls two fingers under your chin, lifting your gaze while Tommy continues to hold you back. You shudder against him, a soft sound parts the younger Miller’s lips. 

“He was a piece of shit,” Joel grunts. “He was botherin’ Ellie, callin’ her names, he deserved what he was gettin’.” 

“So what, you guys are just playing hero? Killing everyone who’s causing trouble in town? There’s a system for that.” 

“Honey,” he tuts, an involuntary warmth spreading within your abdomen. “The system didn’t work before the outbreak, it ain’t gonna work now either.” 

“We protect our own,” Tommy says from behind you, breath fanning your neck. “We take care of it before it escalates. You have to understand that.” 

“And why the hell would I understand?” you hiss, looking directly into Joel’s eyes while addressing Tommy. 

Joel smiles, his lips curling slowly, “Because you’re one of us. And you like it when we protect.” 

Your lips part with an exhale. He’s right, not that you still agree with them killing people, but you had enjoyed that primal protection coming from the Millers. It made you feel powerful, loved, cared for. All the things you craved deeply. 

You ignore Joel and his words entirely, averting your eyes with embarrassment and shame. 

“I just don’t understand why you did it, Tommy” you murmur. Tommy tenses behind you, his arms tightening around your frame, drawing the remaining oxygen from your lungs. “I understand the other’s to an extent but Tina didn’t do anything wrong.” 

Joel looks towards Tommy, it was his kill after all and the older Miller had nothing to say about it. 

“She was wrecking what Maria is tryin’ so hard to build,” he answers. “She’s pregnant, stress ain’t good for her or the baby.” 

“Does. . . Does Maria—” 

Tommy cuts you off, “No.” 

Joel leans closer, mouth an inch away from yours as he parts his lips. “I killed for you,” You hate the way your body reacts to him, wanting to close the distance between you two despite how unsettled you feel. “Ian was a piece of shit, so was Tucker and Jacob. They don’t deserve your empathy, honey. And you can’t deny that you’re glad they’re gone.” 

His hair is a delightful mess. Soft locks going in every direction. All you want to do is thread your fingers within and forget about all of this. Joel’s gaze is observant, dark eyes darting all over your face. You don’t know what he sees but whatever it is, he nods to Tommy for him to let you go and he does. Legs lifeless and shaking, he catches you, his warmth welcoming. He’s still tender with you. Hands delicate as they move over your arms, shifting you so you'll be facing Tommy.

Joel’s hand curls around your neck and holds your chin so you can’t look away. You can’t read Tommy’s expression. You’re not sure what he’s feeling. However, you think he looks almost relieved that you’re not fighting anymore. 

You shudder as Joel drags his lips down your neck, taking deep breaths of your fear-induced scent. His hands slip under your shirt and cup both breaths, making you squeal. Your objection is short-lived when he brushes his thumbs over both nipples, awakening them with slow strokes. 

Tommy’s gaze drops to your chest. 

“He’s been watching you, you know,” Joel says. “When I had things to settle in town it was him who looked after you,” his voice drops, eyes observing his brother. “I think he deserves a bit of a show, don’t you think?” 

The whimper you let out is enough for Tommy to meet your gaze curiously. Joel smiles into your skin and your eyes widen as he pulls out a knife—a different one from the one he used on Jacob, you realize with relief. 

Your breath hitches as he slides the knife under your shirt and cuts your shirt clean from the middle, exposing you completely to his younger brother’s eyes. Sudden arousal pools between your legs and you clamp them together suddenly, the movement not unnoticed by either of them. 

“You like it when my brother watches?” he asks loud enough for Tommy to hear. “You got a little crush on him too, sweetheart, hmm? Don’t worry, he’s always goin’ to be lookin’ out for you. That’s what family does after all.” 

Your neck strains as Joel tilts your head suddenly, claiming your lips in a violent kiss. He doesn’t wait for you to part your lips for him and pushes his tongue into your mouth, licking the surprised sounds of pleasure right from your mouth. Your heart skips a beat. He presses the flat side of the knife against your warmed skin, the chill of metal settling in your bones. 

When he parts away, a string of saliva connects you still. “You’re mine aren’t you?” Joel groans, lips moving over yours. 

You nod in a daze and he smiles, “And I’m yours too,” he says. 

Your eyes meet Tommy momentarily, the younger Miller’s lips twitch in a half smile. He doesn’t say a word as he closes the distance. 

Tommy cradles your face tenderly,  urging you to come close as he envelopes your lips with his own, taking you by surprise. 

The kiss lacks the intensity compared to Joel’s. Tommy caresses your cheeks with both thumbs. You don’t even feel his tongue, it’s just a gradual movement of lips, a type of affirmation and comfort. 

“You’re one of us now,” he says pressing his forehead against yours. You don’t know how to react or what to say and you end up just nodding, your hands fisting his shirt. Him, parting away from you almost feels painful but you’re not sure why. Tommy gives you a smile and Joel a nod before he leaves. 

You and Joel stand like that for a while, in complete silence, bodies flushed together, knife still resting over your stomach. 

“I only did what was right,” he breaks the silence. His tone isn’t one of asking for forgiveness or understanding. His arms tighten around you. “Are you afraid of me?” he whispers into your ear, the thick hairs above his lips tickling the shell of your ear. 

You don’t answer him. 

“You don’t need to be,” he continues. He allows you to move within his arms, you want to see his face, you need to see him to not fear for your life. You ignore the knife grazing your skin as you turn around, your bare front snug against his chest. “I’ll never hurt you. And you’re the only person in this whole damn town that can say that. You and Ellie.” 

“What about Tommy?” 

“Tommy’s priorities lay elsewhere.” 

He doesn’t allow you to inquire further about what he means by that. All you can detect is a hint of anger that quickly dissipates when he claims your lips once more. 

You’re lost in him. His tongue captures you in a way that makes you forget the blood on his clothes—on his hands. His tongue slides against your own, pressing until you’re moaning into his mouth, your knees faltering at the knife smoothing down your skin. 

Before pushing you down to the ground, he takes off the shirt he cut in half completely off of you, your bra following the pile on the grass. Your breath hitches as he takes his place between your legs, his mouth devouring your neck, “Joel. . .” you moan, fisting his shirt and grinding up to feel at least a bit of friction. 

A silent laugh seeps into your skin, his breath sending shivers up your spine, “Do you still feel bad for them?” he teases, laying a wet kiss between your breasts. 

You don’t think much as you answer, “No.” 

And as a reward, Joel closes his lips over a nipple, sucking hard until your breathing goes ragged. 

“That’s my girl,” he groans, moving towards the other pebbled flesh. “You’re too good, too kind, but they don’t deserve that sweetheart.” 

He hooks his fingers into your belt loops and tugs down your jeans, laving you with soft, ticklish kisses as he moves lower and lower. When you’re completely bare to him, you have the urge to cover yourself, the grass tickles your back and the wind feels colder now. Joel smiles and pulls your arms away. He lays the knife right above your stomach and your breath hitches. 

“I want to taste you,” Joel says. “But not in the way you think, darlin’,” he kisses the sensitive skin right adobe your belly button, and brings the sharp edge of the knife to your skin. “I want to taste the life that pumps through your veins.” 

Your eyes widen as he nicks you. It’s a small cut and blood beads at the wound instantly. He doesn’t allow it to gather enough so that’ll trickle down, he quickly presses his lips against it, your essence coating his tongue as he gives it a tender suck. You can the blood leaving your veins, a pleasant tingle echoing from the wound and spreading throughout your body. Your eyes flutter, a moan escaping your lips as he flattens his tongue against the cut and licks with board strokes. 

“Fuckin’ delicious,” he rasps, pushing two fingers into you with ease. You gasp at the sudden stretch, your back arching into his touch. “So darn wet—All this for me, sunshine?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe out, grinding down. “Joel, please—” 

You hear the sound of his belt buckle coming undone, his breath heavy in your ear, “Since you asked so nicely, sweetheart, I’m obliged.” 

You feel the head of his cock brush against your entrance, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. Your eyes close in anticipation and you whimper as he slowly slides inside you inch by inch. You can feel it, that intense fullness that can only come from him, taking his time to make sure it feels good. His size is intimidating but you feel yourself melting around him, eager and willing. 

“That’s it. . . you’re takin’ me so well, such a tight little hole for me. Fuckin’ amazin’.” 

He presses his forehead against yours, nipping at your bottom lip before thrusting, sending a wave of pleasure that makes your toes curl. You cling onto him for support as he pumps deeper and faster, hitting all the right spots. It takes neither of you long to climb the edge, ready to fall. You can feel the warmth of his breath, and his grip tightens on your hips. His pace quickens as the intensity builds, and you clench around him as he groans your name. 

“Gonna come inside,” he slurs his words. “Gonna fill you up—shit—” 

You can feel him throbbing and pulsing inside of you, his hard length contracting. As he pushes deeper into you, your insides flutter, squeezing around him. Your orgasm is ripped from you, shattering and mind-numbing. Your head spins and you cling to him, afraid that the world underneath you might slip entirely. His hot come warms you from the inside out, spilling from where his cock stretches you. 

Joel remains inside until he starts to soften. He pulls out of you, leaving you feeling a longing ache deep within your core. You shudder as his come trickles down your thighs, your cunt clenching around nothing. 

“Such a pretty sight,” he murmurs, entranced, as he gathers himself over his fingers and pushes it back inside you. “Try to keep as much as you can inside.” To emphasize his want for it, he slides your underwear up your legs. 

You’re tied to him now. And even though you shouldn’t, you enjoy being the one near the beast. Joel helps you dress, at least helps you with what remains, and gives you his leather jacket to wear since your shirt is in ruins. Neither of you says a word as you walk back to where Jacob’s body rests. You help him bury the body, not feeling a single thing; no grief, no remorse, no sadness. 

You always did have a complicated relationship with death after all. 

[heartfullofleeches]

Moonlight Waves

Yan Alien Human Guy Person + Jellyfish Hybrid Reader 

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: None, pure fluff

“If you put some thought into it…The ocean and space have a lot in common.” 

Vast, boundless frontiers- Depths and reach never to be fully unveiled to the eyes of man. All imposing surfaces blanketing both heaven and earth. Two opposing bodies that on nights just like this might align, conjoined by midnight and the luminous orb mirrored upon them both. The full moon was a blessed companion for those who found themselves alone on eves similar to this- Solace and guidance found in her radiance. 

“Whelp- Guess it's time to throw myself.”

Wiser folk have said desperate times call for desperate measures- While there were lesser extremes he could have gone to, this seemed like the quickest solution to their predicament. Twenty-four years on this planet and they had still yet to conquer the strenuous feat that was learning how to swim. His mothers were gentle in their upbringing- Apparently too gentle as they never pressured their child into braving the horrors of the swimming pool. On one hand, the biggest factor to their child's fear may have been the fact that it was their neighbor’s pool - and it'd be quite difficult to explain the eerie glow to their toddler's tears and the stains they left on clothing. 

They were fine with it early on, but as he grew - Alien realized how much he was missing out on being unable to swim. Most humans know how to swim by their age anyway which would give less credit to his claims of an earth born and raised member of the population….Which they were regardless of whether or not they knew how to swim.

Alien squares his shoulders, testing the binds of  numerous weights anchoring various parts of their body. Unsatisfied with the distribution, he plucks a stone from the moist sand surrounding his legs - unfastening the velcro of their right breast pocket and adding it to the collection. A horde of trinkets ranging from shells to stones to a couple marbles crowded each pocket from the vest they wore down to the swimming trunks they purchased for the occasion. So what if his body was more buoyant than the average human being- requiring additional weight to avoid floating off into the endless sea. Alien had always been a scrawny person-

“That should be enough- Wait…Is that?” 

Srounging for more space to stuff the final stone, a gentle glow envelopes their fingertips following a faint- snap! Alien pushes the rocks and shells aside, wrestling the shining band from beneath them with minimal effort. 

*Jackpot! I thought I used all of these already. With this baby on, I'm definitely ready for this. Wish me luck up here!”

Alien gazes up at the moon as they slip the glow-stick bracelet onto their arm. It's the last thing they see as their legs carry the rest of them towards the end of the cliff. Had it not been a full moon or the sky so clear- tonight may have gone different for them. They could've swallowed their pride, and went to bed with intentions to sign up for the nearest swim class come morning. Realistically, Alien knew he'd never go through with that plan, but it was nice in theory. Safer too-

Head lost in the cloudless sky, Alien yelps as the ground is swept from beneath them - their screams swiftly snuffed by gallons of water as they're dragged into a plummet off the cliff's edge. Their body connects with the sea, pockets of air bubbling to the surface from the force at which they collide. The oxygen escaping him would have been alarming - had they any need for it. Whether they could hold their breath or their biology simply skipped the stage where their lungs depended on air was a secret they'd take to the grave. 

Sinking fast, Alien realizes what some might call a flaw in their ingenious plan. 

Perhaps, just maybe, they potentially added too much weight for them to claw their way back to the surface.

…

Ah well. 

Since they're already down here, there's no harm in exploring. Hard to see much beyond the gleam of their jewelry dangling freely around their wrist, but they dig the vibe of it all - drifting weightlessly without aim or reason. The deeper they dove, the brighter the natural fluorescence of their skeleton bled through their skin. Alien had heard of a condition that made people's skin slightly yellow before. Surely the green glow of their bones had to be in the same family. The shine widens their range of sight. By now, it was hard to decipher which way they were facing. The moon had long since faded from view….

Oh, wait. There it is..

….

Is it?

Stranging their eyes through the blackened depths of the ocean, Alien can clearly make something out miles away from them - shrouded by a halo of light. It almost mimics their guideless descent - floating off course before gradually aligning itself in a mostly linear ascent towards them. That alone was enough evidence whatever they were looking at was not the moon. The fluctuation of its surface and the four, almost crescent shaped markings atop only served as further proof. Inch by inch, as the space between them grew narrow, Alien could make out more of its features. Flowing tendrils, a pair of arms floating freely at its sides, a face adorned with a dopey smile. 

Face to face, the near angelic like figure raises one of its hands - waving its fingers at the unfamiliar face within its territory. Alien’s eyes tighten from the phosphorescence of the creature's skin. Ignoring the sting, Alien lifts his own hand, mirroring the entity’s motions. The corners of its smile peak higher upon its face, head following the dim glow of their bracelet. The lightly draws focus to the stones bulging from his pockets. The creature's grin falters into tight lipped confusion.

“Hey…Hey!” 

Alien struggles to make a sound as its hands paw at the straps of their pockets. Successfully tearing the sleeve open, the creature yanks out every rock, every shell- It pauses briefly to marvel at the eye of the marbles in Alien's pocket before shoving them beneath the cap of their head as they continue. Depleting their vest of its contents was all it took to send Alien on their upwards rise towards the surface. The angel waves again before swimming its way to the top, gliding gracefully as a true angel would through the sky. It grabs onto Alien's wrist, tugging him along with them as he apparently took too long for their liking.

Alien could only watch on in awe as the darkness peeled away - moonlight adding on to the ethereal, otherworldly glimmer that was this being and its flesh. Could this be Alien's first encounter with an extraterrestrial? There was no possible way a creature of this radiance was from earth. They just couldn't be-

The creature releases their hold on Alien's wrist as they breach air. Alien finds himself searching for their touch, and another item he appeared to be missing. The angel, the only term Alien found fit for them, wandered towards the shore without him- back facing the sand as they spun a glowing band around their finger. Alien channels the knowledge of every training video they viewed before their trip as they doggy paddle in the general direction of the shore. Thankfully, there was still enough weight in their shorts to keep them perfectly balanced between drifting off and going under. 

The energy is depleted from their very soul by the time they reach their destination. The angel sits with its lower half still bathed by the oncoming tide, rolling a marble through the crystalized sand. It throws its arm into the air as Alien appears.

The angel waves. Alien, running on fumes and the strange heartache that would come from not reciprocating their kind gesture- waves back.

The angel helps Alien sit upright, returning the marbles they had borrowed back into the land dweller’s pocket from which they can. Alien fishes out of the marble they saw the angel toy with and gives it back to them.

“Keep that one… So-  you got a name?” 

The angel’s mouth falls open in a “O” of both surprise and honor at the present. They brush the sand smooth before rolling the marble through it once more. Inspecting their craft, Alien can make out letters the further along the angel continues.

“Y/n? That's your name?”

You clap your hands in praise, sound and ferocity increased by the wetness of your palms. Cute. 

“You, uh, come here often?”

The point of your finger towards the water states the obvious fact that you live here. A murmur akin to laughter slips past your lips at that one. 

“You got me there… The sea’s pretty big, though. What I'm asking is can I see you again?”

You tap a finger to your chin in thought, head dipping towards the bracelet now hanging from your own wrist. You point to it, hope and wonder present in your grin. 

“You like the bracelet? You can keep that too. I can bring you more if that's what you're asking.”

Clapping again, you latch onto Alien's side - merging your fingers with theirs as you hold them both to the sky. Moonlight pours through your skin and theirs, transparency muddled by the existence of their bones. Your head falls to their chest- a whisper so quiet they almost missed it. 

“Like me…” 

They're glad that they didn't. 

[gladoswantscake]

An Eternity with You - Dracula x Reader (DBD)

Summary: There's only pessimism if you were taken into a realm of lifelong suffering.

Warnings: Psychological distress/trauma, blood, gore, horror

Available on AO3

The hacking, slashings, stabbings, and murder never stopped. Every time your body was pierced with those hooks or killed by the killer's hand; you prayed to whatever deity existed to put you out of your misery for good. But alas, you always wake up back at the campfire.  You were unwillingly taken by the Entity; taken into a realm of endless pain and suffering and stuck in sick games of nothing but pure torment. You dreaded going back to that campfire. It never led to anything new. You never came to terms that this was your new life, and you were never going to see your home again.

You could hardly close your eyes to rest without visions of murder entering your mind or the paranoiac-piercing screams messing with your eardrums. Streaks of your hair were becoming white from the great amounts of trauma, and bags under your eyes took effect from the lack of sleep.

The other survivors you've met had been here longer than you, but they never grew used to it, either. You never truly wanted to die so badly till now.

But then something happened during the times you served your trials.

Your chest grew heavy when there were no sounds of generators being repaired, or a teammate calling out in need of assistance. The air was silent and heavy as you explored the trial. The clicking of your footsteps only gave sound to the dead air. Fog entangled your legs with a step towards a sign of any life within the trial. In the midst of the fog, a silhouette laying on the ground could be faintly seen from a distance. As you approach further, you realize it was one of your teammates with their neck torn open. A small pool of blood lays underneath your dead teammate and soaked into their clothing. Upon further examining the body, the hole in their neck looked as if an animal had done it. Their eyes remained open; a hint of expression of fear remained on their face. It was almost as if they were begging you for help.

Quickly and quietly your teammates were being killed without you realizing. Was it just them or all the others?

"I apologize for leaving a mess for you to see. It wasn't very chivalrous of me." A deep voice startles you from behind causing you to whip your head around to see a rather tall man.

The Dark Lord, or Dracula that some of your fellow survivors refer to him as. Word of mouth went around the campfire that he was a vampire. He held no mercy for anyone who had a beating heart. Except for you. The first impression wasn't the best. You found him towering over you as you cowered beneath after watching him toss your teammate's dead body to the side after draining every drop of blood from them. 

For the longest time, he's felt his dead heartstrings being pulled. He wasn't sure what caused him to feel this way. Maybe if he was not feasting on your dead teammate, he would have looked less frightening.

He's grown obsessed with you since the day he spared you.

He takes his time walking up to you, wiping the blood off his mouth with the back of his hand in the process. "I was afraid I wasn't going to see you again." His hand reaches for your face with a clawed thumb to wipe a streak of blood splattered on your cheek from healing a teammate earlier.

"Is there ever a time you haven't?"

He chuckles at your response. "No, but I must say, it's become a hobby of mine as of late."

Every time you entered his realm, Dracula always saved you for last. Killing off your teammates as fast as possible then finding you. He couldn't have any of your teammates spoiling anything between the two of you. After killing off your teammates, he would take his precious time stalking you from a distance in his wolf form. His dead heart always skipped a beat whenever he found you wandering alone with no one to get in his way.

"I can tell." 

His fingers feather down to your arm until stopping when he notices discoloration on your skin. He pulls your wrist towards him examining a red swollen area with scrapes. The color was slowly bruising into a purplish red. His thumb gently glazes over the scratches allowing his cold touch to calm down the swelling for a bit finally.

"It's nothing. I fell." You reassure.

"My dear, you should be more careful. I'd hate for something so delicate to get into harm's reach."

"If I had a flashlight that lasted longer than ten seconds, I would have been able to see."

"Rather than relying on something so worthless, you should find something that'll do you good."

"Is that your way of saying I want to spend more time with you?"

"Of course. I enjoy indulging in conversations with you." He leans into your face, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Not only that, but I also enjoy feeling your warm skin under my hands and hearing the rhythmic pulse underneath your skin." His warm metallic breath hits your face. "It's so rapturous. Wouldn't you agree my dear?"

"I suppose it's better than death." You wince.

It took some time to warm up to him.

The Entity eventually notices the strange behavior of Dracula. He was unable to fulfill his duty because of you. No matter how much the Entity craved and demanded the survivor's flesh and blood he couldn't do it. He could never conjure enough courage to sacrifice you. It decided to remove you from the trials that involved him for it to be satisfied with its sacrifices. He grew angry upon hearing the news, but the Entity didn't care. If it wanted sacrifices, it was going to make sure it got what it wanted.

Now he finds himself in his castle away from the other killers—sitting alone in his throne room staring off into the distance, sulking in his thoughts. He had no regret being taken into the Entity's realm at first; it felt like paradise, but now he's beginning to have second thoughts. He grew madly in love with you that's why. He wanted to take you away from a place that's done you no good. He wanted to spend an eternity with you. If only he could.

Quiet clicking sounds from a distance pull him from his thoughts. He turned his head to where the sound was coming from and there you were just a few feet from where he sat.

If only he saw how his face beamed at the sight of seeing you again. He rushes to you. "I'd never thought I would ever see you again." His clawed fingers stretched outward feeling your hair as his thumbs stroked your cheeks; feeling the warmth that once sought comfort to him "I pray your suffering has not been too utmost for how long I've been away from you."

"Nothing has changed. I hate it so much."

"I'm sorry how things have-"

"I missed you. So. Much." Your voice cracks upon interrupting. He stares down at you as you try to keep your composure. You look away from him to hide your frustrated tears. "I wish I didn't have to go back."

"Please don't grieve." He lifts your face. "No matter what happens, I will always be here waiting for you. And one day there will be no more suffering. I promise you."

Despite you suffering eternal damnation in the Entity's realm; to Dracula, in a certain way he has gotten the happy ending.

An eternity with you.

[oflorelei]

My Problem is:

That it's a let down. Listen I am not mad or horrible dissapointed over that Radahn is there (although sigh i wished we would have gotten that Age of Abundance/Compassion man). I am not mad that he is apparently a puppets and that miquella is apparently the villain from the shadows. I'm mad that they hyped this DLC up so hard, using Miquella's character, which they know to be shrouded in mystery and HYPE, made it appear that we may have the chance to join him/get betrayed by him, made people belief he SPECIFALLY seeks out the tarnished or multiple tarnished at once (to help him?)- that he is the central figure of this DLC when he is not. And thats not an underestimation.

Miquella, most fearsome of the Empyreans, the 'father' of the Halligtree, beloved by near all, who "[...]wields love to shrive clean the hearts of men. (There is nothing more terrifying.)" - does not even have his own bossfight.

No, he is basically just a cape for a boss we already fought to a DLC that costs 40€. He is in the promotion arc, he is said to be a central figure, he is said to be the fearsome empyrean of all. One thing he isnt? Apparently worth the time of day.

I am ok with Miquella being turned into a villain, I am not ok with Miquella being turned into a joke.

There were so so many roads they could have taken with him, he was PROMISING in every regard.

Want to make him a Villain? Fine the reason can be:

=> Manipulation/Enchanting for people to love him (to ensure someone will always look out for him)

-not absolutely evil per say- and it makes sense that someone who is stuck in the body of a child might want to count on many people rather then one person to protect them = it is his weapon to wield affection

- still takes away free will, even consent to some degree

=> Formless mothers influence

- do i even need to explain this one lmao

- already thousands of theories before this DLC thought that miquella might have been negatively influenced by her- especially when so many things in this Game revolve around blood and the power of it

=> "for the greater good" ahh ending

- 'the means justify the end' mentality (maybe even allign with the manipulation and enchanting)

-would be a similar situation to ranni and could mirror it- not the best but also not horrible

=> St. Trina is Miquella's Radagon

- Miquella splitting slowly with the golden order & turning his back to the easier path & planning behind the shadows to change how Things have been? Yeah maybe St. Trina could have been to Miquella what Radagon was to Marika (a guard dog, keeping her checked (sry but i genuinely believe Radagon returned bc Marika started to stray)).

-could also have explored how marika had to deal with it & her relationship to her other self => player could maybe decide who they wished to serve

=> the curse drives mad

- being stuck in the body of a child when you are a grown adult mentally is pure eldritch horror imo, it is not only physically but chances are high it could cause deeper psychological issues

- when grief drove marika mad it can drive miquella mad to that despite everything he does, being so prodigal, does not help and helplessness of it all too

- bc no one can help and no one can understand him

- he is stuck in a body that is his, and yet its the body of a past him, something he should have outgrown, something that belongs to the past- and (IMO) he can not fight truly in his body, not even to defend himself- having to constantly rely on people for your protection when you are an incredible independent creature? Horrible

- while not the most climatic- would it be truly unthinkable that miquella maybe just..gave up? That it drove him mad with grief to realize he spends his life searching for a cure that might not even exist?

- again thats more then a 'what if' then realistic like the rest of the list but i just love the horror adult mind child body

Want to make him a good guy? Fine the reason can be:

=> He is described so. He knew that he would be the next god & took responsibility.

- Miquella created the Haligtree, feed by his OWN blood (which takes far longer and more energy then just using bodies) or all that are rejected by the golden order, he is compassionate & kind. He is protective and by gods above he does want to help, he does break away from the golden order when he realizes they are not what they seem

-With ranni not wanting to become the successor and Malenia cursed with the rot it only leaves Miquella open, he would have been aware of it

- He is already a 'big' brother, caring for malenia, caring for all who were considered Misfits such as the Albinauric & Misbegotten, providing a sanctuary and hope

- Miquella is described as kind, as compassionate someone who basically does wish to bring a change and is ready to self sacrifice for the better

There are many more but guys im so so tired and need to nap. In short: its incredible to me how you can make a Character that had potential for all possible sides (good, evil, inbetween) so bland, his arc and journey feel like white toastbread, his relationship to his beloved sister malenia seems fake, he doesnt appear to be an adult trapped in a body of a child but as simply put an idiot who is all about "me me me me" & then doesnt even get a bossfight.

Im not mad it was written, i am made there was zero thought or reasoning put behind it, when there were so so many options to make it good. Its sorta fascinating that somehow no one likes this ending, not the Radahn Fans, Nor the Miquella or Malenia Fans..idk man. Having feelings about this.

Also im really bummed we didnt get a cutscene were the tarnished touches Miquella's arm to travel like- man.

Also sorry for the grammar/spelling or maybe even logic errors i just needed to vent ngl

[urfavoritemistake]

fiddleford mcgucket and things that go bump in the night

i understand why people like to explore scenarios in art/fic where fiddleford is aware of bill and has face-offs with him while he's in ford's body, or he works with stanley to try and get ford back post-portal incident, but to me personally? nothing beats the canon scenario where he is left entirely in the dark. because it's so horrifying.

you know the principle of horror that the monster is much scarier when it stays in the shadows than when it's revealed, usually towards the end of a story, because until then, it's left to the depths of your imagination to fill in the blanks? fiddleford chooses to not investigate those shadows, and even further enshrouds what he fears in darkness, because he's too scared of what he might uncover. he's the child who refuses to check for the monster under the bed and instead stays awake all night under the covers frozen in terror. that's the appeal of his character to me.

canonically, he doesn't know bill or stan exist. because ford refused to even trust his best friend with the knowledge of his muse, or anything about his past, even the fact that he has a twin. he actively hides childhood photos of him and stan from fiddleford. presumably, in college he kept all their conversations strictly to their interests and passions.

can you blame fiddleford for becoming infatuated with the guy? a talented, bright, yet mysterious individual. he probably longed to slowly break down those walls and gain his trust, learn more about this man who has made an effort to be unknowable. happily offered up stories of his own life back in tennessee, his family and aspirations, and prayed one day ford would do a little of the same. but he respected him too much to pry.

and then, when they reunite, he slowly notices his dear friend acts a little Off sometimes. unnatural. but how well does he really know him anyway? surely he speculates about the life ford is hiding from him, people he may be talking to, mental afflictions he may have, but he can't pin down anything due to how left in the dark he is, and his own fear of asking too many questions and overstepping boundaries. so he can only suspect. ultimately all he knows is there is some sort of evil afoot, and the machine him and ford are building will bring it about. all he has to go off of is his calculations and a vague dread.

until he starts making the choice to forget, which may be a little easier since there's already so much he knows he doesn't know. what's the harm in losing a bit more, especially stuff that is causing him pain?

and so he starts to lose his mind in turn, and he can feel it as it's happening. he knows he can't trust his deteriorating memories. but he can't stop because of the mechanisms of addiction.

and maybe one day, before everything is entirely gone, he's made aware that stanford pines, his ex-friend, has converted his lab into a tourist attraction. not one fiddleford can afford to attend with his increasing reliance on dumpster diving and beggaring to get by, mind you. but perhaps he gets a glance at the proprietor, this man claiming to be stanford pines, and feels that old sense of wrongness in his gut.

he's pretty sure that's ford's face, but something's off about it. and his hands. something's wrong with his hands. didn't ford have something with his hands? fiddleford didn't notice it at first in college until ford pointed it out because he's mighty insecure about it, but he's forgotten what it was. but honestly, how much of his own fragmented memories can he even trust?

he feels a shiver down his spine. perhaps it's best to forget about stanford pines altogether.

[aclockworkreader]

i would love to hear your opinion on the “kallmekris” booktok discourse that’s going on rn (if you’ve seen it). i feel like there needs to be a conversation about how a lot of the books that are recommended on tiktok in the “spicy” book genre simply just romanticize abuse (a point brought up in the kallmekris YouTube video). it’s driving me crazy how many takes i’ve seen along the lines of “just let women enjoy things” or “they’re just books, it’s fiction”. which just feels lazy. i think people are refusing to think critically about this topic because they enjoy the books. but you can enjoy something while also acknowledging that it can be harmful. idk i would love to hear your thoughts!

i’ve mostly seen the discourse about the discourse loll. i think i’m a bit removed from most of booktok on my fyp. and i haven’t watched the original video, so i can’t speak on the contents of it or say whether i agree or disagree with her.

but this is a topic i’ve thought about a lot and i’ve even considered making a video on it, so i will say this:

i think we’ve seen, in the last few years especially, a significant rise in people refusing think critically about any content they consume. they always use the “it’s not that deep” or “let people enjoy things” excuse whenever someone has a valid criticism, or even just points out something factual about the content they enjoy. i’ve said this before and i’ll repeat it ad infinitum, but that’s anti intellectualism at work and it’s deeply dangerous. as you said, you can and should be able to enjoy something while understanding that it can also have problems. and i invite the people who really believe that it’s “not that deep” to stay and for a few minutes consider that maybe it is that deep.

i’m not sure if the original creator was talking about all “spicy” books or a particular genre of spicy books (like dark romance, sports romance, erotica in general, etc). but i definitely do think that some of the most popular booktok books do romanticize abuse. i’ve read enough colleen hoover to know that that’s true, and i’m sure her books are tame compared to some of the dark romance novels.

my controversial take (that i honestly don’t think is that controversial, i just don’t hear many people say it out loud) is that most of the people who are deeply obsessed with those booktok books have a ton of internalized misogyny to unpack—which is why they either can’t see or refuse to see the problematic elements within that content, because then they’d have to examine it within themselves. those books uphold and perpetuate deeply hegemonic ideas about gender and sexuality (particularly in cis, straight relationships) and many of their readers hold those same beliefs.

the way i feel about this is similar to how i feel about women and our relationship to wearing make up/removing body hair/etc. we’ve been fed this lie that we wear make up for ourselves and shave because it makes us “feel good” (i blame terfs and choice feminism), but with few exceptions, that’s not true. we do it because we’re trying to fit a social norm that was created to uphold heteropatriarchy. we do it as gender performance. i still wear makeup! i still shave! but i know that’s why i do it and i’m honest with myself about it. and the same goes for these types of books. you don’t like stalker romances simply because you think they’re dark and sexy. you think they’re dark and sexy because patriarchy has ingrained in you that men disregarding consent and overstepping your boundaries again and again should be acceptable if he’s attractive enough. you can still read them, you can still enjoy them, just think critically.

there are obviously nuances and exceptions to all of this, and there are stories that explore themes of abuse without trivializing or romanticizing them (ie. a lot of horror and gothic romance), but that’s a whole other conversation.

honestly, i could talk about this for hours and i have so much more to say so this is a really condensed (lol i know) version of my thoughts, but i hope it gives you a good sense of how i feel.

[tinydefector]

I was wondering if I could request some Jazz x GN bot reader nsfw maybe rough yet passionate intercourse and if you’re comfortable with it have the two get caught doing it

I’m so so so sorry if this doesn’t make sense 😭

Plug and Play

Jazz x Cybertronian

Word count: 800

Warning: smut, valveplug, plug and play, wire play, spark bonding. Spark play. Getting walked in on.

Masterlist

Jazz masterlist

_______________

Jazz's optics flicker behind his visor as he watches them, their playful behaviour has him smiling as he grips their hips. A low chuckle escapes Jazz's vocalizer. He shifts beneath them, feeling their movements against him, the subtle grind sending a surge of pleasure through his circuits as they run their servos across his frame.

"Well, darlin'," Jazz purrs, his voice laced with a mixture of desire and amusement, "you seem to be enjoying yourself quite a bit." He thrust up into them, pulling their body down with each thrust. Moans fall from their lips. Their frames are locked together as they both explore each other, tracing paint, chipped marks and dents across each other's plating.

Jazz's frame tenses as their optics meet his, one servo cupping his faceplate as they press their helm to his. He grabs their waist again slamming them down onto his spike. A yelp leaves them as their back arches, his name falling from their lips. his own moans mingling with theirs as their movements grow more frantic.

“Do that again!” They stutter out in a static laced tone. Jazz's servo grabs their backplates holding them firmly as he slams his spike back into them, making sure to grind Himself further into their tight valve. His other servo wraps around their spike pressing against the nodes that line it as he works them up.

"Y-Yes," Jazz gasps, his voice filled with a mix of pleasure and need. "Mmm gonna overload for me sweet thing?." He asked In a mumble against their audial. As their bodies move in perfect sync, Jazz's thoughts become a blur of memories, some his and some theirs as they share data, the overwhelming pleasure that courses through his circuits has him pulling them closer as he begins opening their spark chamber.

With a swift motion, Jazz's plating begins to shift, they both move frantically grabbing wires and plugging them into ports of each other's frame, their sparks singing to each other as they edge closer to an overload. The sound of gears and mechanisms whirring fills the air as he ruts desperately against them.

"I've got you." He guides their servos, helping them navigate the delicate pathways of his chassis, their touch sending shivers of pleasure through his circuits. Jazz's spark quickens syncing with their, their vents aline and in that moment he sees all of them, memories, emotions and so much more. Each beat of their spark has him spiralling further.

With each call of his name, he wishes for nothing more than to be one with them, to have his spark bond with them like this. their moans and cries echoing in harmony in the small room as they cling to each other as if the other would fade away. “Your stunning, please show me more” he almost begs as their sparks begin to dance, pulsing as static buzzes around the glowing orbs of light.

Their servos return to his face, gently guiding his helm back towards theirs. Jazz's optics meet theirs, a mix of wonder and desire shining through. A surge of energy courses through Jazz's circuits as their helms touch, the connection between them felt like liquid energex and ecstasy.

footsteps echo through the door as Prowl enters, his focus intent on his data pad until he looks up. as he catches sight of Jazz and his partner in the act, a mix of shock and horror washes over him. He freezes in his tracks, his optics narrowing.

"What in the fragging Pit is going on here?!" Prowl's voice booms, his tone laced with anger and disbelief. "Have you both lost your fragging minds?!, in the precinct!” He yells

Both of them tense up as they meet Prowls optics. Neither able to talk from the amount of energy flowing through their lines.

"Fragging pits, get decent, by primus I don't need to see that " Prowl snaps, his voice filled with a bitter edge as he slams the door shut behind him. "You should be ashamed of yourselves," Prowl yells out as he storms down the hallway. The sound of a table being thrown can be heard along with other voices questioning what was going on.

Both of them lay there together venting in sync before laughter trickles from them. “Told you he'd find us” they mumble into Jazz's plating which only makes him pull them closer as he cradles their face against his. “Worth every second of the lecture we will be getting” Jazz utters while tracing their faceplate. “Your cleaning up the broken table” they smile at him as they flick his helm cress making him lean back out of the firing range.

Jazz's optics soften as he watches their smile, their playful gesture momentarily easing the tension that still lingers in the air. He chuckles softly, his spark slowly cooling at their gentle touch. "Looks like I've got my work cut out for me, don't I?" Jazz replies, his tone lighthearted

_______________

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[teddylifts]

The Spirit of Gluttony - The Bodybuilder

Looking for more of a challenge, the spirit of gluttony located Adam. Adam was a real gym rat, and was in love with his own muscles. Blonde, with a scruffy beard, Adam had a typical superhero build. Religious at the gym, Adam meticulously counted calories. Not even a spare ounce of fat existed on his body. Attempting to enter the body, the spirit was immediately rejected. No surprise there. The spirit tried the trick that had worked on Matt - whispers. Weeks passed, and there were no results - Adam seemed to be immune to the lure of fat.

The spirit decided to try a different approach. Adam was repelled and disgusted by fat, but was enamored with the idea of growing larger. If the spirit could shift the focus from growing the muscles, to just growing larger in general, he might have some success. The spirit altered his whispers, and he felt a change in Adam's mindset - maybe he wanted to become a powerlifter. The spirit latched onto the idea and fed it. Adam became obsessed with lifting and bulking, and with a little prompting from the spirit, the bulk became a dirty bulk. Adam soon found himself carrying around 30 or so pounds of fat in his midsection, and the spirit found the ground fertile enough for him to enter.

Adam's body definitely did not fit the spirit - it was much too small, but instead of pushing out to make the body more comfortable, something the spirit knew would lead to being immediately rejected, the spirit contented himself with the ill fitting body - he would take his time on Adam. Admiring his relatively thin body, the spirit concentrated Adam's attention on the fat, and triggered the arousal. Adam got instantly hard, and the spirit was quick to jerk him off, planting the thought in Adam's mind that the euphoria after release was even better for the growing belly.

Without knowing why, Adam found himself posting pictures of his growing body online, and he rapidly found a following. Men and women alike were in love with his powerlifting physique. They loved his firm, solidly round belly. He found himself starting a Patreon, and soon money came pouring in - people were paying to watch him lift and eat. He found that people were more willing to pay for the eating challenge videos, and so his focus shifted - less lifting, more eating. He found that he was able to pack away more and more food, and what once was a challenge was now simple. His belly grew, and his round powerlifter~ass swelled out, round and fat.

The day the scale read 301, Adam's hands stopped exploring his belly. 300 pounds?! What the fuck? How did this happen? The spirit of gluttony was pushed out of the body by the rising horror the man felt. Adam turned to the mirror, and gasped as he really saw himself for the first time in months. He was still heavily muscled, but fat dominated his belly and ass - his face round and full. He decided this needed to end, but as he pulled out his phone, he saw notifications from patreon - more followers, and requests for more eating videos. One more video, and that would be it. He would cut the fat.

The spirit watched in satisfaction as one video turned into two, then three, and more. Adam was working on his belly himself - the spirit didn't need to help out anymore. If Adam wanted to make a living, he was going to have to keep growing fatter. If he wanted a satisfying release in sex, he needed to keep growing.